CHAPTER 320: BLOOD IN THE MOUNTAINS [ 2 ]

As the convoy navigated the treacherous path through the Ayzion Range, each mile felt heavier than the last.

The air grew thinner, sharp against their lungs, while stones scraped beneath tires, engines straining to haul steel and weary bodies through narrow cliffs.

Shadows stretched ominously across jagged peaks,a stark reminder that daylight in these mountains was fleeting and unreliable.

Behind them lay a grim trail marked by death. Seven ambushes,each one more brutal than its predecessor and still, the mountain whispered of more horrors to come.

Arthur leaned forward in his truck, eyes locked on the winding road ahead. Dried blood smeared his face; crimson stains stiffened his clothes.

The Shadow Lord Regalia hummed softly with each movement, reinforcing torn muscles and repairing broken fibers.but it couldn’t erase the fatigue weighing him down.

His body moved on autopilot while his mind struggled under a heavy fog.

He focused solely on survival: the next second, the next step, and the next shot.

Although 30% his emotions have been stripped, leaving him quite cold and unshaken outwardly; yet fatigue threatened to crack that mask.

Flashes of faces haunted him,the men he had killed, voices silenced forever,he pressed them down deep inside himself, forcing his breath to steady. If he faltered now, everyone would pay.

But there was no pause from the mountain.

The eighth ambush struck in late afternoon the next day.

It began with an eerie silence; even birds chirping in the cliffs fell silent as if sensing danger.

The wind stilled completely before a whistle sliced through the air,a heartbeat later, machine guns erupted from concealed nests above.

Ta-ta-ta-ta-ta!

Ta-ta-ta-ta-ta!

Tracer fire lit up the cliffs like angry fireflies.

"Contact right! Suppression fire!" Gunner roared as he pivoted like a giant beast, unleashing thunder from his rifle while sending rounds crashing into stone to dislodge hidden gunners.

Without hesitation, Arthur leapt from his truck and rolled behind a ridge.

He raised both pistols and fired back,precise bursts tearing through enemy cover.

Ethan, Stone and Lyra sprinted across dirt to form a protective line near the archaeologists’ truck, shielding it from incoming fire.

BOOM!

A grenade exploded nearby, showering dirt and debris everywhere.

Arthur charged through smoke like a wraith; daggers gleamed in his hands as he sliced one gunner’s throat before he even realized Arthur was there.

Another enemy turned their rifle toward him,but Arthur’s pistol barked once more, ending that threat swiftly.

The enemy broke quickly after just fifteen minutes of chaos,the road was theirs again for now. But no one relaxed; they all knew this wasn’t over yet.

The ninth ambush struck an hour later, and this time, the attackers were a well-oiled machine.

Mortars crashed into the road ahead, sending one of the escort trucks tumbling sideways as fire danced across the ground.

The squad fought with ferocity,their rifles barked like angry beasts, each shot mingling with the thunderous explosions and piercing screams that filled the air.

Arthur moved through the chaos like a force of nature, his body a weapon of precision, each strike leaving another lifeless form in its wake.

But fatigue was creeping in. His breath came in ragged gasps, hands trembling slightly between strikes.

Sweat streamed down his forehead, stinging his eyes and blurring his vision. The Regalia supported him, but it couldn’t erase the toll that relentless killing was taking on his spirit.

Meanwhile, the archaeologists huddled deeper inside their armored truck, trembling at each explosion that rocked their world.

Knuckles white from gripping their seats too tightly, one of them sobbed quietly while another muttered desperate prayers under his breath,his voice hoarse with fear. They were safe for now but crumbling inside.

As the ambush subsided, they all felt the weight of lost time pressing down on them like a heavy fog. And deep down, they knew: the mountain wouldn’t wait.

Then came dusk,the tenth ambush and it was worse than before.

A rocket screamed from above, slamming into one of their escort vehicles with a deafening BOOM!

The explosion ripped through metal and flesh alike; fire consumed everything in its path.

Inside that truck had been Sergeant Korran, a veteran who had stood shoulder to shoulder with Arthur since this campaign began.

The suit had saved others before him; today it failed spectacularly. The impact was direct, armor crumpled under brutal force as flames devoured all hope within.

For just a heartbeat, time froze for Arthur’s squad,then fury ignited within them like wildfire.

"Suppress those launchers!" Gunner roared, rage cracking through his voice as he unleashed round after round from his massive rifle,stone splintering beneath relentless firepower.

Soldiers surged forward like wolves on a hunt, firing without mercy.

Arthur felt Korran’s death hit him hard,a physical blow to his chest that twisted something deep inside him.

Though he kept his face stoic and calm for his men’s sake,the bond forged in battle couldn’t be dulled by any system or armor designed to numb emotion.

He forced himself onward towards where rockets rained down hellfire.

Three enemies crouched near their launcher when Arthur arrived; instinct kicked in as he didn’t hesitate,pistols roared and daggers flashed in swift arcs of violence until blood painted the rocks around him red and stillness fell over those bodies at last.

But when the chaos finally subsided, he stood over the fallen bodies, his chest heaving and eyes as cold as steel.

A storm brewed in his stomach, and his throat felt parched. Grief was a luxury he couldn’t afford,not now. His men looked to him for strength; he couldn’t show any sign of faltering.

The convoy regrouped, leaving behind Korran’s smoldering truck, its flames licking at the darkening sky like desperate fingers. Silence enveloped them,no words from Ethan or Gunner.

The weight of loss hung heavy in the air, pressing down on Arthur more than anyone else.

They pressed onward into the narrowing road, flanked by towering cliffs that seemed to loom ever higher as dusk descended.

And high above them, unseen eyes observed.

Ravik Thorne lay flat against a rocky outcrop, binoculars glued to his face.

His men crouched behind him, weapons slung casually but their gazes sharp and alert.

The Crimson Jackals had been tailing Arthur’s convoy for hours,patient as the mountains themselves.

"Boss," one of them whispered urgently—the man who served as Ravik’s right hand.

"We’ve been watching them for over three days now. Why not strike? With our numbers, we could finish them off."

Ravik didn’t lower the binoculars; instead, his voice remained calm and steady like a mountain stream.

"Tell me this: what do most people come to the Ayzion Range for?"

The man frowned in thought. "Treasure? Relics? Or maybe they’re criminals hiding out?"

A faint smile curled at Ravik’s lips. "Do they look like criminals to you?"

His right-hand man hesitated before shaking his head slowly.

"No... They even have Aegis-7 escorts with them,and archaeologists."

"Exactly." Ravik’s eyes sparkled with intrigue as he tracked the convoy below, their trucks moving like wounded animals through the rugged pass.

"They’re here for something significant. And if archaeologists are involved, it isn’t just scrap metal,they might be after something priceless."

His men exchanged glances filled with excitement; talk of treasure ignited sparks in their eyes.

"But Boss," his right-hand pressed again, urgency creeping into his tone, "we’re losing time! There’s another group coming from the other side of the range,a bigger one than Arthur’s convoy! They’ve lost some numbers too but are still headed in the same direction."

At that revelation, Ravik lowered the binoculars and let a slow smile spread across his sharp features.

He licked his lips as a dangerous glint danced in his eyes.

"Interesting," he murmured almost to himself. "Two groups on the same path... both chasing after the same prize."

He stood up slowly, brushing the dirt off his coat like it was nothing more than a pesky fly.

His men straightened at his movement, the glint in his eyes sending a shiver down their spines.

"Let them bleed each other," Ravik murmured, a wicked smile playing on his lips as he savored the thought.

"Then we swoop in and claim what’s left."

The night deepened around them, cloaked in shadows and mystery.

Below, Arthur’s convoy pressed onward, bloodied and battered but determined. Meanwhile, above them, predators waited with patient grins, ready to pounce.

And with every passing moment, the tomb loomed closer.