Morning arrived with a grey sky and heavy air. As planned, the three of them split up, infiltrating the village from different directions.
Rio walked down the main street of the deserted village. The wooden houses looked dull and unkempt, their windows like vacant eyes staring at him coldly. The oppressive atmosphere was so thick it felt as if the village itself was holding its breath, waiting for something terrible to happen. Every time he passed a villager—mostly elderly people or women with weary faces—they would stop their activities, staring at him with a mixed expression of cynicism, fear, and something he couldn't read. Their stares were so intense, as if he were an alien creature who had stumbled into their world, or worse, a new threat. Rio felt like he was walking through a real-life horror film.
The uneven dirt roads, the rickety wooden houses with thatched or rusty tin roofs, and the absence of public facilities like electricity poles or modern water pipes further emphasized the place's isolation. The smell of damp earth, burning wood, and the faint scent of livestock mixed in the air, a far cry from the sterile aroma and synthetic perfumes of downtown Antares. This was the other side of the metropolis, a side rarely exposed, where time seemed to have stopped. Rio, who had grown up on similar outskirts before tragedy struck, could feel the oppressive silence and the faint despair seeping from every corner of the village.
But he ignored the uncomfortable feeling, focusing on his goal. He needed information. He needed to find the victims' families.
Suddenly, in the distance, at a crossroads, a man in shabby clothes and disheveled hair was seen waving a worn piece of paper above his head. His voice was hoarse and loud as he shouted, "Listen, o people of the village! Gather 'round! I will read the new sacred decree from our God, written by the hand of the High Priest himself!"
Miraculously, the shout seemed to possess a magical power. The villagers, who had seemed listless and apathetic, instantly began to move. They came out of their houses, walking hurriedly toward the shabbily dressed man, forming a small crowd with faces full of hope and fear.
Rio, whose instincts immediately told him this was something important, decided to approach. He walked slowly, keeping his distance, trying not to draw attention.
However, he had only taken a few steps forward when a swift movement from behind was detected by his now-honed Shunpo senses. Without needing to turn, just by feeling the shift in the wind and the faint killing intent, Rio swung his hand back with lightning speed. His strong, trained fingers clamped around a thin, wrinkled wrist, stopping a wooden club that had been swung forcefully just before it could hit his head.
"THUD!"
The club stopped inches from his temple. Rio still hadn't turned around. In a flat, cold tone, he asked, "What are you doing, old woman?"
A moment of silence. Then a choked sob was heard. The old woman whose wrist Rio held seemed frozen in shock, her weary eyes wide in disbelief at such an easy parry. Then, as if her emotional dam had burst, she began to cry hysterically, tears streaming down her wrinkled cheeks. The club she had been gripping tightly fell to the ground with a soft sound.
"Forgive me, son… forgive me…" she sobbed pitifully, her voice trembling. "I… I didn't mean to hurt you… I swear… I just… I just want my daughter back…"
Rio slowly released his grip, finally turning around. The old woman immediately collapsed to the ground, kneeling, her face buried in her trembling hands. Her clothes were shabby, her body frail, but an immense despair radiated from her.
"Your daughter… where did she go?" Rio asked, his voice softening slightly. He remembered his mother, remembered the pain of loss.
The woman just shook her head, her crying intensifying. She seemed not to hear Rio's question, lost in her own sea of sorrow.
Rio crouched in front of her. "Listen to me, ma'am," he tried again, his tone gentler now. "I might be able to help you. Believe me, I didn't come to this village to do anything bad. I want to know what's happening here."
Slowly, very slowly, the old woman lowered her hands. Her eyes, red and swollen from crying, looked at Rio with hesitation. She glanced around, nervously watching the villagers who were focused on the man delivering the news, making sure no one else was watching. Then, with a sudden movement, she grabbed Rio's wrist, pulling him with what little strength she had left. "Come with me, son… Quickly… Before anyone sees…"
Rio, slightly surprised by the sudden change, allowed himself to be pulled along. The woman led him down a narrow alley between two houses, toward a small hut located somewhat secluded at the edge of the village.