Anomaly of Fate
Chapter 74: A Shadow in the Peaks

Chapter 74: A Shadow in the Peaks

A sinking feeling settled in Velren’s gut. That roar. That shadow. There was no doubt now—whatever was up there was the culprit of the damn avalanche.

"Fuck, that doesn’t sound good," he muttered under his breath.

Without wasting a second, he broke into a sprint. His legs burned with the lingering strain from earlier, but he pushed through, his focus was locked onto the rapidly moving carriage ahead. The sound of hooves pounding against the dirt, the creaking of the wheels, and Nico’s urgent shouts blended into the chaos of the moment.

He lunged, gripping the wooden frame of the carriage’s side, hoisting himself up with a swift motion before securing a hold. Still hanging onto the side, Velren tilted his head upward, narrowing his eyes as he scanned the skies.

And then—it came into view.

Perched atop a jagged peak overlooking the pass, a wyvern stood in ominous silence.

Its enormous, leathery wings were partially unfurled, their sheer size casting an even greater shadow across the mountainside. Its elongated, sinewy body was covered in dark, overlapping scales, each plate gleaming under the pale sunlight with a metallic sheen. A ridged spine ran from the base of its thick neck down to its powerful, coiled tail, ending in a wickedly curved barbed tip—a natural weapon designed to maim and kill.

But what sent a chill down Velren’s spine was its eyes.

Two burning, predatory orbs of molten gold, locked onto them with an almost unnatural level of intelligence. The wyvern wasn’t just watching—it was calculating. The avalanche hadn’t been a random act of nature. It had been a trap. And now, the predator was preparing to strike.

Nico’s breath hitched, his hands tightening around the reins.

"Kid—" His voice wavered, eyes darting toward the looming figure above.

"How much longer till we get out of this damn pass?!" Velren barked from the side, gripping onto the carriage as the wheels bounced violently against the uneven terrain.

"There is no ’out’!" Nico shot back, nearly breaking his voice.

"Caelestoria’s built on high ground! The mountain pass doesn’t end—it just leads further up!"

Velren swore under his breath. "Fuck..."

There was no escape. No winding path downward. No open plains to outrun it. The wyvern had chosen its hunting ground well.

And Velren understood exactly what that meant.

He had spent years hunting—tracking creatures through forests, setting traps, waiting for the right moment to strike. It had been his daily reality before the academy. The patience, the silence, the knowledge of how prey moved, how fear made them reckless.

And now, for the first time in his life, he was the one being hunted.

A sudden gust of wind howled through the mountain pass.

Velren barely had a second to react before a powerful force slammed into the air around them—a downdraft.

The wyvern moved.

With a sharp, ear-splitting screech, it pushed off from its perch, unfurling its massive wings with enough force to send loose rocks tumbling down the slopes. The sheer wind pressure alone made the carriage sway, the horses shrieking in panic as they fought to keep their footing.

Then, it struck.

A blur of talons and scaled muscle, the wyvern dove—jaws wide, fangs gleaming—aiming straight for them.

’Shit!’

But its attack fell just short.

Not because of hesitation. Not because of a miscalculation.

But because of the narrow terrain.

The mountain pass, with its jagged cliffs and uneven road, wasn’t meant for something of the wyvern’s size to maneuver freely. Its wings, though powerful, couldn’t fully extend between the cliffs, forcing the beast to pull up at the last moment to avoid a collision.

A frustrated snarl tore through the air as the wyvern veered sharply, its talons just missing the carriage roof, raking against the rock face instead—sending another cascade of debris crashing onto the path behind them. Fresh tremor rattled through the mountain pass as more debris tumbled down the jagged cliffs, but Velren barely spared it a glance. His focus had shifted.

His eyes darted across their surroundings—towering cliffs on either side, narrow winding paths, uneven terrain riddled with loose stones. The sharp turns and unstable footing were a curse for their carriage’s speed but a double-edged blade. If the wyvern couldn’t maneuver properly here, it meant they had a chance—however slim—to use the environment against it.

But he needed a plan. And fast.

His gaze snapped back to the carriage.

The cargo.

"Old man!" Velren called over the rushing wind, gripping the edge of the carriage as he pulled himself up.

"What kind of weapons are we delivering?"

Nico, still gripping the reins with white-knuckled intensity, threw him a quick, bewildered glance.

"Now’s really not the time—"

"Just tell me!"

With a gritted curse, Nico rattled off the inventory.

"Blades, halberds, ballista bolts—damn things weigh a ton—some reinforced plating, a few dozen steel-tipped javelins, and—"

His voice caught for a split second.

"...explosives."

Velren’s eyes widened.

’Explosives...’

Wyverns weren’t like dragons. They couldn’t breathe fire, ice, or lightning. They relied purely on physical prowess—their talons, their fangs, and their speed. Which meant that if this wyvern had chosen to hunt them here, it was confident in its ability to kill them through brute force alone.

That meant one thing.

It wouldn’t give up.

It would attack again. And this time, it would go all in.

A fresh shriek split the air above, sending a shiver down his spine.

’No time...’

Before Nico could protest, Velren vaulted onto the back of the carriage, landing with a solid thud.

’Sorry about this, Harven...’ His katana flashed, slicing clean through the iron lock securing the cargo hold. With a swift pull, he flung the doors open.

Inside, neatly arranged rows of weapon crates lined the interior. Polished blades gleamed under the fading sunlight, heavy bolts stacked alongside reinforced metal plating meant for siege weaponry. But amidst the organized stacks, several barrel-shaped containers sat tightly secured, thick ropes binding them in place.

Marked with warning sigils.

Black powder explosives.