chapter 6.3

The air in the southern forest felt heavier than usual, thick with humidity that clung to the skin and the sharp scent of damp earth that filled the air. Towering trees loomed over them, their sprawling roots snaking across the ground like hidden traps waiting for the careless. The atmosphere was unsettling—there were no sounds of birds, no rustling of small creatures, just an eerie stillness as if the entire forest was holding its breath.

At the front of the formation, Alcard sat tall upon his black steed, his red eyes scanning every inch of their surroundings. The hoofbeats of their horses were measured and cautious, stepping onto moss-covered ground with careful precision. Occasionally, a dry twig snapped underfoot, the only sound breaking the unnatural silence. Behind him, the Outcasts moved in tight formation, their faces tense, their hands never straying too far from their weapons.

Yet, there was something more disturbing than just the unnatural silence.

The horses were restless. Their ears twitched erratically, hooves shifting uneasily as if they could sense an invisible presence lurking beyond the trees. Some snorted heavily, their coats slick with sweat despite the cool air. Several Outcasts struggled to calm their mounts, but the nervous huffing and erratic movements only confirmed what they all feared—something was out there.

Finally, one of the newer recruits couldn't hold back his anxiety. His voice barely a whisper, trembling with unease.

"Why are the horses acting like this? They—they know something isn't right, don't they?"

Alcard didn't answer immediately. Instead, he raised one hand, signaling the entire group to halt. Without hesitation, he dismounted, kneeling to press his palm against the damp earth. He closed his eyes, his sharp senses tuning into the vibrations beneath them.

"Quiet…" His voice was low, but undeniable in its authority.

Instantly, the entire group froze. No one moved. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.

Then, they heard it.

Thud… thud… thud…

Heavy footfalls, deep and rhythmic, reverberated through the ground, growing closer with each step. A guttural growl followed—a sound low, rough, and unnatural, like death itself breathing through the trees.

The branches began to sway, not from the wind, but from something massive moving beyond the dense foliage. The Outcasts tensed immediately, their hands gripping the hilts of their weapons.

One of them, his breathing uneven, murmured under his breath.

"Boss… what is that?"

Alcard didn't respond immediately, his expression sharpening. He recognized that rhythm, that tremor in the earth.

He had faced this before.

"Ogre," he murmured, almost as if the word itself carried weight.

And then, they appeared.

Two massive figures emerged from behind a fallen tree, their bulky forms illuminated by the dim light filtering through the canopy. But these were no ordinary ogres.

Their skin was darker, mottled with unnatural scars, and thick, greenish veins pulsed along their arms and chests, as if some corrupting force had tainted them. Their eyes—red, glowing with unnatural hunger—locked onto the group with terrifying intent.

Alcard's gaze narrowed slightly, his suspicions confirmed.

"And they're contaminated…" he muttered to himself.

One of the ogres lifted its massive head, sniffing the air, assessing its prey. Then, it let out an earth-shaking roar, the sheer force of the sound sending vibrations through their chests.

-GRRAAAAHHHH!!!

The younger Outcasts flinched instinctively, some nearly stepping back, but Alcard didn't move. Seeing their leader stand firm, they forced themselves to hold their ground.

The second ogre, even larger than the first, slowly raised its crude weapon—a massive tree trunk, as thick as a man's torso. Deliberate. Methodical. They were not rushing. They were measuring the situation.

The ground shuddered beneath their weight.

The air grew colder.

The Outcasts tightened their grips on their weapons, sweat beading on their foreheads despite the cool forest air.

Alcard exhaled sharply, his body already adjusting to the surge of adrenaline coursing through him. His red eyes burned brighter in the fading light. He knew there were only seconds left before the battle began.

Without taking his eyes off their enemies, he spoke, his voice steady and absolute.

"Prepare yourselves."

No one dared breathe.

The fight was about to begin.