Rebecca spent the better part of the afternoon weaving through Batong's crowded streets, stopping one passerby after another. Most gave her quick, nervous glances and vague shrugs—"Sorry, miss, never heard of it"—before hurrying on. One elderly woman actually crossed the road to avoid her. Another man muttered something about "not wanting trouble" and vanished into a side alley.
After the fifth unhelpful reply, Rebecca paused in the shade of a bakery awning, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. She let the bustle of the street wash over her for a moment, then spoke inside her mind, voice calm but edged with curiosity.
*Ora… is it just us, or are the residents of this town acting strange?*
The reply came instantly, smooth and analytical. *The tension... their eyes. They're afraid.*
"Afraid?" Rebecca's brows lifted slightly.
"Afraid of what—me?"
*Who knows.* A faint mental chuckle. *Though... keep asking, maybe soon. Try... adventurers... over there. They would... actually know... the town.*
Rebecca spotted the group—three men in worn leather armor laughing outside a tavern. She approached with her usual warm smile.
"Excuse me, gentlemen. I'm looking for a reliable blacksmith. Could you point me the right way?"
One of them, a lanky swordsman, straightened up fast. "Warner's Forge? Aye, just past the old mill, take the left fork by the abandoned well. Can't miss the smoke and the hammering."
"Thank you," she said sweetly. "You've been more help than half the town combined."
The dwarf-owned smithy came into view a short while later. Rebecca stopped outside the open doors, reading the weathered sign aloud.
"Warner's Forge…"
Inside, the clang of hammers and the crackle of the forge fire mixed with two raised voices arguing over something about "An arrival." She stepped deeper into the heat and smoke.
"Is anyone here? I'm looking for Warner!"
A short, muscular dwarf stomped out from behind an anvil, beard singed at the tips, arms thick as tree trunks. "I'm Warner. Who's askin'?"
Rebecca offered a polite smile. "I want to commission you for a pair of sickles—something better than these." She drew her current pair and held them out for inspection.
Warner took them, turning the blades over with a critical eye. "What kind of blacksmith apprentice made this rubbish? Looks like a child hammered 'em in the dark."
Rebecca couldn't help a wry smile, already imagining Ehis's indignant face if he ever heard that.
The dwarf's gaze then flicked to the massive scythe strapped across her back. "Now *that*… that's proper work. Don't think I could do better with the resources I've got here."
She chuckled softly at the compliment, warmth blooming in her chest.
The moment was cut short when the second man—a human with grease-stained hands—stepped out from the back. He froze, eyes widening. "That's her," he muttered, tapping Warner's shoulder.
Before Rebecca could even turn fully, the man bolted for the door. "Got somewhere to be—sorry!"
Warner scratched his beard, looking mildly amused. "So you're the lass who took down an orc commander single-handed. Don't look at me like that, news flies fast in this town."
Rebecca turned back to him, eyebrow raised. "Is that why the entire town is acting like I carry the plague? They're afraid of *me*?"
The dwarf snorted. "Not you, lass. There's a bandit group holed up somewhere in the woods along the road to Bright Town. Been hitting caravans hard lately. Folks are jumpy."
"Bright Town…" Rebecca murmured, filing the name away.
Warner stroked his beard again, thoughtful. "Tell you what. You help clear out those bastards, and I'll forge you the finest pair of sickles you've ever laid eyes on. Best steel, perfect balance. How's that sound?"
Rebecca's expression turned considering, one finger tapping her chin.
"You won't be alone," Warner added quickly. "I was already planning to commission the best adventurer party in town. So… will ya?"
Inside her mind, Ora's voice was quiet. *Something's missing… but let's... accept it. For now.*
Rebecca smiled and extended her hand. "Deal."
Warner's rough palm met hers in a firm shake.
"When will the request be posted at the guild?" she asked. "And how do I meet this party?"
"Slow down, lady," the dwarf laughed. "It's a personal commission—I ain't posting it. Meet the party tomorrow morning, right here at first light. Sound good?"
Rebecca blinked in surprise, then nodded. "Hmm. Thank you." She collected her old sickles, gave Warner a respectful nod, and stepped back out into the late afternoon sun.
As they walked down the winding road toward the inn, the sky had already deepened into twilight. Rebecca glanced up at the rising moon and sighed softly.
"It's gotten late. Should we head back to the inn?"
Ora's voice was calm but firm. *No. Let's go... a midnight stroll.*
Rebecca didn't hesitate. She ducked into the nearest alley, checked that no one was watching, and activated [Stealth] and [Camouflage]. The world around her blurred into soft shadows. With a powerful leap she landed lightly on a windowsill two stories up, then sprang into the air. For one breathtaking second the moon framed her silhouette against the night sky before she landed silently on the rooftops and began running across them like a living shadow—destination: the slums.
After navigating the roofs she arrived and carefully dropped down at the edge of the poorer district, crossing a rickety wooden bridge while keeping her head low. Ahead, three men staggered along, laughing drunkenly. Ora guided her with a quiet mental nudge, steering her away to avoid trouble so close to the main street.
The slums unfolded around her: half-finished huts leaning at dangerous angles, ragged tents patched with sackcloth, and people simply sleeping on the bare ground. Faces of all ages—children huddled together, elders staring with hollow eyes—watched her pass in silence.
"What exactly are we looking for?" Rebecca asked inside her mind.
Ora's reply was clipped and annoyed. *Nothing... worth effort. Let's find... previous bunch.*
Rebecca understanding his meaning activated [Enhanced Senses]. The scent of the three men—sweat, cheap ale, and something sharper—flooded her nose. She dashed through the narrow lanes, after sometime the ground seemed to be littered with scattered stones that formed a makeshift cementary of unmarked graves.
Beyond the graveyard the atmosphere shifted. The air grew thicker, heavier. Rebecca took a slow inhale, turned right, and soon reached a weathered fence. She peered through the gaps.
"Haaghh… haah… Stop—please, let me go!"
In the alley across the way, two men were roughly fucking a streetside prostitute against the wall. One thrust into her from behind with brutal, rapid strokes while the other waited his turn, stroking himself. The woman's moans were broken, protesting.
Rebecca leaped, landing silently atop the fence like a predator.
The man facing her suddenly froze mid-thrust, eyes widening at the shadow above him.
"Hey, you done? Get out of the way—it's my turn," the waiting man called eagerly—until he noticed the unnatural silhouette and looked up.
The next instant Rebecca dropped down, rage burning in her eyes, ready to lunge.
Her body froze.
Dozens of thick, purplish-red tentacles erupted from her back with wet, fleshy sounds, slamming into the ground like living whips. One man and the prostitute collapsed instantly fear rising in their hearts. The other two tried to run. One tripped over his fallen companion's leg; the second was grabbed by the terrified woman clawing at him in panic.
As they scrambled, clawing and shoving each other in blind terror, tentacles coiled around their ankles and pricked them with needle-sharp tips. All three winced, then their strength drained away in seconds. They collapsed sobbing, piss soaking their trousers, bodies twitching helplessly.
The main mass of tentacles dragged them closer.
Rebecca's eyes widened when she saw the woman still conscious, trembling on the ground. *Ora must have plans for her,* she thought, stepping forward with open hands, voice gentle. "It's alright, dear. I won't let them hurt you anymore. Just breathe—"
The pyramid-shaped beak at the center of the tentacle mass opened first for the nearest man. It clamped around his skull with a wet *crunch*, the serated edge shearing through bone like wet wood. His eyes bulged for one frozen second before the beak twisted, ripping the head clean off in a spray of arterial blood that painted the alley wall. The body convulsed as tentacles yanked it inward; ribs snapped like dry twigs, lungs collapsed with a gurgling wheeze, and the torso folded inward with sickening pops until only a crumpled sack of meat remained.
The second man screamed as the beak opened wider this time, swallowing his entire upper body in one grotesque gulp. Flesh tore audibly, vertebrae grinding to powder between rows of serrated teeth. Intestines spilled out in steaming loops before being sucked back in, the sound wet and slurping, until the legs kicked once and went limp.
The third tried to crawl away on broken nails, but tentacles lifted him upside-down. The beak bit through his pelvis first—hips cracking like eggshells, blood and urine mixing in a hot flood—then worked upward, cutting through spine and organs in methodical, crunching bites that left only twitching feet dangling before they too vanished.
Rebecca moved toward the woman, still believing she would be spared. "Shh, it's over now. You're safe—"
The beak expanded with a wet rippling sound, jaws unhinging like a serpent's. Before Rebecca could reach her, it snapped forward and severed the woman's head in one clean, brutal bite. Hot blood fountained straight into Rebecca's face—thick, coppery, and warm—splattering across her cheeks, lips, and chest. The headless body jerked upright for a horrifying second, then the tentacles dragged it in. The beak crushed the torso with wet, grinding crunches, ribs collapsing inward, organs bursting with soft squelches, until the entire corpse disappeared in rapid, greedy gulps.
Rebecca stood frozen, blood dripping from her chin, eyes wide with genuine shock. *Ora… you…*
The tentacles cleaned the alley with eerie precision—wiping every drop of blood from the walls, scooping up stray tissue and fluids, leaving the ground spotless except for the faint metallic tang lingering in the air.
They merged back into Rebecca's body. She remained motionless, face and clothes streaked crimson, chest rising in shallow, stunned breaths.
A single slender tendril sprouted gently from her neck and tapped her cheek twice, jarring her awake.
*Let's... return,* Ora said in her mind. *Busy tomorrow.*
Inside Rebecca's thoughts, a quiet, almost affectionate whisper echoed:
"Because Master is so smart… I sometimes forget that he is a monster. And I was just a lucky person… a suitable host. I wonder if I too will suffer a similar fate."