chapter 9.1

The evening's cold wind, which had long since vanished, swept across the peak of The Wall, carrying the scent of dry earth and rusted steel. A watchman stood atop the observation tower, gripping an old telescope, its surface marred with scratches from years of use. His gaze scanned the southern forest—a region that was usually still, disturbed only by the occasional gust of wind. But today, something was different.

The distant treetops swayed unnaturally. Birds that normally perched high on the branches suddenly took flight in massive flocks, scattering in all directions as if fleeing from something. From afar, a deep, heavy rumbling could be heard—like the footsteps of a giant shaking the earth. The watchman tensed, his fingers tightening around the telescope's handle. His instincts screamed that this was no ordinary disturbance.

Without hesitation, he seized the warning bell's rope and rang it with all his strength. The sharp sound echoed across the fortress, sending a signal of imminent danger that could not be ignored. With a powerful voice, he shouted, "Monster attack! Large movement in the southern forest! Everyone, prepare for battle!"

At the central headquarters, Oldman sat at a massive wooden table, cluttered with maps and logistics reports. He was in the middle of reviewing supply records when the emergency bell rang throughout The Wall. As if his instincts had instantly kicked in, he rose swiftly from his chair, his eyes narrowing with caution. Urgent footsteps echoed down the hallway before an Outcast came rushing in, his face pale, breath labored.

"What's happening?" Oldman's deep, commanding voice carried no trace of panic.

The Outcast quickly responded, "The guards on The Wall report a massive attack from the southern forest! They say there are too many to count!"

Wasting no time, Oldman strode toward the ancient lift crafted by the Dwarves. Though its metal groaned with age, the mechanism remained strong enough to carry men to the top of The Wall. With authority, he stepped inside.

"Take me up. Now!" he ordered the inanimate structure.

As soon as the lift reached the top, Oldman stepped out and swiftly took the telescope from a nearby guard's hands. What he saw in the distance made his breath catch for a moment. Amidst the shifting shadows of the trees, hundreds of mutated monsters surged toward The Wall. The vanguard was led by a towering figure—a two-headed ogre, its grotesque form carrying a massive wooden beam capable of crushing anything in its path. Behind it, more mutated one-headed ogres charged with wild, frenzied movements. Black-skinned goblins with glowing red eyes clutched crude spears and blades, shrieking with vicious intent. Among them, giant direwolves sprinted gracefully, their fur bristling with sharp spines that gleamed under the fading sunlight.

Oldman took a deep breath, his expression hardening. "Damn it… This is far worse than I expected."

Shifting the telescope slightly forward, his eyes caught something else—a group of humans, fleeing at full speed, just a few strides ahead of the monstrous horde. One among them, with dark hair and a longsword strapped to his back, was leading the charge. Oldman instantly recognized him.

"That's Alcard!" he exclaimed, his jaw clenching.

The guard beside him peered through the telescope as well. "Who are they? Were they the ones sent for a monster-clearing mission?" he asked, confusion evident in his voice.

Oldman shook his head quickly. "They're Alcard's group! They've just returned from a mission gathering ingredients for the Bloody Potion in the south—but they're being chased!"

Without hesitation, he spun on his heel and roared toward the other guards, his voice carrying across the fortress. "Open the gates! Quickly! Prepare for a full-scale battle!"

The emergency bell rang again, sending waves of urgency through every Outcast in The Wall. Within moments, archers took their positions atop the fortress, bows drawn and arrows nocked. Down below, soldiers scrambled to arm themselves, forming defensive lines in front of the massive gate, which began creaking open with the weight of ancient steel chains groaning under pressure.

In the distance, Alcard and his group galloped forward with every ounce of strength left in their bodies. Their horses were barely holding on, muscles straining from exhaustion after their perilous journey. Just a few strides behind them, the two-headed ogre roared in fury, increasing its speed. The mutated goblins sprinted wildly, their primitive weapons raised, thirsting for blood. Mutated direwolves closed in from the flanks, circling like predators waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

The ogre's deafening roar grew closer—a harbinger of doom closing in.

Standing atop the fortress walls, Oldman's gaze burned with intensity as he called out, "Protect them! We're not just saving Alcard and his team—we're ensuring these monsters never breach The Wall!"

Bows were drawn taut, arrows poised for release, while swords gleamed in the last light of the setting sun. The Outcasts braced themselves, ready to face the storm of death about to crash against their gates.

Below, Alcard and his group raced against time, desperately trying to reach the gate before the monsters devoured them.

As the creaking gate inched open, only one question remained in the minds of those atop The Wall:

Would they make it inside before the monsters reached them?

And if they didn't…

Could The Wall withstand the oncoming storm of darkness?

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