The sun set, and night began to spread its blanket across the vast sky. Like droplets of paint scattered upon that dark cloth, countless stars flickered as they claimed their places.
Tonight, just like any other, was peaceful and quiet.
And yet, Hans—the village chief—felt uneasy about the village's safety.
No matter how one looked at it, the place they lived in could never be called completely safe. Because of that, he assigned two young men to stand watch for the night.
Throughout the long night, the two guards patrolled the village perimeter without closing their eyes even once. To make the time pass faster, they decided to chat.
"Ah… time keeps dragging on. At this rate, when do you think we'll ever get married?"
"With the way you're living? Definitely not this year," the second young man replied, glancing around cautiously.
"Grab another torch. Mine's about to go out."
As the two passed the village's main entrance, they suddenly heard a dog barking from outside the village.
The young men stopped in their tracks.
"Hey… did you hear that?"
"Yeah, a dog's ba—"
Before he could finish his sentence, a spear shot out from the depths of the forest and pierced straight into him.
The instant the spear struck his head, his life ended.
The remaining guard's eyes widened as he stared at his fallen friend, then slowly turned his gaze toward the forest from where the spear had come.
From within the dark embrace of the forest, crimson eyes glowed like burning embers, staring straight at him.
The moment he saw them, he staggered back a step, swallowing as his breath caught in his throat, then screamed at the top of his lungs.
"ATTACK!"
Moments later, red-eyed demon dogs poured out of the forest and rushed him. Outnumbered, the young man was quickly swallowed by their fangs, disappearing without a trace.
Hearing the alarm, the villagers gathered along the main street, grabbing whatever weapons they could find.
Hans rushed out of his house as well, heading straight for the main road while taking hold of the two swords hanging from his belt. Before long, a tide of demon dogs surged into the village like crashing ocean waves.
As Hans watched them, memories stirred within him, and he muttered unconsciously.
"Baskerville family…"
The Baskerville family was one of the three great noble houses of the Demon Realm, infamous for their bloodthirsty demon hounds—true to their name.
The dogs raced down the main street, smashing doors and forcing their way into homes. Those that slipped in through windows attacked the people inside without mercy.
As if expecting this, the villagers armed themselves and began striking back one by one. But possessing a weapon and knowing how to use it were two very different things.
Standing in the middle of the main street, Hans cut down the dogs one after another with his swords. His past as an adventurer was proving invaluable now.
Seeing a dog leap toward him, he drove his sword into its belly, kicked it away, and tore the blade free.
'If only there weren't so many of them!'
He panted as he scanned his surroundings.
The ground looked as if it had been drowned in blood, the soil dyed a deep crimson. Screams echoed from every direction.
Then Hans caught a scent.
Smoke.
'A fire?!'
One of the village houses had been completely engulfed in flames. The fire roared so fiercely it felt as though it could scorch the skin of anyone standing nearby. As if that weren't enough, sparks scattered from the blaze, spreading to nearby homes.
Feeling the scorching heat, Hans turned—and his eyes fell upon a young man lying on the ground. The boy was desperately struggling to fend off a demon dog attacking him.
Demon dogs differed from ordinary ones in a crucial way—
they didn't merely bite their prey. They sought to kill.
Just as the beast lunged, Hans drove his sword into it, knocking it to the ground, then thrust his second blade down and ended the creature's life.
"Are you alright?" he asked the young man.
The boy, trembling with fear, looked around wildly before nodding.
Seeing this, Hans reached out his hand to help him stand—
And in that instant, a spear flew out of nowhere and pierced straight through the young man's heart.
Blood sprayed like a fountain, splashing onto Hans as well. It streamed down his face, sending a strange, chilling sensation through him.
Unable to comprehend what had just happened, Hans' eyes widened as he slowly turned toward where the blood had erupted from.
Then, with fear gripping his heart, he turned toward the village entrance—the direction from which the spear had come.
Hans stood frozen, unable to tear his gaze away from the demon entering the village.
A Baskerville demon.
He was dressed like a high-born noble from the medieval era. Burning ember-like eyes locked onto Hans, and two long horns curved upward from his head. The demonic energy radiating from him spoke volumes on its own.
Seeing a demon face-to-face for the first time, the village chief's body trembled as he took a battle stance. Despite his experience as a swordsman, he now looked like a child holding a blade for the very first time.
Every small step the Baskerville demon took felt as though it would tear Hans' body apart at any moment.
By now, the monsters had broken into homes, attacking women and children inside.
'Can I really defeat him?'
But soon, gathering every shred of courage he had, Hans decided to attack.
Even with his resolve, his condition didn't improve. Fear still gnawed at him.
Without hesitation, Hans leapt at Baskerville and attacked with both swords. The demon effortlessly deflected the strikes, countering with a blow to Hans' abdomen.
A relentless barrage of attacks rained down upon the village chief's body—but it did not break his spirit.
Summoning all his strength, Hans raised his swords and struck down from above with everything he had.
Baskerville lifted his spear to block—
And the spear split cleanly in two.
'I disarmed him!'
But he was gravely mistaken.
The greatest mistake in battle was lowering one's guard—even for a single second.
At that moment, a sound echoed.
Clatter
Amid the roar of flames and chaos, Hans heard it and looked down.
The moment his eyes fell upon the ground, they widened in horror.
What lay there was his right arm—severed cleanly at the shoulder.
The village chief screamed in agony. Seeing his opening, Baskerville kicked Hans in the stomach, sending him crashing to the ground.
The demon stepped over him and spoke in a deep, resonant voice.
He raised his spear and placed its tip against Hans' chest—directly over his heart.
For Hans, these were his final moments.
Each breath he took could be his last.
Yet just as Baskerville lifted the spear to strike, he suddenly stopped.
Lying there, prepared for death, Hans couldn't understand what was happening. Baskerville stood frozen, holding the spear above his chest, staring toward the far end of the main street.
Confused, Hans followed the demon's gaze.
His eyes landed on Aster, standing at the end of the street.
Even from a distance, Baskerville sensed a strange presence coming from the child.
"This child… the mana coming from him…"
His words trailed off.