GameDev Reincarnated into His Own Creation

Vol 2 - Chapter 27: Remote Occurrence

Landre felt a growing unease in her chest. The reports had mentioned strange illness and disturbing dreams, but nothing about an empty village.

As they continued down the silent path, Landre noticed a thin plume of smoke rising from a larger building at the village center. Unlike the dying fires in the homes, this chimney released a steady stream that suggested active tending.

"The community hall," Sarvin said, nodding toward the building. "Someone's there."

Landre studied the structure—the only building showing any sign of life in this ghost of a village. Windows glowed with warm light from within, a sharp contrast to the abandoned homes surrounding it.

"Let's proceed carefully," she said, straightening her shoulders and once again becoming Saint Landre, servant of Shizka's light.

Landre approached the community hall, her steps measured and deliberate. The building loomed before them, ordinary in every way except for being the only structure showing signs of occupation. The smoke continued to rise steadily from the chimney, promising warmth and perhaps answers within.

Sarvin raised his hand, signaling for Landre and Imelda to remain several paces back. His other hand rested on his sword hilt as he moved toward the heavy wooden door.

"Stay behind me," he instructed, his voice low but firm.

Landre nodded, feeling her heartbeat quicken beneath her composed exterior.

Sarvin raised his fist and delivered three firm knocks that echoed through the silent village.

No response came from within. Not a footstep, not a voice, not even a shuffling sound.

They exchanged glances, uncertainty reflected in each other's eyes before returning their attention to the door.

Sarvin knocked again, louder this time, the sound almost violent in the unnatural quiet.

Still, silence answered them.

"There must be someone inside," Landre said, gesturing toward the chimney. "That fire didn't light itself."

The smoke continued its steady ascent into the gray sky, mocking their confusion with its evidence of human presence.

Sarvin's jaw tightened as he reached for the iron handle. He pushed against the door, which swung inward without resistance. It hadn't been locked or barred—another unsettling detail in this mystery.

Landre peered past Sarvin's shoulder. The hall stood empty, rows of benches arranged neatly as if awaiting a gathering that never came. A large hearth dominated the far wall, flames dancing brightly within it, well-tended and fed with fresh logs.

But no one tended it. No one sat on the benches. No one stood in the shadows.

Sarvin turned back to Landre, his expression grave. He raised his hand in a clear gesture.

"Stay outside," he commanded. "Both of you. I'll check it first."

Landre watched as Sarvin disappeared into the community hall, her heart pounding despite her outward calm. The silence felt suffocating, broken only by the sound of Imelda's nervous breathing beside her. Moments stretched like hours as they waited for the Crusader's return.

Suddenly, the door flew open. Sarvin's face was grim, his usual stoic expression replaced with barely concealed urgency.

"Saint Landre, please come in quickly," he said, his voice tight.