The return trip home was uneventful. Zephyr clutched the machete he had picked up tightly as they alighted from the boat. The weapon had saved his life. He felt like he should hold onto it since the danger had not passed.
As they were walking out of the dock gloomily, Zephyr noticed a group of people walking towards them.
For some reason, the moment he saw them, he felt his chest tighten.
Five of them had gone in search of the missing person. But only four had returned.
How could he explain that?
And would they even care about his explanation?
Zephyr had the image of a high and mighty mage in the eyes of the villagers. But all that was about crumble. His incompetence was about to be in full display.
Though what happened was beyond his control, he felt guilt creep up into his mind.
He wanted to avoid the villagers.
He wanted to leave.
The stuffiness he felt became even more apparent.
And yet, breaking away from his thoughts, Zephyr clenched his fist.
This was not the time to show weakness.
What happens next will affect the fate of everyone here—including himself. He couldn't take rash decisions or react instinctively anymore.
While the internal monologue of Zephyr deepened, the villagers came near them.
Zephyr senses their eyes move over him.
"Where is Will?"
"Where is Fred?"
Two voices asked at the same time.
One of them was asking about the missing person, while the other was asking about the other person who went with them.
Ashamed, Zephyr looked at the ground. The rain and fog hid his expression.
While the question was not directed at him, their burning gaze focused on him.
Zephyr had no answer. And no answer he gives would be enough.
The villagers were emotional. The same words of logic and reason he normally uses would only hurt them more. So, not saying anything was the best option.
'Best option…is there any?'
His compulsive need to rationalize emotions was coming to him once again, reeling him back from the sad reality. The form of detachment was his way of dealing with emotional stress.
It worked.
But at the same time, it made him look cold and unapproachable.
The villagers took their eyes off Zephyr and looked at the chief.
If the mage had no answers, their chief would, right?
"They are dead." As they wished, the chief gave them a simple answer.
He went directly to the point, startling Zephyr. He thought the chief would prime the villagers before informing them of their death.
But he didn't.
For a moment, he acted even more emotionless than Zephyr.
The news of their death immediately spread, making the villagers murmur. Some of the woven umbrellas slipped from their hands.
Among them, the most noticeable reaction was from a young woman. She was holding a young boy on her arm.
The moment the chief informed them of their death.
The woman dropped the umbrella she was carrying.
The rain drenched her and the young boy.
Zephyr didn't know whether it was tears or rain droplets that were streaming down her face.
"They died because of a ghoul, a type of high-ranked undead only an intermediate mage can create." The chief let them digest the information before continuing. "Our village is about to face the greatest crisis since its formation. From Sir Zephyr's observation, the necromancer who created the undead is somewhere nearby. So, he suggests that we should evacuate the village."
The world necromancer and high-ranked undead caused the villagers to panic. The whispers and murmurs increased. A few of them even turned around and looked at each other, wondering whether they were hearing it correctly.
Once they realized the chief was serious, they let out a gasp.
Their village was one of the safest places there was. It was far away from the kingdom's border and wildlands. And there exists no special resources or objects that gather the interest of the powerful nearby.
So, where did the necromancer come from?
Why did he come here?
They wanted to know. Even Zephyr wanted to know.
The initial reason Zephyr agreed to be part of the missing person search because he thought he wouldn't encounter any danger. But he did. So, he didn't want to be in a similar condition again. That was why he suggested an evacuation.
"Chief, are you serious?" One of the young men asked.
"Yes. We barely escaped."
The chief pointed at Jack and Zephyr. Both were wearing clothes covered in mud.
"They saved us." He added.
"So, you are really asking us to leave our home and evacuate the village?" The young man asked again, exasperated.
"Yes. We have to. At least, we have to move away from here."
The chief's voice struck down any hope they had. The villagers began to panic. To leave, abandoning all their life's work, was not something everyone could accept.
They had a home here. They depend on the sea to survive.
It would be terrible to leave all that.
And, is leaving even possible?
There were hundreds of people in the village. How would they survive anywhere else in this rain? The logistics of it didn't make sense.
"I don't want to leave."
Suddenly, voices of opposition began to rise within the group of villagers. For the next few seconds, chaotic arguments and angry voices exploded outward.
Zephyr observed them closely.
The group represented a smaller part of the village. Any opposition they raise would be amplified when there are more people together.
So, he wanted to see if they would sort out the problems before they escalated into something else.
However, contrary to what he wished, the voices in the group were finally moving against the decision to leave. Even though Zephyr and the people standing with him thought of the necromancer as an existential threat, the people who had never seen a ghoul or any other undead failed to understand the threat they were facing.
'It's going to be one terrible experience.'
Zephyr murmured under his breath.
'I should find somewhere nice to meditate and make more cores. Let the villagers sort out what should be done. I have said everything I need to say to the chief. It's his job to convince them to leave.'
Zephyr thought and looked at the chief. Although he wished to save them, not everyone wanted to be saved.
The chief was also at breaking point. The elderly man breathed deeply, looking at the villagers. His expression darkened as the chaos within the villagers intensified.
Zephyr took a while to organize his thoughts before walking towards the village hall. He needed shelter from the rain to meditate.