บท 97: Move out
A week passed in the blink of an eye.
The air in the early morning was filled with an atmosphere of tension and solemnity.
Though the mission was fraught with danger, the scouts showed no signs of hesitation.
Due to the complex and steep terrain of the Celestoria Mountain Range, the command decided not to provide warhorses.
Horses would be difficult to maneuver in such an environment and could become a burden instead.
As a result, everyone opted for light gear, carrying only the essentials but well-prepared.
Each person brought only a small amount of dried food and water, along with their most trusted weapons.
Borne, Dillon, Victor, and the rest of the eight-person team silently headed toward the designated assembly point.
It was a clearing where over forty elite scouts had already gathered.
Every person present was an experienced scout from the army.
Borne and his teammates quickly blended into the formation, their minds already prepared for this life-or-death mission.
Their sharp, hawk-like gazes revealed the calm of seasoned veterans.
An invisible pressure filled the air, making it difficult to breathe.
Each scout remained silent, their expressions grim.
Though they came from different regiments, they shared one thing in common:
They had all clawed their way back from the brink of death.
The scouts stood in orderly ranks, their gazes fixed straight ahead without a hint of relaxation.
Before long, Captain Khazik strode over.
He was the leader of this group and the central figure everyone trusted.
Khazik's steps were steady and powerful, his gaze as solid as stone.
This veteran scout had survived some of the most brutal battles, and his credentials commanded the respect of these experienced scouts.
As Khazik approached, everyone straightened their backs, their eyes fixed on him.
The formation fell completely silent.
This vanguard was like a sharpened blade, poised in silence, awaiting Khazik's command.
The orderly ranks emitted no noise except for the sound of heavy breathing in the air.
This group carried the burden of paving a safe path for the army.
The threat of magic beasts and the treacherous terrain would be their greatest test.
Despite this, the expressions on the faces of the veteran scouts remained grim.
They had fought through countless battles, and the blood and fire of the battlefield had long become part of their lives.
No one showed any hint of retreat or hesitation.
Their eyes were filled with steely determination as they silently awaited Captain Khazik's final order to set out.
However, to everyone's surprise, Khazik did not immediately issue combat orders.
He stood at the front of the formation, his sharp gaze sweeping over the group before turning to instruct a squad leader to fetch a barrel of wine.
The squad leaders moved quickly.
Soon, a large wine barrel was brought to the center of the clearing.
Following that, the other three squad leaders began distributing coarse ceramic bowls.
These bowls were rough and full of cracks, clearly cheap items.
Yet, at this moment, each scout solemnly accepted the bowl, holding it with both hands.
Khazik personally lifted the wine barrel, walked to the front of the formation, and filled each scout's bowl with wine.
As the wine slowly flowed into the ceramic bowls, the only sounds filling the clearing were the wind and the pouring liquid.
The scouts remained silent, their eyes still fixed firmly ahead, unshaken.
After the wine was poured, Khazik and the other four squad leaders also filled their own bowls.
But Khazik did not immediately drink. Instead, he held his bowl with both hands and stood before all the soldiers.
Khazik's gaze swept over the fifty scouts in front of him, each face bearing the resolve of someone prepared to die.
He took a deep breath, his voice steady and powerful, like the sound of a battle drum reverberating across the clearing.
"This mission may be a one-way trip. Are you afraid?"
As soon as his words fell, the fifty scouts responded with a thunderous roar that echoed throughout the camp.
"No!"
Each voice was unified, without hesitation.
These scouts had long prepared themselves for a battle they might not return from, their eyes shining with unwavering resolve.
Khazik nodded, a look of satisfaction on his face.
He needed no cowards in the face of battle, only fearless warriors like these.
"Good! This is what a soldier should be!"
His voice was louder, filled with a hint of excitement.
Then, he swept his gaze over them again, his tone turning low but brimming with strength.
"The wine in your hands may be your last drink. Are you afraid?"
"No!"
Their response was even louder than before, shaking the clearing.
They had already put life and death aside.
That single "No" was not only a declaration to themselves but also a promise to their comrades.
Khazik nodded in satisfaction, a cold smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"Good! Drink!"
With that command, all the scouts raised their bowls high without hesitation and downed the rough wine in one go.
Though the wine was harsh and burned their throats like fire, none of them flinched.
They boldly threw their heads back, gulping the liquid down.
Khazik was the first to finish, a determined look flashing in his eyes.
He forcefully smashed his ceramic bowl to the ground, and with a sharp crack, the bowl shattered into pieces, scattering in all directions.
Following suit, the rest of the scouts also smashed their bowls to the ground in unison.
In an instant, forty-nine ceramic bowls broke simultaneously, creating a thunderous noise.
The sound of the shards scattering echoed across the clearing like the beat of a war drum.
The fifty warriors, about to set foot on a life-or-death mission, were enveloped in an air of finality.
They had already steeled their hearts for the worst.
Khazik glanced around at the warriors before him, his gaze sharp, like a falcon scanning each resolute face.
His voice was low, yet it carried an unmistakable edge of coldness and determination.
"From this moment, there is no turning back.
We are the vanguard. We must carve a path of survival for the army behind us."
His words fell heavily, like the beating of a battle drum, each syllable landing on the hearts of the scouts.
Each scout looked at Khazik and shouted out loudly in response.
"Yes!"
Khazik paused for a moment, his gaze sweeping over them one final time, before issuing the command in a booming voice.
"Move out!"
The fifty scouts quickly formed up and began marching forward, heading toward the Celestoria Mountain Range.
Though their footsteps were not perfectly synchronized, in that moment, their spirits were as one.
A cold wind howled down from the depths of the mountain range, carrying with it a bone-chilling dampness.
It whipped against the scouts, pressing their clothes tightly against their skin.
Even so, not a single person complained.
As they marched deeper, the environment grew increasingly perilous.
The mountain path narrowed with each step.
Every scout's footsteps felt heavy.
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