Journey to Become the Zenith-Chapter 127: The Hunt Beneath a Broken Silence

The Hunt Beneath a Broken Silence

Few days have passed since Lane and Victor last teamed up for an adventure job together.

A change crept in, slow and silent. Not named, never discussed, yet there all the same. It sat in the space where words used to be. Quiet, yes - but impossible to ignore.

Floating away from the group, Victor took jobs alone, words few. As usual, his steps stayed smooth, face still, a wall around him - yet anyone watching close saw it: thoughts humming beneath. Something sat there, just out of sight.

Lane stayed caught up in a task she wouldn’t talk about.

Every time someone questioned her, a small grin appeared before she answered softly: "Not worth mentioning."

Yet that moment held weight. It mattered more than silence could hide.

Only Clara continued working as an adventurer like usual.

If anything—

She worked even harder.

The sky above the small rural settlement of Ridge Village was dull and overcast, heavy clouds hanging low as if pressing down on the land itself.

The air smelled wrong.

Not rotten.

Not yet.

But tense.

Like something had disturbed the natural order.

Clara stood at the edge of the village, her long blonde hair swaying slightly in the wind. Her purple eyes were sharp, focused—scanning everything.

Her outfit clung tightly to her athletic frame—black leather pants hugging her legs, a cropped top revealing her toned midsection. Every movement she made carried strength, precision... and restrained irritation.

"...Goblins," she muttered under her breath.

Her jaw tightened slightly.

The villagers stood behind her at a distance, whispering nervously.

"They’ve been coming closer every night..."

"They took livestock..."

"...Someone saw them near the houses yesterday..."

Clara didn’t respond.

She didn’t need to.

She already knew what this meant.

Ever since the necromancer from before disappeared—

The surrounding monsters had changed.

Not organized.

Not controlled.

But unstable.

Like something had snapped.

And goblins—

Were always the first to act on that chaos.

"...Stay inside," Clara said calmly, not even turning around.

Her voice wasn’t loud.

But it carried.

"...Lock your doors. Don’t come out until I return."

A villager hesitated.

"...Miss... will you be alright alone?"

Clara finally glanced back.

Just once.

"...They’re goblins."

That was her answer.

The forest swallowed her the moment she stepped in.

Shadows stretched between twisted trees. Leaves rustled softly, but there was no birdsong.

Too quiet.

Clara exhaled slowly.

"...Annoying."

Her fingers tightened around her weapon.

The first goblin didn’t even realize she was there.

A blur.

A step.

A clean strike.

Its head rolled before its body understood it was dead.

No hesitation.

No wasted movement.

Then—

More.

Three emerged from behind the brush, snarling, crude weapons raised.

Their eyes locked onto her.

Hungry.

Animalistic.

Clara’s expression didn’t change.

"...Disgusting."

They rushed her.

Bad decision.

Steel flashed.

Fast.

Precise.

Brutal.

One lost its arm before it could swing. Another had its throat opened mid-step. The last one—

Tried to run.

Clara’s eyes narrowed slightly.

"...You’re not dying yet."

She moved faster.

Cutting deep—but not enough to kill.

The goblin screamed, collapsing to the ground, clutching its wound.

Clara stood over it, her shadow falling across its trembling body.

"...Run."

The goblin hesitated.

Then instinct took over.

It crawled.

Then stumbled.

Then ran.

Back toward its den.

Clara followed.

Silently.

Patiently.

Her footsteps barely made a sound.

The deeper she went—

The worse the smell became.

Damp.

Rotting.

Something foul lingering in the air.

Her expression darkened.

"...Found it."

A cave.

Hidden behind jagged stone and overgrown roots.

The entrance was narrow—

But inside—

Dark.

Deep.

Alive.

Clara stepped in without hesitation.

The air inside was cold.

Heavy.

Every sound echoed slightly—dripping water, distant movement, low guttural noises.

Her grip tightened.

They came.

One by one.

Then in groups.

Goblins rushing out of the darkness, drawn by sound, by scent—

By her.

Their eyes lit up the moment they saw her.

Greed.

Hunger.

Something vile behind it.

Clara’s expression hardened completely.

"...I was already in a bad mood."

Her voice dropped.

Cold.

"...You picked the wrong day."

What followed—

Was not a fight.

It was a massacre.

She moved like a storm unleashed.

Every swing of her blade carried weight.

Every step pushed forward.

No retreat.

No hesitation.

A goblin lunged—

She split it from shoulder to waist.

Another tried to flank—

She crushed its skull against the cave wall.

Two rushed together—

She stepped between them—

And both fell before they even realized she had moved.

Blood splattered across the stone.

The smell thickened.

But Clara didn’t slow down.

Didn’t stop.

Her breathing remained steady—

But her eyes—

Burned.

She wasn’t just killing them.

She was venting.

Every frustration.

Every irritation.

Every unspoken thought from the past few days—

Poured into each strike.

"...Pathetic."

A whisper under her breath.

One tried to beg.

It didn’t understand her language.

But the sound—

The tone—

Was enough.

Clara’s blade didn’t hesitate.

Eventually—

The cave fell silent.

Bodies scattered across the ground.

Broken.

Still.

Dead.

Clara stood in the center of it all, chest rising slowly.

Her grip loosened slightly.

"...Done."

But not quite.

She crouched down, her movements calm now, methodical.

One by one—

She cut off their ears.

Clean.

Precise.

Proof of subjugation.

She placed them into a small pouch at her side without a word.

Then—

She went deeper.

The cave twisted inward, narrowing, the darkness thickening.

Something felt off.

Her steps slowed.

Just slightly.

And then—

She saw them.

Women.

Huddled together in the far corner of the cave.

Their bodies trembling.

Eyes wide.

Empty.

Clothes torn.

Skin bruised.

The moment the faint light reached them—

They flinched.

As if expecting more pain.

Clara froze for a fraction of a second.

Just one.

"...Of course."

Her voice came out quieter this time.

But heavier.

She had expected this.

She always did.

Because goblins—

Never stopped at raiding.

Her jaw tightened.

Her fingers curled slightly.

A flicker of something dangerous passed through her eyes.

Not just anger.

Something deeper.

For a brief moment—

An image flashed in her mind.

Her own family.

In a place like this.

Helpless.

Broken.

Her grip on the sword tightened again.

Hard enough that her knuckles whitened.

"...No."

A quiet breath.

Sharp.

Controlled.

She turned her gaze back to the women.

And this time—

Her voice softened.

Just slightly.

"...You’re safe."

They didn’t respond.

Not immediately.

Fear doesn’t vanish that easily.

Clara exhaled slowly.

Then turned back—

Looking at the cave behind her.

At the bodies.

At what remained.

Her eyes hardened once more.

Because if even one had survived—

She would have gone back.

And ended it again.

Without hesitation.

But now—

There was nothing left to kill.

Only people to save.

And anger—

Still burning quietly inside her chest.