Rumors (4)
In a remote inn along a trade route like this, the scent of blood wasn’t entirely unusual.
Many inns raised their own pigs or chickens to cut costs and serve fresh meat on the table.
But this wasn’t the smell of animal or monster blood.
Dalen’s extraordinary sense of smell could distinctly differentiate between human and beast blood.
And this scent was unmistakably human.
It was fresh, too.
“Is something wrong?”
Sensing the tension between the two, Paren asked with a hint of anxiety.
Dalen raised an eyebrow at the unexpected question, then chuckled softly, ruffling the boy’s hair.
“Nothing to worry about. Just know you’re going to get a good rest here tonight.”
They tied their horses in the stable, half-filled with carts and other steeds, and naturally made their way into the inn.
As soon as they entered the tavern on the first floor, the innkeeper greeted them warmly from behind the counter.
“Welcome! Are there three of you?”
“Yes.”
“Ah, you must be weary from your travels! Our food is always warm, and our rooms are cozy. I assume the lady will want her own room, so shall I prepare two rooms and dinner for three?”
The innkeeper’s hearty welcome was met with a gentle shake of the head from Lucia, who smiled politely.
“I’m fine, thank you. Today is a fasting day for me. I’ll head straight to my room.”
The innkeeper, still smiling warmly, handed her a key.
“Very well. Room 201 on the second floor is yours. A fasting day, you say?”
“Yes. Fasting once a month is part of a paladin’s discipline. Physical hunger nourishes the soul and benefits both body and mind.”
Her gentle smile and words gave her the air of a devout priest rather than a paladin.
Dalen chuckled inwardly at the sight.
How could anyone think of her as a foul-mouthed paladin when she looked like this?
“Ah, a paladin. We don’t often see guests like you.”
Despite his idle thoughts, Dalen didn’t miss the slight tremor in the innkeeper’s shoulders at the mention of a paladin.
The innkeeper nodded stiffly, his expression a bit strained. He continued.
“Then, two rooms and dinner for two it is. Would you like me to prepare a bath? We usually heat the water around this time for our guests.”
“Please do.”
Lucia nodded lightly and headed for the stairs.
Before ascending, she glanced back at Dalen, giving him a playful wink before disappearing.
She would handle her task upstairs.
Now, the first floor was Dalen’s stage.
Dalen and Paren took a seat at a random table. Their meal arrived quickly.
Two large bowls of stew and a mug of beer for Dalen.
He downed the beer in one go and plunged his spoon into the stew.
As he took a bite, he glanced around the tavern and remarked casually.
“Not a soul in sight. Business not doing well these days?”
“Guests have been scarce for the past month. Could be the rumors of monsters and bandits. Did you encounter any trouble on your way here?”
“Not really.”
Dalen tapped his fingers on the table, continuing.
“I heard stories about dead bodies walking around a nearby village.”
”…Nonsense. I’ve been running this place for ten years and never heard such tales.”
“Is that so?”
Dalen chuckled softly.
Didn’t expect him to play dumb so convincingly.
Paren, who had been listening quietly, tilted his head and asked.
“Are you from the Empire, by any chance?”
“Hmm?”
The innkeeper turned his head. The boy smiled innocently.
“I’m from the Empire too. I learned that the accent of the common language is slightly different between the Empire and the City Alliance. It’s because we learn Imperial language from a young age.”
”…Ah, yes. That’s right. I spent my childhood in the Empire. Times were tough, so I settled here. That was ten years ago.”
The innkeeper stammered slightly.
Paren tilted his head again.
“Wow, and you still have the Imperial accent. That’s fascinating. People told me mine disappeared in less than a year.”
The boy’s innocent smile lingered as the innkeeper fell silent, seemingly flustered.
Noticing the innkeeper’s furtive glances at Dalen, he smirked.
‘Teach him one thing, and he learns ten more.’
Instead of his usual blunt approach, Dalen had engaged in small talk to expose the innkeeper’s suspicious nature for Paren’s benefit.
Given the boy’s sharpness, Dalen hoped he would learn something from their conversation with the suspicious innkeeper.
And Paren didn’t disappoint.
He exceeded expectations, quickly picking up on the innkeeper’s oddities.
He even went a step further, subtly questioning the innkeeper’s accent.
‘There’s nothing more to teach him.’
Dalen discreetly reached for his waist. Just then—
Crash!
A loud noise erupted from upstairs, followed by a commotion on the landing.
“Ugh… monster…”
Four burly men tumbled down the stairs, bruised and half-conscious, groaning in pain.
Lucia followed them down, her hair damp, dressed in simple clothes without her armor.
Dalen glanced at the fallen men and asked.
“Is that all of them upstairs?”
Lucia nodded.
“These scumbags attacked the moment I disarmed and got into the bath.”
Silence fell over the tavern.
The innkeeper looked flustered.
Dalen leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, and fixed his gaze on the innkeeper.
“Care to explain yourself?”
Before the words were fully out, the innkeeper’s face transformed.
Not just his expression—his entire face twisted into a demonic visage as he chanted a spell in a harsh, rapid tone.
“Temom—Sir!”
Bang!
As soon as the spell was cast, the basement door burst open.
Dozens of people poured out.
Groans and wails filled the air.
They weren’t living humans.
Merchants, their employees, the mercenaries who had guarded them.
Even the original innkeeper, a portly man, and the staff who worked here.
About thirty in total, all turned into walking corpses.
Judging by the number of ownerless carts in the stable, it seemed everyone here had been murdered by the necromancer posing as the innkeeper.
Groans and wails echoed as the undead blocked the exits.
They began closing in on the three of them.
Dalen rose slowly from his seat, uncrossing his arms and hooking his fingers into his belt.
He watched the undead for a moment before speaking.
“They’re sluggish. The real one must be hiding in the kitchen. Let’s clean up here and rescue the people trapped in the basement. I’ll deal with the spellcaster hiding in the kitchen.”
“Understood.”
Lucia radiated light from her entire body.
At that moment, Dalen’s hand blurred as it reached for his belt. The necromancer hastily chanted another spell.
“Temom—urk!”
The spell was cut short as an axe handle protruded from the necromancer’s demonic face.
Dalen wasted no time, moving past him and charging through the kitchen door behind the counter.
Crash!
The old wooden door shattered into pieces.
Immediately, his senses screamed a warning. Dalen halted in his tracks.
Whoosh—
Black flames engulfed the area. Invisible magical blades sliced through the air, aiming for his legs.
The air grew heavy, pressing down on him, while curses tangled around him, slowing his movements.
It was a trap.
A dark magic trap designed to halt intruders and turn them into mincemeat.
In the midst of it all, Dalen grinned fiercely.
‘As expected. This one’s the real deal.’
A dark sorcerer allied with the necromancer.
And the desperate refugees following them.
Detecting their presence had never been difficult.
Dalen’s extraordinary senses could even count the number of survivors trapped in the basement from outside the inn.
Yet, despite knowing their hiding spots, he hadn’t immediately drawn his axe and charged in for two reasons.
The first reason was that such senseless slaughter wouldn’t teach a young boy anything.
The second reason was to find out who the real mastermind was between the dark sorcerer and the necromancer.
‘They’re definitely connected to the immortal demon. They must know something the refugee couple didn’t tell us.’
Judging by the clumsy results of the necromancer’s summoning, it was clear he wasn’t the one in charge.
The audacity to occupy an inn at a major crossroads near the border suggested a level of skill beyond the ordinary.
And the traps set in the kitchen made it obvious that the mastermind was the dark sorcerer.
Traps so powerful that even someone like Daelon would be in danger.
These were spells that a half-baked dark sorcerer from the woods of Revivach couldn’t possibly replicate.
Ssshhh—!
His thoughts raced in an instant.
But in that fleeting moment, a magical blade had already reached Daelon’s ankle.
Daelon didn’t dodge.
Nor did he counter with any special skill.
All he did was draw the dagger from his belt.
With a swift downward slash, he cut through the oncoming magic.
Crash!
The intertwined blades shattered the pressure bearing down from above.
Fwoosh!
Black flames caught in the trajectory fizzled out, and the magical blade aiming for his ankle dissipated.
The curse that tried to bind his limbs vanished.
The faint glow of the curse-breaking seal nullified the curse before he even drew his spell-slaying dagger.
“What, what…?”
The dark sorcerer, who had just broken her concealment spell to finish off the intruder, was left speechless as her plans unraveled.
Seeing her retreat in shock, Daelon laughed fiercely.
“Didn’t expect to see you here.”
He had suspected it when he saw the stew made with human flesh.
One of the notorious dark sorcerers he knew had a habit of such gruesome acts.
The black-haired woman, raising her staff with startled eyes, was none other than Luka Chella, the cannibal sorceress who was destined to become the closest aide to the Witch of Ashes.
[Discovered the remains of the sage turned into stew.]
Confirming the notification of a past cycle where he had been devoured, Daelon wasted no time in releasing the dagger from his hand.
Whoosh—!
The spell-slaying dagger flew with a piercing sound, shattering the triple-layered barrier crafted by the skilled dark sorcerer.
“Enaksa—aaah!”
Its final destination was near the sorcerer’s collarbone.
The dagger tore through her flesh and muscle, disrupting the spell she was casting.
“Why, why isn’t the spell…!”
The dark sorcerer cried out, unable to hide her confusion.
With all her magical senses thrown into disarray, there was nothing a spellcaster like her could do.
Daelon reached out with a rough grip, seizing the jaw and mouth that had devoured dozens of people.
It was time to interrogate the spellcaster.