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墨書 Inktalez
New Era of Humanity in the Apocalypse
Others might think that the exhaustion they felt was indirectly caused by the events they experienced on the mountain path. Sleeping in this eerie place known as Silent Ridge was simply not an option.
The situation around them had slightly changed; it seemed they had been standing for quite some time before realizing that as long as they avoided stepping into a certain danger zone, they would not encounter too many problems. This area appeared to be a junction of Silent Ridge, but they could not let their guard down. It was essential to arrange for someone to keep watch while they slept, a rule that had always been followed. Freyr intended to take the first watch himself.
After setting the time on his watch, he sat down and began to observe carefully, amplifying all his senses to the Ultimate level. His training had enhanced his sensory abilities beyond what they once were, allowing him to perceive distances up to a kilometer. The range of about thirteen hundred meters was his blurry zone, while nine hundred meters was within his controllable range, and twelve hundred meters was within his reach.
Of course, he still needed to expend some physical energy beforehand. He had already used a significant amount of stamina employing the Feather Dragon Dance to break through the illusion they were trapped in. By the time they emerged from that illusion, Freyr's physical condition had weakened considerably; he was operating at roughly thirty percent of his peak strength. Despite this drastic decline in power, he maintained an invincible demeanor, concealing the true state of his inner self from others.
His former swordsmanship teacher had once imparted to him the essence of killing—specifically, the concept of forging one's heart. When confronting numerous enemies, one’s aura must create a balance with that of the adversaries. This would instill a sense of dread in them regarding his presence. However, if one’s aura shifted from strong to weak, opponents would perceive this decline and might resort to underhanded tactics to eliminate him, even if he seemed at a disadvantage.
Even actions deemed cowardly by oneself could still lead to victory; after all, the victor holds all the power while the defeated have no right to argue their case. No matter how hard one tries afterward, the label of failure will forever be attached. In battle, defeat could lead to two outcomes: one could become a prisoner or die like a warrior on the battlefield. The fallen might be remembered as heroic figures or could end up without even a grave marker after their city fell—merely returning to dust. Such endings were often regarded by warriors as lifelong honors.
To true swordsmen, death signifies failure. If one does not sheath their sword and retreat into obscurity, there is a high chance of dying in combat; this fate leads them toward what is known as the graveyard of defeated glory.
The situation here seemed to improve slightly, yet Freyr remained steadfast in fulfilling his duties as Commander, determined to uphold this responsibility until death.
However, Silent Ridge presented an eerie sight; prolonged observation only intensified their fatigue, creating an illusion of increased exhaustion. It was uncertain whether this suppression of perception had been intentionally designed into Silent Ridge.
Just contemplating such a setting felt unbelievable; perhaps he was simply too tired and needed rest to reset both body and mind. The human body functioned like a rechargeable battery capable of self-cycling.
With just a little time, he could break through this bottleneck. Yet this phase was also one of his most challenging periods—one he needed to overcome—because Ultimate was meant for transcendence. Once upon a time, he too had walked step by step toward this very moment, unwaveringly making progress until he arrived here.
Returning to the matter at hand, this feeling of exhaustion was unlike anything he had experienced before. It was not merely mental fatigue; it was a deep-seated physical weariness. His senses might still be functioning, but he quickly realized that his sense of touch was gradually fading, followed by his ability to perceive his surroundings. At this rate, it wouldn't be long before he could no longer even call out.
This state was not mental fatigue; the exhaustion of the mind and the weakening of the body could manifest as two distinct symptoms. Mental training methods could be practiced even during sleep, which is why Freyr spent his sleeping hours engaged in such exercises.
He was not only talented but also exceptionally diligent. Few could compare to such an existence. As time passed, others might strive hard to catch up with him, but his progress steadily widened the gap between him and them.
In the current team atmosphere, few could match his ability to expand their senses. It was at this moment that he opened his eyes and keenly identified the source of the problem: a dense fog in front of him. However, it was no longer just fog; it had transformed into a massive bush, thick enough that it would take twenty people with arms outstretched to encircle it.
"This tree didn't exist just moments ago. It has the ability to block my sensory expansion," he thought angrily. "Damn it, the mastermind behind this strange musk seems to have a hint of anesthetic as well. This plant is carnivorous, similar to the Plant Army encountered during our mission in the mushroom forest." As Freyr contemplated this, he turned to look for his companions for help, only to find that they were already fast asleep and oblivious to their surroundings. He attempted to speak but found his lips sluggish; usually articulate, he now struggled for words. What was happening? The odorless and tasteless scent—more difficult to detect than that of an ordinary person—was a warning sign of danger from that tree.
"Is it hungry?" he thought immediately, considering that it might see them as food. It seemed that no creatures ventured near that swampy area either; over time, he wondered how it sustained itself. Perhaps some nutrients from the swamp had allowed it to survive until now.
If that were true, they would be in serious trouble.
Just as he pondered this, the branches of the peculiar tree suddenly swayed, and the Black Vines that had been entangled in the mire began to rise from the ground one by one.
If this strange tree hunted in such a manner regularly, its range would be even greater—almost a two-hundred-meter radius would become its danger zone. The vines could sense vibrations in the ground and distinguish between large creatures and smaller ones. In its worldview, as long as its core remained alive, the desire to feed would always take precedence above all else.
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