Aleister groaned as he wadded into the river. With care, he took out his grey contacts which darkened his eyes to a more normal brown orange color. Gilmore obtained them for him through some means, adding credence to his theory.

"Ah?" A small gasp of shock rang out from behind him.

He turned around. "Hey there, Delilah? What are you doing here?"

She covered her face with her brown hair and ran away without uttering a single word.

Aleister tilted his head, even more bewildered than before. He knew she liked him, and she knew he knew she liked him. But she always ran away. Maybe she feared his rejection. Maybe one day she'll do it. Or maybe I should. His only worry was blowing her heart out.

Whatever. He exited the river and grabbed a towel. His long black hair already dropped to his shoulders again, but he didn't hate it. It covered his slightly pointy ears, but more importantly, the brands on his neck. It didn't bother him they existed, but he didn't want to give anyone the chance to recognize him. In fact, he even debated changing his name a few times.

He entered the kitchen. His adoptive human mother, Ryellia, was washing some dirty dishes. Her blond hair was now far past her shoulders. The panic attack he had the first time he saw her also did not help his first impressions.

"Need help?"

"No, I don't," she said with a curious smile. "I saw Delilah run by. You should go check up on her. She's a good girl you know."

"About her," Aleister rolled his eyes, "She actually ran away when I tried to talk to her."

"Wow." She wiped her hands dry. "I didn't realize you were that much of a heartbreaker."

"I don't want to break her heart—in a literal sense, of course."

"So you will reject her?"

"You know what I meant," Aleister said, leaving the kitchen to avoid her teasing.

He entered his room and noticed that somehow the raven entered his room. He noticed his window was open. The lock had broken long ago, but he never repaired it*.* He stared at the raven, plopped down in the center of his bed.

"What do you want?" The raven looked back at him and obviously didn't answer. Aleister sighed. He didn't know why he expected an answer when it was obvious he wouldn't get one. Give them a piece of jerky, and they want the whole steak. Or something like that.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

As he he fed the bird, the thunderous ringing of a church bell echoed throughout his room. He sprinted downstairs.

"What's happening mommy?" Mitre asked.

Before Aleister could even open his mouth to explain several possibilities, Gilmore opened the back door, spear, sword and shield in hand. "The bells are because a villager spotted some gnolls."

"Oh, so its just another raid," Mitre said dismissively.

Aleister shook his head. "Not quite. Gnolls are quite dangerous."

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"There are many types of gnolls but the most common kind are essentially humanoid hyenas. Their pale skin is grey or beige, but dark brown fur, littered with yellowish markings, covered it up. This applies to both the male and female members of their species, but telling them apart was quite easy as their females were dominant.

"That most common type were savage creatures of wanton destruction. They craved for violence but mainly the flesh of any living creature. To satisfy their hunger, they often raided villages, relying purely on their brute strength and bonuses from the thrill of the hunt. A notable contrast from the other primal races like goblins. They preferred strategy along with complex traps and tactics in order to secure victory. This used their superior intellect and made up for their inferior strength. To him, those creatures that used their intellect were the much more frightening opponents. Even if they didn't look as intimidating.

"Gnolls aren't completely mindless. From what scholars learned from paying attention to their behaviors, they did indeed fight with some—tactics. This included killing weakest individuals first and ignoring the stronger ones. Of course, calling such a rudimentary idea a tactic is an insult to actual tactics.

"Now, you might also wonder—"

"Please stop talking," Mitre said, cutting Aleister off.

Aleister ignored Mitre. "According to some more recent studies, there are two ways gnolls come into existence. The first is when a large enough demonic force invades a hyena and transforms them. Most animals already come from demons, so this is really more of a bloodline activation. This is usually if a hyena eats a demonic beast, or if the bored gnoll god grants them a boon. The other is when a pre-existing gnolls procreates with another demonic beast, thus birthing a new baby gnoll. Well, it's only a baby gnoll if the gnoll bloodline is dominant over the other demonic bloodline. This second option makes up most of the gnolls present in both the Lillium Empire and Southern Wilderness. And most likely the rest of the continent as well."

"Are you finally done?" Mitre asked, his shoulders slumped.

"Since we're now at the town hall, I guess."

Gilmore looked at him with a bright gaze. "I didn't realize you were so well read up."

"Boredom does that to a person."

They entered the town hall, located in the center of the village. It served as the central command for everyday business and for emergencies. Not all villagers could fight. Most were farmers.

The untrained stayed huddled together inside, still armed, of course. A small portion of the villagers that could fight stayed with this group and provided an extra layer of protection. The rest of the able-bodied villagers manned the walls and protected the major entrance points into the village. No doubt some abandoned the village and ran. Aleister couldn't blame them. Definitely the smarter option.