In the Mountains

The narrow pass was suffocating, its cramped walls pressing in from every side. Just wide enough for ten men to march abreast, it became an agonizing bottleneck as over 10,000 soldiers squeezed through. Every step was deliberate, the army moving in a unified rhythm—slow, laborious, relentless. The march was grueling, the pace excruciating. But the greatest danger lay beneath their feet: earth-elemental monsters, burrowing through the ground, waiting for the slightest tremor to strike.

Mirr waved a hand before his face, trying to cool himself under the merciless sun. It hung high, offering no shade, no reprieve from the scorching heat. Sweat streamed down the soldiers' faces, each step heavier than the last. Mirr yawned, his energy draining under the relentless heat. Since dawn, they'd marched without pause, and the midpoint of the pass still felt far beyond reach.

On either side, the Brenzinan Mountains loomed like jagged spears, casting long, oppressive shadows over the soldiers—silent reminders of the harsh journey ahead.

Garth stood firm on a ledge above, surveying the army below with the practiced gaze of a seasoned commander. His posture was unshaken, his eyes scanning the scene with quiet authority. Mirr stood beside him, feeling the weight of the man's presence settle between them. It had only been a few days since his meeting with Duke Richt, and Mirr was still adjusting to the man's unexpectedly casual demeanor. When Mirr had left the capital for the front, he'd feared how the noble would treat him. He had met Duke Richt only a handful of times—always at public events like Asher and Jude's recent birthday. He'd expected another pompous aristocrat eager to flaunt his status—but Garth was different. There was no grandstanding, no pretension. He was a man of action, not words—a man who valued character over title.

The soldiers respected him deeply—not because of his noble birth, but because his actions earned their loyalty. Garth laughed and joked with them, but there was an ironclad authority in his humor. He was clear, direct, and unwavering when it came to orders. He knew how to lift the men's spirits without compromising his role as their leader.

Serving under someone more focused on the task than maintaining appearances was a welcome change. Though fourth-born and destined to join the aristocracy, Mirr had often been seen as a valuable asset due to his royal connections. He had met countless nobles eager to curry favor with him, but Garth's unpretentious leadership was a rare, refreshing contrast.

As the army trudged forward, the pass seemed to stretch endlessly. The Brenzinan Mountains, towering giants, loomed above, casting a suffocating weight over the soldiers. The air was thick, almost stifling. Every footstep echoed, amplified by the narrow rock walls that confined them.

"You're quiet today," Mirr remarked, breaking the silence. "Something on your mind?"

Garth's gaze lingered on one of the distant peaks. He seemed momentarily caught off guard by the question before turning to Mirr with a brief smile. "I was just thinking," he said, his voice low and steady. "The mountains... they've always had a way of unsettling men."

The Brenzinan Mountains were infamous; their gray stone ridges were a graveyard for would-be explorers. Expeditions had been launched into their vast expanse, all of them failing. The mountains were a monument to lost lives, a testament to those who had perished in their shadow. No wonder the soldiers found the environment unnerving.

Mirr opened his mouth to respond, but a sudden tremor shook the ground beneath them. A low rumble reverberated through the earth, causing several soldiers to stumble.

"Hold fast and stay alert!" Garth's voice rang out, commanding and firm. "Sorcerers, prepare your spells! Scouts, find firing positions. If it shows itself, kill on sight!" The soldiers sprang into action at his command.

The response was swift and practiced. Scouts leaped into the air, using fire or wind magic to scale the pass walls, while others summoned outcroppings of earth and water to create vantage points for their archers. Sorcerers began chanting, their incantations weaving through the tense silence.

Garth's focus never wavered. He stood tall, his posture rigid as he surveyed the surroundings, calculating their next move. He wasn't just a noble—he was a general, and in that moment, the soldiers knew their survival depended on his decisions.

The rumbling ceased as suddenly as it had started, leaving an eerie silence that pressed down on the pass like a physical weight. No one dared move. Mirr's breath caught in his throat, his heart pounding so loudly he was sure the others could hear it. The air was thick with the scent of dust and sweat, and the only sound was the faint clink of armor as soldiers shifted nervously. Time seemed to stretch, each second an eternity.

Then, a faint scratching sound echoed from beneath their feet. Mirr's stomach dropped. He glanced at Garth, whose jaw was clenched tight, eyes scanning the ground with razor focus.

"Steady," Garth murmured, his voice low but carrying through the silence. "It's not over."

Before Mirr could respond, the ground erupted in a deafening roar. The silence shattered with a thunderous crack. A massive pillar of rock erupted from the earth, and a monstrous form shot upward with such force that it swallowed nearly fifteen soldiers in a single snap of its gaping maw. Mirr stumbled back in terror, falling to the ground as the creature loomed above them. It was a giant, writhing worm, its mouth a cavern of swirling, jagged teeth dripping with fresh blood.

"Titan Worm!" a soldier shouted, his voice high with fear. Titan Worms were the apex predators of the Brenzinan Mountains—massive, emperor-class earth-element monsters that burrowed through the land with terrifying speed. The Titan Worm's maw gaped wider, its jagged teeth gleaming in the pale sunlight, slick with the blood of the fallen.

The soldiers froze, momentarily paralyzed by the sheer enormity of the creature towering above them. Its vast, writhing body coiled beneath the earth like the mountains had come alive. The Titan Worm was thicker than most trees, its movements a nightmare of primordial power.

"Scouts, fire!" Garth barked, his voice barely audible over the worm's deafening roar.

The scouts sprang into action, their movements frantic but precise. Bows creaked as they drew back their strings, and a moment later, a volley of arrows streaked through the air like a deadly rain. The shafts struck the worm's hide, but most bounced off harmlessly, their tips shattering against its armored scales.

The worm let out a guttural growl, its massive body undulating as it surged forward. The ground trembled beneath its weight, and the soldiers scrambled to retreat, their faces pale with fear. The sorcerers launched lances of lightning, fire, and ice, the air crackling with energy as their spells streaked toward the beast. But it was too late—the worm's maw gaped wide, swallowing soldiers and chunks of earth alike. The creature's roar drowned out the screams of the fallen.

"Guardians, barricade!" Garth's voice cut through the chaos, sharp and commanding.

Several brave soldiers charged forward, their shields locking together in a wall-like formation. A green light bloomed around each shield as barrier magic activated, layering into a multilayered defense. The phalanx stood firm, their faces set with grim determination as the worm slammed against the barrier.

Thud.

The impact reverberated through the ground, sending cracks spiderwebbing across the magical shield. The guardians gritted their teeth, their arms trembling under the strain. Behind them, the soldiers watched in horrified silence, the cracking barrier echoing like a death knell.

Mirr sat on the ground, unmoving, his body locked in place by fear so consuming that even the slightest movement felt like it would draw the monster's attention. His breath came in shallow gasps, his chest tight as panic clawed at his throat. The world around him seemed muddled and distant—voices shouting, spells crackling, the ground trembling beneath him. Someone was calling his name, but their voice was faint, drowned out by the roar of the worm and the pounding of his own heart.

"Mirr! Mirr, come on, we have to move!"

Garth's sharp and urgent voice cut through the haze. Mirr felt strong hands grip his shoulders, shaking him roughly. He blinked, his vision clearing to see Garth's face inches from his own, etched with concern and determination.

"Snap out of it!" Garth shouted, his voice firm but not unkind. "We don't have time for this!"

Mirr nodded numbly, his body still trembling, as Garth hauled him to his feet. The world rushed back in a flood of sound and sensation—the screams of soldiers, the acrid smell of burning earth, and the heat of the sorcerers' spells lighting up the pass. Garth shoved him forward toward the retreating soldiers, but the sheer number of people made movement agonizingly slow.

Mirr stumbled, his legs unsteady, his mind still reeling. He wasn't ready for this. None of his training or royal upbringing had prepared him for the raw, primal terror of facing a monster like the Titan Worm.

The Titan Worm loomed over the soldiers like a harbinger of death, its massive body thrashing as it tore through their ranks. The guardians' barriers crumbled under its relentless assault, the green light flickering as cracks spread across their surfaces. Garth's eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening as he assessed the situation.

"Mirr, get to safety," Garth said, his voice calm but firm. He didn't wait for a response, already turning toward the monster.

Mirr shouted, his voice trembling. "You can't—it's too dangerous!" But the roar of the worm drowned out his words.

Garth charged forward, his sword gleaming in the pale sunlight as magic energy surged through him. His eyes burned with an otherworldly light, and wind and fire whipped around the edge of his blade. He leaped into the air, his movements so swift and precise that he seemed to fly.

Mirr watched from a distance, his heart pounding in his chest. He wanted to help, to do something—anything—but his body refused to move. The sight of Garth, so small against the towering monster, filled him with admiration and dread.

The worm let out a deafening roar, its maw gaping wide as it surged toward Garth. He didn't flinch. Instead, he summoned a green barrier beneath his feet, using it as a platform to redirect his jump. The worm's massive jaws snapped shut on empty air as Garth soared higher, creating more barriers to propel himself upward.

Finally, he found his target—a small, bean-sized eye on the side of the worm's massive body. The wind and fire surrounding his blade grew violent and aggressive, swirling into a maelstrom of energy. With a thrust, he drove the blade into the worm's eye, the accumulated energy exploding in a blinding flash.

The worm let out a shrill, ear-piercing scream, the scent of burning flesh filling the air. It thrashed violently, its massive body writhing in pain and confusion.

Garth moved with precision, and his every step was calculated. He dodged the worm's thrashing body, his sword flashing as he struck at its vulnerable spots. Each blow landed with a resounding crack, the golden light of his blade searing into the creature's flesh, exposing it.

"Sorcerers, focus your spells on its underbelly! Lock it into place!" Garth shouted, his voice cutting through the din. "Scouts, keep it distracted! Guardians, hold the line!"

The soldiers scrambled to obey, their movements fueled by a desperate hope. The sorcerers unleashed a barrage of spells, their incantations weaving into a storm of earth, ice, and darkness as chains formed, binding the worm's body. The scouts darted around the creature, their arrows embedded with magic peppering its sides as they tried to draw its attention.

The worm reared back, its body coiling like a spring as it prepared to strike. Garth stood his ground, his sword raised high. For a moment, everything seemed to slow—the soldiers' shouts, the crackling of spells, the trembling of the ground.

Then, with a roar that shook the mountains, the worm lunged.

Garth met it head-on, his blade slashing through the air in a blinding arc. The golden light flared, illuminating the pass as the sword struck the worm's maw. The creature let out a deafening screech, writhing as it recoiled.

But the victory was short-lived. The worm's tail whipped around, slamming into Garth with the force of a collapsing mountain. He was thrown backward, his body skidding across the ground as his sword clattered from his grasp.

"Garth!" Mirr shouted, his voice breaking. He watched in horror as Garth's mouth filled with blood. He felt powerless, his magic no match for such a monster.

The worm recovered from the attack, its bloody maw opening wide as it lunged at Garth, craving revenge on the man who had hurt it. Weakly, Garth raised his arm, forming two circles in the air—one of fire and the other of wind. The fire was captured in a tornado of wind, creating a pillar of flame that launched into the worm's mouth. Flames scorched through its open maw, causing the creature to scream in agony. It thrashed violently before finally collapsing, its massive body going still.

No one moved for a moment, the silence heavy with disbelief. Then, a wave of relief swept through the soldiers. Over 150 had been killed, and nearly 2,000 more were injured, but the Titan Worm was dead.

Mirr ran to Garth, his face pale with worry. "Hang on. I've got a potion," he said, digging through his bag for a red vial. He lifted it to Garth's lips, his hands trembling.

Garth coughed as he swallowed the potion, the pain slowly fading from his expression. "I'm fine," he said calmly. "Make sure the others get help."

Mirr nodded, his heart still racing as he watched the healers move among the injured. The battle was over, but the cost had been steep. Bodies lay scattered across the pass, some motionless, others groaning in pain. The air was thick with the acrid smell of burnt earth and blood, a grim reminder of the Titan Worm's rampage.

Garth closed his eyes momentarily, his chest rising and falling with slow, deliberate breaths as he tried to recover some of the energy he had spent in the fight. His face was pale, his armor dented and scorched, but his presence remained unshaken. Mirr couldn't help but feel a surge of admiration—and guilt. He had been powerless to help, and the thought gnawed at him.

Not far off, a hulking man with a twisted mustache watched the scene with a grim expression. Orlen sealed the bait bag he'd opened, the faint scent of whatever had drawn the Titan Worm quickly fading. He couldn't afford to risk another one showing up—not now.

His eyes narrowed as they shifted to Garth, still breathing, still standing. The Duke proved to be more challenging than he'd anticipated. The salamander he'd sent earlier had been quickly dispatched, not causing any trouble for Garth. But the Titan Worm had done its damage, even if it hadn't finished the job.

"This mission is harder than I thought," Orlen muttered, his voice low and gravelly. He clenched his fists, his mind racing. Garth's abilities were more formidable than they seemed—much more capable. But from watching this encounter, one thing was clear: Garth was still mortal. Orlen just needed to wait for the perfect moment to strike.