Zelda Villagers の小説・ストーリー

THIRD PERSON POV "Zelda... What? How's this even possible?" Mira stammered as she watched Zelda take a few more steps closer to her. Just like Lilith had told Zelda, she needed to take what was rightfully hers, so she decided to go back to the coven, but unfortunately, she couldn't give the comeback she really wanted to give because Lilith and Nora had killed the witches. Zelda chuckled upon seeing Mira... she was glad Mira was still alive so she could teach her a lesson.

"She's been with the military for so long. I'm sure she must miss the taste of food from her hometown." "Haha! I'm going to go fetch some nice ingredients for her meal!" After some discussion, the villagers immediately got to work. One went to the market to get ingredients, another went home to pick up some alcohol, and another went home in preparation to cook. It had been decades since a hero had appeared in Thompsonville, and Gloria was the only one throughout that amount of time who fit that description. Hence, the villagers welcomed her warmly. When Gloria saw how high-spirited they were, she said, "Thank you for all your kind gestures. But I'd like to go visit my parents' graves before

she said. "I know, but I just can't believe it," I replied. "I thought we would have to keep moving from place to place." "Well, it looks like we found a home," Ava said. As we walked through the village, we noticed that the villagers were going about their daily tasks. Some were tending to their farms, while others were working on their crafts. "I wonder if there's anything we can do to help," I said. Ava nodded. "I think they're in need of some extra hands for the harvest. Would you be willing to help?"

To our immense surprise, some of the king's men plummeted to the ground, cries of pain and surprise cutting through the chaos. Right after that, the ground shook beneath our feet as if an earthquake was rumbling through the battlefield. Yet, it was no earthquake that shook the ground—it was the courage and determination of the villagers, Hunter's loyal friends. In a stunning display of unity and bravery, the villagers rallied to our aid. They charged forth, armed with whatever makeshift weapons they could find, their eyes filled with unwavering resolve. Their unexpected intervention was a glimmer of salvation in the darkest hour. Amidst the chaos, one of the villagers, a familiar face with d

"He was fighting a sickness of the blood. We are fighting a sickness of the soul." She stood up, her gaze sweeping over the terrified villagers. "I need to know everything. Has anyone come to the village recently? A stranger? A traveler? Anyone who spoke to Elara, who gave her a gift, who looked at her for too long?" The villagers exchanged nervous glances, their fear a palpable, suffocating cloud. They were a simple, closed community, and the intrusion of violence and dark magic had shattered their sense of safety.

Before she called the final person, she hesitated for a long time. “Who is it?” she asked. “It’s me, Linda.” “I was wondering who it was. It’s you, Miss Stanton? Why did you call?” Her voice was full of mockery. “You want money? How much?” My mother gave her a figure, but before she could finish, Linda snorted. “Aren’t you rich? You spend a few million dollars at the drop of a hat. Why are you asking for money from nobodies like us? I do have money, but with your current situation, you wouldn’t be able to return it to me, right?