As we left Oniphia behind, I moved away from the caravan, enjoying the wind on my face. Since the encounter with the inept spy of the House Maell, there hadn't been any emergencies.

No, that wasn't correct. There hadn't been any martial emergencies. On the other hand, there were many low-level emergencies to address, from supply problems to fights among the employees we used as guards, leaving me with no time to properly enjoy a moment of calm.

It was ironic that a dangerous smuggling operation that would have shaken the region to its core if it was detected by nobles, the military, or even the other criminals was the closest thing I had to leisure.

I missed the prospect of retirement. Even the camp life was better.

Luckily, the workers of Iron Trust were not the chatty kind except a few, and those lost their intent to bother me with chit chat after a subtle burst of Charisma, focusing on their job of managing the caravan and killing monsters.

I just rode my horse, enjoying the momentary lack of responsibility while I dreamed of a nice beach house replacing my mission.

Hopefully, soon. How long could this Hero nonsense last, after all?

I avoided thinking about that, or about the nobles, Calamity, magic, and levels, doing my best to enjoy nature and the constant white noise. Luckily, after months in his new world, I was used to treating the constant sounds of fighting against monsters as the background.

Then, I noticed a subtle red flash at a distance, almost three miles away, one that could easily be ignored as a mirage … by anyone without high Perception.

I still wanted to believe that it was just a mirage, but I didn't reach my age by constantly lying to myself. It was my old friends.

Just my luck.

"I'll rest a bit, don't bother me unless it's important," I said to the guard captain as I stepped down from my ride and instead jumped in one of the half-empty carts and pulled the curtain after I entered. Luckily, it was not absurd for a merchant to act like this, so it avoided their attention.

Then, a few seconds later, I used Concealment to slip out, escaping the caravan before they noticed.

A dash later, I was behind the source of that red flare. Another cultist team, this time four of them, waiting behind a rock, clearly prepared for an ambush. However, from the snippets of the argument I could pick up I figured out that their plan was in the process of changing.

The group was made up of one priest — or whatever passed for a priest in their warped little community — and three combatants. For one of them, however, it took a while for me to understand that he was a human.

Or a former human,considering one of his arms had been transformed into a decayed-looking claw, and his body was covered by more scales than skin. He was barely managing to stand on his feet, often falling on all fours, and his ramblings about the glory of his god, barely understandable, didn't exactly work well to convince me about his humanity.

Nor did the fact that, when the priest rejected his demented demand to attack the caravan despite the lopsided numbers, he let out one last animalistic growl, and rushed forward.

"Enough, I'm the voice of our God, and you will listen to me!" the priest shouted, and waved his hand, a crimson explosion hitting him.

"Cowardly heretic," the demented one answered as he repeated the attempt.

The disinterested manner the other two acted in suggested that it wasn't the first time such a confrontation happened. Also, it gave me an idea about exactly how I managed to catch a crimson glow despite the incredible distance.

While the other two continued on with their violent argument, the two fighters just stared at a distance with dull exhaustion, which was an interesting difference from their usual raging attitude. Maybe it was how they acted when there was no immediate outlet for their violent tendencies.

An interesting situation. I stayed in place, watching, using the opportunity to get a better sense of their habits before I got rid of them.

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However, before I could put that plan into action, something else happened.

A sudden flare of red energy exploded out of the feral fighter and covered him. Not exactly good news if the sudden panic of their priest was any indicator.

"Kill him, quickly!" the priest shouted. The other two fighters attacked him without wasting even a second, their weapons raised, their bored expression turning into an animalistic glee, as if someone had just injected them with drugs.

Still, they were too late. Just as the first one managed to reach the feral cultist, a red tentacle of energy exploded out of the red mist, squeezing him hard enough to make him explode in quick order, his Vitality useless.

The sight of his comrade being ripped apart didn't even slow down the second one as he continued to charge toward the monstrosity, showing no understanding that he was about to step into a meat grinder. He rushed, and since the feral creature – it didn't look like, or act, a human after this point — was busy with the first fighter, he managed to swing his weapon.

One that just got stuck on the rapidly growing body of the transforming creature as it finished the first fighter off, and turned to the second one.

Still, even with the gory sight in front of me, I couldn't help but feel amused as I looked at the priest, who was already running away. I subtly blasted him with Charisma, giving him a directional sense of terror to make sure he was moving away from my trade caravan.

The creature chased him, slowly closing the distance, ignoring the occasional red blasts that the priest was sending out desperately.

The priest couldn't escape, that much was clear. It was harder to read the expression of the creature than a man. Despite that, I could sense the disgusting enjoyment it had been deriving from the chase.

Was that surprising?

No, considering its transformation was fueled solely by the anger it had felt against the priest. Add its clearly warped mental state to the mix, and it was a miracle that he even came close to escaping, and only because the warriors sacrificed them mindlessly.

I rushed forward to intervene. Not because I had any desire to actually save the priest, but because I wanted to deal with the creature before the priest died and the ward that he had been maintaining disappeared. If that happened, nature would attack the creature again, creating enough commotion to alert the caravan.

I didn't want someone to check the cart I was supposed to be resting on and find it empty. I could have explained it away, but avoiding suspicion was better.

And, as for why I was charging at the creature: The real reason was to test its capabilities in a safe environment rather than a more complicated situation where I had to deal with multiple abominations or keep people safe at the same time.

But I would be lying if I said no part of me wanted to punish them for ruining my moment of calm.

Was a few hours of freedom too much to ask?

The priest stumbled as I appeared, once again cloaked while I held a blue sword, glowing steadily rather than a chaotic, bleeding mess.

I was able to decently copy mana attacks, as long as it was not a ranged attack. It was one of the developments I was proud of. It took quite a bit of archery practice with my sole skill, but it paid dividends.

Controlling ordinary mana was far easier once I got familiar with the chaotic, boiling nature of destruction mana.

I ignored the priest for the moment while I used my speed to move behind the creature, and delivered a deep slash, leaving a blue afterglow.

The pained cry of the creature rattled my bones, but my focus was on dodging its spray of blood.

I was never this glad to have my enhanced reflexes.

I could have followed up, but instead, I took a step back, watching the speed of its recovery. It took almost three seconds for the wound to close. Impressive by human standards considering it was a mana wound, but far inferior to Lord Beasts.

With the first step complete, I waited for the creature to complete its turn — far slower than its direct speed — before I moved to its flank and delivered another hit, and when it tried to use its tentacle-claw combination to attack, I lopped it off as well.

It showed immediate signs of recovery. I attacked again, while keeping in mind that the priest continued his escape.

So, I ran toward the priest, making sure we stayed under his protective ward.

Then, I delivered another deep wound to its back, similar to my first attack.

It recovered in two seconds.

"Okay, that's not good news," I said as I decided to stop playing. Clearly, whatever led to its transformation took a while to truly empower him, and as much as I wanted to see its abilities, there was a balance between risk and safety.

Especially since the priest's path had slightly shifted toward a cave, one that no doubt led to their web of tunnels. I needed his ward, but not to the extent of letting him get away.

I approached the beast once more, however, this time, I didn't limit myself to just one slash before letting it recover. I allowed my blade to dance, delivering more than a dozen wounds at once, not stopping until the creature collapsed.

I was ready to continue slicing it down … but I received a surprising confirmation.

[Invader Slain]

[+1,381,291 Experience]

[+17 Authority]

"Okay, that's new," I murmured as I stopped for a moment, trying to understand the implications. Implications such as, what was an Invader according to the System, what was Authority…

And why transformation suddenly made it so that a human — or at least, a recently-human creature — granted experience.

I paused only for a moment and cut several small samples from the creature and put them in one of the many sealed pouches I had to safely carry destruction mana with me.

Then, I ran toward the priest before he could escape, not bothering to examine the remains anymore.

"Stop. I can help you get whatever you want. Power, riches, a mission. My exalted god can give you —" he said before losing his voice … and his head.

"You're unlucky, buddy," I said as I looked at his headless corpse. "I have a better priest to ask questions to."