The night was heavy with darkness as Ray Quinn struggled under the weight of the injured Ethan Hess, stepping forward cautiously and deliberately. The silence in the town was oppressive, as if the surrounding shadows were pressing down on them, making it hard to breathe. Ray scanned their surroundings with watchful eyes, forcing himself to stay calm and alert.
Ethan's wound continued to bleed, though the strange healing force that had briefly stabilized him was now faltering. Ray knew they couldn't afford to linger, and he couldn't ignore the looming dangers that filled the town despite the temporary lull in the bell's tolling. Each step forward, Ray felt as though dangers lurked in the shadows, waiting for them to let down their guard.
"Damn it…" Ray cursed softly, sweat covering his brow as he felt Ethan's weight growing heavier. Panting slightly, he worried internally, trying to calculate how to get Ethan to a safe place as quickly as possible. Yet the town seemed like a giant maze, trapping them inside with no clear way out.
Suddenly, a deep, rhythmic chanting echoed in the distance, as if rising from the depths of the darkness with an ancient, sinister rhythm. Ray's heart clenched as he felt the ominous sound drawing closer, carrying with it an unspoken threat.
Ray held his breath, gripping Ethan tightly, determined not to be distracted by the eerie chanting. The surrounding darkness deepened, seeming to grow thicker as the sound approached, until it was almost impossible to make out the ground beneath their feet. He sensed that the sound carried an otherworldly power, like an invisible web tightening around them with each step.
"We can't stop…" Ray muttered to himself, trying to maintain his resolve. But the power radiating from the chant began to seep into his mind, stirring a faint sense of panic.
Just then, Ethan's body trembled slightly as though the chant's influence was reviving his consciousness. Noticing the change, Ray whispered, "Ethan, are you awake?"
Ethan struggled to open his eyes, his gaze still somewhat unfocused, but as his surroundings came into focus, his expression sharpened. Though his wound was still healing, his strength was far from recovered. Steadying himself, he spoke weakly but firmly, "That sound… we can't let it get closer."
Ray nodded, feeling a bit relieved but still on high alert. Supporting Ethan, they moved swiftly and silently through the darkness, trying to distance themselves from the sinister chant. As they quickened their pace, Ray could feel the pressure around them intensify, like countless unseen eyes watching their every move.
"This way… the girl is in that direction…" Ethan managed to point, his hand shaky but certain.
Ray followed Ethan's direction with a determined look. Adjusting their path, he steadied Ethan and whispered, "Hang in there; we're almost there."
As they moved deeper into the darkened alleyways, the surrounding shadows seemed to grow thicker, as though preparing to swallow them whole. The strange chanting grew faster, as if urging something ancient and malevolent to awaken. Ray's steps were careful, each one placed with quiet precision, though he could feel faint tremors beneath his feet, as if some power was slowly surging from below.
"We're close…" Ethan's voice was faint, yet his resolve was unyielding.
Ray nodded slightly, taking a deep breath to suppress his rising tension. He adjusted his steps to match Ethan's, ensuring that they moved as one to avoid making any unnecessary noise. The alley they navigated was narrow and shadowy, with patches of moss-covered walls shifting in the dark like ghostly figures, threatening to reveal something lurking within.
Through the darkness, Ray made out the outline of a ruin ahead, the air around them thickening with an almost suffocating pressure. He whispered, "Is she in there?"
Ethan nodded, his voice weak yet resolute, "Yes, she's inside…"
Gritting his teeth, Ray steadied Ethan, his gaze fierce and unyielding. "Alright, let's go in."
Ethan placed a hand on the door, releasing a deep, dark light from his palm that rippled like water, seeping into the wooden panels. The black light spread quickly, enveloping the entire door. As the light shimmered, the markings and runes on the door seemed to awaken, vibrating slightly.
"It's ready. We can go in," Ethan whispered, gesturing for Ray to enter first.
Ray carefully pushed the door open. As he took a step inside, a shadow suddenly flickered before him, and a powerful force rushed toward him—
"Wham!" A wooden staff swung down on him, and though Ray quickly dodged, it grazed his shoulder with enough force to make him wince in pain. Looking up, he saw Nina standing in the room, clutching the staff tightly, her expression terrified and guarded, clearly mistaking him for an enemy.
"Nina!" Ray called out, raising his hands to show he meant no harm. "It's me!"
Nina froze, her grip on the staff loosening as she recognized him. The staff clattered to the ground, and she threw herself at Ray, her voice trembling with relief and disbelief. "Ray? Is it really you?"
Ray reached out to hold her steadily, murmuring reassurances in her ear. "It's me. Don't worry; you're safe now." His voice was gentle yet firm, filled with a comforting strength.
Nina looked up at his face, her expression still haunted, tears slipping down her cheeks. Her voice trembled with a mixture of relief and lingering fear. "I thought… I thought I'd never see you again…"
Ray gently patted her back, trying to calm her. "Don't worry; we're getting out of here. I even brought some backup."
He stepped aside, gesturing to Ethan, who was breathing heavily. Though pale, Ethan maintained a calm expression and nodded to Nina.
Nina glanced at Ethan in surprise. "It's you…"
"This place should be safe for now. We need to rest here for a while…" Ethan said quietly.
Ray nodded in agreement. He inspected the room, carefully checking the doors and windows to ensure no threats could easily break in. Satisfied, he helped Nina sit down, speaking softly to reassure her. "We'll stay here for a bit. Just rest."
Still looking shaken, Nina nodded slightly but couldn't hide her worry. "Are we… really safe here?"
Leaning against the wall, Ethan took a moment to steady his breathing, his voice calm and resolute. "For now, we're safe. The barrier here should shield us from any disturbances outside. But we can't stay long." He glanced at his wound, now partially healed, though the energy spent on recovery had clearly taken its toll.
Ray regarded Ethan with suspicion and curiosity. "Tell me, how much are you hiding? How much do you know about this place?"
Ethan looked back at Ray, his gaze steady. After a long silence, he replied in a low voice, "The secrets here run deeper than you realize. This town… it may look abandoned, but it's sealed by a powerful force, concealing an ancient ritual."
Ray frowned, looking at him in disbelief. "A ritual? So we're just… sacrifices?" His voice was low, filled with restrained anger.
"Perhaps more than just sacrifices." Ethan's tone was laced with coldness. "Some people were drawn here, not by chance, but by a pull stronger than their will. The ritual demands specific souls, bloodlines, and… sacrifices." His gaze darkened, as though burdened by a past too deep to reveal.
Ray's eyes widened, suspicion and wariness filling his gaze. "So… were you drawn here as well? Or… do you play a role in all of this?"
Ethan offered a faint smile, one that held bitterness and resignation. "I didn't choose to be a part of this, but certain things were set into motion long ago—over a century, in fact."
Ray's expression hardened, his mistrust growing. "Over a century? What… are you?"
Lowering his head, Ethan seemed to ponder his words, a shadow of pain crossing his face. "I'm… just a man bound by the sins of the past," he replied quietly, his tone laden with sorrow. "The ties of fate from a hundred years ago… were not my choice. But this destiny has brought me here, to face what must be reckoned with."
Ray's brow furrowed, his unease mounting. "So what part do you play in this twisted ritual? Is this town… all of this… connected to you?"
Ethan raised his head, his gaze filled with profound sadness and resolve. "My role is simply to lift this curse and bring it to an end. No matter what the cost… I can't turn back."
Listening to Ethan's words, Ray's caution remained, but something in him softened. "So you're willing to face it all and walk into this disaster waiting for you?"
Ethan nodded solemnly, his voice heavy and determined. "It's not about choice. I can't escape this. It's my only chance for redemption."
With a sigh, Ethan looked at Ray's cautious expression, sensing his lingering suspicion. "Alright… let me tell you a story…"
"Long ago, in a thriving town where the residents lived in peace… until one day… someone arrived," Ethan's voice was low, carrying an inexplicable sorrow. "This person wandered from place to place, searching for somewhere to stay, even if only for a while…" His gaze fell into the distance, as though his mind had traveled back to that forgotten past.
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Winter of 1922, in an unnamed northern village.
The village lay blanketed in snow, and the air, though frigid, carried the comforting warmth of burning firewood. Despite the harsh winter, the village bustled with life; every household had smoke rising from its chimney, and children in thick coats chased each other, filling the air with the warmth of simple human joy.
A man in a tattered cloak trudged through the snow, his lone figure trudging solemnly, as if out of place in this peaceful world. His steps were heavy, his face lined with the hardships of time, exuding a weariness that could only come from a life battered by hardship. This man, named Douglas Hess, had been wandering from place to place, searching for somewhere he could finally rest.
The country was in turmoil at the time, torn by countless civil wars between warlords. He said he had escaped from a city to reach this remote place, and the villagers, seeing his worn state, were filled with pity. They brought him food, warm clothes, and offered him a small cabin so he could survive the winter. At first, Douglas kept a cautious distance from the villagers, but gradually, he began to settle into the village's quiet rhythm.
During that time, Douglas adapted to life in the village. He helped the villagers repair their tools and occasionally told the local children stories of the outside world at the small village school. Though he remained reserved, his diligence and kindness endeared him to the villagers. They affectionately began to call him "Mr. Hess," and some jokingly suggested he should stay and become a permanent part of their community.
When spring came, the snow melted, and buds appeared on the village trees while the fields began to sprout. Douglas would often join the villagers in planting, chopping firewood, and attending village festivities. During those days, he seemed to truly become one of them, with a rare smile occasionally gracing his face, as though his long-standing loneliness had finally been dispelled by these kind people.
As the years passed, Douglas helped more and more of the villagers, and the village children came to see him as a trusted elder, often following him around and asking him to tell them stories of the wider world. His days passed in this peaceful way until 1931, when the news of the invasion by the Imperial Army shattered the village's tranquility.
During those turbulent years, the shadow of the invading forces loomed over the land, destroying the peace Douglas had found in the village.
The arrival of the Imperial Army was like the onset of a nightmare, engulfing the village in bloodshed and flames. Soldiers roamed the streets with impunity, burning, killing, and plundering indiscriminately, turning the once-peaceful village into a scene of hellish carnage. Villagers scattered, screams and cries of despair echoing all around.
Seeing the horror, Douglas quickly led some of the elderly, women, and children into the nearby mountains, taking hidden trails to evade the army's pursuit. He did his best to protect those behind him, but he knew his strength was limited; he couldn't save everyone in the village. Every time he looked back, he saw the flames staining the sky red, bearing silent witness to the despair and helplessness of countless lives.
The Imperial Army was not content with looting and killing; soon, they established a secret base outside the village and began conducting dark experiments. The remaining villagers were captured, becoming sacrificial subjects in horrific experiments, their agonized cries and whispers drifting out of the base, haunting Douglas's heart.
In the cold forest, the hiding villagers survived on meager rations of food and water as Douglas guarded them night and day. Yet deep within, guilt and helplessness gnawed at him relentlessly.
On one quiet, freezing night, as the villagers huddled in a cave, exhausted and hollow-eyed from despair, Douglas stood guard at the entrance. The children were silent, clutching tightly to their mothers, crying soundlessly.
Douglas knew his responsibility yet felt his utter powerlessness. Every night, he would silently rise and look down toward the village below. From the base came the arrogant calls of the soldiers and the tormented cries of the villagers—sounds that pierced him like knives, depriving him of rest.
"They're waiting there… and I'm just hiding here." He clenched his fists, his eyes cold and full of guilt. He had devised countless rescue plans, but the Imperial Army was too strong, with ironclad defenses, and those he was protecting were elderly and weak, unable to fight back. Yet, despite his limitations, the rage and pain within him burned, making it impossible for him to stand by and do nothing.
One night, when the army's brutality became unbearable, he finally made up his mind. He approached the villagers and said quietly, "I'm going to the village… I'll do whatever I can to save those being held."
Some of the elder villagers looked at him in shock, shaking their heads gently. "Douglas, that's suicide… how can one person stand against them? We've already lost too many; we can't lose you too."
"I know," Douglas replied, his gaze firm. "But I can't just watch them suffer. If I do nothing, then… what meaning is there in all this pain?"
The night was dark as ink, his footsteps almost soundless as he slipped through the shadows, blending into the darkness. Each step carried the weight of his resolve, and his unquenchable fury. In the distance, the lights of the Imperial base flickered, illuminating his dangerous path.
No one knew exactly what happened that night. Only the rescued villagers later spoke of it, their voices trembling as they recounted the tale. According to them, the silence of the night was shattered by gunfire, interspersed with gut-wrenching screams and cries of agony. At first, the gunfire roared like thunder, instilling fear in all who heard it, as if the entire base had plunged into chaos and terror.
But as time passed, the gunfire gradually dwindled, and the screams faded, one by one, into the cold night air, until silence blanketed the base. It was a haunting silence, as though countless souls were whispering in torment. The base, shrouded in a somber stillness, felt as if death itself had swept through, silencing everything.
When the first light of dawn crept over the mountain, the villagers cautiously approached the remains of the base. What they saw was a landscape of carnage and blood, as if last night's nightmare had been frozen in reality. No one from the Imperial Army survived; an eerie presence seemed to linger in the air, and Douglas's figure had disappeared into the blood-drenched shadows, as if he had never existed.
The villagers stood in silence before the ruins, their faces filled with fear and confusion. The truth of that night faded away with the mist, and Douglas Hess's name became a legend. Some said he had singlehandedly defeated the entire force, wielding a power akin to sorcery. Others claimed he had become a vengeful spirit, haunting the base and dragging the invaders' souls into the darkness. But the truth remained unknown.
In the days that followed, the villagers continued to live cautiously, and the base became a forbidden place. Strange sounds echoed there at night, resembling the murmurs of restless souls. The elders began to pray, burning incense to honor the dead and to ask for peace for Douglas Hess, the foreigner who had once protected their village.
The village was renamed "Everstar Village" in his honor, a tribute to the spirit of sacrifice he embodied. The villagers revered and thanked the hero who had come from afar, though they knew well that the bloodshed and mysteries of that night were not to be spoken of lightly.
As the years passed, tales of Everstar Village began to spread. People said that if you lingered near the ruins at dusk, you might hear low, sorrowful murmurs from afar, whispers that some claimed were Douglas Hess's spirit guarding the land, or perhaps the bitter wails of the soldiers who had fallen there. Gradually, the ruins of the base became a forbidden zone, where only the village's elders continued to burn incense, honoring the past that had been hidden from the world.