chapter 3.6

The fading twilight slowly surrendered to darkness as the four Outcasts stood atop the stone balcony of The Wall's central headquarters. From their elevated position, they overlooked the lower courtyard, where several Outcasts went about their routines—some completing their tasks, others simply resting after another grueling day of survival in a place that offered no room for weakness.

Breaking the silence, Alcard turned to Boreas, his brows slightly raised. "If the northern dragon truly exists… What do you think, Boreas?" His tone was flat, but a faint curiosity lurked beneath his words.

Boreas, standing with his usual firm posture, let out a short chuckle, though there was a flicker of doubt in his eyes. "The northern dragon? Hah, just a myth to help people sleep better at night. But…" He stroked his chin, as if recalling a long-buried memory. "I've heard strange stories before. Long ago, before the rise of the Hamongrad Empire, there was an ancient kingdom in the north that worshipped a colossal white dragon. They believed it wasn't just their protector but the true ruler of the frozen lands."

Edda, walking lazily beside them, chimed in, her voice half-curious, half-skeptical. "I've heard something similar. Some claim to have seen massive claw marks in the snow-covered valleys. The locals call it the 'mountain giant.' Whether it's a dragon or just their imagination after living in the cold too long… who knows?"

Alcard nodded slowly, his gaze dropping to the stone floor beneath their feet. "If the northern dragon is real, then we're talking about a creature far beyond the monsters of the south. A single breath—whether of fire or ice—could wipe out half a kingdom in an instant." His voice deepened, as if already envisioning the worst-case scenario.

Thornek, who had remained silent up to this point, finally murmured in his usual stoic tone. "Or it's all lies. Edenvila's nobles love to create grand tales to make themselves seem more important than they are."

Edda shrugged lightly, a small, sarcastic smirk forming on her lips. "Lie or not, we're still getting paid. And if that dragon does exist, we just need to be smart enough not to fight it. Our job is just to guard the idiot nobles who want to see it."

Alcard heard her words but didn't respond immediately. Instead, he turned to Boreas and Edda, his gaze sharpening. "But something doesn't sit right with me. Edenvila isn't a weak kingdom. They have more than enough soldiers to handle their own monsters. If they're hiring Outcasts for this expedition, there are only two possibilities: either they're hiding something… or this is a trap."

Boreas frowned, his expression growing more serious. "A trap?" he repeated, his voice lowering.

Alcard nodded, keeping his voice just low enough that others below wouldn't hear. "If they're using you as the vanguard, your survival chances will be slim. This could be a disguised suicide mission. I suggest you bring extra Bloody Potion. Never lower your guard—and don't trust anyone in that expedition too easily."

Edda's eyes narrowed, a newfound alertness replacing her usual casual demeanor. "Then we should prepare for the worst."

Thornek, who had been quietly observing, suddenly spoke again. His voice was calm but carried an undeniable weight. "If this mission came from Edenvila's Prime Minister, then you two should be even more cautious." His piercing gaze flickered between Boreas and Edda. "That man… he's notorious for his cunning. No decision he makes is without personal gain. If this is his doing, then you're just pawns in a larger game. If things turn bad, don't hesitate to retreat."

Boreas' eyes narrowed further. "So you think Edenvila's Prime Minister is behind this?"

Thornek gave a slow nod. "I can't say for certain. But if he is, then this mission is more dangerous than we initially thought. Edenvila may be strong, but their political games are deadlier than any monster."

A heavy silence fell over them once more, each one lost in their own thoughts, weighing the grim possibilities that lay ahead in the frozen north. Finally, Boreas reached out and clapped Alcard's shoulder, offering a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"The headquarters will be fine in your hands, Alcard. This time, you can afford to relax."

Alcard merely smirked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Don't count on it. This is The Wall. Something always ruins any plans for relaxation."

Thornek gave a brief nod, his eyes fixed on the darkening horizon. "The Wall never gives anyone time to rest."

Without further words, the three Outcasts parted ways, each preparing for the long journey ahead. Their steps were steady, but the weight of uncertainty hung heavy upon their shoulders.

As the air grew colder, the lingering thought of the white dragon remained in their minds. Myth or reality, one thing was certain—Edenvila never requested Outcasts for something trivial.

And as Outcasts, they had to be ready for anything—whether it was a legendary beast… or the far more insidious lies of men.