Chapter 54: Shadows of Doubt
The road stretched endlessly before him—an unbroken ribbon of dust and scorched stone winding beneath a merciless sky.
Zodac walked alone.
By noon, the sun had climbed to its cruel zenith, pouring blistering heat onto the land without restraint. Each step he took sent a faint puff of dust into the air, the particles clinging stubbornly to his boots and armor. His thick, layered body armor—crafted more for battle than endurance—had become a suffocating prison. Heat pressed against him from all sides, crawling beneath the seams, soaking into the fabric, clinging to his skin as though intent on draining what little strength remained.
Sweat rolled down his temples, disappearing beneath his collar. His breathing grew heavier with every step, his chest rising and falling in uneven rhythm. The world ahead wavered, bending and blurring as if reality itself were melting under the sun's wrath.
Zodac narrowed his eyes, squinting toward the distant horizon.
Nothing.
No trees. No rooftops. No comforting silhouette of civilization.
Only heat.
Only silence.
"I can't get far under these conditions…" he muttered under his breath, his voice dry and hoarse. "And the next town is still nowhere in sight."
He clenched his jaw, forcing his legs to keep moving even as they screamed in protest. Cutting through the forest—as he had done before—was no longer an option. Not with his current state. Not with his mana still unstable after the previous battle. Even his connection to the elements felt muted, dulled, as though the land itself refused to answer his call.
His vision swam.
The edges of the road blurred, the sky bleeding into the earth in a dizzying haze. His steps became uneven, his balance faltering. He barely noticed the growing sound behind him—dull at first, distant and rhythmic.
Hooves.
The sound of galloping hooves thundered closer, but Zodac's senses were too dulled to react. He continued walking, unaware, until the noise grew so loud it vibrated through the ground beneath his feet.
A sudden halt.
The carriage stopped beside him with a sharp creak of wood and leather.
"You there."
The voice snapped through the haze like a blade.
Zodac stopped walking and slowly turned his head toward the sound. Shapes shifted before his eyes—blurry outlines of wheels, a horse's flank, and a man seated high above him. He couldn't make out the man's face clearly, only the shadow cast by a wide-brimmed hat.
"You look drained," the man continued, his tone neither hostile nor overly kind. "Need a lift?"
Zodac hesitated.
Instinct screamed at him not to trust strangers. It always had. Yet the heat weighed heavier than suspicion, and his legs threatened to give out beneath him. Shelter—even temporary—was necessary.
He gave the smallest nod.
"Okay. Get in."
The man gestured toward the back of the carriage. Zodac climbed aboard with measured effort, gripping the edge as his strength wavered. The moment he stepped inside, the difference was immediate.
Shade.
Cool air.
The oppressive weight of the sun eased, replaced by a bearable warmth. The carriage lurched forward as the man flicked the reins, and the rhythmic clatter of wheels replaced the silence of the road.
Zodac leaned back against one of the wooden crates, exhaling slowly. His breathing steadied. The world stopped spinning.
Gradually, his vision cleared.
Crates.
Dozens of them.
They were stacked carefully, bound with rope, marked with symbols and faded ink. Some bore the faint scent of herbs—earthy and bitter—while others carried the unmistakable tang of alchemical mixtures.
"Hey."
Zodac raised his head, turning toward the man seated at the front.
"There's water in there if you need it," the man said, eyes still fixed on the road.
"…Thank you."
Zodac reached for a canteen, taking measured sips. Cool liquid slid down his throat, easing the dryness, grounding him once more in reality.
He glanced around again.
"What are all these?" he asked.
The man chuckled lightly. "Oh—sorry, if they're inconvenient in there."
"No," Zodac replied calmly. "I was just curious."
"Medicinal herbs. Healing potions. The whole lot," the man said. "I've been asked to deliver this batch immediately."
"Immediately?" Zodac echoed.
The man nodded. "There's talk of a sickness, a plague, A bad one. Hit a town not too far from here. From what I hear, it spread fast—too fast. Took lives before anyone even realized what was happening."
Zodac looked away, staring at the wooden wall of the carriage.
*Does everyone in this world turn the smallest epidemic into a catastrophe?* he thought. *This place thrives on panic.*
Still, he said nothing.
The man, however, seemed more than willing to fill the silence.
He talked freely—about the road, the state of trade, the absurd price of potions lately. Zodac listened only halfway, offering the occasional nod or hum. It was enough. The man seemed satisfied simply having someone to speak to.
Then the conversation shifted.
"…You hear much about the heroes these days?" the man asked casually.
Zodac's attention sharpened.
"A bit," he replied evenly.
The man smiled, clearly pleased to have found an engaging topic. "They're everywhere lately. Makes you think the world's finally turning around."
He began with the **Water Elemental Hero**.
"he Slew a great dragon up north," the man said proudly. "the Thing had been terrorizing a town in the mountains."
Zodac said nothing.
Then came the **Air Elemental Hero**.
"Liberated a town from slavery," the man continued. "Corrupt leaders, chains everywhere. He tore it all down—literally. Threw the old rulers from their towers and installed new ones. Honest ones, they say."
Zodac stared at the floor.
Next was the **Fire Elemental Hero**.
Zodac's expression darkened.
"They say He ended a famine," the man said, awe in his voice. "Planted a heavenly seed. That grew over night a tree that bears endless fruit—never rots, never runs dry."
Zodac's expression darkened.
*Bullshit,* he thought coldly.
"Is that really possible?" he asked aloud.
The man scratched his head. "I don't really get it either. Sounds too good to be true, but people swear by it."
Then came the **Earth Elemental Hero**.
"Created golems," the man said. "Massive ones. Living guardians to protect a western town. Haven't had a single monster attack since."
The man paused.
Silence settled between them.
Zodac waited.
"I'm gonna regret asking this but..." He said inwardly,
"…There were five heroes," he said at last. "You've only mentioned four."
The carriage wheels creaked softly.
The horse snorted.
The man hesitated.
"Well…" he began slowly.
Zodac watched him from the corner of his eye.
"The Wood Elemental Hero," the man said at last. "No one's heard anything about him."
Zodac's gaze hardened.
"You think he disappeared?"
The man nodded grimly. "That, or worse. Someone like that can't walk unnoticed. Not with his reputation."
"Reputation?" Zodac asked.
The man lowered his voice. "They say he assaulted the king's daughter. Nearly took her to bed."
Zodac remained calm.
"How are you so sure that happened?" he asked, feigning surprise.
"The king himself announced it," the man replied confidently. "The news spread like wildfire."
Silence returned to the carriage.
The road stretched on.
And Zodac stared ahead, his reflection faintly visible in the polished wood—eyes unreadable, expression carved from stone.
The world had already decided who the villain was.
And it would never ask for the truth, the conversation ended as silence fills the carriage.