Chương 91: The Silent Ghost Village

The air at this towering altitude was entirely different from what they were used to below. It was pure, crisp air, sharp as an icy blade, purifying the lungs with every breath. The stench of rot, blood, and damp mud that characterized the "Danger Zone" in the Falus Forest was entirely absent. Instead, the breeze carried the faint fragrance of celestial lotus flowers that only grew at these heights, and the scent of antique sandalwood.

Yet, despite this breathtaking purity, the horizon groaned under the weight of a "cautious calm"... a viscous, heavy calm that sent shivers down the spine and forced instinct to declare a state of maximum emergency. The lavish wooden houses, built in perfect harmony with the curves of the massive branches, stood in deafening silence. The terrifying paradox lay in the details of those houses; the wooden doors, carved with leaf motifs, were flung wide open, and the large windows were unlatched.

The sheer silk curtains, dyed in shades of emerald and silver, fluttered and billowed out of the windows with gusts of the cold breeze, like desperate hands waving a silent goodbye, or warning newcomers not to advance. Dex felt a knot in his stomach. This kind of silence wasn't the silence of peace, but the silence of freshly exhumed graves. Dex advanced with slow, calculated steps toward one of the large houses overlooking the central square.

His right hand hovered near his belt, while his blue eyes, glowing with the faint flame of the Phoenix, scanned every centimeter of the place. He crossed the wooden threshold and entered the spacious hallway. Here, Dex wasn't the hero who had faced the Minotaur; he had reverted to being "Dex the Prisoner," the young man who had spent a portion of his life in the most dangerous cells of "Black Rock." In prison, you learn how to read a room before you enter it.

You learn how noticing a small scratch on a wall might conceal a blade, or how a drop of water in the wrong place could mean a trap. Dex employed this cold, analytical mindset to deconstruct the space.

"There's no sign of a struggle," Dex analyzed in a low voice, almost talking to himself, as he ran his recently hardened fingers along the edge of a circular wooden table in the middle of the main room. His eyes roamed the corners, over the rugs woven from soft plant fibers, and across the walls adorned with light ornamental weapons.

"No bloodstains or drag marks from bodies. No smashed furniture or overturned chairs. Even the fragile glass cups on the shelves haven't fallen. There are no signs of a violent escape attempt or mass panic. An invading army didn't storm this place." This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. He approached the table. There were decorated pottery bowls still holding remnants of food.

Pieces of bread made from a shiny flour resembling crushed silver, and slices of unfamiliar dried fruits. Beside the plates were delicate crystal goblets, still containing drops of an aromatic purple liquid at the bottom, exuding the scent of wild berries and nectar. Everything in the room screamed one unsettling truth: the inhabitants of this village, the notoriously cautious Elves, had abandoned their homes in the middle of their meals, in the blink of an eye.

It was as if they had responded to a hidden call, or a sudden, silent command heard by no one else, leaving everything behind and vanishing like smoke. Lumia followed his steps inside. Her clear eyes were studying the place from a different perspective. She approached a slightly shadowed corner and ran her delicate finger over the surface of a low wooden cabinet.

"Dex, look at this," Lumia said in a quiet but tension-filled voice, raising her finger to show him.

"The dust." Dex stepped closer and looked at the cabinet's surface.

"What about it? The place looks clean."

"Exactly," Lumia nodded.

"The dust hasn't accumulated significantly yet. The layer here is very thin, barely visible, and that's in an open, high-altitude environment like this, where the wind constantly carries pollen particles. This means one thing: the inhabitants didn't abandon the village years or months ago. They were here only a few hours ago.

Perhaps they left at the exact same time our fierce battle with the mercenaries occurred below, or perhaps when you awakened the Phoenix energy to fight the Minotaur and shattered the fog barrier." Dex furrowed his brows. The timing was no coincidence. Had his fight drawn their attention? Did they flee in fear of his core's energy, or had they gathered elsewhere to prepare to confront him?

Dex left the house and walked with heavy steps back to the center of the main square, where several suspension bridges from various tree branches converged. He stood in the center, trying to listen for anything beyond the rustling of the silk curtains. Suddenly, he stopped breathing. He felt an icy, all-too-familiar prickle crawl from the base of his spine up to the back of his neck. The fine hairs on his arms stood up. He knew this feeling very well from the dark alleys of the prison.

It was the feeling of "predation"; that primal biological alarm screaming in the prey's mind, telling it that it has fallen into the hunter's net and that eyes are staring at it from the darkness. Dex quickly darted his gaze around. There were no humans, monsters, or Elves in sight. The square was completely empty. But the village wasn't "empty." It was "full"...

full of something else, something invisible, something malicious watching them from every dark window, from under every suspension bridge, and from the gaps in the upper branches. At that moment, Lumia raised her head. Due to her celestial nature and her possession of void energy, her sensitivity to the surrounding mana fluctuations was magnitudes greater than Dex's.

"Dex..." Lumia whispered, as if she feared her voice would wake a sleeping beast.

"Don't look at the doors... look at the walls... look at the sky right above us."