At the same time, ten li outside of Mondo, deep within a dense forest.
Hall was fleeing in a sorry state, his forehead streaked with blood.
He reached out and forcefully shoved aside the thorny undergrowth in front of him, gasping for breath.
"Cough—cough… damn it…"
The scorching air felt as though it were burning straight through his lungs. He cursed inwardly, unable to understand why that demon had been so powerful.
And why it had chosen to attack at the exact moment Yuhran left.
If not for the high-intensity flashlight Yuhran had given him—used to disperse shadows and draw the demon's attention—he would likely already be dead.
He wouldn't even have been able to save those villagers.
Fortunately…
"Hiss—!"
The wound on his body split open again. Sticky blood soaked through his robe, and the fabric rubbing against the injury sent waves of searing pain through him.
He glanced down at his blood-soaked body. The dizziness from excessive blood loss darkened the edges of his vision, and his face visibly paled.
Whoosh!
The sound of wind came from behind him. The shadows of the trees twisted unnaturally for an instant—the demon was still in pursuit.
Hearing this, Hall didn't dare think any further. He hastily cast Goddess magic to heal himself, gritting his teeth against the pain and weakness as he staggered onward.
Right now, only by finding Lord Yuhran did he stand a chance of killing that demon.
He could use the terrain to shake off the pursuit.
But if he abandoned it and the demon returned to devour the villagers, that outcome was equally unacceptable to him.
Thinking of this, Hall clenched his teeth hard.
"Damn it… these vile, man-eating bastards!"
"Lord Yuhran—you must still be there!"
His bloodshot eyes locked onto the direction of Mondo, his breathing growing increasingly ragged.
…
Behind him.
Shaton hovered in midair, pale fingers twirling a strand of black hair as he gazed down at Hall's desperate flight. His eyes narrowed slightly.
If he remembered correctly, a human town lay ahead.
So the person who had given this priest the magic tool that produced light—lived in that town?
Interesting. If not to cast a long line and reel in a bigger fish, why would he have let Hall escape in the first place?
A mere human, after all.
"The memories transmitted before my clone died told me there were three attackers. The priest was one—so who were the other two?"
"Tch, whatever. No matter who they are, I already know how they countered my shadow magic. I won't fall for it again."
Brimming with confidence, Shaton continued manipulating the shadows below, creating disturbances to force Hall to keep running.
He followed leisurely, savoring the game of cat and mouse.
Several hours later, as they neared the human town, one of his clones flashed forward and slipped into Hall's shadow.
"!"
The hairs on the back of Hall's neck stood on end. A bone-chilling cold raced up his spine and exploded at the back of his head.
He looked back—but saw nothing. Only the rustling of grass in the wind.
With no time to think, he could only chalk it up to an illusion and stumble toward the city guards, asking—
Whether they had seen a man and a female elf traveling together.
"…Deacon Hall? What happened to you…?"
It was noon, and the blazing sun had heated the stone pavement until it radiated warmth.
The guards, made lethargic by the weather, lounged crookedly in the shade beneath the city walls.
But the moment they saw Hall's bloodstained robes, their drowsiness vanished. They straightened at once, shock written across their faces.
The squad leader couldn't help but step forward.
In his memory, Deacon Hall—the strongest priest in the surrounding area—always returned from outings radiant and unscathed.
So why this time… had he encountered some fearsome enemy?
Subconsciously gripping the hilt of his sword, the man swallowed and replied decisively, not daring to pry further.
"Yes. There was indeed a human man and a female elf who entered the city this morning. May I ask if you're looking for them?"
"You—go get some water, quickly! Deacon, please sit and rest for a moment."
He immediately ordered someone to bring over a stool for Hall.
At the same time, his gaze drifted beyond the moat, eyes narrowing.
"To injure the Deacon this badly… it must be extremely strong. If it comes after him…"
The distant forest swayed faintly in the heat haze, as though something horrifying lurked within.
His heart clenched, cold sweat soaking his back.
—No. We need to inform the church.
His nerves taut, his fingers decisively reached for the horn at his waist.
Nearby, Hall drank two full water skins before barely recovering his strength.
Though his face remained pale from blood loss, he still slowly pushed himself upright, bracing his hands on his knees.
"Wait. Don't act rashly. That demon is not something you can deal with. Just go notify the two people I mentioned."
Hall wasn't sure whether they would help him.
But at the very least, Yuhran had been willing to act for villagers he'd never met. In Hall's eyes, that alone proved he possessed a measure of kindness and justice.
To avoid bringing disaster into Mondo, he wouldn't enter the city. That way, if the demon appeared, he could continue luring it away.
The lead guard froze at his words.
Would notifying just those two really be enough?
Who exactly were they—to warrant such trust from Deacon Hall?
Yet with no understanding of priests or demons, he could only comply.
As he turned, he signaled his comrades. The soldiers immediately dispersed, searching the city, some heading straight for the church.
Seeing this, Hall finally let out a breath of relief.
Just as he set down the water skin and prepared to use magic to heal himself again, his eyes abruptly fell upon his own shadow.
His eyelids twitched violently. His pupils contracted, and cold sweat instantly drenched his back.
Wait a moment…
…
Inside the church.
Yuhran's palm made contact with the floating holy tome.
The material of the book was very soft, like some kind of leather, yet it carried a warmth that felt almost alive.
Before he could even speculate on what the questioning of the heart might entail, the holy tome erupted in a blinding white light, forcing him to squint.
It was warm—but at the same time, Yuhran felt a faint, needle-like sting, as if countless tiny currents were coursing through him.
"This is…?"
Instinctively, he tried to pull his hand back, only to find it gently but firmly fixed in place by some unseen force.
Rustle—rustle—
The pages flipped rapidly.
A sacred, ethereal voice suddenly rang out beside his ear—distant yet near, as though echoing from far away, and yet resonating directly within his mind.
"Thou…"
…
Not far away, Milialde narrowed her eyes, trying to discern whether anything existed around the holy tome.
Unfortunately, aside from light and flowing magical power, there was nothing at all.
"So that's how it is."
A trace of disappointment flickered in her pupils.
She didn't particularly care whether the Goddess truly existed, but with such a rare chance to observe things up close, she certainly wouldn't pass it up.
As she continued watching, Yuhran opened his mouth and spoke. She didn't catch it clearly.
Judging from his lip movements, it seemed to be an unfamiliar language.
The language of his homeland?
Milialde frowned, unconsciously taking half a step forward—then forcing herself to stop.
She pressed her lips together.
She couldn't understand it at all.
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