Skull Racing Competition

The ground shook heavily, the earth trembling without warning as if struck by an earthquake. The mammoths, previously grazing in silence, seemed to encounter something unspeakably terrifying; led by their chieftain, Ramsdell the Blood-Colored, they shielded the calves in their center and bolted frantically toward the south.

Kas woke almost the instant the mammoth herd triggered the tremors. He tore off his blanket, snatched a burning log from the campfire, and strode to the edge of the hillside.

In the darkness, Ramsdell, covered in the marks of his honor, was visible only as a blurred, dark-red silhouette. He charged at the very front like a war fortress, putting distance between himself and the twenty-odd mammoths behind him.

Yet this was no flight in panic; he was crushing every object in his path that might hinder the calves' escape, guiding the herd's way forward through the gloom.

"Humm—toot!"

Kas had never heard of a creature capable of making Ramsdell the Blood-Colored flee as if facing a natural predator.

A herd of twenty adult mammoths was equivalent to a tank division in the Sorrow Mountains.

The only things capable of hindering their advance were dragon-hunting ballistae as thick as thighs, or—a natural disaster.

On the edge of the horizon, a haze as pale as ice crystals drifted slowly forward. Countless azure light spots flickered like fireflies, gathering and drifting in the air. Blue petals scattered in the wind, and gray, murky shadows were dragged by the moonlight as they spread toward the south.

"The Winter Vanguard? Damn it, of all the luck!"

Kas cursed under his breath.

The Winter Vanguard was an unpredictable magical storm. Those azure spots that looked like flickering fireflies were, in truth, the crystal heads of Wailing Ice Demons.

If one were to name the most notorious monsters of the Sorrow Mountains, it would undoubtedly be the Ice Demon family.

From the deformed Ice Demons as thin as wild dogs, to the Wailing Ice Demons that hungered for flesh, and even the mountain-sized Extreme Cold Ice Demons, all were names for the monsters that assaulted human settlements during the winter.

Legend held that they were the incarnations of the anger and hatred of those who had frozen to death, though this was never confirmed by the shamans. These magical creatures that appeared along with the winter were one of the most severe threats to the Rishiman People.

The Winter Vanguard referred to the natural disaster where Ice Demons gathered to erode warmer regions before the arrival of winter. Wherever they passed, nothing remained but ice shards and frozen ground.

Even a mammoth herd as powerful as a tank division had to lower its proud tusks and scurry away in disgrace when faced with Ice Demons from Wintergrad.

Rumors claimed the Winter Vanguard was a secret weapon left behind by the ancient Thunder Titans, created at the end of their war with the Rishiman People to sweep every Barbarian who might touch their cloud-piercing home with an endless, catastrophic storm.

But the truth mattered little to Kas now; he could already feel the storm approaching, and the log in his hand flickered, nearly extinguished by the rising gale.

He hurried back to the camp and commanded in an unquestionable tone:

"Drop everything that slows you down, including the food. Follow me!"

Driven by animal instinct, Seneya reluctantly threw down her dried meat and followed closely behind Kas.

Only Isidore, unaware of the danger, was still rolling up his blanket. He froze at the words:

"I don't think I can..."

"Die now, or die later? Isidore, if you want to survive in the Sorrow Mountains, besides a healthy body, you need a bit of luck and determination."

"Then I'll choose to die later." Isidore let out a long breath, knowing that if he continued to hesitate, his chances of survival would be slim to none.

He could only hear the vibrations of the running mammoths, but he didn't want to guess what could make Kas so nervous; he feared that if he knew, he would lose the courage to keep living.

The path through the nameless mountains was rugged and uneven, one slope after another. The omen of the Winter Vanguard's arrival was a gale caused by a rapid shift in air pressure.

A tomb recessed into the mountainside was blown apart by a gust of wind passing through a fissure in the rock. The loose soil erupted violently, surging outward like a geyser of filth.

Countless clods of earth tumbled through the air, carrying dozens of skeletons, dried to nothing but skin and bone, as they were launched from the cold tomb.

"Whoa! I'm flying!"

"Don't cut me off, I'm the one in first place, damn it!"

"Aha, the feeling of flying is truly glorious!"

Kas, who was leading Seneya and Isidore away from the path of the Winter Vanguard, looked up with a strange expression.

He watched as one skull after another streaked over his head, howling and shrieking as if holding a high-speed racing competition.

They seemed to want to escape that cold, dark world, their heads huddled together, covered in mud and crawling with insects, tumbling together toward the end of the known world.

Kas glanced back at the panting Isidore and pointed at the skull that had just zipped over their heads:

"Did you hear them talking?"

Isidore leaned on his knees, gasping for air. He looked at the skulls tumbling down the slope, his face full of confusion.

"You, you should have been a shaman. Why don't you ask them which way to run?"

Kas nodded, thinking it was a fine suggestion.

He shouted at the wailing, racing skull team, hoping the dead, fellow Rishiman Barbarians could point out a safe path.

"Hey, brothers! Is there anywhere on this mountain to hide from the Winter Vanguard?"

"There's a cave on the left that goes through the mountain, hidden by vines! This damn Winter Vanguard has frozen my brains solid—it's cold as hell!"

"You've been dead for hundreds of years, where would you get brains?"

"Oh, so the stuff rattling around in my head is just insect eggs? No wonder it smelled so bad... Wait, I've been dead for hundreds of years?!"

The carnival racing team charged straight into the haze of the Winter Vanguard, leaving behind a calm Kas and an equally calm Isidore.

"Now you've heard it, haven't you?"

Isidore nodded, beginning to grow numb to it all.

He no longer viewed the strange outlook on life and death in the Sorrow Mountains through the lens of the civilized southern world; at the very least, those shrieking skulls truly held no malice and had no intention of harming anyone.

The southerner took a swig of strong liquor and then spat it out violently; he needed a bit of heat to stir his vitality.

As they trekked along, owls that had taken flight at dusk spread their wings, slicing through the cold, cruel sky as if attempting to escape the shadow of the Winter Vanguard. They rose and fell, landing on cliffs, their chirping echoing in the wind, seemingly dyed a desperate black within the silent darkness.

Following the direction pointed out by his old brother, Kas soon found a rock wall covered in vines tucked away in an inconspicuous gully.

The gaps between the vines were filled with darkness, not the gray outlines of rock and soil; he drew his battle-axe to hack at them, then gave a forceful tug, pulling the vines aside like a curtain.

He glanced back at the frost-covered foothills, knowing they were about to cross the trail of the Winter Vanguard, and urged Seneya and Isidore to hurry inside.

Grabbing the severed vines, Kas tied a tight knot, thinking, I reckon this might create a bit of an obstacle for the Ice Demon, or perhaps it won't even enter this cave at all.

A black shadow suddenly sprang from behind his waist; Morse Ironbone, having endured for long enough, could finally no longer suppress the urge in his heart, shooting through the closing vines like a cannonball.

He shouted in excitement, "Little brat, there can only be one champion in this skull-racing competition, and that is me—the Speed King of Pierce Arena, Morse Ironbone!"