In the shadows of the S Ranked Main character
Chapter 56: June’s path(2)

Chapter 56: June’s path(2)

June stood at the edge of the ruined village, his body aching from the recent battle. The air was thick with the scent of ash and decay, and the sky overhead was a dull gray, casting a somber light over the desolate landscape.

As he surveyed the devastation, a faint whisper reached his ears—a voice, indistinct yet insistent, pulling at the edges of his consciousness. It was not a sound carried by the wind, but something deeper, resonating within him.

Compelled by this mysterious summons, June began to walk, his steps guided more by instinct than reason. The path led him through the charred remains of what had once been homes, past the skeletal structures of buildings long since collapsed.

Eventually, he arrived at a structure that had once been a church. Its walls were blackened by fire, and the roof had caved in, leaving the interior exposed to the elements. Despite its ruined state, the building exuded a solemn presence, as if it still held onto a fragment of its former sanctity.

Inside, the pews were overturned, and debris littered the floor. At the far end, where the altar had once stood, lay the corpse of a man. The body was clad in tattered robes, and his hands were clasped over his chest, as if in prayer. His face was obscured by a hood, but even in death, there was an air of dignity about him.

June approached cautiously, his footsteps echoing in the hollow space. As he drew nearer, the voice that had guided him here grew louder, more distinct. It was not coming from the corpse, but from within himself—a memory, perhaps, or a connection he could not yet comprehend.

He knelt beside the body, reaching out to uncover the man’s face. As he did, a surge of emotion washed over him—a mixture of sorrow, reverence, and an inexplicable sense of familiarity.

The man’s features were weathered, his skin pale and drawn. There were scars, evidence of a life marked by hardship and struggle. Yet, there was also a serenity in his expression, as if he had found peace in his final moments.

June sat back on his heels, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. He did not know who this man was, nor why he had been drawn here, but he felt a profound connection—a thread linking their fates across time and space.

In the silence of the ruined church, June closed his eyes, allowing the sensations to wash over him. He did not seek answers, not yet. For now, he simply bore witness to the life that had ended here, honoring the unknown man with his presence and his silence.

The wind had died.

The ruined village stood in eerie silence, the kind that didn’t settle, but hung—tense, waiting. June remained kneeling inside the burned-out church, the corpse at the altar laid out like a relic of some forgotten time. The building around him groaned as though remembering itself, charred wood beams creaking in protest against their own decay.

Then the sound began.

Not footsteps at first. Not the scrape of bone on stone. It was something quieter, almost rhythmic—a pulse, a hum, vibrating beneath the ash-coated floor.

June turned his head slightly, brows drawing together.

And then he heard it clearly.

Shuffling.

From outside the church.

From the village ruins.

From the forest edge.

From the roads that led nowhere.

Shambling, dragging, uneven footfalls. Dozens of them. Hundreds, maybe. The noise grew, soft at first, then louder, layered, like an approaching storm of broken bodies.

June rose slowly, sword still in hand, body still throbbing from his earlier battles. He stepped to the doorway, but stopped short when he saw them.

The corpses were coming.

Not mindless, not frenzied like the beasts he had slaughtered .

They moved with purpose.

Silent. Orderly. Intentional.

Blackened and twisted bodies, ruined faces with eyes long since rotted or burned away, mouths partially sewn or torn open. Some dragged broken legs, others leaned on twisted, burnt weapons or hunks of ruined wood. Many had no arms at all. Some bore signs of battle—deep gouges, shattered bone, limbs hanging by threads.

And still, they walked.

Toward the church.

June backed up, frowning now. His instincts twitched with caution, but there was no hostility in their motion.

One by one, they entered the church. Dozens. Then more. Until the burned pews were surrounded, filled, crowded. The once-silent space began to fill with a strange, low murmur.

The corpses knelt—some fully, others collapsing halfway with brittle bones cracking beneath them. Others simply bowed their heads, hunched or broken, positioning themselves as best they could before the altar.

They were praying.

Not in any language June recognized. The sounds were guttural, layered with rasped syllables and slurred tones. The words echoed strangely, as if spoken from beneath water—or from across dimensions.

Yet they did not falter.

The murmurs swelled.

Some of the corpses swayed slightly as they chanted. Others clutched at their chests, or raised ruined stumps toward the altar as if in offering.

June remained still.

He had fought for days.

He had carved through monsters with nothing but steel, spite, and mana.

And yet nothing made him feel so heavy as this silent congregation of the dead, all of them bowing their ruined bodies before a long-dead man in a half-collapsed church.

It felt rehearsed.

As though this ritual had happened countless times, and now was happening again—not for the first time, not by accident—but because it always ended this way.

The whispering grew louder.

The church seemed smaller now, the weight of all these voices pressing against the stone and air.

Still, no corpse looked to June.

Not one regarded him as intruder, threat, or guest.

Their attention was fixed only on the altar. On the body.

On the man who had died long ago.

On the one they now prayed to like a god.

June didn’t know who he was.

He didn’t know what they were saying.

But as he watched, he understood one thing clearly:

This was not madness.

This was devotion.

Rotten. Undying. Absolute.

And it terrified him.

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