Magister Insanity

There was no good way to process what had just happened.

Grant — the strongest among us — had fallen to his death. It happened so quickly that none of us had time to react. The group froze, staring into the depths where his body had vanished.

Their thoughts were plain on their faces.

Would I die the same way if I slipped?

Of course, there was the faintest chance he might have survived. The human body could endure more than most people imagined. But from a drop of over a hundred meters, the odds of survival were less than a fraction of a percent. And even if he lived, he would never walk again.

Perhaps, in the end, a swift death was the kinder fate.

'Damnit!'

Why did I feel so guilty? After all, I wasn't the one that caused his fall. Yet, the pain in my chest lingered.

At that moment, a memory resurfaced.

「 For obtaining forbidden power and becoming a Forsaken, you have escaped from the strings of fate. However, in doing so, you have discarded the natural gift of fortune. Misfortune and Terrors will be drawn to your presence. 」

Could I have been responsible for his demise?

No. Though it was true that I was unlucky, to think I had brought misfortune to the harrowing shores was unreasonable. In truth, it was the other way around. It was precisely because the harrowing shores were cursed to begin with that I had ended up here.

Simply put, his grip was loose and as a result, he fell to his death.

He was just unlucky.

'Now is not the time to be sentimental.'

Swallowing my dry saliva, I faced upwards and climbed following the others. Just like that, Grant was forgotten as easily as he was remarkable.

However, there was another problem upon reaching the halfway mark.

Altitude.

Climbing the mountain was getting increasingly difficult. The higher we went, the more the air thinned, making even breathing painful. And there was the possibility of being swept away by the fierce gales if grip strength was lacking.

The cold worsened too. My clothes consisted of: a false dual-layered shirt which appeared as a black t-shirt with a gray long-sleeve undershirt, and matching jeans. Basically, I had no protection against the cold. People like Ezra and Choi Minho happened to be quite lucky, since one of them was wearing a coat while the other a business suit, respectively. Whereupon, Margaret happened to be worse off — wearing only a casual summer dress with thin straps, utterly useless against the biting wind.

However, the true danger was not fatigue, nor even the cold. It was the path itself. The higher we climbed, the narrower it became. Loose stones threatened to give way beneath our boots, and icy patches hid in shadows, waiting for a single careless step. Every move had to be precise. A moment's lapse, and another body would join Grant in the abyss below.

More terrifying, all of these were simply just one aspect of something greater.

This place was obviously not meant for human life. It was only a matter of time before it claimed another.

But what were we supposed to do? Go back down? We had all been summoned here for a reason, by something unknown and mysterious. Some were unlucky enough to perish before discovering the answer but I was determined to see this nightmare to the very end.

Not from the desire to return home, nor from the urge to uncover the mystery. It was born of something far more sinister, an accumulation that had long taken root in my heart.

I'm going to slit the throat of the one responsible for this.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity1, the cliff began to level out. The upper ridge of the mountain loomed above. My legs quivered uncontrollably, but relief coursed as well.

We had survived the climb.

Now reaching the top was the only thing that remained.

But my mind was filled with doubt.

Did this path even exist? What if there was no way forward? Had we climbed all this way only to find nothing waiting at the end?

Negative thoughts continued to emerge with every step I took. The summit was close, almost within reach, yet the mountain seemed to mock us with its silence. There was nothing to suggest that this path had ever been walked by human feet.

So, at this moment, it was natural to feel despair.

At last, the ridge gave way to a flat expanse of stone coated in frost. I stepped onto it cautiously along with the others, relief mixing with dread. The wind howled louder here, carrying with it a strange unknown resonance.

Glancing around, I examined the surroundings closely.

The plateau stretched wide, barren and white, with jagged rocks jutting from beneath the frost. Nothing but stone and ice were present. In the distance, the ridge curved upward toward a darker shape, unnaturally standing against the sky. At first, I thought it was part of the mountain. But the closer I looked, the clearer it became. A structure. Black, magical, and foreign, as though it had been carved into the earth by hands that did not belong to this world.

From this vantage point, it was hard to make out any clear features. Still, one thing was certain: the distance between us and that place, whether sanctuary or doom, was painfully obvious. And it was far.

Exhausted and drained, Choi Minho collapsed to the ground. His skin had gone ghostly pale, sweating profusely. He panted heavily, gasping like a fish stranded on land. Yet, despite this, a strange gleam lingered in his eyes — something between excitement and madness.

"At last, finally! Hahaha!"

Laugher emerged, his voice sounding triumphant. I started questioning his sanity level.

Ezra gave him a look over and clicked his tongue.

"This old man is finally going crazy. Compose yourself already."

Choi Minho glared at him.

"You heartless brat. Let me rejoice in peace for a few minutes. Aren't you tired as well?"

Ezra scoffed but didn't press further, shifting his attention back to the looming structure ahead. Minho's laughter still echoed faintly in the wind but it sounded more like a broken cry.

Margaret hugged herself tightly then decided to address the elephant in the room.

"Just what is that place?"

No one answered. Truthfully, nobody knew anything.

A handful of possibilities flickered through my mind, though most were nothing more than speculation. Still, one theory held firm the longer I considered it. If that structure was truly what I suspected, then our chances of survival might not be hopeless after all.

Choi Minho remained silent for a moment, then stood up from the floor and dusted himself.

"Let's find somewhere to camp for the night. From the looks of it, we aren't getting there any time soon and the sun is already setting. We'll continue again tomorrow."

With a pause, he added:

"You three should go ahead and find wood we can use to start a fire. If you find anything worthwhile, let the group know."

I raised an eyebrow.

"What will you be doing?"

Choi Minho replied without hesitation.

"I plan to say a short prayer. We've been running nonstop without once taking the time to properly pray to God or to send off the dead. If I could, I'd have love to bury them."

'How thoughtful.'

Since when had he become religious? Even so, his words seemed genuine, and there was something clouded in his eyes. It was an emotion I couldn't quite place.

A few minutes later, the group scattered to gather resources. Ezra collected snow, Margaret searched for wood, and I went off to look for anything useful. With fire, we could melt the snow for drinking water. At least we wouldn't need to worry about growing thirsty, not with this much snow around.

During my search, I noticed my shadow stir, moving unnaturally as if trying to catch my attention.

"What is it this time?"

The shadow shifted, reshaping itself into a sharp arrow pointing toward the edge: the way we had come.

I froze. Hadn't it done something like this before?

'Could it be…'

My heart lurched.

Careful not to draw attention, I slipped away from the others and crept toward the edge. From this height, the vantage point was far steeper than before, making it almost impossible to make out what lay below.

Night-enhanced vision was useful, yes... but it only helped me see in the dark. It didn't grant me anything beyond that.

What was I supposed to be, Superman?

If my shadow alerted me, then there should be something. Thinking this, I squirted my eyes as much as possible. After a bit of time, something entered my vision.

As I mentioned, the vantage point was so high it was nearly impossible to make out anything clearly. Through the veil of darkness, a faint flash stirred within the ashen forest below.

It wasn't the flicker of a torch. No, this was different. A milky-white glow, unfamiliar in its strangeness yet disturbingly familiar all the same.

And then I realized, there were two of them.

A pair of eyes. They were staring directly at me.

It has only been three hours.