Chapter 99: The Old Investigator

Dressing in a modest brown shirt, Aron exited the tent with Pethra and Freya following closely behind.

Feeling fatigued, Raum opted to remain in the tent alongside the slumbering Aurora. Truth be told, he was reluctant to encounter humans in his new human form. The whole experience felt peculiar as he grappled with the oddity of being treated as just another human.

The camp buzzed with activity as people diligently attended to the needs of the surviving villagers. However, the benevolence and assistance from the caravan seemed somewhat restricted and dubious.

Aron spotted the surviving villagers gathered on a specific spot isolated, distinct from the rest of the camp. Furthermore, individuals with variant armors and weapons—likely members of an adventuring or mercenary group—surrounded the place, guarding them; but Aron clearly saw the caravan's intention.

'They seem more like prisoners than poor people seeking a helping hand,' Aron pondered, narrowing his eyes.

Pethra, noticing his gaze, approached and whispered in his ear. "The investigator ordered close monitoring of the survivors. After discovering the ritual room, he suspects that the village elder wasn't acting alone and had assistance."

Aron's expression remained unreadable as he absorbed Pethra's information. He recognized the necessity for caution, especially considering they had slept within that house, and Aron wasn't able to sense anything or read past Darion. The old man was a master in acting, fooling everyone for years without one noticing.

'Tsk, I hate being played like a fool,'

Aron clicked his tongue in frustration but composed himself, continuing his walk toward the leader's tent.

As they proceeded, Aron and the girls noticed the eyes of the camp inhabitants following them – some with curiosity and envy, others with awe and admiration.

Understating why, Aron chuckled inwardly. 'Words travel fast.'

Upon reaching the leader's tent, Aron observed the guards stationed outside, adorned in plate armor with the distinct guild emblem – a brown banner featuring a central sword. The guards briefly assessed Aron before granting him entry.

Inside was one of the widest and most luxurious tents one could ever find in a makeshift camp. A semicircular table took center stage, surrounded by an assortment of chairs. Maps and documents adorned its surface, outlining the current state of Oakridge and its surroundings.

Surveying the tent, Aron noticed a familiar red-haired woman engaged in conversation with a dark-brown-skinned man with large honey-colored eyes.

The man wore a loose-fitting white garment. The fabric was a light, breathable material well-suited for warmer climates, perhaps a blend of cotton or linen. On top of it, he wore a bronze chest piece adorned with intricate patterns of decorations. On his belt hung a curved, single-edged sword with the same complicated yet beautiful patterns—A Scimitar.

The man noticed Aron's presence, grinned, and motioned for the red-haired woman to turn around. The red-haired woman's eyes widened momentarily, unable to conceal the brilliance and the broad, warm smile on her face.

Aron approached the two calmly. "It's a pleasure to see you again, Cila. What brings you here?"

Pethra and Freya squinted, closely inspecting the woman.

'So this is Cila'

They had encountered her before, and she had even assisted with potions and bandages for Aron. However, for some reason, Cila had neglected to share her name with the girls.

Cila momentarily forgot her surroundings, approached Aron, and delicately rested her hand on his chest. "I was concerned about you—" Upon seeing the smirk on his face, she snapped quickly, withdrawing her hand.

"Cough... I mean... The guild... Ahem. Yes, the guild sent me as an assistant in this investigation, and since I'm the one who approved this quest, I thought, why not?"

'Yeah right'

The redness in her cheeks, rapid speech, and avoidance of eye contact did little to convince the other four individuals in the tent of her words.

Pethra scrutinized the woman from head to toe before her gaze settled on a specific area.

'Damn! Life is still not fair.'

Looking at her own newly developed assets, Pethra harbored some hopes for the future.

Aron couldn't help but chuckle at Cila's attempt to mask her true intentions. Deciding to assist her a bit, he gestured towards the girls. "These are my companions, Pethra and Freya."

Cila gave a polite nod, acknowledging the introduction. "I apologize for not introducing myself earlier. My name is Cila, and I work in the guild."

Pethra placed a hand on her chin, recalling, "Hey, aren't you the popular receptionist in the guild?"

Cila tilted her head, puzzled. "Popular? Really?"

Pethra nodded, "Yeah! You're very popular. The men in my previous party liked to wait for your working hours to accept a quest just to get a chance to talk to you."

Cila's mood instantly dropped, and her face darkened. "I see…that's not a new thing, I've grown accustomed to it."

Pethra advanced, reaching out to place a comforting hand on Cila's shoulder. "You went through a lot."

Cila forced a small smile, appreciating Pethra's attempt at comfort. "Thank you, Pethra. It's part of the job, I suppose."

"Aaa! I should apologize too," Aron interjected, raising his hand suddenly.

"Why?" Cila inquired, puzzled, unable to recall any action from Aron warranting an apology.

"I did that too. Coming for a quest in your working hours."

""You're different"" the three women exclaimed simultaneously.

Flashing a smirk, Aron playfully asked, "Oh! Different? How?"

"Well, you're—" Cila caught herself, realizing she almost divulged something personal. Observing his smirk, she narrowed her eyes, asserting 'Not falling for that trick again.'

Aron chuckled, appreciating Cila's quick recovery. "Well, let's focus on the task at hand. Could you introduce your friend here?"

The man stood silently, smiling at the group's interaction. He maintained the courtesy not to intrude, understanding they hadn't overlooked him.

Remembering the man, Cila snapped, putting on her cold professional face. "I apologize."

The man placed a hand over his heart, bowing slightly. "Captain Rihad from the Golden Sands of Ishtal."

"Captain Rihad leads this trading caravan," Cila supplemented.

Aron, comprehending this information, nodded respectfully to Captain Rihad. "Good to meet you, Captain. I'm Aron, and these are my companions, Pethra and Freya."

Captain Rihad extended a hand, and Aron shook it firmly. "The pleasure is mine."

Aron then turned to Cila, inquiring, "So where is this investigation? I want to have a word with him." Before Cila could respond…

"Here!" an unfamiliar voice emanated from behind Aron.

"!!!" Aron's senses heightened, and he swiftly leaped forward, summoning Python.

"Hmm?... excellent reaction, but you're still slow."

Examining the source of the voice, an elderly man stood between Pethra and Freya. Gray hair and a lengthy beard that could put the dwarves to shame, a brown mage robe adorned with golden details, and around his belt was a metal chain with round rings, each ring bearing a distinct talisman or card.

"Stop doing that, you old senile," Cila scolded the elderly man.

The old man chuckled, stroking his long gray beard. "You don't understand, young Cila…at my age, small things like this bring joy to my old bones."

Aron narrowed his eyes, scanning the old man. 'I didn't sense his presence at all,' he pondered.

Approaching, the old man extended his hand. "Magus Lorcan Emberwise, Chief Librarian, scholar, and researcher of the mercenary guild."

Aron, still cautious, shook the old man's hand. "Aron."

Magus Lorcan nodded. "Good to meet you. Now, onto business." He gestured for everyone to take a seat at the table. "Explain everything from start to finish."

"Everything? Are you sure? This would take some time."

"Son, I have nothing but time," Lorcan stated, placing an old book on the table.

"Alright"

…

Surprisingly, it took little time to elucidate everything to the old magus, just over 30 minutes.

Aron shared everything while keeping some details hidden, particularly Aurora's existence. He understood that vampires were not readily accepted, judging by Pethra and Freya's reactions.

Raum's transformation and his own were also kept undisclosed. Other than that, he provided a comprehensive account, with Pethra and Freya contributing additional details for clarity.

"I see…" Magus Lorcan stroked his beard, pondering. "The Flesh Lord and the Obsidian Clan, of course."

"Would you mind elaborating?" Aron inquired.

Magus Lorcan leaned back, his piercing blue gaze fixed on Aron. "The Flesh Lord is an ancient entity, from the abyss or what's commonly known as Oblivion. A being of darkness and malevolence. The Obsidian's are a Clan of demons devoted to this entity."

Snapping his fingers, another old book materialized on the table. Lorcan opened it, revealing an image of a twisted being with multiple hands and heads. "They conduct experiments on other creatures, seeking the perfect combination of limbs, organs, and traits for their ultimate creation."

Observing the unsettling image, Aron and the girls recollected the twisted creatures in the dungeon. Cila and Rihad, however, found the image discomforting.

"And to think one of them was here, in a dungeon."

Magus Lorcan then turned to Freya, seeking confirmation. "You mentioned that the creatures exploded in a dark liquid during the fight?"

Freya nodded. "Yes, they began to grow rapidly before exploding. I took down the larger one."

"Strange?" he remarked.

"What do you mean?" Cila asked.

"Based on the description, the creature is known as The Unwanted, a creature with the ability to create other monsters. One of them was that bird-like thing known as the collector." Lorcan paused, collecting his thoughts. "A specific ritual is needed to summon this creature."

"The blood of the foe and the blood of the kin," Pethra suddenly added.

"Exactly. The village elder Darion was tricked by the demon to help him with the ritual. The demon performed everything correctly; however, the explosion into black liquid indicates that the Lord of Flesh or the abyssal guards rejected the blood offering."

Aron, contemplating for a moment, inquired from the old man, "What kind of blood is needed?"

"Since the vessel was a human killed by goblins, the blood must be from humans and goblins."

"Ah! I get it now"

"Care to share?" The old man couldn't hide his eagerness.

Aron smirked, but he explained nevertheless, "You mentioned human blood, and Freya here isn't human; she's a werewolf."

Opening his eyes wide, Magus Lorcan quickly comprehended the reason for the sacrifice's rejection. "Indeed, different blood would cause that."

Standing up, Lorcan snapped his fingers, making the books disappear. Confronting the assembly, he expressed,"Thank you for dealing with that monster. With the information and the monster samples, I should be able to track that demon from now on."

Arching an eyebrow, Aron inquired, "What do you mean by tracking the demon? I killed him"

Lorcan regarded Aron with an unusual gaze. "Can you wield Holy magic?"

"No"

"Then the demon is not dead, merely banished. Only Holy magic or a force capable of harming the soul can permanently kill a demon for good"

'My flames can harm the souls' Aron thought

Captain Rihad interjected with a frown, "So, he didn't truly get rid of it? What's to stop it from coming back?"

"Precisely. However, with the remnants of mana on his minions, I should be adept at tracing him the moment he treads into the realm of the living again."

Cila stood, graciously bowing to the elderly man. "Kindly do so, Master Lorcan. We wish to avert a recurrence of the events transpired here."

"I shall," the old man affirmed, turning and strolling toward the exit.

"Gratitude for your assistance, Captain Rihad. The guild shall duly compensate you in the future."

Rihad waved off the acknowledgment. "No necessity for that; it was my obligation."

"Thank you"

Hand over heart, Rihad expressed, "May the golden sands bestow blessings upon your path."

Cila turned to Aron with a slight smile. "Ready to journey back home?"

Rising, Aron responded, "Of course"

…

In an unknown place beneath a crimson sky. A portal suddenly opened up.

From the inside emerged a gray-looking figure with pink hair and two horns.

He descended violently, coughing up blood.

"Cough…Cough…That took a long time"

The figure was Xenodrake Casper Obsidian. The Demon of Flesh and Despair

As Magus Lorcan said, the demon was banished or resurrected in hell. Nevertheless, this time, the process endured longer than customary.

"Damn…cough. A Dragon! A living dragon disguised as a human." Despite grievous wounds, the demon fixated solely on discovering Aron's identity.

 "Just wait for me, my precious specimen, when I'm summoned again, I'll have you in my laboratory—" He ceased, detecting an anomaly.

His wounds failed to regenerate, an unusual circumstance since a demon inherently absorbs negativity in hell to mend injuries. Yet, Xenodrake's condition worsened.

He raised his head, endeavoring to survey the surroundings, and the moment he did, he yearned it was a dream.

A vast sea of horrifying eldritch entities stared at him. Recognizing some of them.

A profound terror seized his heart.

"This…isn't hell."

ROAR!!!

Charging at him, the demon was paralyzed with shock.

"This…This is…OBLIVION…AHHH!"

A colossal worm-like monster swallowed him as a whole.