The group of mercenaries stood ready, silently scanning the trail ahead, as they awaited the approaching demon with stern expressions on their tired faces. They did not have to wait long; within moments, a trio of demons burst onto the pathway at great speed.

Raising his sword high above his head, Edgar’s eyes narrowed as he took in the obvious fear on the faces of the demons. Not only that, but the creatures let out a series of frightened hisses, their sharp legs tearing into the soil beneath them as they immediately attempted to turn back upon spotting the humans lying in wait.

WHOOSH! WHOOSH! WHOOSH!

As soon as the demons turned away, a heavy rain of arrows came blasting down from somewhere up the mountain, just out of sight. The demon at the head of the group was slain outright as an arrow sank deep into its neck, while the other two skittered off in separate directions, escaping into the surrounding woods without delay.

Edgar let out a deep sigh, lowering his weapon as he finally caught sight of Christoff leading a dozen of Whitestone’s guards, along with half a dozen of the small town's hunters, racing down the mountain slope in hot pursuit of the fleeing demons.

Christoff sent his men forward in two separate groups after the escaping demons, before he himself rushed down toward the group of mercenaries after spotting Edgar. The young guard's gaze was instantly attracted to the corpse of the demon matriarch laying on the ground beside Edgar as he got close enough to spot it.

"Thanks be to the god of luck—you’ve already slain the refined-realm demoness. We can hunt the rest down without worry. Are any of your people injured?"

Edgar glanced at the matriarch’s corpse before stepping closer to Christoff.

"Light injuries, nothing to trouble yourself over. We saw the smoke rising above the town—that warning gave us time to prepare for the demons' attack. What’s the situation in Whitestone?"

A look of worry crossed Pom’s face as she heard the question. She stepped closer, anxiously squeezing her hands together over her chest as she listened for Christoff’s reply.

Christoff’s brows furrowed, his nostrils flaring in anger as his thoughts returned to the town he was sworn to protect. His thick fingers tightened around the grip of his sword, his voice slightly lowering as he spoke about the events of the morning.

"The bastards set fire to the market to distract us. While we were running around like fools trying to contain the blaze, the demon scum raided the inn. I don’t know what—or who—they were searching for, but after slaughtering old Jim and the few hunters and merchants who hadn’t yet set out for the day, they suddenly ignored everyone else and rushed straight down the mountain toward your group."

As he finished his explanation, Christoff glanced up from the demon leader’s corpse toward Edgar, his eyes narrowing slightly as he followed up with a question.

"These demons wouldn’t happen to be enemies of yours, would they, Edgar? Does some grudge exist between the Iron Fangs and this demon tribe that Whitestone got caught in the middle of?"

Edgar met Christoff’s gaze without a hint of deception on his grizzled face and slowly shook his head.

"This is the first time we’ve come into contact with these demons. I’m eager to discover how they came to know our location, and why exactly they felt emboldened to attack us. I admit that we seem to be their target, but as for the reason—I can only guess."

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Christoff let out a sharp exhale of air through his nose before stepping forward to search the demon matriarch’s body for clues. Pom seized the opportunity to step closer, her anxiety driving her to speak.

"M-Mr. Christoff, sir! My family… Do you know if any of them were harmed in this morning’s attack?"

Christoff glanced up at Pom casually as he emptied the contents of the leather pouches at the demoness’ waist. A small grin tugged at the corner of his lips as he returned Pom’s stare before he turned back to his task.

"You can be at ease, Miss Pom. Your family wasn’t among today’s unfortunate victims."

Anthony and Elara turned to their red-haired companion, smiling brightly in response to the good news as they watched the fearful tension drain from her body. After that small distraction, everyone's attention quickly shifted back to the strange items being laid out on the ground.

Belle seemed to catch sight of something of interest. She stepped forward, using the tip of her dagger to lift a piece of thick, red leather from the pile. It had been wrapped tightly around something and bound with string. Bloody symbols covered the exterior, and a thick, cloying scent of death clung to it.

"Have you found something?" Christoff asked, his hands slowing down from his task as he looked over toward Belle.

The group all turned toward the eerie item in Belle’s grasp, waiting for her to explain. But she remained silent while carefully cutting the string before placing the object on the ground, allowing the leather flaps to fall open.

Everyone watched in interest as a pile of thin bones spilled out from inside the wrapping, each one covered in crude inscriptions running the length of its exterior.

Belle gently pushed the bones aside, revealing the image painted inside the red leather—a grotesque demonic face, ringed by dozens of red eyes stretching all the way around its head.

Both Edgar and Christoff visibly tensed at the sight, while Elara turned to Belle with a questioning look. Belle did not leave her granddaughter in the dark for long, quietly speaking to fill in the newer members of the troop about the meaning of the image.

"Malgog… the wretched demon god of prophecy. This demoness traded her allegiance for glimpses of the future. It’s an ill-advised bargain to make, as Malgog is a treacherous being. He is known for showing his followers half-truths, twisting their visions in such a way as to lead them into acting against their own best interests."

She gestured toward the dead demons around them as she continued.

"These foolish creatures rushed toward their own deaths, likely at Malgog’s command with some false notion of who we are and what they stood to gain by attacking us."

Christoff rose to his feet, rubbing his chin as he stared down at Malgog’s image inside the sack of bones.

"That explains how these demons knew where to find your group—but not why an ancient demonic god would be targeting you."

Edgar stepped beside Christoff, placing a firm hand on the young man’s shoulder, his expression turning grave as he spoke.

"The machinations of such a being bring trouble wherever they surface. Leave it there, Christoff. If our group has truly drawn the demon god’s ire, then our departure means it is no longer Whitestone’s problem."

Christoff stared at Edgar for a long moment before slowly shutting his eyes and exhaling deeply. When he reopened them, he quickly stepped away from the corpse, saying a quick farewell while waving a hand behind him as he strode into the woods after his men.

"Safe journeys. May the thick walls of Highwarden keep your people safe from harm."

Edgar nodded as he watched Christoff leave. Once the man was gone, the mercenary leader bent down and retrieved the matriarch’s daggers from the pile of items, along with the few pieces of silver the dead creatures had possessed, stuffing them into his pack before hefting it over his shoulders.

Edgar waited for the group to fall into position behind him, then gestured down the slope ahead with one hand to signal their departure before stepping onto the mountain trail once more.

Anthony gave the body of the demon his team had fought one last, lingering stare before quickly rushing forward to follow his teammates.