Demons were, as everyone already knew, the monsters that heralded the arrival of the [Demon King]. Or more precisely, the war that would come with the [Demon King]. In the holy books of Nastild they were very much like the demons Christians spoke greatly of and priests saw in visions and in the eyes of those who did things no normal person should.

  They were a race that identified themselves as superior. Existing only to conquer kill and destroy, they were to the people of Nastild what the Vikings were to their victims. But most importantly, they were stories, creatures that existed in times so ancient that none had been seen since the last era of civilization.

  Still, everyone was wary of them. It was the way with religion and prophecy. You did not fear that the devil would walk into your room one day and attempt to fleece you, yet you were afraid of the devil, nonetheless.

  That was how Nastild viewed demons. When you spoke or heard of them, you blessed yourself with a sign of the church. You scared your children with them when they were a little too naughty. You called your very terrible friend a demon and often used it in jest.

  But deep down in everyone’s hearts they worried and waited, hoping that the rising darkness prophesied in the holy books did not come in their day. They walked into the churches and prayed their prayers. Let the demons pass them by. Let the [Demon King] rise not in their days or in the days of their children or in the days of their children’s children.

  They prayed these prayers as if it was alright if it happened a little farther down the line of generations. Better if it was to children who would not remember your name as if their blood would be too diluted for you to care what became of them.

  Never had Aiden heard of a person pray that the [Demon King] would never rise. Then again, so was the way of the people of Nastild.

  So, to hear Norlam speak so easily of a demon being present sent a shiver up his spine. From what he could remember, it would be years before the first demon appearance. It begged the question of if the man was lying.

  Looking into Norlam’s bloodshot eyes, Aiden didn’t think he was.

  “And where is it?” he asked, pretending to know what he was talking about. “Where has it hidden itself?”

  Norlam’s brows furrowed, and Aiden suspected that he had said the wrong words.

  “It seems like you don’t know everything,” the man said with a wry smile. “You don’t even know enough to—”

  Aiden slapped him. Norlam’s silence was abrupt, his words cut off by Aiden’s action. Anyone with half a functioning eye would see that it wasn’t the pain of the slap that silenced Norlam but the shock of it.

  Aiden looked left, then right. He wanted a chair to sit on and found none. The explosion born of mixing the enchantments of force, gas, and flame had torn the chairs nearby to shreds.

  In the end, he settled for standing. Maybe it was for the better. The thought of sitting in his blood-soaked clothes didn’t really appeal to him.

  “Here’s what’s happening, Norlam.” He leaned in, stared into the man’s eyes. “You will die here. I believe I have already told you that. Whatever benefit you find yourself believing the demon holds for you, you will not enjoy it, even though I doubt you ever will. Am I clear so far?”

  Norlam nodded.

  “Good,” Aiden said. “Now, I will not waste any more of our time. A companion of mine is already in the forest dealing with the men you have working on whatever it is they are working on. He is smart, resourceful. Not as brutal as I am but brutal enough. Before the sun is up, they will also be dead. That said, you either help me with the demon so it can be dealt with tonight or you just make my work annoying and it will be dealt with in seven days.”

  A half-smile, almost a smirk, touched Norlam’s lips. “And what if I choose seven days?”

  “Then you’ll be alive for seven days,” Aiden said with a shrug. “I will keep you here, and every day, after my investigations, I will come in and have a conversation with you that will not involve words. And every day you will beg me to listen to what you want to tell me, and it will make no difference.”

  Norlam paled slightly. “You’re a monster.”

  “And you are prey. It makes no difference to me.” Aiden stood back and drew his second sword from its sheath. “Now, what’s it going to be? Do I get to work or do you help my ministry?”

  Norlam was silent for a while. His mind worked like an overridden jepat with a master that continued to whip it. He was pushing his thinking capacity into overdrive.

  Aiden waited with his attention on the man. Not knowing the full scope of Norlam’s skills and abilities, it was very possible that the man was buying time, maybe healing himself or something along those lines.

  The idea did not worry Aiden. There had been no demon from this place that had caused any problems in his past life. If there truly was a demon, it was largely unimportant. He was not afraid of not finding it. That was not to say that he would not try.

  When Norlam had spoken of the demon, the impossibility of it had crossed Aiden’s mind. In fact, he had almost dismissed the idea as nothing but a lie from the lips of a confused man. Demons had not become a problem until years from now. However, there was just a small piece of recent history that couldn’t allow Aiden to accept those terms.

  Gargoyles had also not appeared until years later. But Aiden had seen them recently. Fought them and won. There was much to the appearance of demons that he did not know.

  “There is a cave south of the forest,” Norlam said, finally ending his thoughts. “Within you will find a rock formation. It is false. An illusion cast by my illusionist. You will find the demon there.”

  “Do you know what kind of demon it is?” Aiden asked.

  It was a long shot since the different kinds of demons were not common knowledge. To the world there were demons and that was all there was to it. Asking someone what type of demon they met was like asking someone what type of snake they’d run from. Ultimately, it was a snake. The end.

  Unsurprisingly, Norlam shook his head.

  “Then how did you know it was a demon?” Aiden asked.

  Norlam sucked in a labored breath and let it out. “Because it had demonic mana. I felt it, and it promised to grant it to me. With demonic mana I could be stronger, as strong as the demons in the stories. I could stand at the top of the food chain.”

  The man had gone from passing information to ranting. Aiden could see the ecstasy that came with the simple promise of the possibility in the man’s eyes.

  The allure of power. As interesting at it was, Aiden thought it was stupid on Norlam’s part. There was nowhere in known Nastild history where a demon granted a person demonic mana that became their own.

  “Let me guess, that’s the reason you needed more bodies,” Aiden said, shaking his head. “You weren’t killing them. The demon was. Growing stronger so that it could grant your desire.”

  Norlam said nothing, but he saw it in the man’s eyes. He was right.

  Aiden almost laughed. The man was a fool.

  But it didn’t matter.

  “The demon lied to you, chief,” Aiden said, swinging his sword from side to side. “You were never going to get any power from it. It was only growing stronger, biding its time. You were a fool. But don’t feel too bad. Most people tend to be. I guess we’re done here.”

  A confused frown creased Norlam’s brows. “You believe me? You won’t confirm that my words are true?”

  Aiden shrugged. “Personally, I don’t mind realizing that I’ve been lied to because it’s not my fault for believing you, it’s your fault for lying to me.”

  Norlam’s eyes widened in terror and he pulled himself against the sword pinning him to the wall with all his might. He rampaged in place struggling and tugging. He moved his broken arm, roaring in pain as he did, and grabbed the sword by the hilt.

  Aiden stood in place, watching without worry. A lot of people tended to underestimate just how weak a broken arm was. Pain came with moving a broken arm, and that was just moving it. Using it to perform an actual task was on a different level of pain than most people understood. The arm worked with less than half its actual strength or efficiency, and the more you tried to get out of it, the greater the pain.

  In Norlam’s case, it would be worse. The man had actually gotten through the pain and succeeded in grabbing the sword by the hilt. Now he fought against pain on multiple fronts. It was not an easy thing to pull a sword out of yourself, worse if the sword has been run through a solid wall.

  Norlam succeeded—to Aiden’s surprise—in pulling half an inch of the sword free before succumbing to his pain. His broken arm fell numb to his side and he panted like a man who’d run two marathons.

  Aiden waited a little longer, watched him. He had not seen this version of the man in his past life—he had not seen him when he was transformed. Yet he had haunted my dreams for a while.

  It was a humbling thing to remember how weak he had once been.

  “Are you done?” he asked casually, making sure the man understood that he had not been bothered in the slightest.

  Norlam raised frantic eyes to meet him. “You cannot kill me,” he said.

  “Why?” Aiden posed the question like an adult would to a child. “What makes you so special?”

  “It’s the king’s law,” Norlam said hurriedly. “You are not permitted to kill another man.”

  Aiden wanted to laugh. “But you are?”

  “My actions are crimes. Crimes punishable by the king’s law.”

  “If you are arrested, only one fate awaits you. Death.”

  “I am very much aware,” Norlam agreed. “But that is for the king’s law to decide.”

  The king’s law would find Norlam guilty and sentence him to death. The only difference between now and then would be the method of death. They would leave him for the monsters to devour, that way nobody benefited from the possible level increase that came with killing someone of the same species.

  Aiden sighed like a man tired of a farce. “What gives you the impression that I answer to the king’s law, Norlam?”

  “Everyone answers to the king’s law,” Norlam said in a panic. “There is a knight present with a group of investigators on the matter of the missing people.” He was threatening now, hoping. “They said that they have questions for me. What do you think will happen when they come and find me dead? They will investigate. Once they do, they will find you. No one escapes the king’s investigators.”

  “If I don’t kill you, they’ll find all the bodies, though,” Aiden pointed out, wondering how Norlam was going to spin the conversation.

  “It is a simple matter to deal with. Given enough time I can clean it all up.”

  “Which means that given enough time I can clean it all up, too,” Aiden pointed out. “Also, like I said, I have no business with the king’s law. If I—”

  “Please don’t kill me,” Norlam pleaded, interrupting him. “I beg off—”

  Anger bubbled inside Aiden so suddenly it was like a typhoon. “For the love of God! Take your death like the man that you are!” he snapped. “You lived a life filled with killing! You killed confidently! Now die confidently, for fuck’s sake!”

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Silence settled on the room with the end of his words. Norlam said nothing. The only sound anyone listening would hear was the uneven panting. His careless breathing. The silence was witness to his dying breaths.

  Norlam let his head fall. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ve killed far too many and tried to kill you, too. As someone who knows what it means to be a victor, this is not a sight I should show to my victor.” He lifted his head and met Aiden’s gaze once more. “I hope you find your demon.”

  Aiden really couldn’t care less about the demon.

  Lifting his sword, he placed the point of its blade against Norlam’s neck. Norlam flinched at the touch of the blade but stopped himself.

  “I’ll at least die like a man,” Norlam said, closing his eyes.

  Aiden snorted in amusement. “I intend on killing you like a dog, you piece of shit.”

  The words were intended to take away Norlam's acceptance and serenity, to snatch away the peace he had just gained.

  And it worked.

  Norlam’s eyes snapped open in fear, wide as saucers. His mouth opened and he cried out. “You woul—”

  Aiden pushed forward and slid the blade of his sword into his neck, silencing him.

  [You have dealt Norlam a Fatal Blow!]

  [Congratulations! You have slain Norlam Lvl 59!]

  …

  [You have slain one with the class Cannibal]

  [You have slain an unnatural predator of your kind]

  Withdrawing his sword, Aiden swung it in an arc to rid it of what blood he could. There was still much left on the blade. Since there was nothing he could do about it, he sheathed the blade regardless. He did the same for the second sword, pulling it free from Norlam’s chest, swinging it in an arc, and sheathing it as well.

  With nothing to hold it up, Norlam’s body dropped, crumbling to the ground. Looking down at it, Aiden felt no sense of peace or fulfillment. It did not matter. He hadn’t done this to feel some sense of fulfillment. He had done it because he’d wanted to.

  Often times people mistake those who seek vengeance. They tell them of how it would not bring them peace or change what had happened. They were right, but they were also wrong in one thing. People who were smart, cold and calculated do not seek vengeance because they are looking for peace or to change the past. They seek it because it is what they want.

  This wasn’t vengeance, Aiden thought as he turned and walked out of the office. It was simply necessary.

  With his new title and the evolution of [Basic Swordsmanship] to [Intermediary Swordsmanship] he was curious.

  He pulled up his personal details.

  [Name - Aiden Lacheart]

  [Species- Human]

  [Age – 19]

  [Class- Weaver Lvl 49]

  [Class Skill]

  [Enchanted Weave (Mastery 75.05%)], [Walking Canvas (Mastery 38.29%)], [Unarmed Engrave (Mastery 29.38%)], [Modify Engrave (Mastery 10.41%], [Broken Weave (Mastery 02.91%)], [Locked (Mastery 0.50%)(U)], [Fate Walker (Mastery 0.00%)(U)]

  [Affiliation]

  [Kingdom of Bandiv].

  [Title]

  [Goblin Slayer], [Defier], [Protector], [Stone Guard], [Giant Slayer], [Unfettered], [Unnatural Hunter].

  [Skill]

  [Tongue of the Visitor (Mastery 100%)], [Intermediary Swordsmanship (Mastery 02.00%)], [Unarmed combat (Mastery 78.40%)], [Willpower (Mastery 07.40%)], [Mana manipulation (Mastery 59.22%)], [Basic Enchant (Mastery 62.17%)], [Dagger-wield (Mastery 19.53%)], [Stealth (Mastery 04.01%)], [Detect (Mastery 31.11%)], [Lockpicking (Mastery 02.10%)], [Leap (Mastery 15.94%)], [Pathfinder (Mastery 06.32%)(U)), [Spearmanship (Mastery 03.48%)],

  [Stats]

  [Dexterity 26], [Agility 18], [Mana 26], [Speed 23], [Perception 20], [Strength 17]

  [Traits]

  [Spatial Crack (Level 49)]

  [Life]

  [Health 63%], [Stamina 29%], [Mana 52%].

  There were skills he wasn’t using. [Stealth], [Spearmanship], [Lockpicking] and [Daggerwield] had not moved by up to a percent. But he couldn’t hold it against them. He’d gained the skills not out of necessity but because they were there to gain. Two of the skills were there because he sought to gain the [Weaponmaster] skill which only came when you had enough weapon skills. As for [Stealth], it was difficult to grow it if you weren’t using it often. And if you were strong enough, you would rarely have a need to sneak around.

  Achieving what he had done tonight in his past life would most likely have raised the mastery of [Stealth] by a large margin. He would’ve had to sneak around and kill discreetly. But things were different now. Aiden Lacheart was different now.

  [Fate Walker], he mused as he climbed down the stairs of the building. It was the only real odd skill in the pile. As a class skill, he’d gained it as an effect of the title [Unfettered]. A passive skill, it simply said that he was an anomaly.

  It came to life as he focused on it.

  [Fate Walker (Mastery 0.00%)(U)]

  You have realized your existence at the edge of fate. You walk where even gods fear to tread. You are an anomaly unknown.

  If it’s still zero then I guess I still haven’t used it, he thought.

  There were also class skills that he didn’t use often, but that was not a problem. It was in the way of class skills to eventually be used whether you liked them or not. As for his level… well, that was the thing with levels just before each fiftieth level mark. You could be stuck there forever, until you found your manifesting skill.

  And knowing the type of manifesting skill he wanted, Aiden knew he would be stuck for a while. Unless he made a mistake and manifested a skill he didn’t want. He planned to wield the manifesting skills of the great enchanters of myths. Beings capable of activating enchantments without even being in physical contact with the items. To achieve that, he would need enemies, a good number of them.

  And these enemies had to give him a run for his money. As ironic and hypocritical as it sounded, he needed to do to himself what Brandis had done to Valdan.

  Aiden cast the worrying thoughts from his mind as he stepped out of the building and into the cold night. He could barely feel the chill. At the door, a welcome mat for all to see, lay the corpse of the first man he’d slayed tonight. A massive man maybe seven feet tall.

  Checking his blackened arm, Aiden pulled his sleeve back. Only the hand was red, the rest of the arm remained black as night. It would grow back into its complete black in time. Now the arm was another thing he needed to keep his attention on. He was getting the hang of it, learning to manipulate enchantments using it. As long as he knew when it turned completely red, he would be fine. The last thing he needed was to use [Enchanted Weave] at an important moment only for the skill to fail because of the arm.

  Ignoring the corpse in front of the building, he went on his way. Come morning, the entire town would be aware of the bloodbath that had happened here, but he would not be here to witness it.

  Come morning, he would be gone.

  For now, he had a cave to find.

  …

  The air was cool, gentle with a welcoming smell. Walking into the waiting area Elaswit was met with the sight of a receptionist behind a wide desk. The receptionist wore spectacles, an unnecessary accessory unless it was enchanted or spelled to grant advanced ocular benefits or something else. There was scarcely a person on Nastild old enough to have an interface with bad eyesight.

  Unless you’ve fallen to great problems, she corrected herself as she approached the table.

  Her cleaver hung from her back. With its handle protruding from over one shoulder, the end of its massive blade was visible at the bottom. With her shawl covering half her face with at least nine different enchantments hand stitched into it by her mother, she struck the visage of a mysterious mercenary.

  The receptionist watched her curiously as she approached. And just as the lady tried to scrutinize her, Elaswit scrutinized the lady. Her ears seemed a little pointed at the top where most people’s were rounded. Rumors had it that such people had some form of elven blood in them, inherited from elven ancestors from civilizations past. Eons ago, before the sundering, the separation of humans from mythical beings. It was a difficult happening to believe if it was not written in the holy books and the black pillars that pierced the skies didn’t litter specific points in Nastild.

  The woman behind the desk had brown long hair that she kept in a neat bun atop her hair. If Elaswit was a good judge of age by looks, she would place the lady somewhere in her late thirties, maybe her early forties.

  Perhaps noticing Elaswit’s attention on her as well, the receptionist turned her eyes down to her table as if checking something.

  The waiting area of the relatively small inn was illuminated by orbs that released light the color of the sun, dousing the entire room in a soft yellow glow. With chairs and comfortable couches interspaced over brown marble floors Elaswit had half expected at least one or two people to be in the waiting area. There was none. Not a single soul.

  “I hope the night finds you well,” she greeted when she got to the receptionist.

  The lady returned her greeting with a nod. “And you,” she said.

  Elaswit nodded in acceptance, then made a show of looking around. “I was expecting to find guests waiting around. You have a nice waiting area.”

  The receptionist smiled kindly, politely. “Thank you, ma’am.”

  Most people—Aiden Lacheart—were averse to small talk, but what they didn’t understand was that small talk could get you leverages and pieces of information that being a brooding and silent man would not. As her mother always said: “A well placed compliment will have doors opening that the grandest enchantments would not even know existed.”

  “Is there a reason for the emptiness?” Elaswit asked with a smile that reached her eyes. “Because by the life of me I cannot imagine people would not like your company.”

  The smile remained on the lady’s face, but a touch of wariness crept into it. Elaswit wondered if she had been a little heavy on the friendliness.

  “Here at Bone Marrow, we pride ourselves on a zero waiting time,” the lady said, counting out the words as if reading from a book. “We like to keep our patrons in their rooms or using the amenities the inn has to offer.”

  “I see.” Elaswit nodded in understanding, trying to conceal her reaction to the inn’s name. Who named their inn ‘Bone marrow’. “Well, it’s good to know. But as tempting as it is to book a room here, I fear I am only here for a visit.”

  “A visit?” the receptionist echoed.

  Elaswit nodded again. “I have a friend who stopped by here earlier and I am trying to get a hold of him.”

  The receptionist looked down and started thumbing through a large book. “And what is this friend’s name?” she asked without looking up. “And do you know how recently they checked in?”

  Elaswit held out a hand to draw the lady’s attention from the book. “He was here to visit someone else. Sadly, I don’t know who.”

  This was the fourth inn she was walking into since she and Aiden had parted ways earlier in the night. She’d gone to the inn Sir Thompfer was supposed to be in and had learnt that he had stepped out after being visited by two others. She had employed the same tactics of conversation in each in hoping to stumble upon Sir Thompfer’s destination.

  For some reason, fear of failure plagued her with each inn she walked into. Of all the tasks shared between her, Aiden and Valdan, hers seemed like the easiest, even if a little important. She really didn’t want to fail at it.

  “If you don’t know all these,” the receptionist pointed out kindly, “then I won’t be able to help you ma’am.”

  Elaswit kept her stressed frown from her face. “I’m really sorry to make it difficult. But I had just been in his room where we were supposed to meet, and he left me a note saying that he would be here.” No such note existed from Sir Thompfer. “If your visitors check in their names, his name is Sir Thompfer. He’s a knight.”

  Recognition filled the lady’s eyes. Not at the name, but at the title.

  “There was a knight in here earlier,” she said. “I don’t remember his name, but he was here were two others to see one of our guests.”

  Elaswit brightened. She was happy to know that she would not fail such a simple task. “May I know what room he visited?”

  “It won’t matter,” the woman said, closing the book in front of her.

  Elaswit found her elation dying like a fish out of water. “Why?”

  “Because they are no longer around,” the lady answered. “Your knight friend came in and got into a fight with the guest upstairs.”

  That was surprising. “Where they at odds with each other?”

  “Not from what I saw at the end,” the lady said. “The problem, from what I learnt, was that when they visited, there was a terrifying creature in the room and they ended up fighting it. It later turned out to be a summoned familiar. But they are no longer around. They left after the fight.”

  Elaswit almost groaned. The night was getting old, and she still hadn’t found them. The very idea of going on another search was annoying to think about.

  Holding up her hand, she summoned her bank card. The action was intentional, designed to let the lady know that she had money to spend. A bank card and a storage ring was the purview of someone that did not have a problem coming by money, after all.

  She watched the shimmering refraction of light that came with pulling items out of the storage space catch the lady’s eye before she spoke again.

  “If you can give me any useful information on how to find them, I’ll handle the damages caused from their fight. Maybe there might even be a show of appreciation for you.”

  The lady’s ears perked up at the offer and her eyes twinkled at the thought of money.

  “The forest,” she said without hesitation. “I heard them talking about looking for a friend in the forest.”

  “All four of them?” Elaswit asked.

  The lady nodded. “All four of them.”

  “Thanks,” Elaswit said, placing her card on the table. “Now, how much do I owe this fine establishment?”

  …

  A very confused and repulsed frown marred Valdan’s lips as he kept the adventurer named Jaderd standing frozen at the tip of his sword. In his rage he had taken a man’s life, but that was not the thing that had him confused.

  His interface was the source of his confusion and disgust.

  [You have dealt Denal a Fatal Blow!]

  [You have slain Denal Lvl 42!]

  …

  [You have slain one with the title Cannibal]

  [You have slain an unnatural predator of your kind.]

  What the hell was a cannibal doing in a town like this. Such titles were hard to come by. And even when you came by such titles, it was usually in some slum somewhere where something as simple as water was hard to come by. Or in a small town stricken by famine for so long.

  Not in a comfortable town like this.

  His eyes settled on the adventurer still standing at the end of his sword. Did the man know? Was there something to this place that was really bad that Aiden knew?

  When you find what you’re looking for, I won’t need to motivate you to kill them, Aiden’s words slithered into his mind from when he had directed Valdan to follow them.

  Aiden knew too many things, far too many for the explanations or lacking explanations he gave. It was easy to believe that Aiden had known exactly what Valdan would discover. And he was right. He could find it in his heart to forgive people who ate other humans because it was either that or die. But eating one human was not enough to gain the title of [Cannibal].

  Are you also a cannibal? He thought, staring daggers at Jaderd. The man looked cautious but not scared. A true adventurer.

  He had questions for the man, a lot of them. With all the questions floating around, he settled for only one as his grip tightened around the hilt of his sword and he fought against the urge to take a life.

  The words had barely touched his tongue when his interface appeared in front of him giving him a worrying piece of information.

  [Mana 62%]

  [Mana 59%]

  [Mana 68%]

  Valdan knew of only one thing that made a person’s mana fluctuate so chaotically unprovoked.

  Demonic mana.

  The blood of the dead Denal irrigated the grass beneath them as Valdan asked the only question his rage and newfound confusion allowed him.

  “What, in the name of the gods, is going on here?”