'Brutal force with Spirit of Lightning, What Kind of Being Is That Exactly?'
The woman, her face partially concealed by a veil that left only her piercing gray eyes visible, frowned. She stood up after thoroughly inspecting the corpses left behind by Vio in the tent where he had woken up.
She exited the tent to find a soldier waiting for her.
"How many blows of the horn did you make?" she asked while examining Vio's footprints in the snow.
"J-just one," the soldier replied nervously. "Is there more than one rat?"
Her status was evident not only from the soldier's anxious demeanor but also from the elaborate feathered embellishments on her attire, which signaled her rank far above his.
"No, you did the right thing. Quickly, send word," she instructed, following Vio's tracks to discover more shattered-headed corpses in the neighboring tents.
"immediately," the soldier said, exhaling strangely before muttering an unfamiliar incantation. A faint glow appeared in front of him, revealing a small paper and a quill already dipped in ink.
Just as he was about to write, his body trembled under an immense pressure descending from the sky. The woman raised her head calmly.
It was as if gravity had relinquished its hold. A man in his fifties descended gracefully, his feather-filled cloak billowing, trapping air beneath it like a balloon. The moment the tips of his toes touched the ground, the cloak deflated, releasing the air with a force that sent the surrounding snowdrifts scattering.
"Uncle," the woman said in an even tone, while the soldier, unable to speak, managed only to nod his head.
"What brought you down here, Zaba?" the uncle asked, annoyance evident in his expression at finding her in his domain.
'May God bless the days when you would pant just to speak with me. Time is a cycle of debts and dues,' Zaba thought, though her expression remained unchanged.
"I was getting ready to go down in any case, Uncle," she replied. But the uncle ignored her, turning his attention to the trembling soldier.
"Was the rat one of the aberrations?" the uncle asked.
"Uncle, L-Lady Zaba has already—" the soldier stammered.
"And what is your duty?" the uncle interrupted sharply. "Did you send word?"
"I was just about to," the soldier muttered.
"About to?" the uncle shouted, stepping toward the soldier, who found himself retreating involuntarily, hastily scribbling on the paper.
"The rat was wearing the clothes of one of our soldiers, possibly carrying a badge as well," Zaba added, earning a grateful glance from the soldier for her intervention.
"Amateurs," the uncle muttered as he stormed into the tent. "They always burden me with amateurs." Zaba followed him inside.
The uncle rummaged through the wooden desk drawers, finding nothing in its place, which deepened the scowl on his face.
"Were the Heart-Mountain maps here?" Zaba asked, her voice calm, though the uncle's experienced ears caught a note of sarcasm.
Before turning to face her, the uncle softened his expression and took another glance around the blood-drenched tent.
'Don't answer. Your tension tells me everything.'
The uncle picked up the cloak Vio had used to conceal himself.
"Not one of the aberrations," he muttered, clenching the cloak tightly. "So who are you, rat?"
They exited the tent, and the uncle quickly turned to Zaba.
"You may return," he said, beginning to walk away without waiting for a reply. But he stopped abruptly, sensing something approaching through the fog-covered sky.
Zaba couldn't sense anything herself, but the uncle's expression led her to expect something as well—until a voice echoed from above.
"I sought permission from the elders to join. filthy uncle."
A voice came before the figure, causing the uncle to scowl, while Zaba smiled beautifully beneath her veil, unseen by anyone.
The fog lifted, revealing a flying carpet descending slowly, carrying four individuals whose attire closely matched Zaba's own.
One of them didn't even wait for the carpet to land, leaping off in front of Zaba.
"Husband," Zaba said, rushing toward him and grasping the edge of his robe to kiss it.
"What is this, wife?" the man said, pulling a scarf from his sleeve and quickly draping it over her hair. "Don't let insignificant things see the luster of your black locks."
The two seemed like the embodiment of a couple destined for each other, their silvery-gray eyes further enhancing the impression.
"Hamim," the uncle roared. "Your tongue has grown longer than the mountain."
"Indeed?" Hamim tilted his head, giving the uncle a provocative smile. "Let me see what you do about it"
"Husband, stop," Zaba whispered, tugging on the edge of Hamim's robe.
The uncle stepped directly in front of him.
"Whenever I look into your eyes, I say Cousin," the uncle said, mirroring the same smile. "But the moment you open your mouth, I say Banigzmir."
"What did you say?" Hamim shouted, lunging forward. Only Zaba's intervention stopped him.
"I said what you heard," the uncle's voice resonated, creating ripples in the air, followed by a surge of energy that sent everyone staggering backward. "Do you possess something that would make me feel ashamed?"
The pressure flung the soldier into the air, while Zaba and Hamim clasped hands, bracing themselves against it. Even so, they struggled mightily.
Both clenched their teeth, powerless to act.
"In any case," the uncle said, the pressure dissipating as if it had never existed, "there is prey to pursue."
Zaba tightened her grip on Hamim's hand, silently pleading with him. He swallowed his anger without a word.
"Come out," the uncle commanded. His cloak rippled and contracted, spitting out a wolf as tall as a human.
The beast growled.
The uncle thrust Vio's cloak toward the wolf to sniff.
Sniff, sniff.
Something was wrong. The uncle frowned but didn't rush, waiting for the wolf to finish. Yet no progress was made.
"What's wrong with you?" the uncle asked.
The wolf let out strange sounds before darting around to sniff Vio's tracks again.
Sniff, sniff.
To no avail. The wolf, clearly dissatisfied, darted toward the soldier, who barely managed to gather himself before recoiling to the ground in fear, eyes squeezed shut as the wolf sniffed him.
Sniff, sniff.
The wolf's expression eased slightly as it stood before the uncle, shaking its head.
"He can't pick up the scent," everyone murmured in unison.
"Is he using something specific to mask his scent?" Zaba said.
"In any case, wherever he goes, we are The Mountain Kings," the uncle said, his cloak rippling to absorb the wolf. Then, with a sudden expansion, the cloak swelled like a hump, lifting him into the air and propelling him over the towering rocks.
The others mounted the flying carpet to follow.
At the same time, Vio was in a predicament no one would envy.
"No word has arrived. Seven of you, come with me. The rest stay at the camp," the camp commander ordered, and the soldiers surged in the direction from which Vio had come.
"Everyone, block the exits!" shouted the new leader, who had taken control, plunging the camp into chaos.
'Damn it, where do I go now?'
Vio looked around, finding only one possible escape route—a heavily fogged area near the camp's edge.
With slow and calculated steps, he decided to approach and see what lay ahead.
All the soldiers had drawn their swords, scanning the area around them, expecting the enemy to attack from outside. None of them realized that the enemy was already among them.
When Vio reached the edge, he found it was a slope. The problem was that he couldn't tell what lay below or where it might lead.
'Wherever it goes, it's still a slope,'
After a long look, he decided that taking the winding path down the mountain would be foolish.
As Vio weighed his options...
"word! Everyone, freeze in place!," one of the soldiers shouted.
The soldier's voice struck like lightning, making everyone, including Vio, freeze completely, their eyes locked on one another.
'What's going on?'
In the distance, a bird appeared. It was a white owl, which landed on the arm of the leader and inspected the written message it carried.
While the leader read it, Vio tried to guess its contents.
The corpses he'd been forced to leave behind… He knew it had been a mistake. Stripping one of them of their clothes meant that spies would be suspected among the ranks.
"Let the camp be known!" the leader shouted, prompting all the soldiers to raise one arm into the air.
Vio's focus was razor-sharp. The moment the soldiers began moving, he started imitating them as well.
He hadn't taken any drastic action yet because he understood that the situation was critical. He might still have a chance to escape unnoticed, but if he ran now, he would destroy that chance entirely.
The soldiers' fingers moved in perfect synchronization.
'Is this some kind of signal they're trained to use?'
Thanks to his heightened perception, Vio managed to mimic the movements quickly and accurately. That was, until a shift began to occur.
Suddenly, none of the soldiers were performing the same movements anymore. Each one seemed to follow their own distinct gestures. Vio found himself improvising, doing whatever came to mind.
Their gazes shifted, scrutinizing each other one by one. With every exchanged glance, they appeared to recognize their comrades, repeating the process until only one person was left—the only one whose gestures made no sense to them.
Vio.
'Damn it!'
Without knowing what else to do, Vio raised his middle finger toward them.
Immediately, he turned and leaped off the slope.
"Rat! Attack!"