Damned.

The village elder led them toward a modest hall at the center of the square, its wooden beams warped by age and weather. The air inside carried the scent of damp earth and old parchment. A long wooden table stretched across the room, dim lanterns flickering overhead.

Rael and Gale took their seats as the elder settled across from them. A few villagers lingered near the entrance, their faces lined with fatigue and something deeper—fear.

Rael leaned forward, fingers tapping idly against the wooden surface. "Start from the beginning. I need every detail."

The elder let out a weary sigh.. "It began three weeks ago. At first, it was only the livestock—goats, chickens, even a horse gone missing. No blood, no sign of struggle. We thought it was bandits. But then—" His voice wavered. "Then it was people."

A woman clutched her hands together. "We lost our neighbor, Edric, just five nights ago. He left his house to check on his fields after dusk… and he never came back."

Another villager, a wiry man with a scruffy beard, muttered, "It ain't just the vanishings. It's the sounds."

"The whispers," Gale said flatly.

The man nodded. "Aye. They come at night. Soft, like wind through the trees. But it ain't the wind. They call names. Sometimes they call for folk who are already gone. Other times…" His throat bobbed. "Other times, they call for those still here."

Rael's gaze sharpened. "And those who hear their own names?"

Silence.

"They don't last long," the elder admitted finally.

Rael frowned. The pattern was strange—unusual even for demonic activity. Most demons either killed indiscriminately or fed on fear. This was deliberate. Intelligent.

"If this started three weeks ago," he said, "then why did your request at the Adventurers' Guild only mention livestock?"

A brief pause.

The elder lowered his gaze. "We… we were afraid."

"Afraid?" Gale scoffed. "Of what? Getting help?"

"No." The elder's hands tightened into fists. "Of attracting the Order's judgment."

Rael stayed quiet. That was enough explanation. The Order was efficient, but they had no patience for uncertainty. If they deemed a village compromised, they wouldn't waste time investigating. They would burn it down and erase any potential threat.

"We needed help, but we had to be careful. If we were wrong—if it was just a wild beast or a stray sorcerer—we couldn't risk bringing the full weight of the Order upon us."

Rael leaned back. He understood.

"This isn't a simple demonic infestation," he finally said. "Demons don't usually take their time picking off victims. And the whispering—if it's real—suggests something capable of targeted manipulation."

Gale shot him a look. "You think it's a named entity?"

"Possibly." Rael glanced back at the villagers. "But we won't know until we investigate."

The elder hesitated. "The last place anyone vanished was the forest path beyond the eastern fields."

Rael nodded. "Then that's where we go."

* * *

Night had settled over the village by the time Rael and Gale stepped out of the hall. A cold wind swept through the empty square, rustling the banners hanging limply from wooden poles. The village was eerily silent—no idle chatter, no barking dogs, no sounds of livestock.

"They're scared out of their minds," Gale muttered, adjusting the grip on his sword.

Rael said nothing at first. He had been thinking over the details of the elder's account, matching it against the guild's quest briefing. The discrepancies weren't small—one described routine demonic disturbances, the kind that could be handled by a couple of competent adventurers. But the elder's words painted a different picture, one of disappearances, fear, and something lurking in the dark.

"This isn't just fear," Rael finally said. "It's restraint. They're holding something back."

Gale exhaled sharply. "Then why even bother requesting help? Doesn't make sense."

"Maybe they didn't," Rael replied. "Or maybe they thought sending half the truth was enough."

Gale frowned but didn't argue. If there was one thing they had learned about the world of Ascent, it was that NPCs weren't scripted. They had motives, fears, and secrets—just like real people.

"Either way," Rael continued, "we're here. We find out what's really happening."

Their path led them eastward, toward the outskirts of the village. The dirt road stretched between patches of farmland, flanked by crude wooden fences. Most fields were barren, save for a few signs of withered crops—perhaps abandoned when the troubles began.

The deeper they walked, the heavier the air became. It wasn't just the cold—it was the weight of silence. No insects, no rustling from nocturnal animals. Just the wind.

Then, in the distance, the first real clue.

A scarecrow stood at the edge of an empty field, arms outstretched, its head tilted at an unnatural angle. Torn fabric flapped limply in the breeze, and something about its posture made Rael uneasy.

"Look at that," Gale muttered, nodding toward it. "Why the hell does it feel like it's watching us?"

Rael didn't reply, but the thought had crossed his mind too. He kept walking, but this time, his fingers brushed against his sword's hilt.

Then they reached the tree line.

The forest beyond was thick with shadows, trees clustered so tightly together that only slivers of moonlight pierced through the gaps. The village elder had mentioned the disappearances happening near the woods—but something was wrong.

There were no tracks. No signs of a struggle.

Rael crouched, running his fingers over the dirt. "No footprints. No blood. Nothing."

Gale scanned the area. "So where the hell did they go?"

Then, a rustling.

Rael's head snapped up.

At the forest's edge, just beyond where the light reached, something moved. A slow, deliberate shift in the darkness.

Not an animal. Not a villager.

Something else.

A presence.

Gale's hand tightened on his sword. "You seeing this?"

"Yeah."

The thing in the dark remained still. Watching. Waiting.

Then, without a sound, it vanished deeper into the forest.

Rael exhaled slowly.

"Looks like we're going in," he said.

Gale sighed. "Of course we are."

* * *

The moment Rael and Gale crossed into the forest, the air thickened. Not in the way of mist or humidity—this was different. It was like stepping into a place where the world itself had grown heavier, where sound was muffled, and the space between trees stretched unnaturally.

The dirt beneath their boots was soft, but no footprints remained after they stepped forward. The silence deepened. Even the wind had died.

Gale let out a breath sharply. "I hate this."

Rael didn't answer. He had already drawn his sword, keeping it low but ready. His instincts screamed that something wasn't right.

Then—movement.

Fast.

From the trees to their right, something lunged. A blur of black and gray, moving with unnatural speed.

Rael twisted, his sword flashing in the dark. Steel met resistance—a crunch, followed by a shrill, gurgling screech. The thing recoiled, landing several feet away.

It wasn't human.

The creature stood on all fours, its body wiry and elongated, skin stretched thin over bones that jutted at wrong angles. Its face was a mockery of a man's, hollow-eyed and slack-jawed, a long tongue flickering out between jagged teeth.

Gale didn't hesitate. He charged, his sword igniting with a dull crimson glow—a martial spell, Searing Strike. His blade slashed in an arc, carving through the air—

The creature dodged. Its body twisted unnaturally, bending backward, bones cracking as it contorted out of the sword's path.

"Fast," Gale growled, pivoting on his foot.

Rael had already moved. He activated Soulstep, vanishing from his position and reappearing behind the creature in an instant. His sword came down in a ruthless vertical slash—

A hit.

The blade cut through its spine.

The creature shrieked, its body jerking violently. A burst of black mist erupted from the wound, sizzling against Rael's armor. The thing collapsed, spasming, before going completely still.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then—more movement.

From the trees.

From the ground.

From everywhere.

The shadows stirred, and more figures emerged. Crawling. Slithering. Dozens of them. Their hollow eyes locked onto the two intruders.

Rael exhaled. "Of course it wouldn't be just one."

Gale tightened his grip on his sword. "Plan?"

Rael raised his weapon.

"Kill them all."

Then he noticed it.

A scrap of cloth, clinging to the nearest creature's emaciated body. Torn and dirty, but unmistakable.

It was a villager's tunic.

Rael's grip tightened. His gaze flickered across the others. More rags. Some still had belts or shoes barely hanging onto their twisted limbs.

These weren't just monsters.

They were people.

"Wait," Rael muttered, stepping forward cautiously.

Gale frowned. "Wait? Are you seeing the same things I am?"

Rael ignored him, focusing on the creature closest to him. Its mouth twitched, lips peeling back to expose jagged teeth, but its milky eyes—there was something there. Something trapped.

Something human.

His mind moved fast. The quest had said demonic activity. Had the villagers been taken? No—worse. They had been turned.

Gale's blade was still alight with Searing Strike, his posture tensed to attack. "Rael, what the hell are you—"

"They're the villagers," Rael cut in. His voice was low, controlled. "Look at their clothes."

Gale hesitated for a fraction of a second. Then he cursed. "Shit."

The creatures didn't charge recklessly like mindless beasts. They closed in with precise, measured steps—movements that felt wrong, like broken marionettes being forced into battle stances they shouldn't have known. Their hollow eyes held no hatred, no anger—only a terrible, empty hunger.

And yet, the way they flanked him and Gale wasn't random.

It was deliberate.

Rael tightened his grip around his sword. Something's controlling them.

The thought barely settled before the first creature lunged.

A blur of twisted limbs and snapping jaws—Rael flicked his wrist, activating Soulstep. His body blurred, leaving an afterimage in his wake as he reappeared three meters away. The creature's claws tore through empty space, its head twisting unnaturally to track him.

It was fast. But not fast enough.

Rael's sword was already in motion.

Ruinous Strike.

A clean, diagonal slash. The blade cut through the thing's torso, black mist erupting from the wound. But instead of a cry of pain, there was only a wet gurgle as the body convulsed, then collapsed in on itself like a puppet with its strings cut.

Rael barely had time to process it before three more surged forward.

Gale met them head-on.

"Impact Break!"

A stomp. A swing. The sheer force of the impact sent one of the creatures flying backward, its body slamming against a tree with a sickening crunch. Another lunged at him, and Gale pivoted mid-motion, slamming his shoulder into it before driving his sword clean through its chest.

For a brief moment, the two of them stood amidst a field of motionless corpses.

Rael steadied himself. Too easy.

And that's when he noticed it.

The bodies weren't bleeding.

There was no blood. No signs of real wounds, despite their broken forms. Instead, something else leaked from them—thin trails of black mist, curling into the air like dying embers.

It didn't disperse.

It sank—slipping into the dirt, pooling beneath their feet.

Rael's muscles tensed. "Gale, step back."

Gale frowned but moved without question.

And then—

A pulse.

The air trembled. The ground vibrated with something sickly, unnatural.

Then the corpses twitched.

Bones cracked and reset. Limbs twisted back into place.

They were rising.

Gale swore. "Oh, come on."

Rael's mind was already working. No normal monster does this. This isn't a simple corruption. If they had been ordinary creatures tainted by dark magic, they would have stayed dead.

But this wasn't just corruption.

This was possession.

"We need to find the source," he said, his voice calm despite the situation. "Whatever's controlling them, it's nearby."

Gale exhaled sharply. "Right. And let me guess—we're not running?"

"No." Rael's eyes flickered with cold precision. "We cut through."

He moved before the creatures fully regained their footing.

This time, he didn't hold back.

Ruinous Strike.

The energy in his blade flared brighter, and the force of his slash shattered through three creatures in a single stroke. The black mist within them screamed—this time, the mist didn't sink into the ground. It evaporated.

Rael's eyes narrowed. Stronger abilities negate the possession completely.

He adjusted his approach instantly. No more half-measures. If they were going to break through, every strike needed to be decisive.

Gale caught on quickly.

His next attack wasn't just a simple sword swing—it was a full-powered ability. "Thunderous Cleave!" His blade crackled with energy as it tore through the creatures, their bodies seizing before disintegrating into mist.

The creatures hesitated.

For the first time, they wavered.

Rael didn't let them regroup.

He and Gale pushed forward—toward the village, toward the source of this corruption.

Something was waiting for them.

And it wasn't going to let them leave alive.

The battle had ended, but the air remained heavy. The last remnants of black mist curled into the wind before vanishing. The silence that followed wasn't comforting—it was watchful.

Gale exhaled, resting his sword on his shoulder. "Well, that was fun. Guessing this wasn't in the quest description?"

Rael didn't answer immediately. His gaze swept over the area, noting the scattered remains of the creatures they had cut down. Some of them still had scraps of clothing clinging to their forms—tattered, but distinct.

Gale noticed too. His expression darkened. "These were villagers."

Rael's grip tightened slightly. "Not just villagers." His mind worked through the implications. The quest they had accepted described demonic activity nearby, not missing people. And yet, these creatures had clearly been human once.

Did the guild not know? Or did someone alter the quest details?

A sound broke his thoughts—the crunch of footsteps.

Both he and Gale turned sharply.

The old man from earlier—the village elder—approached cautiously, his hands raised slightly in what was meant to be a peaceful gesture. But there was something off about his expression. Not fear. Not relief.

Something else.

Rael didn't lower his sword. "You knew something was wrong."

The old man hesitated. "Blessed one?"

"The disappearances," Rael continued. "You knew they weren't just accidents. That something worse was happening."

A flicker of something passed through the man's weathered features. "We did not wish to burden outsiders with our tragedy."

"Then what did you wish to do?" Gale's voice was sharp. "Wait and hope they'd come back?"

The elder didn't answer. Instead, he sighed deeply, shoulders sagging. "Come," he said. "There are things you must see."

Rael exchanged a glance with Gale before following.

* * *

The village was eerily quiet. Despite the earlier fear, no one stopped them. The villagers still hid behind doors and windows, their gazes like shadows creeping along the edges of Rael's vision.

The village elderled them to a small shrine at the village's center—a modest stone structure, old but well-kept. He stopped before its entrance, placing a hand on the weathered surface.

"This place," the elder murmured, "was once a place of worship."

Rael frowned. "Once?"

The old man's hand curled into a fist. "We were abandoned."

The words carried weight.

Rael stayed silent, waiting.

The elder drew in a slow breath. "Years ago, we were devout followers of the Order. We paid tithes, followed the scriptures. And yet, when hardship came—when our village was on the brink—they did nothing." His voice hardened. "No priests came. No knights rode to our aid. Only silence."

His gaze drifted toward the altar. "But something else listened."

Gale shifted uneasily. "And this 'other'… what exactly did it ask for?"

The elder hesitated. Then, with quiet resolve, he stepped aside. "See for yourselves."

Rael and Gale stepped into the shrine.

The stone walls were lined with faded carvings—once depicting the Order's symbol, now defaced. Deep, jagged markings ran through them, altering their shapes into something unrecognizable.

At the shrine's center lay an altar.

And on it, something pulsed.

A dark crystal, no larger than a man's fist, embedded in stone. It seemed to drink the light around it, an abyssal core surrounded by faint whispers.

Gale muttered a curse. "That's definitely not Order-approved."

Rael studied the crystal, mind racing. This wasn't ordinary demonic corruption. If the villagers had been transformed, then the source had to be more than just ambient energy.

This was an active force.

His gaze shifted back to the elder. "This power..." he gestured to the altar, "you knew what it was, didn't you?"

The old man swallowed, his expression heavy with something more than regret.

"I knew," he admitted. "But what choice did I have?" His voice wavered, but there was no plea for forgiveness. "My only son—my pride—was branded a heretic for a mistake, a mere misstep in their eyes. I pleaded, I begged, but the Order showed no mercy. They left me with nothing but sorrow and a burning need for retribution."

His tone settled into something steadier. "So I sought power in the only place that would listen."

Rael exhaled slowly, his grip tightening on his sword. "And what did you expect?" His voice was unreadable. "That this would bring him back? That it would change anything?"

The elder didn't answer immediately. His shoulders sagged, as if the weight of it all had finally settled in.

"I told myself it would," he said at last. "That if I was strong enough, if I gave enough, I could fix what they had taken from me." A bitter chuckle escaped him. "But in the end, all I did was trade one kind of damnation for another."

His eyes lifted, hollow but resolute. "And now, I will share in it."

Before Rael or Gale could press further, a sudden disturbance shattered the heavy silence. The air around the altar rippled, as if a tear had opened in reality itself. A ghostly light seeped through the fissure—a swirling portal, dark and pulsating with malevolent energy.

Out of that flickering vortex, a skeletal hand, wrapped in shadow, shot forward. It clutched at the elder's wrist with a vice-like grip.

The elder didn't resist.

Rael saw it in his eyes—not terror, not disbelief, but resignation. A man who had long since decided how his story would end.

Gale cursed under his breath, but the elder only turned to them one last time. His expression, though filled with regret, held something else as well. Perhaps relief.

"Wait!" Rael shouted, lunging forward, but it was too late.

The elder was pulled into the abyss without struggle. No screams, no fight. The gateway snapped shut behind him as quickly as it had opened, leaving nothing but an echo in the empty shrine.

Gale's voice was low and dangerous. "What in the—?"