Rolin froze.
A single thought echoed relentlessly in his mind—
Is Ivan… following us?
Terror, fear, and anxiety collided in a single instant, forming a suffocating current that wrapped around his chest and crushed the air from his lungs.
How could they possibly defeat someone who had killed Monolith…
and split it in half so effortlessly?
Despite the darkness, Rolin forced himself to focus on the battlefield below.
And there—
He saw them.
Footprints.
Clear.
Deeply embedded in the snow.
Leading downward… away from the heart of the mountain.
He stared at them for several long seconds.
Then—
He exhaled.
A long, trembling breath escaped his chest, as if the weight of the entire world had finally been lifted from his heart.
Ivan is leaving the mountain.
A faint sense of relief flowed through his body—weak, but real.
I hope you run into something down there…
Something that swallows you whole.
But what happened in the very next second—
Ripped the last remaining breath from Rolin's lungs.
…
His eyes widened in sheer horror.
From within the shadows below, a colossal creature emerged—
Larger than Monolith itself.
No… at least twice its size.
Its body was covered in thick, chaotic white-and-black fur.
Long, hooked claws sank into the frozen ground with every step.
As for its head—
A tiger's head.
Yet no natural tiger could ever possess such a form.
Rows of jagged teeth filled its maw, from which massive fangs hung—long, sharp, gleaming like unsheathed blades.
Its muscles were monstrous, layered upon one another, forming a body overflowing with raw, terrifying power.
And its eyes—
Red.
Cold.
Predatory.
Its presence was—
Mercilessly horrifying.
Then—
Without hesitation.
Without effort.
Without any ritual.
The creature bent down…
And devoured Monolith's corpse.
Bones shattered.
Flesh was torn apart.
It consumed it as if it were nothing more than worthless prey.
Rolin's mind screamed.
His hands trembled.
His heart felt as though it would burst from sheer terror.
What kind of monster is that…?
The answer formed on its own—heavy… and undeniable:
A Defiled Beast… a Breaker-class monster.
A corrupted, tainted abomination—
One that would require entire squads of elite warriors just to bring down a single one of its kind.
And this creature—
Was feeding.
Rolin slowly retreated, pressing his back against the cold rock, afraid that even his breathing might draw its attention.
And in that moment, one brutal truth became painfully clear:
If Ivan was a nightmare—
Then this mountain…
Was hell itself.
And they…
Were walking straight into its open maw.
A few minutes later—
The beast finished devouring what remained of Monolith.
Nothing was left behind but tainted snow, crushed bones, and the suffocating stench of blood hanging in the air.
Then—
It slowly raised its head.
Its movement halted for a single second, as if it were listening…
Or sensing something that should not be there.
Its red eyes gleamed in the darkness.
Then it turned.
With heavy, calm, confident steps—
It entered the mountain.
The darkness swallowed it whole, just as it had swallowed its prey.
Nothing remained but a heavy silence…
And a single thought echoing in Rolin's mind:
The mountain is no longer a path of escape.
It is an open mouth.
Rolin swallowed hard, realizing in that moment—without needing to think—that the creature would reach them.
Sooner or later… but inevitably.
And with that realization came another awareness, colder and far more ruthless:
Not everyone will survive.
Here, in this cursed world, survival is not granted.
It is bought.
And it is always bought… with sacrifice.
His gaze drifted across the faces around him, and part of him already knew the truth before admitting it:
The weakest is the most suitable.
The slowest goes first.
And the outsider… is the easiest.
Him.
Rolin.
They'll get rid of me first… to save themselves.
He cursed his weakness in silence.
Not because they would do it—
But because they would be right.
How could anyone survive a place like this?
Where the mountain is an enemy, the darkness is an enemy, the monster is an enemy…
And even the people around you are no less dangerous.
Yet amid that despair, Roland realized something.
Something the others didn't have.
Not strength.
Not courage.
But—
Knowledge.
Cunning.
And the willingness to use every possible means to stay alive.
These weren't academy lessons, nor noble ideals.
These were things learned by those who grew up in the slums—
Where mercy is a luxury,
And morality… a secondary choice.
He was the only one who knew the defiled beast was coming for them.
And that meant—quite simply—
He had the advantage.
There was only one path to survival.
To move one step ahead of them.
To strip them of the option to sacrifice him…
Before the thought even crossed their minds.
Rolin lifted his head.
His eyes were no longer the same as they had been moments ago.
No longer fearful.
But sharp…
Like the eyes of a small beast that had learned how to survive among predators.
Because the only truth on this mountain was:
Feed on them… before they feed on you.
Rolin rose slowly and slipped back between the jagged rocks.
The moment his boots touched the snow, Likath turned toward him.
"Did you see anything?"
Rolin stopped before the kind-faced soldier, his mind racing.
If there's one person I truly don't trust… it's this bastard.
Rolin trusted no one here—but Likath was different.
His smile was too calm.
His voice too reassuring.
And Rolin believed in one thing above all else:
Kindness is never ...free.
Likath frowned slightly.
"What's wrong with you?"
Rolin snapped back to himself, masking his thoughts behind a deliberately hesitant tone.
"Ah… right. Yes. I saw something."
Likath stepped closer.
"And what was it?"
Rolin replied carefully,
"Monolith… is dead. And I believe the prisoner who was held in the carriage chamber is responsible."
At that moment, Likath's expression changed.
The calm vanished, replaced by a dark shadow that lasted only a second—
But it was enough.
It was clear—
Likath knew far more about that prisoner than he should.
After a brief silence, he asked,
"Is he following us?"
Rolin shook his head.
"No. From the footprints in the snow, it looks like he went down the mountain."
Likath let out a breath, as if a massive weight had been lifted from his chest.
Rolin, however… remained silent.
He kept the truth about the defiled beast buried deep within himself.
Not forgotten—
But waiting.
Waiting for the right moment.
When his plan would take shape.
When possessing the truth… would become a weapon.
(Not everything you know should be spoken.)
(Some truths only save their owner if they remain secrets.)