The horse-cab slowed as the road narrowed, the earth giving way to weathered planks reinforced with iron. A wooden palisade came into view—practical and worn, its posts etched with fading warding-glyphs.
Greythorn Village,
The driver reined in near a modest square dominated by an ancient oak. Villagers paused in their work, their gazes wary but not alarmed. Sora stepped down first, her footwear hitting the soil with a soft thud. Null followed, the cab door sealing behind them.
The air here was different—restrained, as if the land itself were holding its breath.
A man with beastkin features approached, flanked by two younger villagers. His face was a map of responsibility and sun-weathered grit. A wooden charm carved with forest sigils hung from his neck. He stopped a respectful distance away and inclined his head.
"Esteemed Cleric," he said, his voice edged with relief. "We are honored you answered our petition."
Sora returned the gesture, palm over her heart. "Village Chief. I am Sora. This is Null, my associate for this mission."
Null offered a curt nod. The chief, Eldrin, assessed him briefly before turning back to Sora. "Please," he said, gesturing toward a longhouse. "What we've witnessed is best explained without an audience."
***
Inside, the longhouse smelled of dried herbs and aged timber. A central hearth glowed with residual mana, though no fire burned. Carefully maintained wards lined the beams.
The chief motioned for them to sit.
"I've led Greythorn for twenty years," Eldrin began as they sat. "We know our forest. Every sound, every season." His jaw tightened. "That's why this troubles us."
Sora folded her hands atop her knees. "Start from the beginning."
"It was little over two weeks ago," Eldrin said, his voice rough. "The forest began to warp. Leaves blackened overnight. Game vanished. The mana—those sensitive to it said it felt thick. Putrid."
Null's curiosity gaze sharpened.
"We thought it was a passing disturbance. So we did what we always do. We hired an adventurer party," the chief continued, his hands clenching. "Six experienced veterans. They entered at dawn. By midday, they encountered it."
"A demon beast." He swallowed.
The words seemed to weigh down the room.
"It wasn't feral," Eldrin said. "It moved with intent. Wherever it passed, the trees twisted, roots bled black sap, and the ground cracked with demonic miasma. The adventurers fought it."
"And?" Null asked quietly.
"They didn't stand a chance," The chief's jaw tightened.
He forced himself to continue. "Its presence alone crushed their mana-flow. Spells misfired; blades dulled. Three died. The survivors fled with injuries that won't heal—burns and bones twisted by miasma." His breath hitched. "My son was among them. He was a frontliner. Strong. Stubborn. The healer says he may never fight again."
A heavy silence followed. Sora remained still, her eyes lowered as she processed the report.
A demon beast. Here. In a human settlement's forest? That's unusual.
"A Demon Beast does not manifest without cause," she softly frowned.
Null leaned forward slightly, attentive.
"There are three primary paths by which such a creature can exist."
She raised a finger. "The first is Demonization by accumulation. A native mana-beast succumbs if it bred maisma symptoms. Its core and nature darkens. And becomes a Fallen Beast, unstable and driven by an dark instinct to violently consume and grow stronger."
Eldrin nodded slowly, but Sora raised a second finger.
"The second is Environmental exposition. If maisma, the dark variant of mana, saturates the land, the habitat itself begins to breed demonic traits."
"That would imply a sustained source, right?" Null noted.
"Yes," Sora replied. "True mana does not naturally invert into maisma in such density. It would require a Demonic Ritual to forcibly convert the ambient magical energy."
Her gaze sharpened as she raised a third finger.
"The final possibility is Direct Influence. A high-ranking demon can possibly corrode beasts into vessels and reshape territory into demonic grounds by Infusing ample Demonseed Miasma into them."
"Either a Greater Demon," she added, "or an Archdemon."
The words lingered, heavy and unkind.
Greater Demon—Arch Demon—the line between manageable and catastrophic.
"If it is a Greater Demon," Sora said evenly, "I can handle it."
The statement was a clinical fact. Eldrin's eyes widened with a flicker of hope.
"But if it is an Archdemon…" Sora paused, the air in the longhouse growing heavy. "Then it is beyond my capability."
Eldrin swallowed hard. The silence was taut until Null broke it.
"So for now," he said, "we don't assume the worst."
Sora nodded, rising with a sudden, focused readiness. "We investigate. Quietly. We identify the source, assess the miasma density, and determine if this beast is a cause or a symptom. We will enter the forest at first light."
Eldrin stood abruptly, bowing deeply. "You have my deepest gratitude."
"One more thing," Sora added softly. "Have your son and the survivors brought to me. I can purge the residue corrosion and begin their healing."
Eldrin's breath shuddered. "Thank you," he whispered.