chapter 7.4

After a long journey filled with danger, Alcard's group finally reached the boundary of the mountain region. Before them, Mount Orcal loomed high, its peak shrouded in dark clouds swirling like an endless storm. The air around the mountain felt increasingly heavy, filled with the stinging scent of sulfur, making every breath feel like inhaling thick smoke.

A young Outcast gazed at the mountain, his expression a mix of awe and fear. His voice was barely audible as he whispered, "So… this is Mount Orcal. No wonder there are so many terrifying stories about this place."

Alcard, standing at the front, remained silent for a moment before finally replying in a flat tone, "Those stories aren't just legends. Everything you've heard… even the most impossible-sounding ones… are likely true."

He signaled the group to halt at a rocky alcove, a relatively safer spot compared to the open trail, giving them a brief moment to recover their strength before climbing further. One of the Outcasts in charge of tracking supplies approached him with a worried expression, holding a logistics sheet covered in scribbled notes.

"Senior," he reported anxiously, "our supplies will only last for one more day. If we don't find the root soon, we'll be stranded here without food."

Alcard took in the information without a change in expression. He gave a small nod before calling all members of the group to gather under the shadow of a small cliff.

"Listen carefully," he said in a tone that left no room for argument. "We don't have much time. From now on, we will ascend the lower part of this mountain to search for Rotrofila Root. Our target is two full pouches, no less."

His gaze swept over the group, observing their tired and anxious faces. With a sharper tone, he continued, "Once we get what we came for, we descend immediately without stopping. I don't care how exhausted you are—I don't want to hear complaints. Mount Orcal is not a place to rest. Even a brief moment of sleep here could mean death."

Alcard pointed to the peak of the mountain, shrouded in thick mist. "Up there, everything can kill you. The toxic air, the unstable ground, even the shadows of the dead trees could spell disaster if you let your guard down. Do not lose focus, do not get distracted by anything. We did not come here to die—we came here to survive."

One of the younger and quieter members hesitantly spoke, his voice almost trembling. "S-Senior… why do we have to keep going? Isn't this already too dangerous? We could turn back with whatever we've found so far."

Alcard's gaze locked onto the young man's eyes—cold, emotionless. "This isn't about you or me," he answered in a low yet sharp tone, like the edge of a blade. "Every step we take, every wound we endure, is not for ourselves. We do this so that the other Outcasts can survive. If we fail, the supply of Bloody Potion at The Wall will run out. Without it, we won't have the strength to fight the ever-evolving monsters. Without us, there will be no one strong enough to protect Middle Earth."

He let his words linger in the heavy silence before adding, his voice even colder, "You knew the risks from the start. If you weren't ready, you shouldn't have come. But now, we're here, and we will finish this mission."

No one dared to argue. They knew Alcard wasn't speaking out of arrogance—he was reminding them of an undeniable reality.

Without wasting any more time, the group began their ascent, climbing the increasingly steep rocky path. The air grew denser, as if each step they took was being swallowed by the dark energy seeping from the ground itself. Their breathing became more labored, not just from the incline, but from the relentless mental pressure weighing down on them.

As they climbed, they began to notice the unsettling abnormalities in their surroundings:

Dead trees with roots protruding from the ground like massive tentacles, seemingly trying to ensnare anyone who passed.Black-shelled insects, almost the size of a human hand, hiding in the cracks of the rocks, emitting an unnatural hissing sound.A deep, distant roar echoing through the rocky valleys, a sound that hinted at the presence of something far larger than anything they had ever faced before.

Alcard stopped momentarily and turned back. "Stay close to the group," he commanded. "If anyone falls behind, we will not wait. This mountain does not offer second chances."

The Outcasts swallowed hard. They had seen many terrifying things on their journey, but Mount Orcal exuded a presence far more sinister than anything they had ever encountered.

But there was no time for fear. They had to keep moving.

Step by step, the group pressed forward, climbing higher along the increasingly treacherous rocky path. Meanwhile, in the distance, the mist surrounding Mount Orcal seemed to shift—almost as if it had become aware of their presence and was waiting for the perfect moment to swallow them whole.

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