Chapter 4: The Enemy Among Us

The days were flowing by... And along with them, the murders were also increasing. It was no longer a coincidence. It was not a monster. It was a mind. A will. The victims were always the same: experienced guards, trusted men, village protectors.

“It's as if he knows exactly where to strike ... as if he knows every detail of this place ...”

Every morning, a new death. Every night, a new fear. Ren sat outside Zaro's house, his gaze lost in the copper-colored sunset sky.

One question had haunted him for hours:
"There is magic in this world ... but I ... can I really use it?"

He had seen his first death, smelled it, felt the chill in his chest. Yet ... he felt useless. Zaro, meanwhile, had strengthened patrols, increased controls, but.... The victims kept falling.

"Who is doing this to us? And why this particular remote village...?"

A thought flashed through Ren's mind. At first it was just a shadow, then it became a voice, and finally it became urgency. He rushed into the house.

“Mr. Zaro?”

Zaro lifted his gaze from a scroll, his eyes tired. “Tell me everything, boy.”

“I-I've been thinking about what's going on...” He inhaled deeply.
"In my opinion...whoever is attacking us is someone you know."

Zaro frowned. “...What do you mean?”

The boy clenched his fists. "Victims have fallen even in the most protected places, those that only a few know about. Hidden places, safe rooms.... No one could get there unless they were familiar with this place."

Zaro remained silent. Time seemed to stand still. “O-now that I think about it...you're right...”

His gaze was lost in the void.

"...But then...who? Who would be capable of betraying their village like that?"

He had no answer. Only a thin frost, like an omen.
"...I don't know. But we have to find out. Before it's too late."

His words dispersed through the air, light as wind... Yet in that heavy silence, they sounded like a promise.

Evening fell quickly over the village. A gloomy sky enveloped the roofs of the houses, and the stillness that followed seemed heavier than usual.

Zaro, as he did every evening, retired to rest, with the weary look of one who has not yet accepted the horror consuming around him. Ren, on the other hand, stood still in front of the window. His arms crossed, his gaze fixed on the night sky.
"I can't think..."

Every idea, every guess...seemed futile to him. He had read so many stories in his life. So many worlds, so many heroes. Yet, nothing gave him an answer. Nothing that helped him understand.

“...Even a book never taught me how to survive real fear.”

“Maybe...I just need a breath of air.” He opened the door and went out.

The village streets were empty, as if swept away by a collective fear. Not a soul. Not a lantern lit. Just darkness.

“I see everyone is locked in their houses...” A tired smirk slipped across his lips.
"...I'd say they do well."

Then. A voice. A shout. “H-help!!!”

He turned sharply. His heart was pounding. “...A scream?”

But soon after, a gust of cold wind tousled his hair. He shivered.
"Just the wind ... yes, just the wind."

He resumed walking, although he didn't understand why he was doing it either. There was something reassuring, though, about moving forward. Or at least, it was... until a sudden pain bent him in two.

“Ahh...!!!” A burst of pain in his ears, like thin needles piercing his brain.

He fell to his knees, hands clasped over his eardrums. "W-what a pain! What's happening to me!"

Then, in the silence of the night. A voice.
"Help...!"

Clear. Heartbreaking. A female voice, broken. It seemed to come from far away, yet it rang in his ears as if the woman was screaming right next to him.

“She's screaming...but I...I don't see anyone!”
"Please...help me..."

That voice... Now it was closer. It was coming right from the road he was walking down. Ren slowly looked up, his face as white as milk.
"...I-I have to go."

The legs were shaking. His heart was pounding. But he took a step. Then another. And when the voice was a few feet away, he hid behind a corner, his side pressed against the cold wall.

He leaned out slowly. And he saw her. A woman. Alone. A purple dress down to her feet, her hair swaying in the wind. She stood motionless in the center of the street. There was no one else there.

“She is crying...but is she alone...?”

He gathered some courage and took a half-step forward. A small smile was drawn on his face, as if to say “don't be afraid.” But it was in that instant that it happened.

Zack.

A sharp sound. A cut in the air. Then the sound of something falling. The woman's body slumped to the ground with a dull thud.

His eyes opened wide.. He immediately retreated behind the wall, his breath broken, his skin icy cold. He sat on the ground, his back against the house, unable to move.

He had just seen a person die. He had witnessed one of the murders. Yet-he had not seen the executioner. Only the echo of that pleading voice.And the impossibility, once again, of saving her.