In fact, the ancient ruins in Gawain's memory—or rather, the remains—were not far from the camp. They were situated on the northern side of the Dark Mountain Range, mostly hidden within the mountain itself, with part of the structure exposed between the mountain cliffs. In theory, one could see portions of the structure nestled among the rocky cliffs hundreds of meters high if they simply looked up toward the distant Dark Mountains.
However, the passage of time had eroded the traces of civilization. Thick vines and mountain vegetation had covered the cliffs, concealing the ruins layer by layer. Combined with the collapse of the structures and the accumulation of rocks and soil, it was now difficult to discern any abnormality among the rocks and vines from the camp below. Even a keen-eyed hunter would have trouble spotting anything unusual on the mountainside.
After setting up the camp, Gawain and his group of four set off for the mountains. A mere decade wouldn't alter the natural landscape significantly, so with the satellite imagery in his mind from ten years ago, along with his memories of the mountain path, they quickly found the way up.
Amber seemed a bit anxious. "Hey... we're just a group of four heading into the Dark Mountains to hunt for treasure. Doesn't that sound a bit... risky?"
Gawain glanced at the half-elf. "So what do you suggest?"
Amber gestured wildly. "At the very least, we need a few hundred guards along the way, a dozen master rangers and druids holding the line, knights leading the front, mages watching the rear, and a master thief like me to handle traps and locks. Isn't that the standard setup for a mountain treasure hunt?"
"Standard my foot!" Gawain had thought she had something insightful to say, but it turned out to be nothing but nonsense. "What kind of treasure-hunting party is equipped like a full military regiment? And since it's so easy, why don't you organize such a group yourself?"
"Alright, I may have exaggerated a bit, but this is the Dark Mountains! The *Dark* Mountains!" Amber waved her arms dramatically. "According to legend, every eight hundred meters, there's a demon lord lurking here! And you're heading into the mountains with only three people, one of whom only knows how to cast fireballs..."
Rebecca bristled immediately, raising her staff and pointing it at Amber. "Do you want to see how strong the women of the Cecil family really are?"
Gawain quickly intervened, stopping his many-times-over granddaughter and giving Amber a weary look. "Your mouth is going to be the death of you. Also, where did you get the idea that there's a demon lord every eight hundred meters in the Dark Mountains? Those are just tales the ignorant peasants tell to scare kids. If there were that many demon lords, they would have overrun Ansu long ago."
As he spoke, he looked ahead at the winding mountain path.
"The Dark Mountains are indeed a dangerous place, but most people have exaggerated its risks. In reality, during the time of the Gondor Empire, this mountain range was merely one of the ordinary northern mountain ranges, known as one of the two major mountain systems of Loren along with the Highlands in the continent's southern region. Back then, the Dark Mountains weren't dark at all."
Gawain recounted his knowledge, part of which was from his memories, and part of which was recent information he had picked up.
"The mountain's southern side is the real danger, where the Black Forest lies. It's the area directly exposed to the elemental storm's intense impact, which devastated the entire southern slope of the mountain range. Since then, it has become a cursed forest, and that's when people began calling this place the Dark Mountains."
He continued explaining, "The Black Forest on the other side is indeed perilous, but it's on the southern slope. This mountain range serves as a natural barrier, nearly blocking out all the cursed aura from the Gondor Wastelands on the other side."
Most of the mutated monsters living in the Black Forest rely on chaotic magical energy to survive. Therefore, they never leave the forest, let alone cross the ridge to reach the northern regions of the mountain, which would be suffocating for them. As a result, the northern side of the Dark Mountains is actually quite safe.
The path Gawain chose didn't have much plant cover, though here and there, trees and vines would block the way. These resilient plants growing in the Dark Mountain region were somewhat affected by the lingering aura of the wasteland—the so-called "Elemental Wind," as mentioned by Baron Andrew. This wind, which blew from the south each year, carried a trace amount of corrupted elemental energy. Under its influence, the plants appeared twisted and unnaturally robust, almost giving off a sinister, terrifying vibe.
But Gawain knew that despite their intimidating appearance, these plants posed no real threat. They were just "strong" plants—nothing more. Noble youths who boasted about "surviving" the Black Forest after wandering around the northern mountains didn't understand what the true Black Forest was like. They were simply exaggerating the dangers of this land.
He was confident that the pollution on the northern side of the Dark Mountains had receded, not because of the information in his memory or recent inquiries, but because of the satellite imagery from ten years ago. By comparing the satellite images with the data in his memory, it was easy to confirm that this region was now a safe zone.
"The fear people have of this place stems from two main factors," Gawain said as he chopped through the blocking plants. "First, it's the fear of the Gondor Wastelands. Although the Elves' Watchtower and the Great Wall sealed off most of the wasteland, that magical barrier only blocks about seventy to eighty percent of the chaotic magical energy. Every year, the corruptive forces leaking out of the Gondor Wasteland become the greatest threat to the Four Kingdoms' borders. Even though the magical storm's aftermath has receded, the fear and pressure built up by the border people over generations haven't dissipated quickly. The terrifying legends of this region have been passed down for seven hundred years and have become ingrained in their culture."
He chopped through a particularly stubborn vine and casually continued, "The second source of fear... is the fear of the unknown."
"The unknown?" Amber frowned and asked.
"Yes, the unknown. How many years has it been since Ansu Kingdom halted its southern expansion?"
Rebecca answered, "If we count from when the order to stop expansion was issued, it's been over two hundred years. If we count from when all the expansion settlements were abandoned, it's been a hundred years."
"Exactly, at least a hundred years. For a full century, this region has been marked as off-limits. Aside from those adventurers who go back and boast about their 'adventures,' no one dares to approach this area. No one knows what it's really like. They only understand it through terrifying stories passed down through generations and exaggerated accounts from adventurers. How could they not be afraid?"
After Gawain's lengthy explanation, Amber finally relaxed. "Phew… So, the terrifying stories about the Dark Mountains are all just exaggerations? Actually, we're safe here?"
Gawain thought for a moment and suddenly wore a very serious, almost menacing expression as he leaned toward Amber. "Actually, I lied to you. This place is eerie, dangerous, chaotic, and terrifying. And there's a demon lord every eight hundred meters."
Amber froze in shock. "Eeek!"
Gawain laughed, clearly satisfied with his little joke. He patted Rebecca's head and pointed to a fallen log not far ahead. "Your fireball spell might come in handy here. Blow that thing up. If I remember correctly, we're almost there."
Rebecca, who had been eagerly waiting for this moment, immediately nodded enthusiastically and raised her staff, sending a fireball the size of a head shooting forward.
It seemed like she was casting fireballs faster than before…
With a huge explosion, the fireball detonated. The decayed and brittle log was blown in two, tumbling down the mountainside as the path cleared up ahead. Before them lay an open area, hidden deep within the mountain.
This open space seemed to have been deliberately flattened, with the surrounding rocks carved into an impossibly neat and uniform shape. Among the rocks, one could see ancient arches and collapsed walls, seemingly "embedded" in the cliffs as though they were part of the mountain itself. It gave the impression that there had once been a grand fortress here, slowly swallowed by the surrounding stones.
In fact, the ancient ruins were built into the mountain itself, with about two-thirds of its structure hidden behind the stone walls.
As Gawain and his companions gazed at the ruins in awe, Amber, who had been complaining the entire journey, Rebecca, who had been listening intently to Gawain's history lessons, and Sir Byron, who remained ever vigilant, all stood frozen in surprise.
They stared, wide-eyed, at the awe-inspiring ruins before them.
Gawain's eyes darted around the surroundings and suddenly stopped at a pile of collapsed rocks. He moved toward it and noticed a dark, almost unrecognizable object lodged in the stones. After a careful inspection, he realized it was an old, heavily rusted, and decayed broken sword.
Beside the stone pile, Gawain noticed a deep engraving on the ground. It was so well-worn that it had survived seven hundred years of weathering, yet it remained clearly visible: "Squad 16, Cole rests here."
Rebecca's voice came from behind him. "What is this?"
Gawain paused for a moment before answering slowly, "The squad was ambushed while crossing the Whitewater River. Squad 16 was in charge of the rear guard... and not a single person survived."
He continued, "It's likely that the last remaining soldiers retreated here when escape became impossible. Unfortunately... at that time, the magical storm was raging. The entire Dark Mountain range was shrouded in corrupting elemental forces. In my lifetime, we never reclaimed this land. By the time the storm's effects naturally receded, no one remembered this place anymore."
Sir Byron dismounted, unsheathed his sword, and pressed it to his chest in salute to the simple burial site.
The soldier buried here had a grave, but the warrior who left the engraving, the one who built this memorial, had long since vanished without a trace.
Gawain stood silently for a moment before picking up a piece of rubble and placing it on top of the stone pile. "Don't worry. Everyone made it out alive."
At that moment, he hoped he was speaking as Gawain Cecil, not as the transmigrator.
Then, he walked toward the nearby archway. "Come with me. I'll show you what your ancestors left behind here."