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Chapter 561 - Chapter 560: The Bear Hunter

"I still can't believe I actually got away from a bear," Lara muttered through gritted teeth, her voice a hoarse whisper carried by the icy wind.

Despite her top-of-the-line climbing gear designed for extreme cold, she was forced to hug her arms tight across her chest, trying to preserve every shred of body heat. Her body trembled uncontrollably as the cold gnawed into her bones, relentless and merciless.

She had to stay awake.

If she passed out here in the frozen mountain gorge, it wouldn't be the bear that killed her—it'd be hypothermia.

Hypothermia's damage to the central nervous system was irreversible, and she needed quick reflexes and brute strength more than ever now.

Only agility and power would let her continue to scale this ancient, frost-covered ruin—one now crawling with enemies.

Trinity had moved too fast.

From the cliffside, Lara had seen their mercenaries already establishing makeshift outposts, prefabs, and patrol routes. It was clear they were digging in for a long-term mission.

Using her exceptional wilderness skills and the agility of an Olympic gymnast, Lara set up a temporary camp: a firepit, a windbreak, and a barely-functional bow made from scavenged wood and metal. She had whittled crude arrows—just straight enough to fly.

The Soviets had once built infrastructure here, all centered around a massive gulag. After Stalin's death, it was abandoned. Lara suspected that this prison had been built atop the ruins of a Mongol encampment—and some of those Mongols, perhaps, had been Trinity agents when they laid siege to Kitezh.

There might be tunnels beneath the gulag she could use to escape—but for now, she was exhausted. She needed rest.

SCANDAL! Renowned historian's wild theories proven false—Croft's books pulled from universities! Sir Richard Croft declines to comment until next release.

Lara jolted awake.

She had no idea how long she'd been out, but the dream—the memory—had turned darker and darker.

She remembered her father's anger. It had terrified her.

As a child, she hadn't understood it.

As an adult, she'd resented it.

But now she walked the same path.

And she understood.

He had been right.

Everything she'd seen in Yamatai proved it. Her father hadn't been mad. And now, the same world that mocked him whispered secrets to her.

Immortality wasn't a myth.

Supernatural power existed.

It lay just beneath the surface of reality.

And she had a generous friend to thank for that.

If not for him, Lara would still be working to pay for her own expeditions.

But there was no time to dwell.

She still had work to do.

Below the branch where she crouched, a Trinity mercenary paced through the snow. His radio call had just ended.

Snow clung to her crimson parka, blending her into the glowing white of the night.

When the moment came, she leapt.

Adrenaline flushed away the numbness.

She brought the climbing axe down in a powerful arc—

It crashed through his woolen cap and cracked open his skull.

She didn't linger. She yanked the axe free and slipped into the bushes, breath steaming from her nose.

Another mercenary approached. Lara pounced.

The dripping axe sank into his forehead, her movement silent, swift, and lethal.

With a practiced twist of her wrist, she snapped his neck.

The wet crunch of bone and the burst of frozen brain matter told her the job was done.

She didn't have time to pull the rifle from beneath his body.

Too risky.

Instead, she slipped a handgun from his thigh holster.

It was enough.

Since her last expedition, Lara had learned more than archaeology.

Solomon hadn't just given her money—he'd taught her how to kill.

Some of his techniques weren't meant for human foes at all—

They were designed for the undead, for werewolves, for vampires.

She moved through the dark.

Back to her camp.

But the site had already been discovered.

She had to abandon her little nest—the shelter she'd made from twigs and leaves—because Trinity's patrols were expanding.

She was rested.

She could keep fighting.

Hot chocolate would be nice, she thought.

She remembered Solomon's words: "Many of Earth's myths are true."

If that were so, maybe she should pray to the Mayan jaguar god of commerce and war—Bolon-Yokte.

Legend said he turned into a cacao tree after his contest with the maize god.

Maybe a prayer could earn her a mug of cocoa.

But no—this wasn't the time for fish and unleavened bread.

This was the cold talking.

Lara knew what it meant.

The early signs of hypothermia.

She had to keep moving.

Had to find a new shelter.

Soon, Trinity would notice the radio silence from this sector and reinforce it.

And they were expanding in this direction.

The only way around the bear near the railway was through Trinity's net.

Maybe it's better to face the bear, she thought.

At least it doesn't have guns.

It would be hard.

She'd have to be ready to run.

Lara Croft wasn't arrogant—

She had no illusions about fighting a Siberian brown bear head-on.

"That thing looked really pissed," she muttered, absolving herself of any blame for trespassing in its den.

"Probably Trinity woke it up. Not my fault!"

Still—she prepared.

She shaved more arrows with her knife, then coated their tips with the juice of strange cave mushrooms.

She didn't know what they were—but the color alone screamed toxic.

She crept forward, killing two more mercenaries in the dark with silent arrows.

Then she stripped their weapons.

Now she had a pistol, a homemade bow, a rifle, and two magazines.

Enough to face what was coming.

But she hadn't expected the bear to be this vindictive.

Drawn by the scent of blood, the bear burst from a tunnel Lara hadn't noticed.

It tore into the mercenaries' bodies, ripping them apart in a frenzy.

It blocked her only way forward.

Cornered, Lara raised her rifle.

She took a deep breath.

And pulled the trigger.

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