Chapter 367| This Mountain Is Still Alive

The infiltration plan was forged under the pitch-black veil before dawn.

In the corner of the outpost barricade, still reeking of the metallic tang of blood and gunpowder smoke, Rianor Sudrath stood staring at a crude map spread across a wooden crate. The Arcanotech Bracer on his left arm was in sleep mode. Only an ultra-fine hum of vibration indicated the device was ready to unleash its power at a moment’s notice.

"We cannot be seen," Rianor began flatly. His eyes stared straight ahead, dissecting the plan like the pure anatomy of a machine, completely ignoring the fact that this was a one-way ticket to their graves.

"The infiltration team is locked at five. Myself, Yara, Riven, Selene, and Lieur. No more, no less. The smaller our footprint, the harder it will be for them to detect us."

The Head of Research’s gray eyes shifted to the young scout nearby. "Do you know the terrain around the cave by heart?"

"Barely, Sir," Lieur answered softly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yesterday, I only dared to monitor it from a distance."

"Good enough. At least you understand the safe perimeters and the blind spots of their patrol routes."

On the other side of the barricade, Roland stood with his arms crossed. "While you infiltrate, Thorne, Rumina, and I will hold this outpost. If you don’t return within two days..." Roland paused. "...we will assume you are either captured or dead. We will execute the final option."

Riven turned his head, one eyebrow raised sharply. "What kind of final option?"

Roland carved a thin smile that didn’t reach his eyes. "Blowing up the limestone gorge from the outside. Burying everything. But remember, that’s a fallback."

Riven let out a low scoff. "Tch, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that."

They moved out before the sun could even tear through the eastern horizon.

The fog in the Eastern Mountains was much thicker than usual. The bone-chilling damp air carried the pungent scent of wet limestone and sulfur. Yara crept right behind Lieur, her arms tightly hugging the bag containing her wrenches, clamps, and copper wire rolls—her literal lifeline in the field.

Along the cliff walls they navigated, the rusted remains of steam pipe installations stood as silent witnesses. Several old valves had popped off their mounts, dangling like broken arms. Yara paused for a moment, touching one of the pipes that was still warm from the residual pressure of the military outpost below. The mechanic knew this network was once the lifeblood of the mines before the Iron Empire took over.

"Why are you stopping?" Lieur whispered ahead of her.

"Just making sure there are no rogue steam leaks that could betray our position with their hiss," Yara answered softly, before resuming her crawl.

Rianor was in the center of the formation. His Bracer occasionally blinked dimly, piercing the fog for a fraction of a second to scan for thermal anomalies before immediately powering down. Selene was tasked with closing the rear, letting her magical instincts read every shift in the mountain’s wind pressure.

Their route consisted of the remnants of an old pipeline cutting across the steep slopes. Rust had eaten away at the iron for years, but it was still sturdy enough to serve as a literal foothold for survival.

Crunch!

Limestone gravel crumbled beneath Yara’s boots. She lost her balance.

Before the girl could plummet into the ravine, a leather-gloved hand clamped onto her left arm with mechanical precision. Incredibly strong, and utterly silent.

"Keep your eyes on your footing, not the shadows down there," Rianor whispered coldly.

Yara held her breath. Her pale face suddenly flushed with warmth amidst the freezing air. Without daring to meet the man’s eyes, she merely gave a stiff nod, hurriedly stabilizing her footing once more.

After two hours of torture against the rocky cliffs, Lieur finally raised a clenched fist. Halt.

They had reached the blind spot.

The mouth of the colossal cave gaped before them, as pitch-black as the maw of a primordial monster.

Right at its frontline, two rows of dwarven guards stood as still as statues. Their short, stocky frames were clad in layered leather armor, blending perfectly into the cliff’s shadows. Massive steel axes hung silently on their backs. No idle chatter. No boisterous laughter typical of mercenaries.

However, upon closer inspection, one of the guards on the far left let out a slow yawn, glancing at his comrade with sleep-heavy eyes. The thick curtain of fog wasn’t enough to hide that body language from Riven.

"They aren’t the walking dead," Riven hissed from behind the rock crevice, observing their patterns. "But their discipline is near perfect. Hah, twelve guards. The left flank has a narrow window of delay when the shift change happens."

"That gap isn’t wide enough to slip all of us in at once," Selene countered softly. The Arcanum Master tilted her head, closing her eyes. "Wait... the draft coming from inside this cave is flowing constantly. There’s a secondary air vent on the right side, right behind that jagged, moss-covered rock."

Rianor glanced through his glasses, crunching the variables. She was right. The curtain of dead moss concealed a fissure just wide enough for a human to squeeze through.

"We breach in two phases," Rianor decided, his voice practically soundless. "Riven and Selene will clear the path. Once it’s secure, Yara, Lieur, and I will follow."

Riven glanced at Selene beside him. "Ready?"

Selene exhaled slowly. "More than ready."

The fifteen-second cycle began.

Riven bolted forward like a colossal shadow. Selene trailed behind him as light as a falling leaf, sweeping away their aerial wake. Right as the dwarven guards rotated their positions, the two of them neatly slipped into the darkness of the fissure on the right.

Behind his rock, Rianor counted down in his head. Three seconds passed. He gave a sharp signal with his eyes.

Yara felt her knees go weak, but she refused to be a burden. The girl suppressed her dread, crawling swiftly to match the rhythm of Rianor’s footsteps. Lieur locked the formation from the rear.

One held breath... and they were swallowed by the darkness of the cave.

Safe.

The atmosphere inside shifted instantly. It was much warmer, and breathtakingly expansive.

The cave ceiling vaulted high above, laden with rows of massive stalactites. The dim blue glow from Rianor’s Bracer was now free to illuminate their surroundings, revealing a startling truth. The cave walls weren’t natural. Symmetrical engravings stretched all along the stone corridor.

Yara stepped closer, wiping the dust off one of the walls. Her fingertips traced the pristine carvings depicting stocky figures wielding hammers, surrounded by mountains and subterranean river currents.

"Gods..." Yara whispered, her eyes widening in awe. "This isn’t just a monster’s den... this is a remnant of an ancient dwarven civilization."

The walls held more than mere decoration. There were sprawling reliefs telling tales of Wyvern pack hunts, the forging of axes in the belly of the cave, and a ritual of igniting fire from stone. Yara touched a section illustrating dwarves channeling water from the mountain peaks into arid valleys. She was suddenly reminded of the dockworkers’ tales about an era when the Eastern Mountains were still green, long before the Iron Empire’s factory smokestacks belched their eternal ash.

Rianor didn’t comment on the awe. He dialed up the light intensity of his Bracer, sweeping it forward. There was an invisible residue of static energy resonating from the base of the cliff ahead of them.

"The heart of the mountain," Rianor murmured, his tone shifting slightly. "They carved this place out long before the gears of the Iron Empire ever started turning."

They ventured deeper, navigating the corridor until it finally opened up into a colossal circular chamber.

In the center of the room, an ancient stone altar stood resolute. The circular engravings typical of dwarven civilization covered every inch of its surface. Resting right at its peak was a stone statuette the size of an arm; a heavily bearded dwarven figure with its eyes shut tight.

"A sanctuary..." Selene unconsciously touched her chest. "No wonder the security outside is so tight. They’re guarding this place for spiritual reasons, not just as a rebel stronghold."

Rianor stepped toward the altar. Without hesitation, his fingers graced the ice-cold stone surface.

Bzzzt...!

The Bracer’s interface on his arm suddenly flickered wildly. Sparks of blue energy flared up, reacting to Rianor’s skin making contact with the stone altar.

"Rianor!" Riven hissed, his short sword already half-drawn.

Rianor hastily yanked his hand back. His eyes narrowed sharply, analyzing the data that had just flooded in. "There is a pure mana fluctuation at the base of this cave. This is their life source."

Yara braved a step forward. "Wait, so... those dwarven rebels can actually use magic?"

"Not magical manipulation like Selene’s," Rianor quickly corrected. "This is different. More primordial. Wilder. Pure resonance from the earth’s core."

"Resonance like this typically only exists in regions with deep histories and strong bonds to nature," Selene added, her eyes never leaving the altar. "I can feel it. This mountain is still alive."

Silence fell over them. Yara stared deeper into the altar. The ancient stone seemed to harbor a consciousness that wasn’t entirely asleep.

Krrrk... srek...

The sound of crushed limestone suddenly shattered the quiet.

Everyone in the room froze. Riven instantly drew his sword fully, while Selene began gathering the glow of mana at her fingertips.

From an alcove of darkness in the corner of the room, a pair of small eyes suddenly ignited. A faded red, like burning embers.

Short, heavy footsteps resonated. Slowly, they drew closer. Heavy breathing and the smell of wet earth began to permeate the air.

The shadow moved forward step by step, keeping half of its body veiled in darkness.

The heavy, short footfalls echoed, slowly but surely stepping out of the darkness and into the light.

They were not alone in there.