Enough with This Slow Life! I Was Reincarnated as a High Elf and Now I’m Bored: Volume 6 [Parts 1 to 4] by rarutori

Author:rarutori
Language: eng
Format: epub

Chapter 2 — The Road Forward

As I traveled west, avoiding all human settlements, I eventually found a range of impressive mountains blocking my progress. In the same way the Great Pulha Woodlands divided the East and the West, and the Man-Eating Swamp divided the east-central region from the Far East, there was a similarly dangerous territory separating the west-central region from the Far West.

The obstacle this time was known as the Mountains of Mist, the passes winding between them known as the Valleys of Death. While the outer regions of the Mountains of Mist were no different than any other steep mountain range, once you pushed past the outer reaches, you’d find yourself enveloped in a thick fog that threatened to confuse your sense of direction. To top it all off, the fog was apparently the work of magic, being heavy with mana. The rich natural mana of the area had coincidentally reproduced something akin to a spell of concealment, creating the dense fog the area was known for.

Even for the most experienced of mountaineers, a trip through the Mountains of Mist typically ended while lost in the fog, either wandering in circles until dying from exhaustion or taking a sudden plunge off an unexpected cliff. Then again, any experienced mountaineer would know better than to try traversing a mountain locked in perpetual fog, so that’s really just a hypothetical.

As for the Valleys of Death, they formed natural paths between the mountains. The mountains served as walls, while their fog blocked out the sky, creating what had also come to be called the Labyrinth of Death. As their nickname suggested, the path through the Valleys of Death was anything but straight. The valleys twisted, turned, branched, and converged, with plenty of dead ends to befuddle travelers.

And of course, being a dangerous region, it was chock full of monsters. In particular, there were predatory birds that had taken to the mystical fog filling the sky, swooping down on unsuspecting passers-by without warning. They were all but angels of death to those reckless enough to brave the valleys.

One theory was that long, long ago, a tribe of demons took to the region, creating the Mountains of Mist and the Valleys of Death as a layer of protection for themselves. These were obviously just rumors, but it seemed plausible. Though exceptionally rare, there were cases of natural formations coincidentally forming the rituals needed to create magic, but for something on such a large scale that had persisted for so long, the idea that it had been caused accidentally strained the imagination. Long years and constant weather would reshape the mountains over time. If this fog had really been around for so long, there needed to be some function designed to maintain it, some clear intent that had put it in place, for it to make sense.

Though really, whether it was a natural phenomenon or a spell cast long ago, it didn’t change much for me. Though I couldn’t help but be curious as

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