Magister Insanity

Seconds later, we resumed our journey, climbing higher along the mountain pass. Traveling under the cover of night was undoubtedly risky, but the alternative wasn't any better. My suggestion wasn't perfect, either.

No matter what choice we made, danger was unavoidable.

In short, we were stuck between two terrible options, though this one slightly improved our chances of survival.

The group's condition had improved, albeit only marginally. Fortunately, we'd managed to scavenge some food and water, not enough to fully satisfy our hunger or quench our thirst, but better than nothing.

"Stop!"

Grant, who was leading the group, suddenly froze and signaled for everyone to halt. Confused, Minho asked:

"What's wrong? Why are we stopping?"

"Look ahead."

"What's ahead? W-What..."

Minho's voice trailed off as he stared at something in the darkness. We all angled our phone torches forward, trying to illuminate the path.

"The road…"

"Damnit. It's blocked!"

Our plan had been simple: follow the road up the mountain pass and put distance between ourselves and the scene of the massacre. But now, the path was completely blocked.

Massive boulders blocked the way ahead. The rockfall looked recent enough to have altered the landscape, though the shadows made it impossible to tell exactly when. Beyond the blockade, the mountain twisted upward like a dark spine, disappearing into the night.

"What should we do now?" Margaret's voice sounded muffed.

The group's eyes scanned the broken road, then the steep slope below, and finally the sheer cliff wall above, shattered where the boulders had crashed down. After a tense pause, Minho rubbed his temple and spoke at last:

"Let's see… this is tough. I guess we have no choice but to climb."

Everyone froze, staring at him as if he had suggested something insane. Which, in truth, he had.

"What are you saying? You want us to climb that? No way! Can't we find another way up? Maybe we can try going around."

Margaret pressed him desperately, but Choi Minho shook his head. He rubbed his chin and explained:

"No, that won't work. Look at the slope of the mountain. From what I can tell, this is likely the only path that actually leads to the pass. The road is completely blocked here, and the lower slope drops too sharply to navigate safely. If we climb upward along the cliff, there's a chance we might find a section of the road that hasn't been destroyed or at least some route that reconnects with the pass."

My eyes widened.

That was probably the smartest thing I'd heard him say in the past three days.

Was it hunger clouding his judgment all this time?

"Even if that's true, what are we supposed to do? I've never climbed anything like this. What if I fall?"

Minho retorted back.

"There's a first time for everything. Or would you rather become food for that abomination? Because trust me, I can, very much, make that happen!"

Margaret flinched.

It wasn't hard to see why. Who could stay calm when faced with a man, frustrated from three days of hunger and thirst, surviving on scraps of berries and nuts, shouting at you like that?

Looking up, she seemed to sink into silent despair. Could it be… did she have a fear of heights?

'Jerk.'

After a bit of preparation, they began the ascent. The first steps were tentative. Climbing in our already weakened state was nothing short of risky — bordering on suicidal. The added weight of backpacks only made it worse. Thankfully, mine was light, filled with only minimal supplies; otherwise, I wouldn't have had the strength to make it up at all.

Oh, did I mention I was very weak right now?

Grant led the way, testing each foothold before moving, while Choi Minho barked instructions, forcing the rest of us to follow carefully. Margaret clung to the rock, breathing shallowly, nervously darting at the sheer drop beneath her. Whereupon, Ezra moved up the cliff with surprising ease, showing little strain.

Strong legs really made a difference. The white-haired boy probably played sports. Not as much as Grant, perhaps, but his physique was still impressive, definitely better than mine.

The wind whipped across the mountain, carrying the faint familiar scent of iron from the crimson sea below. Every gust made the rocks shiver under our hands, sending tiny stones skittering down the slope with sharp clinks that made my heart leap.

I could feel my muscles straining. It felt like my calves were burning. Behind me, Choi Minho cursed under his breath as he stabilized Margaret, who was trembling violently with fear.

"Keep your weight close to the rock and don't look down! One misstep and you're going straight to hell!"

'You bastard, that's not helping at all!'

Clenching my teeth, I forced myself upward. Every step was agonizing, made worse by the constant need to watch exactly where I placed my feet.

In a situation like this, saying something like, "Don't look down! One misstep and you're going straight to hell!" was absolutely cruel. And you would have to be a real jerk to say that too.

More than that, it wasn't fair. As a player, I didn't have to climb mountains anywhere in Shatterverse.

All you had to do was move the mouse and tap a few keys on the keyboard. Most importantly, there was a spawn feature that revived the player's avatar, something completely absent here. Yes, it couldn't be combined with this.

Even with a bold personality, it was impossible not to feel fear when scaling a cliff with no safety measures or anything to prevent a deadly fall.

Death by falling had to be one of the worst ways to go, probably ranked in the top twenty on Thousand Ways to Die.

Hot breath escaped from my mouth.

Would it hurt if I fell?

If I died here, would it be real? Or would I wake up from this nightmare?

Damn it.

I had no intention of finding out. It would be far too painful.

'A magic sword would be really helpful right now. In fact, screw them magic swords. Give me power!'

Failing to calm my chaotic mind, I tried forcing myself to think positive thoughts like the time I finally learned to ride a bicycle. But the negative always found a way in, twisting everything. Most vividly, the image of myself tumbling to my demise kept replaying, relentlessly and cruel.

Hours later — perhaps even more, after several excruciating hours of climbing the steep mountain slope — my body was nearing its limit. Shockingly, to everyone's surprise, Grant seemed to be struggling far more than I was.

The broad-shouldered man remained ahead, leading the group, but his posture was slumping, and his movements had grown rough. His breath came ragged and shallow, as if some invisible weight pressed down on his lungs. He certainly did not look well.

By some stroke of luck, we managed to find a suitable place for a camp. Grant slowly settled down without looking at any of us. Perhaps it was because of what happened earlier, he couldn't meet the eyes of the survivors. Several moments passed in silence before he finally addressed the group.

"We'll rest here. Try to get as much sleep as you can." Glancing upwards, he continued. "We'll need to be moving again before the night falls."

By now, the darkened sky had lightened a few hours earlier, taking on a pale, greyish-white hue.

"We should be saying that. You don't look too well." Choi Minho commented, showing his concern.

"Don't worry about me. I just have a little fever, that's all."

The spot we found was a natural alcove in the mountain wall, perched precariously on a narrow ledge. Our fire, made from the small pieces of wood we had carried, was well-hidden behind the rocks, giving us a brief reprieve without the risk of being spotted by any wandering flying demons. No one was in the mood to talk, so we quietly ate whatever we had, passing the time in silence.

Most likely, the memory of the Bloodhound Knight's horror was still lingering fresh in their minds.

A few moments later, Margaret, Choi Minho, and Ezra had already fallen asleep. Only Grant and I remained awake. The broad-shouldered man glanced my way.

"I'll take the first watch. You should sleep and regain your strength."

I shook my head.

"Thanks, but I'm not feeling sleepy right now. You need the rest more than I do. Let me take the first watch instead."

A bit surprised, Grant looked at me then asked, "Are you saying that because you think something might happen while you sleep?"

'W-What?'

Seeing through my concern, he chuckled and waved his hand dismissively.

"You don't have to worry about that. I'm not desperate enough to fall that far. I have a child of my own, so I know all too well the horrors of being a worried parent. Why would I inflict that kind of pain on someone else? If I did, I wouldn't be able to look my daughter in the eyes."

'I see...'

For some reason, I felt a bit relieved. Of course, that didn't mean all my worries had vanished. My body simply became less tense.

Grant must have noticed my guard was still up because he leaned back against the rocks and said,

"Do you know, I used to work as a farmer before… well, before everything changed."

I tilted my head, curious. Seeing my interest, he continued.

"Farming's not easy work. Working under the sun, beating down on you mercilessly, was far from ideal. You had to care for and feed both the crops and the livestock, keep everything healthy, and make sure weeds and pests didn't ruin the harvest. And the livestock themselves… sometimes they'd cause trouble for no reason at all. Have you ever seen two sheeps fighting? It's one of the most ridiculous and terrifying things you would ever see."

The more he recounted his experiences, the more his forehead twitched in irritation. However…

"But were you happy?" I asked.

Grant smiled faintly.

"Yes... yes, I was. Looking back, those years were probably the best times of my life. After all, I spent those times making wonderful memories on that farm."

Suddenly, his expression darkened as he paused. Come to think of it, he had mentioned something about change and from the look on his face, it wasn't a good kind of change.

Hesitantly, I asked:

"Then… what changed?"

Grant lowered his gaze, his features slowly drifting into one of the saddest faces a man could make.

"I got divorced."