CHAPTER 38: ARRIVAL TO THE VILLAGE ALDO

The dirt road leading east stretched like a faded scar across the land—long, winding, and quiet. Too quiet.

No caravans.

No farmers.

No travelers.

Just open plains, occasional barren trees, and the crackle of wind brushing through dry grass.

Lyris walked in front, hood drawn, eyes always scanning ahead. Mira followed at a calm pace, staff lightly tapping the ground every few steps. Ragna brought up the rear, greatsword slung across her back, ears twitching every time the wind shifted.

None of them had spoken for nearly an hour.

The road to the eastern frontier was safe enough—safer than roads heading to the Wildlands or Ironspine—but still... it was too quiet.

Eventually, Ragna broke the silence.

"You know what I hate about goblin jobs?"

Mira hummed. "Do I want to know?"

Ragna kicked a loose stone from the road. "You never hear about them until it’s too late. A few goblins aren’t a problem. Maybe they raid a farm or two, steal livestock. People chase them off with torches. No one bothers writing a request."

Her tail lowered slightly.

"But when people finally write one—when they actually beg the Guild for help—it’s never for ’a few goblins.’"

Lyris slowed down, listening without turning.

Mira’s grip on her staff tightened.

"Goblins swarm," Mira said softly. "They don’t besiege. They... feed."

Silence settled again.

That was the truth.

Aldo Village hadn’t requested help because they saw a goblin once.

They probably requested help because they saw too many.

And no one came.

They walked for two days before stopping at Haywell, a small hamlet sitting at the junction of three trade routes. The villagers knew little, but old men at the tavern muttered rumors.

Something was stirring at the frontier.

Old forts were being rebuilt.

The army had been seen mobilizing, though no one knew why.

No mention of Aldo.

Which, in its own way... was worse.

The next two days were quieter. Denser woods. Fewer farmsteads. More abandoned wagons, long since picked clean.

By the fifth day, Mira stopped keeping track of time.

"Imagine it," she finally said while they rested under a tree.

"What?" Ragna asked.

"Aldo. The villagers. Someone—maybe the village chief—comes here, to the capital. With scraped-together coin. Maybe their best horse. They speak to the Guild. Begging. Hoping." She paused. "They post the request. Go back home with hope."

Ragna didn’t laugh this time.

Lyris remained silent.

Mira went on.

"And then days pass. They wait. Maybe they see smoke on the horizon. Or hear screams." Her gaze lowered. "Maybe they hope someone is coming."

"...But no one comes," Ragna finished quietly.

They said nothing after that.

On the seventh morning, they crossed the last ridge before Aldo.

The landscape changed.

The dirt road flattened. The air felt... unnaturally still.

Lyris slowed down.

"...We’re close."

No birds.

No insects.

No smell of farm animals.

Just... stillness.

Ragna unslung her sword.

Mira whispered a light detection spell. Her eyes flickered blue—then faded.

"No signs," she said.

No goblins. No corpses. No smoke.

No village.

They walked forward.

Then, as they climbed a small slope—Lyris suddenly stopped.

Ragna bumped into her lightly. "What—?"

Lyris didn’t answer.

She was staring ahead, completely still.

Mira and Ragna stepped beside her—

—and both froze.

It wasn’t a ruined village.

It wasn’t a looted settlement.

It wasn’t an abandoned land.

It didn’t even look like a village anymore.

A massive structure now dominated what should’ve been Aldo.

A wall.

But not a stone wall like city battlements.

Not wood.

Not iron.

Smooth—gray—flawlessly shaped.

Almost like polished stone, but too uniform. Too straight. Too perfect.

Concrete—but they didn’t have that word.

It rose at least twice as high as any fortress wall they’d ever seen. Wide, thick, stretching across the horizon in both directions—forming a perimeter.

And along this wall—metal towers stood at intervals. Tall, angular, unnatural. With men standing atop them—too distant to see clearly, but definitely not wearing any uniform from any kingdom they knew.

Black. All black.

Armor? Cloth? It was hard to tell.

Even stranger—near the base of the wall—strange structures stood. Box-shaped, made of shiny metal and glass. Lined in rows. Some had wheels. Some didn’t. Some moved—without horses.

Mira blinked. "What... what are those?"

Ragna took an involuntary step back. "Are those... carriages? But—where are the horses—?"

No horses.

No reins.

Just metal.

And then—

Something moved overhead.

The wind shifted.

A shadow passed over them.

They looked up—

And saw something that did not belong in any known world.

A massive shape in the sky.

Metal. Wings that didn’t flap. A roar like thunder and wind combined.

A flying beast? A steel wyvern?

It soared over the walls, turning slowly, casting a shadow that swallowed the fields below.

Ragna’s jaw dropped. "That’s not... that can’t be alive."

Lyris couldn’t speak.

Mira was frozen.

They watched as the metal dragon swooped lower, its wings rigid and shining, before it descended behind the walls—disappearing from sight.

Silence.

No goblins.

No ruins.

No collapsed houses.

Instead—

Fortifications unlike any castle.

Men dressed in dark armor with strange weapons.

Metal carriages that moved without horses.

Flying machines.

The land where Aldo Village once stood—

Was no longer a village.

It was something else.

Something new.

Something foreign.

Lyris exhaled.

"...This wasn’t goblins."

Mira swallowed. "No. This is something else entirely."

Ragna stared, awe and tension mixing in her eyes.

"So... do we still go in?"

Lyris slowly nodded.

"It’s still Aldo," she said quietly. "But it’s not the Aldo we expected."

She took a slow step forward.

"Let’s find out what happened here."

And with that—

The three C-rank adventurers of Silverleaf walked toward the wall of Aldo Village.

Or what used to be Aldo Village.

Not knowing that they had just stepped into something far—far—bigger than a rescue.

Lyris led, feet crunching softly over the dry dirt as they left the safety of the ridge.

With every step closer, the wall grew more massive. More impossible. Up close, it felt less like a man-made barrier and more like some titanic slab dropped from the heavens.

Ragna’s ears were flat now. Mira’s fingers never left her staff.

Then, movement.

Figures atop the nearest tower shifted, turning toward them. Something glinted—glass? Metal? A signal flashed. A moment later, shapes moved at the base of the wall. Dark-clad men, weapons in hand, advancing in formation toward the gate.

A sharp voice rang out.

"Halt! Identify yourselves!"