Chapter 16: The Missing People
It was early morning when Rhaizen left the inn. The town looked calm on the surface, but now that he was paying attention, he could see the worry in people's eyes. Some whispered in groups, some ran errands faster than normal, and some avoided the outskirts entirely.
He remembered the elder's request from the night before:
Help us understand what's happening.
Rhaizen had already decided—he wouldn't leave yet. Not while the town was slowly falling apart.
He walked toward the town hall, his footsteps steady but quiet. The sun wasn't high yet, and the streets had fewer people than usual. A few guards stood around, half awake, leaning on their spears.
When Rhaizen reached the town hall doors, Elder Jonas was already waiting outside with a stack of papers.
"You came early," the elder said with a tired smile.
"I want to start now," Rhaizen replied.
Elder Jonas nodded, motioning him inside. The town hall wasn't big. Most of the building was made of rough stone and old wood, with a long table and shelves full of scrolls. They sat at the table, and the elder laid out multiple records.
"These are the names of everyone who disappeared within the last month," Jonas said. "Eighteen people in total."
Rhaizen scanned the names. Most were adults, some were teenagers, one was a child. He noticed something else.
"None of these happened in the morning or afternoon?"
Jonas shook his head. "Always at night. Usually past midnight."
Rhaizen narrowed his eyes.
"And always near the outskirts," the elder added, pointing to shaded areas on a rough map. Small red marks circled farms, abandoned houses, and forest edges.
Rhaizen tapped one of the marks. "This place… this is close to the area where the Crimson Fang bandits first attacked, right?"
"Yes," Jonas answered quietly. "But the missing people showed no signs of resistance. No blood, no screams. They just… left."
Rhaizen placed the paper down slowly.
People don't just walk into the forest willingly at night.
Not unless something forces them.
---
Interviewing the Families
Rhaizen left the hall with a list of names and locations. Elder Jonas stayed behind to search through older records. Rhaizen went door to door, talking to families and anyone connected to those who vanished.
The first house belonged to an older couple. Their son, around twenty, disappeared two weeks ago.
The mother opened the door with tired eyes. "You're the young man helping the town… right?"
"Yes. I need to ask about what happened to your son."
She let him inside. The home was small and quiet. Blankets were folded neatly, candles burned low. The father sat in a chair, staring at the floor.
The mother spoke first. "He didn't struggle. He didn't look scared. He just… walked out."
Rhaizen frowned. "Did he say anything?"
"No," she whispered. "His eyes were empty. Like he wasn't there anymore."
The father finally looked up, voice shaking. "He was controlled. I don't care what the town thinks—he wasn't acting on his own."
Rhaizen clenched his jaw slightly. Controlled… It reminded him of the way some bandits followed orders without hesitation, but this felt deeper, almost unnatural.
He stood and bowed slightly. "I'll do what I can."
The mother grabbed his sleeve before he left.
"Please… bring him back if he's alive."
Rhaizen didn't promise. He only nodded.
---
The second house was smaller and worn down. A family of three lived there, and the missing person was the daughter, sixteen years old.
The father answered the door, nervous and sweating.
"You're looking for answers? Fine. Come in."
Inside, the room was messy, papers on tables, blankets on the floor. The father seemed angry—not at Rhaizen, but at himself.
"I didn't see her leave," he said, rubbing his face. "But I heard… voices."
"What kind of voices?" Rhaizen asked.
"Like chanting. Low… repeating words I couldn't understand." He swallowed. "By the time I checked her room, she was gone. The door was still closed. No signs of force."
Rhaizen leaned forward. "Did you look outside?"
"Yes. There were footprints. More than one set. She wasn't alone."
This confirmed it—not random disappearances. A group was taking people.
Rhaizen stood. "Thank you. Stay inside at night."
The father nodded, fear growing behind his eyes.
---
Clues at the Outskirts
After interviewing several more families, Rhaizen walked toward the northern edge of the town. The ground there was uneven, grass flattened, dirt disturbed.
He crouched down and looked closely.
Footprints.
Different sizes, different depth. Some light, some heavy. All leading toward the forest.
He followed them a short way before he found something else—torn rope on the ground. Not rope that ties someone in place, but rope that looked like it had been tied to someone and then cut.
"Someone was carried or dragged…"
He walked further and found markings on the nearest tree.
Strange curved symbols carved into the bark.
Not random. Not graffiti.
Symbols… like the ones he saw when he fought the Shadow Veins scout.
He brushed his fingers across the marks. They felt smooth, as if carved slowly with intention.
"These symbols must be part of whatever controls them."
A cold wind passed through the trees, making branches shake lightly. The forest felt quiet—too quiet.
Rhaizen stepped back.
He didn't have enough strength right now to fight an entire group alone. For now, he needed to observe, learn, and follow quietly.
---
Night Comes
Rhaizen spent the day preparing:
He memorized the path of footprints
He marked locations where symbols appeared
He planned escape routes if outnumbered
He rested, keeping his Qi steady
By nightfall, the town became silent. Only a few torches lit the streets. Rhaizen wrapped himself in a dark cloak, lowered his breathing, and went to the north road.
He sat behind a broken fence on a small hill overlooking the path. The sky was dim, clouds covering the moon. Perfect for stealth.
Minutes passed. Then an hour.
He stayed still, eyes sharp.
Then—movement.
A lone villager walked down the path, slow and robotic, eyes unfocused. His steps were steady but empty, as if he didn't know where he was going.
Rhaizen leaned forward slightly.
Not long after, two figures emerged from the shadows behind the villager—tall, robed, silent. They moved without sound, guiding him farther into the forest.
Exactly like the reports.
Rhaizen's eyes narrowed.
There they are.
He stood, shifting his weight and preparing to follow.
Just as he stepped off the hill…
One of the robed figures turned its head slightly, as if sensing something.
Rhaizen froze.
The figure did not speak. It simply raised a hand, making a faint motion toward the villager.
The villager stopped walking.
Everything fell silent.
Rhaizen slowly lowered himself back behind the fence, keeping hidden. The figures resumed walking, pulling the villager deeper into the forest.
Rhaizen exhaled slowly.
This isn't random. They know exactly who they want. And they move like trained warriors.
He stepped into the shadows, preparing to follow them into the trees.
The night wind blew through the grass, and the darkness swallowed the path ahead.
The hunt had begun.
Rhaizen followed from a distance, keeping his steps light. The forest was silent, only the sound of leaves brushing against each other. He kept his breathing steady, lowering his presence the way his old master once taught him.
Walk only when the wind moves.
Step only where shadows fall.
He watched the three figures ahead carefully. The villager walked like a puppet—arms loose, movements stiff. The robed figures didn't touch him, yet he followed as if pulled by invisible strings.
Rhaizen narrowed his eyes.
Mind influence. Or spiritual control.
The forest grew denser the deeper they moved. Moonlight faded behind branches. The air smelled damp and cold. After several minutes of tracking, Rhaizen stopped behind a thick tree as the group entered a clearing surrounded by stone pillars.
But the pillars weren't natural.
Each one was carved with the same sharp symbols he saw earlier—circles intersecting with lines, forming patterns around a flat stone at the center.
A ritual site.
The villagers stood at the center, motionless. One robed figure placed his hand on the man's neck. The other knelt, pressing a palm to the carved symbols.
Rhaizen tightened his grip on the tree.
If I move now, I'm fighting both, possibly more. I can't attack blind.
He needed information.
So he listened.
He closed his eyes, letting his senses spread out—focusing on Qi vibration instead of sound. Whisper-like energy pulsed through the clearing. Not strong, but dark and cold.
That wasn't normal cultivation.
It felt like Qi deliberately molded to suppress resistance. It didn't empower—it controlled.
Suddenly, the chanting became louder, and the villager collapsed to his knees, trembling.
His voice cracked.
"H-help… someone…"
For a moment, he was conscious again.
Rhaizen stepped forward instinctively—
—but stopped when the nearest robed figure snapped his fingers.
The man's eyes went empty once more.
The ritual continued.
Rhaizen clenched his jaw hard enough to hurt. His body shook with frustration. He could take two enemies easily. Three with effort. But if there were more nearby? If this was only one of several sites?
I can't save one person and lose the whole town.
He forced himself to step back, hiding deeper in the shadows.
Not now. Not yet.
The robed figures finished marking the villager with a glowing red symbol on his wrist. When they stood, one spoke in a calm, quiet voice:
"Another one prepared. Send him before dawn."
The second nodded, tightening his cloak. "The harvest is almost enough. The Rite will begin soon."
Harvest.
Rite.
Rhaizen's blood ran cold.
The figures turned and guided the villager back toward the forest path—heading deeper, not returning to town.
Rhaizen followed them until he knew the direction clearly, then stopped.
He couldn't follow forever tonight.
He needed help. He needed information. He needed a plan.
He clenched his fists.
This is bigger than disappearances. They're gathering people for something massive.
Something destructive.
Something coordinated.
---
Rhaizen returned to Ashveil just before dawn. The torchlights burned low and the streets were empty.
Despite the cold air, sweat dripped down his neck.
He had fought bandits before.
He had fought for survival.
But this… this was organized and intentional. A group with rituals, symbols, goals—and power.
He walked past dark windows and locked doors. The silence felt heavier now. Every house he passed might lose someone next.
If I don't act soon, more will vanish.
If I'm too reckless, I'll die before learning the truth.
He reached his inn room and closed the door quietly.
He removed his cloak, sat on the bed, and stared at his hands.
"I can't save them if I don't understand what I'm up against."
His voice was low and steady.
He looked out the window. The sky was still dark, but hints of light crept over the horizon.
Today, he would speak to Elder Jonas again.
He wouldn't just report findings—he would demand answers.
---
As dawn finally broke, Rhaizen stood and tightened his cloak. He grabbed his map, tied his hair, and stepped out the door, eyes sharp.
He had made up his mind.
He wouldn't simply defend the town.
He would hunt the source.
He would break the ritual.
He would stop the Shadow Veins—no matter how far he had to follow them.
But before that… he needed to confront Elder Jonas.
If the town had records, hidden history, or past incidents—now he needed them more than ever.
He stepped into the morning air.
"Ashveil won't fall while I'm here."
His footsteps echoed down the empty street.
The hunt continued.