Chapter 200: Pastry

Helag, like the Grim Reaper, dispatched the adventurers with ease, leaving them no room for resistance.

In just seven or eight seconds, he single-handedly dealt with the entire group. The one who ran the farthest, about 300 meters from the valley’s entrance, thought he was close to escaping. The screams behind him seemed like a death knell. Suddenly, a sharp pain struck his chest, and before he could react, darkness consumed his consciousness. The immense force shattered his body from within, unable to withstand such power.

After Helag finished, David and Reese jumped down from a nearby slope. “Clean up,” Helag instructed, then released his transformation.

“Change your clothes,” Reese suggested, handing him a set from her space ring, her face slightly flushed.

Helag paused; he had his own clothes ready, but since Reese offered, he accepted with a nod, “Thank you.”

Helag returned to his normal size after dispelling his giant form. Reese stole a quick glance as he changed, thinking, “Still so big…”

For the next two weeks, adventurers continued to trickle in. Wizards from Base 27 were stationed throughout the mountains, eliminating any who entered. Gradually, fewer adventurers ventured into the Lim Mountains, easing Helag and his team’s workload, allowing them to relax in the mountains.

***

In the Norn Kingdom’s border camp at Oberstein, Commander Tyron listened to the messenger’s report, “You’re saying no adventurers have returned from the Lim Mountains?” The messenger swallowed, nodding bitterly, “Yes, Commander. Over the past two weeks, 200 to 300 adventurers, including spellcasters, have gone, but none have returned.” Tyron closed his eyes, leaning back and rubbing his temples. He realized those adventurers were likely never coming back, though the reason remained unknown.

“We sent a hundred troops before, and none were lost. Why haven’t any adventurers returned?” Tyron wondered. The messenger speculated, “Perhaps they wanted to avoid conflict with the kingdom’s army, and the adventurers, lacking backing, met misfortune.” Tyron shook his head, “That doesn’t explain the missing patrol. It doesn’t add up.” “I don’t know,” the messenger admitted, puzzled.

After a moment, Tyron decided, “Cancel the mission.” “It’s already canceled, and no one dares take it now. News of missing adventurers has spread throughout Oberstein; no one will accept it,” the messenger replied. Tyron nodded, “Issue a notice forbidding anyone from approaching the Lim Mountains. I’ll report this to Sea Stone City. Until we understand the situation, it’s a restricted area.”

Sea Stone City, the Norn Kingdom’s capital and power center, was beyond Tyron’s ability to handle. He sensed a major issue and needed to inform the king.

“Understood, I’ll handle it,” the messenger quickly drafted a notice for distribution across Oberstein.

News of the Lim Mountains had already spread, and no one dared approach. Those who ventured in vanished without a trace, deterring others.

Some, believing greater danger meant greater rewards, thought there might be treasures within. Convinced of their exceptionalism, they entered the Lim Mountains, only to disappear like the rest. News reached adventurers in other cities, drawing them in, including powerful spellcasters, the pinnacle of adventurer strength.

They knew such mysteries weren’t for ordinary people, only for formal spellcasters like them. What was deadly for ordinary adventurers was an opportunity for them. Many speculated it was an ancient ruin, with dangers beyond ordinary adventurers’ capabilities.

In Oberstein, at Asna’s home, Lins sat inside, hands covering his face, tears streaming through his fingers, body trembling. Asna left for the Lim Mountains two weeks ago and hadn’t returned. Neither had Sadi; their entire team vanished. Initially, Lins wasn’t concerned; Asna often took missions lasting weeks or months. But news of the Lim Mountains spread—no adventurers returned. Everyone understood what that meant: they likely never would.

Lins never imagined this day would come. Despite finding Asna annoying, he admired his sister’s strength, intelligence, and talent as a powerful spellcaster. Lins trained as a knight, inspired by Asna, wanting to be strong and independent. He never thought his strong sister would disappear in the seemingly ordinary Lim Mountains, likely never to return.

On the table, a note remained: “Eat the pastries soon; they spoil in the heat.” The pastries, Asna’s last gift, had spoiled, but Lins couldn’t bear to throw them away or touch them. Regret and guilt filled Lins’ heart. Only in loss did he realize their value, having never felt their presence when they were there. Looking at his sword, Lins’ eyes filled with newfound determination. He vowed to become stronger.

He didn’t recklessly enter the Lim Mountains. If his powerful sister couldn’t return, he likely wouldn’t either.