St Chaos Healer

Ch 95 - The Summit

The wagon trudged forward, climbing the steep mountain pass as I guided the pair of Woolmane Sixhoofs dragging the wagon through the snow-laden path. The wind had picked up speed, howling between the cliffs like a phantom's wail. Snowflakes danced in the air, their delicate descent betraying the harshness of the journey ahead.

By now, the dense forests had vanished entirely, leaving behind nothing but towering cliffs, crisscrossing roads, and endless sheets of white.

I stole occasional glances downward—back to where Luc and the adventurers had confronted each other.

The swirling ice made it almost impossible to see, but occasional bursts of light flickered through the storm—mana attacks clashing against the darkening sky.

The sound of battle never reached me. Only the creak of the wagon wheels and the relentless whistle of the wind filled my ears.

As time goes by, the various sparks of light seem to have diminished, almost as if they have extinguished completely. While they may have been visible against the snow, they are now nowhere to be seen. Luc and the skirmish have faded from view, swallowed by the relentless storm below.

Even though he was proclaimed to be the Merchant of Death, could he really take on that many seasoned adventurers alone?

Luc's line of work was one drenched in blood—where grudges festered and vengeance never truly died. There was no shortage of people who would want him dead.

I could only hope he'd make it through.

Otherwise... I had no idea how I'd even get into Heirya Kingdom by myself.

Pushing the thought aside, I focused on guiding the bulls.

The mountain paths were treacherous, riddled with loose stones and patches of crumbling rock. One misstep and the entire wagon could plummet into the abyss below.

At one point, I had to stop entirely because a large boulder blocked the path. I had to climb down and push smaller rocks out of the way to clear the route. Then, we used the bulls to move the larger rock aside before continuing our journey upwards.

As we climbed higher among the peaks, the temperature dropped even more. The bulls snorted impatiently, their thick coats dusted with frost as they stomped on the frozen ground. Despite the struggle, they never faltered. Their powerful legs carried the wagon higher and higher until, at long last, we broke through the clouds.

A vast ocean of white stretched beneath me, rolling like endless waves frozen in time.

The sunlight painted the sky in hues of gold and silver, casting an ethereal glow over the snowy peaks.

The harsh winds finally softened, replaced by a tranquil stillness. And there—at the very summit—stood the entrance of the Heirya Kingdom.

After what felt like a herculean effort, we finally reached the summit.

As I crested the final incline, a breathtaking sight unfolded before me—a vast blanket of forests, stretching endlessly into the horizon.

The air was crisp and pure, untouched by the pollution of bustling cities. From this height, I could see the expanse of Heirya's territory, a land shaped by the resilience of its people.

Unlike the dense woodlands below, the forests here were different. The trees stood tall, their roots gripping the rocky terrain, bred to survive in thin, oxygen-deprived air. Unlike the fertile lowlands, grass was scarce—the ground was mostly solid stone, shaped by time and the unyielding climate of the mountains.