The Regression Of A Grand Mercenary - 58 - Final Week Test - Part 2

The next day came swift and silent.

Even before the sun had fully risen, the camp was already stirring. Pale light filtered through the branches, casting long shadows across the forest floor. The frost hadn’t yet melted, and the cold nipped at everyone’s skin — but no one complained. They were focused.

Groups were already forming in quiet lines, following the formations Mario and Astin had planned the night before. Orders were repeated in hushed voices, and packs were checked one final time.

No clanking armor. No heavy bags. No unnecessary tools. Only the essentials.

Each trainee wore muted, light-coloured clothing suited for movement — thick enough to keep out the chill, but thin enough not to rustle when they ran or crouched in the underbrush. Their cloaks were short and snug, tied tight against the wind. Swords hung from their belts, along with a single shield, flareguns, a small scroll for mapping, and a thin rope for emergencies.

Camping gear had been reduced to the barest minimum: a foldable cloth mat, a small tinderbox, dried jerky and water wrapped in cloth, and a first aid kit in case of emergencies. Every item was chosen for weight and silence.

Mario stood by a fallen log, checking a hand-drawn map marked with red circles and inked lines. Around him were his four group leaders, their faces tense but determined.

“We’re heading east,” he said, tapping the parchment. “Each squad takes a route that spirals out from here. Keep to the left of the landmarks we memorized — the ridge, the old pine with three trunks, the dry creek bed.”

He looked up at them one by one. “If you see anything strange — footprints, bones, scratched trees — mark it down and turn back. Do not engage. If you smell something off, or hear something unnatural, pull back. And above all…”

He paused.

“If one of you fires the flare, the groups who have seen it at a close distance will pull back immediately. By firing the flare, it could only mean that danger is close by…so do not, I repeat…DO NOT take this chance to save those who are in danger. Only the Captain will act to save those who have fired the flare.”

A few of the scouts nodded grimly.

Meanwhile, on the opposite side of the camp, Astin gave similar orders.

“The western forest has a lot of blind spots,” he reminded his team. “Thick brush, steep rocks, and the river’s fog. Don’t get overconfident. Stay low, move slow, and mark your way back with the red thread we prepared.”

He handed out spools of thin thread dyed crimson, meant to be tied to branches every fifty meters.

“You’ll cut it on the way back. No trail left behind.”

The entire company was focused. There was a tension in the air that none of them had felt during training inside the safety of the barracks.

This wasn’t a drill anymore.

As the sun finally rose and cast its soft glow across the frost-covered ground, Thill stood between the two groups one last time. His arms were folded, his expression stern but not unkind.

“Remember your training. In this test, all I want you to figure out is the body of the forest, get acquainted with the definition of surviving. List out anything that is worth taking note of…not only the landmarks, but the potential enemies you might encounter. Once you have done enough, return to the camp before sundown.”

“This forest is your first real opponent. It doesn’t care if you’re tired, scared, or lost. So don’t give it a reason to beat you. I want all of you to come back home to your mother’s arms…so take caution.”

With a single nod, he gave the order.

“Go.”

And like shadows, the squads began to vanish into the trees — feet soft on the snow, bodies low, and minds sharp.

The forest swallowed them.

Their first day of scouting had begun.

***

The forest was still, the air sharp with winter chill.

Mario led his group through the eastern stretch of the woods. Their steps were quiet, boots brushing against frost-hardened soil and dry leaves. Even in the silence, every crackle of a twig or rustle of a branch felt louder than it should.

It had only been two kilometers, but the atmosphere had already shifted.

Unlike the structured noise of training grounds or the safety of camp, the woods here were vast and indifferent. Cold light filtered through the canopy, and the breath of the wind seemed to carry something ancient and watchful.

“We’re on schedule,” Mario said quietly, kneeling by a low stone where they marked their progress. “Mark this as point two. Keep moving slow and steady.”

Relin, a sharp-eyed 17 year old boy known in the village as the grandchild of the village elder. He tied a red ribbon to a branch overhead. It was his role to place landmarks that would seem memorable for the path that they were marching on.

Garon, a quiet and reliable lad with a bow slung across his back, made a charcoal sketch of the surroundings in a worn notebook. He was a 24 year old man who has leaved his life hunting deer for the village. Out of everyone who joined the company, he was one of the oldest trainees.

Dellen and Bannis kept watch at the rear. The two of them were cousins, and both were forced to join the company since their family was already full of farmers…it was decided in their place that having to divert to a different and somewhat reliant job would be good for the family.

“The forest is quiet…too quiet.” Dellen whispered, glancing around.

“It’s winter,” Garon replied, voice calm. “Most of the small things are either asleep or dead.” speaking from experience as a hunter.

“Not all of them,” Mario added. “And the ones that aren’t… those are the ones we watch for.”

They moved again, forming a loose line as they followed a shallow trail deeper into the woods. It was Mario’s route — an arc that would loop back toward camp within a five-kilometer sweep. They had to map terrain, spot any monsters, and avoid conflict at all costs.

Thill’s orders were clear: no heroics, no fights, and never leave the marked radius. If something dangerous appeared, fire the flare and run.

At 2.3 kilometers in, Relin froze mid-step and raised a hand.

Mario halted the group and crept forward. That’s when he saw it — prints in the snow. Four-toed. Deep, heavy. Spaced far apart.

Not wolf. Not bear.

“…Troll?” Bannis asked, frowning. “Or something worse?”

“Maybe a prowler,” Mario muttered. “Either way, it’s close. This trail’s fresh.”

Dellen paled slightly. “We’re not fighting that, right?”

“No. We’re scouts, not slayers,” Mario reminded him. “We mark, we avoid. That’s it.”

Dellen quickly etched a warning symbol on a nearby tree — three long slashes with a small X underneath, just like Thill had taught them: unknown creature nearby — avoid this path.

Despite the unease, no one turned back.

This was what they were trained for.

And Mario, tightening his grip on his blade, felt more focused than ever. He wasn’t the weak boy from before. Not anymore.

“Let’s move,” he said firmly.

And so they went — five boys marching into the silent trees, cold air biting at their faces, determination burning quietly in their hearts.

When midday came, Mario and the group finally rested. They didn’t have to set up a tent….only the fire for warmth.

Having set up a small fire, they sat in silence.

“.…”

But soon, some came to speak.

“…This wasn’t what I imagined when I joined the Captain’s company.” said Bannis.

“What do you mean?” said Relin Curiously.

“I mean, sure I knew that we were going to train as guards for the village…but did it have to include us spending our time out here in the forest?” he asked extensively.

Garon gave a low chuckle as he sat on a flat stone near the fire, warming his hands. “You thought it was just gonna be drills and sword swings in the yard, huh?”

“I mean… yeah?” Bannis muttered, tugging his cloak tighter around his shoulders. “This right here feels more like what adventurers do, not village guards.”

“You’re not entirely wrong,” Mario said, finally breaking his silence. He sat cross-legged, his eyes on the dancing flames. “But if you think about it, this village isn’t normal anymore. Not with everything that’s happened.”

Relin nodded from where he sat a few paces away, watching the treeline. “Bandits are typically normal to come by, but what’s really a threat was the dragon. I’ve seen it with my own eyes…that thing should have been the end for our village, but…Captain came out of nowhere and battled with the dragon like he was a hero…it was amazing.”

“We’ve already had more trouble here than most cities get in a year.” Said Mario.

He then picked up a stick and prodded the fire thoughtfully. “Captain Thill is not training us just to be guards standing around with spears. He’s training us to be a wall. One that can’t be shaken by monsters or men.”

Dellen looked around, the cold making his breath fog in the air. “You think that’s why he’s pushing us this hard?”

“I know that’s why,” Mario answered, steady and sure. “He doesn’t want another raid to happen. Another mother dragged off in the night. He’s making sure we’re ready before it happens again. He isn’t always going to be there to protect the village…”

The others went quiet at that.

“…Damn,” Bannis said softly. “When you say it like that, it makes this whole freezing-our-butts-off thing seem a little more important.”

“Everything we’re doing out here,” Garon added, “it’s part of something bigger. That’s why I’m sticking through it. Even if my toes feel like they’re gonna fall off.”

A faint smile tugged at Mario’s lips. “Good. Because we’re not done yet. Once we finish our sweep and head back, we still have to map our path and write our report for the Captain.”

Bannis groaned. “Ugh, homework in the forest.”

“Deal with it,” Relin muttered. “And pass me that log — fire’s dying.”

As the fire cracked and flared again, they sat huddled close, their laughter slowly rising between them — light, brief, but warm. They had a long road ahead, but for now, in the cold silence of the forest, they had each other.

Not soon later, it began to snow.

“W-what the…shit. It looks like it’s starting to snow.” said Mario.

“What do we do?” they asked.

“…I think it’s still fine. The snow isn’t that heavy…okay, we should go on ahead until we reach the  stopping point.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes…based on the things we saw on the way here, we have yet to meet anything that would be …a real threat,” Mario continued, tightening his cloak around him as the first flakes dusted his shoulders. “We’re still within the scouting zone, and there’s no sign of unusual activity other than the tracks we came up a little while back. But those tracks were already a few kilometers back…if we keep on going until we reach the end, I’m sure we can find more information worth showing to the captain.”

The rest of the group exchanged glances, hesitant but trusting his judgment. Bannis huffed into his hands, trying to warm his fingers. Dellen adjusted the straps on his light pack, while Garon squinted through the falling snow, scanning the trees ahead. Relin simply nodded, ever quiet and steady.

“All right,” said Dellen. “Let’s move while the trail’s still visible.”

The group pushed forward. The snow crunched softly beneath their boots, the sound strangely calming despite the growing cold. Trees towered on either side of them, their branches weighed down by the frost. The forest had grown quieter with the snowfall — no birdcalls, no rustling, just the occasional gust of wind shaking loose more powder from above.

They moved with care, conscious of the footprints they left behind, and avoided brushing up against the trees too much — another lesson drilled into them by Thill. Even the sound of broken branches could echo too far in this stillness.

As they walked, Mario glanced back now and then, making sure no one was falling behind.

“We keep steady. Just a few more kilometers to the marker,” he said. “Then we circle back and report to Captain.”

The snowfall thickened, but not enough to turn them back — not yet. They still had ground to cover, and Mario wasn’t about to let the cold shake them. Not when they’d come this far.

Finally, through the curtain of falling snow and bare branches, a glint of red stood out against the white.

“There,” Mario said, pointing ahead. “The flag.”

The others squinted through the snow, and sure enough — halfway buried in frost, fluttering gently in the breeze, the cloth marker waved at them from the base of a crooked tree.

“That’s one of the boundary flags Captain mentioned,” Garon said, a breath of relief escaping him.

Bannis chuckled lightly, the sound muffled by his scarf. “Thought we’d be eaten alive or something by now.”

Mario gave a small smile, but his eyes were still scanning the tree line. “We’re lucky. So far, nothing. No monster tracks, no nests, no signs of habitation. Almost too quiet.”

Relin knelt beside the flag, brushing snow away from its base. “That makes this our turn-back point.”

“Let’s make note of this spot,” Garon said, taking out a small charcoal pencil and scratching coordinates into his worn journal. “Nothing unusual. Snow’s picking up though… we shouldn’t linger.”

Mario took one final look around the quiet, white-coated forest. There was a strange stillness here, but nothing out of place — no scent of blood, no broken trees, no guttural growls in the distance.

“Alright,” he said, voice firm. “We’ve done our part. Let’s head back.”

With the flag behind them and their tracks barely visible beneath the new layer of snow, the five turned and made their way home — colder, maybe, but safe… and just a little more confident than when they’d first stepped into the woods.

But just as they turned their backs to begin the trek home, a thunderous bang cracked through the forest air like a gunshot—sharp, violent, and completely unnatural against the quiet hush of snowfall.

Everyone froze.

The birds that had been nesting in the nearby trees scattered in a flurry of wings, and even the snow seemed to still in the wake of that sound.

“W-What was that?!” Relin’s voice cracked as he turned in the direction of the noise, heart hammering.

“A flaregun?” Dellen asked, eyes widening.

“No…” Mario’s face had gone pale, his breath visible in the cold as he turned his head toward the western forest. “That was an explosion. It didn’t sound like a flare at all.”

“You don’t think one of the other teams—?” Garon started, but didn’t finish. His hand was already reaching for the short sword at his waist.

Mario quickly dropped to a crouch, his voice low and focused. “Everyone down. No noise.”

They followed without hesitation, crouching beneath the low branches of a pine tree, eyes locked in the direction the sound had come from. The forest, moments ago calm and uneventful, now felt like a loaded trap. Every creak of a branch or rustle of snow seemed a threat.

Then came another sound—not an explosion this time, but a deep, guttural roar. Distant but powerful. And chillingly close.

“…That wasn’t a bear.” Garon whispered out of his knowledge as a hunter.

“No,” Mario muttered grimly. “That was something bigger.”

The five exchanged uneasy glances, their previous relief completely erased.

“…Do we send the flare?” Dellen asked quietly, his hand already on it.

Mario hesitated, staring into the forest that now felt like it was breathing — watching. Waiting.

“Not yet,” he finally said. “I think we can leave this place without alerting whatever it is that’s making that sound.”

“-But!”

“If we do use the flare, it’ll only attract its attention our way. We need to be careful”

The wind picked up, blowing flurries of snow across the forest floor, and in the distance, that same bone-deep roar echoed again — louder this time. Closer.

Every breath turned shallow. Every heartbeat, louder.

The quiet scouting mission… was no longer quiet.

As they waited, crouched low beneath snow-dusted branches, the forest seemed to hold its breath with them. Then—

THUD.

A heavy, earth-shaking impact echoed from the same direction as the explosion. Snow slid from nearby trees in soft plumes. The ground beneath them trembled ever so slightly, just enough for everyone to feel it in their boots.

“…That wasn’t just footsteps,” Garon whispered, his voice barely audible.

“No,” Mario muttered, eyes narrowing. “That was something…heavy.”

Slowly, all five of them leaned out from their cover, peering through the trees toward the source of the sound. The snowfall had thinned, visibility slightly improving—just enough for them to see it.

Far off in the distance, at the edge of a ridge blanketed in white and framed by skeletal trees, something moved.

And then… they saw it.

A massive figure, at least four meters tall, covered in pale-gray, moss-like fur that blended almost seamlessly into the wintry forest around it. Its arms were long, the fingers thick and clawed, dragging lightly along the snow. A row of sharp, bony spines ran down its hunched back, and with every breath, steam poured from its nostrils like smoke from a forge.

It was monstrous.

And worse… it wasn’t alone.

Behind it, faint shadows emerged—smaller, but still large. Four-legged beasts with thick limbs and low-hanging heads, following their towering leader in silence. Each of those four-legged beast were the size of a horse…

Mario’s heart nearly stopped. His throat went dry.

“…What the hell is that?” Bannis breathed in horror.

“Captain said not to engage…” Dellen murmured, his hand trembling as he reached for the emergency flaregun. Out of fear, Dellen was motivated to quickly rely on thee flare…but Mario noticed and quickly stopped Dellen.

“No, we can do this…we can leave without being spotted.” he said.

Slowly, he took the lead and started backing away from where those monsters were standing.

And slowly, Mario was eagerly hoping that those monsters wouldn’t look there way.

Each step Mario took backward was deliberate — slow, measured, silent. The snow crunched faintly beneath his boots, but not enough to draw attention. The others followed his lead, crouched low, breath held, eyes flicking constantly between the towering monster ahead and the path behind.

The massive creature stopped.

Its head turned slightly.

Steam hissed from its nostrils once more — a slow exhale like a dragon deciding whether to attack or ignore.

Mario froze.

His hand instinctively reached to the side, motioning for the others to do the same. All five of them sank lower into the snow, behind the trees and underbrush, barely breathing.

The four-legged beasts prowled forward, their gait slow and heavy, padding through the snow without sound. They didn’t seem to notice the group yet… but it felt like that could change at any moment.

Mario glanced back to Dellen — the boy was shaking, sweat clinging to his brow despite the cold.

Then, Bannis slipped slightly. A small crunch echoed out. Not loud… but in the stillness of the forest, even a whisper felt like a scream.

The monster’s head snapped in their direction.

Its eyes — yellow and deep-set — locked onto their location.

Shit.

Mario’s heart plummeted. No more sneaking away. No more hoping.

The lead monster let out a low, guttural snarl that shook the trees. The beasts behind it perked up like hounds catching a scent. One of them began bounding forward on all fours, leaving long, heavy prints in the snow.

“Run,” Mario said, barely above a whisper. “Run!”

He didn’t have to say it twice.

They turned and bolted.

The trees blurred past as they dashed through the snow, ducking under branches and leaping over roots. They no longer cared about silence — only speed. Behind them, the monstrous roar echoed through the forest like a war cry.

They could hear it — the thundering footfalls behind them, growing louder.

They had no time to think. No time to plan.

Just run… and hope someone would come.

Thinking of nothing else, Mario decided to lean into the flaregun. “Light it.”

No hesitation now.

Dellen pulled the flaregun free and fired.

PHSSSHH!!

A red streak lit the gray sky, arcing high above the trees before exploding into a vivid, glowing flame.

And just like that, the monster’s glowing, pale-yellow eyes locked onto them—shimmering through the forest like lanterns in the dark.

“…Keep running!” said Mario. But as he ran, he started to pull out his sword as well as the only shield they had at hand.

Then he shouted, “RUN!!”

They ran.

The moment the beast let out a low, guttural growl that trembled the snow beneath their boots, Mario gave the order.

“Run—! Tree to tree! Keep low and move fast!”

Their training kicked in. It wasn’t just reckless sprinting — they weaved, zigzagging through the dense forest, each man using the terrain to his advantage. Snow crunched underfoot, light flakes stinging their faces as they ducked beneath low branches and slid behind trunks.

Bannis was the first to leap into action, diving behind a pine and glancing back only briefly. “It’s moving!”

Dellen stumbled, but Garon caught his arm and yanked him forward without breaking pace. “Don’t look back—just move!”

Behind them, a deep thud… thud… thud echoed with each monstrous step. The Frostbound Colossus, the largest of those monsters — or whatever it was — was charging, the pack beasts flanking it, darting between trees with horrifying speed. They weren’t blindly chasing…they were hunting.

“Mario!” Relin called out, breath ragged. “We need to split!”

“No!” Mario shouted, swerving around a narrow tree and skidding behind a moss-covered boulder. “If we split now, they’ll pick us off!”

He was right. As large as the forest was, being alone in it was a death sentence.

The group pressed forward, now following a familiar slope they had passed earlier. The markers Thill had placed were still visible — they were still within the 10-kilometer boundary. If they could just get back to the midpoint—

“Ribon!” Dellen gasped, pointing. “We’re close to one of the landmarks we left!”

But before they could reach it, a shrill screech from one of the pack beasts echoed through the trees — and something barreled straight at them from the left. Mario was the first to take notice of this monster…and carrying the shield, it was his role to act as guard.

So in his bravery, he met the monster head on.

*THUD!*

The last thing he saw…bits of his shield was seen flying all over the place…and then, he saw the clouds above.

‘Ah…fuck…it hurts…’ and then, fade to black.

***

Everything was white.

The world had fallen silent.

Mario’s eyes snapped open, and all he could feel was cold — bone-deep, paralyzing cold. Half of his body was buried in snow, the weight pressing down on him like a second skin. His breath came out in short, ragged gasps, fogging the frozen air in front of him.

He pushed up with trembling arms, the snow parting just enough for him to lift his head. His body ached all over, his ears ringing from the force of whatever explosion or impact had knocked them unconscious.

“…Garon…? Dellen…?” he whispered hoarsely.

No answer.

He turned his head and saw them — Bannis was slumped against the trunk of a tree, blood trickling down from his forehead. Dellen and Relin were sprawled beside one another, unmoving but breathing.

And then, the sound of sniffing.

A wet, heavy inhale — like a starving animal catching scent of fresh meat.

Mario’s heart dropped.

He slowly looked up…

And saw them.

Looming just meters away, standing amidst the scattered snow and broken branches, were the monsters. At least three of them. Their forms were vaguely humanoid, but that was where the similarity ended. Their bodies were pale and stretched, as if their skin was too thin for the muscle underneath. Their eyes were lidless — large, wet, and yellow. Their mouths were too wide, teeth long and needle-like, tongues flicking out like serpents tasting the air.

One of them leaned closer, head cocked to the side as it regarded Mario like an animal watching prey stir for the first time.

The creature’s chest pulsed unnaturally, like a heartbeat gone mad.

Mario froze. His mind screamed to run, to crawl, to do something — but his limbs felt like lead. Only his breath moved, shaky and thin.

The largest of the creatures leaned forward, drool dripping from its open maw.

And then it smiled.

A low gurgle escaped its throat — a sound that chilled Mario far worse than the snow ever could.

Mario’s breath hitched as the creatures began moving. The leader, a towering beast unlike the rest, stepped forward with a bone-cracking creak in its limbs. It was wrapped in frozen sinew and frost-encrusted armor — thick slabs of glacial growth clung to its hide like plate mail. Its breath misted in the air like steam from a furnace, eyes glowing a dim blue beneath a crown of jagged ice.

The Frostbound Colossus.

It spoke in a tongue that was neither beastly nor human — a guttural series of growls, throat clicks, and sharp hissing consonants. But the intent was clear.

The others responded. The Thornhide Maulers — smaller, but no less terrifying — began to move with disturbing efficiency. One of them stepped toward Dellen’s unconscious body, its long claws extended.

“They’re taking us…” Mario whispered in horror, heart pounding as he saw his friends about to be lifted like sacks of meat. They’re planning to eat us… one by one…

The Maulers snarled in unison as they prepared to carry the boys away, following their leader’s command with deadly precision.

And then—

A voice rang out, calm but firm. It cut through the snowfall like a blade through cloth.

“Take one more step… and I’ll make sure none of you walk away.”

The monsters stopped.

The Frostbound Colossus slowly turned its massive head toward the voice — and there, stepping from the shadows of the frost-covered trees, stood a lone figure.

Thill.

His cloak billowed behind him as the wind picked up. Snow crunched beneath his boots with deliberate force. In his right hand, he held a sword — no, a slab of metal — forged from a shimmering alloy that pulsed faintly with blue light. It was as tall as he was, thick, broad, and etched with old runes that hissed with heat despite the cold.

Thill’s face was calm. His eyes were cold.

“I told them to fire the flare if they were in danger,” he said, his voice low, but filled with restrained fury. “Seems like I didn’t come fast enough.”

The Maulers backed away instinctively, sensing the difference. The Colossus stepped forward, its jagged maw widening in challenge.

“Mario,” Thill said, never looking away from the monsters, “can you stand?”

Mario nodded weakly, pushing himself up on shaking arms.

“Good,” Thill said, lifting his massive blade and resting it on his shoulder. “Then keep watching. What I’m about to teach you… is what it means to protect something with your life.”

He stepped forward, the steel of his greatsword humming with power.

The battle was about to begin.