The Extra is a Hero?-Chapter 285: THE SCOUTING PARTY
Chapter 280: The Scouting Party
The wind didn’t just bite; it chewed.
Stepping off the Iron-Horse was like stepping onto the surface of a dead planet. The moment my boots crunched into the knee-deep snow, the wind stripped the heat from my body in seconds, laughing at the layers of thermal insulation I wore.
I turned back to the maintenance hatch. The wheel was already freezing over, white crystals blooming on the iron. I spun it shut, hearing the clunk-hiss of the hydraulic seal engaging.
We were locked out.
Inside that metal tube were ten terrified students and two dying girls. Outside, there was nothing but the howling void of the Zone of Silence.
"Move," I shouted over the gale, my voice snatched away almost instantly. "Keep moving, or your blood will turn to slush."
Leon nodded. He looked like a juggernaut of steel and leather. The [Breaker’s Hammer]—an eighty-five-kilogram block of ugly, unrefined iron—rested on his shoulder. Without mana reinforcement, carrying that weapon was a feat of strength that bordered on the absurd. His boots sank deeper into the snow than mine, leaving craters in his wake, but he didn’t complain.
To my left, Ren was already gone.
Or rather, he was there, but he had ceased to exist in the visual spectrum of importance. He had wrapped a white linen sheet over his gray combat suit—a primitive, non-magical camouflage. He moved with a sliding gait, distributing his weight so he barely disturbed the snow crust.
"Formation," I signaled with a hand gesture.
Ren took point, fading into the blizzard ten meters ahead. I took the center, the navigator. Leon took the rear, the anchor.
We began to walk.
The visibility was less than five meters. The world was a swirling chaos of gray and white. There was no sky, no horizon, no ground—just the endless, suffocating particulate matter of the storm.
I tapped my shoulder. "Wake up, lizard."
The tattoo on my neck burned slightly. A moment later, a puff of violet smoke materialized, instantly whipped away by the wind. From the smoke, a small, disgruntled head poked out.
Nox.
My Wyrmling hissed, burrowing immediately into the fur collar of my coat.
Master... cold. Too cold. The mana... it is empty here.
"I know," I muttered, shielding my face with my gloved hands. "I need your nose, Nox. Not for mana. For life."
Nox was a biological creature, not a spirit summon. He existed physically, which meant the Zone of Silence couldn’t unsummon him, though it severely stunted his growth and magical breath. But he was still an Abyssal Dragon. His senses operated on a spectrum that biology couldn’t explain.
Smell... fear, Nox projected into my mind, his mental voice shivering. Smell... hunger.
"Direction?"
Everywhere.
I stopped. I held up a fist. Leon halted instantly, the heavy hammer thudding softly into the snow. Ren froze mid-step ahead of us, blending perfectly into a drift.
"Don’t react," I whispered, though the wind probably carried my scent better than my voice.
To our right, barely visible through the curtain of snow, a shape moved.
It was massive, loping along on four legs with a disjointed, rhythmic grace. A Snow Stalker. It was patrolling the perimeter of the train crash site.
It paused. Its eyeless, shovel-shaped head swung in our direction. The nostrils flared.
My hand hovered over the hilt of my sword. Leon shifted his grip on the hammer.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
My internal clock counted the seconds. If we ran, the vibration would trigger its predatory drive. If we attacked, its howl would bring the pack.
We had to be stones. We had to be ice.
The Stalker snorted, a blast of steam erupting from its snout. It lingered for a terrifying second, its radar-ears swiveling. Then, deciding that we were just static in the storm, it turned and loped away into the darkness.
I let out a breath that froze in my scarf.
"Forward," I signaled.
We pushed on.
One mile.
That was how far we had traveled in an hour. The snow was thigh-deep in places, a physical barrier that demanded a toll in calories for every step.
My legs burned. My lungs felt like I was inhaling glass shards.
"Michael," Leon’s voice came from behind. He sounded winded. Carrying nearly two hundred pounds of iron in this terrain was taking its toll even on his A-rank physique. "Are you sure about the coordinates?"
"Trust the math," I wheezed, checking my compass. The needle was spinning wildly—magnetic interference from the Dead Zone—but I was navigating by landmarks I had memorized from the map. A jagged rock formation here. A frozen stream there.
"Why the hammer?" Leon asked, shifting the weight to his other shoulder. "I have my fists. I have the dagger."
"Because of what’s guarding the roots," I said, not slowing down. "The Stalkers are soft targets. Flesh and bone. But the Root System? It has guardians made of petrified wood and stone. You can’t stab them, Leon. You have to smash them."
"Smash them," Leon repeated. "Right. Simple."
"Nothing is simple," I muttered.
"Movement," Ren’s voice drifted back to us. It wasn’t a shout. It was a projection, a technique of throwing one’s voice using the wind.
I stopped. Ren had materialized out of the white haze, standing next to me.
"Three targets," Ren said flatly. "Directly ahead. blocking the ravine pass."
"Stalkers?"
"No," Ren said. his eyes narrowing. "Humanoid. But... wrong."
I crept forward, motioning for Leon to stay low. We crested a small ridge of ice and looked down into the depression that formed the entrance to the ravine.
Ren was right.
There were three figures standing in the storm. They were shaped like men, clad in ragged, frozen armor that looked like it hailed from a century ago. They held rusted axes and spears.
But they weren’t moving. They stood perfectly still, like statues.
[System Eye (Passive Scan)]
[Target: Frost-Thrall]
[Level: 35]
[Status: Dormant / Hostile]
[Description: The corpses of adventurers who died in the Zone of Silence, reanimated by the parasitic ice spores of the Northern Wilderness.]
"Zombies?" Leon whispered, disgusted.
"Thralls," I corrected. "They don’t feel pain. They don’t stop until you destroy the brain or shatter the spine."
"We can go around," Ren suggested. "Climb the ridge."
"No time," I said, looking at my watch. "Climbing adds two hours. We go through."
I looked at Leon. "You wanted to know why you brought the hammer?"
Leon looked at the frozen corpses blocking our path. He looked at the heavy block of iron in his hands. He smiled, a grim, humorless expression.
"I think I get it."
"Ren, take the left. I take the right. Leon, you go up the middle. Make noise."
Leon stood up. He didn’t bother sneaking. He walked down the slope, the heavy boots crunching loudly.
The three Thralls snapped to life instantly. Their heads jerked up. Their eyes were glowing blue orbs of cold light. They let out a dry, rattling hiss and charged.
They were fast, fueled by the unnatural magic of the spores.
Leon didn’t flinch. He planted his feet, twisting his hips. The Breaker’s Hammer swung in a low, flat arc.
"Hah!"
CRACK.
The sound was like a cannon shot.
The hammer connected with the lead Thrall’s chest. There was no resistance. The rusted armor shattered like glass. The ribcage disintegrated. The corpse was launched backward with such force that it took the head off the second Thrall standing behind it.
Passive Effect: Impact Echo.
The force traveled through the first target and exploded into the second.
Two kills, one swing.
The third Thrall lunged at Leon’s exposed side, its rusted axe raised.
Shhhk.
A silver blur intercepted it. Ren appeared from the snow, sliding on his knees. He hamstrung the Thrall with a precise cut to the back of the knee, bringing it down.
Before the Thrall could hit the ground, I was there. My steel sword thrust downward, entering the base of the skull and scrambling the spore-infested brain.
The Thrall collapsed.
Five seconds. Three kills.
Leon lowered the hammer, breathing heavy plumes of steam. He looked at the weapon with new respect.
"Okay," Leon said. "I really like the hammer."
"Don’t get cocky," I said, wiping my blade. "Those were the grunts. The welcoming committee."
I looked ahead. The ravine opened up into a darker, denser darkness. The treeline.
We had reached the edge of the Iron Wilderness proper.
"The Weeping Willow is five miles in," I said. "From here on, no talking. The trees listen."
We moved into the ravine, leaving the shattered corpses to be buried by the snow.
Two Miles West - High Ridge
The blizzard was just as thick on the ridge overlooking the train tracks, but the figure standing there didn’t seem to mind.
He wore a suit of white, articulated armor that hummed with a low, throbbing frequency. It wasn’t standard magi-tech. It was biological armor, grown from the carapace of demons.
He held a long, rifle-like device. It had no barrel for bullets. Instead, it had a complex array of lenses made from red crystal.
He lowered the device.
"Target acquired," he spoke into the comms unit built into his helmet. His voice was distorted, metallic.
"Confirm identity," a voice crackled back.
"Positive match," the sniper said. "Subject: Michael. Subject: Leon. And two unknowns. They have left the vessel."
"Leaving the vessel? In the Silence?" The voice on the other end sounded amused. "Fascinating. Where are they going?"
"Heading East. Toward the Root System."
There was a pause on the line.
"The Roots? Only a fool or a desperate man goes there. Or... someone who knows what is buried there."
The sniper adjusted his scope. The thermal vision cut through the blizzard, showing three heat signatures moving away, fading into the deep blue of the cold.
"Orders?"
"Let them go," the voice commanded. "If the forest kills them, it saves us the trouble. If they survive... well, then they will lead us right to the prize. We have been looking for the entrance to the Deep Roots for months."
The sniper lowered the weapon.
"Understood. Shadow Team moving to intercept position. We will wait for them to exit." 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝓮𝒘𝙚𝙗𝒏𝙤𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝒐𝙢
"Good hunting, Acolyte. For the glory."
"For the glory."
The sniper turned. Behind him, five other figures in white demon-armor rose from the snow, their red eyes glowing in the dark.
They didn’t make a sound. They didn’t leave footprints.
They simply waited.
