Erías was still gasping for air, the sound of the demon's body fading into thin air was both disturbing… and relieving.
His eyes locked onto the three men approaching, immediately noticing how similar they were—warm-toned hair, matching skin tone, and all carrying swords or axes. The men stopped just close enough for a proper conversation.
Erías quickly stood, uncertain whether he should really allow them to get this close.
The one in the center spoke first:
— Did you really kill that Malvaren... by yourself? — His voice carried a tone of admiration. It wasn't overwhelming, but clear enough to be noticed—though still far too methodical to be casual. — That's not something just anyone can do.
— And who exactly are you? — Erías straightened his posture, watching them with obvious distrust. — You don't exactly seem like ordinary people yourselves. — His voice was deliberately polite, but the undertone of caution was unmistakable. His hand pressed over his injured shoulder, but his stance made it clear—he was ready for anything.
— We're from that village over there. — The man pointed behind him. The village wasn't particularly large but was well organized. Its farmland stretched toward the edges, while larger buildings and houses clustered toward the center. — Our village is made up entirely of warriors. We sensed the Malvaren's presence and rushed here as fast as we could.
His eyes flicked down, noticing the blood running down Erías' arm. The stranger clearly hadn't walked away unscathed.
— Why don't you come back to the village with us? We can treat that wound... and offer you a place to rest for the night as a way to thank you.
Erías scanned their expressions carefully. He considered the offer. Despite his hesitation, he knew one thing—he couldn't treat this wound alone.
— I don't want to be a bother... but if I leave this untreated, it's bound to get infected.
Nodding, the man turned and began leading the way back toward the village, the other two following behind. They walked a dirt path, weaving between trees and even descending a grassy slope.
As they entered the village, a few sentries glanced over, some following them with curious eyes.
The man glanced back and gave an order to his companions:
— You two, go speak to my father. Explain the situation and ask him to prepare a vacant room.
The two nodded and split off, while the man guided Erías toward a small, house-shaped clinic.
Like every other building in the village, it was made entirely of wood. Next to it was a yard where various medicinal herbs were being carefully cultivated.
A few knocks on the door were enough. The medic opened it and welcomed them inside.
The strong scent of aromatic herbs filled the air—common in places where people trusted in their healing properties.
The house was warm and cozy, with simple wooden furniture, a staircase leading upward, and a plain sofa in the middle of the room.
After explaining how the injury had happened, Erías sat down on the sofa at the medic's request. The healer pulled up a chair beside him and, as he began tending to the shoulder wound, the man from earlier started speaking.
— I want to thank you again for stopping that Malvaren from reaching our village. If you don't mind me asking... what's your name?
— You can call me Erías Cladis. — Erías gave a small smile, doing his best to ignore the sting of vinegar seeping into the wound. — And you?
— Vráchos Drákanthos. — He smiled, leaning in to offer a handshake. — It's a pleasure to meet you.
Just like Erías, Vráchos had hair long enough to fall over his eyes. His light green irises radiated an innate friendliness—something his red hair and muscular frame seemed to contradict entirely.
But suddenly, his expression shifted. It became darker. Sharper.
— You seem like quite a capable warrior. — His tone grew serious. — As you may have noticed, this village is... isolated. Hidden. And there's a reason for that.
Erías nodded silently, following.
— We are a community completely separate from the government. We don't pay taxes, and we don't abide by the kingdom's laws. Which means... if anyone were to learn of this place, we'd become an easy target. — Vráchos leaned forward, the shadows creeping over his face made the next question feel all the more threatening. — So... what exactly were you doing before killing that demon?
Erías' eyes widened slightly. It hit him. Bringing him into the village... was a trap. A perfect one—if he were a spy.
Calming himself, Erías answered:
— I was headed toward the nearest city. I don't have a permanent home. Some call me a wanderer... or an adventurer, though I'm really just someone looking for decent work and a better life. Crossing paths with that demon was pure coincidence. Wrong place, wrong time.
Vráchos listened, intrigued—but still skeptical.
— That's not unheard of... — He folded his arms, thinking. — Did you leave a bad place behind?
Even as the words left his mouth, Vráchos realized how blunt that sounded. His expression tensed slightly, but he didn't retract the question.
Erías lowered his gaze, hands resting together in front of him.
— I don't have a family. My entire village... my entire people were wiped out when I was a child. — His voice was calm, but heavy. — My memories are hazy... Fire. Blood. Screams. I remember running—running with everything I had into a forest. — He sighed, adjusting his shoulder so the medic could continue. — Some images still haunt my dreams. I'm not even sure if they really happened... or if they're just hallucinations.
Vráchos nodded, a mix of interest and lingering doubt swirling in his eyes. He pressed further:
— I didn't expect that... Were you the only survivor?
— I... I'm not sure. But... I think so. — Erías' brows furrowed, not out of grief—but out of sheer frustration. — I never saw anyone else make it out alive. — He snapped his fingers lightly. — Though... there's always this one image. Someone... fighting.
— Was your village full of warriors, then?
Erías looked back up, relaxing more into the sofa as he answered:
— Honestly, I'm almost certain it was. A village like yours... made of fighters. It would explain why I was born with... abilities that go beyond normal humans. It's just a theory—but a pretty reasonable one if you ask me. — He took a deep breath before continuing. — Even though my memories from back then are fragments, there's one thing I know for sure... — His eyes hardened. — A demon did it. I don't remember the face. But the feeling... the sensation that grips my very soul when I sense a demon nearby... — His fists clenched. — It's the same feeling I had that day.
As the medic finished patching him up, Erías turned to Vráchos, curious now.
— And what about you? You told those two to get me a room. That means you've got some pull around here, right?
Vráchos gave a small chuckle, shaking his head.
— Yeah... I'm the clan leader's son. So... I guess you could say I have some authority around here.
Erías nodded in understanding.
Vráchos glanced out the window, noticing how dark the sky had become.
— Anyway... we should probably get you to that room.
Erías stood up from the sofa, nodding gratefully toward the medic. The two walked under the moonlit sky until they reached the village inn, where Vráchos spoke briefly to the attendant and arranged the room.
Once inside, Vráchos led him down the hallway to the door.
— Seriously... thank you for this. It's been a while since I've slept in a real bed. I've been roughing it in a sleeping bag these past few days.
Vráchos crossed his arms, raising one hand as if to dismiss the concern.
— Don't worry about it. After all... you saved the village from that demon. — His voice shifted—turning a little more serious. — But... if you want to repay the favor... — He paused. — I'll need your help tomorrow.
Erías blinked, trying to figure out just how far Vráchos intended to take this.
— And... what kind of help would that be?
— It's late. — Vráchos shook his head slightly. — I'll explain tomorrow. Meet me in front of the inn early. Rest well tonight.
He turned and walked toward the exit, leaving Erías standing by the door, curiosity gnawing at him.
— Thanks... I guess...
Erías unlocked the door with the key they'd given him. What had seemed like a generous gesture earlier now clearly doubled as a clever way of keeping him under surveillance.
A room in the middle of the village... surrounded on all sides.
The soft creak of the wooden floorboards kept him a little on edge. His crimson eyes scanned every corner of the room carefully.
— But hey... — He tossed his backpack against the wall. — If you've got nothing to hide... you've got nothing to fear. — A small grin tugged at his lips. — And at least... I get to sleep in a real bed tonight.
Moonlight poured through the window, casting elegant silver shades across the room.
— Way better than the dirt floor of a clearing. — He thought, finally allowing himself to relax.
His eyes drifted to the left, taking in the sight of the bed. Without hesitation, he dropped onto it.
A thousand thoughts raced through his mind, questions piling one on top of the other as he stared up at the ceiling.
— No point overthinking it now...
He closed his eyes. His body temperature cooled, his muscles relaxed, and the softness of the bed finally allowed his mind to let go.
Despite everything, Erías fell asleep with ease.