Chapter 115: Escape

  When Ethan regained consciousness, he could only see utter darkness before him. There was no light, no sound around him. If not for the nearly suffocating stench of blood and the cold, hard sensation at his back, he would have thought he was already dead.

  But since he wasn't dead, where was this pitch-black, silent place? This stench was not unfamiliar. He had smelled this strange odor during the fights with Behemoths these past days, though never this intense.

  Although he couldn't move his body, his senses remained sharp. Mixed within the Behemoth's stench were the smells of excrement and decaying remains, plus another indescribable strange scent he couldn't identify. The air was very humid. He lay on a piece of cold, hard rock. This should be a Behemoth's cave. But not a sliver of light penetrated inside, making it impossible to know how deep into the mountain this cave extended.

  His last memory only went as far as drawing the blade, swinging it, releasing the boundless life force he had drawn from the Behemoth. At that moment, he felt the strike had drained the last shred of strength and consciousness from his body, and then he knew nothing more.

  What about the others? He had a vague impression that when he swung the blade, everyone seemed to have already collapsed to the ground. Had they all died? A pang of sorrow shot through him at the thought. Had these beastmen, who had fought and bled alongside him in the Sanderfirth Mountains, all perished, becoming food for Behemoths and gray marsupials? But if that were the case, why would he be inside a Behemoth's lair? Behemoths, these simple-minded monsters, never had the habit of storing food, let alone storing a living prey.

  Without even mentioning escaping quickly, it would be good just to stand up and observe his surroundings. But there was not a trace of usable strength in his body. All over him was only a heaviness like lead, filled with acid, and fragmented pain. He couldn't even move a single finger.

  The method he used to kill the Behemoth had long since exceeded the limits of his body, and simultaneously, the limits of his magic. Although Sandro had explained the special abilities of this blade to him, and this method was theoretically feasible, it depended on the target. No matter how strange or ingenious the blade's abilities, no matter how abundant the magical power he desperately poured into it, it was still a Behemoth giant, the most vital creature on the continent. If the Paralysis Spell hadn't first disrupted the Behemoth's life force, and the puppet corpse hadn't inflicted some injury, he wouldn't have been able to draw the blade out; worse, the Behemoth might have drained all his life force through the blade instead.

  And finally, using the Behemoth's immense life force to attack was even further beyond his capabilities. It was like a person trying to wield a weapon ten times heavier than his own body weight to strike down others. Although he had relied on the deep magical foundation bestowed by the Sunwell and the Leaves of the World Tree, coupled with his indomitable will, to finally unleash that earth-shattering strike, his body and magic were nearly shattered from exceeding their limits. An ordinary person would have died long ago.

  His last meal had been before setting out in the morning. Gray marsupial meat was incredibly tough and hard to digest; there were even rumors that half the mages who entered the Sanderfirth Mountains died from eating this food. Ethan had eaten quite a bit before departing, but now he felt his stomach was completely empty, and he was terribly thirsty. It seemed he had been in this cave for over a day at least.

  He tried several more times to get up. In vain, his body refused to obey. Even the slightest twitch of a muscle brought heart-wrenching pain. He tried to cast a minor healing spell on himself, but the magical structure within his body was like glass struck by a hammer. Even if not completely shattered, it was absolutely impossible to make it flow again. And after several painful failures, his consciousness, which had just cleared, began to slowly blur again.

  Ethan sighed and began deep meditation.

  Ever since he gradually learned more and more about the stories behind this meditation technique from Sandro and Sedros, he had inexplicably developed a kind of indescribable aversion to it. Not disgust, but fear. He always felt this thing would lead him to a place he absolutely did not want to go, so he used it as little as possible, practiced it as little as possible, especially the deepest form of selfless meditation. But in this situation, meditation was perhaps the only way a miracle could happen, the only path to discover a sliver of hope.

  As the meditation deepened, his consciousness gradually became both fainter and clearer. He saw the wounds within his body caused by exceeding his limits. Countless torn muscles and blood vessels, tiny cracks in his bones, his magic shattered like a spiderweb—his entire body was almost riddled with wounds. Under the effect of meditation, those injuries began to heal at an extremely slow pace.

  But this meditation felt somewhat different from before. It felt as if something was lightly stroking his skin, passing through his body. Shifting his attention outward, he felt the ubiquitous magical fluctuations around him.

  This should be deep within the Sanderfirth Mountains. The chaotic magical fluctuations unique to the range could be felt more clearly here. Far stronger and purer than in the valley, the fluctuations brushed past his body like a gentle breeze, then passed through unimpeded, like light through glass. The fluctuations were very subtle; someone not particularly sensitive might not even notice them. But they were everywhere, ceaseless and unending, as if an inherent attribute of this space. The fluctuations were also chaotic, possessing no specific attribute, no discernible meaning. Yet, upon careful contemplation, one could sense a special aura and rule within them. But this aura was elusive, impossible to grasp, describe, or even truly examine closely. Only when not paying attention could one perceive its omnipresence; the moment one tried to focus, to comprehend its meaning with the heart, the feeling would immediately vanish.

  Ethan had faced many powerful individuals and top-tier mages in the world. They all exuded their own imposing magical auras: the inky black aura of dark magic, the deathly chill of necromantic energy, the warm, brilliant radiance of white magic like sunlight, the plain yet sharp sword qi, and the invincible force and battle aura capable of destroying all. But compared to this chaotic, weak magical fluctuation, all these powerful auras gave only one feeling: insignificance.

  Facing those powerful forces, one might feel pressure, fear, fighting spirit, or reverence. But facing this strange fluctuation only made one feel one's own insignificance. This was the insignificance a person felt before heaven and earth.

  Feeling his own insignificance, only calm remained. Like the calm of a single fish in a boundless, empty ocean. Sensing this strange magical fluctuation in deep meditation, Ethan unknowingly lost himself in it and actually fell asleep.

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  If Sandro or any other Necromancer knew that someone could actually fall asleep while cultivating what they considered the supreme sacred text, they would probably be furious enough to spit blood. But Ethan not only fell asleep, he slept deeply, and he had a dream.

  In the dream, he seemed to have ascended the endless peaks of the Sanderfirth Mountains, overlooking everything between heaven and earth. The ground had no color; it was neither black, nor white, nor transparent. One could see it was the earth, yet could not discern its color. Then, the radiant sun cast its brilliance. The light fell upon the ground, turning it into vibrant, life-filled green. Countless patches of green slowly began to surge and gather. Gradually, this life-filled green became more active, forming wave after wave of a sea of life. The entire earth became a green ocean, pulsating and dancing with vitality and energy. This pulsation grew more and more intense, finally becoming a boil. The green also deepened, from the initial light green to emerald, then from emerald to dark green, and finally ink-black. Some places where the pulsation was most violent actually turned black.

  Finally, all the color on the ground slowly turned to black. The pulsating ocean of life became a boiling cauldron of filth.

  Countless pulsating patches of black gathered together, forming the shape of a sword. Then this weapon, blacker than darkness itself, as if condensed from a black hole that devoured all, leaped up and plunged into the earth, emitting an indescribable sound. This sound had no precise definition; it encompassed screams, collapses, decay, tearing, burning... It was the sound of death.

  Then the earth fell silent. All the black had dissipated. The sky was still the sky, the earth still the earth. This mountain was still this mountain.

  A long time later, the same scenario repeated itself. Again, the sun's green radiance made the earth pulse, then everything turned black again, then returned to calm... This scene repeated over and over, like the rising and setting of the sun. Ethan thus repeatedly overlooked it all from the mountain peak. A strange sorrow filled his heart.

  He didn't know how many times he watched it. The scenery slowly blurred into a single mass. Time and space became indistinct in the dream. He only saw brilliance, green, darkness, life, death intertwined and spinning. Then this swirling scene dissolved into his own body. Ethan felt dazed, as if what he had just seen wasn't scenery, but his own body, his own life. All the scenes continued to rotate and alternate within him, seemingly without end...

  He didn't know how much time had passed. Ethan was awakened by a faint sound of footsteps. He subconsciously sat up, only to be surprised to find his body had recovered significantly. Although still very weak, the physical wounds had healed, and the flow of magic was completely smooth. Logically speaking, even with white magic healing, recovering to this state would have taken a long time.

  The footsteps were the sound of thick pads landing on rock, and they were urgent, accompanied by panting. Could it be a very small juvenile Behemoth? Before Ethan could think, he saw a faint glimmer of light. It was fire. Beside it were two pairs of emerald eyes—werewolf eyes.

  "Thank... goodness... you're... still... alive." Arkin's excited voice rang out. Probably because he was too excited, his stutter worsened. Holding a small torch, he ran over from a distance.

  Ethan's excitement and joy were no less than Arkin's. A werewolf appearing here—did it mean they had already left the Sanderfirth Mountains? He tried to speak, but found he was too weak to control his mouth and tongue freely. The act of sitting up had already reflexively used all his strength. Although his physical injuries had recovered, all the energy in his body was completely depleted. He was now like an empty sack, unable to even support himself.

  In the torchlight, Ethan vaguely saw the full view of the cave. It was actually a huge cavern, over a hundred meters wide and dozens of meters high. The place where he lay was just a crevice in the farthest corner. Nearby was a huge pile of bones, like a small mountain. This was indeed a Behemoth's lair.

  Arkin came over, helped Ethan up from the ground, and carried him on his back. Just then, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed from outside, and three more werewolves ran in. They went to where Ethan had been lying, picked up five pouches. Only then did Ethan notice they were the raw ore they had painstakingly collected before. Beside them were also several Behemoth claws. Judging by their enormous size, they must have belonged to the two he had killed at the valley entrance.

  Arkin ran towards the cave entrance. Ethan buried his face in the fur on Arkin's back and closed his eyes tightly. Even so, the moment they stepped out of the cave, the sunlight still stung Ethan's eyes, bringing tears.

  Then he heard the heavy footsteps of the other werewolves running back and forth, carrying things, and the panting of Kodo Beasts. Arkin seemed to place him on a Kodo Beast. Once the werewolves had loaded everything, came violent jolting and the heavy footsteps of two Kodo Beasts. The two beasts began to run with all their might.

  A cool, sweet taste flowed into his mouth. It was diluted honey. The incredibly delicious sensation made his taste buds and the muscles along his jaws twitch. Based on his past experience, this was the result of at least four days without food or water.

  The cries of giant eagles sounded in the air. Ethan's heart filled with doubt and alarm. It seemed they were still within the Sanderfirth Mountains. But who were these other werewolves? Why hadn't the raw ore been sent out yet? The key point was that Kodo Beasts, these huge, clumsy beasts, were living bait attracting giant eagles and Behemoths. They should absolutely not be brought into the mountains.

  The honey water's effect on his weakened strength was immediate. His eyes gradually adapted to the light. Ethan slowly opened them. He could just see three giant eagles diving down with great gusts of wind. The majestic, imposing form of the Sanderfirth Mountains still surrounded them, connecting earth and sky. They were still in the valley.

  On each of the two Kodo Beasts, two werewolves worked together to raise a giant crossbow. This device, requiring two werewolves to barely operate, was originally defensive equipment used on city walls. It was less a crossbow and more a ballista. Both its range and power were sufficient to deal with such giant raptors.

  The werewolves aimed at the diving path of two eagles and pulled the triggers. Giant bolts, capable of piercing steel shields, whistled as they shot out.

  One giant eagle was pierced directly through the chest and abdomen by the bolt, falling straight from mid-air. The other, relying on superb agility and reflexes, narrowly dodged. It let out a mournful cry, leaving a large tuft of feathers and a spray of blood, then turned and plunged back into the clouds.

  Discarding the ballista, Arkin and the other three werewolves together picked up flails and meteor hammers, guarding against the last giant eagle. But this last eagle, seeing one companion dead and another injured, seemed to hesitate for a moment. It made a low turn, gained altitude again, and followed its injured companion away.

  "We need to hurry. In an hour at most, they'll bring a flock of giant eagles, maybe even Thunderbirds." Ethan said laboriously to Arkin. "How are the others? What exactly happened? Why hasn't the raw ore been taken away after so many days?"

  "Don't... worry. No... problem. The others... are waiting... outside..." The werewolf lashed the whip viciously across the Kodo Beast's head, leaving a bloody mark. The Kodo Beast bellowed and ran faster. They were still at the valley entrance where the Behemoths were slain. Ahead, the huge trail of darkened blood and the trench were still there, though the Behemoths' corpses were now mostly just giant skeletons.

  Undoubtedly, the werewolves had chosen their moment to enter the valley. It was noon, and the Kodo Beasts smoothly ran out of the valley. But Ethan's heart wasn't at ease. Although it seemed this area hadn't yet become another Behemoth's territory, the sound and scent of the Kodo Beasts were enough to attract Behemoths from other areas. With the two giant Behemoths gone, others would pursue this prey without hesitation.

  The werewolves whipped the Kodo Beasts relentlessly. If they had been ordinary cattle or horses, they would have fallen apart under the werewolves' strength. The Kodo Beasts bellowed, their four thick legs thrashing wildly. Their tough hides split open repeatedly, and foam spewed from their gaping mouths. But even so, the speed of these clumsy herbivores couldn't reach half that of a Behemoth. And running like this, the Kodo Beasts couldn't last long.

  Sure enough, after running at full speed for less than twenty li, the two Kodo Beasts were nearly spent. But then Ethan saw two more Kodo Beasts waiting calmly ahead. The lizardman, Vest, was mounted on one, waving to signal them.

  Reaching the two relay Kodo Beasts, the werewolves quickly transferred Ethan and all the cargo. Arkin, meanwhile, lay on the ground and listened carefully, then swiftly jumped onto a Kodo Beast and raised the whip. Looking at the two Kodo Beasts on the ground, foaming at the mouth, Ethan asked: "What about those two?"

  "Leave... them. Three... Bimo... are... coming... for... them... to eat..." Arkin's voice was unclear amidst the jostling run. Ethan understood. These two Kodo Beasts were originally meant as food for the Behemoths. Oufu only had thirty or forty of these large beasts, raised by Half-Orcs. Sacrificing two just to slow the Behemoths down was a significant loss. And judging by how the werewolves were whipping the current two, these were also destined to be a grand meal for Behemoths and Thunderbirds.

  "Still... alive. Good." Vest looked at Ethan, nodded expressionlessly. Lizardman language, though slightly more expressive than their faces, was only so by comparison. This single "Good" was exceedingly rare.

  "Fortunately." Ethan smiled wryly and nodded. If he survived this leg of the journey unharmed, they should have left the most dangerous area. It was unlikely the Behemoths would pursue them this far out.

  Arkin made a grimace at him and said: "Sorry. Left... you... there. That... was... Luken's... idea. Because... we... couldn't... carry... you."

  "Couldn't carry? What did you carry? You even left the raw ore there."

  "Two... newly... born... Behemoths." Arkin said with a ferocious expression.