The sun sank below the horizon, setting the sky ablaze with a burning orange dusk, red as fresh blood.
At the foot of a desolate mountain, crows circled above the ruins of Kadiyan Village, filling the air with their hoarse, discordant cries.
Clop, clop, clop.
A steady rhythm of hoofbeats rolled in from the distance, shattering the silence of the dying evening.
More than a dozen security officers clad in finely wrought chainmail came galloping from the direction of Black Stone Castle, the seat of Viscount Malfor's domain.
Their armor caught the last light of the setting sun, glinting with a cold metallic sheen, and every face among them wore a grave expression.
At the head of the column rode a young knight on a pure white warhorse.
He appeared to be in his early thirties, with even, handsome features and a tall, straight posture that made him look like a javelin balanced upright in the saddle.
Most striking were his eyes, a vivid shade of blue, clear as still water yet carrying the steady composure of a seasoned man.
Unlike old knight Muller's cold severity, this young knight approached the Ice Hawks Company with a warm, easy smile, the kind that put people at ease.
"You must be the Ice Hawks Company?"
He swung down from his horse with practiced, unhurried grace and walked toward Felix and his companions, his manner open and friendly.
"My name is Karl. Viscount Malfor has dispatched me to handle the aftermath of what happened in Kadiyan Village."
Karl's voice was remarkably gentle, entirely free of any condescension.
His gaze moved across the group, settling at last on Felix.
"You've worked hard, Captain Felix."
Felix gave a modest nod in return. "You're too kind, Sir Karl."
"No need for such formality." Karl waved a hand, his smile becoming more genuine. "We are all comrades fighting to protect the domain. Consider us brothers in arms. I'll be counting on all of you in the days ahead."
His words visibly surprised everyone present. Such an approachable attitude from a noble knight was genuinely rare.
"Could you walk me through what happened here?" Karl's expression grew serious. "When word of Sir Muller's death reached the castle, Viscount Malfor was furious."
Felix drew a slow breath and began recounting the events at Kadiyan Village in full: the villagers' strange behavior, Theodore's true nature, and the bloody battle at the end.
Karl listened carefully, nodding at intervals, his face growing increasingly grave.
"Korlindra, the High Elf." When he heard the identity of the one behind it all, Karl's brow furrowed. "These transcendent beings always treat ordinary people as playthings."
There was unmistakable indignation in his voice.
"You have my sincere gratitude for what you did," he said, turning to offer his praise. "If you hadn't acted when you did, far more innocent lives would have been lost, and Sir Muller and the others would surely have been desecrated."
"Viscount Malfor has already dispatched a team of workers to come and clear every body from the village, so the dead can be given a proper burial."
Karl paused briefly before continuing. "This land will not be left to go to waste. The Viscount plans to relocate part of the population from other villages to resettle here and till the fields again. There is quite a bit of cultivated land, and it would be a shame to abandon it."
Orum stood quietly to one side, listening, and found himself forming a favorable impression of this young security officer. At the very least, he was nothing like the cold and distant Muller.
"Captain Felix, I'll need to take custody of Sir Muller's remains." Karl's voice turned solemn.
Felix nodded and led Karl to the temporary tent where the old knight's body had been laid.
At the sight of Muller's pale face, a flash of pain crossed Karl's eyes. "Sir Muller was the one who taught every one of us the sword. He showed us what a knight's honor and duty truly mean."
From the wagon, Karl retrieved an elegant oak coffin. Iron bands of deep black ran along its surface, giving it a plain but dignified appearance. Engraved at the center of the lid was a simple knight's emblem: an upright longsword, its crossguard wreathed in laurel leaves.
"This was made especially for Sir Muller," Karl said, carefully lifting the lid.
Inside, the coffin was lined with dark brown velvet. Though it lacked the luxury of silk, the fabric was soft enough and carried a faint scent of sandalwood, which would help preserve the body with care.
Karl and several of his officers worked together, gently lowering Muller's body into the coffin. His sword, his insignia, and other personal effects were placed alongside him.
"May the winds carry word of your loyalty, may the mountains and rivers remember your glory. Sir Muller, your name as a knight shall endure for all time, and your spirit shall never be extinguished." Karl rested his hand lightly on the lid, his voice catching.
The security officers then formed two lines before the coffin, removed their helmets, and bowed their heads in silence. It was a simple memorial, but solemn and dignified.
A mountain wind passed through, carrying a thread of cold. The final ember of the setting sun cast its light across everyone gathered, lending the moment a weight that was both sorrowful and stirring.
"Once we return to the castle, the Viscount will hold a full memorial ceremony in Sir Muller's honor," Karl said, replacing his helmet, his gaze hardening. "As for the treacherous souls of Kadiyan Village, their crimes will be written into the record and condemned by history."
After the ceremony concluded, Karl extended a hand to Felix. "There's one more important matter. The village headman's token and letter of appointment that belonged to Theodore should still be in your possession, yes?"
Felix reached into his coat and produced an iron token, round and roughly the size of a palm, with a satisfying heft to it.
Stamped on its face was the simplified crest of House Malfor: a heavy warhammer wrought from black stone, with several jagged bolts of lightning etched beneath the hammerhead.
Along the edge, in small but clearly legible script, was engraved the name "Kadiyan Village."
This token represented the authority Viscount Malfor had granted over the village, and it was the most direct proof of Theodore's position as village elder.
Alongside it, Felix handed over a carefully folded document on parchment. The paper had yellowed with age, its edges worn from long handling. Written across it in black ink was a dense block of text, the lettering faded with age but still perfectly legible.
Karl unfolded it and read by the last of the fading light. At the top was Viscount Malfor's personal signature, beneath which sat an elaborate red wax seal.
The body of the document laid out the core duties of a village elder in careful detail, covering the management of agriculture, the collection of rents, the organization of labor, the reporting of unusual incidents, and the maintenance of order, each obligation noted in clean, orderly script.
At the bottom, a passage written in the most authoritative tone declared: "Whosoever holds this document is recognized by this lord as the appointed elder of Kadiyan Village. All subordinate officers are forbidden from obstructing this person without cause, and violations shall be met with severe punishment."
"This letter of appointment will be returned to the archive as well." Karl refolded the document with care. "Thank you for keeping these important pieces of evidence in good order."
Together, the iron token and the parchment document served as proof of the authority Viscount Malfor had granted Theodore over the village.
Now that Kadiyan Village was utterly destroyed, these instruments of power had lost their purpose. Yet the crest and signature of the Viscount still carried official weight, and they needed to be formally retrieved. That was among the reasons Karl had made this journey.
He placed both items carefully into the leather satchel at his side.
With all the handover duties completed, Karl let out a long, slow breath, as though a great weight had lifted from his shoulders.
His whole bearing became lighter. The taut lines of his face softened, and the strict, formal air he had maintained began to ease.
"I hear that the members of the Ice Hawks also plan to explore the small dungeon nearby?"
Karl looked at Felix with a candid smile.
"That falls outside the scope of our responsibilities, so I'm afraid there's nothing I can do to assist."
He spread his hands openly to show he had nothing to offer on that front, but his eyes shone with genuine goodwill. "Even so, I sincerely hope you all come back with your hands full and find treasure beyond measure inside."
Felix smiled in return. "We appreciate the kind words. We wish you and your team a smooth operation as well, Sir Karl."
The two parties exchanged their farewells, and under Karl's watchful gaze, the Ice Hawks slowly disappeared into the gathering dark.
Once the Ice Hawks were out of sight, a young squire named Jerry made his way to Karl's side. He looked barely past twenty, with a boyish quality still showing in his face.
Jerry studied Karl with a puzzled expression.
"Karl, there's something I don't quite understand." He scratched the back of his head. "Why were you so courteous to those adventurers? They killed every single person in that village. That's worse than what bandits do."
He lowered his voice. "And on top of that, there are no other living witnesses. Shouldn't we have detained them first and questioned them thoroughly?"
A look of genuine confusion crossed Jerry's face. To him, that seemed like the proper procedure.
Karl gave Jerry a measured sideways glance.
"Because those are the Viscount's wishes."
His tone was unhurried, but it carried an authority that left no room for argument.
Jerry's jaw dropped. "The Viscount's wishes?!"
He could hardly fathom it.
The death of old knight Muller had sent shockwaves through the entire Malfor domain. And yet these adventurers, whose connection to Muller's death was tangled at every thread, had been allowed to walk away without so much as a firm word?
How could Viscount Malfor give an order like that? It was completely at odds with everything Jerry knew of the man.
He simply could not make sense of it.
Karl gave a slow shake of his head and gazed off into the distance, toward the direction the Ice Hawks had gone. His eyes gradually took on a more distant, contemplative look.
"Jerry, you're still young," he said with a quiet sigh.
"Those adventurers are Mithril-ranked. They're not the kind of people you can push around like some Bronze-grade street dog."
He paused, a faint edge of sarcasm entering his voice. "Mishandle something like this and the Adventurers' Hall will lodge a formal protest and stick their noses into the whole affair, muddying the political waters. By then, things would get considerably more complicated."
"And beyond that..." Karl's tone shifted, and a cold smile pulled at the corner of his mouth.
"The captain of the Ice Hawks is a member of House Greymane."
"I say this at the risk of overstepping, but House Malfor, for all its standing as something of a local power in the kingdom's southern reaches, is simply not in the same world as House Greymane, which has its roots planted deep in the royal capital."
The sardonic gleam in Karl's eyes sharpened. "Even the great Viscount Malfor himself must tread carefully around whatever House Greymane thinks."
"Ah, so that's it!" Jerry's face lit up with understanding. Everything clicked into place at last.
So these adventurers were not so simple after all.
They had name, and they had backing.
No wonder Karl, normally so imperious, had put on that smiling, pliable face today.
Jerry thought quietly to himself: if this had been some ordinary Bronze-ranked party that had survived a bloody massacre in a village, with no connections and no name behind them, Viscount Malfor's temper would have ensured they didn't walk away clean, even if they were allowed to live.
On the other side of the darkening countryside, the Ice Hawks had returned to their camp.
Orum noticed that once the handover with Karl was finished, Felix visibly relaxed. He leaned against the wagon with a looseness that hadn't been there before, the tension draining out of his frame.
"Captain, you seemed pretty tense during the exchange with Karl," Orum said, walking over with a curious look. "I could tell, even though you kept a calm face."
Felix let out a rueful laugh. "The fact that he clearly had no intention of making things difficult for us was already the best outcome we could have hoped for."
"Otherwise, a knight and security officer dead, an entire village wiped out..." He shook his head with a weary sigh.
"Even just going through the proper procedures and hauling us back to Viscount Malfor's seat could have tied us up for three full months. There'd have been no getting free of it."
Orum blinked. "That complicated?"
The tasks Orum had handled in the past were almost all monster hunts, and the handover process was simple: kill the target, report the job done, and walk away clean. He had never imagined that anything involving people could be so tangled and drawn out.
By that measure, the process Karl had arranged for the Ice Hawks was about as straightforward as it could possibly get. Everything was wrapped up in just a few hours, leaving them free to turn their attention to what came next.
Orum felt a quiet sense of relief.
"There's no getting around it. That's just how bureaucracy works," Felix said, then turned a curious eye toward Orum, looking him over with a measuring gaze.
"Speaking of which, your presence feels different, somehow. Heavier. Like you've grown stronger since I last noticed. What's been going on?"
Orum blinked. "Probably just the training. I've been doing push-ups every day."
Felix frowned in mild puzzlement. "Push-ups? What kind of training is that?"
He had never heard of any exercise called a "push-up."
Rather than explaining, Orum simply dropped to the ground, planted both palms flat, and lowered his body into position. "Like this."
He launched into a set of twenty, clean and controlled, his body solid and unyielding as iron. Then he shifted his weight to one arm and continued without missing a beat, single-arm push-ups flowing just as smoothly.
The immense physical strength that came with the Bugbear Tendons enhancement made a single-arm push-up feel like almost nothing at all.
Felix's eyes lit up as he watched the display of raw power. "That does look like a genuinely effective way to build muscle!" He gave an approving nod at Orum's thick, capable arms.
What Felix didn't know was that push-ups had nothing to do with why Orum's presence had changed.
At this very moment, inside Orum's chest, alongside the two human lungs he had always had, two more powerful beast lungs now sat and breathed.
During the two days of waiting for the security team dispatched by Viscount Malfor, Orum had quietly slipped away from the group under the pretext of needing to relieve himself.
Once he was out of sight, he opened his panel and received the monster organ he had earned: Forest Monitor Lizard Lung.
The transformation had not been especially agonizing. Perhaps Orum had simply grown more accustomed to it by now, hardened to that sensation of something tearing through his chest from the inside. He endured it with a kind of numb resignation and let the change run its course.
When it was done, his chest cavity was nothing like a normal person's anymore.
Not only did two hearts beat within it, driving blood with the force of a crashing wave, but four lung now filled his ribcage, forming two complete and fully functional sets of lungs.
Two hearts, four lungs. A circulatory and respiratory system of terrifying capacity.
Orum's physical limits had been pushed to a level that no human being could match. He had crossed into territory that belonged to monsters.
At a full sprint, he could now outpace the swiftest racehorse, and he could hold that pace for hours without the faintest trace of burning lactic acid building in his muscles.
Just as Felix, Ronald, and Raygore were crowding around with growing curiosity to try out push-ups for themselves, a rustling sound cut through the air.
Swoosh, swoosh, swoosh.
A shape moved like a phantom through the branches above, light and soundless, and dropped to the ground in front of Orum with the effortless grace of a black cat landing.
It was Melina. She was in noticeably better spirits today, her cheerful expression bright and youthful. Her fluffy beast ears stood straight up, twitching slightly, with an irresistible quality that made everyone want to reach out and touch them.
Her eyes were alight with excitement as she addressed her companions. "I found the dungeon entrance!"
She barely paused before adding, "And inside the entrance, there are not only goblins but quite a few slimes as well!"
Orum's eyes went wide. The unfamiliar name caught him off guard.
Slimes?!