They continue their ascent to the mountaintop. The mist thickened as they ascended, clinging to their skin with a cold, damp touch. The visibility became harder, only the forward path can be seen.
Kevin walked at the front, but he kept glancing over his shoulder—at Lira.
She held Celize's hand calmly, her expression composed even though minutes earlier they'd been ambushed twice by creatures capable of killing grown hunters.
It wasn't normal.
Kevin narrowed his eyes. Kids don't react like that.
Another few steps. The wind carried the faint smell of incense.
Incense? There might be a temple at the top since they worship a god or at least what the villagers thought, Kevin thought.
He looked again at Lira.
She met his gaze for a brief second—just a small, fleeting glance—but her eyes… flickered. Not with fear.
Kevin felt a chill push down his spine.
But Celize held her protectively, and Sallie remained focused, unaware. Saying anything now would only cause panic, and they were already too high up to retreat easily.
So Kevin stayed quiet.
And they kept climbing.
They reached the summit just as the sky turned pale silver. The mist here was thicker than fog—more like a barrier, a veil hiding the entire mountaintop. Kevin couldn't see ten steps ahead.
Then the mist thinned just enough for something massive to appear—first as a silhouette, then as a shape.
A wall.
Then another.
Smooth stone, towering nearly three meters high, forming the perimeter of a colossal temple structure that had been invisible until they were nearly touching it.
What shocked Kevin and Celize was that they were actually in front of the temple gate already.
Celize exhaled in awe. "A… temple? How can something this big stay hidden…?"
Kevin stepped closer, fingertips brushing the cold surface. "Mist. Illusion. Concealment. Whatever this place is, it was never meant to be seen from below."
Before anyone could speak again—
Creeeeak.
The massive gate split open.
Kevin flinched and instinctively reached for his dagger. His entire body screamed run, a primal alarm ringing through every instinct he possessed.
But he didn't run.
He looked at Celize beside him.
He couldn't run without her.
All of a sudden, Lira, the tiny girl they thought they were protecting, walked forward confidently through the open gate without hesitation.
"Lira—!" Celize called.
But the girl didn't stop.
Kevin followed, because what choice did he have? Celize and Sallie trailed behind him.
The moment all four stepped inside—
BOOM.
The gate slammed shut behind them.
Sallie remained expressionless, held her staff upward, ready to cast a spell if needed.
Celize spun around. "What—?! Lira?!"
But the girl had vanished.
Mist filled the compound. They couldn't see more than shadows in the haze.
Then slowly—like curtains being drawn in reverse—the mist receded.
Figures materialized.
Rows and rows of villagers, lined up neatly beside the stone pathway, dressed in white ceremonial clothing. Men, women, elders, children—all kneeling with their heads bowed.
Celize whispered, "The whole village…"
Kevin's grip tightened. He said nothing.
At the end of the pathway, a monk stepped forward from inside the temple—clad in simple robes, his face composed, serene. His voice carried across the temple grounds with uncanny clarity.
"All kneel in Lord Kelya's presence."
No one moved.
Not Kevin.
Not Celize.
Not Sallie.
Not with the massive presence they now felt from behind the monk.
A small figure walked out of the temple and approached the pathway.
It was Lira.
But the moment she stepped into view, Kevin knew the façade had ended.
Her smile held no innocence. Her eyes glowed faintly with an unnatural light.
"Since the guests have arrived," she said, her voice layered with something far too powerful for a child's throat, "let the Blood Harvest begin."
Celize's eyes widened in horror. "Lira…"
"The sacred pact must be upheld," the girl—no, the mountain god—continued. "Bring me their hearts, and your land will be prosperous for another year."
The kneeling villagers lifted their heads.
Their expressions were full of sorrow. Even shame.
But also steel-hard resolve.
They picked up their weapons—axes, sickles, farming tools, hunting spears worn smooth with use. Their hands trembled, yet their purposeful steps made clear they were ready to kill.
"For… our families…" one whispered.
"For the harvest…" murmured another.
"For the Lord Kelya…" whispered a trembling old man as he raised his wooden spear.
Celize tugged on Kevin's sleeve, voice breaking. "Don't kill them, Kevin. They're just ordinary people. They don't have a choice."
Kevin exhaled sharply. "I'll try."
But the villagers gave him no time to think.
The first one charged—a middle-aged hunter with an axe. Tears streamed down his face.
"I'm sorry," he said hoarsely, even as he swung at Kevin's neck.
Kevin ducked beneath the axe, the blade slicing only mist. He swept the man's legs with a quick kick—not enough to break anything, just enough to drop him. The hunter fell hard, and Kevin tapped the back of his neck with the blunt end of his dagger, knocking him unconscious.
Another villager rushed him with a rusted spear. Kevin sidestepped, grabbed the shaft, twisted it from the man's hands, and spun it around to jab the man lightly in the stomach. The villager collapsed, gasping but alive.
More came.
Women with sickles, teenagers with short blades, even an elderly man wielding a fire poker like a sword. Their strikes weren't precise, but desperation gave them strength, and grief sharpened their resolve. They swung wildly, some crying, some shouting prayers for forgiveness.
Kevin moved like a shadow between them.
Dodging.
Redirecting.
Disarming without maiming.
He used the flat of his blade, his elbows, his knees—anything nonlethal. He twisted wrists to drop weapons, kicked knees just enough to buckle but not to break, struck pressure points that dropped villagers unconscious.
Sallie supported him, sweeping her staff in arcs that emitted soft green pulses—nonlethal waves pushing villagers back or knocking them unconscious without harm.
Celize stayed behind Sallie, feeling useless even with Kevin's words last night. She wanted to be useful, but she didn't know how.
Within minutes, the villagers lay scattered across the stone ground—breathing, unconscious, but alive.
The monk had not moved an inch.
Nor had Lira—Lord Kelya.
She stared, displeased.
"I expected nothing of those useless mortals," she said coldly. "They even let me lure you here. Now they cannot even kill the guests."
She turned to the monk. "Your turn. Kill them."
The monk bowed deeply. "As you command, Lord Kelya."