Planning the Hunt

"Rocher is usually a man's name," Noah remarked with a slight confusion.

"A name is just an alias. The soil of Gloom Keep is barren; my life has never been one of embroidery or weaving," she replied, her stature taller than many men.

"I admire noble and strong spirits," Gladius commented internally, with a hint of intrigue. "They are more satisfying to consume, or to simply influence, watching them break free and embrace their true selves can be quite entertaining."

"You mean 'corrupt and defile'," Noah responded in his mind.

Gladius sneered at the thought, "By your standards, mortals are born selfish and sullied. The so-called virtues of righteousness and diligence are merely distortions of human nature. What a joke."

Sitting on the hard wooden chair made Noah uncomfortable, but he focused on the matter at hand.

"I have a mission," Rocher stated plainly. "Lord Rene has tasked me with eliminating a winged demon posthaste. If you support this goal, we may collaborate. If you oppose it, I will have to detain you. Should you remain neutral, I will restrict your freedom temporarily until the threat is neutralized. This winged demon has caused significant turmoil in our lands, and any covert sabotage now could cost us control of the situation."

A winged demon!

"Actually, I'm a demon hunter," Noah revealed, finding no need to hide his identity any longer, especially with Rocher's directness which he appreciated.

"Demon hunter," Rocher mused, contemplating the weight of those words. "The demon escaped from your sanctuary during daylight, witnessed by many villagers."

"I'm unaware of the specifics, but I heard of a demon's rampage and hurried back to Greywood Hall."

"If I'm not mistaken, the sanctuary was under the management of Frederick, the Master Hunter of Upper Loman."

"Master Frederick fell in battle," Noah sighed, his voice heavy with loss. "Not just him; many others too."

"Permit me a moment of silence for him. Although we never met within the city walls, his deeds were well-known. He forsook his inheritance to battle demons for a lifetime. His death is a grave loss to this world." Rocher bowed her head in a silent prayer.

Noah mimicked her gesture of respect, whispering in his heart, "Sky god Aedwo, if you are there, please guide Frederick's soul and those of the other fallen..."

"Pathetic! Fair-weather believer!" Gladius erupted, "What do you mean 'if you are there'? If you doubt a god's existence, don't bother believing at all!"

"Why? I truly don't know if gods exist. If they did, they'd smite you with lightning."

"Oh, fearsome child," Gladius mocked, "At mere seventeen, already wishing to wield supernatural forces against a law-abiding demon. By the way, I've already consumed Frederick's soul. He'll be well looked after in my gut."

Rocher concluded her silent tribute.

Noah felt relieved he could return his focus to the real world instead of bickering with Gladius.

"As the winged demon fled from your sanctuary, you bear a clear responsibility as a demon hunter to help us eliminate it," Rocher stated.

"Yes, I require intel to increase my odds of defeating it."

"The 'winged demon' is a term born of necessity, named for its notable features. It possesses powerful wings, flying higher than common birds. Greedy and voracious, it attacks livestock and travelers day and night. At least thirty-nine people have fallen prey, countless animals slaughtered. The demon's feasting drives witnesses mad, some afflicted with a paranoia that sends them flapping their arms as if to take flight themselves. If the court wizards are correct, it's also absorbing souls to grow stronger, a fact you're likely more acquainted with as a hunter."

"I understand." Noah's worry deepened, knowing well that influencing mortal minds and absorbing souls were definitive demonic traits. If this one wielded illusions or puppetry like Gladius, it would be all the more formidable.

"Greywood Hall is the esteemed domain of Count Rene Alberta, a just and generous lord dedicated to protecting his people. Distressed since hearing the news, he's been consumed with worry. As his vassal, I've been charged with quelling this chaos. I'm perhaps the best, most suitable choice for the task, which I believe substantiates Lord Rene's right to rule."

Rocher's ambition was palpable, her eyes alight with it, despite Loman tradition preventing women from ascending the feudal ladder.

"I agree," Noah nodded.

"To avoid misunderstandings, I must also clarify that despite our lord's frugality, those who excel unexceptionally are duly rewarded with honors and wealth matching their talents. Without doubt, if you demonstrate sufficient prowess, I will report your deeds to the count, elevating your status."

Intrigued by the promise, Noah said, "Let's discuss how to hunt this demon."

"That won't be necessary."

Rocher's response caught Noah off guard.

Unnecessary? What did that mean? Why wouldn't they discuss how to hunt the demon? How to approach, attack, and eliminate it, ultimately ending the chaos. Wasn't this worth discussing?

"There's no need to discuss it? How will we deal with it?" Noah pressed.

"I don't yet know your name."

"I'm Noah."

"Well, Sir Noah. Before you arrived, we sought assistance from the Hunter's Guild when the winged demon first appeared, but nobody answered."

Of course not. All eight hunters had converged in the Twilight Forest to hunt the Blade demon. How could anyone remain at the sanctuary?

"We were all on a mission."

"Yes, hunters busy with missions while a demon terrorizes the countryside. We couldn't afford to wait for your return, so we've already established a highly efficient team. You'll cooperate with us."

"Cooperate?" Noah was incredulous, "Aside from demon hunters, who else knows how to combat demons?"

"You'll see." Rocher stood, instructing her soldiers, "Invite Mr. Tibert."

Only demon hunters knew how to slay demons—Logan had told Noah long ago, an unwavering belief in his heart. The appearance of others capable of confronting demons was hard to accept.

What if they didn't need me, didn't need a demon hunter... what then?

The wait was unsettling, but footsteps soon approached the tent, and a man entered.

"My lord, you summoned me?" A man with a middle-parted red hair and blue eyes, sporting a downy beard, entered with a nonchalant smirk, "You have a guest?" He took notice of Noah.

"Yes, Tibert, this is Noah, a demon hunter."

Upon hearing 'demon hunter,' Tibert's expression darkened, his stance defensive, hands crossed over his chest. But after a cursory glance at Noah, he relaxed.

"Oh, a demon hunter, impressive," he drawled mockingly, "The fabled hunters, professionals at slaying demons, must be quite skilled."

Noah's discomfort grew, but he remained silent.

"Look at those eyes," Tibert scoffed, "as if I'm some monster. Be mindful if he acts out, my lord."

"There's no need to worry. I trust Noah is committed to the grand cause of combating demons."

"Good." Tibert's smug grin faded, replaced by a feigned seriousness.

"Noah, as you've seen, we've hired the experienced Mr. Tibert from the Fells. With his mercenaries, he provides us with advanced tools for the hunt," Rocher explained.

"Demon's aren't defeated with mere 'tools'," Noah couldn't help but interject.

"Are you serious?" Tibert snorted, "It's not a tool; it's a war machine, the ruler of battles."

"Don't mind it," Rocher advised, "Some things are hard to acknowledge without seeing them firsthand."

"Exactly, Lady Rocher," Tibert nodded to her, then turned to Noah, "Let's go, I'll show you what true power is. Afterward, you'll realize how shallow your previous understanding was."

Noah's expression stiffened, curious to see what had instilled such confidence in them.