Chapter 337

They say the mountains of the Philippines are unforgiving. The trees stretch higher than you'd expect, their twisted branches reaching for skies that never seem to change. Dense fog rolls in at night, swallowing up what little light there is, leaving everything to sink into darkness.

It's a place where time doesn't exist—where the past, the present, and the future all mix into one stagnant cloud of dampness and decay. For those who get lost, it's as if the mountains never let them leave. But there's something worse than getting lost out there.

Ilo, a man from a distant town, knew that truth firsthand.

He'd come to the mountains, a journey born out of desperation. His sister, Maria, had disappeared a month earlier, last seen in a village near the foot of these peaks. Local rumors had started to circulate about something sinister in the mountains.

People had gone missing, hikers had found strange things on their way up. Broken, discarded clothing. A trail of blood that just stopped. All of it led to the mountains.

Ilo's search started as soon as he arrived. He asked questions at the local tavern, to anyone who would listen, and a few had. They warned him. Don't go too deep, they said. There was someone in the mountains.

The Coin Killer, they called him. An entity that had taken so many, no one could count. The Coin Killer left his mark. A coin. A simple, ordinary coin, placed somewhere on the body, hidden in the folds of clothing, or shoved in pockets. The coin was always there, gleaming in the dark, a silent witness to the brutal end.

But Ilo wasn't deterred. He couldn't be. Maria was gone, and he was going to find her. The mountains were vast, yes, but they couldn't swallow everything. Not if he kept his head.

That night, Ilo began his search. He climbed with the patience of someone who knew the odds were against him but still pressed on. The path was jagged, twisting between trees that stretched like skeletal arms over him. Each step was careful, measured. The air thick with the scent of wet moss and rotting wood. Every crack of a twig underfoot felt like a betrayal. The mountains had eyes.

Hours passed. Maybe more. Ilo wasn't sure. The fog rolled in thicker, colder. The moon barely peeked through the mist, casting everything in a sickly, muted glow. Then he saw it—a trail of something dark, almost black against the gray earth. At first, Ilo thought it was just mud, but the smell stopped him. Something wrong. Something too sour.

The trail led deeper.

His heart raced faster, a nervous beat in his chest. He tried to tell himself it was just the wind, that maybe a wild animal had bled out somewhere nearby. But no. The smell was sharp, too sharp. He followed it, against every instinct in his body that told him to turn back.

The path wound up into a narrow ravine, its walls towering on either side like jagged teeth ready to snap shut. Ilo's eyes were fixed ahead, not daring to look back. He could still feel that eerie weight pressing on him.

The trail of blood stopped at a small clearing. The trees were sparse here, the ground softer. Then Ilo saw it. The body.

It wasn't Maria. The person was too old, too worn. But there was something about the scene that made Ilo freeze, his body cold. The man had been tied to a tree. His arms outstretched, his head drooping forward as if his neck had been snapped.

His clothes were torn, barely holding together. And there, lodged between his ribs, was a coin. A dirty, tarnished coin.

Ilo's breath hitched. He approached slowly, keeping his eyes on the body, trying to keep his focus steady. The man's lips were cracked, dried, but Ilo swore he saw them twitch. Just for a moment. He blinked. No, it was nothing. The body was long dead. But the coin... that fucking coin. It wasn't just some leftover trinket. It was the mark. The Coin Killer had been here.

Ilo's heart hammered in his chest. The mountain felt too quiet, as though everything around him was waiting for something. But what? His eyes scanned the clearing once more, his pulse rising. Something was wrong. Too wrong.

A sound, faint at first, reached his ears. A shuffling. Footsteps. His breath caught.

He turned, but there was nothing. Just the mist, rolling thick, wrapping the world in gray.

More footsteps. They were real. He could hear them now, slow, deliberate. Too slow.

Ilo's gut twisted. His body, too tired to run, screamed at him to move. He had no weapon. No way to fight whatever was out there. He had to go. He spun around, looking for a way out of the clearing. His eyes searched frantically. The fog was too thick, the shadows too dark.

Then, he saw it.

A figure, standing just outside the clearing, barely visible through the trees. It was tall, hunched, its face hidden beneath a hood. The air felt colder, a chill that settled deep inside Ilo's bones. The figure didn't move, but Ilo could feel its eyes on him.

"Who are you?" Ilo shouted, his voice breaking through the silence. His throat felt dry.

The figure didn't respond. It only stepped forward, the slow shuffle of its feet like something scraping against dirt. The fog swallowed its form again, leaving only the faintest outline in its wake.

Ilo backed away, his breath coming faster now, panicked. He needed to move. He needed to run. But the figure wasn't leaving. It was following.

In a panic, Ilo bolted into the trees. His legs burned as he sprinted, each step more erratic than the last. His breath was ragged, his mind racing, but every time he looked behind, the figure was still there, gliding in the shadows.

His foot caught on a root. He fell, hard, his hands scraping against the ground as he tried to catch himself. He scrambled to his feet, but his chest tightened, every breath a struggle. The fog was closing in on him again, like a suffocating blanket. His vision blurred. The world around him seemed to twist and distort.

That's when he heard it. A low, dry voice.

"Lost…?"

The figure was behind him now. So close.

Ilo didn't turn. He couldn't.

"You… you killed her, didn't you?" Ilo gasped, feeling his heart pound against his ribs. "You took her from me."

The figure's footsteps stopped. Ilo could feel the presence behind him, cold, silent.

"Not me," the voice rasped. "It was the mountain… the mountain kills."

Ilo's mind reeled. The mountains didn't kill. People did. But then… he thought about the body he'd found. And the coin. It wasn't the mountain that had taken his sister. It was this thing. This... thing that had marked them all.

Without warning, Ilo turned and ran again, his legs moving faster now, his body fuelled by pure terror. The trees whipped past, their branches scratching at his face. He stumbled through the undergrowth, not daring to look back, afraid that if he did, the figure would be right there, so close that he could feel its breath.

But there was nothing behind him. No sound. No footsteps.

A relief. But only for a moment.

Then he saw it.

A coin.

It was laying on the ground, just ahead of him, glinting in the dim light like a warning. He tried to stop, but his feet carried him forward, and before he knew it, his foot had pressed down on the coin. His legs buckled beneath him, and he collapsed to the ground, unable to breathe.

Something was on his back, pulling him into the earth. His hands reached for his neck, his chest, but there was nothing to grab, no air to inhale.

The last thing Ilo saw was a figure standing over him, its face hidden by shadows.

And then the coin slipped from his fingers.