High in the hills, Krugger did not hesitate.
If anyone had asked him why, his answer would have been simple: It's not that I don't want to stay. It's that I can't.
Cracks were spreading across the mountain's skin, long black veins tearing through stone and soil, crawling outward until they nearly encircled him and his men. Pebbles rattled loose under their boots. The ground groaned, deep and strained, like something alive being pushed too far.
"Move!" Krugger barked. "Ghost Forest—now!"
A shallow tremor rolled through the heights, strong enough to knock balance from the unwary.
"What the hell…" Krugger growled, staring at the fractures. "Those shells almost tore the mountain apart."
His men were pale, breathing hard. None of them had expected it—no one plans to break a mountain. Krugger narrowed his eyes, scanning the slope.
"That was all?" he muttered.
The guide swallowed. It was his first time seeing something like this."I… I don't know, sir."
