Where the unit stood now was, without question, the very heart of the beasts' habitat. The air itself felt heavier, colder, as if the land warned any outsider to turn back. Towering trees encircled the entire area with their trunks buried beneath thick sheets of snow, branches bending under the weight of winter frost.
The ground was no better where everywhere they looked were the remnants of brutal battles. Corpses of beasts lay scattered across the frozen land, some whole, some torn apart so violently that blood had splattered across rocks and roots, staining the white snow a deep, sinister red.
Broken limbs, half-mangled bodies, and clawed marks carved into the earth painted the scene with an almost nightmarish clarity. Not far from where they stood was a jagged cliff, its edges sharp and uneven with branches jutting out between the rocky gaps. One misstep, one slip on the frozen ground, and any living being would surely plummet to their death with no question and no chance of survival.
The entire place breathed danger, as if the very land watched their every move.
"Woah, I can't believe it… I'm totally healed, but I'm still dizzy…" The man Soren had just treated blinked repeatedly, as if trying to make sense of how he went from pale as death to having color back in his cheeks.
They hadn't transported him back to the medical tent for a simple reason—removing the debris that had crushed his lower body would've caused him to bleed out before they could even reach safety. The journey alone, along with the manpower needed to guard him, would've put everyone at unnecessary risk. And considering he wasn't just any noble but someone with direct ties to the crown prince, Alaric had no choice but to make the most rational call: instead of taking the patient to the healers, he brought the healers to the front lines.
"Please make sure to rest after this, My Lord," Soren said softly, his tone gentle yet firm. "Feeling dizzy is completely normal. You lost a significant amount of blood, so a full week of rest will be necessary."
Alaric stood over them with his arms crossed, watching the two intently—Soren with his serene composure, and the nobleman trying to sit upright without passing out. The contrast between them almost made Alaric's brow twitch.
"Thank you. I really appreciate it," the man murmured weakly before his eyes fluttered shut again, exhaustion dragging him back into sleep.
Once Soren confirmed the man's breathing had stabilized, he bowed politely to Alaric and slipped out of the tent. The cold air outside greeted him instantly, along with the muted groans and calls for help from the other injured knights scattered around the area. Without wasting time, he walked toward the next group, but the moment he reached for his satchel, a long, heavy yawn escaped him.
Only then did he realize how drained he actually was. He hadn't slept properly the night before, not with the constant stream of wounded brought in one after another. His body pushed forward out of habit, but now the fatigue was catching up, creeping into his muscles until even lifting his hand felt strange.
'My hand… is it losing strength? Or am I just imagining it?' Soren flexed his fingers slowly, opening and closing his palm as if testing whether the sensation was real or just his mind playing tricks on him.
Before he could decide, footsteps approached him from the side, clearly coming straight toward him.
"Uhm, excuse me… but could you come with me for a moment? You're the healer, right?"
"Uh—yes, that's right. Is there a problem?" Soren asked, adjusting his satchel.
The knight who approached him was a woman with such a broad, heavily built frame that someone might have mistaken her for a man if she had short hair. But despite her impressive physique, her expression was the complete opposite. She's shy, almost timid and her face were set in an awkward smile that didn't quite match her warrior's appearance.
"Oh, no! No, it's nothing serious like that," she quickly waved her hand, flustered. "It's just… my comrade has a small wound. He's, uh… he's kind of embarrassed to call you over himself, but from what I saw, it actually looks pretty painful so…" She scratched the back of her neck, and her other hand kept tapping the hilt of her sword out of habit, like she wasn't sure where to put her nervous energy.
Even without hearing the full explanation, Soren offered her a gentle smile. "Alright. Please lead the way."
Relief washed over her face immediately. She nodded, then turned to guide him.
As they made their way toward the cliffside, Soren noticed the direction they were headed. Near the edge, someone was sitting on a chopped tree stump, likely the embarrassed knight she spoke of. Snow dusted the ground around him, and the cold wind carried faint traces of blood from previous battles.
Just as Soren and the woman knight disappeared behind a set of trees, Alaric stepped out of the tent. He glanced around, scanning the surroundings with the sharp eye of someone used to keeping track of everything happening under his command. When he spotted the empty space where Soren had been standing a moment ago, he opened his mouth to call him
—but before he could, the twins approached from the right side, followed closely by Cael, cutting off his line of sight and diverting his attention.
"How's he doing, huh? I mean, he was in fantastic condition when we arrived earlier," Cael drawled as he pulled the tent flap up just enough to peek inside. He stared at the injured noble for a moment, just long enough to make the twins lean in and take a look too then let the cover drop with a lazy flick of his hand. He then turned back to Alaric with an eyebrow raised.
"He's stable, but we'll have to send him back to the capital as quickly as possible as per Marquis' orders, as always," Alaric replied.
"Oh, wonderful. As expected," Cael nodded, his tone painfully flat.
"Anyway, brother, where's the commoner?" Sylas asked, glancing around dramatically as if Soren should've been standing in the snow waiting for orders.
"Right, I was just about to praise him," Lyric chimed in with a smirk. "He's shockingly hardworking, you know. The moment we arrived yesterday, he apparently healed all the wounded in the tent. All by himself. No noble healers lifting even a finger. The knights said that rat stayed up so late he ended up sleeping in the healer's area instead of his own tent."
Alaric frowned at that, and Cael didn't bother hiding the fact he was watching the Duke's reaction with thinly veiled amusement.
"Hmph, well it's not like anyone told him to do all that," Sylas snorted. "He's probably just busy kissing asses again."
"Forget it. I'll just check on what he's doing. Call me if you need anything," Cael said, waving his hand dismissively as he turned to leave with his robe almost dragging across the snowy ground.
"Eh? Where are you going, Your Highness? Let me come with you!" Lyric yelped, immediately sprinting after the prince. Sylas and Alaric exchanged a look, then followed as well more out of boredom and the promise of entertainment than concern.
Meanwhile, after tending to the shy woman knight's friend, Soren lingered with them near the cliffside, casually chatting. The cold wind brushed past them as they stood not too far from the edge.
"Wow, I just noticed but everything looks so pretty from up here. Don't you think?" the woman knight said, inhaling deeply as she swept her gaze across the snowy landscape.
Despite the place being essentially a graveyard for knights and littered with the remnants of their battle—this moment of calm, with fewer beasts roaming after the recent purge, allowed them a rare chance to admire the scenery.
"Hmm. You're right. It really is beautiful," Soren murmured, adjusting the strap of his satchel.
"Hey, guys, that's dangerous," her injured friend called out as he stepped away from the edge and waved at them. "You might not notice, but you're standing right at a dead end. Come back here."
Before stepping back, Soren and the woman glanced down over the cliff, far deeper and steeper than either of them expected then looked at each other and shared an awkward smile.
"Right, this is dangerous. Let's go—" That was the exact moment Alaric, Cael, and the twins arrived, all wearing matching frowns.
"W-what the, are you trying to kill yourself?!" Lyric snapped, pointing at Soren as they closed in but before Soren or the woman could even take a full step back, the ground beneath them shifted as snow cracking and soil collapsing. In the next second, the entire edge gave way under their feet that made Cael's eyes widened so he sprinted forward in pure instinct, reaching for Soren's arm—
—but Soren acted faster.
He shoved the woman knight hard toward Cael's reach, sending her safely into Cael's arms. And then there was nothing under Soren's feet.
His body slipped past the crumbling edge.
And Soren—without hesitation,
without a scream,
fell straight off the cliff.