Death Notice Book 8: Chapter 39: The Alamir Mountains

Release Date: 2026-06-11 18:23:14

A+A-Light Off<!--

«Volume 8 Chapter 37: The Route

Volume 2 Chapter 31: Combat Model »

“Crash…” Amidst the howling gale, the sound of tumbling stones drew everyone’s attention. As Qin Lun turned, he saw a figure plummeting headlong into the chasm at their feet.

“Help me…” The person desperately clawed at the nearby rock face. However, smoothed by years of ice and snow, the sheer cliff wall was as hard as iron and mirror-smooth. His struggles were futile.

“Thud!” After falling several dozen meters, the figure slammed into a protruding granite ledge. The violent impact forced a spray of bloody froth from his mouth, choking his cry for help. He swiftly vanished into the swirling snowstorm within the abyss.

“Joka… That idiot!” Stark suppressed the surge of grief and rage within him, slamming his fist against the rocky wall beside him, yet daring not to shout.

[“Apostle Joka 54012 deceased. Fortress Team reduced by one member!”] The notification from the Apostle Soul Mark inflicted a stifling fear on them all. The one who had just fallen was a Novice Apostle of the Fortress team.

The Alamir Mountains weren’t the tallest or largest range in southern Faerûn, but they were undoubtedly one of the deadliest, most treacherous. Unlike inland mountains, the Alamir range bordering the Steaming Lake held negligible geographical or commercial value. Peaks often soaring over a kilometer high with scarcely a gentle slope made mining prospects worthless.

This was a forbidden zone, hostile to life. Only the ancient Sannata Dwarves, who favored building within mountain hearts, had dwelled here. Even magical beasts and birds avoided the place. Most peaks remained perpetually snow-capped. Warm ocean breezes from the Steam Lake transformed into violent ice storms at altitudes above a kilometer, polishing the eastern face of the mountains into a sheer “crystal” wall.

Because the Alamir Mountains were so remote and untrodden, the party couldn’t find a suitable path. They had to rely on Iristin in her giant eagle form to scout ahead. Kelly, equipped with her Battle Qi Wings, and Philip, the Second Order Mage capable of brief flight, took turns forging the path up front. Their job was to spot ice caves – crusts deceptively solid on the surface but hollow beneath.

This was precisely why the hapless Joka ultimately went unsaved. The “road” beneath Qin Lun and the others’ feet was a meager half-foot-wide natural “ledge.” They had to press tightly against the slippery, mirror-like cliff wall to navigate it. The path was intermittent, demanding climbing using weapons in some stretches, while the most dangerous segments forced reliance on Iristin or Kelly for transit.

Despite the extreme peril, nobody before Joka had imagined a nimble Apostle could tumble to their death off the cliff.

“Stark, should we ask Leader Kelly or Philip to come back with one?” Robin broke a long silence, turning finally to ask Stark.

“No! They’re both in even more danger than we are. By now, their battle qi and mana reserves, not to mention their spirits, are severely depleted. Tagging each other on scouting duty provides mutual backup. We cannot add more to their burden.”

Stark took a deep breath, struggling to calm his nerves, his voice low. “The one who fell has only himself to blame for his carelessness. We are Professional Apostles, not helpless infants needing babysitting.”

Robin gave the large man an appreciative look. He dropped the suggestion about recalling Kelly and Philip but still murmured a reminder: “We’ll be fine, but the two Elf Princes must not come to harm. Alright, you stick with Firal, and I’ll watch Milleras.”

“Agreed.” A flicker of something unreadable passed through Stark’s eyes as he nodded curtly. Although the Alamir Mountain range’s vicious environment was unexpected, it didn’t diminish his respect for Robin.

This beautiful Leader was indeed capable. At the very least, reaching this point relied on Robin’s carefully crafted plan to evade detection. However, this underscored the critical importance of Firal’s Plot Identity. Without Qin Lun, even if the Fortress Team had joined this Plot Mission, they would likely have been relegated to obediently taking orders from others.

The recent accident cast a pall over the group when they resumed moving. Yet, their focus became sharper. Not a single person wanted to die the humiliating death of a clumsy cliff fall.

Over an hour later, they finally traversed the treacherous ledge, crossing the pinnacle of this mountain.

“Finally across!” The giant eagle folded its wings. Iristin transformed back to her elven form, landing beside Qin Lun, her face etched with unconcealed exhaustion.

“Firal, Iristin, do you see that patch of green in the distance?” Milleras approached, pointing toward a massive forest far across the mountain range. “That should be Ilfaron’s Mir Forest? We’re almost there!”

A faint silvery glint passed through Qin Lun’s eyes as he strained his vision towards the distance. The Mir Forest resembled the Arabic numeral “7,” stretching east-west to the north and north-south to the east, forming a right angle. Less than twenty kilometers from the western foothills of the Alamir range, its hazy shape was now visible from their lofty perch.

“Heh, we still have to get down this mountain first.” Qin Lun chuckled softly, peering down the steep western slope. “While the western side isn’t as sheer as the eastern cliffs, a fall from here would still make you nothing but a messy paste.”

The western slope faced inland towards Calimshan. Bereft of moisture from the Steaming Lake, the icy storms lessened considerably. Bare rock, stained a dark brown, emerged less than a hundred meters below the summit. Patches of dark soil and even sparse green vegetation were visible in some places.

However, as Qin Lun had said, it was no easy descent. Although the slippery ice walls were gone and the gradient was gentler, the path down remained tortuous, winding through jagged rocks and boulders.

“At least rescue might be possible here, unlike before!” Milleras sighed, his expression darkening. He too had witnessed Joka’s fall. Though he hadn’t known the mercenary team member well, losing a companion still saddened the proud Sun Elf Prince.

“Let’s move. Leader Robin is urging us ahead.” Qin Lun gave Milleras an encouraging pat on the shoulder and started down the slope first.

…

“We miscalculated. I hadn’t imagined the Alamir Mountains would be this arduous. It seems we’ll have to camp on the mountainside overnight,” Robin remarked, sweeping a lock of hair behind her ear as her eyes tracked the setting sun on the horizon, her tone resigned.

“It’s still remarkable,” Kelly countered, rubbing her nose reddened by the bitter wind, a rare note of praise in her voice. “Ordinary people attempting this peak, even expert climbers, would need days. We’re actually quite fast.”

“Right! And the key is those plot elves haven’t been much trouble.” The female elf with the Beastmaster Hunting Bow on her back, a member of the Lost Team, piped up cheerfully. “The two Elf Princes aren’t pampered. They’ve endured the unbearable conditions even we Apostles struggle with all this way!”

“Elf Princes?” Kelly murmured, a slight frown creasing her brow as her gaze flickered thoughtfully towards Milleras and the trio.

“Kelly, what is it?” Robin caught Kelly’s sudden scrutiny and asked discreetly via their private mental link.

“Nothing.” Kelly pulled her gaze away, shrugging it off. “I just have a feeling that the Moon Elf Prince Firal seems… familiar somehow.”

“Still think he might be an Apostle?” Robin’s eyes flashed subtly. “Want to test him again?”

“No need,” Kelly replied coolly. “The teams are cooperating now. They even shared that ‘Ancient Path (Fake)’ information. It’s pointless to cause friction over this guesswork. Whether that guy is an Apostle or not, he won’t be able to hide it forever. Even if he is an Apostle, the worst it does is give them a bit more authority in plot decisions. Forget it. The distribution of gains among us Apostles ultimately comes down to strength alone.”

“Kelly, you’re still so domineering!” Robin blinked, then grinned in agreement.

“Be serious! You lead a team now!” Kelly rolled her eyes, feigning annoyance.

“Ah…!” A sudden cry interrupted Kelly and Robin’s exchange. A figure tumbled clumsily towards the cliff edge.

“What idiot is that now?!” Kelly snarled, equal parts fury and alarm. Her ethereal Battle Qi Wings burst from her back. She surged forward from the ranks, intent on rescue.

The western slope was less precipitous. Having descended from the peak, they were now positioned mid-mountain where thick snow had largely melted away. She and Philip were no longer needed as scouts ahead.

But she was too far away. Before she could intervene, someone else reacted more quickly. That person smoothly unslung the long bow from his back, nocking a Fine Iron Long Arrow trailed by a rope.

“Twang!” A brilliant streak of white light seared onto the group’s retinas. When their vision cleared, the stumbling figure who nearly became plummeting paste had wisely grabbed the arrow embedded into the rock near him. He was pulled back to safety.

“Firal, thank you!” Milleras said with heartfelt gratitude. The near-victim had been one of the four remaining Elven Rangers assigned to him.

“You idiot! Thank Prince Firal!” The fallen Ranger’s companions scolded him with a mixture of relief and exasperation. However, the recovered Ranger himself frowned, bending over to feel around on the rocky ground.

“Lose something?” Qin Lun asked, stepping closer, a curious gleam in his eye.

“No, Your Highness Firal,” the flustered Ranger stammered, his reddening face still puzzled. “It’s just that earlier it felt like…” He hesitated, then shook his head. “Never mind. It was nothing!”

“It wasn’t nothing!” A voice suddenly cut in, unusually firm. It was Long’er, the Rogue from the Fortress Team.

Long’er pointed downwards. “Look at this…”

Qin Lun turned to see Long’er gesturing at a spot on the path near the Ranger’s stumble. Everyone followed his finger, looking puzzled. The spot seemed utterly ordinary – no obviously jutting stone, no slick patch of soil.

Without needing prompting, Long’er took two steps forward and crouched. Carefully, he brushed aside loose gravel and dirt with his palm.

Underneath, a thin crack in the rock began to reveal itself to the group.

«Volume 8 Chapter 37: The Route

Index

Volume 2 Chapter 31: Combat Model »