Chapter 15: Foul Omens and the Demonic Path

Chapter 15

“Hooch.”

At Captain Cambern’s call, Hooch raised his head.

The Captain gestured with his chin, and Hooch, his face grim, approached the nearest corpse.

After examining it from various angles, Hooch’s face turned ashen, as if he were about to vomit.

“It seems less than a day has passed since their death.”

“It appears to be the work of monsters.”

“It doesn’t feel like *just* the work of monsters.”

“Let’s turn back. We cannot proceed on this road. I will speak to the merchant leader. Everyone, move quietly.”

Hooch and the other mercenaries, their faces stiff with unease, nodded their heads and relayed the Captain’s orders to the others.

As they turned the horses and changed the direction of the wagons, the Captain conveyed to the merchant leader that they needed to find another route.

Though phrased as an opinion, it was already a decided matter, and the merchant leader had no intention of protesting.

Terrified, the merchant leader yearned to escape this hell immediately.

They safely departed the entrance of the campsite and moved onto a different path.

Unfortunately, this particular path was heavily wooded on both sides, making visibility difficult, a reason they usually avoided it.

“Do not let your guard down.”

Captain Cambern instructed his mercenaries.

Even without his command, everyone remained taut with tension, vigilant of their surroundings.

After all, their very lives were at stake.

“Captain, wouldn’t it be better to return to Nudan?”

Hooch approached the Captain and asked quietly. Cambern shook his head.

“Harvenya is closer than Nudan. We must keep going.”

“This feels ominous. It looks like the work of monsters, yet we see few monster corpses, do we? It makes no sense that so many mercenaries couldn’t kill a few monsters. And as you saw the bodies, Captain, there are even signs of weapons being used. What kind of monsters use weapons? Unless it’s the ‘Foul Fey’…”

Captain Cambern glared at Hooch with a fierce gaze.

“Don’t speak such ill omens. Those creatures were purged 120 years ago. Their lineage was completely eradicated. Whether it was the massacre at Thron Village or this, why do you keep bringing up such things? If not monsters, then this campsite, like Thron Village recently, must be the work of bandits.”

“But Captain, if they were bandits, they would have taken valuables. Coins were scattered around the campsite, and precious items were untouched, weren’t they? The Thron Village survivor also said it: ‘The demons have returned.’ Perhaps, after 120 years, the ‘Wave’ is truly about to begin again…”

“Silence that mouth. If that were the case, a revelation would have been sent to the Church, and the Royal Army would have prepared. That survivor merely went mad from the shock of witnessing their family’s murder.”

“If it’s not the ‘Wave’ coming, then isn’t the most likely possibility the work of a black mage?”

“I said be silent! You’ll say anything to return to Nudan, won’t you?”

At Captain Cambern’s angry outburst, the party members glanced back nervously.

Hooch could no longer argue, pressing his lips together and bowing his head.

Just as the Captain had said, Hooch desperately wanted to return to Nudan.

He believed it was foolish to continue after witnessing what had transpired at the campsite.

Furthermore, when Hooch had examined them, the people at the campsite appeared to have been dead for less than a full day.

This implied a high probability that whatever caused it—be it monsters, bandits, or Foul Fey—was still in the vicinity.

In such a situation, turning back was the better option.

‘If only the Vice-Captain were still alive.’

On the eleventh night of their journey from Mejiten to Nudan.

Hooch clicked his tongue inwardly, recalling the mercenary who had died protecting Hay Styles.

If the Vice-Captain had been alive, he would likely have shared the same opinion.

Only now did Hooch truly grasp the immense loss of having lost the most capable and intelligent person in their mercenary company.

Captain Cambern had almost unconditionally trusted the words of his clever Vice-Captain, who had saved the company from peril numerous times.

The lives of nearly a hundred people hung in the balance on this journey. Yet, the Captain, who needed to make a cold, rational judgment, was visibly terrified, even if he tried not to show it.

If the Captain misjudged, everyone here could end up just like the people at the campsite.

And was it only the campsite?

Hooch recalled an incident he had witnessed with his own eyes a few weeks prior.

Thron Village, under the rule of the Nudan lord.

The sole survivor, fleeing a monster attack, reached Nudan, covered in blood, riding a mule.

He informed the guards at the city gate that monsters had invaded his village, and a soldier rode off to report to the lord.

The lord hired mercenaries and sent them, along with an investigation party, to Thron Village the following day.

The hired mercenaries included Captain Cambern’s company.

What they saw in Thron Village was no different from the tragedy at the campsite.

The villagers, men, women, and children alike, had been massacred. It seemed they hadn’t even been able to put up a proper fight.

When asked about the circumstances, the deranged survivor, lost in a trance, repeated only one phrase:

‘The demons have returned. The demons have returned…’

Perhaps, as Captain Cambern suggested, the survivor was simply mad from shock. But those words had caused many to express concern.

‘Could the Foul Fey have returned?’

‘Is a black mage using monsters to bring about a disaster?’

‘Perhaps the Demon Lords are plotting to invade the continent once more!’

The Lord of Nudan, however, attributed it to bandits.

He even placed bounties on the heads of all bandits within his territory. In essence, he gambled with bandits’ lives to quell the unease of his populace.

This was likely similar to Captain Cambern’s current reason for ignoring the evidence before him and pressing onward.

With a surge of anxiety, Hooch bit his lower lip and tightened his grip on the reins.

His eyes, like those of his comrades, scanned their surroundings vigilantly. Since the Captain had decided to continue, they had no choice but to go.

Above, crows cawed and flapped their wings.

People’s gazes naturally turned skyward.

For some reason, flocks of crows were flying in formation.

As everyone’s attention was drawn to the sky, Hooch sensed an unfamiliar presence.

It was different from the sounds of their own movement—the horses’ hooves, the people’s footsteps, and the rolling wagon wheels.

Hooch flinched, snapping his head around frantically.

“What’s wrong?”

The red-haired mercenary beside him asked.

“I think there’s something over…”

Hooch couldn’t finish his sentence.

Dark figures suddenly burst forth from both sides of the forest. Hooch instinctively shouted:

“Ambush!”

Simultaneously, the crows flying west wheeled around and began to dive towards them.

****

*Thwack!*

An axe flew through the air, embedding itself more than halfway into Captain Cambern’s skull.

Hooch gasped in shock. The Captain’s horse bucked wildly. The Captain fell face-first to the ground.

“Ambush! It’s an ambush!”

Mercenaries drew their swords, while those unable to fight screamed, scattering in disarray.

In an instant, the formation of the procession collapsed.

Hooch’s horse whinnied in alarm, rearing and bucking. A large club descended towards Hooch’s head as he lost his balance and fell from his horse.

Narrowly dodging the club, Hooch rolled away, startled.

“Wh-What is this?!”

“Aargh!”

The chilling screech of metal against metal mingled with the screams of people.

“R-Run!”

“Kuaaahh—!”

“Madness! What nonsense! Don’t scatter! Hold the line!”

Amidst the voices of the group, guttural roars that sounded inhuman were interspersed.

“Ka’es Dekyle!”

Someone shouted. It was the Fey language. A shiver ran down Hooch’s spine.

‘If I stay here, we’ll all die.’ Hooch scrambled, crawling along the ground. He had to escape.

Before his eyes, a hulking man, with skin as black as if drenched in ink and smeared with white paint, charged forward, baring his dark, stained teeth.

Hooch’s eyes widened.

“Ka’es Dekyle!”

Ka’es Dekyle.

—Annihilate.

With a single swing of the black orc’s club, Hooch’s skull was crushed.

Simultaneously, a flock of ‘Six Red-Eyed Crows’ descended upon the people.

****

“Foul Fey refers to those Fey who have walked the Demonic Path.”

“Foul… Fey… refers to…”

Hay, who had been painstakingly writing down the sentence Briana had just read onto a piece of parchment, looked up.

“What did you say next?”

“Refers to those Fey who have walked the Demonic Path.”

“Ah!”

He nodded, completing the sentence Briana had dictated. After confirming Hay had finished writing, Briana read the next sentence.

“Among the Foul Fey, the most well-known Fey races are Orcs, Trolls, and Goblins.”

Hay, who had been taking dictation, paused. The names of the three Fey races sounded familiar to Han Tae-hyun.

‘Weren’t those monsters that frequently appeared in games and fantasy novels? But they’re Fey?’

Hay frowned.

“Why do you call them Fey?”

Hay asked, bewildered.

Briana adjusted the round spectacles that had slipped down her nose. Then, closing the book and seeming to ponder for a moment, she began to speak.

“Mr. Styles, were you perhaps unaware that they are all ‘Fey races’?”

This was news to both Hay and Han Tae-hyun.

The only orcs he knew were the ones from The Lord of the Rings.

‘Were they Fey there too?’

The monsters here, backed by demons, were mad, disparate races that constantly warred with humans. At least, that was what Hay understood.

“Honestly, many people don’t know this. Even if they do, the story has likely been distorted. And understandably so. The war between demons, monsters, and Foul Fey has continued for over ten millennia. Oral traditions are easily warped. Originally, the Foul Fey were said to be ordinary Fey races, forming tribes and civilizations just like humans. The reason they came to be called ‘Foul’ is…”

Briana abruptly tapped Renki’s hand with her own.

Renki, evidently bored, had been drawing a bear on the edge of his parchment. He stealthily glanced at Briana, then pretended to resume memorizing words.

Briana continued.

“The reason they came to be called that is nothing complicated. Whether they walk the Demonic Path, become corrupted by exposure to demonic energy, or become pawns of demons, those Fey are simply referred to as ‘Foul Fey’. It’s merely a classification—‘Good Fey’ and ‘Foul Fey’—to distinguish them from ordinary Fey, much like mages and black mages.”

Hay nodded. Put that way, it was easy to understand.

“Given the sinister impression and history left by the Foul Fey, it’s generally common to simply call Fey races like orcs and goblins ‘demonic races’.”

‘Demonic races’ was a general term that included demons and black mages.

Just then, Renki raised his hand.