Chapter 786: Findir’s Mission (1)
Orion, noticing Findir’s discomfort, offered a reassuring smile. He stepped forward and pulled Findir into a warm, supportive hug. "Good luck out there. Remember, you’re not alone in this."
Findir’s cheeks flushed slightly at the close contact, and he gave a sheepish grin as he stepped back. "Thanks, Orion. I’ll make sure to get the job done."
With a final nod, Findir turned to leave. The leopard, ever loyal, leaped gracefully into Findir’s shadow, disappearing seamlessly into the darkness. Findir closed his eyes, focusing on the wind magic that would carry him away.
In a swift, fluid motion, Findir’s form began to blur and dissolve. The wind howled gently around him, and within moments, he had transformed into a gust of wind, his silhouette vanishing into the air. The leopard, now a shadowy presence, melded perfectly with Findir’s form as they both slipped away, disappearing into the night.
Orion watched as Findir and the leopard faded from sight, a mixture of admiration and concern in his gaze. The plan was in motion, and now, all they could do was wait and hope that their gambit would pay off.
...
Findir moved silently through the dimly lit corridors of the prison, his steps calm and deliberate despite the grim scenes that unfolded around him. The stench of damp stone and blood filled the air, a sickening reminder of the suffering that lingered within these walls. His eyes remained steady, but he couldn’t help but absorb the horrors of what had occurred within the stone confines of each cell.
In the first large cell, he glimpsed the broken bodies of several beastmen. Their once-proud forms were now frail, gaunt, and beaten down to mere shadows of their former selves. Some of them lay unmoving, their eyes wide open and lifeless, as if death had come slowly and cruelly. Others were still conscious, their hands trembling as they clutched at old wounds, shackled to the wall by rusted chains. One beastman, his fur matted with blood, whimpered as his body convulsed in pain, too weak to fight against the agony that wracked his form.
The next cell held dwarves, their beards caked with grime and their stout frames twisted in unnatural positions. The floor was littered with discarded tools—likely once used by the prisoners to carve at the walls in a desperate attempt to escape. But it had been futile. The trolls had caught them, and the punishment was brutal. One dwarf’s fingers were bent backward, broken and useless, while another sat against the wall, rocking back and forth with hollow eyes, muttering to himself in a language long forgotten.
Findir’s footsteps echoed in the cold, narrow hallway as he approached the next cell. This one was filled with elves—his own kin. Their ethereal beauty had been marred by bruises and scars, their bodies left to rot in the corner like discarded dolls. Some of the elves still clung to life, their breathing ragged as they huddled together for warmth, their faces gaunt and hollowed. One elven woman cradled the remains of what looked like a child, her face blank, eyes glazed over as though her spirit had already left this place. The trolls had spared no cruelty here; the marks of torture were evident in the bloodstains on the walls and the deep gashes on their bodies.
In another cell, a beastman had clearly been driven mad. He paced endlessly, his eyes wide with manic energy, his claws scraping at the stone walls until they bled. His growls and mumbles were incoherent, but the madness in his eyes spoke volumes. Every so often, he would lunge at the bars, snarling viciously, only to be pulled back by the heavy chains shackled to his ankles.
Everywhere Findir looked, there was despair. These were no longer prisoners—they were the remnants of broken beings, their spirits crushed beneath the weight of endless torment. The trolls had transformed this place into a nightmare, a living grave for those unfortunate enough to find themselves trapped here.
Despite the horrors, Findir remained calm. His expression remained unreadable as he walked, focused on the task ahead. He had seen pain before, and though this place was rife with suffering, he knew that his purpose was far greater than any nightmare he witnessed within these walls.
As Findir continued through the winding corridors of the prison, his steps eventually led him to a large, rusted door. With a creak, it opened to reveal a sprawling underground ravine, its vastness stretching far beyond anything he had anticipated. The ravine was carved into the heart of the mountain, and unlike the grim, suffocating atmosphere of the prison, this place was alive—vibrant, bustling, and strangely serene.
The first thing that struck him was the sheer scale of it all. The ravine’s walls were lined with multi-layered platforms, each filled with homes, shops, and living quarters stacked one atop the other, connected by wooden bridges and stone staircases. The architecture was rugged, carved directly into the rock, but there was an undeniable sense of community here. Trolls of all shapes and sizes moved about, their heavy footsteps echoing faintly through the cavern. Many of them were engaged in simple, everyday activities, so far removed from the savagery he had come to associate with their kind.
Findir’s gaze swept across the scene before him. To his left, a small group of children—troll children—played in the dusty streets, their laughter ringing out like any other child’s. They chased each other around, their oversized feet kicking up small clouds of dust as they shrieked in joy, completely oblivious to the darkness lurking just beyond their world.
Nearby, an elderly troll sat behind a small stand, selling what looked to be hand-carved wooden trinkets. His gnarled hands moved slowly as he polished one of the items, a satisfied smile on his weathered face. Across from him, a troll mother haggled playfully with another vendor, a massive sack slung over her shoulder as her two children clung to her arms, their wide, curious eyes darting around the market. The vendor, an older troll woman with graying hair, laughed heartily as she handed the mother a basket filled with food. It was an exchange of warmth, of community—something Findir had not expected to witness.
He continued to walk, weaving through the throng of trolls that bustled through the marketplace. They were smiling. They were happy. A deep sense of camaraderie filled the air. As he passed a butcher’s shop, he saw a troll father lifting his child onto his shoulders, the little one grinning from ear to ear as they waved to the butcher, who waved back with a friendly grin. It was... normal. Far too normal.
Findir’s heart twisted in turmoil as he moved deeper into the ravine. For every step he took, another fragment of doubt crept into his mind. Was this really right? He had come here with a mission, knowing that the trolls were his enemies—vicious, merciless creatures who had imprisoned him and his companions. But the trolls he saw now weren’t monsters. They were families, parents, children. People. Living simple, peaceful lives, unaware of the devastation that had occurred in the cells far above them.
He passed by a bakery, the scent of freshly baked bread wafting through the air as a troll couple sat outside, sharing a quiet meal together. Their hands touched briefly as they laughed, their voices soft and filled with affection.
Findir felt the weight of his mission press down on him harder than ever. He had a job to do, and that job was to instigate a war. A war that would lead to bloodshed and death. The peaceful life that unfolded before him was not meant to last, not with the chaos he was about to set in motion. Yet as he watched the trolls continue their lives, he couldn’t help but wonder: Were they truly deserving of the fate that awaited them?
But he quickly shook his head, snapping himself out of the spiral. No. He had to stay focused. This was for his people, for his comrades. The trolls had already caused unimaginable suffering in the prison—there was no room for second-guessing now. With a steely resolve, he pushed the lingering doubts aside and focused on the task at hand.
At last, Findir reached the end of the ravine, where a massive gaping hole opened into the outside world. The wind rushed through the opening, carrying with it a fresh, earthy scent that filled his lungs. As he stepped closer, the brightness of the outside world greeted him with a striking contrast to the dim, stone-cold prison he had left behind.
The sky above was a stunning expanse of azure blue, unmarred by a single cloud. The sun shone brilliantly, its golden rays spilling down in warm cascades, bathing the landscape in a radiant glow. Below him, the vast forest stretched endlessly, but it was no ordinary woodland. Each tree was a towering colossus, with trunks as thick as the grandest of skyscrapers, their bark rugged and ancient, adorned with spiraling vines and moss that clung to them like veins of life. The branches extended far and wide, reaching out like colossal arms, their leaves forming a dense canopy that shimmered in the sunlight.
From this vantage point, the forest looked like a city in its own right—an endless sea of green and gold, with beams of sunlight piercing through the canopy in scattered shafts, illuminating patches of the forest floor far below. Birds circled high above the trees, their calls echoing faintly in the distance, adding a touch of serenity to the awe-inspiring scene.
Gargantuan roots twisted and turned, weaving through the undergrowth like natural highways, while waterfalls in the distance cascaded from rock formations, their crystal-clear waters glistening like diamonds under the midday sun. The entire world beyond the mountain seemed alive with vibrant energy—majestic and untouched as if it belonged to a different realm altogether.
For a moment, Findir stood still, taking in the sheer beauty of the land before him. The warmth of the sun on his skin and the vast, sprawling wilderness ahead felt like a different universe from the dark prison he had just emerged from. Yet, despite its beauty, this forest held dangers of its own. With the task still heavy on his mind, he took a deep breath, readying himself for what lay ahead.
With one last glance at the awe-inspiring view, Findir melted into the wind, vanishing into the forest below as he began his journey to the orc camp, the leopard silently following in his shadow.
