Before them, the world spread wide open.

The stretch of land below the cliff no longer resembled a forest, nor the fields that once thrived. Now it was nothing but an open wound, a scar of war that had passed yet lingered like a hell.

Scorched earth burned black, riddled with uneven craters. Trees that once stood tall were now nothing but broken charred stumps, planted like black tombstones in the soil of death.

Riven stood rigid, throat dry. The cold night wind pierced his skin, but that wasn’t what made it hard to breathe. Every gust carried the whisper of countless souls that had yet to depart, voices shrieking from beneath the ground.

Beside him, Melly covered her mouth with both hands. “Oh God…” she whispered hoarsely, her eyes widening in terror.

She had anticipated something like this, but seeing it with her own eyes was far worse than anything she had imagined. Her stomach churned, her body trembling violently. Not just from the night’s chill, but from the dread that seeped into her bones.

Riven spotted torchlight below. Instantly he ducked, grabbing Melly’s shoulder and pulling her down into the dirt.

They crawled into cover behind tall grass along the rocky cliff. Riven’s body pressed against the cold, damp earth. Pebbles dug into his stomach, but he forced himself not to move. His hand, gripping a cheap spyglass, trembled slightly—whether from the cold night air or tension, even he wasn’t sure.

“Are you sure about this, brother?” Melly whispered. Her voice was so small it nearly vanished into the rushing wind.

Riven didn’t answer. He only pressed his eye to the foggy lens. His breaths were heavy but measured, restrained, as if he feared even the faintest exhale would draw every eye below.

His gaze swept across the killing field. Corpses sprawled as far as sight could reach—some piled high, some torn so badly they no longer resembled humans. The metallic stench of blood mixed with rotting flesh, carried upward by the night breeze. Riven held his breath, but the stench still forced its way in, stabbing his senses.

The ground was slick and dark, a mire of half-dried blood. Puddles had crusted over into cracked black film. Some bodies still stood half upright, skewered by spears through chest or throat. Their empty eyes stared blankly into the night, mouths frozen in eternal screams. Others were charred black, some cut in half, yet most lay scattered in pieces.

Even for Riven, the sight was sickening. He had grown used to death, but the battlefield always taught the same lesson: cruelty and despair.

To him, war was never noble. There was no honor in it. No glory. Only blood, flesh, and the stench of decay.

Riven swallowed hard.

Melly pressed her hands tighter over her mouth. Her eyes glistened with tears, her shoulders trembling. “Brother… this is insane. We have to go. We have to go home.”

Riven shook his head slowly. “No. This is our chance.”

He shifted the spyglass, his breath fogging the night air. His gaze followed the torchlight moving below.

Amid the sea of corpses, a group of soldiers still lived. They marched slowly, torches in hand, faces expressionless. Riven recognized the emblem painted on their shields: soldiers of Iskandria’s royal army.

They moved in grim formation, merciless. With the tips of their spears, they pierced every corpse once more. Blood, blackened with time, still seeped out in sluggish drops. After ensuring death, they scavenged the bodies for valuables.

Riven’s eyes sharpened.

One large man pulled a sword from the body of a dead officer. Its long blade bore faint engravings near the hilt. Though caked with dried blood, torchlight still caught its gleam. Riven knew it wasn’t ordinary steel. Even without expertise, he could sense its worth.

Another soldier lifted a gleaming axe, prying it from a fallen hand, tossing it into a wagon. Others retrieved intact shields, admiring them briefly before passing them along. One by one, everything of value was stripped away, stacked high into horse-drawn carts.

Riven clenched his teeth behind the grass. His jaw tightened, his face darkening.

“Damn it…” he muttered low. “That should have been mine.”

Melly turned to him, fear and confusion in her eyes. She wanted to speak, but froze when she saw his gaze.

Below, the soldiers carried on. Once three wagons were full, their wheels groaned, pulling away from the ravaged field, leaving the land even barer—stripped of its last fragments of worth. Long shadows swayed with torchlight, marking the end of a blood-soaked day.

Riven waited, holding his breath, weighing every risk. His eyes stayed sharp, scanning for movement.

From afar, the glow of the Iskandrian torches receded, one by one vanishing into the dark. Only when no trace of firelight flickered below did Riven finally exhale.

He swept his gaze across the valley of ruins. Silence. Only the howl of the wind carried the tang of rusted iron and damp soil. He knew this was the moment to descend.

Beside him, Melly clutched his sleeve tight, her face pale. “Brother… don’t go down there. Please, don’t…” Her voice shook, a broken prayer on trembling lips.

Riven looked at her, then sighed. “Mel, we’ve come too far. I can’t go home empty-handed.”

Melly shook her head fiercely, tears welling. “But it’s madness! Look at it, it’s terrifying! What if something is still hiding down there?”

Riven rested his hand on her head, patting gently. A faint smile touched his lips, though his eyes carried no warmth. “That’s why you have to wait here. Don’t move. Don’t go anywhere until I come back. Understand?”

Melly froze, breath uneven. She wanted to argue, but her tongue felt heavy. She lowered her head, clenching her fists tight.

Riven patted her head again, softer this time. “Don’t worry. I’ll only be a moment. Just stay here. Don’t move an inch until I return.”

Melly bit her lip, letting out a shaky breath. “I understand, brother… Don’t worry about me. I’ll wait here. Just… come back quickly. I hate this place.”

A thin smile crossed Riven’s lips, though his eyes remained grave. “That’s a promise.”

He brushed her cheek briefly, then turned back toward the cliffside. His heartbeat thundered in his chest, like an unseen hand pressing down on him.

Slowly, every muscle tense and alert, he began to descend the rocky slope—leaving Melly frozen at the top, watching his back fade deeper into the darkness.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep