Journey to Become the Zenith-Chapter 69: The Village Without Breath

The Village Without Breath

"Let’s take the direct approach," Victor said.

Light floated down, snagging on his gold-colored eyes, scattering into tiny bright pieces that gave his stare a hard, polished edge. Stillness lived there. A quiet certainty. The kind found in someone long past arguing about what comes next.

"And ask the villagers what the hell is happening in this village."

Clara inhaled sharply.

She almost reached out - well, perhaps it lasted more than just fifty breaths - but she truly thought about seizing his shirt and dragging him behind her, down the slope.

Direct approach?

Beneath each house, soil held bones older than the houses themselves.

Her jaw tightened.

Out loud came her words, soft but sharp - disbelief pooling in her voice while her eyes locked onto his like he’d proposed a visit to the underworld, then added please when requesting a map.

His gaze slid toward her again, an eyebrow creeping up a touch. What kept her from saying yes?

"Why not?" Clara repeated, incredulous. "Victor, we just saw a graveyard filled with bodies that look exactly like the people living down there. Doesn’t that bother you even a little?"

Victor shrugged, unconcerned.

"It does," he said simply. "Which is exactly why we should ask them."

Her eyes locked on his face. He stood still under her gaze.

One second she paused, questioning whether he really missed the risk - or saw it clearly but stayed indifferent. Maybe knowing made no difference to him.

That look stayed fixed upon him. She watched, eyes slow to leave his features.

That look.

That stubborn, infuriating look.

Most folks learned fast that pushing back against Victor was like yelling into a storm. His mind made up, resistance slipped off him like rain on stone. Effort didn’t matter. Logic piled high, shouts full of fire - none of it stuck. The path stayed fixed, quiet and unshaken, going only one way.

The water moved fast, aimed directly at the village. Into its path it surged, without slowing. Straight ahead lay the small cluster of homes. Toward them pushed the force of the flow. Downstream, nothing blocked its way. Forward it raced, pulled by gravity and slope. Close now - the edge of the settlement almost reached.

A quick look slid toward Lane. She turned her head just enough to see him out of the corner of her eye.

Lane stayed quiet the whole while.

Behind Victor’s shoulder she stayed, just a step back, calm and still, yet somehow alert. Clara saw it right away. Wherever he went, Lane came along - no pause, no question. This kind of faith didn’t shout; instead, it showed up in her steps, light but certain. Even when her gaze swept the room, checking corners, watching doors, part of her always faced him.

Should Victor step onto a field of war, Lane would appear at his side long before any arrow cut the air.

A slow stream of air slipped from Clara’s nostrils. She exhaled without sound, just movement beneath her ribs.

He kept moving forward without pause.

Fine, she finally spoke, each word tight, holding back annoyance. Whatever you decide, go ahead. Her tone sharp, yet quiet

Fingers clenched tight, even as she crossed her arms over her chest. She tried to seem calm, but the stiffness gave her away.

His eyes moved toward her. She noticed it right away.

And chuckled.

Not mockingly.

Just... amused.

Clara’s cheeks were faintly tight with frustration, her lips pressed together like she was trying very hard not to say something violent. Seeing the normally composed, razor-sharp Clara standing there and quietly sulking like that was—unexpectedly—kind of cute.

He tilted his head slightly.

"You’re overthinking it," he said. "Worst case, they lie to us."

Clara shot him a flat look. "You think that’s the worst case?"

Victor smiled faintly but didn’t answer.

Instead, he turned and began walking down the mountain as if the decision had already been settled the moment he spoke.

Lane moved immediately.

Silent as a shadow slipping across stone, she followed him without hesitation, boots barely making a sound against the path.

As she passed Clara, Lane gave a small shrug.

"What?" she said quietly. "He’s not wrong. We need answers."

Clara pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Of course you’d say that."

Lane only smiled faintly and continued down the trail.

Clara remained where she was for one heartbeat longer, staring at the village far below. The lights flickered faintly in the distance, warm and peaceful from afar—completely at odds with the cold graveyard resting above it.

Something about the whole place made her skin crawl.

"Direct approach," she muttered to herself. "Unbelievable."

Then she pushed herself forward, irritation still simmering under her breath.

Clara stood there for one heartbeat longer, face full of reluctance, before muttering something under her breath and trailing after them.

—

Night had fully settled by the time they descended.

The trek down was slower than their climb. The mountain path was treacherous in darkness—loose stones, hidden dips, jagged roots waiting to twist an ankle.

Victor walked steadily, as if strolling through a park instead of descending into potential death.

Lane moved beside him, eyes constantly shifting.

Clara stayed slightly behind, senses stretched thin.

The wind had changed.

It no longer felt natural.

It felt... empty.

When they finally reached the village entrance, all three of them slowed.

Something was wrong.

No lamps.

No firelight.

No distant voices.

No dogs barking.

No movement.

The village stood in eerie silence.

Victor’s expression did not change—but his posture did.

Subtle.

Shoulders relaxed.

Breathing even.

Alert.

He extended his senses.

Nothing.

Not a single presence.

He turned inward.

"Diana," he asked silently. "Is there anyone in the village?"

There was a brief pause before her voice answered within his mind.

"No, Master. There is no one."

Victor’s eyes sharpened.

That response carried weight.

If Diana couldn’t sense anyone, that meant either—

They were gone.

Or something powerful was concealing them.

He preferred the second possibility.

He truly did.

But logic pointed to the first.

Lane stepped slightly closer to him.

"This silence isn’t normal," she murmured.

Clara’s hand tightened on her shield strap.

They stood there for several long moments, waiting.

Watching.

Expecting someone to step out.

To greet them.

To lie.

No one came.

Finally, Clara exhaled and lowered her guard slightly—not fully, but enough to speak.

"So what do we do now?" she asked, eyes scanning darkened windows. "We can’t ask the villagers anything. They’re not here."

Her voice dropped.

"Do you still think we should handle this ourselves? Whoever’s pulling the strings knows we found the bodies. If they cleared the village like this... they’re preparing for something."

Victor didn’t respond.

Not because he disagreed.

But because she was stating the obvious.

Instead, he focused on what mattered.

"Diana," he spoke internally again, "can you extend your search range?"

In his current state, Victor’s perception radius was limited. His mana control was sharp—but not vast.

Diana’s senses were superior when it came to blood, life, and corruption.

There was a faint ripple of consideration in her tone before she answered.

"I could... but I would need a bit of your blood, Master."

Lane’s head tilted slightly.

She didn’t hear Diana’s words—but she knew Victor was communicating.

Clara noticed the distant look in his eyes too.

"Victor?" she asked carefully. "What is it?"

He looked at them both.

The empty village stretched behind him like a stage awaiting actors.

"We need a wider search," he said calmly.

Lane’s gaze flicked toward the dark houses again.

"You think they’re nearby?"

"They didn’t vanish into air," Victor replied. "If they fled, they fled somewhere."

Clara crossed her arms again.

"And if they didn’t flee?"

Victor’s golden eyes glinted faintly.

"Then we’ll know soon."

Inside his mind, Diana waited.

"A bit of blood," she repeated softly.

Victor didn’t hesitate.

If extending her senses meant pulling the curtain back faster—

Then so be it.

The village remained silent.

Watching.

Waiting.