chapter 6.5

After the fierce battle against the two mutated Ogres, the southern forest once again sank into an eerie silence. The lingering scent of blood mixed with the damp air after the rain, creating an increasingly heavy atmosphere. The Outcasts quickly moved to drag the Ogre corpses behind thick bushes and fallen trees, trying to conceal the traces of battle to avoid attracting other monsters that might be lurking in the darkness of the woods.

Alcard stood firmly at the front of the group, leading the way deeper into the forest. His red eyes constantly scanned every movement among the shadows of the trees, his ears sharp enough to catch even the slightest sound. His steps were steady, though he knew that danger lurked at every corner of the path they took.

Behind him, some of the Outcasts paused for a moment, checking the minor wounds they had sustained in the previous battle. Though mostly just scratches and bruises, exhaustion was beginning to show on their faces. However, none of them complained. They understood that this mission was far from over, and giving up was not an option.

"We move on," Alcard said, his sharp voice cutting through the heavy silence that hung between them. His hand gripped a small compass, ensuring they stayed on the right path, even as the trail ahead became increasingly difficult to traverse, with tangled roots spreading across the ground and the soil turning into slippery mud.

As they ventured deeper, the forest grew darker. The thick canopy above blocked out the sunlight, preventing it from reaching the forest floor. The atmosphere became more oppressive, as if the forest itself rejected their presence. Wet branches swayed gently in the wind, while the rustling from the underbrush heightened the Outcasts' alertness.

Alcard suddenly halted in a shaded clearing filled with creeping vines, semi-purple blossoms, and greenish leaves draping along the trunk of an ancient tree. He studied it for a moment before pointing at the plant. "Folwestian Bloom," he said. "You know how to harvest it. Make sure the roots remain intact. We need two large pouches."

Without wasting time, the Outcasts quickly got to work. They pulled small knives from their sheaths, put on gloves to avoid the plant's irritating sap, and carefully began harvesting. The soft sound of slicing echoed as the blossoms were precisely picked. Their fabric pouches gradually filled, while the scent of soil and sap spread through the air.

While the others focused on gathering the plants, Alcard remained vigilant. His eyes continuously scanned the forest around them, watching for any shifting shadows and ensuring no creatures approached. He would not allow another Ogre attack to catch them off guard.

In the distance, the cry of a wild bird pierced the silence, making him even more alert. He turned to the Outcasts and whispered sharply, "Be careful. We are still on a route frequently traveled by monsters from the south."

The Outcasts nodded, quickening their pace, fully aware that their time here was limited. After a while, the two large pouches were filled with Folwestian Bloom. Some of them sighed in relief, though their bodies remained tense, the fear not yet fully dissipated.

"Good," Alcard said, his gaze sweeping over their gathered supplies with satisfaction. "This should be enough."

But before they could feel too relieved, he added sternly, "Remember, obtaining these flowers is far easier than what comes next."

His serious expression made them refocus. He looked at each of them before continuing, "Rotrofila Root only grows at the base of Mount Orcal." He paused, letting his words sink in before adding, "That is the most dangerous territory. Rumors say that the southern mutations are directly influenced by the aura of the black dragon. The terrain is harsh, and the threats are far greater."

The Outcasts exchanged uneasy glances, some swallowing nervously. Fear flickered across their faces, but alongside it, a sense of duty as Outcasts slowly began to strengthen in their hearts. There was no other choice but to move forward.

"We'll rest for a short while before continuing," Alcard said, examining the worn map in his hand. "Use this time to recover your strength. Our journey is far from over."

They had no idea how long they could rest before danger struck again. The shadow of Mount Orcal had already taken root in their minds, and the rumors surrounding that place could not be ignored. It was said to be the worst breeding ground for mutations—a place where creatures that should not exist lurked in the darkness, ready to strike at anyone who dared venture too far into their domain.

But their choice had been made from the beginning. There was no turning back. This mission had to succeed—for their survival, for The Wall.

They sat among the massive tree roots, trying to steady their breathing and ease their tension. But in the silence they created, the forest never truly slept. Something was waiting in the darkness, watching their every move.