Elias stepped into the small countryside village of Yakima with two of his men following closely behind.
Something was wrong.
The streets were crowded, yet silent. Villagers moved about stiffly, their eyes lowered, their movements cautious—as if even breathing too loudly could invite punishment.
The faint sound of heated metal bending echoed from somewhere deeper in the village. Demons strolled openly along the streets, their presence dominating the atmosphere like an invisible chain wrapped around every human neck.
Elias scanned the area carefully.
Children were crying.
But their parents only stood there, watching. No comfort. No embrace. Just fear.
He turned into another street and soon reached the center of the village. A wooden platform stood tall, and upon it—a young man, bruised and emaciated, rope tied tightly around his neck.
A public execution.
Elias stepped beside a villager.
"What did he do?" he asked calmly.
"He's a witch," the villager replied in a low voice. "He purified the water. Went against the village chief."
"The village chief?" Elias asked.
The villager nodded stiffly. "No one dares oppose him. If you wish to survive, avoid his wrath."
Elias looked up at the condemned man.
He looked barely alive—like someone who had been starved and tortured for months.
For a brief moment, Elias considered intervening.
But he remained still.
He couldn't act recklessly. Not without understanding the full situation. His men depended on him.
The young man suddenly lifted his head weakly.
"Evil… Evil has come…" he rasped, barely breathing.
A sharp gunshot split the air.
The body fell.
The head rolled across the wooden platform.
The demons laughed.
"This is what happens to anyone who defies the Chief!" the commander roared.
The villagers lowered their heads and quietly returned to their activities—as if nothing had happened.
Silence swallowed the square.
"The condition here is worse than we expected," one of Elias's men muttered.
"It is," Elias replied quietly.
As they passed by the houses, they saw children drinking from wooden cups filled with a thick, dark liquid.
Elias approached them and crouched down.
"Why are you drinking that?" he asked gently, pulling out a flask of clean water and offering it to them.
Before the children could take it, their mothers rushed forward, knocking the flask from his hand and pulling the children behind them.
Elias slowly stood.
"I mean no harm," he said calmly. "I'm only concerned."
"That's what we are permitted to drink," one child said timidly.
"There is no clean water here," the other added.
Their mothers quickly covered their mouths, silencing them.
Suspicion filled their eyes. To them, Elias and his men were strangers. Possibly spies.
"It's none of your business, Mister," one of the woman said boldly.
They grabbed their children and hurried away.
Elias watched them leave.
"How can humans drink something like that?" one of his men asked in disbelief.
Elias's eyes darkened.
"Find out who this village chief is," he ordered Bruno.
Then he turned to the other.
"Investigate the substance used to pollute the water—and why the demons are forcing the villagers to consume it."
The two men nodded and disappeared into the village.
Elias remained standing in the center of Yakima.
Watching.
Calculating.
Something far more sinister was unfolding here.
And he intended to uncover it.