Borne woke from his sleep, slowly opening his eyes and stretching his body.
He felt his muscles relax, the tension releasing after a much-needed rest.
It had been a long time since he'd slept so soundly.
He recalled the events of the previous day.
Just before nightfall, the three of them had finally reached the village.
Though small and run-down, the village had clearly made some preparations.
A deacon had overseen the villagers in digging traps and constructing makeshift fortifications, allowing them to survive multiple beast attacks.
Last night, the three of them had stood outside the fortifications, shouting for what felt like an eternity.
Finally, a few anxious villagers peeked over the walls, gripping their weapons tightly.
Their faces were filled with distrust, wary of outsiders.
Haywood's voice rang out, loud and confident.
"We seek shelter! Please let us in!"
The villagers exchanged uncertain glances, clearly not inclined to trust them right away.
After several minutes, a man wearing a deacon's robe appeared, standing at the gate to inspect them.
He seemed to be in charge, and it was obvious the villagers deferred to his authority.
The deacon scrutinized Borne and his companions, noting their military uniforms and weary expressions.
After a tense moment, he finally nodded and signaled for the villagers to lower their guard.
The wooden gates creaked open, allowing Borne, Haywood, and Viktor to enter the fort.
Despite the village's defenses being rudimentary at best, simply having a place to rest was a huge relief.
"Thank you for your help," Borne said gratefully, his exhaustion evident.
The deacon nodded in acknowledgment, though his expression remained cautious.
"The magic beasts have been very active lately, and we've barely managed to defend ourselves.
You can rest for the night, but you'll have to continue your journey tomorrow," the deacon had said.
The three of them had found a corner against the fort's wall, where they could finally rest.
Though the conditions were humble, lying on simple straw mats, the sleep they had that night was a much-needed reprieve from their exhaustion.
When Borne, Haywood, and Viktor gathered their things the next morning, they realized that their supply of rations was dangerously low.
After days of travel and battles, they were almost out of food, with barely enough to sustain them for the journey ahead.
Haywood frowned, clearly concerned.
"We need to find a way to restock our supplies. Let's talk to the deacon and see if we can buy some rations."
The three of them approached the deacon who had let them in the night before.
He was busy directing the villagers, helping them repair the fortifications.
Seeing them approach, the deacon paused his work and looked at them with a questioning expression.
"Something you need?"
Without hesitation, Haywood spoke up.
"Deacon, we're running low on food. Is there any way we can purchase some rations from your village?"
The deacon thought for a moment, clearly aware that food was a scarce resource in the village.
He glanced over the three of them, noticing their military uniforms and weary faces. After a moment of contemplation, he made a decision.
"I understand the importance of your mission, being soldiers on the front line," he said, nodding. "
Our village doesn't have much in terms of supplies, but I can give you some rations.
However, we must ask for payment.
Our village needs to survive as well."
"Of course, we'll pay for it," Viktor responded immediately.
As the deacon led them to the village's storage, Borne, Haywood, and Viktor saw the meager stockpile of food.
It was clear the village's supplies were barely enough to sustain them.
Nonetheless, they managed to obtain some rations—mostly hard bread and dried meat.
Haywood handed over a small coin pouch. "This is what we owe you."
The deacon took the pouch, counting the copper coins inside, and nodded.
"This will suffice. I hope these rations help you through the rest of your journey."
"Thank you for your help," Borne said again, expressing his gratitude.
The deacon gave a final word of caution.
"Be careful. The magic beasts near the Celestoria Mountain Range have been growing more restless. The road ahead won't be easy."
Haywood gave a small smile.
"We'll be careful."
With that, Borne, Haywood, and Viktor led their warhorses out of the small village fortress.
The villagers had laid traps all around the perimeter, designed specifically to defend against sudden beast attacks.
As the three men made their way out, they moved cautiously, knowing that even a single misstep could prove fatal.
"Watch your step, don't want to end up in one of those traps," Haywood said in a low voice, his eyes scanning the path ahead.
The ground was covered with a thin layer of grass, and beneath that, hidden pits lined with sharpened stakes.
A careless step could lead to a deadly fall.
After walking a bit further, Viktor suddenly stopped and pointed ahead.
"There's a large pit over there—probably a triggered trap from a previous magic beast. Let's go around it."
Borne nodded, guiding his horse carefully around the dangerous area.
Their steps were deliberate, each one calculated to avoid the potential danger beneath the ground.
Finally, after some time of careful navigation, they made it past the last of the traps.
"We're finally out of the danger zone," Haywood said with a sigh of relief.
Haywood let out a breath, but his eyes remained sharp and vigilant.
"The road ahead will only get tougher," he said quietly.
"Let's move," Borne replied, his voice muffled through the cloth covering his face.
"We've got a lot of ground to cover.
We need to scout the outskirts of the Celestoria Mountain Range, figure out the movement of the magic beasts, and report back.
The main force needs to be prepared."
The cold wind howled around them as they neared the mountain range, carrying dust and a biting chill that stung their faces like a thousand tiny blades.
The three of them wrapped brown cloths around their mouths and noses, leaving only their squinting eyes exposed as they pressed forward.
The horses' hooves clomped against the weathered earth, the sound heavy and dull. Occasionally, they passed patches of dried blood and shattered bones scattered across the ground.
As they continued northward, the terrain grew steeper and more treacherous.
The bitter cold deepened, and the rocky ground made riding increasingly difficult. Soon, they had no choice but to dismount and proceed on foot.
The path ahead was littered with cracks and jagged stones, and wild, unkempt weeds sprung up in every direction.
The land seemed abandoned, forgotten by time.
Each step crunched over loose gravel, the sound echoing eerily in the stillness.
An unsettling atmosphere hung in the air, as if the land had been forsaken for years.
The deeper they ventured, the stronger the feeling of unease.
"Look at these footprints," Viktor suddenly said, pointing to the ground.
His expression darkened.
The earth was marked with an array of beastly tracks.
Some prints were enormous, as large as those of an elephant.
Others were narrower and more chaotic, crisscrossing over each other in a wild, disorganized pattern, showing clear signs of frequent beast activity.
Beside the prints were large splotches of dried blood, dark brown and old, evidence of past battles.
The stench in the air was suffocating, a mixture of old blood and the foul odor of decay.
"There was a fierce battle here once," Haywood muttered, crouching down to inspect the ground more closely.
"Judging by these tracks, there were a lot of magic beasts," he added grimly.
They pressed on, their path now strewn with more and more bones.
Scattered across the ground were the remains of both humans and magic beasts, some so weathered by time that they had turned a brittle, ghostly white.
Others still bore traces of dried blood, remnants of more recent battles.
A massive beast's corpse lay sprawled beside the road, its once-mighty fur long since fallen away, leaving only patches of yellowed skin stretched over a skeletal frame.
Its claws were buried deep in the earth, evidence of the violent struggle it must have endured before succumbing to death.
Nearby, several human bodies lay torn apart, their armor shattered and broken.
Their exposed flesh was riddled with deep wounds from savage bites and claw marks.
"These poor souls… they didn't stand a chance," Borne said, his voice laced with a sorrowful edge as his eyes moved over the remains.
The stench of blood was overwhelming, a sharp, metallic odor that seemed to cling to the air.
It crawled into their senses, making their skin prickle and their stomachs turn.
The ground itself was soaked with dried blood and remnants of battle, a stark reminder of the deadly threat that loomed nearby.
Haywood frowned, covering his nose with his hand, his eyes filled with heightened wariness.
"This entire area looks like it's been overrun," he muttered, glancing around with suspicion.
"The magic beasts are growing bolder and more active."