About the City

In the morning, Noah descended to the dining room.

The winter sunlight filtered through the windows, and the thick stone walls exuded a cold clarity. The long table was flanked by uniformly styled high-backed chairs, their cushions stolen, leaving bare seats. The stone walls were ornately carved with intricate reliefs, and the chandelier overhead retained only its iron frame. The fireplace was empty, with a thick layer of ashes accumulated, and the wall cabinet was smashed, awaiting replacement.

Ines sat at the table with her boots tossed up on it. She had changed clothes, draped in a woolen cloak lined with a black high-necked leather garment.

"It's even more broken down than I imagined," Ines complained casually. "The stove is empty, the beds are hard, and all the decorations are gone."

Noah glanced into the adjoining kitchen, where baskets on the stone countertops held milk, cheese, and meat.

"Did you go out?" he asked.

"Of course, if we can't train that imp to be a servant, we have to fend for ourselves. Lord Noah."

Noah heard a rustling sound and saw Hope following at his feet. When had it started tagging along?

"In Hell, there are thousands upon thousands of creatures just like you, constantly fighting each other, ordered around by more powerful demons," Noah said, recalling one of the most striking details from his journey.

"Ga," Hope blinked its eyes.

"How do you know about Hell? Have you been there?" Ines asked curiously.

"Demon scholars study these things. A qualified hunter should know everything about demons," Noah deflected.

"There are dead people on the streets, maybe killed by demons. They say something about a 'witch.'"

"What?" Noah sensed something was amiss.

"You should see for yourself. Everyone in the city is talking about the witch killings. When I went out, people seemed a bit panicky. After all, you're the only demon hunter here..." Ines tossed her hair back.

"Of course."

"Do you have any other orders for me? If not, I need to go to work. Sir." Ines shrugged, dropping her feet from the table.

Noah shook his head, so she left the dining room.

Learning to manage and adapt to being a leader was a complex process for Noah. He pondered how to recruit people, establish rules, and solidify rewards and punishments... A series of concerns tangled in his mind.

First, he needed to recruit the most basic members of the chapel.

Hmm...

"You need a sage to advise you," Gladius tempted gently. "Let the clever Blade Demon guide you."

"… You say."

"You should categorize people into three levels. The lowest level is those without ability or ambition, who won't break the rules and are very useful. They can help you with tasks you don't want to do. The middle level is those with abilities but no ambition; they'll dutifully carry out your commands and can serve as your organization's enforcers. The highest level is those with both ability and ambition; they should be your deputies and core supporters, managing some matters for you. Set goals for them, meet their expectations, and they won't oppose you."

"And Ines... What about someone like Ines?"

"Oh, Noah, step it up. If you can bed her, she'll be family. Look at her, when she slings her meter-long legs onto the table, you're already giving up your principles."

"I don't believe that."

"When you go outside, you'll see the world is full of these three levels of people, and your society has reserved places for each of them."

"What about those with no ability but plenty of ambition?"

"Just describing them is tragic."

Overall, Noah was getting a grip on things. He should recruit people and then assign them tasks based on their abilities and temperaments. To be a competent leader, he needed to set an example, provide platforms to showcase talents, and offer opportunities for development.

With these thoughts, Noah felt a bit more enlightened.

He grabbed milk and meat from the basket, filling up before leaving the chapel to investigate the deaths and look for opportunities to recruit new hands.

Only one place could simultaneously meet these two needs—the tavern.

The streets had been dusted with early snow. The Romans disliked the snow; ancient Rome had never seen it, their lands covered with lush forests in a hot and humid climate, beasts roaming freely, and people living off the foraged fruits without the need to farm. But then everything changed. In an ancient catastrophe known as "The Sundering," the sun fell, the world plunged into darkness, and snow blew in from the north, submerging half the country. The world shivered in the cold, and people had to cultivate grains, build homes, and collect firewood to keep warm.

Historians call the current era the Dark Age, for it lacks the warmth and light of ancient times. However, it also prevented the proliferation of dragons, whose cold blood craved sun-filled, hot climates. After Rome's climate shift, the temperature dropped, animal numbers dwindled, insufficient to sustain predators like dragons, and the dragon plague naturally faded.

Noah stepped over the light snow, noting the three- to four-story houses lining the streets, their roofs tiled uniformly. To ward off the snow, they were steeply pitched, creating sharp angles, with brick chimneys rising above. People subtly flaunted wealth through their chimneys, thus they were often built excessively high. He saw a lush pine tree planted at a crossroads square, encircled by stones—an outdated ancient practice to prevent tree spirits from escaping. Numerous stalls sold cabbage, radishes, and charcoal, with makeshift canopies laden with snow.

People dressed as warmly as possible, and the distinction between farmers and townsfolk was evident. Farmers wore plain, unitary coveralls, cinched at the waist with belts, while town residents donned fancy fitted robes layered with wool coats or short cloaks, their attire colorful, topped with round fur hats, looking quite spirited. Their demeanor was clear—contemptuous of the poor and beggars, intimidated by the guards, and outright avoiding eye contact with someone as armored as Noah.

"Halt!" A street guard called Noah to stop.

"I'm a demon hunter," Noah proclaimed, holding his arms, the blade concealed within his embrace. "I do many people's bidding but won't disturb public order."

The guard frowned, his face incapable of flexibility.

"I must confiscate your crossbow," he said. "It's illegal."

Noah had learned from Logan how to handle such situations.

"Do you oversee this street?" Noah asked.

"I'm an enforcer of the law," the guard insisted.

"We'll be seeing each other often." Noah hid two silver coins in his palm and shook hands with the guard, melting the guard's rigid expression into a friendly smile.

"Stay safe," the guard advised.

"Has there been any strange killing at night?"

"Yes, quite serious. Someone was murdered in the night, but not by a human... They say they saw a witch. It should be within your jurisdiction; the body is now in the Guard Tower," he said seriously.

Noah pondered. The Guard Tower was the heart of the city's defense, where people first reported incidents. The problem was, it was also where criminals were held—the city jail. Noah really didn't want to go there unless necessary. Demon hunters often got caught in misunderstandings and arrested, and it always took a lot of effort to escape. Now, going to inquire at the jail's doorstep, he couldn't help feeling like he was walking into a trap.

But it was a demon-related attack; Noah had to investigate.

"You can discover it yourself," Gladius whispered. "You don't need to take risks, right? I can help you. I can help you check this city thoroughly, find out where the problems are... Human guards are stupid and stubborn fools. They'll only waste your time, Noah... A demon hunter can carry out his mission alone. We don't need mortals getting in the way of our investigation."

Visit the Guard Tower to see the dead person? Or avoid the guards and investigate the demon's trail alone?

Noah pursed his lips, deep in thought.

He entered a tavern off the street, greeted by the smell of stale alcohol and vomit. He pinched his nose as several drunkards were piled in a corner, the tables and chairs freshly scrubbed, and the rosy-nosed owner waved from behind the counter: "Welcome!"

The ambience was dim, as it was daytime, and the candles were unlit. Noah took a seat at the bar, with rows of liquor behind him in the high cupboards.

"Have you heard about the recent night killings?" Noah asked.

"That's a taboo topic," the owner said cautiously. "What do you want to know?"

"Tell me everything you know," Noah said, ordering a drink.

The owner fetched a glass and poured Noah a strong-smelling beverage. He hoped the owner was dishonest enough to have diluted it sufficiently.

"What's this?"

"A juniper berry spirit, a method from the Mountainside Empire. This is the good stuff," the owner boasted.

"Tell me about what happened at night."

"It's awful," the owner set the tone. "Walking on the streets unguarded, then just 'eaten up,' with women's laughter heard."

"Eaten? Was it done by a monster?"

"Of course, but no one saw its true face. It's said half the body was bitten off. He was a dockworker or something. A real mess," the owner described mysteriously.

"Where did it happen?"

"Birchbottom Street, not far from the temple."

Noah finished half his drink. The juniper spirit smelled heavenly but tasted bitterly strong, and the backfire started blowing up in his head. The owner watched Noah's expression with a smirk, as if anticipating his reaction.

"I am," Noah pointed out, "a demon hunter."

"Oh, impressive," the owner said cheerily. "It's been a while since any hunter came by. Master Frederick still owes me money, and I heard your chapel was robbed."

"Things are bad, so I need to hire some people. If you know anyone looking for work, tell them to find me at the chapel," Noah spoke faster after the drink, thinking more hastily. "Spread the word. If you find the right people, I won't be stingy. I'll order my liquor here. And I need to write a notice, yes, a recruitment poster, to post on the square's bulletin board. This way everyone in the city will know. Many will come. Let's do this."

"The copy shop is out the door, turn right at the crossroads, and go forward two or three hundred meters. The old master there is kind," the owner kindly reminded.

"Good." Noah finished the rest of his drink, left a silver coin on the table, and departed.

"I feel a bit dizzy," Gladius said.

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