Chapter 16: Hunting Instinct

“Nolan said it was that girl he recently took in…”

The Village Chief tilted his head, thinking for a moment.

“But Emo said he was just rattled, talking nonsense…”

“That girl?”

Berly pondered.

“I’ve seen her a few times.”

“What… you really think she could kill so many gray jackals?”

“Hard to say… normally, it’s impossible, but if it involves demonic possession…” Berly mused.

“You know where she’s from?

They say Nolan saved her from a bear’s belly—does that even make sense?”

“As for her origins, I heard Baron Noron’s young lady went missing recently, so I suspected it might be her…

In a couple of days, the baron’s people should come to verify,” Berly said.

I listened quietly outside the window, hearing Berly pace back and forth in the church, his steps tapping.

“Here’s the plan: keep that girl, who might be Baron Noron’s daughter, under watch. Don’t let her wander until the baron’s men confirm her identity. And find Emo—alive or dead,” Berly concluded.

The Village Chief agreed repeatedly, then hurried out of the church, probably to carry out Berly’s orders.

He seems so mild usually, yet he holds such sway that even the Village Chief follows him.

“So… they’re coming for Kritiya soon?” I thought.

It sounds like they’ll lock her up until Baron Noron’s men verify her identity.

If Kritiya were really Baron Noron’s daughter, letting them handle it might be fine, but that’s just wishful thinking, far from the truth.

Once the misunderstanding is exposed, will they treat her like some medieval witch, blaming her as the demon-possessed culprit and executing her?

At a time like this, would revealing the Airandil ducal name help?

Common villagers know their local lords and officials, and the Emperor’s birthday, a three-day national holiday, ensures they remember his name.

But a border duke, irrelevant to holidays or daily life, would anyone here know him?

I wasn’t optimistic.

Then it’s time to escape—this isn’t a cozy haven for rest anymore.

You heard what they said, right, Kritiya?

I thought silently, hoping she could hear me, but of course, that was impossible.

The gray-haired girl sat motionless under the church’s side window, hugging her knees, staring blankly.

What should I do?

***

Time trickled by.

At first, I was anxious, but that turned to disbelief.

Was it because she was hiding in plain sight?

Kritiya stayed at the back of the church all day, and no one noticed her.

Sure—Berly’s overgrown weeds offered cover, but couldn’t anyone passing by just look closely?

During this time, I heard the Village Chief return to the church several times, updating Berly.

Emo was still missing, and they hadn’t found Kritiya either.

Dusk fell, the light dimming.

In the winter night’s breeze, Kritiya curled tightly into a ball and fell asleep unnoticed.

“Sleeping here at night could freeze you to death, right?” I thought.

Weilin folk, men and women, drink to ward off cold.

Every winter, you hear of someone passing out drunk and freezing in the snow.

So—I stretched my stiff body, slowly moving my rigid joints.

Once warm blood circulated, I stood up.

“It’s completely dark—perfect for moving,” I thought, glancing at the moonless night sky.

Under cover of darkness, I slipped away from the church.

Where to go?

With recent incidents, the Village Chief had organized villagers into squads, patrolling the village all night.

Hiding by the roadside, I saw torch-bearing villagers swagger through.

Should I escape?

I heard there’s a free city called Romern nearby—maybe I could send a letter to Airandil from there.

“Right, this thing…”

I looked down at the poetry book in my hand.

Kritiya brought it out?

Muscle memory must’ve made me clutch it unconsciously.

“Return it?”

A chilly night breeze blew past.

Looking at the book, I calmed down.

No doubt, escaping was a bad plan.

Even if I left the village, I didn’t know the way to Romern.

Plus, Kritiya could wake up anytime—in the wild, our safety wasn’t guaranteed.

“Hm… I need a helper.”

Hiding under a tiled roof by the road, pondering my next move, I saw Diya pass by.

“Carrying a food basket… going to bring Nolan dinner?”

I followed her shadow from a distance, watching her enter a spacious courtyard.

That must be the Village Chief’s house, where Nolan’s held.

As she entered, I heard dogs barking and the Village Chief’s voice scolding them.

My heart stirred, wanting to follow, but a group of patrolling villagers approached, forcing me to duck into a side alley.

Just as I sighed in relief, I saw them chatting and laughing, heading toward my hiding spot.

Just my luck— I watched them approach.

I ran deeper into the alley, looking for a hiding place.

It was dark, so they likely hadn’t seen me, but I could see their torches flickering closer.

Then I smelled burnt wood.

Through the narrow path between farmhouses, I reached a blackened ruin—Emo’s house, burned down last night.

With nowhere else to hide, I crouched and crawled through collapsed beams into the charred remains, surrounded by blackened mud walls.

The gap was tight, even for Kritiya’s small frame, forcing me to curl up.

I prayed they’d leave soon, but no luck.

Through the rubble’s cracks, I saw the villagers circle the ruin, then stop to chat.

“Brother, this place just had a death—it’s creepy. Let’s check and go back.”

“Look at you—hold on a bit, finish this shift, then sleep.”

“Ugh… it’s just Emo. Is it worth this effort? Maybe he burned up in the fire.”

“Don’t talk nonsense. No body was found.”

“Maybe he’s ash, bone dust, nothing left.”

“No way, there’d be some trace.”

“Why not? Scribe Berly always says, ‘The gods teach us to be kind, to treat others as ourselves.’ Emo was so harsh—maybe he got divine punishment, dragged to hell by a demon—”

“Stop that! Keep cursing like that, and I don’t know about Emo, but you’ll end up in hell—”

“Oh, I’m just talking to you, brother… you’re no fun.”

I licked my dry lips, watching them.

It felt like an hour before they finally left.

I didn’t know if another patrol was coming, so I had to move now—

Then I heard rustling under the nearby rubble.

From beneath a collapsed beam, a twisted figure emerged, crawling on all fours in a strange stance, slowly approaching the villagers from behind.

It was the posture of a predator stalking prey—

Thud!

“What was that!”

The last villager spun around, seeing nothing behind.

“Don’t scare yourself, let’s go.”

“Okay…”

The villager glanced back suspiciously, then caught up with the others.

Hidden in the rubble, I controlled my breathing.

I saw the monster’s shadow leap with inhuman speed behind a mud wall.

Just as it was about to pounce, I threw a pebble, hitting it, drawing its attention.

It seemed to lose interest in the villagers, sniffing around the ruins—hadn’t noticed me yet.

I studied its form: a canine-like head, human-like limbs, unnaturally bulging muscles on its back and arms, like a werewolf from legend.

Then I saw clearly—ah, that was Emo, or at least, the tattered beast-skin clothes marked it as once being Emo.

How did he become this?

I recalled the black magic knowledge from the Evil God: injecting beast blood into a human to induce mutation, grafting human organs onto beasts to create hybrids, or mixing human and beast souls with bodily alterations to make warped creatures.

But creating life is a divine prerogative.

Such man-made monsters usually live only months, or mere hours.

This jackal-man Emo became was likely similar.

“Maybe it’s tied to the black sorcerer… Ross? No need to fight it… it’ll die on its own.”

As I thought this, my heart thudded.

I felt it—the Seed of the Evil God, usually barely noticeable, now pulsed vividly.

From the vortex in my heart, a craving surged—a primal urge beyond words, urging me.

Destroy it.