Re: Elf Prince—A Degenerate's Second Chance-Chapter 50. Plateau

50. Plateau

Throughout the night Eryndor grew himself two dark bags under his eyes, he had to keep watching during the night and at times react in a erratic manner to every random sound he heard.

A strong pain shot through his blood stream causing him to curl into a ball and shiver in pain. It’s only lasted a few seconds but it’s impact kept his body immobile for a few minutes. By the time his body recovered from the pain he could breath more easily.

He waited till the sun rise before he moved out to the sight of the previous battle to recover his gear. Just as he had expected the scene had been ransacked by what looked like a pack of white fur mountain wolves, he was relieved that he did not have to fight them in his battered state.

After going over the scene twice managed to recover his climbing rope and some of his undamaged arrows. He felt less confident than he was the day before, this so called quest of his would be the death of him if he was not careful. Eryndor salvaged what he could and started to advance up the mountain path in a slower pace than he would have wanted, his wounds from the day had yet to heal and he did not want to take any chances endangering his life any further.

He continued to climb for hours without encountering any danger but he did not let his guard down. With his poor luck he expected things to go south at any given time, the consciousness of the master in his left eye seemed to go back to sleep leaving him to himself. Eryndor for the fear of not running mad tried the ice fang blade in hand, running a set of movements he would have done with the dagger.

After hours Eryndor managed to incorporate the daggers movement into the basic sword style. The dagger was much lighter than the sword he was accustomed to, it’s reach was less but it’s speed and power seemed to be in oar with his sword or even better. When he was done he would send it back to the endless sea void and recall it, it would take a considerable amount of time and focus but he did it over and over till it would only take a seconds delay. By the time he had gotten the hang of it his next challenge he stood before him.

The towering walls of the mountain stood before him, Eryndor would have loved to go around it if possible. But surely there was no way to go around a mountain, besides his target lay on top of the mountain.

With a dismissive sight he took hold of his grappling hook and threw it against the mountain, he had to repeat this a couple of times before it stuck on the rocks high above his head. Eryndor started to climb how he had been thought by his uncle, at first it was easy but after a while it became hell.

The hours dragged on, each moment stretching into eternity. His body screamed for rest, his hands slipping more frequently on the blood-slick rope. Yet he climbed. Pain unfortunately became a constant companion, numbing his senses as he focused solely on the next step.

Eryndor grunted and hissed in pain as he climbed, his limbs, torso and backbone pulsated with hot pain as he climbed against his body’s will. He persisted but the pain was much stronger, to keep his mind off the pain he started to imagine what the mountain wolf king would look like. Strange images started to pop in his head looking unsettling even to him, he managed a weak smile at his own humour.

He reminded himself that if the mountain wolf king was truly the apex predator in the area, did that mean it was bigger and badder than the other beasts in the mountain. He barely managed to survive until now so what was the assurance he would survive against the beast. He almost stopped to think what he would do if it turned to be an actual awakened beast. What were his chances of beating something like that.

"No don’t think like that, a discouraged person is half defeated." He told himself as he climbed even higher.

After climbing for a couple of hours he finally reached a small plateau, Eryndor collapsed onto solid ground, his chest heaving as he gasped for air. His hands trembled, caked with snow and blood, but he forced himself to rise. His relief was short-lived as he took in the scene before him. 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝙬𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝒎

The plateau was littered with bones—some animal, others unmistakably human. They were bleached white, stripped clean by time or by the sharp teeth of whatever had claimed them. The air was heavy with the scent of decay, a sickly-sweet odor that clung to his throat and made him gag.

Eryndor’s stomach twisted as he stepped forward, his boots crunching over brittle fragments. This was no ordinary feeding ground; it was a monument to something far more sinister. The bones were piled haphazardly, some gnawed clean, others shattered as if by immense force.

"This... this is just wrong," he murmured, his voice barely audible over the howling winds outside. "All these corpses killed by god-knows-what."

The oppressive silence pressed down on him, and for the first time, he felt truly alone. The thought of turning back flitted through his mind, but he dismissed it almost immediately. There was no going back, not now.

"Could this be the lair of the mountain wolf king?" His voice carried an unusual dread that was not his.

Like a taut string snapping all of the fear he had been keeping locked up came rushing out, in they moment Eryndor heard a loud growl coming from the distance.

Eryndor unsheathed the Ice Fang dagger, gripping it tightly as he scanned the area. The blade’s frost seemed to react to the unnatural energy around him, a faint blue mist curling from its edge. He could feel the master in his eye stirring, its presence like a shadow against his thoughts. He gulped down and muttered to himself, "Shit. I fucked up."