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Leon had just finished checking the magazine of his matilda and was about to offer a sharp retort to Noah's joke about being a "vehicle killer" when he caught a glimpse of several corpses on the ground that should have been dead for good.
"Wait..." he whispered, his gaze instantly turning sharp.
Two Villager, whose throats he had precisely slit with his knife, were now using an extremely eerie, joint-contorting posture to shakily push themselves up from the pool of blood.
Their movements were stiff and sluggish, like marionettes; with every movement, their bones emitted an unsettling grinding sound.
Even more hair-raising was the deep, bone-exposing wound at their necks.
The wounds were no longer bleeding; instead, like grotesque mouths, several slender, pale-fleshed tentacles were poking out from within.
Those tentacles swayed and stretched slowly in the cold air as if they possessed an independent life, breathing greedily, or perhaps testing this unfamiliar world.
"Heh." A short, sharp breath escaped Leon's throat.
He didn't say another word, simply stepping forward with movements as fast as a lightning bolt.
He circled behind one of the walking corpses, pressed his left hand onto its shoulder, and held his tactical knife in a reverse grip, driving it upward at a tricky angle precisely into the back of the corpse's neck.
His wrist twisted violently!
"Crack!"
The crisp sound of bone fracturing rang out clearly.
The cervical vertebrae connecting the skull to the torso were completely severed by this massive rotational force.
The Villager's body shuddered violently, and the writhing tentacles on its neck instantly lost their vitality, curling back like a filament that had lost power.
His high-held head slumped limply, and his entire body collapsed onto the ground as if all the bones had been sucked out; this time, there was no more movement.
The other Villager who had stood back up was stepping mechanically, attempting to walk toward the gate.
Noah's figure had already appeared at his side.
He raised his foot and stomped heavily onto the Villager's cervical spine.
There was another dull sound of bone breaking.
The Villager stumbled forward two steps and then face-planted straight into the ground, splashing a puddle of filthy blood.
Leon wiped his knife on the corpse's clothes, returned it to its sheath, and looked at the several flesh-colored tentacles that had stopped moving, spitting out two words expressionlessly.
"Disgusting."
The two didn't delay any longer, passing through the heavy iron-wood gate and officially stepping into the core area of this cursed village.
The scene behind the gate was starkly different from the dilapidated desolation of the outskirts.
Although the buildings were still made of rough stone and blackened wood, the layout was clearly more organized, forming a relatively wide main road.
On both sides of the road stood a dozen or so two- or three-story houses with mixed wood and stone structures, most of which had their doors and windows tightly shut.
After walking about a hundred meters along the flagstone path, the space ahead suddenly opened up, revealing a sizeable village square.
The two didn't advance recklessly; instead, they quickly ducked behind an abandoned house, took out military binoculars from their backpacks, and crouched in the shadows to look toward the center of the square.
In the very center of the square, a massive, mountain-like bonfire had been piled up using a large amount of thick timber.
The bonfire hadn't been lit yet, but around it, dozens of figures stood in the shadows.
Men and women, old and young—they all wore simple, worn-out villager clothing and held various "weapons" in their hands: rusty sickles, polished pitchforks, and cleavers and axes with notched blades.
They said nothing, simply surrounding the massive woodpile, standing or sitting, staring ahead with hollow eyes as if piously waiting for a ceremony to begin.
The scene was eerily quiet, suffocatingly oppressive.
"Looks like the party's already started, we're just a bit early." Leon lowered his binoculars, his voice kept very low.
Noah didn't speak, his brow furrowing slightly as if he were contemplating something.
He carefully swept the binoculars' field of vision across every villager's face.
Those faces were numb, dull, and fanatical, yet they lacked one type of face that should exist in any normal village.
"Leon," Noah lowered his binoculars, his voice carrying a hint of gravity, "Why are there no children here..."
Leon was momentarily stunned and raised his binoculars again.
It was true.
Among the dozens of Villager in the square, there were white-haired elders, strong middle-aged people, and even seemingly youthful boys and girls—every age group was represented.
Except for children under ten years old.
Not a single one.
A chill slowly climbed up Leon's spine.
He had experienced the Hell of Raccoon City and seen monsters spawned by various viruses, but the scene before him—this systemic "disappearance" of a specific group—gave him a sense of dread more profound than any roaring monster, a horror that struck at the very Foundation of civilization.
"We'll sneak in from the left." Noah's voice pulled Leon back from his brief lapse in concentration.
The two put away their binoculars and followed the small path to the left of the square, infiltrating silently like two ghosts blending into the darkness.
This path was narrower; in front of a wooden house by the road, a bloated woman stood with her back to them, facing a pile of foul-smelling hay.
She held a three-pronged pitchfork and was mechanically tossing hay from one pile to another, one stroke at a time, her movements monotonous and repetitive as if she would never stop.
Noah signaled Leon to stop.
Then, he glided over noiselessly.
Without the woman noticing a thing, Noah had already pressed up behind her.
He covered her mouth with his left hand, preventing any possible sound, while his right hand's black tactical knife, like a viper's fang, precisely pierced her back neck.
A twist of the wrist severed the cervical spine.
The entire process didn't make a single unnecessary sound.
Noah used his body's strength to support her and then slowly laid the lifeless body in the shadows of the corner, cleverly concealing it with a pile of junk.
Having done all this, he nodded to Leon.
The two skirted around the corpse and came to the side of the wooden house.
The window wasn't locked, just slightly ajar.
Noah gave it a light nudge with the tip of his knife to open it.
He poked his head in first to observe, and after confirming no one was inside, he signaled to Leon that it was safe.
The two vaulted through the window with light movements, without making a sound.
The interior furnishings were extremely simple, and a heavy smell of mold and dust hit their noses.
By the dim moonlight filtering through the window, it was clear that the residents of this house, like the Villager outside, had gathered at the bonfire in the square.
Noah and Leon didn't linger on the first floor, heading straight for the wooden stairs leading to the second floor.
The rooms on the second floor were likewise empty.
Leon's gaze was soon drawn to something hanging on the wall.
It was an old-fashioned pump-action shotgun, its body maintained to a glossy shine, standing out among the other items in the room.
He walked over without hesitation, took the shotgun down, and expertly checked the chamber and magazine; confirming it was fully loaded, he slung it over his shoulder with satisfaction.
"Looks like we didn't come away empty-handed after all," he whispered to Noah.
Next, he pulled open a dilapidated wooden cabinet nearby.
Inside the cabinet were two boxes of red shotgun shells neatly arranged.
Leon whistled and pocketed the ammunition as well.
However, at the very moment he closed the cabinet door!
"Ah—!"
A woman's scream, shrill enough to pierce eardrums, suddenly exploded from the yard downstairs they had just passed through!
It was a Villager responsible for signaling; she had discovered the woman's corpse!
Immediately following, the entire previously deathly silent village was like a beehive hit by a bomb, instantly boiling over!
"¡Hay forasteros!" (Outsiders!)
"¡Encontrémoslos!" (Find them!)
Countless furious roars rang out from all directions, mingled with the harsh scraping sounds of various farm tools being dragged across the ground.
The Villager in the square, who had previously been like statues, all "came to life" at this moment!
They raised their axes, sickles, and pitchforks; those hollow faces were instantly filled with an extreme, irrational frenzy as they began running around like headless chickens, smashing doors and kicking in windows, searching for the intruders' trail.
"¡Usémoslos como sacrificio!" (Use them as sacrifices!)
"¡Hagámoslos pedazos!" (Tear them to pieces!)
Noah stood by the second-floor window, watching those demon-like Villager below; his face was calm as he turned to ask Leon.
"What are they shouting?"
Leon was chambering a round into his new shotgun; hearing this, he replied without looking up, "They say they want to have us for dinner."
Noah nodded, his tone flat.
"Then we should thank them properly."
Just then!
"Vroom— vroom vroom vroom—"
A tooth-gritting, high-frequency engine roar suddenly rang out in the square!
It was the sound of a chainsaw being started!
Leon's chambering motion paused; he looked up, a strange expression on his face.
"Holy crap, they're that enthusiastic?"
"They don't seem to have ranged weapons," Noah calmly analyzed the chaotic situation below. "They only know how to charge blindly like brainless mad dogs."
His gaze turned toward the roof of the house.
"Let's find a vantage point first. Get on the roof and deal with them from there."
The two immediately went into action.
The second-floor attic had a skylight leading to the roof, and the two climbed out easily.
This was an undulating roof covered in dark tiles.
Standing here, the view opened up, allowing them to see most of the village's movements.
Just as they climbed onto the roof, the sound of "thud thud" from doors being rammed came from below.
Soon, dozens of Villager discovered their location and, like sharks smelling blood, converged from all directions.
They emitted meaningless roars and began mechanically dragging long wooden ladders from nearby woodpiles and corners, propping them against the walls, and then climbing up one after another in a scramble.
Their movements were clumsy, but they were fearless of death, their eyes filled with pure murderous desire.
"Truly a simple and unadorned tactic." Leon leveled his shotgun, watching the first Villager who climbed the ladder while waving a sickle, and pulled the trigger without hesitation.
Bang!
A massive roar accompanied by a burst of orange-red flame exploded in the night.
The shotgun's lead pellets unleashed terrifying power at close range.
The Villager's entire upper body was as if struck by an invisible giant hand, instantly exploding into a cloud of blood; tattered limbs and organs fell down with a clatter like rain.
However, his death did not deter the companions behind him.
They simply stepped numbly over their companion's corpse and continued climbing up.
"Ammunition is limited," Noah's voice rang out.
Just as another Villager brandishing an axe was about to reach the roof.
He faced the axe the Villager swung, neither dodging nor flinching, and suddenly reached out his left hand, precisely grabbing the opponent's wrist holding the axe.
The Villager was stunned, not yet reacting.
Noah's wrist applied force and twisted!
"Crack!"
The sound of bone dislocating.
The axe in the Villager's hand flew out.
Noah caught the axe while it still held the enemy's warmth, and then kicked the Villager in the chest, sending him tumbling down like garbage.
He tested the weight of the heavy axe in his hand, his eyes turning cold.
He no longer defended passively, but proactively met the enemies climbing up another ladder.
The axe blade traced a cold arc in the air, sweeping out with a whistling wind!
Squelch!
The Villager who had just poked out half his body didn't even have time to groan before his head soared into the sky, and the blood spraying from his neck stained the roof tiles red.
Noah began a slaughter.
The axe in his hand became a most terrifying harvesting machine.
Cleaving, hacking, sweeping, smashing—there were no fancy techniques, only the simplest, most direct, and most lethal killing moves.
The Villager who fearlessly climbed up were like fragile stalks of wheat before him, being harvested in swaths.
Severed limbs and blood flew together; screams and roars resonated.
Leon guarded the other side; he didn't fire easily anymore, instead focusing on one task: kicking ladders.
Whenever a ladder was nearly full of people, he would find the right moment, step forward, and kick the entire ladder along with the seven or eight Villager hanging on it over.
"Bang!"
"Crash!"
The sounds of heavy ladders and human bodies hitting the ground, accompanied by the dull thuds of breaking bones and tendons, were incessant.
One attacking, one assisting, the two coordinated seamlessly, stubbornly holding their ground on the small roof against the frenzied siege of dozens of Villager.
Just then!
Dong—! Dong—! Dong—!
A distant and heavy bell toll came without warning from deep within the village, from the direction of the towering church.
The bell's toll seemed to carry a strange magic.
The moment it rang out, all the Villager' movements came to a halt.
Those Villager who were brandishing weapons with faces full of frenzy had their expressions instantly frozen.
Those who were climbing ladders and roaring as they charged up also froze in place.
The entire clamorous, boiling village eerily quieted down at this moment.
The fanaticism and violence on their faces receded rapidly like a tide, replaced by the familiar numbness and emptiness from before.
"Ah... the time for prayer has come..."
A Villager dropped his pitchfork and muttered to himself.
"Time to go listen to Lord Saddler's teachings..."
Another Villager also dropped his axe and said with a dull gaze.
Then, a dramatic scene occurred.
All the Villager, regardless of gender or age, simultaneously dropped the weapons in their hands.
Those rusty sickles, axes, and pitchforks fell to the ground with a chorus of "clatter, clatter."
Then, they turned around and, with stiff and orderly steps, ignored Noah and Leon on the roof, as well as the corpses of their companions scattered everywhere, simply walking numbly and piously toward the distant church from which the bell toll originated.
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