Monster Evolution System: I became a Rat-Chapter 81: Mount Hermit
2 February 2040. Backyard of Adventurer guild, Vermis.
A man stood tall and stern, several scrolls clasped firmly in his hand. He unfurled one and began to read aloud.
"Attention, remaining recruits."
"The second phase of the test is to gather Foxtail Herbs from Mount Hermit and deliver them to the Adventurers’ Guild."
With that, Michael turned toward the remaining participants and shouted, "Begin!"
The adventurers moved immediately. The five of them quickly formed a group, naturally led by the mage. They hesitated for a moment, glancing toward Rosacer, but none dared to invite him.
Rosacer did not wait either.
Without sparing them a glance, he left the arena, slipping into a secluded alley where his figure vanished without a trace.
The rest of the team released a heavy sigh of relief.
The mage spoke first. "Now that this is no longer a battle, cooperation is our best option."
"I know that Foxtail Herbs grow near the ridges of the mountain. We will need either a magic item that enhances balance or, ideally, one that grants flight."
One of the remaining three crossed his arms. "I have mastered Assassin’s Nimble Steps. I can retrieve the Foxtail myself, but I will require compensation if I am to gather all of it for the group."
The warrior let out a low grunt. "Then what is the point of forming a team? Do it alone. I am not guarding anyone on Mount Hermit."
The mage exchanged glances with the other two members before speaking again. "It is still better if we move together. We will divide the effort equally."
"The warrior and I will handle the main defense," the mage added. "The assassin will retrieve the herbs."
The remaining two nodded. "We will guard as well and assist the assassin if needed."
"Then it is settled," the mage declared, clapping his hands once to finalize the plan.
They parted soon after, agreeing to regroup at the city’s exit once each of them was prepared.
After checking their inventories and the condition of their equipment, they gathered at the city gates.
Thus, the cohort’s voyage began.
They followed a stone-laid road that gradually gave way to a narrow jungle path, worn into the earth by countless footsteps. As they advanced, the surroundings thickened, until dense, lush vegetation enclosed them on all sides.
Mount Hermit was known as a place where herbs were mostly useless and of low quality. It connected to no trade routes and led nowhere, existing in the middle of the wilderness. Finding a proper path through it was, therefore, troublesome.
They moved forward with difficulty. At times, the mage halted to burn away tangled woods and creeping vines that blocked their progress.
"Move. Move. I will handle this," the warrior said to the others, stepping ahead and hacking through the vines and thick fauna that barred the way.
The flames remained contained, as the young vines resisted burning, preventing the fire from spreading and consuming the jungle.
Eventually, the troublesome forest thinned and ended. At last, they emerged from the greenery and reached the mountain’s skirts.
The warrior took the lead, carving a steady path upward. The mage followed close behind him, while the assassin trailed just a step back, eyes constantly scanning the terrain. The remaining two warriors stayed on guard, watching both the path behind and the open slopes ahead.
Fortunately, they encountered no monsters in the jungle below. Because of that, none of them were injured or exhausted, and everyone reached the mountain in good condition, ready for the climb ahead.
The mage called out as they moved, "The Foxtail grows near the ridges. I have never heard of monsters dwelling on Mount Hermit, but remain alert. Some creatures migrate. If we are unlucky, we may still encounter one."
The others nodded firmly and began the ascent.
Mount Hermit had no steep, treacherous slopes. Compared to other mountains, the climb was manageable. Still, the mage struggled at times, his breathing uneven as the air thinned. Each time he faltered, the warrior slowed and offered support, helping him up without complaint, storing the favor for later repayment.
The rest of the team handled the climb well.
After several hours, they reached the mountain’s central slopes. By now, the Foxtail’s growing grounds should have been close. Even so, they stopped, leaning against stone and catching their breath.
"Just a few more meters," the mage said, trying to sound confident.
The warrior exhaled heavily. "Yeah. I keep hearing that." He glanced at the mage, then added, "But I am not tired of hearing it." A faint smile tugged at his lips.
The mage laughed softly in return.
The assassin finally spoke. "Looks like my turn has come." He glanced toward the other two warriors. "And I hope you do not have to follow."
Before anyone could reply, the mage raised a hand. "Stay alert from here on. The higher we climb, the more vulnerable we become."
"With no cover," the mage said, heaving a breath, "an airborne monster would have a fine time picking us off one by one."
"I am a little hungry. Should we eat before moving?" the warrior asked.
The other two members quickly agreed, voicing their support.
The mage turned toward the assassin. "What about you? Do you wish to rest as well?"
"I do not mind either way," the assassin replied calmly.
With that, the cohort decided to take a short break. They settled where they stood, careful not to stray too close to the edge.
They unpacked their rations, poured water from their waterskins into their parched throats, and for a brief moment forgot the climb as they sat to rest their weary bodies.
From their position, the sharp ridges of the mountain were clearly visible, cutting against the sky like jagged blades. What those ridges concealed, however, remained unknown.
The wind whispered softly across the stone, and none of them spoke of it, but each of them wondered the same thing.
What awaited them beyond.
Far away, within a realm unknown to men, something stirred.
In that unseen place, movement rippled through a shimmering expanse. A lone figure stood there, watching.
Through the distorted veil of space, the exhausted cohort could be seen resting on the mountain’s slopes, unaware of the gaze upon them.
Rosacer’s voice was barely more than a whisper.
"What... why are you resting?" he murmured. "You were almost there."
He had been watching them from the moment they left the city.
Rosacer locked onto the cohort, using them as his point of contact. Through them, he would activate Oblivion and teleport directly to Mount Hermit.
With Oblivion, he could arrive without alerting the group, retrieve the Foxtail, then use the instructor as a pinpoint to travel back. It was a simple plan that was both efficient and clean to execute.
That was why he never tried to join the cohort.
Part of him wanted distance from people. Another part was afraid to be near them. Recent events had shaken him deeply, forcing him to question himself. He was not the person he believed he was. Beneath the excuses and justifications, he saw something uglier.
A selfish man.
One who thought only of himself.
Rosacer sat in the darkness of Oblivion, silently observing the tired figures on the mountain’s slopes.
He had realized something important about Oblivion as well. It was not merely a place that allowed him to locate and wield Ananta more easily. It was a null space, a place where he could remain hidden if he wished.
Unlike Ananta, Oblivion existed within anta-space1. Because of that, maintaining his consciousness was easier. He did not risk losing himself there.
But it was not without cost.
There was a limit attached to it. Every minute he remained within Oblivion drained him. Fatigue accumulated relentlessly. Each passing minute felt like an hour of continuous running.
Rosacer’s body was saturated with lactic acid. His muscles ached as he sat within it for hours.
"Move, damn it!" Rosacer shouted.
The cohort ate lazily, stuffing themselves without urgency. Each passing second stretched thin, and with every moment they lingered, Rosacer’s impatience grew.
He considered teleporting immediately and climbing the remaining few meters himself. But he knew the cost. The moment he left Oblivion, exhaustion would crash down on him. In that state, taking even a short climb would be risky.
For now, he could not afford it.
And there was another concern.
There could be monsters nearby, Rosacer thought.
He remained in the darkness, watching, waiting for the moment when the risk would finally be worth taking.
After resting for nearly an hour, the cohort finally moved again. They packed their belongings slowly, reluctant but aware they could not delay any longer. Once everything was secured, the warrior took the lead, and the others followed close behind.
The mage and the remaining members fell in line after him, their earlier fatigue still clinging to their movements.
With careful, measured steps, they advanced along the narrowing path. Every foothold was tested before weight was placed upon it. Loose stones shifted beneath their boots, tumbling down the slopes and vanishing into the distance.
After nearly thirty minutes of steady climbing, they reached it.
Foxtail Herbs clung to the rocky ridges ahead, pale strands swaying gently in the mountain wind.
The warrior reacted at once. He climbed onto the slope and turned back, extending his hand to the mage.
Anata Space is a realm with an end, while Ananta exists within an endless stream of space.
