GameDev Reincarnated into His Own Creation

Vol 2 - Chapter 27: Remote Occurrence

"They're avoiding the light," Landre realized aloud, her mind racing with implications.

The withered man who had lunged at her moments before scrambled backward, shielding his eyes like a child fleeing from a monster. He turned and ran into the mine, rejoining the others in the shadows.

More figures appeared at the mine entrance, pressing forward until they filled the opening completely—the entire missing population, transformed into these shadow-seeking husks.

These were people—mothers, fathers, children—all reduced to hollow vessels for something unnatural. The light sphere above her palm pulsed with her heartbeat.

"Saint Landre," Sarvin said firmly, backing toward her while keeping his sword raised, "we must leave. Now."

Landre's heart ached as she watched the withered man crawl toward his transformed brethren. "We can't just abandon them. There must be something we can do."

The faces before her blurred with memories of Oakhaven—of neighbors and friends she couldn't save. Was this to be another failure? Another village lost while she retreated to safety?

"Whatever these people were, they're gone now," Sarvin replied, his voice gentle despite its urgency. "Look at their eyes. There's nothing human left there."

She forced herself to look—truly look—at the vacant stares, the mechanical movements. The light of her magic revealed what she hadn't wanted to see: emptiness where souls should be. These weren't people anymore, just shells occupied by something else.

"Saint Landre, please!" Imelda pleaded, already backing toward the village path. "You cannot hold this light forever."

The strain of maintaining the sphere was already burning through her reserves. Sweat beaded on her forehead despite the mountain chill.

Landre closed her eyes briefly, a silent prayer passing through her mind. When she opened them again, her expression had hardened with resolve.

"Fall back," she commanded. "Toward the carriage."

They moved in careful formation, Sarvin keeping himself between Landre and the transformed villagers. As they retreated down the main village path, Landre noticed movement from the houses they'd thought were empty. Shadows shifted behind windows. Doors creaked open.

Her breath caught. "They were at the mine... How are they here already?"

More withered figures emerged from doorways and alleys, their movements synchronized like marionettes controlled by a single hand. They were being surrounded.

"Run!" Sarvin shouted, abandoning caution as the transformed villagers surged forward like a wave of shadow.

Landre cast her light sphere into their midst, buying precious seconds as the creatures recoiled from its brilliance. Then she gathered her robes and ran, following Sarvin and Imelda toward the waiting carriage.

Landre's heart pounded in her chest as they fled through the village. The withered figures emerged from every shadow, their movements unnaturally synchronized as they closed in around them.

"GET THE CARRIAGE READY!" Sarvin bellowed ahead to the driver, his voice cutting through the eerie silence of the village.

The driver's eyes widened at the sight of the horde behind them, his hands fumbling with the reins as he prepared for immediate departure. The horses stamped nervously, sensing the wrongness in the air.

Sarvin raised his sword skyward.

"Divine Blade!" he called out, his voice resonating with power.

Brilliant light cascaded down the length of his blade, transforming the steel into a beacon of radiance. Sarvin held the glowing weapon high, keeping the withered villagers at bay as Landre and Imelda reached the carriage.

"Quickly, Saint Landre!" Imelda held the carriage door open, her face pale with fear.

Landre hesitated, looking back at the village.

"We cannot help them now," Imelda insisted, reading her thoughts. "We must bring word to the Church."

With a heavy heart, Landre gathered her robes and climbed into the carriage. Imelda followed immediately after, pulling the door shut behind them with trembling hands.

Sarvin drove his sword deep into the ground. The blade flared brighter, creating a temporary barrier of light that held the creatures back, buying time for his retreat to the carriage. He climbed onto the driver's bench just as the barrier began to flicker.

"Go!" he commanded, and the driver snapped the reins.

The carriage lurched forward, wheels clattering against the stone path as they fled the village. Landre looked out the small window, watching as the distance between them and the transformed villagers grew.

Then it happened—a wave pulsed outward from the direction of the mine. Not physical, not visible, but Landre felt it crash through her like a tide of emotion. Pure, undiluted anger washed over her, so intense it stole her breath, and she staggered back against the carriage seat.

But beneath that rage was something else. A cold dread, a terrible familiarity that made her own hands feel like ice. It was the same chilling emptiness that had once coiled in her own heart.

The realization struck her with sickening clarity. The cliff. That day, when something dark had taken root inside her, whispering promises of release.

This feeling... I've felt it before.