Chapter 2: The Silent Village

Chapter 2: The Silent Village

The walk to girl's home felt endless. The path twisted through the hills, bordered by trees whispering in the rain. Baldwin noticed the village they passed through was strangely lifeless. Most shops—small wooden structures with weathered signs—were shuttered. Only a few people were visible, their faces drawn and unfriendly.

Their glares lingered on the girl, their disdain unmistakable.

"What's your name?" Baldwin asked, breaking the tense silence.

"Olivia," the girl replied softly, her voice barely above the sound of raindrops.

"A sweet name," Baldwin said with a smile, but Olivia remained silent, her gaze fixed on the muddy path ahead.

The village faded behind them as Olivia led him toward the forested hills. The air grew cooler, and the rain lightened, becoming a mist that clung to their clothes. Eventually, they reached a small clearing where a broken hut stood alone.

The hut looked weary, as though it had weathered one storm too many. Its red roof sagged in places, and the wooden walls were cracked and warped. A small vegetable garden lay untended, overrun with weeds. Nearby, a solitary tree stood as if guarding the home.

"This is your home, I assume?" Baldwin asked.

"Yes," Olivia said, her voice trembling. "Sorry, but I… I'll do anything if you can help my mother. Please, just help her."

Baldwin nodded solemnly and followed Olivia into the hut.

Inside, the air was damp and cold. There was little furniture—just three large water jars and a few dried fruits that looked well past their prime. Baldwin's gaze fell on the woman lying on the floor, a thin sheet separating her from the cold wood.

She was stunningly beautiful despite her pale, sickly appearance. Her chest rose and fell faintly, as if each breath was a battle. Her forehead glistened with sweat, and her cheeks were flushed with fever.

Baldwin knelt beside her, placing a hand on her forehead. The heat radiating from her skin was alarming. If she were an ordinary human, this fever would have killed her already, he thought grimly.

"What are her symptoms?" Baldwin asked, glancing at Olivia.

"She was unconscious for sixteen days," Olivia began, her voice wavering. "Sometimes she moves, but… it's like she's in pain. Her temperature is always so high. She's like… like she's in a coma."

Baldwin listened carefully, piecing her words together with what he already knew. The Homa Plague, as the reports described, was no ordinary illness. Victims fell into deep comas, their bodies overtaken by something unnatural. When they awoke, they were no longer the same—personalities erased, memories gone. Worse, the rumors claimed they killed the first person they saw, sometimes drinking their blood before vanishing.

He kept these grim details to himself. There was no need to burden Olivia with such horrors.

"Why are you spacing out?" Olivia asked, her tone sharp with worry.

"No reason," Baldwin said, forcing a small smile. "Just thinking."

"Well… don't touch her too much," Olivia warned. "People say you can get infected that way."

Baldwin chuckled softly, his hand still on the woman's forehead. "Don't worry about me."

Before Olivia could respond, a low growl rumbled through the hut. Baldwin raised an eyebrow.

"Someone seems hungry," he commented.

Olivia's face turned crimson. She quickly covered her face with her hands and turned away, too embarrassed to look at him.

"It's okay, Olivia," Baldwin said gently. "Do you have any food?"

"There's a fruit tree… south of the house," Olivia mumbled.

"Is it far?"

"No, I'll go get some." Without waiting for a response, Olivia hurried out of the hut.

As soon as she was gone, Baldwin's hand began to glow faintly red. Tiny arcs of lightning crackled around his fingertips as he focused his energy on the woman. Something about her felt… familiar.

Where have I seen her before? Or someone like her? he wondered.

But he pushed the thought aside and turned his attention to the disease. He needed to understand how the Homa Plague truly worked. If the rumors were true, this wasn't just an illness—it was a curse, or worse, an experiment.

"My apologies, Olivia," Baldwin murmured. "For being selfish. But before I can save her, I need to figure out the truth behind this plague."

He closed his eyes, letting his energy flow into the woman, searching for answers in the darkness of her affliction.

It had been a while since Baldwin closed his eyes to focus. His mind now transported into an endless white space, surrounded by towering, living structures resembling colossal churches. The sky stretched infinitely above him, and the air pulsed with an otherworldly energy. The churches were unlike anything he'd seen—high spires reached beyond his sight, and their surfaces seemed alive, shifting and pulsing faintly.

Baldwin decided to approach one of the towering edifices, but they lacked doors or windows, leaving no apparent way inside. As he reached out to touch one, a sharp, searing pain erupted in his head, breaking his focus instantly.

He gasped and found himself back in the hut, lying on the ground. Blood dripped from his forehead. Confused, he tried to assess what had happened. The wall in front of him bore a dent where he'd struck his head, and it became clear he had been attacked.

Looking around, Baldwin saw a group of men in the hut. One of them held Olivia, her frightened struggles futile against his grip. Others were lifting Olivia's mother, preparing to take her away.

"Wait! What are you doing?" Baldwin demanded, his voice calm but carrying a dangerous edge.

One of the men glanced back, sneering. "Boss, the kid's still alive!"

"Damn it! Finish him off already!" the leader barked.

A burly man stepped forward, gripping a sharp knife. He grinned as he approached Baldwin. "You should've stayed down, brat. Would've been easier for you."

Baldwin sat up slowly, feigning fear. "Uncle... who... who are you? Please don't kill me... Uncle, please..." he stammered, playing the part of a helpless child.

The man laughed cruelly. "A stupid, weak little clown! Should've stayed quiet when you had the chance!"

He swung the knife toward Baldwin. The blade moved fast, but Baldwin shifted effortlessly, avoiding the strike. His eyes hardened, and he asked again, his tone unchanged, "Uncle, who are you?"

The man growled in frustration. "You brat! You're annoying to hit! Fine, I'll tell you! We're from the *Sunrise Group*. Your mom's gonna be our plaything, and your little sister? She's getting sold off to the highest bidder."

Baldwin's expression darkened. He raised a single finger and pointed at the man. "Be proud, for the Demon King raises his finger to finish you. May your life be fruitful, and may all your sins return to you."

A faint red spark flickered at the tip of his finger, and in the blink of an eye, the man exploded like a balloon, leaving nothing behind but a mist of blood.

The room fell silent. The remaining men stared at Baldwin, horrified.

The leader's voice wavered. "W-What is this kid?!"

"You should count yourselves lucky," Baldwin said, his voice cold, "that I'm merciful enough to let your end come swiftly."

He pointed his finger toward the floor. Shadows began spreading outward, creeping like ink across the wooden surface. In an instant, shadowy hands emerged, writhing and clawing, reaching for the men.

The group screamed as the shadowy hands seized them, pulling them down as though they were drowning in quicksand. One by one, they disappeared into the darkness, their cries echoing until there was silence.

Baldwin stood amidst the eerie quiet, the shadows retreating back into the ground. His calm demeanor returned as he looked at Olivia, who sat trembling in the corner.

"Are you all right?" Baldwin asked gently, his voice now kind.

She nodded shakily, unable to speak.

"Good," Baldwin said, turning his gaze toward the unconscious woman. "Let's take care of your mother."