The next morning came with the chirp of birds that had no right to sound so cheerful.
"Hey, where are you going?" asked Flinn, poking his head out of the tent.
"To the village, of course," Lexel said, stretching his stiff arms. "I need to check on Anthierin."
"You really love your wife, huh?" Flinn teased, a smirk audible in his voice.
"Emm... Yeah, yeah, of course," Lexel muttered, waving a hand dismissively. Right. Nearly forgot about the cover story.
"Well, just remember you owe me 5,000 G for that potion," Flinn called out. "So you better not run away. Trust me, I'll know."
Lexel paused, turning back. "5,000? It was 1,000 yesterday."
"Interest rates are brutal these days," Flinn shrugged.
"What are you? A loan shark?"
"I... I have no idea what you're talking about," Flinn said innocently, dusting off his mask. "Now, shoo, shoo! Go back to your wife. But be careful out there."
"Why?"
"Because," Flinn's voice dropped an octave, losing its playfulness. "Sometimes the monsters inside the walls are worse than the ones outside."
Lexel frowned. "What do you mean?"
"I rest my case," Flinn said, retreating into the bushes. "Anything more would cost you extra."
"Right," Lexel rolled his eyes. "See you later then."
"No, I'll see you later," Flinn said.
Lexel blinked, looking at the bush Flinn had jumped behind. "You know I can see you, right? That's a very small bush."
"No, you can't," Flinn's voice whispered loudly.
"Whatever, man." Lexel shook his head and started walking toward the village.
---
Lexel entered the plains hosting the Blacksmith's workshop. The morning sun bathed the stone cottage in a warm, peaceful light. From the outside, everything seemed normal—no claw marks, no shattered windows, no sign of the chaos from the woods.
He pushed open the heavy oak door. "Excuse me! I'm here to buy a sword! Preferably one that doesn't break in three hits!"
The bell chimed above him. Ding-ling.
Silence.
The reception desk was empty. The forge was cold. There was no smell of burning coal or hot iron.
Is she taking a shower?
A mischievous grin spread across Lexel's face. He locked his knees, walking silently on the balls of his feet. He crept past the anvil, glancing left and right. His grin grew wider as he spotted the door to the living quarters slightly ajar.
Inches by inches. Meters by meters.
He leaned against the wall like an amateur ninja, his heart racing—not from battle, but from the prank. He slipped the door open ever so carefully. The old, rugged hinges didn't make a sound.
He burst in.
"OOPS! I'm sorry, I didn't notice that you're... here?"
Lexel's joy faded instantly.
The room was empty. The bed hadn't been slept in; the sheets were pristine.
He exited the house, hands on his hips. The silence of the workshop wasn't peaceful anymore; it was heavy. It was the silence of a tomb.
He looked toward the village center. A low hum of voices drifted on the wind. It wasn't the happy chatter of a market day. It was the low, angry buzz of a hive.
The Town Square.
Lexel jogged toward the gathering. As he neared the fountain, he didn't enter the crowd. Instead, he leaped onto a low roof, peering over the heads of the villagers.
His eyes widened. His blood turned to ice.
The surviving villagers were gathered in a semi-circle. In the center, kneeling in the dirt, was Anthierin. Her hands were bound behind her back with rough rope. Her rich chestnut hair hung over her face, matted with dirt, hiding her expression.
"This is all Anthierin's fault!" a villager shouted, pointing a trembling finger.
"Yeah! The monster would have been easily dealt with if Viscoff were alive! He could have called his guildmates to protect us!"
"That's right! She brought this curse on us!"
"Now, now," Chief Teddy said, raising his hands in a gesture of mock peace. He stood over Anthierin like a benevolent judge, his face a mask of practiced sorrow.
"It's not entirely Anthierin's fault," Teddy said smoothly. "It's her husband's fault for killing Viscoff. But since he is dead... is it only right that she bears the burden?"
"That's right!" the crowd roared. "Blood for blood!"
"NO!"
Anthierin snapped her head up. Her green eyes were red-rimmed but blazing with fury.
"It wasn't my fault! Why are you doing this to me, you asshole?!" she screamed, her voice cracking but holding firm. "WHY?!"
Teddy looked down at her. His eyes were dead cold.
You know why, his gaze seemed to say. You saw me trip Miller. You saw me leave him to die to save my own skin. If you live, my reputation dies. You are a loose end, Anthierin. And loose ends get cut.
"W-What the fuck happened here?!"
A loud, unfamiliar shout broke the tension.
The villagers turned. A party of three adventurers stood at the edge of the square.
Leading them was a burly man in heavy plate armor, carrying a massive greatsword. Beside him was a skinny mage in an oversized cloak, clutching a staff. Bringing up the rear was a shielder with no helmet, scanning the perimeter.
"It's the Begin Guild," whispers rippled through the crowd. "Goro is here."
Teddy's eyes lit up. "Ah! Thank the gods you're here."
"We saw the smoke," Goro, the leader, grunted. "Viscoff didn't report in. What happened here?"
"Viscoff was murdered," Teddy said gravely. "And the village was attacked by a monster."
"Wait, what?!" Goro looked shocked. "Who killed him?"
"A Dark Mantis," said the skinny mage, Yara. He pushed his glasses up his nose, ignoring the drama to look at the fountain.
"Indeed," Teddy nodded. "We were ransacked. Your guild building was not spared either."
"Who killed Viscoff?" Goro demanded again, his hand drifting to his sword hilt.
"Th-That was Lexel," Teddy answered, pointing a dramatic finger at the sky. "He is... well, was... Anthierin's husband."
"Anthierin? The blacksmith woman had a husband?" Goro frowned, finally noticing the bound woman on the ground.
"Interesting," said the shielder. "Viscoff was hard-headed, but he was a strong Level 7. Killing him isn't easy."
"Never mind that," Yara interrupted, walking past them toward the fountain. "It's odd that a Dark Mantis attacked a village. Teddy, when did it happen?"
"Yesterday," Teddy said. "Right on the day of Viscoff's death."
Yara stopped. He looked at the massive, headless carcass of the Mantis lying near the fountain.
"Do you know who killed the Dark Mantis then?" Yara asked.
"What?" Teddy blinked. The villagers looked confused. Even Anthierin looked up, startled.
"Why the surprised look?" Yara pointed his staff at the corpse. "You can literally see its head over there. And its limbs... look at the sockets. They were torn off. Someone killed this thing. A Level 15 Boss monster doesn't just trip and die."
The villagers stared. They had been so consumed by fear and blame that they hadn't realized the monster was dead.
"YOU KILLED THE BOY, TEDDY!"
Anthierin suddenly screamed, her voice raw with desperation.
"That's right! I saw it! He tripped Miller to save himself! I know how rotten you are, Teddy! If you're going to kill me now to silence me, then let me say it! You're also the one who sacrificed my father during the hunt for the Mythril Ore! You son of a bitch!"
Teddy shook his head sadly, sighing loudly for the Guild members to hear. "The girl has lost it. Grief does terrible things to the mind. First she lost her father... now she lost her husband."
"Yeah! Yeah, my husband!" Anthierin laughed maniacally, tears streaming down her soot-stained face. "He killed that son of a bitch Viscoff! The one that always asked for a discount! Or a nip-fucking-slip! Oh, how I hope he died a miserable death! My husband cracked his neck like a chicken!"
The villagers gasped at her vulgarity.
Teddy didn't panic. Inwardly, he was smiling. Stupid woman. Don't you understand? By acting crazy, you're only proving my point. No one believes a madwoman.
"She's dangerous," Teddy whispered to Goro. "She's clearly unstable. She might attack the children next."
Anthierin struggled to stand up, her legs shaking from the stress. She looked around, seeing only judgment in the eyes of the people she had made tools for her entire life.
She was alone.
Tap. Tap.
Footsteps echoed on the cobblestones. Calm. Steady. Heavy.
The crowd parted instinctively. It wasn't out of respect, but out of an oppressive pressure pushing them aside.
A man with onyx-red hair and eyes like molten lava walked into the circle. His clothes were tattered rags, stained with dried blood, but his presence filled the square.
Anthierin's eyes widened. Her breath hitched.
Lexel walked straight to her. He didn't look at the Chief. He didn't look at the Guild.
He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her trembling body into his chest.
"It's okay," Lexel whispered into her ear, his hand stroking her messy hair. "It's okay."
"L-Lexel?" she sobbed, burying her face in his dirty shirt. "You came back?"
"Remember this day, Anthierin," Lexel said, his voice low but carrying across the silent square like the toll of a funeral bell. "Because this is the last time you will plead. This is the last time you will kneel."
Yara, the mage, furrowed his brows. He sensed something dangerous. Something wrong.
"Y... You're alive?" Chief Teddy stammered, his mask of composure cracking.
Lexel slowly lifted his head. His eyes locked onto the old man. The killing intent that surged from him was so thick it felt like the air itself had turned to lead.
"Yes," Lexel said, a cruel smile touching his lips. "Guess who won't be in the next five minutes?"