[Lost Era 1001, July 27, Clear, Gray Desolate Plains.]
The fourth day down the mountain.
Clearly, the saying "easy up the mountain, hard down it" did not apply to this journey. On the contrary, it was precisely because the Snakefolk lurking in the mountains had been kidnapping passing travelers as slaves that accidents kept occurring on the way up.
Only after learning the truth and descending alongside them did they realize that although the latter half of the route was steep as well,
the most troublesome issue was that there were simply too many people coming down the mountain.
The Crackhowl Tribe had 337 people. The Progenitor and Pureblood Snakefolk numbered 1,218 in total. The kidnapped "slaves" numbered as many as 2,703—forgive the term, but it made counting easier.
It was hard to imagine that the snake den had kept so many mercenaries and adventurers. Considering that professionals made up seventy percent of them, this combined force did not actually need to fear the Snakefolk.
Considering that these were captives taken in small batches over nearly half a year, all one could say was that the Snakefolk knew how to pick on the weak. Those groups that were numerous and looked difficult to provoke, they would simply let pass.
No matter what, food had failed to crush Wind Sand Islet, yet it was about to crush this newly assembled—alliance? For now, that was what this group would be called.
The Crackhowl Tribe's resources could hardly support a collective that had expanded tenfold overnight. Even if they scoured the entire barren Gray Mountains, they might not find a single edible plant even after digging up the bedrock.
If this alliance was to retain its fighting strength, they could not keep them alive on only the most basic nutrients, as the Snakefolk