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That marker was located on the south side of the map, right next to a winding stream that eventually flowed into a lake.
Next to it, written in fine script, was the label—"Altar del Valle" (Valley Altar).
Leon leaned in to glance at the map, which was practically a cheat code. From the assembly hall where they were, the route to the Valley Altar was outlined with a clear red line.
This path would cut through the latter half of the village, bypass several buildings they hadn't explored yet, pass through an area marked as an "Abandoned Factory" on the map, and then descend along a rugged mountain path into the river valley before finally reaching the altar hidden among the cliffs.
On the mandatory path indicated by that red line, one building was specifically circled with a bold box, with a prominent note beside it.
—"Village Chief's Mansion."
"Hey, looks like we'll have to pay a visit to that escape champion's house first." Leon's mouth twitched. "I'm guessing he won't mind if we go in and borrow a few things."
Noah put away the map and agreed, "Let's go. Time to pay the Village Chief a visit."
The two didn't delay any longer. With a clear route to guide them, their operational efficiency increased by more than a notch.
They didn't leave through the main entrance of the assembly hall. Instead, following the markings on the map, they found an inconspicuous side door in the hall that led to the village's back alleys.
Pushing open the door, a scent of damp earth wafted toward them.
The latter part of the village was even more dilapidated than the square area where they had fought earlier.
The walls of many houses had collapsed, revealing dark, hollow interiors that emitted an odor of decay and mildew.
The road was eerily quiet.
The Villager who had previously been unafraid of death, lunging like mad dogs, were nowhere to be seen now.
The entire village seemed to have turned into a ghost town in an instant, with only the whimpering sound of the night wind passing through the ruined eaves.
"Something's not right." Leon held his modified shotgun, walking in front with light footsteps. "Where did these people go? Even if they're retreating, they couldn't have cleared out this completely."
"Maybe Mendez gathered them somewhere else." Noah followed behind him, his gaze alertly scanning the surroundings. "Or maybe they're preparing for the next 'firework exchange'."
"Whatever." Leon snorted coldly. "As long as they don't block the path."
They followed the map's guidance, weaving through the labyrinthine village alleys.
The accuracy of that map was frighteningly high; it even clearly marked which piles of junk hid a hollow space suitable for taking cover.
Soon, a building that was completely out of place among the surrounding dilapidated houses appeared before their eyes.
It was a two-story structure made of a mix of stone and wood, significantly larger than the surrounding houses.
The walls were built from heavy ashlar blocks, the windows were narrow and sturdy, and there were two clean stone steps at the entrance.
Compared to its neighbors with their rattling door panels, this place could practically be called a "luxury mansion."
This was the home of the Village Chief, Bitores Mendez.
"Seems like being the chief of this village is quite a lucrative gig." Leon curled his lip, stepped forward, and unceremoniously kicked open the thick wooden door.
Inside, there were no traps or ambushes as they had imagined.
A draft of air mixed with a faint scent of cigars and the fresh fragrance of wood wafted out from the house.
The layout of the living room further confirmed Leon's suspicion.
On the floor lay an animal fur rug that, while showing its age, still displayed an exquisite pattern.
A massive fireplace stood against the wall, with residual warmth still coming from the charcoal in the hearth.
A set of sofas and a coffee table made of heavy oak were placed in the center of the living room, and there were even several framed oil paintings on the walls, their subjects indistinguishable.
This place didn't look like the residence of a village chief in a remote mountain village at all; it was more like the country villa of some wealthy urban merchant.
Just as the two were about to split up and search, a rapid electronic beeping suddenly rang out from Leon's tactical vest.
It was the satellite phone.
Leon quickly pulled out the communicator and pressed the answer button.
"Kennedy, it's me." Hunnigan's clear and efficient voice came through.
"Hunnigan, any new findings?" Leon asked, signaling Noah to stay alert.
"Regarding that Luis Sera you asked me to check, I have the results." Hunnigan's speaking pace was fast. "Listen, this guy's background is very suspicious."
A slight clicking of keyboard keys came from the communicator, evidently Hunnigan retrieving data.
"Luis Sera Navarro, twenty-eight years old, male, Spanish nationality. That's all the basic information in his file. But the problem is, in all our intelligence department's databases, we can't find any records of him before university. No birth certificate, no family information, no entry records—nothing. This name seems to have appeared out of thin air on a student list at a university in Madrid."
Leon's brow furrowed. A man without a past?
"After graduation, his resume becomes clear. He was employed by Umbrella Corporation's European Sixth Laboratory as an Advanced Researcher."
"Umbrella?" Leon's pupils constricted suddenly. That damned name, like a maggot in the bone, had crawled into his ears once again.
"Correct." Hunnigan's voice turned grave. "The files show he participated in several new drug R&D projects, mainly focused on the fields of cell regeneration and nervous System intervention. However, strangely, these projects were eventually halted, and no finished products ever hit the market."
"A few years later, Sera resigned from Umbrella and then completely vanished off the face of the earth once more. After the Raccoon City Incident broke out, the federal government and various national intelligence agencies have been tracking down everyone associated with Umbrella, especially core Researchers. But this Luis Sera is as if he never existed; we can't find any trace of his whereabouts after his resignation. It's basically certain that he used some means to consciously erase all traces of himself."
Hunnigan paused, her tone carrying a hint of irony. "Kennedy, I don't think a guy who could access Umbrella's core projects and is proficient in counter-tracking techniques would go to a place like that just to develop some beauty creams, do you?"
"...I understand." Leon hung up the communication and stuffed the phone back into his pocket.
He irritably clenched his fist, his knuckles making a sharp "crack" sound.
"Umbrella... these bastards, their shadow is everywhere!" he cursed under his breath. "A company that has already declared bankruptcy and been nailed to the pillar of historical shame—why is its ghost still wandering around!"
He thought of the soaring flames of Raccoon City, the innocent citizens twisted and mutated by the virus, and the nightmare he could never escape.
An uncontrollable surge of anger and deep exhaustion welled up in his heart simultaneously.
"That's why we should cut off every single hand reaching out from the grave and thoroughly purge these spreading remnants of poison bit by bit." Noah's voice came from beside him.
Leon turned to look at Noah, the churning anger in his blue eyes slowly subsiding.
He exhaled forcefully, as if to spit out the frustration in his chest along with his breath.
"You're right."
The two said no more and began to carefully search this mansion belonging to the village chief.
Leon checked the various rooms downstairs, while Noah walked directly up the stairs leading to the second floor.
The corridor on the second floor was more spacious and brighter than the one downstairs.
More decorations hung on the walls, mostly crudely made but highly characteristic local wood carvings and animal head specimens.
At the end of the corridor, instead of an animal head, a portrait so large it was almost exaggerated hung on the wall.
The portrait was a full two meters high, with a frame carved from dark wood, entwined with twisted vines and strange insect-like reliefs.
In the painting was a man.
He wore an extremely ornate set of dark ritual robes, the edges embroidered with complex and eerie patterns in gold thread—the insignia of the Church of Light.
On his head was a massive miter, the shadow of which cast most of his face into darkness, leaving only his thin chin and his eyes—which seemed to flicker with a sickly light in the shadows—vaguely visible.
One of his hands leaned on a scepter taller than himself. At the top of the scepter was a large parasite sculpture made of countless intertwined segments, looking like a living thing.
His other hand was covered in rings set with massive gems, each one emitting an evil and cold aura that belied its wealth.
He just stood there, his face not even clearly visible, yet arrogance and madness seeped through the canvas.
Compared to the man in the painting, Chief Mendez, who had been punched away by Noah in the river valley, seemed like a crude thug who only knew how to swing his fists.
"Looks like this is the 'Big Boss' we're facing this time." Leon looked up at the painting, his tone more solemn than ever before.
Noah didn't speak; his gaze fell on a bookshelf next to the portrait.
There weren't many books on the shelf, mostly old volumes about religion and history.
Noah reached out and pulled out the one that looked thickest and oldest.
It was a heavy tome with a cover made of tanned hide. There was no text on the cover, only a brand of the Church of Light's insignia burned into it with a branding iron.
Noah flipped open the pages.
The paper inside was yellowed and brittle, with something densely recorded in an ancient Spanish script in handwritten form.
"Village Chronicles." Noah read the title on the title page.
"There might be some clues here." He looked up at Leon.
Leon glanced at the book, which was as thick as a brick, then at the deep night outside the window and the distant altar on the map that still required trekking over mountains.
He sighed heavily and leaned against the wall.
From the explosion to the fight with Mendez and being worn out by the treasure hunt, his mind and physical strength had been in a state of high tension.
"Fine." He nodded, his voice carrying a trace of fatigue. "It's about time we caught our breath for a moment."
The two didn't sit on the comfortable-looking sofa; instead, they sat down right there on the corridor carpet.
Leon leaned against the wall, seizing this precious time to recover his strength.
Noah spread the heavy Village Chronicles across his lap and, by the dim moonlight filtering through the window, began to look through this history that recorded the source of all the evil and madness in this place...
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