Chapter 85: The Grant Wall

The aberrations had indeed left behind quite a few traces of corruption as they roamed—though the chaotic magical aura was rapidly dissipating, thanks to their timely discovery, many subtle clues still lingered.

Following these intermittent tainted scents, Gawain and his companions pressed deeper into the Dark Mountains, gradually approaching a gap in the mountain range to the southwest of their camp. This gap immediately put Gawain on edge.

It was one of the lowest points in the Dark Mountains and the easiest pass to cross. If those monsters had come through here… they would soon sense the human presence at the outpost and could charge down the mountain to launch a direct assault.

The three climbed atop a massive boulder and peered toward the gap. The exposed gray-white rock was barren, like fractured bones stripped of life, the terrain cleaved as if by a giant axe. Below the gap, a disturbing gray-black mist was rising.

Gawain quickly instructed Hetty to cast a spell to conceal all their auras—including magical energy. As a third-level mage, Hetty’s ability was limited; this concealment wouldn’t fool any mid-level or higher professional, but Gawain knew the aberrations’ weakness: once removed from the magical tide, their senses dulled and their intellect was low. Without a clear detection of magic or intelligent life, they wouldn’t react.

With their concealment in place, the trio cautiously advanced. Before they’d gone far, a putrid stench wafted from ahead.

“Ugh…” Hetty gagged softly, clutching her staff tighter. She knew this scent all too well—it had haunted her nightmares, jolting her awake more than once. Months ago, the entire Old Cecile territory had been destroyed by this very corruption.

Aware that the monsters could sense magical fluctuations and that her concealment was limited, Hetty resisted the urge to cast a gentle wind shield and carefully followed behind Gawain, maneuvering around obstructing rocks and ancient trees.

Suddenly, Gawain signaled sharply: “Hide—up ahead.”

The three slipped into the jagged rocks. Amber, mustering her courage, peeked just over Gawain’s shoulder—and immediately broke out in goosebumps.

Below, the mountain path was shrouded in a thin gray-black mist. The plants were withered and twisted; grotesque spikes and tendrils sprouted from the rocks and soil. Clusters of slimy, soft-bodied masses writhed and rolled among the stones, sickening to behold. Along this hellish trail, hordes of flesh giants staggered forward. Their chaotic faces oozed with mud-like flesh, emitting profane, guttural murmurs that resonated ominously in the air.

Even more chilling, many of these giants bore decayed, broken ancient weapons embedded in their bodies. Amber even spotted one with a hollow human skeleton lodged in its abdomen—a nauseating confirmation of Gawain’s grim suspicion:

This was a hellish army, wandering out from the ruins of Gondor.

Amber grabbed Gawain’s arm, whispering in the lowest, most desperate voice she could muster: “Boss, forget the pay—just let me go.”

“Shh,” Gawain pressed her down gently, his eyes scanning the monsters. He checked repeatedly, then exhaled slightly. “Fortunately, it’s not the worst-case scenario.”

“Not the worst?!” Amber stared at him like he’d lost his mind. “This many alone could tear the entire camp apart three times over!”

“Don’t be fooled by appearances. Their numbers aren’t as high as you think,” Gawain patiently explained, knowing how a first encounter with aberration armies could warp one’s perception. “The mist and those parasitic growths on the ground create an illusion of vast numbers. But if you count carefully, there are probably fewer than a thousand…”

Amber blinked, counting the lumbering flesh giants in sight. “Looks like only a few hundred, actually…”

Then she realized: “But our whole camp has only eight hundred people—and seven hundred of them can’t fight!”

“It’s still better than my worst fears,” Gawain said quietly. “I was most worried they’d exceed a certain ‘threshold’ in numbers. If that happened, they’d multiply rapidly, almost sprouting from thin air. We suffered a lot from that back in the day. Reports said two thousand enemies, but by the time we met them, they’d grown to three or even four thousand… But look at these—no new aberrations are sprouting from the air. That means their numbers are just below that threshold, or maybe slightly above, but not enough to trigger natural growth.”

“But even this many is more than our camp can handle,” Hetty said with concern. “Ancestor, they’re moving north along the mountain. Sooner or later, they’ll reach the camp. Once we’re within their sensing range…”

Amber’s pointed ears twitched nervously. “You said these aberrations wander randomly or just stay put if they don’t detect magic or humans, right? Maybe they’ll just stop after a while and stay there for a thousand years or so…”

“Don’t pin your hopes on that,” Gawain frowned. “Though their numbers won’t increase, they’ve surpassed the critical point for natural decay. Expecting nearly a thousand monsters to just stay put in the mountains as our neighbors? Dream on. We have to find a way to deal with them.”

Amber glanced at Gawain silently. “I have a plan…”

Gawain was surprised. “You do?”

“Yeah, here’s the idea: I sneak in and take out one, then you, the legendary knight, charge in like a god descending from the heavens and wipe out the other nine hundred ninety-nine. Meanwhile, your great-granddaughter, the beauty, sets off some arcane fireworks to celebrate. When we get back, we claim we defeated nearly a thousand monsters together. You keep being the lord and farming in peace, and I go to the tavern to brag… Hey, don’t walk away—I’m not done yet!”

Gawain knew by the halfway point of her rambling that Amber was just spiraling into another bout of anxious overanalysis, so he tuned out the rest and instead focused on the terrain. Finally, he spotted a route that would bypass the monsters. He tugged on Hetty’s robe and cautiously began to circle around.

Amber paused, stopped her wild theorizing, and obediently slipped into the shadows to follow.

The three skirted the slow-moving aberrations, finding a narrow path between the rocks. Following the corrupted trail’s direction, they edged closer to the mountain gap in the Dark Mountains and eventually reached a vantage point high enough to overlook the southern side of the range.

Gawain climbed the rocks and gazed out.

On the other side… it was almost comical to think of Smurfs.

There were no cute blue creatures over there—only the ruins of civilization, the remnants of the orderly world, the wasteland of Gondor shrouded in chaos and darkness.

Though the true Gondor wasteland lay farther beyond, the tainted aura already hung over the southern sky of the Dark Mountains. Beyond a certain boundary, the sky appeared as an eternal dusk—dim and chaotic. Thick, filthy clouds hung low, pressing down as if ready to swallow the earth whole. Beneath this unnatural sky, the land twisted and warped as if from another realm.

Starting at the southern foothills of the Dark Mountains, an endless dark forest blanketed the mountains and half the adjacent strip of plains. Even from this distance, Gawain could see the “Black Forest” filled with towering, mutated giant trees swaying slowly, their poisonous tendrils stretching toward the sky. Beyond the forest, the plains were shrouded in mist, within which flickered illusions of past cities, fortresses, and palaces. Beyond those phantasms rose a barrier shimmering like the aurora.

That aurora-like barrier was the only comforting, beautiful sight in view. From here, it looked like a faint ribbon of light, but in truth, it was immense and magnificent. This “glow” connected earth and sky, seeming fragile yet thicker and sturdier than mountains. At its base stood rows of neatly aligned towers.

The light barrier was maintained by the powerful energy emitted from these sentinel towers.

This was the Grant Wall, and the towers beneath it were the Sentinels—an entire system sealing off the Gondor wasteland, preventing the extinction of all life on the continent.

Everyone knew this shield was built by the Elven Silver Empire, but in reality, it was so unimaginably complex that no single intelligent race could have borne the technical and resource burden alone. Even the mighty Silver Empire could only shoulder half the cost and provide all the technology. The rest was shared among all the continent’s powers, including the Dwarven kingdoms and Gondor’s remnants, to complete the barrier.

It was truly an era that stirred the soul.

But also an era shrouded in terror, when no one could sleep peacefully.

Amber’s head bobbed beneath Gawain’s shoulder, her eyes nervously fixed on the tainted land to the south, then filled with awe as she looked toward the distant barrier.

Even with the Grant Wall standing, the magical tide’s corruption still polluted a vast area outside it. But compared to the inside—where even the Dark Forest was a paradise—this was a grim reality.

Gawain shifted his gaze away from the glowing barrier and exhaled softly. “The shield still holds.”

(End of chapter)