After finishing breakfast, Borne and his comrades quickly packed up and resumed their march.
As they drew closer to the Celestoria Mountain Range, training sessions became shorter, and their sole task now was to keep moving forward.
The path grew increasingly rugged, and the temperature gradually dropped.
Though the sun still blazed overhead, the difference between day and night temperatures became more noticeable, with the morning and evening winds biting harder.
Borne occasionally tightened his coat, yet the piercing cold still seeped through the fabric, chilling his skin.
The march felt particularly arduous, especially as the terrain became steeper. The soldiers' steps grew heavier with each passing hour.
Through the squad leader, Borne and his team learned that they had now entered the outer perimeter of the Celestoria Mountain Range.
In two days, they would reach the base of the mountains.
This news stirred a mixture of unease and heightened alertness among the troops.
What unsettled Borne even more wasn't the potential threat of magic beasts but the noticeable decrease in their activity along the way.
They should have encountered many signs of magic beasts by now, but it was eerily quiet.
All the creatures seemed to have retreated into hiding, and an unspoken tension lingered in the air, like the calm before a storm.
Everything around them seemed lifeless. Even the wind had ceased its howling.
The birds no longer sang, and no wild animals crossed their path.
A strange stillness settled over the marching soldiers.
The troop moved in an eerie silence, each person walking with their head lowered, focused solely on their steps.
The only sound breaking the quiet was the faint crunching of gravel and sand beneath their feet.
No one spoke, and no one engaged in conversation.
The heavy atmosphere weighed down on the entire company, as if each person carried an invisible burden.
Borne lifted his head, his gaze sweeping across the endless expanse of the Celestoria Mountain Range.
The towering peaks stretched like an unending barrier, standing tall between the heavens and the earth.
The towering peaks seemed to pierce the clouds, their silhouettes shrouded in a thin mist, disappearing and reappearing, lending an air of mystery and fear.
Sunlight bathed the majestic mountains, yet it failed to dispel the lurking shadows.
Instead, it intensified the cold unease rising within Borne.
"Celestoria Mountain Range..."
Borne silently repeated the name, feeling the weight of its presence.
These mountains had always been a haven for magic beasts, a place where many brave souls had ventured, but none returned unscathed.
Whether it was ordinary wild creatures or powerful magic beasts imbued with elemental power, they lurked somewhere in this range, waiting for their next hunt.
Borne's gaze drifted across the layers of mountains, and in his mind's eye, he imagined the massive forms of these creatures prowling the landscape, claws and fangs glinting in the darkness, their cold eyes fixed on the intruders.
It felt as though the moment they set foot in this forbidden land, they would become prey to these beasts.
He sighed softly, pulling his coat tighter around him, the unease within him deepening.
"How many magic beasts are hiding in here..."
Borne muttered under his breath, as if asking himself, or perhaps the mountain range itself.
At last, it was time for lunch. The army halted, taking a short break.
The soldiers dropped their heavy packs and sat on the ground, their faces etched with exhaustion.
Everyone in the company knew that this break would last only an hour before they would have to march on.
Borne sat on a rock, staring down at the black bread in his hand.
The bread had become as hard as stone.
Taking a bite not only made it difficult to swallow, but he could also feel small splinters of wood mixed within.
Every chew sent a dull ache through his teeth, but this was the best food they had.
Meat had long become a luxury.
A few days earlier, the only source of meat had been the captain
Khazix's lucky catch of a rat.
Borne and his nine comrades had carefully divided the tiny creature.
The portion he received was so meager it couldn't even fill a gap between his teeth.
Borne tore off a small piece of the black bread, placing it in his mouth and chewing with difficulty.
His mouth was filled with a dry and bitter taste, and his stomach had long been empty, making even this hard bread difficult to swallow.
His comrades around him were in the same situation, each silently staring at the ground, their faces etched with the deep marks of fatigue and hunger.
"Even jerky has been a rare sight for a while now..."
Borne muttered softly to himself, recalling the times during their marches when they could at least have a piece of dried meat, which now seemed like a distant luxury.
The soldiers around him sat wearily, leaning against rocks or tree trunks, gripping their bread as they silently endured this bitter reality.
Borne wiped the sweat from his forehead with his hand, closing his eyes in an attempt to recover a bit of energy during this brief moment of rest.
After a long day of arduous marching, night finally came.
The soldiers gathered around the campfire, their faces marked by exhaustion.
The flames flickered, casting their glow on each weary face.
Finally, their tiring march had paused, allowing them to enjoy a moment of peace.
The captain Khazix stood by the fire, clearing his throat as he glanced around at the tired but expectant soldiers before speaking.
"Tonight, five priests will be inspecting the camp.
They will be offering you all some words of encouragement, so be on your best behavior."
Upon hearing this, the previously quiet soldiers suddenly stirred, their suppressed silence and tension from the day quickly giving way to murmurs of excitement.
Everyone began to chat in low voices, an unusual look of anticipation lighting up their faces.
This would be their first chance to see the army's commanders—those legendary figures who wielded immense power through their divine roles.
Even Borne couldn't help but feel a surge of anticipation.
Since the night he had witnessed Father Raphael's awe-inspiring display of the divine sword of light, countless questions had been swirling in his mind.
What was that tooth?
Who was that mysterious child?
These questions had been troubling him, and tonight he would finally have the opportunity to meet Father Raphael again.
Borne watched the flickering flames of the campfire, his thoughts churning like the dancing flames.
The tooth still lay quietly in Borne's pouch, as if it had never shown any signs of life.
Ever since the mysterious child appeared in Borne's spiritual world, the tooth had remained utterly silent.
Borne had taken it out more than once, carefully examining the ancient relic.
No matter how closely he observed or tried to sense any energy from it, the tooth remained calm, as if it were just an ordinary artifact.
Borne's confusion deepened.
That night, the tooth had unleashed an immense power, summoning a massive wave, and the appearance of the child had left him bewildered.
He had thought the tooth would once again display some sort of mysterious power like it had that night, but reality disappointed him.
Around the campfire, the soldiers continued their enthusiastic discussions about the arrival of the five father, especially the anticipated appearance of Father Raphael.
Their voices were filled with awe and curiosity, as rumors of that night had already spread throughout the entire army.
Some said Father Raphael possessed angelic powers, capable of summoning countless swords of light from the heavens.
The depths of Father Raphael's power were unfathomable, and perhaps he knew the secret behind the tooth—or even the identity of that mysterious child.
Borne recalled the expression on Father Raphael's face when he handed him the tooth—it had been calm and profound.
"It may save your life, but that depends on whether you share a destiny with it."
"Destiny..."
Borne murmured to himself, his mind replaying the priest's words.
He hadn't understood them at the time, but now the questions swirled more than ever.
Clenching his fist, a strong desire surged in his heart.
The chatter around the campfire slowly quieted as the soldiers' anticipation reached its peak.