“Thank evilness we’re almost out of this ravine of death,” Ichni grumbled, leaning on my shoulder as if the weight of the world rested on her. “I can’t even begin to tell you how sick I am of those stupid hoplops. Blegh.”
“You’re one to talk. I’m the one who has to fight them,” I muttered, trudging forward without breaking stride.
“Now you see why I hate them, don’t you? Those ravenous eyes, those nasty teeth…” Ichni shuddered theatrically before a sinister smile crept across her face. “Maybe when I’m in charge of the kingdom, I’ll have the guards wipe out every single one of them. Ooh, better yet—burn this whole place to the ground!”
Doing my best to ignore the unholy murder aura radiating off my companion, I mentally recounted the day’s events.
The ghost, thankfully, had decided to give us a wide berth all night. It glared daggers at me as I left the ruined fort, but made no move to follow.
Before we departed, I’d scavenged what little the place had to offer: a rusted iron sword and a moldy sheath barely fit to house the blade. Still, I reasoned, better than nothing. I’d also picked up a few tattered sacks, because why not?
The morning sun glistened on the dew, casting an almost serene glow over the trail ahead. As my feet sank in the wet dirt of the road, I felt the wind welcome my journey as a weary but bright-eyed traveler.
Thankfully, we’d been lucky—no slime encounters so far, praise the gods. Still, the occasional lone hoplop tried its luck at terrorizing us.
This time, I handled them with a bit more finesse than before, dispatching each with relative ease. Taking no chances of summoning their slimy counterparts, I bagged the bodies for dinner later.
Unfortunately, my ongoing inability to start a fire meant another round of raw, unappetizing meals. If morale could plummet any lower, mine was currently tunneling into the earth to make yet another pitfall trap for me to fall into.
Now, with the gates of what I hoped was Aratan Villa in sight, Ichni and I found ourselves in passable spirits. The anticipation of reaching civilization was enough to fuel some idle chatter to pass the time.
“Think we killed enough of them that they’ll leave us alone if we ever come back?” I asked. A reputation could go a long way, even among monsters. It’d be nice if word of “the demon rabbit slayer” spread far enough to keep them at bay.
“I doubt it,” Ichni interjected with a dramatic sigh. “They might be able to organize a mob, but they’re dumb as rocks. Merdu, I hate those things.”
“So,” I asked, curiosity piqued, “how’d you get past these things last time? Assuming you came through here, that is.”
“When you’re running from a platoon led by an angry war-cat screaming about how they’re going to hunt you down, priorities tend to shift,” Ichni spat in hubris.
“Once you figure them out, they’re not so bad—the hoplops, I mean,” I said, shrugging as we walked. “I’m guessing you don’t have these things hopping around your royal backyard, though. So why are you so afraid of them?”
Ichni’s expression darkened, as if dredging up a particularly unpleasant memory. She eyed me warily.
“Promise you won’t laugh?”
“I mean, I’ll try not to laugh,” I said, letting out a nervous chuckle. Her dubious glare told me she didn’t buy it.
“Look, everyone’s afraid of something,” I added quickly. “Hell, I knew people who were flat-out cowards who would jump at the drop of a cup. They had their reasons though, so it’s not my place to judge.”
Ichni studied my deadpan expression for a moment, letting out a long, reluctant sigh.
“Well,” she began, her tone betraying a hint of embarrassment, “I was taking a nap at our summer fort when one of those things came in through the window. They’re quiet, stealthy little buggers.”
“M’kay,” I prompted, mildly amused. I could only imagine what kind of chaos a hoplop might have caused in her royal fortress.
“But then it got caught in my web,” Ichni continued, her voice tinged with lingering horror. “And it let out the most terrifying, god-awful scream you’ve ever heard—like a banshee being tortured.”
“Oh geez, I can only imagine the fright you had waking up to that!” I said with a wry smile.
Apparently, that smile was one step too far, because Ichni’s eyes narrowed, her claws twitching ominously.
“... Are you judging me?” she hissed, grabbing my ear with her tiny claws. While she couldn’t hold a firm grip, those claws still managed to dig in just enough to hurt.
“OW! No, I wasn’t, I swear!” I yelped, stumbling to the side of the road as she tugged mercilessly.
Finally, she let go, flicking her fiery red hair over her shoulder and combing through it with her claws—a nervous tic, no doubt.
“Alright, good,” she muttered darkly. “Because if you were—” her claws flexed menacingly—“I’d make sure you regretted it.”
“I promise to the gods I wasn’t!” I declared, hands raised in surrender.
She let out an exaggerated heaving sound, like my words physically disgusted her.
“Don’t promise to them!” she snapped, slapping the side of my head for emphasis. “They’re the least trustworthy beings to swear oaths to!”Why am I in trouble for promising on an oath?!
Oh, right. Demons. Probably topsy turvy on the rules of promises and secret keeping. Devils are trustworthy, holy gods are bad news. Like hell I was gonna swear on Mephistopheles, though.
“Fine, no promises! Yeesh!” I grunted, swatting at her like an annoying fly.
She flitted off, landing on my other shoulder, her cheeks puffed out like an indignant toddler.
“I did hear you laugh, though,” she mumbled, her voice laced with accusation.
“To be fair,” I admitted with a shrug, “I’d laugh at a funeral if the eulogy had a punchline.”
No point in denying it—dark humor was my coping mechanism.
“You’re supposed to laugh at funerals,” Ichni retorted, her tone unusually passionate. “That’s what Father always said!”
Her words made me do a double take.
“Mock the weak, cherish the strong!” she added, as if quoting some sacred family motto.
“What kind of backward logic is that?” I said, disbelief dripping from my voice. “You’re supposed to cherish the ones you’ve lost, not mock them.”
“Well, that’s what he always said,” Ichni countered defensively, her expression turning thoughtful. “It’s a demon-eat-demon world, you know? ‘If they’re not strong enough to survive, then it’s not our responsibility to mourn their failures,’ or something like that.”
Despite her attempt to imitate some gruff demon king, her words hit harder than I wanted to admit. I’d lost dozens of people in my last battle, not because they were weak, but because I wasn’t strong enough to protect them. And now, no one was left to grieve them but me.
“If that’s how you feel, then I guess you’ve never had anyone important die,” I replied softly.
Ichni’s gaze dropped immediately, her expression clouded with pain.
“I… that’s not true,” she murmured, her voice thick with sorrow. “Some people just don’t get funerals.”
I stopped in my tracks, caught off guard once again by the weight of her words. Had she lost someone important too?
The pained silence that hung between us made it clear this wasn’t the moment to ask. Some wounds were better left untouched—for now.
As the town’s fortified wall loomed into view, I felt Ichni silently retreat from my shoulder, slipping back into the gauntlet. The wall itself stood at an impressive four meters high, its stone surface weathered by time but sturdy enough to suggest it could withstand more than just the occasional skirmish. Dark moss clung to the lower half like creeping veins, and iron sconces jutted out at regular intervals, some still holding extinguished torches.
The defensive structure was no marvel of engineering, but it was well-maintained, with fresh patches of mortar here and there indicating recent repairs. Wooden scaffolding braced the back side of the wall, suggesting active upkeep. Arrow slits punctuated the upper portion, and a simple but effective steel portcullis barred entry, flanked by two squat towers.
From a slight elevation, I caught a glimpse of the town beyond the walls. It wasn’t large—maybe a few hundred residents at most—but the layout was surprisingly organized. Narrow cobblestone streets snaked through clusters of modest homes, their sloped roofs tiled in varying shades of dark gray. The houses themselves were a mix of stone and timber, their wooden beams aged to a rich mahogany, with the occasional splash of bright paint marking doors or shutters.
In the center of the town stood a towering spire, its base broad and cylindrical before tapering into a sharp pinnacle that disappeared into the clouds. Birds circled the upper reaches, some diving into roosts carved into the stone structure. The spire was flanked by smaller buildings—perhaps a library or town hall, judging by their stately design.
Further west, the view gave way to more residential areas, interspersed with lush gardens and small market stalls. The air carried the faint, enticing scent of roasted chestnuts, though I couldn’t see the source from where I stood.
The gate itself was a simple yet imposing structure—a steel portcullis framed by the twin stone turrets that seemed to scowl at approaching travelers. Each turret was topped with a conical roof, their slate tiles shimmering faintly in the sunlight. Narrow arrow slits dotted the towers, and I could just make out the gleam of a crossbow tip peeking out from one of them.
Two guards stood at attention near the base of the gate, their figures casting long shadows across the well-worn path leading into the town. The steel bars of the portcullis looked freshly oiled, its mechanism hidden behind thick iron chains that looped through a pulley system on the wall.
Above the gate, a colorful banner flapped lazily in the breeze. The emblem was unfamiliar to me—a stylized tree with twisted roots and vibrant leaves of gold, red, and green. Whatever ruling body it represented, they clearly took pride in their insignia. It most certainly was a local symbol though- I doubt the “evil big bad demon king” would spring for a tree as their logo.
A short distance from the gate stood a lone bench, nearly identical to the one I’d encountered before. This one, however, lacked the floral arrangement from the previous stop. Instead, a rusty iron trash can sat beside it, and an old lamppost hung overhead, casting a long shadow across the path. A wooden sign dangled from the lamppost, its paint faded but legible:
“Welcome to Aratan Villa—Where Fulfilled Dreams Come to Retire!”
The message gave me pause. Was this town some kind of haven for the elderly, or did the tagline carry a more ominous undertone? The proximity to the Woods of Passing certainly added an eerie layer to the otherwise warm sentiment.
I couldn’t help but picture a wagon full of disgruntled retirees being carted off into the woods, their bingo cards still clutched in defiance. Surely they don’t cart out the occasional elderly to the forest edge and conveniently leave them there, right?
Casting the errant thought, I looked warmly at the bench, running my hand across it thoughtfully. It held the same wooden design that I appreciated, which served me faithfully as a reminder that comfort for the weary still existed in this cold, unforgiving world.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
As I approached the gate, breaking my gaze from the bench, I flinched. I expected to see human guards or even demons stationed at their posts. What I saw instead stopped me in my tracks.
To my left stood a tall, lanky figure with the body of a gray wolf. Fur, fangs, tail—the works. The creature stood upright with an easy confidence, as if walking on two legs was the most natural thing in the world.
No helmet obscured their face, leaving a pair of sharp, calculating eyes free to appraise me. A single scar ran over one of those eyes, adding a touch of ruggedness to their otherwise pristine fur. Their whiskers twitched slightly, longer than I’d expected, like they might double as indicators of age.
My first thought was that I had stumbled back into my old-old world at the front door to a furry convention, but then I saw the other guard.
The second guard was a shiba-inu in humanoid form, standing proudly upright but with a roundness that bordered on comical. They were nearly as wide as they were tall, their armor barely containing their stocky frame.
Holy shiba, I thought. It was like they’d absorbed a third guard for safekeeping. Their wagging tail added an air of joviality that stood in sharp contrast to their wolfish counterpart’s stoic demeanor. I still wasn’t sure if they wanted to greet me or eat me. I assumed the former, considering that I looked like a moving corpse.
“Halt, traveler!” the gray wolf barked sharply, his deep, gravelly voice cutting through the morning air. His accent was peculiar, hard to pin down—a mix of formal enunciation and casual slang.
With a swift motion, he lowered his pike to block my path, the steel tip glinting ominously. A second later, the shiba-inu followed suit, albeit with a slight delay, as though he’d momentarily forgotten the procedure.
I gave the wolf-man a bemused look but stopped short of the gate, keeping just out of swinging distance.
The wolf-man eyed me with a suspicious glance, running a clawed finger thoughtfully through the fur at his neck.
“What’s a dodgy bloke like you doing faffing around back here? Proper suspicious, innit, Shiba?” he drawled, turning to his companion.
I gawked silently, gobsmacked at the words he just flung at me like darts. Shiba, as they apparently were called, drank me in and gave a joyous nod.
“I’d say so,” Shiba agreed, his soft, almost soothing voice contrasting sharply with the wolf-man’s gruffness. “On account of the fact we’d have noticed him coming through here before now.”
Taking the guards’ words at face value—at least, the ones I understood—he had a point. I’d just wandered in from the middle of nowhere, with no prior ties to this place. It hadn’t even crossed my mind that they might not let me in for that exact reason.
“I’m just visiting,” I said, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. “Lost my way. If you could just let me through, I’d really appreciate it.”
“Oi, you hear that?” the wolf guard scoffed, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “‘Lost his way,’ he says! Poor muppet thinks he can waltz in here like he’s the bloody bee’s knees!”
“Surely there’s no harm in it?” Shiba countered, his tone as calm as ever. “We’ve had no reports of intruders, and his weapon doesn’t look particularly… threatening.”
His eyes drifted to my rusted sword, a faint trace of pity flashing across his face.
“Look, I’ll toss the damn thing in the trash if it’ll make a difference,” I said, motioning toward the nearby bin. “I mean no harm—I’m just passing through. Promise.”
“Nuh-uh, ‘old steady there, mate,” the wolf guard said, holding up a paw to stop me mid-step. He turned to Shiba, his tail flicking in irritation. “It’s the same old chestnut, innit? We let everyone in, and then we’ve got a bloody stinkin’ wraith to deal with!”
“I’m none of those things!” I insisted, my voice rising in exasperation. “I’m just visiting, I swear. Passing through, that’s all.”
“Swear on your mum?” the wolf guard growled, his ears flattening against his head in suspicion.
What is with this guy? I thought, a bead of sweat rolling down my temple.
“I swear on my mother—rest her soul,” I said solemnly, doing my best to appear calm and sincere.
“He’s just a fellow,” the shiba guard cooed soothingly, his voice as calm as a summer breeze. “Let him through, love. No harm in it.”
The gray wolf-man hesitated, fidgeting with his pike as if weighing his options. Was I some unruly intruder about to wreak havoc, or just a hapless vagabond in need of shelter for the night?
I silently prayed he’d settle on the latter.
“I am a bit knackered,” the wolf guard admitted at last, his shoulders sagging as though exhaustion had finally caught up with him.
I sighed in relief, though his next words brought a new wave of confusion.
“Perhaps I lost the plot when I saw the ghostly coils on ya.”
Ghostly coils? What the hell was he talking about? Was he just using a weird expression, or was there something about me that only his furry eyes could see? I felt like brain worms were burrowing into my skull trying to understand this guy.
“How ‘bout this, lad?” he said, lifting his pike with a flourish and motioning toward me with one paw. “I can’t be arsed to vet ya proper, so let’s make it fun—how ‘bout a little pop quiz?”
This earned both a sigh from me and the Shiba guard.
“Here we go again with the quizzes,” Shiba muttered, his tone laced with quiet exasperation. “You can’t just quiz everyone who tries to pass through, you know.”
“Oh, don’t be throwing a wobbly, I’ll keep em nice and simple!” the wolf guard said in defense, as though he was doing us a courtesy.
“Honestly?” I said, rubbing my temples. “If this quiz gets me out of the fresh hell I’ve wandered into, I’ll answer whatever you want.”
I found my gaze drifting to the wall, silently calculating my odds of scaling it. Could I hoist myself up fast enough to avoid a pike to the back? Probably not. But at this point, it seemed like a more appealing option than entertaining this pretentious canine’s games.
“Right on!” the wolf guard barked, his tail wagging with unrestrained enthusiasm.
I blinked, dumbstruck. Was this guy seriously so excited to play quizmaster that he’d faked his earlier suspicion just to justify it?
Shiba let out a long, weary sigh, dragging a paw down his face as though already exhausted by what was to come.
“All right… let’s hear the first question,” he muttered, his voice flat with resignation.
With just as much enthusiasm as a talk show host, the wolf-man spun around dramatically before pointing his hand up to signify the first question.
“Question number one!” he exclaimed excitedly. “What’s the name of this dive that we’re guarding?”
I stared at him, slack-jawed, convinced I’d just found the biggest moron in existence.
Then it hit me: I was the one willingly playing along. Did that make me the bigger idiot?
As I stood there, dumbstruck, Shiba caught my eye. Slowly and deliberately, he mouthed the words: Please say Aratan Villa.
“I, uh… Aratan Villa?” I stammered, my voice lilting up at the end as if I wasn’t entirely sure myself. I rested my hand on the sword’s guard just in case.
To my surprise, the wolf-man let out an enthusiastic whoop, his tail wagging furiously. I half-expected to hear the sound of a triumphant “ding-ding-ding!” echoing somewhere in the distance.
“Corrrrrect! This guy’s full of beans!” The wolf guard barked with pride, looking at me like a father whose child just aced a test.
Then, he shot a side glance at Shiba, his ears twitching in mock suspicion. “Oi, you’d better sod off if you’re planning to feed him the answers, mate.”
Shiba rolled his eyes, his hefty frame shifting with a sigh of mild annoyance.
“Question numba twoooooo~!” the wolf-man continued, his voice stretching into a dramatic howl. “Who’s the chuffed winner of this year’s ‘Most Beautiful Fur’ competition?”
I blinked, completely at a loss.
“It’s been all over the newspapers,” Shiba explained, his tone calm but his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “Surely any reasonable person would have heard about the winner by now.”
Then his gaze hardened, a subtle edge creeping into his voice. “Of course, only some wild monster posing as a person would be utterly clueless, wouldn’t they?”
“Well, how the hell would I know?” was my immediate thought, but the weight behind Shiba’s words told me this wasn’t just a casual trivia question. This was a test—one I couldn’t afford to fail.
Answering wrong might as well confirm that I was some kind of outsider, an intruder from beyond the kingdom’s borders.
I had to admit, I was a little impressed. This had gone from a quirky game show to a full-blown interrogation faster than I’d thought possible.
What do I do now? I racked my brain, trying to piece together any scrap of information that might help. I knew as many people here as I could count on one hand—most of them being Ichni and my slimy nemesis—so it wasn’t like I had any clue who might have award-winning fur.
Maybe it was Ichni herself? Her hair was certainly luxurious, wild waves cascading like a crimson waterfall. But “award-winning” seemed like a stretch.
“Psst.” A soft whisper cut through my spiraling thoughts, and I glanced down at the gauntlet. Of course—it was her. The devil herself.
“Well?” the wolf-man growled, one eyebrow arching high enough to practically leap off his face.
“Well, you see…” I repeated nervously as I raised the glove to pretend to scratch the side of my head.
“The answer’s Captain Onshi,” Ichni whispered knowingly, her voice dripping with disdain. “That loser’s won every single year for the past twelve years. Well, except once—and that’s only because his wife shaved him as a prank.”
“THAT DUDE HAS A WIFE?!” I blurted, my disbelief echoing far louder than intended. Both guards jolted in surprise, and I flinched at my own volume.
Clearing my throat awkwardly, I forced a sheepish grin and scratched the back of my head. “Uh, I mean… Captain Onshi, of course!”
The two guards exchanged a glance, their expressions a mix of confusion and scrutiny. After a moment, Shiba gave a casual shrug and nodded.
That was all the wolf-man needed. Letting out an exuberant howl, he pumped his arm triumphantly, his tail wagging with such fervor that I half-expected him to take flight.
“AWOOOO~! Atta boy, atta boy! Knew ya’d pull through!” he cheered at me, patting me on the shoulder before returning to his post. Was he still interrogating me, or were we back to the game show motif?
“FOR THE JAMMY BRONZE!” the wolf guard bellowed, striking a dramatic pose as if delivering the final act of a grand play.
Even the guards stationed above seemed taken aback, one of them turning away as though embarrassed to share a workplace with him. I felt bad for that guy.
“Aight, aight. ‘Ere we go,” the wolf-man said, reigning in his theatrical antics and adopting a more serious tone. “‘ere we go—question numba three. Where does his highness, King Malphas, like to go knees up for ‘is summer holidays?”
My arm twitched, ready to call for backup from Ichni, but the gauntlet remained suspiciously silent. Malphas—so that’s the Demon King’s name—was her father, wasn’t he? Surely she’d know where he went for his so-called vacations.
Then it hit me like such a slap to the back of the head that I actually thought that the princess had done it herself. The Demon King—the same guy we’re trying to free by shattering his chains—isn’t exactly vacationing at the beach. He’s literally bound in place. There’s no way he’s going anywhere, let alone on a summer getaway!
“That’s a trick question!” I declared, straightening up with newfound confidence. “His, uh… ‘highness’ is bound by those cursed chains! He can’t go anywhere!”
It was as though the wolf guard was ready to turn into a barrel of lit fireworks with how much energy he exuded. He practically exploded on the spot with glee as tossed his pike to the side and began doing backflips around me like an over-caffeinated acrobat.
I stood there, utterly stunned by the spectacle. Meanwhile, the shiba guard offered a polite clap, his expression an unreadable blend of amusement and resignation.
“Look at you, you old bean! You’ve done it—you’ve actually done it!” the wolf-man shouted, his voice brimming with excitement as he switched from flips to prancing around me in what could only be described as an impromptu victory dance.
For a moment, I wondered if his acrobatics were some eccentric combat maneuver designed to confuse and disorient me. But no, it was just unbridled enthusiasm, and it left me completely dumbfounded.
Meanwhile, the shiba-man, far more composed, motioned to the guards above. With a faint creak and the grinding of gears, the portcullis began to rise. It wasn’t as loud as I would have expected, suggesting the gates were surprisingly well-maintained and frequently used.
“Good job!” Shiba said, offering me a polite nod. His earlier tension seemed to melt away now that I’d passed their peculiar “test.”
“Welcome to Aratan Villa. While you’re here, you really ought to try the realm-famous chili con carne—it’s to die for,” he added, his tone betraying just a hint of dry humor.
“Now… huff…” the wolf guard panted, clutching his knees as he struggled to catch his breath. “Now that’s… hooo… now that’s what I call good nosh!”
Straightening up, he took a deep, steadying breath, his tail wagging with satisfaction. “And don’t forget—make sure it’s topped up spicy!”
“I wouldn’t,” the shiba guard warned. “They make it really spicy.”
“Posh.” the wolf scoffed.
“Whew,” I muttered, exhaling a long breath. “That was… a lot. Thanks, you two. I’ll, uh, see you around!”
Of course, that was a lie. There was no way I’d willingly run into these two again if I could help it.
I had barely taken a few steps into the town when the gates began to lower behind me, the faint clank of metal fading into the background. From the gauntlet on my arm, I heard the unmistakable sound of stifled laughter—a steady stream of snickers that only grew louder with each passing second.
“Good job, old bean!” Ichni’s voice finally burst out, her laughter spilling forth like a flood. “You actually passed their ‘sniff test!’ What a riot!”
“I need you to do one thing for me,” I said, my voice low and deadly serious.
“Point me to the nearest tavern. I need to drown the memory of those last five minutes in something stronger than water.”