Rumors (3)
“How… how did you know?”
The man among the two refugees spoke up. He looked to be around thirty, with a scruffy beard.
Dalen replied nonchalantly, “Rumors usually travel faster than people.”
Grrr.
Just then, the man’s stomach growled loudly. Embarrassed by the noise, he closed his mouth, cutting off whatever he was about to say.
Dalen chuckled softly. He reached into his backpack beside the blanket and pulled out some jerky and dry bread. “You must be hungry after such a long journey. Here, have some.”
The two refugees hesitated for a moment, but only for a moment. With their heads bowed, they accepted the food and began devouring it as if they hadn’t eaten in days.
In truth, dry bread and tough jerky aren’t exactly easy to eat in a hurry. Yet, they ate ravenously, as if they were starving.
Dalen watched them for a while, then handed them a leather canteen. “If you head down this road for about four days, you’ll reach a city called Revivach. If you need work, you can find it there. Plenty of wealthy merchants have gathered recently, so you shouldn’t have trouble making a living.”
“Thank you. Really, thank you,” the bearded man said, his cheeks stuffed with bread, his eyes brimming with gratitude.
The woman, having quenched her thirst with the canteen, spoke up. “Is there any way we can repay you? We don’t have much to offer right now…”
“I don’t expect anything in return, so don’t worry about it,” Dalen said, poking the campfire with a long stick. “But if you insist, you could tell me more about those rumors of the dead rising from their graves. There’s nothing like a good story from a traveler to pass the night.”
“Of course. Thank you,” the woman said, slowly chewing on a piece of jerky as she began her tale.
“Rumors started circulating in the village some time ago. They said an ancient demon had been released from its seal and was descending upon the northern empire.”
“A demon, you say?”
She nodded. “At first, it was just cultists. They appeared out of nowhere, shouting in the village square about the end times and preparing an altar for the demon’s arrival. No matter how many times the village youths chased them away, they’d return the next day.”
“They were a real nuisance, those guys. Ugh!” The bearded man shuddered, having filled his stomach enough to put down the bread and jerky. The woman frowned in agreement.
Not all cultists formed large organizations like the Apostles of Reversion. Most so-called cultists were just beggars claiming divine revelations, causing disturbances in village squares or at city gates. They were usually ragged madmen with matted hair, sometimes mixed with a few con artists. Even if you chased them away, they’d return, shouting about some unknown god’s message, making them as persistent as cockroaches to the villagers.
‘A demon rumor, huh? Seems a bit early. It’s a common event around the mid-game,’ Dalen mused, stroking his chin.
As the game progresses into the mid-phase, monsters become more rampant, and the continent is shrouded in the threat of war. Without Dalen’s past efforts, even the labyrinth city would have been in chaos within a few years. The Apostles of Reversion would have overrun the Bronze District, and demons wielding holy swords and hordes of giant gnolls would have roamed the first floor of the labyrinth.
In such a scenario, rumors of demons would be a minor event, perhaps just a small side quest in a remote town or village.
‘But things are a bit different now.’
Despite the various disturbances occurring everywhere, the continent’s situation was still far from reaching the mid-phase. Therefore, rumors of demons at this point were quite unusual. Especially when it wasn’t just rumors—necromancers and undead had appeared.
“At first, everyone thought it was just nonsense, but then things changed. At night, the dead began rising from their graves,” the woman said, nervously biting her nails. The bearded man patted her reassuringly and continued the story.
“Before we left, we heard another rumor. They said a demon was sealed in a cave in the mountains, and necromancers were performing a ritual to break the seal. A demon, they said. We couldn’t stay any longer, so my wife and I fled.”
“You’ve been through a lot,” Dalen said.
The bearded man gave a small, weary smile.
Dalen added more logs to the fire and asked, “Do you know what kind of demon is supposed to be sealed?”
The man thought for a moment before answering, “They called it the Immortal Demon.”
The next day, as they rode south with their companions, Dalen kept replaying the conversation from the night before in his mind.
‘The Immortal Demon. Yes, the village of Rengleton in the northern empire. The cultists and the undead—all signs pointed to the Immortal Demon.’
Why hadn’t he realized it sooner? But then again, sifting through thousands of events and quests in his memory to find the right answer wasn’t easy.
Determined to raise his intelligence stat, which had become his lowest, Dalen chewed on some jerky.
‘If things go this way, I might end up facing the most annoying foe in this game.’
The Immortal Demon. It was, quite literally, an undying demon. Of course, demons were generally beyond the realm of mortals. Unlike humans, they didn’t age or succumb to illness. But the Immortal Demon was different. Its “immortality” meant it couldn’t be killed, no matter what.
‘Even when the Sword Saint used one of his secret techniques to shred it, and the witch’s spells and the knight commander’s holy power were combined, it still didn’t die.’
Recalling a past encounter, Dalen shook his head. The demon’s combat prowess wasn’t particularly overwhelming, not by demon standards, or even by regular monster standards. Without its immortality, it was about as strong as the gnoll warlord Varguf he had defeated before.
Yet, its undying nature meant that if you got entangled with it, that playthrough was as good as ruined. With a demon cursing you across the continent, a proper fight was impossible.
‘To avoid its territory, I’d have to take a long detour… unless…’
An idea suddenly struck Dalen. He quickly opened his status window.
――――――――
Name: Dalen
Level: 13
[Strength: 32] [Dexterity: 21] [Stamina: 28]
[Senses: 20] [Intelligence: 19] [Magic: 20]
Skills: Dehama’s Armor Combat (D), Night Vision (E), Dragonblood Regeneration Factor (C), Leap (E), Flame Arrow (D), Rapid Freeze (D), Laphantella’s Crushing Sword (C), Hegaleus’s Rain of Fire (C), Shooting Lightning (D), Curse Blocker’s Seal (D)
――――――――
The letters appeared before him, a stark contrast to when he first entered the labyrinth city. It seemed like just yesterday he acquired his first skill in a shabby inn in the back alleys, and now his status window was filled with ten skills.
His stats had increased by over 50 points in total. Except for intelligence, all his stats were now in the twenties. Eating one of the two mandrakes he found in the forest had boosted his stamina and magic by one each.
Unfortunately, these kinds of elixirs only raised stats once per type. If not for that limitation, Dalen would have scoured the Revivach forest thoroughly, even if it meant collapsing from the dragonblood’s aftermath on the day he defeated the witch.
‘Anyway, this should be enough. The things I gained from defeating the witch have filled in the gaps.’
The idea quickly solidified into a plan. Dalen assessed the possibilities as he stared at his status window.
Just then, Lucia spoke to him. “Are you thinking about what the refugees said?”
Her words hit the mark unexpectedly. Dalen scratched his nose in silence.
Lucia continued, gazing at the distant horizon. “They warned us about the inn. Should we turn back?”
Ah, so that’s what she meant. The refugee couple had indeed mentioned that when they parted ways in the morning. They advised caution regarding an inn along the way, though they seemed reluctant to elaborate further.
Dalen shrugged. “The inn is on a path through a small forest. Turning back would take twice as long. On the other hand, many refugees must have passed through, so it could be a good place to gather information about the undead. Besides…”
Parn looks quite exhausted. He added in a low voice.
Lucia glanced back slightly. Parn was dozing off in the saddle. Five days of camping and unfamiliar horseback riding had steadily drained the boy’s energy.
Despite his admirable efforts to hide it, this kind of fatigue, if ignored, could lead to a bigger mishap.
“You should take a full day to rest,” Lucia suggested, slowing her horse slightly to ride alongside the boy’s.
“Uh…!”
Sensing something approaching, the boy’s eyes snapped open.
As soon as he regained his senses, Paren quickly scanned his surroundings, alert and cautious.
It was clear he was diligently following the advice Lucia had given him during their recent lessons in horseback riding and swordsmanship.
“He’s got potential,” Dalen chuckled softly.
The group arrived at an inn late that evening.
The road they traveled cut through a nameless forest, and the inn was nestled on the right side of the path.
“Wow, it’s huge…” Paren exclaimed softly, a rare glimpse of childlike wonder on his face.
The inn, resembling a grand mansion in the middle of the secluded woods, seemed to captivate the boy’s imagination.
“It’s because we’re near the border,” Lucia explained calmly beside him. “There are many merchants passing through. Once you cross the border, there’s a village, so getting supplies is easy.”
The inn was four stories tall. The first floor served as both a tavern and a general store for travelers, while the upper floors were all guest rooms.
Considering the frequent visits from merchants, a large stable stood next to the building, already filled with wagons and horses.
However, there seemed to be no staff around to guide them.
As they led their horses to the stable, Lucia leaned in and whispered to Dalen.
“Dalen, something feels off.”
“What do you mean?”
“I sense a faint trace of dark magic.”
Dalen nodded in agreement.
“I feel it too.”
There was an unsettling atmosphere, and the faint scent lingering in the air was one a seasoned warrior like him couldn’t easily ignore.
“It smells like blood.”