Orstone town, a verdant agricultural hub in Vidin, ceaselessly supplies essential sustenance to the region’s urban centers, particularly grain. Its populace, almost entirely composed of farmers and merchants, toils tirelessly to ensure the region’s prosperity. At the apex of this agrarian society, a formidable figure looms large: David Holston, the esteemed mayor of Orstone. Possessing a vast estate and an imposing mansion, he wields significant influence over the town, his authority bolstered by a retinue of vigilant guards. Yet, even within these fortified walls, a daring act was about to unfold. A hooded figure, a mere girl, prepared to defy the odds and challenge the mayor’s dominion.
“’Apprehend that girl immediately!’” The mayor’s bellowing command reverberated through the mansion, galvanizing his guards into action. The hooded figure, having executed a graceful leap from the balcony, now stood poised on the ground, her gaze fixed on the irate mayor. The once-serene countenance of the official was now contorted with rage and disbelief.
“Return that ring, you thieving cur, or my guards will make you beg for mercy,” Holston bellowed, his face flushed with rage.
“Apologies, chunky. I merely require the ring for a few days. A trifling wager, you see. Fear not, I shall return it in one piece,” the young girl replied, a mischievous glint in her eye. She glanced around, her gaze falling upon the approaching guards.
“Well, it seems our time together has drawn to a close. Farewell, for now,” she bid him, raising a hand in a mock salute. With a sudden, dramatic flourish, she intoned, “Fog shelter!” A dense, ethereal mist materialized around her, obscuring her form from view. The guards, caught off guard by the sudden apparition, stumbled and collided with one another.
As the fog began to dissipate, one of the guards spotted the girl perched atop the mansion’s fence. “Don’t trouble yourselves,” she taunted, her voice carried on the wind. “I’ve had a most delightful time, particularly the pleasure of your company for the first time, dear chunky Holston.” With a final, mocking laugh.
“You dare defy me, you filthy demonic spawn? I’ve seen the slit in your eyes, and I shall recognize you, hooded or not. You will rue this day,” Holston threatened from his balcony.
“Oh dear, it seems I’ve made quite the impression. No hard feelings, though. I merely require this item for a short while. Farewell, before your archers turn me into a pincushion,” the girl retorted, leaping from the fence as a volley of arrows whizzed past. She nimbly dodged the projectiles, hugging the wall to shield herself from the archers’ aim.
“Open the gates! She can’t escape!” Holston bellowed, but the girl had already vanished, her swift movements and keen instincts guiding her to a safe haven.
The morning air was crisp and invigorating, an unusual sight for Jaxith, a creature of the night. Accustomed to the late hours, the time when the monstrous denizens of the forest stirred to life, he found himself drawn to the quiet village streets. The recent, haunting nightmare had disrupted his nocturnal routine, leaving him restless and disturbed.
As he approached his destination’s door, the only tavern in the village, a sudden, blood-curdling scream pierced the tranquil morning. The sound, the chilling echo of his nightmare, sent a shiver down his spine. The image of the girl’s terrorized face, smeared with blood, and the guttural roar of a monstrous beast flashed before his eyes. Jaxith staggered, clutching his head with his right hand as the memory of the nightmare washed over him. This exact roar, even more terrifying than the girl’s bloody visage, sent a wave of dread through him.
Shaken but resolute, Jaxith regained his composure and pushed open the heavy tavern door. The interior was deserted, save for the solitary figure of the innkeeper, diligently cleaning the bar. The silence was palpable, broken only by the soft clinking of glass and the distant murmur of the wind.
“Rather early for you today, an early hunt, perhaps?” the tavern keeper inquired.
“No, a restless night,” Jaxith replied.
“Those dogs from Albes’s farm kept you awake, did they?” the tavern keeper surmised.
“No, Jacob, merely a touch of insomnia,” Jaxith assured him, his voice steady and confident as he claimed a wooden stool and settled at the counter.
“Well then, something new or the usual fare?” Jacob asked.
“Come now, you must have a more intriguing query than that,” Jaxith retorted with a knowing smirk.
“For the love of all that’s holy, Jaxith, you’re a vicenarian man, and yet you still imbibe orange juice! I keep those for the village brats," Jacob exclaimed, perplexed.
“I’ve never had much of an affinity for alcohol, Jacob. It simply doesn’t appeal to me. And besides, fresh-squeezed orange juice is the true elixir, don’t you deny it?” Jaxith replied, his tone calm and unwavering.
“Suit yourself, old friend,” Jacob conceded, pouring the juice into a rustic wooden mug.
“You’re still in your twenties, aren’t you? Don’t tell me you’ve already entered your thirties!” Jacob queried, a hint of concern in his voice.
“Fear not, Jacob, I am but twenty-seven,” Jaxith assured him, a serene smile playing on his lips as he took a sip of his drink.
“Speaking of age, don’t you think it’s high time our esteemed Jaxith found himself a lovely young lady?” Jacob inquired, a playful glint in his eye as he leaned against the counter, facing Jaxith.
“I don’t believe so, but thank you for your suggestion,” Jaxith replied, his composure unwavering, his words few and deliberate.
“Pray tell, do you think village Lumina, the crown jewel of Plistura, lacks beautiful women? I wager every maiden in this village dreams of a man like you, Jaxith, the fearsome slayer of monsters. Your crimson eyes, flowing silver hair and beard, and formidable physique make you a legend. You shield us from the terrors that the government ignores, a hero to us all.” Jacob boasted, a proud smile gracing his lips. Jaxith, however, regarded him with a silent, contemplative gaze.
“Seriously, Jaxith, this village owes you a great debt. You never demand payment for your services, instead selling the usable monster parts and venturing far to trade the rest. For nearly seven years, you’ve been our unwavering protector. I’ve seen many monster slayers, but you are truly one of a kind. You return unscathed, never fail to deliver, and always stand ready to aid us.” Jacob declared, his smile warm and sincere.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“You’re simply being hyperbolic, Jacob. I’m merely fulfilling my duty,” Jaxith replied calmly.
“No, I’m not exaggerating. Look at the way the children idolize you. Just two days ago, my son declared he would become a great monster slayer, just like Jaxith. Believe me, everyone in this village adores you. I know you’re a man of few words and rarely leave your home, but if you’re hesitant to discuss marriage, know that I’m here for you. No one should endure such prolonged solitude.” Jacob confessed, his tone serious.
“Don’t concern yourself, Jacob. I assure you, marriage is not on my mind at the moment,” Jaxith replied while not even focusing, his gaze fixed on his drink. His mind was still grappling with the nightmarish vision. Was that girl real, or merely a figment of his troubled dreams?
“JAXITH!” Jacob bellowed, his voice cutting through the quiet tavern.
“You were lost in thought, weren’t you?” Jacob inquired, his expression suggesting he’d called out multiple times.
“I simply didn’t rest well last night,” Jaxith replied, his gaze returning to Jacob as he shook his head gently.
“Listen, I’ve known you for seven years, and the moment you stepped into this tavern a few moments ago, I could tell something was amiss. Your keen senses don’t allow you to drift off like that. That’s why I brought up marriage. So, what’s truly troubling you?” Jacob pressed, his tone serious.
Jaxith considered his words, pondering how to respond.
“Jacob, may I seek your advice?” Jaxith asked.
“Of course, tell me what’s troubling you,” Jacob replied.
“What would you do if you sensed someone needed aid, but weren’t certain if it was a ruse?” Jaxith inquired, his gaze steady.
“Well, if it’s a risk, and I’m unsure if they truly need help, I’d simply dismiss it, Jax. I don’t wield a sword, but you do, and that’s the crux of the matter. It’s not about me, son, it’s about you.” Jacob explained. Jaxith’s gaze returned to his drink.
“Listen, you’re a shrewd man, Jax. I doubt anyone could truly deceive you. You help people instinctively. So, if you feel someone needs you, even if it’s just a hunch, follow your instincts. And if it turns out to be a trap, then they’ve made a grave mistake.” Jacob said with a knowing smile.
Jaxith chuckled calmly, his gaze returning to Jacob. “I believe you’re right, Jacob. There’s no harm in investigating.” He replied.
“Exactly, that’s what I mean.” Jacob affirmed.
“One last question. I know Orstone and Wolford are renowned for their grain production in Vidin. Which of them is bordered by hills?” Jaxith inquired, the image of the girl’s surroundings fresh in his mind.
“That’s easy. Orstone is surrounded by hills on its eastern side. Wolford is quite flat. I thought you knew that.” Jacob replied, surprised.
“I’ve passed through a few times, but never explored. Perhaps the hills were on the opposite side.” Jaxith explained.
“Well, that’s where you’re headed, then?” Jacob asked.
“Yes, thanks for the advice, Jacob. I’ll gather my equipment and leave you the house key. I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone, so keep an eye on it.” Jaxith said.
“No problem, it’s safe with me. And Jaxith, be cautious out there, young man. Whatever you’re about to do seems to be weighing heavily on you. Stay calm and collected. In other words, be yourself.” Jacob advised wisely.
“I will. Take care, Jacob.” Jaxith replied, rising to his feet and turning to leave. Jacob noticed the empty mug.
“Even when you’re feeling under the weather, you finish what you start, huh?” Jacob chuckled.
“A bad night is enough. A bad morning would be catastrophic.” Jaxith retorted sarcastically, closing the tavern door behind him. Jacob laughed in response.
Guardsmen are sprinting and yelling through the thoroughfares of Orstone.
“A blue-eyed, hybrid demoness, still a mere girl, has dared to plunder the mayor’s manor. Any individual with knowledge of her whereabouts will be handsomely rewarded, while any accomplice will face severe retribution at the hands of the mayor himself,” the guardsmen bellowed throughout the town’s streets, their voices echoing after their fruitless search. Three hours had elapsed since her audacious escape from the manor, and still, there was no trace of her.
In a secluded, dimly lit alleyway, two young boys were conversing as the guards voices were filling the streets when they were startled by a sudden figure leaping from the shadows.
“Oh, heavens! Irene, you nearly gave me a heart attack!” one of the boys exclaimed, his voice laced with panic, as the young girl removed her hood. A slender figure of 5.2 feet, she revealed her striking features: piercing blue demonic eyes, a vibrant cascade of short, layered red hair, and a complexion as pale as moonlight.
“You can’t be serious! You’re the one who did it?” the other boy exclaimed, his voice filled with disbelief.
Irene, with a mischievous glint in her eye, opened her right hand to reveal a golden ring adorned with a sizable red gem. A prominent “H” was etched into the metal, a clear testament to its extravagant origin.
“You’ve got to be joking! The guards are scouring every inch of this town for you. I never imagined you’d actually go through with it!” the boy stammered, his astonishment palpable.
“Then, perhaps you shouldn’t have underestimated me, Leo,” Irene replied, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. She glanced down the street, ensuring no vigilant guards were tailing her.
“Well, the bet’s the bet. Keep it for a week without getting caught, and I’ll admit you’re the most talented thief among the Shadow Seekers,” Leo said, his tone laced with a subtle undercurrent of disbelief. He couldn’t quite believe she had actually pulled off such a daring heist.
“I will,” Irene assured him, her confidence unwavering. But then, a shadow crossed her face, and her expression turned somber.
“Hey, what’s wrong? Did something go wrong?” the first boy inquired, noticing the sudden shift in her demeanor.
“No, Flen, it’s that fat asshole. He had the guts to call me a filthy hybrid. If it weren’t for the guards, I would have taught him a lesson he’d never forget,” Irene retorted, her voice laced with anger.
“Oh, come now, Irene. We’ve told you time and again that being a hybrid isn’t your fault. In fact, you possess a unique ability—magic. No one your age can claim such a feat, even if it's not the most potent, still, it’s useful. And let’s not forget your undeniable beauty. You’re more stunning than any girl I know,” Leo assured her, his tone soothing.
“Thank you, Leo, but perhaps you could’ve toned down the flattery,” Irene teased, a smirk playing on her lips.
“Yeah, man, she got a point. Everyone knows you’re a hopeless shitty single who fancies himself a handsome noble,” Flen interjected sarcastically, causing both Irene and Leo to erupt in laughter.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Leo chuckled, conceding the point.
“Seriously, Leo, thank you. I needed that laugh. I think it’s wise to retreat to the hideout for the remainder of the day,” Irene suggested.
Both boys agreed, their eyes scanning the street to ensure the guards had dispersed. Then, they took off, their footsteps echoing through the alleyway.
In the resplendent city of Arlyn, the capital of Vidin, within the opulent confines of the grand Rascliffe manor, a nobleman of distinguished bearing sat at his elegant desk. His medium brown hair, neatly coiffed, framed a face etched with intelligence. As he was engrossed in his scholarly pursuits, a sudden, discordant caw shattered the tranquility of the room. A crow, dark and ominous, burst through the window and alighted upon his desk.
The nobleman, startled, swiftly closed the window and door, then turned his gaze upon the creature. His eyes, filled with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation, locked onto the crow’s.
“Apocodicopios!” he exclaimed, his voice low and intense. His jaw clenched, and his eyes narrowed as he suppressed a surge of primal energy. A moment later, the tension dissipated, and the crow, engulfed in a sudden, inexplicable fire, was reduced to ashes.
“A creation of Lord Blamore himself,” the nobleman breathed, his voice heavy with realization. “The key has finally materialized. After centuries of obscurity, the truth shall be unveiled. The false gods, those tyrannical and cowardly deities, shall be exposed for the frauds they are. I have been chosen to carry this sacred burden, and I shall not disappoint my lord. I know precisely who is destined for this task,” he declared, his voice filled with unwavering confidence.