Monster Evolution System: I became a Rat-Chapter 82: Monster in the Mount

A pale strand of Foxtail fluttered in the air before the cohort. One by one, they noticed it, their gazes shifting from the herb to one another.

A sudden joy erupted among them. Without hesitation, they moved closer. The Foxtail clung to a steep ridge, its fragile strands swaying gently in the wind. The rest of the cohort turned their attention to the assassin.

"Alright. I will be back in a second," he said, his voice calm as he stepped forward, his movements light and precise as he made use of his assassin’s nimble footwork.

Up close, the Foxtail looked starkly pale, almost lifeless, as though it barely held any value at all.

With slow and steady steps, the assassin edged closer to the ridge. Occasionally, his feet dislodged small stones, which tumbled down into the unseen depths below.

"Hey, be careful," the warrior called out, watching from the sidelines.

The assassin gave a faint nod and continued.

He moved with deliberate caution, controlling his breathing as he advanced. He listened for any unusual sound, knowing that even the faintest misstep could be fatal. The narrow slope could barely support a man’s weight.

Still, he did not falter. His nimble steps left no room for error.

Soon enough, he reached the Foxtail. It was right before him. He bent down as slowly as he could, careful not to lose his balance. Everything felt perfectly aligned, held in a fragile equilibrium.

With the Foxtail between his fingers, he snapped seven strands. They broke with ease.

For a moment, everything remained calm. Under control.

Then, suddenly, his footing shifted.

The ground beneath him trembled.

His heart lurched as he realized he was going to fall. The snapping of the Foxtail had weakened the fragile earth on which he stood.

He looked toward his teammates, reaching out for help.

But instead of aid, he saw them turning away, running as soon as disaster befell him.

The assassin’s eyes widened in shock, then despair, as the ground beneath him finally gave way and he began to fall toward the abyss below.

Regret and pain filled his expression, but only briefly.

As he descended, a massive shadow crept across his vision, looming over his fleeing teammates.

A bitter thought crossed his mind.

"Serves you right," he murmured, taking his final breath.

As the assassin fell, the ground collapsed with him. The cohort broke into a run, knowing that if they hesitated even a moment longer, they would be dragged into the depths below.

The mage cried out, panic tearing through his voice. "I will give you magic stones for helping me reach the next ridge." He called desperately to the three warriors ahead of him.

The warriors exchanged glances. After a brief hesitation, one of them turned back, grabbed the mage, and hoisted him onto his shoulder.

"Remember to keep your promise, mage," the warrior said grimly, never slowing his pace.

The others were already far ahead now.

The warrior gritted his teeth and forced his legs to move faster, but the ground beneath them began to fracture even more violently. Cracks spread like veins through brittle stone.

"Damn it." A guttural cry escaped his throat. His blood red eyes burned as he poured every shred of vitality he had left into a final burst of speed.

"Go, go." The mage screamed, his voice cracking, strained to the brink of breaking.

"Aaarrgh." With a final roar, the warrior leapt.

His legs wobbled under the strain as his hands slammed against the rock ahead. His fingers slipped once, then caught. His nails tore and began to bleed as he forced them into a narrow gap, locking his grip in place.

"Y... yes... we m... made it," the mage exhaled, his voice broken and trembling.

Above them, the two warriors who had reached the ridge first tightened their hold and pulled themselves higher, climbing slowly and deliberately. From time to time, they glanced down, carefully testing each hold, wary of loose stone.

Below, the mage and the warrior began to move again. Slowly now. Carefully. They knew that lingering too long would doom them. The rock beneath them could give way at any moment.

With that thought burning in his mind, the warrior forced himself onward. His body screamed in protest. His strength was nearly gone. Blood dripped from his ruined nails.

Still, he moved.

"W... we alre... already... ther... there," the mage whispered, his voice more whistle than sound.

Slowly, the warrior and the mage continued their ascent at a reduced pace. More than once, something slipped beneath them, nearly plunging them into the abyss below. At times, they were forced to stop, the worsening bleeding from the warrior’s hands weakening his grip on the rock.

The mage knew no healing spells. There was little he could do. Whenever he could, he grasped the stone himself and lifted his weight, easing the burden on the warrior’s shoulder.

Even that was enough to grant the warrior brief moments of rest.

Together, they moved again.

The two warriors ahead had long since stopped looking back. By now, they had disappeared over the ridge entirely.

The mage whispered, his breath unsteady, "Did th... they find the Foxtail up there?"

The warrior replied in a husky voice, "Stop thinking about that now, mage. We should focus on surviving."

After a pause, he added quietly, "Unfortunately, our friend did not make it." Regret and pain weighed heavily in his words.

The mage fell silent. He asked no further questions.

They continued climbing in grim silence. Time and again, they stopped to catch their breath before forcing themselves onward.

Luck, at least, did not abandon them. No further disaster struck, and soon the ledge was within reach. With one final effort, the warrior hauled both of them upward, and they collapsed onto the upper ridge.

They lay there, exhausted, breathing heavily, each breath loud and ragged.

The mage, having exerted himself far less, recovered quickly. He rose to his feet and cried out, searching for the two warriors who had gone ahead.

Then his gaze froze.

A dark figure sat not far away.

It was humanoid, yet larger than trees. A bipedal form cloaked in thick white fur, hunched as it fed. In its massive hands were two bodies, already broken, already being devoured.

They were the two warriors from their cohort.

The mage’s eyes widened in terror.

The creature stopped chewing.

Bone cracked between its jaws as it slowly lifted its head.

The mage’s breath caught in his throat. The thing’s face was half buried in white fur, its eyes sunken and dark, reflecting nothing. When it rose to its full height, the ridge itself seemed to shrink beneath it.

"R-run," the mage whispered.

The warrior did not answer.

Instead, he pushed himself up, bloodied hands tightening around his weapon. His arms trembled. His body screamed for rest. Still, he stepped forward, placing himself between the mage and the monster.

The creature inhaled.

The air itself seemed to pull toward its lungs.

Then it screamed.

The sound was not just a roar but also in between tearing shriek, raw and animalistic yet unknown, laced with something only forbidden text would know. The ridge vibrated. Loose stones burst free and cascaded into the abyss.

"Fire." The warrior barked. "Now."

The mage reacted on instinct.

Flames erupted from his palms, a wide, uncontrolled surge that washed over the creature’s torso. Heat distorted the air. Fur blackened and curled. The smell of burning filled the ridge.

The creature didn’t react.

The mage and warrior’s eyes widened in surprise at the sight.

Then it stepped forward through the fire.

Its arm swung.

The warrior barely raised his weapon in time. The impact shattered stone. The force hurled him sideways like a broken doll. He struck the rock wall with a sickening crack and fell, unmoving.

"NO." The mage screamed.

Panic surged through him. He poured more mana into the flames, pushing them harder, hotter. Fire wrapped around the monster’s head, its chest, its arms.

Still it advanced.

Its skin beneath the fur glowed red, then split. Steam hissed from its body. Its eyes locked onto the mage.

It lunged.

The mage stumbled back and thrust his hands forward again, switching spells mid panic. Frost burst outward, jagged ice forming along the ground and racing toward the creature’s legs.

The ice reached it.

For a brief, fragile moment, the monster slowed. Frost climbed its limbs, cracking and spreading.

Hope flared for a second.

Then the creature stamped its foot.

The ice shattered instantly. The shockwave knocked the mage flat onto his back. His staff skidded away, spinning toward the edge.

The monster loomed over him.

Its shadow swallowed the light.

The mage scrabbled backward, hands burning as he summoned one last spell. Flames sputtered, weak and unstable.

"Stay back." he cried, voice breaking. "STAY BACK."

The creature bent down.

Its hand closed around his leg.

With a single pull, bone snapped.

The scream that tore from the mage was thin and wet, stolen almost immediately by the creature’s jaws as it lifted him from the ground. Fire flared once more, useless and wild, scorching the monster’s face.

It bit down.

The scream ended.

Blood splashed the white fur, turning it dark and steaming.

Behind them, the warrior stirred.

He dragged himself forward, one arm useless, vision blurred. He saw the mage’s broken staff. He saw what remained of his companion.

A low, broken laugh escaped his throat.

"So this is it," he rasped.

The creature turned.

It dropped what was left of the mage and walked toward him, slow and deliberate. Each step crushed stone. Each breath fogged the air.

The warrior forced himself upright, weapon shaking in his grip.

"Come," he whispered.

The monster smiled.

Then struck once.