88: Hearthfire Village

Chapter 88 Hearthfire Village

Since Arthur wasn't sure how to ignite the leylines, and the Holy Scripture showed no reaction to the oak, he dared not try recklessly.

After all, this was someone else's temple; a single mistake could lead to unimaginable consequences.

After completing his daily prayers, Arthur decided to visit Hearthfire Village first.

He thought he might find a way to use the leylines' power there.

Before departing, he informed the Priestess that the Whispering Place contained the power of the leylines.

The Priestess didn't seem too surprised; she appeared to have already sensed it.

"The land here is exceptionally fertile," she said. "We've been cultivating it for so many years, yet its fertility hasn't diminished at all. If there wasn't some special power at work, I'd be more surprised."

"In my opinion, he guided you here, perhaps precisely to resolve our current crisis."

The Priestess's trust deeply moved Arthur. He gathered his party and set off towards Hearthfire Village.

Hearthfire Village no longer existed.

It wasn't that it had been destroyed, but rather that the entire place had fallen into an eerie silence.

Aside from the sound of wind rustling debris, no living creature could be heard throughout the village.

Not even crows or rats were to be seen. The village wasn't large to begin with, and Arthur's party quickly reached its center.

There was nothing much to see here—only a circle of rough earthen mounds surrounded by dilapidated small houses.

In the distance stood the village's only stone building, a simple small chapel.

The chapel's roof was an inconspicuous spire made of cracked stones.

The windows, originally fitted with glass, were mostly shattered now.

Arthur and his group walked towards the chapel.

The chapel door had been broken open, leaving only splinters sticking up from the doorframe like spikes.

Arthur bent down to examine it; it was a crude wooden carving of Mother Earth.

Presumably, the priests of the Whispering Place had left it here, likely hoping it could slowly restore vitality to this land.

"Only the soil here is normal," Airo keenly observed.

Arthur nodded in agreement.

From the moment they entered the village, every inch of land they walked on displayed a sickly hue.

For some reason, Arthur felt as if he were injured.

So he closed his eyes, feeling the land beneath his feet.

A thought surfaced in his mind: It is weeping.

Bruce looked around uneasily, this eerie place making his hair stand on end.

He believed he wasn't the only one in the party feeling this way.

However, as they approached the chapel, this discomfort noticeably receded.

"The chapel is still safe," Arthur judged. "Although an evil aura pervades the surroundings, this land retains a sacred energy."

"Those things are afraid of it."

Arthur's words made the dwarf Jerome nervously turn his head.

The empty village was like a graveyard, so quiet it was unsettling, seemingly harboring unknown dangers.

"My lord, have you sensed something?" he asked.

Arthur looked at the sun and replied, "It's still daytime. Undead creatures dislike sunlight; they mostly move at night."

"But I can't guarantee that. I need you to buy me some time."

"No problem," everyone responded.

Arthur strode over the threshold of the small chapel and stood at the entrance.

The others followed him inside.

The small chapel was no more than twenty yards long.

It exuded a decaying smell, like a patient who hadn't been cleaned in a long time.

A short hall led to a wooden altar at the very back, on which hung a tattered tapestry.

The altar's surface was covered in chisel marks, but its structure remained intact.

The chapel's windows were narrow and tall, set high on the walls, allowing only faint sunlight to cast a weak glow inside.

"I'll go check the roof," Airo said.

She really didn't want to stay in this place that made her uncomfortable.

Compared to the chapel's interior, being outside made her feel more relaxed and comfortable.

This place seemed to possess a power that she instinctively resisted.

Arthur nodded.

Arthur nodded, and Airo immediately slipped out through a broken window.

The others took up their positions: Philip and the dwarf guarded the entrance.

Bruce and Drax stood on either side of the chapel, guarding against anything entering through the broken windows.

Flora and Arthur walked towards the altar.

Suddenly, a scratching sound arose, then abruptly ceased.

Arthur stopped, and Flora stepped in front of him.

Bruce and Drax also quickly moved closer.

The two at the door drew their weapons and remained on guard.

"What was that?" Drax asked.

Flora made a shushing gesture.

Flora made a shushing gesture, pointing her chin towards the altar.

That was the only place in this chapel where something could hide.

She walked towards the altar, hands clenched into fists, her steps light and silent.

Drax followed close behind, his battle-axe poised and ready.

Flora reached the altar, and after Drax was in position, she signaled to him.

Together, they lifted the wooden altar.

A spider-like cluster of limbs darted out from behind the altar.

The orc instinctively swung his axe, but Flora pushed him aside with a palm.

The axe struck the ground, emitting a crisp, ear-piercing sound.

The thing scurried across the flagstone floor, its eyes wide, gray skin clinging tightly to its bones, and its arms stretched long.

Airo leaped down from a hole in the roof, deftly dodging the pouncing creature.

It opened its mouth, revealing rotten gums and yellow teeth.

A terrifying, cat-like sound scraped from what had once been human vocal cords.

Then it stopped.

The orc grabbed its collar and dragged it back.

He held the poor wretch up in front of him with one hand.

Completely disregarding its flailing legs and scratching fingers.

It hung in the air, struggling for a while.

The orc's eyes narrowed.

"It's a living person," he said.

The scrawny figure continued to struggle, snarling and whimpering like an animal.

The orc did not relax his grip on him.

Finally, the strange person stopped struggling, slumping in Drax's hand.

But his gaze remained wild, his bloodshot eyes bulging as if he had forgotten how to close them.

"Who are you?" the orc asked.

Airo cautiously approached it, holding her hand crossbow at the ready.

Arthur got a clear look at the fellow; it was a man, or rather, something resembling a man.

His clothes were torn and ragged, revealing his distinct ribs underneath.

His cheeks were deeply sunken, his skin almost waxy yellow, and his body was covered in long scratches, the wounds unhealed, the scabs covered in pus and fresh blood.

A sickly stench emanated from him.

"Who are you?" Arthur stepped forward and asked.

The man spoke with great difficulty.

He licked his dry lips with a thick tongue, swallowed painfully, and stammered, "I am Raul, the village—the village chief's son."

A bout of dry coughing made his body tremble uncontrollably.

When he recovered, the madness in his eyes had receded, and he looked almost like a child.

"For earth mother's sake," he cried, "I beg you, kill me."

Arthur did not kill him, but instead had the orc put him down.

Raul gazed intently into Arthur's eyes for a long time, unblinking, his body trembling from illness and fear.