Journey to Become the Zenith-Chapter 58: Blood on the Mountain Trail

Blood on the Mountain Trail

Ahead moved the man, guiding three others near the outer limit of the settlement.

Behind them, voices dropped off, one by one, while rooftops stretched wider into open ground. That last dwelling at the edge? Nothing like the rest - set apart by design, out of place on purpose.

Stone formed its walls instead of timber. The weight held firm where grain might twist.

Heavy stone cubes set one on top of another, just so. Windows held by iron skeletons. Beyond them, a smooth wood entrance patched with steel strips across its face. Tile covered the roof, unlike older homes with straw tops.

A single house stood out, its scale dwarfing every nearby structure by a factor of three.

A faint tightness touched Clara’s purple eyes when she saw it. She held still, just watching.

A glance was all it took. She knew exactly where things were headed.

This is exactly who leads the village.

Fred didn’t even slow his step. Victor just looked past it.

Just because he wore a badge didn’t mean he stood for fairness.

That old leader could eat off gold plates for all he cared. So long as no roadblocks came their way - no tricks either - the rest meant nothing.

They stopped before the house.

"This is the village chief’s residence," the man said.

He turned toward Clara. "I’ll inform him you’ve arrived."

He stepped forward and knocked twice on the heavy wooden door.

Knock. Knock.

"Village chief! Adventurers have arrived!" he called out.

Silence.

No voice responded from inside.

The man shifted awkwardly, glancing back at Victor’s group.

He waited a few seconds more.

Still nothing.

"Our village chief tends to reply a little late," he said with an uneasy smile. "Please wait. He will shortly come out."

Victor, Lane, and Clara exchanged a glance.

Victor raised an eyebrow.

"Your village chief is... a little strange," he muttered.

The man forced a chuckle. "Well..."

He didn’t elaborate.

Clara gave a polite nod. "Thank you, sir. We can handle it from here. You may go."

The man seemed relieved.

"Good luck with the task," he said quickly before turning and hurrying back toward the center of the village.

"Thank you," Clara and Lane answered together.

Victor simply nodded.

They waited.

No one spoke.

Victor tapped his fingers lightly against his arm.

He hated waiting.

After a few more seconds, he exhaled sharply.

"Oh, come on," he muttered. "Why doesn’t this old man open the door already? He’s not dead inside, right?"

Clara’s head snapped toward him.

"What the hell are you spouting?"

Victor shrugged.

"I’m starting to get impatient. How about we just break the door and see what he’s doing? Maybe he’s too busy counting coins."

He actually took a step toward the door.

Lane blinked.

Clara quickly raised a hand and blocked him.

"Let me knock properly first."

Victor sighed dramatically. "Fine. But if he doesn’t open it, I’m breaking it."

Clara shot him a look before stepping forward.

She knocked lightly.

No response.

Her jaw tightened slightly.

Then she knocked again.

Harder.

Five firm knocks echoed through the stone house.

A few seconds later, an irritated voice came from inside.

"I’m coming! Wait!"

Clara glanced back at Victor.

"See? No door breaking required."

Victor simply shrugged.

"Took long enough."

The door swung open.

A tall, skinny, middle-aged man stood in the doorway. His fingers were heavy with rings, and a gold chain rested over his embroidered tunic. His narrow eyes flicked over them dismissively.

"Who are you people? What do you need?" he asked, irritation clear in his tone.

Clara stepped forward calmly.

"We are adventurers from the guild."

The man looked them up and down.

"Oh. So you finally sent someone." His lips curled faintly. "And it’s a bunch of women and children. Is the guild in such a dire state?"

Victor’s golden eyes cooled.

"Well, no matter," the village chief continued dismissively. "I guess you will do."

Lane’s fingers tightened around her bow.

Clara inhaled slowly, keeping her voice even.

"We will do our best. So, village chief—what manner of monster are we facing here? What has it done? And what can it do?"

The man leaned lazily against the doorframe.

"I don’t know."

Clara blinked once.

"You don’t know? Then how are you able to tell that there is a monster near the village?"

He shrugged.

"It could be a monster. It could be a human. It could be something else."

Victor crossed his arms.

"All we know," the chief continued, "is that one of our hunters went up the mountain trail and saw blood. A lot of blood. Scattered everywhere."

His tone shifted slightly, though still casual.

"There was no body. Just blood. At first, we thought it was a one-time thing."

He gestured vaguely toward the mountains.

"But every now and then, when hunters went up again, they found more blood along the trail."

Lane’s expression grew more serious.

"That alone wasn’t enough to frighten people," the chief continued. "What truly frightened them was when they finally found a body to match the blood."

He paused.

"It was a mountain ogre."

Victor’s gaze sharpened.

"A mountain ogre," the chief repeated. "Dead. Something—or someone—is killing the mountain ogres at the top of the mountain."

He pushed off the doorframe and looked at them with open disdain.

"That’s why we sent the request. But who knew the guild would send you lot..."

He waved his hand dismissively.

"Well, that’s all I have to say. Come back once you figure out what kind of being is killing the mountain ogres."

Victor’s jaw flexed slightly.

The village chief slammed the door shut in their faces.

The sound echoed sharply against the stone walls.

Silence lingered.

"That man has a real problem," Victor sighed.

Lane exhaled slowly.

Clara rolled her shoulders, visibly restraining her irritation.

Victor glanced at her.

"So, Clara. What exactly is a mountain ogre? How strong is it?"

Clara shifted into explanation mode.

"A mountain ogre is a B-class monster," she said. "It’s two ranks below the Void Tyrant Hydra you fought."

Victor nodded slightly.

"Still," she continued, "you need at least two parties of B-ranked adventurers to safely kill one mountain ogre. They’re massive—over three meters tall. Thick skin like hardened bark. Brutal strength. Their swings can crush bone with ease."

She looked toward the mountains.

"If something is killing them consistently... then whatever it is must be near the strength of the Void Tyrant Hydra. Or at least one level below it."

Victor’s lips curved faintly.

"I see..."

He tilted his head.

"So what do you think killed those monsters?"

Clara shook her head.

"No clue at all. That’s why we’re here. It’s our mission to figure that out."

As they spoke, Lane’s eyes drifted upward toward the mountainside.

Her breath stilled.

There.

A silhouette.

Watching them.

Perched on a rocky ledge.

The moment she locked eyes with it, it vanished into shadow.

"Victor," Lane said quietly. "Someone was watching us."

Victor turned calmly.

"Where?"

"Up there," she pointed. "It ran away."

Clara followed her gaze.

Victor’s expression remained composed.

"Don’t think too much about it," Clara said after a moment. "The people here are curious about adventurers. No one has passed these mountain ranges in a long time."

Victor nodded once.

"Let’s focus on the quest. First, we talk to the hunters. The one who saw the blood. And the one who found the body."

Lane didn’t look fully convinced—but she didn’t argue.

If whoever was watching wanted something—

Let them come.