chapter 12.4

The sky hung low and heavy with clouds, casting an eerie silence over the dense forest. The damp air clung to the leaves, remnants of last night's rain dripping onto the soft earth below. Their horses moved in steady strides along the muddy path, hooves sinking slightly into the softened ground, accompanied by the occasional snap of twigs and rustling leaves. A cool breeze swept through the towering trees on either side of the narrow trail, making the branches sway as if whispering secrets to one another.

Arwen sat tall upon her white steed, her gaze fixed on the road ahead, watching Alcard's unwavering posture as he led the way. His back remained straight, his shoulders tense with a perpetual sense of awareness, as if always anticipating danger. The silence between them was thick, only disturbed by the rhythmic clatter of hooves and the hushed murmurs of the wind. After a long moment, Arwen finally decided to break it, her voice soft but clear.

"Alcard," she called, hesitating briefly before continuing, "I've heard many stories about The Wall and the Outcasts. There are rumors… one of them says that you kill monsters and drink their blood. That's why your eyes turn red. Is that true?"

Alcard slowed his horse slightly, turning his head just enough to glance at her. His expression remained unreadable, but there was something flickering in his gaze—an emotion too complex to define. A faint smirk played at the corner of his lips, a ghost of a smile that was neither amusement nor warmth, but rather a cold acknowledgment of the absurdity of such claims.

"Rumors are always more entertaining than the truth," he murmured, his voice low and dry. He turned his attention back to the road, subtly urging his horse forward. Yet, when he sensed that Arwen was still waiting for a clearer answer, he exhaled slowly and relented.

"No, our eyes don't turn red because of monster blood," he admitted, this time with a more serious tone. "It's the result of Bloody Potion—the elixir we must drink to survive at The Wall."

Arwen frowned slightly, intrigued by the name. "Bloody Potion?" she repeated, as if tasting the words. "Does it really contain blood? Is there some kind of ritual behind it?"

Alcard cast her a brief glance before refocusing on the narrowing trail ahead. "You're not entirely wrong," he said. "It does have a connection to blood, but not in the way people imagine. Most of its ingredients come from rare plants and minerals found only in the southern territories. Without Bloody Potion, we wouldn't stand a chance against the monsters beyond The Wall."

Arwen pressed her lips together, digesting this new information. The world was filled with secrets she had yet to uncover, and hearing the truth directly from an Outcast changed her perspective. She pondered for a moment before asking again, her voice quieter but still laced with curiosity.

"So the potion is the source of your strength… but you called it a curse. Why?"

Alcard remained silent for a moment, as if weighing his answer. When he finally spoke, his voice was heavier than before. "Because it changes us," he said simply. "Our red eyes mark us permanently. We look different. We're seen as something not entirely human anymore. No matter how much we sacrifice, the world will always see us as a threat."

Arwen lowered her head slightly, sensing the weight in his words. She could only imagine what it must be like—to fight, to bleed, to defend people who feared and rejected you. To be treated as a monster while protecting the very people who despised your existence.

A few moments passed in silence before she spoke again. "You said the Outcasts protect The Wall… but how? The Wall is massive, stretching far and high. How do you keep watch over all of it?"

Alcard let out a short, humorless chuckle, shaking his head. "That's just another story they tell," he said. "The truth is far less noble. We don't have enough people to guard the entire Wall. There are sections that have crumbled, outposts left abandoned. We can only hold onto a few places where we can still fight."

Arwen looked at him in shock. "But isn't that dangerous? If there are gaps in The Wall, wouldn't that mean the monsters could break through and invade Middle Earth?"

Alcard remained composed, his voice steady. "Of course it's a risk," he admitted. "But ask yourself—if the monsters had already slipped through those cracks, do you think Middle Earth would still be as peaceful as it is now?"

Arwen bit her lip, processing his words. His logic made sense, but it didn't make the reality any less terrifying. She let out a slow breath before murmuring, "So… the gaps still exist as a threat, even if they haven't been used?"

"Threats always exist," Alcard replied. "But it's our job to make sure they stay in the south. With the little resources we have, we continue to stand between Middle Earth and the darkness beyond."

The silence that followed was no longer awkward, but rather contemplative. The quiet steps of their horses and the whispering breeze were the only sounds filling the air. Arwen now looked at Alcard with a newfound understanding—not just as an Outcast, but as a soldier burdened with a duty few recognized.

Behind his cold demeanor, behind his unwavering gaze, there was a story woven with sacrifice and unseen battles. His red eyes, once thought to be terrifying, now seemed like the mark of a warrior who had been forced to bear the weight of a world that never acknowledged him.

Arwen still had many questions, but she knew there would be a time to ask them. For now, she simply continued forward, realizing that the world she had always known was only a fraction of the truth.

As the sky darkened, the air grew colder, and the shadows stretched long across the ground. Alcard led the way, his black steed moving confidently over the uneven path. Arwen followed closely behind, her thoughts heavy with the knowledge she had just gained.

Their journey continued into the unknown, each step forward bringing them closer to the truths that had long been hidden beyond The Wall.

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