chapter 7.5

After a long journey filled with caution, Alcard's group finally arrived at an area that felt distinct from the forest they had traversed before. The ground here was covered in massive dark red roots, resembling pulsating veins with embers glowing faintly beneath the surface. A deep silence enveloped the area, creating an eerie atmosphere, as if the entire forest was holding its breath—reluctant to disturb something unseen.

One of the novice Outcasts swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper as he spoke, "Boss… this is the place, isn't it?"

Alcard stepped forward, pressing the tip of his finger against one of the roots before unsheathing his dagger to make a shallow cut. As the outer layer peeled away, a dark red liquid seeped out, slightly thick and carrying a sharp scent—like damp earth mixed with metal.

"Rotrofila Root," he murmured, confirming their find. "But this isn't enough. We need more."

They stood in a small ravine surrounded by towering rock walls. While this location provided some protection from the gaze of wild creatures, it also created a sense of entrapment. If something were to attack them here, there would be little room to escape.

Behind them, the horses began showing signs of unease. Their ears twitched, hooves stomped restlessly against the ground, and some even tugged at their reins as if they wanted to turn back.

One of the Outcasts glanced at Alcard, uncertainty on his face. "They don't like this place, Senior."

Without shifting his gaze from their surroundings, Alcard replied curtly, "Not just them. We all need to stay on guard."

Without wasting time, the Outcasts got to work. They carefully extracted the roots, using small knives to avoid damaging them. However, the task proved more difficult than expected. The Rotrofila Root had a structure as hard as steel, requiring precise techniques to cut through.

A novice Outcast attempted to break one of the roots with his axe, but the impact only created a loud, echoing sound.

Alcard's head snapped toward him, his gaze sharp. "Don't use the large axe," he commanded firmly. "Use small hatchets, swords, or daggers. The big axe is too loud. We don't know what might hear us in this place."

They resumed their work, this time with greater caution. Hours passed, and they managed to fill one large pouch with neatly cut roots. Alcard inspected the contents and gave a small nod, though his expression remained serious.

"One bag is full," he said, his tone still cold. "But we need two. We're not done yet."

One of the exhausted Outcasts lifted his head, breathing heavily. "Captain… this one bag should be enough. This place is too dangerous. We should leave."

Alcard's crimson eyes glowed under the shadow of the cliff as he stared at him. "If we stop now, everything we've done will be wasted," he stated sharply. "One bag is not enough to sustain The Wall. If we don't finish this task, no one will have the strength to survive in the north."

No one dared to argue. They knew Alcard was right.

However, as they prepared to gather more roots, the atmosphere around them began to change. The previously still air grew heavier, pressing down on them. Some of the Outcasts exchanged uneasy glances, the growing anxiety evident on their faces.

"I… feel like we're being watched," one of them whispered.

Alcard did not dismiss the feeling. He had sensed it since they arrived. Keeping his expression calm, he replied, "You're not wrong. This mountain is always watching anyone who dares to enter its territory."

Their horses grew even more restless. Some started pulling hard at their reins, nearly breaking free in panic. One even nearly collapsed in its struggle to escape.

Alcard quickly raised his hand, issuing a command. "Hold your positions. Don't make excessive noise. If we attract attention, we won't leave here alive."

The Outcasts tightened their grips on their weapons, though their hands trembled slightly. Alcard remained poised, his sharp eyes scanning the surroundings for any sign of danger. His hand instinctively gripped the hilt of his sword, ready to draw it the moment things turned worse.

In the thickening silence, they resumed moving, slowly navigating the narrow path between the massive roots that sprawled in all directions. Each step felt heavier than the last. The towering rock formations around them seemed to close in, narrowing their way out.

Their mission was far from over, and the threats lurking in Mount Orcal had yet to fully reveal themselves. But one thing was certain—every second they spent in this place only lessened their chances of making it out alive.

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