They ran.
Ran as far as their legs could take them. Far enough that the nightmarish squeals and groans of death from the hybrid monsters vanished. Far enough like the cold no longer bothered them.
Henrik was dragging him faster than he could process, driven by adrenaline and emotions, but ironically, he was the weakest between the two. He had overworked himself during his fight with the BeastMaster, sustaining multiple gashes on his skin, and it was like the sheer use of his quirk was taking a toll.
Soon, Henrik collapsed.
Not a stumble, not a trip—his legs simply gave out, and he hit the ground hard, panting, his arms splayed out like he'd just given up on physics.
Blood was flowing from his eyeballs, which wasn't due to any visible injuries, just the overexertion of his power.
Rhett skidded to a stop beside him, nearly falling too. "Shit—Henrik? Hey!"
