frightfiction Chapter 259: THE FINAL PASS
Chapter 259: THE FINAL PASS
Dawn at the foot of the mountain range descended with a thin mist and a bone-chilling cold.
Rianor was awake long before the first hint of sunlight grazed the craggy hilltops. Around him, the camp hummed with efficient rhythm. Dom silently checked the saddle tension; Naya rolled up the tents with swift, practiced movements; while Orva fed the remaining grain from Driftwood to the horses, their nostrils puffing white clouds of steam into the freezing air. Perched atop a flat stone, Adul hunched over his communication box, his brow furrowed in anxiety under the dim, flickering light of the crystal panel.
"The signal to command headquarters is almost dead, sir," Adul reported, his voice trembling slightly from the cold. "This might be the last time I can transmit a test pulse before we are completely cut off from Iron Hearth."
"Send our final coordinates," Rianor instructed, tightening his belt. "Then shut it down. Save your energy for the journey."
Roland crawled out of his tent, buttoning his heavy coat up to his chin. His hair, usually combed with meticulous precision, now stood in a chaotic mess—an inevitable side effect of weeks spent sleeping on straw mattresses and hard-packed earth.
"Ugh... I truly miss a real bed," Roland muttered, rubbing his palms together for warmth.
"You’ll get one soon enough. Luminara has inns," Rianor replied flatly.
"Inns that likely won’t be keen on hosting a party of ’foreigners bearing demonic technology’."
"You’re the diplomat, Roland. That’s your job."
Roland let out a soft huff. "Right, thanks a lot for that remarkably warm moral support, brother."
At the edge of the trail, which had begun to climb sharply, Dom stood statue-still. His eagle-sharp eyes scanned the peaks still cloaked in thick fog. "We must move now. Wyverns usually hunt at this hour—they leverage the cold air currents to glide higher. The higher the sun climbs, the lower they dive for prey."
"How long will we be trapped in this narrow pass?" Rianor asked.
"Three hours. Maybe four, depending on how well the carriage axles hold up against the rocks."
Rianor gazed at the path ahead—a treacherous stretch of razor-sharp stones, a trail barely wide enough for a single carriage, flanked by sheer cliffs on the left and a bottomless abyss on the right. "Then we cannot afford to waste a single minute."
The first two hours passed without incident.
However, the mountain pass was unnervingly silent. It wasn’t the tranquil silence of a pine forest, but a pressure that weighed on the eardrums. No birdsong. No wind. Only the creaking of wooden wheels against sharp gravel, the ragged breath of exhausted horses, and the thin air forcing their lungs to work twice as hard.
Roland peered out the window, staring into the abyss on the right, which was swallowed by a sea of white fog. "The view is beautiful," he murmured, "but terrifying at the same time. Like watching someone smile warmly at you, while knowing from their eyes that they’re hiding a poisoned dagger behind their back."
"A very... specific analogy," Rianor remarked, eyes fixed on his notebook.
"Well, I’ve spent far too much time debating with the viper-tongued nobles of Sol-Regis."
Suddenly, ahead, Dom raised his left hand into a clenched fist. A signal for an absolute halt.
Everyone froze. Orva pulled the reins until the horses stood rigid.
"Too quiet," Dom whispered, his hand drifting toward his sidearm.
Rianor snapped his book shut with a soft thud. He had heard that tone from Dom enough times to know that death was stalking them. "Direction?"
"Above. Two o’clock."
Rianor looked up through the glass. From behind the ridge of the peak, a colossal shadow glided, cutting across the sky. Bat-like wings of incredible breadth, a long barbed tail, and a scaled silhouette that momentarily blotted out the morning sun.
Then, a second shadow appeared. Followed by a third.
"A flock," Dom hissed, pulling the Gauss Rifle from his back. "At least three."
The first wyvern lunged frontally from behind the cliff ahead.
It was smaller than an ancient dragon—perhaps eight meters from snout to tail—with scales as gray as granite. Its wings stretched wide, the thin membranes translucent against the sun. Its pair of yellow eyes flared with vertical, slitted pupils, locking onto the prey on the ground. The tip of its tail was armed with a giant bone spur capable of crushing bedrock.
This was surely the Alpha. The leader.
Trailing behind, two other wyverns maneuvered from the left and right flanks. They were younger and slightly smaller, but their predatory instinct was just as sharp.
"Naya! Orva! Cover the wings!" Dom roared. His body leaped, seeking cover behind a massive boulder at the cliff’s edge. He raised his Gauss Rifle, squinting behind the scope.
Naya vaulted off her horse, landing in a low crouch beside the carriage. A magitech pistol barked in her right hand, while a dagger was drawn in her left. On the driver’s seat, Orva struggled to calm the panicked horses—their eyes wide and wild, nostrils flaring as they scented the apex predators.
In the back corner of the carriage, Adul huddled, clutching his communication box. He was no fighter. His body shook violently, but his pale fingers gripped a small knife—a futile gesture, but he refused to die without a struggle.
Roland stood tensely beside Rianor. "Eh, what can I do here?!"
"One thing," Rianor replied coldly. "Don’t die."
"I’ll certainly try!"
The first wyvern folded its wings and dived.
The Alpha’s attack came straight from the front. Its speed as it cut through the air sounded terrifying for a creature of its mass. Mere meters before impact, its wings snapped open to brake, and from its gaping jaws, it unleashed a cloud of pale purple gas.
Corrosive venom. The acidic, sulfurous stench instantly stung the nose.
"Hyaa!" Orva hauled on the reins with all his might.
The carriage jolted violently, reversing until its wooden wheels bounced over sharp rocks. The cloud of poison hit the empty space exactly where they had been a second ago. The dried mountain grasses between the stones withered as if doused in acid, turning pitch-black, then crumbling into ash.
"The toxin corrodes organic matter!" Rianor shouted from the cabin. "Don’t let it touch your skin!"
Dom didn’t waste a second. From behind his boulder, he squeezed the trigger.
TUNG!
The magnetic whine of the Gauss Rifle pierced the air. A high-velocity metal slug streaked forward, slamming into the base of the Alpha’s right wing. Thick scales shattered. Black blood sprayed into the air. The giant wyvern shrieked—a piercing sound that echoed off the cliffs—but the beast refused to fall.
"Tch, its maneuvers are too fast!" Dom grunted. "My firing angle is obscured by the wing."
The Alpha spun wildly in the air, trying to stabilize its flight. But the assault wasn’t over; the two younger wyverns were moving in.
The second wyvern dived from the left cliff, targeting Dom. Naya reacted with lightning speed. Pletak! Pletak! Two magitech projectiles barked from her pistol, striking the creature’s underbelly. The beast recoiled, losing balance, and blindly spewed its purple poison. The gas swept over the rock where Dom had been hiding. The granite hissed, cracked, and emitted white smoke.
"The toxin reacts with minerals too!" Naya warned. "Even rock can crumble!"
The third wyvern—the smallest but most agile—dived straight from above. Its target wasn’t Dom or Naya, but the carriage roof. Its bone-spurred tail swung like a giant mace.
KRAK! BRAK!
Wood splintered with a deafening sound. The carriage roof buckled inward.
Adul screamed, shielding his head. Roland swiftly grabbed Adul by the collar, dragging him away from the caving wood. "Are you alright?!"
"I-I... yes! Yes, I’m alive!" Adul gasped.
Amidst the chaos, Rianor didn’t cower. He stood tall, observing the enemy’s movements through his glasses with cold calculation. The micro-display on his Mana Glove flickered, tracking the rotational points and breathing patterns of the three monsters.
Patterns. There was always a systematic pattern.
"Dom!" Rianor’s voice boomed over the wind. "They attack systematically! One dives, two wait above. After they exhale the poison—"
"I see it, sir!" Dom interrupted sharply. "There’s a cooldown. About five seconds?"
"Five seconds for the poison glands to regenerate! And they need three seconds to bank after a dive!"
"More than enough." Dom shifted his position, resting the barrel of his rifle on the still-smoking stone.
The Alpha took the lead once more. Driven by the rage of its wounded wing, the massive beast dived directly toward the carriage. Its jaws gaped open, ready to unleash another cloud of death.
Dom took a deep breath, holding it.
The wyvern exhaled. Purple vapor shot toward the carriage. Orva forced the horses to retreat, but space was limited. The rear of the carriage couldn’t dodge completely. The corrosive gas struck the rear wooden panel. A loud hiss erupted; the sturdy teak wood instantly became porous, blackened, and as fragile as charred coal.
But the poison was spent. The critical five-second window had begun.
Dom rose from behind the rock, standing exposed. His right eye locked precisely onto the spot beneath the Alpha’s jaw.
One squeeze of the trigger.
TUNG!
The magnetic slug streaked unseen, piercing the weakest point in the scale arrangement. A gaping hole opened in the Alpha’s neck. Pitch-black blood spurted like a fountain. The giant wyvern choked violently; the remaining toxin leaked, corroding its own throat. Its wings flapped frantically in panic, losing lift.
The creature finally plummeted.
Its massive body struck the cliff wall above them with a sickening crunch of breaking bones, then tumbled mercilessly into the abyss, vanishing into the sea of white fog.
Seeing their leader slain, the two remaining wyverns shrieked—not a lament, but a panicked wail. Their hierarchy and attack patterns shattered into disorder.
The second wyvern attacked blindly from the side. Naya and Dom didn’t waste the chance; they fired in unison. Magitech rounds and Gauss slugs tore through the creature’s wing base and chest. Reeling from the massive kinetic impact, the wyvern lost its orientation and slammed hard into the cliff face. Rocks and scree buried its body, leaving it wedged in a crevice with a shattered wing. It still breathed, but it would never fly again.
The third wyvern—the smallest—halted its maneuver mid-air. Its wings flapped uncertainly. Its yellow eyes stared at its two fallen companions, then shifted to the armed humans below.
The beast snorted loudly, then banked. Without another sound, it flapped its wings and retreated, flying higher toward the mountain peaks until it became a tiny black dot, vanishing from sight.
Silence reclaimed the valley.
They panted, their shoulders rising and falling in the thin mountain air. But they were all still breathing.
"Alpha target eliminated," Dom reported, his baritone voice flat, as if he’d just shot a quail. "Two dead. One fled."
Naya wiped cold sweat from her brow. "Hah... there were more of them than I anticipated."
"Physically, they are more vulnerable than northern dragons," Dom lowered his smoking rifle. "But their mobility and pack tactics... quite troublesome."
Roland crawled out from the ruins of the carriage roof. His hands trembled slightly—not from fear, but from the lingering adrenaline spike. He peered at the carcass on the cliff, then into the abyss. "You know, I actually managed to throw a rock the size of a fist at the second wyvern. Hit it right on the snout."
"Very impressive," Rianor replied flatly.
"My action helped distract it, right?"
"Extremely insignificant. But at least you did something other than scream."
Roland laughed bitterly. "Right. I’ll take that sarcastic compliment."
They then proceeded to inspect the damage.
The carriage was in a pitiful state. The wooden roof was caved in by the Alpha’s tail strike. The rear wooden panel was charred black by neurotoxic corrosion; at the slightest touch, the wood crumbled into powder like chalk. Fortunately, the chassis, axles, and wooden wheels remained intact. The vehicle could still be pulled.
But the traction was the issue.
Two of the four main horses were gone. Orva pointed toward the dense pine forest below the trail. "Their hoofprints lead there. They broke free and severed the tethers when the first poison cloud descended. I didn’t have enough strength to hold back their panic."
"That leaves only mine and Orva’s mounts," Naya said, gently patting her horse, which was still snorting in panic.
"Un-saddle your mounts," Rianor ordered quickly. "Attach the towing ropes to the carriage. We’ll pull this carriage with the remaining four horses."
"We can walk, sir," Naya offered.
"The descent ahead is still very long. You’ll be exhausted. We can all ride together in the carriage."
Orva and Naya exchanged knowing nods. They immediately stripped the gear from their mounts. While fastening the ropes, Orva noticed a long gash on Naya’s horse’s thigh—a wyvern claw strike, luckily not deep. He quickly applied an emergency herbal salve, then patted the animal’s snout. "You’re a strong horse. We can make it through this."
Rianor approached the rear of the carriage, which still puffed lingering purple smoke. He examined the porous wood. "A neurotoxin with highly aggressive corrosive reactivity. Extremely reactive to organic material. Small doses of vapor won’t kill a human instantly, but... no one should lean against this wall for too long."
"How long can this wreck hold our weight?" Roland asked anxiously.
"Enough to get us down to the Luminara border. Hopefully."
The journey continued at a much slower pace.
Two hours later, the trail began to descend sharply. The geographical transition was palpable; the thin, biting air gradually gave way to a warmer, drier climate. The dense pine forest opened up to reveal broad-leafed trees. Birds began to sing again, breaking the craggy mountain silence. A gentle breeze carried a sweet scent that contrasted with the smell of blood and stone—the fragrance of wild flower nectar.
Then, they passed the final cliff gap.
The expanse of Luminara finally stretched out beneath their feet.
A golden grassland spanned the landscape without a flaw until it touched the horizon. Through it, small streams reflected the afternoon sunlight like veins of silver. Trees grew in overly precise formations—not a wild forest, but a landscape designed and manicured by meticulous hands. The muddy trail they had just traversed now connected smoothly to a pristine, white stone road.
And in the far distance—so far it was nearly swallowed by a light mist—an ivory silhouette of a tower rose arrogantly into the sky.
"So... this is Luminara," Roland murmured in awe, his eyes wide.
Rianor didn’t respond. His eyes narrowed behind his glasses, staring straight south—the epicenter point indicated by his mana compass from the start. Grasslands, streams, ivory towers. Everything looked overly clean.
Too precise. Too perfect.
"This is... truly beyond my expectations," Roland continued. "I don’t know exactly what I’d imagined, but certainly not scenery like this."
"What was in your head? A pitch-black dungeon?"
"At least I imagined high obsidian walls, and rows of grim-faced guards carrying holy swords," Roland exhaled, staring at the beauty below. "This place... literally looks like heaven on earth."
Rianor offered a cold smile. "And that is precisely the illusion they want you to believe."
The carriage began to traverse the final descent. The worn-out wooden wheels finally touched the holy ground of Luminara—grinding over golden grass that danced softly in the wind. A white stone road greeted them, straight and endless, clean without a speck of dust.
"Where are the border guards?" Roland asked, looking left and right.
Dom scanned the rolling hills around them. "Empty. Not a single ambush point. Yet."
"Oh, don’t be naive. They must have seen us coming from miles away," Rianor snapped. "They are merely weighing whether our party is a threat or merely insects passing through."
"Then when will they finish weighing us?"
Rianor stared intently toward the white tower on the horizon. "Soon."