The soldier who had seemed gentle took a step back, his grip tightening around his swords.
His breathing grew heavy.
His body tensed—ready to strike again.
But before he could move—
The monster placed its enormous hand on its own torn shoulder.
Then it screamed.
It was not a scream of pain.
It was a declaration.
A horrifying roar that ripped through the air, shook bone and soul alike, as if the mountain itself had screamed with it.
Everyone instinctively covered their ears.
The sound was not merely loud—
it was oppressive… crushing the skull from within, clawing at the mind, planting a nameless, primal fear deep in the chest.
The snow trembled.
The mountain echoed the roar—once… twice… three times—until it felt as though it would never end.
Then—
The monster fled.
It turned abruptly and vanished into the depths of the mountain, swallowed by rock and shadow as if it had never existed at all.
It left behind only silence…
and ruin.
Time passed.
Seconds?
Minutes?
No one knew.
Slowly, the soldier extinguished the blue flames dancing along his swords. The glow dimmed, faded, until only cold steel remained—stained with blood.
He sheathed his weapons.
He did not speak.
He did not look at anyone.
He simply began… gathering the bodies.
The bodies of his comrades.
And the bodies of the prisoners.
Or rather—
what remained of them.
Shattered armor.
Severed limbs.
Lives extinguished without farewell.
He gathered what he could, then covered them all with a single large, rough cloth—barely enough.
That was all that could be done.
There was no time to dig graves.
No strength to dig even one—let alone nearly twenty.
The only hope…
was that someone might come later.
That they would find them.
That they would bury them… before the monsters returned.
At last, the soldier turned.
He approached the two surviving prisoners and removed their restraints without ceremony, without words of comfort.
Then his gaze shifted.
He saw Rolin.
And he saw the child in his arms—her face buried in his chest, clinging to him as if the entire world had vanished beyond that small embrace.
The soldier approached quietly.
He reached out, grasped Rolin's chains—
and freed him.
The shackles fell onto the snow with a soft sound… like a final exhale.
Then he spoke, his voice low, exhausted… but sincere:
"Thank you…
for taking care of the child."
For a brief moment—
The battlefield was still.
Not peace.
But… humanity.
---
The soldier gathered everything that could still be of use.
Extra swords.
Partially broken potions.
Pieces of armor that had not completely shattered.
Small pouches dropped by the dead, untouched by blood.
He left nothing behind.
As if survival alone guided him.
He stuffed it all into a sturdy leather bag, tightened its straps, then turned and gestured to them with a single sharp motion—
An order that allowed no argument.
Follow me.
They began to move.
One step…
then another.
With every step, the mouth of the mountain swallowed them slowly.
The light behind them faded, retreating as if the mountain itself wanted no witnesses. The air grew colder, heavier, saturated with the scent of ancient dampness… and blood that had never truly dried.
The silence inside the mountain was different.
Not empty—
but watching.
Suddenly, the muscular man tensed.
He stopped.
His breathing quickened, the muscles of his neck tightening like a string about to snap.
He spoke in a low voice, loaded with restrained terror:
"Hey…
are we… are we going deeper?
Into the place that monster ran to?"
The soldier stopped.
He did not turn immediately.
One more step…
then he froze.
He turned slowly.
Half his face was swallowed by shadow, the other half lit by faint light leaking from outside. His eyes were steady… cold… as though the mountain meant nothing to him.
He said calmly—deadly calm:
"We are in the Erthi Mountains."
Everyone froze.
Even the air seemed to stop moving.
The Erthi Mountains.
The name alone was enough to plant terror in the heart of anyone with a shred of sense.
Mountains that defied maps.
Land that acknowledged no laws.
Home to monsters that knew no mercy.
Creatures that reached the sixth level—
the Defiled…
the Shatterers.
Beasts that did not hunt merely to eat…
but to destroy.
Everyone knew the truth:
Monsters were divided into ten levels.
Each level… into five stages.
And the sixth level—
was where death itself
began to think.
The older man swallowed hard, gripping his injured side.
Rolin remained silent, holding Lulu close, her calm breathing the only proof that the world had not completely collapsed.
No one spoke.
Because everyone understood, in the same instant—
Going back…
without the carriage,
without protection,
across open land soaked in the scent of blood…
was certain suicide.
Moving forward into the mountains—
was a gamble.
A terrifying one.
But it was…
the only option.
The soldier turned again and walked into the darkness, as if the decision had been made from the very beginning.
And without a single word—
they followed.