Journey to Become the Zenith

The Boy Who Didn’t Belong

For a second, Clara said nothing, her mind turning it over. Then quiet settled around her like dust after footsteps stop.

A sudden hush fell across the branches past where the houses ended, air stirring with a trace of burning mixed with another note - sharp like iron, off somehow. Trees trembled under it.

”Not only that,” Victor went on, his golden eyes calm but sharp, ”everyone in that village was too calm. If something capable of killing mountain ogres was near my home, people would panic. They’d fortify. They’d prepare. These villagers? They’re living normally.”

Lane let her eyes drop from the treetops at last. All along, her body had leaned that way - pulled by something unseen, almost trembling with stillness.

”I also have something to report about the villagers,” she said quietly.

Her eyes met Victor’s gaze. The room fell silent around them.

Clara straightened slightly.

Lane continued, her voice steady, but there was something colder beneath it. ”I noticed they were hiding something on their necks. All of them. The children. The village chief. The hunters. Every one of them might have a wound on their neck.”

Her expression didn’t change.

But what she said hung heavy.

Clara’s fingers tightened slightly around the edge of her shield.

”A wound?” she asked softly.

”They adjusted their collars constantly,” Lane replied. ”And when I shifted positions to see from another angle, I caught glimpses. Bandages. Bruises. Something beneath the skin.”

Victor’s gaze darkened.

”We have too little information regarding this incident,” Clara said carefully, forcing her thoughts into order. ”What could the villagers be hiding? For now, we shouldn’t believe anything they’re saying. Not even the children.”

Victor nodded once.

Lane did the same.

Trust nothing.

”Okay,” Clara continued, her voice more resolved now. ”Now that we are in agreement, let’s head to the site where the hunters saw the head. Maybe we can get some clues there.”

”Sure,” Victor said lightly. Then his tone shifted. ”But before that.”

Before Clara could ask what he meant—

He vanished.

One moment he was standing beside them.

The next—

Nothing.

A whisper moved through the trees. Branches trembled without warning. Air slipped between them like thread.

Lane stood still. This she saw coming.

A single blink passed before Clara crossed her arms tightly.

Time moved forward by a small amount.

Out of nowhere, Victor showed up again, acting like he’d just wandered off for a moment.

Except -

Someone rested in his arms.

A thin kid, black hair mess on his head, dark eyes wide. He wriggled hard, trying to twist free. The hold stayed tight.

”Let go of me! Let go!” the boy shouted, kicking uselessly.

That voice again,” Clara said, caught off guard. A strange idea flickered - just briefly - inside her head. Could it be Victor took someone’s kid?

”That’s the kid who was spying on us,” Lane answered calmly.

Footsteps froze when her eyes locked onto the shape - there, again, the outline she’d spotted high on the slope before. That shadow between trees now stood still, real and close.

Down went the boy, placed by Victor.

Foots hitting dirt, he wobbled backward, eyes locking on Victor - scared, yet set hard like stone.

Bending just a bit at the knees, Victor dropped down to match how tall he stood.

”So, kid,” he said evenly, ”why were you spying on us? Do you need something from us?”

A small shake ran through the bottom of his mouth. The corner of it twitched, just once.

Faces dropped low, as if tears might fall any second.

Fists tight, he forced the feeling down instead.

”...”

Silence.

”Let me try,” Clara said gently, stepping forward.

Victor leaned back slightly, giving her space.

Clara reached into a small pouch at her waist and pulled out a piece of fruit candy she carried for long travels. She knelt so her eye level was closer to his.

She held it out.

The boy hesitated.

Then slowly reached for it.

His fingers brushed hers for a second before he pulled back, clutching the candy tightly.

His shoulders loosened just a fraction.

”Hi there,” Clara said softly. ”I’m Clara. An adventurer from Fantom City. What’s your name?”

Victor raised a brow slightly.

Lane blinked once.

Neither had seen Clara this gentle before.

The boy looked at her carefully. Weighing her.

”...Soren...” he muttered.

Warmth spread across Clara’s face when his reply reached her ears.

”That’s a strong name, Soren,” she said. ”It suits you.”

A small hand tugged at the wrapper, peeling it back inch by inch. His eyes stayed fixed on the bright paper, fingers careful, almost quiet.

”So, Soren,” Clara continued, her voice careful and kind, ”can you tell this big sister why you were spying on me and my friends?”

He hesitated again.

Fingers curled into the wrapper, pressure building slowly.

”I... I wanted to ask for help...” he whispered.

Victor’s gaze sharpened.

”I wanted to make sure... you didn’t become one of them.”

A shaky voice delivered the final syllable.

Her face shifted without warning.

Into her arms he went, caught by softness just as he started to step back.

A frame stretched tight, almost breaking at the edges. Bones pressed like blades through cloth gone soft with age. Smoke clung low to his skin, mixed with the damp grit of trees and time spent under branches.

”Don’t be afraid,” Clara murmured. ”We’re pretty strong. I promise we’ll listen.”

Soren’s composure cracked.

”Everyone... everyone in the village started acting weird,” he said, voice shaking. ”A few weeks ago.”

A look passed between Victor and Lane.

”At some point... even my mom and dad...” His voice broke.

Fingers clutching at her coat, he pressed his face into Clara’s shoulder, tears starting without warning. Then came the quiet sobs, muffled by fabric and breath.

That’s okay,” Clara said softly, her hand moving slow across his back. Just let go

They waited.

A hush moved among the leaves as air slipped between branches.

Victor didn’t interrupt.

Lane kept watch.

Minutes passed before Soren’s crying softened into shaky breaths.

”I saw them,” he whispered hoarsely. ”I saw everyone eating that monster.”

Victor’s expression didn’t change.

Clara froze slightly.

”They only left the head,” Soren finished.

Silence fell.

The villagers ate the mountain ogre.

Clara’s mind raced.

What kind of madness was this?

Victor’s thoughts were sharper.

Blood scent.

Neck wounds.

Claws like small hands.

Calm villagers.

Consumption.

His lips curled faintly.

He had a guess.

Not certainty.

But a direction.

This wasn’t just madness.

This was something organized.

Something parasitic.

Perhaps not a monster from the mountains.

Perhaps something already inside the village.

Clara pulled back slightly to look at Soren.

”Why didn’t they hurt you?” she asked gently.

The boy’s eyes flickered.

”I pretend,” he whispered. ”I say I don’t feel well. I hide when they go up the mountain. They... they get angry if I ask questions.”

”How long have you been hiding?” Lane asked quietly.

”Since the second ogre,” Soren replied.

Victor finally spoke again.

”Did you see anything else?” he asked, voice calm.

Soren nodded weakly.

”At night... sometimes their eyes look wrong.”

Clara’s heartbeat slowed.

”Wrong how?”

”Like... like something else is looking through them.”

Victor straightened slowly.

There it is.

Clara released a soft breath.

”Alright,” she said gently. ”You did well coming to us.”

She looked up at Victor.

”We go to the mountain,” he said simply.

Lane nodded immediately.

Clara hesitated for only a moment before agreeing. ”Yes.”

Victor looked at Soren.

”You’re coming with us.”

The boy blinked. ”W-What?”

”You’re safer away from them,” Victor said plainly. ”If what you said is true, staying in that village isn’t an option.”

Soren looked uncertain—but hopeful.

Clara squeezed his shoulder.

”You don’t have to be alone anymore.”

The boy nodded slowly.

Victor’s golden eyes glinted faintly.

Inside, something stirred.

A fight.

A real one.

His smile returned—sharp, almost vicious.

This quest had turned out far better than expected.

If his hunch was right—

Then something interesting was waiting on that mountain.