Deep beneath the earth, hidden within a vast cavern, lay a colossal chamber. At its center stood a massive throne carved entirely from gleaming purple crystal.
The chamber was cloaked in pitch-black silence—still, breathless, as if even time itself had frozen in reverence.
Fsh!!!
Suddenly, violet flames erupted along the chamber walls, casting an eerie glow. Seated upon the throne was a towering figure, motionless. He spoke no words, yet the sheer force of his presence was enough to make the world tremble.
Before him stood a dark entity, a wicked grin stretching unnaturally wide across his face. Beside him, Keron knelt on one knee, head lowered in deep submission.
Both bowed low before the giant figure as the dark entity stepped forward.
"My lord, the preparations are complete.
The humans have passed the first trial and are now stationed near Mont Blanc.
We can soon proceed with the next phase of the plan."
The entity grinned wider as he delivered the news. Keron remained kneeling, still and silent, not daring to lift his gaze.
The mighty figure tapped his fingers against the armrest of the throne, his gaze fixed upon the two before him.
"Good.
The creature sealed within Mont Blanc has long struggled to break free.
At last, we will reclaim what was taken from us... three hundred years ago."
A faint smile crept across his face, sharp and foreboding.
The dark entity's grin twisted further as he added,
"However, there's been little progress concerning them..."
Then, his voice lowered slightly—almost with caution.
"But... She has begun to take matters into her own hands.
It seems she's growing increasingly restless, now that the day draws near."
The chamber grew tense. The dark entity lowered his head.
"She must have sensed it—they are returning.
Things are about to get... interesting.
Let's see what choice she makes now.
Will history repeat itself, or will this new chance finally change the outcome?"
The mighty figure grinned.
Keron and the dark entity both tensed, a heavy pressure hanging in the air.
(Just what will become of this age...? Will history truly repeat itself...!?)
Keron clenched his jaw as he stared into the stone floor.
.
.
.
.
The sun blazed high above the horizon, casting sharp golden rays over a land trembling with dread.
Beads of melting frost dripped from the leaves of the frostbitten trees, falling silently onto the cold, brittle earth.
Tension hung thick in the air.
No one in the camp had managed to sleep—not after the relentless tremors that had rocked the ground through the night. The source of their fear was clear:
Mont Blanc, the ancient giant, groaned from within as if trying to awaken from a millennia-long slumber.
Exhaustion clung to every face like a shadow, deepened by the battle they had endured just a day before. They were worn down—but far from defeated.
Inside her command tent, Rosalie stood motionless.
The morning air was frigid and still, filled with that eerie silence that always preceded calamity.
A large, meticulously drawn map of Mont Blanc and its surrounding terrain was spread out on the central table.
She leaned over it, arms braced on the wooden edge, her sharp eyes tracing the jagged lines of elevation and forgotten paths.
Flanking her on either side were Shinju and Étienne—silent, alert, and waiting.
"We're camped here," Rosalie said at last, tapping a forested area near Le Houches, roughly ten kilometers southwest of Mont Blanc.
"This is where Shinju's team discovered the bodies—and where they first encountered Keron. It's also near the spot we were attacked yesterday. There's no doubt now—those demons were sent by him."
Her voice was low but clear, edged with purpose. Shinju and Étienne exchanged glances but remained silent.
"But… why?" she murmured, eyes narrowing. "Keron wants whatever is inside Mont Blanc, doesn't he? Then why try to stop us?"
The question lingered in the tent like smoke, thick and unanswered.
None of them could respond.
Time ticked forward, yet their understanding remained frozen.
Shigeru stepped into the tent, arms folded tightly across his chest. His presence was steadying, like a mountain before a storm.
"We can't afford to dwell on his motives,"
he said firmly.
"Not now. If that mountain collapses—if it truly shatters—towns like Le Houches will be wiped off the map. We have no choice. We go in."
The others nodded slowly, reluctantly. The weight of his words was undeniable.
Étienne, still unsettled, muttered under his breath,
"But he'll try again. If he attacked once, he'll do it again. Just what the hell is he after…?"
Rosalie didn't answer. Instead, she picked up a marker and began drawing on the map.
"There are three possible routes."
She gestured to the first.
"Route one: through the Glacier des Bossons. Dangerous terrain—unstable ice, hidden crevasses—but old tunnel systems once ran beneath it.
If there's something hidden beneath the mountain, that's one of the likeliest places."
Her finger shifted northward.
"Route two: up from the Chamonix valley, following the Goûter Route.
It's the most direct and well-known path—less chance of getting lost. But that also means it's the most predictable. If someone is guarding Mont Blanc, they'll be watching this trail."
Finally, she tapped a point to the southeast.
"Route three: across the Vallée Blanche, near Aiguille du Midi.
It's the trickiest—unstable ice bridges, shifting snowfields—but it leads straight beneath the massif. If there's a secret entrance, it could be here."
Étienne leaned closer, brow furrowed. "Each path could kill us. If something's buried under that mountain, it was never meant to be found."
Rosalie nodded solemnly.
"That's why we split up. Three teams, one goal. We approach from all sides. If Keron tries to stop us again, it'll be harder for him to intercept us all."
She looked to Étienne.
"You'll take a team through Chamonix and up the Goûter Route."
Then to Shinju.
"You'll lead the group across the Vallée Blanche."
Shinju's gaze met hers.
"Splitting our forces might weaken us."
"I know,"
Rosalie replied.
"But time's not on our side. We can't afford to move as one. Mont Blanc could erupt at any moment. We must advance now, while we still have the chance—"
RUMBLE!!!
Before she could finish, the earth convulsed beneath their feet. The ground cracked with a deafening roar.
Jagged ruptures split the terrain as if the earth itself were screaming. Icebergs—massive, ancient slabs—began to break free from the heights of Mont Blanc, thundering downward in a cascade of doom.
They burst from the tent.
Outside, chaos had already erupted. Screams filled the air. The icy mountain loomed above, splintering apart.
More cracks zigzagged across its white slopes, and boulders came tumbling down like the wrath of the heavens.
Rosalie's eyes widened for a split second—but then sharpened into command.
She climbed onto a nearby rock and shouted above the roar:
"EVERYONE, STAY CALM!
ARRAY MASTERS—FORM A PROTECTION BARRIER AROUND THE CAMP, IMMEDIATELY!
EVERYONE ELSE—GATHER YOUR BELONGINGS AND PREPARE TO MOVE!
THE MONT BLANC IS BREAKING!
WE DON'T HAVE TIME TO WASTE!
REGROUP AT THE EDGE OF THE FOREST AS SOON AS THE QUAKE STOPS.
WE MOVE AT FIRST LIGHT!"
"YES, PRESIDENT!!"
echoed the unified roar of her comrades.
Without wasting another second, the array masters began their work, hands glowing with energy, forming intricate patterns in the air.
A transparent dome of protective magic began to rise as the others dashed into their tents to pack supplies, weapons, and relics.
The countdown had begun.
The mountain was awakening.
And soon... so would the nightmare buried beneath it.
.
.
.
.
The earthquake calmed as the land settled once again. The calm after the quake felt unnatural.
The land, moments ago alive with fury, had fallen into silence.
The tremors had ceased, leaving only a whisper of wind weaving through frost-laced trees.
For a few long seconds, the world stood still—as if nature itself was holding its breath.
Then, cautiously, people began to emerge.
They stepped out of tents and shelters with wary eyes, brushing snow from their coats, checking over gear, helping others to their feet.
Their gazes turned instinctively upward, to the jagged, wounded face of Mont Blanc looming over them like a sleeping beast.
It stood fractured but silent, its fury subdued—for now.
But no one believed it would last.
In the heart of the main camp, urgency replaced fear.
Panic had no place here.
These were soldiers, mages, and specialists from nine nations, hardened by battle and bound by purpose.
They had known this moment was coming. The mountain had groaned for days.
The quake was a confirmation, not a surprise.
The only uncertainty had been when—and now they had their answer.
At the center clearing, a wide table was set beneath an open field tent.
A sprawling map of Mont Blanc and its surrounding region lay pinned against the icy wind.
Rosalie stood over it, her gloved hands pressed against the parchment.
Around her gathered the commanding officers and squad leaders from all allied nations—boots crunching on frostbitten earth, breath clouding in the air.
Shinju and Étienne stood at her flanks, silent and steady.
Rosalie raised her eyes, her voice cutting through the stillness.
"Alright. That was strong—but not unexpected."
Her tone was clear, sharp, commanding.
"Listen carefully—things are moving faster than anticipated. The pressure inside that mountain is building.
We don't know what's in there, but if it breaks open on its own, it won't just be Mont Blanc we lose.
Entire towns—Le Houches, Chamonix, Courmayeur—they could be buried."
Murmurs of grim agreement. Some eyes flicked back toward the mountain, as if seeing its slopes anew.
"We've already finalized our approach strategy,"
Rosalie continued.
"This quake only confirms what we suspected—it's time to move."
The camp quieted further. Even the wind seemed to pause.
"We departed from Paris with nearly one thousand operatives. In just one day, we've lost over a hundred."
The weight of that number hung over the clearing like a storm cloud.
No one had spoken it aloud until now. Faces tightened. Some lowered their heads. Others clenched fists.
"They knew the risk,"
She said gently,
"just as all of us do. This isn't a mission. It's a race against something unknown —and we may already be late."
Her voice turned steely.
"We can't predict the next quake. We can't predict when the enemy might strike. So, from this moment, we divide into three units—three hundred personnel each."
A few eyebrows rose. The shift was abrupt, but no one interrupted.
"Each team will approach Mont Blanc from a different direction.
Right now, We're ten kilometers southwest of the peak, near Le Houches. From here—"
She extended a gloved finger across the map, dragging it eastward.
"—First route: Glacier des Bossons, in the East.
It's unstable. The ice is riddled with crevasses, and the landscape shifts daily. But if there are any ancient tunnels beneath the massif, this is where they'll be."
Her gaze met Étienne's.
"Sir Étienne will command this team."
He nodded firmly, stepping slightly forward.
Rosalie's hand moved north.
"Second route: Goûter Ridge, north face.
It's the most direct and visible path, used by climbers and search teams. That makes it the most likely to be watched—but also the fastest path upward if we need speed."
She straightened her back.
"I'll lead this team."
A ripple of quiet acknowledgment passed through the crowd. Eyes remained fixed on the map, studying every contour.
Rosalie's hand now swept southeast.
"Third route: Vallée Blanche, through Aiguille du Midi.
This one's closest to our current position, but the most treacherous. Narrow ridges, avalanches, shifting snow. But—if there's a fissure or hidden entrance—we might find it here."
She nodded toward the quiet figure standing just behind her.
"Sir Shigeru will lead this team."
Shigeru gave a curt nod, his expression unreadable.
Rosalie looked up, voice softer now—but unyielding.
"We don't know what's waiting beneath Mont Blanc. We don't know if it's alive, artificial, or something else entirely. But if it is trying to break out—then our only option is to get there first."
Étienne stepped forward beside her.
"The special defense forces from all nine nations have been divided accordingly. Each expedition team will include three allied defense units."
He pointed toward the gathered crowd.
"Team One—under Me—will include Italy, Switzerland and Germany
Team Two—under Rosalie—will include India, China, and South Korea.
Team Three—under Shigeru—will include Japan, France, and Spain."
He held up a clipboard.
"The assignments have already been distributed to your instructors. If you don't know your grouping yet—find out now."
His tone grew harder.
"Stay tight. Stay fast. If you lose contact—fall back to the rally points marked in red on your maps. No heroics. No wandering."
Shinju finally spoke, his voice low and calm.
"Don't overthink it. Move smart, move clean. We'll improvise once we're inside."
Rosalie stepped forward once more.
"Recheck your packs. Essentials only—no extra weight. If it's not gear, food, or spells, leave it behind. Every second will count once we're in."
She turned slightly, addressing the rear formations.
"Spell users—have your charms, wards, and pre-cast arrays ready. If you can't cast—pair up with someone who can. No one goes in solo."
A pause. Her eyes swept the crowd.
"And one last thing—if you see anything strange, mark it and report it. Do not engage alone.
Do not assume anything. Don't chase shadows. We move as teams, or we don't move at all."
There were no objections. No murmurs. Just cold silence and resolve.
The squads began breaking apart, officers shouting orders, lieutenants directing movement.
Soldiers knelt in the snow, adjusting gear and binding charms to their gloves.
Mages whispered incantations as weapons glowed faintly in the fading light.
Étienne pulled his heavy coat tighter and stepped closer to Rosalie.
"Are we sure we're not rushing this?"
Rosalie's eyes stayed fixed on Mont Blanc.
"If we hesitate," she said quietly, "we might not get another chance."
Shinju had already turned, his long coat catching the wind as he returned to his unit. Around him, his troops gathered in practiced silence.
The wind was rising again, blowing colder now. The air was thinner, the sky darker—though the sun had not yet set.
It was as if the mountain itself had drawn a breath… and now waited to exhale.
As the last squads moved into position, and the final boots left the snow-packed clearing behind, a strange hush settled across the camp—
Not peace.
Not safety.
Only the silence that comes just before the end of something...
Or the beginning of something far worse.....