The next day.
July 28. Weather: overcast.
There wasn't even a hint of sunlight early in the morning. A thin white mist hung in the air, almost like being deep in the mountains. Still, the air was fairly fresh.
Luke didn't sleep in today. At the crack of dawn, he climbed out of bed.
Staring up at the ceiling, he realized this was probably the last time he'd be looking at it.
Once he was a bit more awake, he silently thought, "Sign in."
[Congratulations, Host has obtained Common Skill: Returning Wind, Swaying Willows]
[Congratulations, Host has obtained Peerless Treasure: Three-Hundred-Year Applejack]
[System rewards have been stored in the inventory. Host may check at any time.]
[Detected learnable skill—Returning Wind, Swaying Willows LV3 (some mastery). Learn?]
As the two system prompts sounded, Luke thought, "Learn."
The moment the thought fell, a flood of information about Returning Wind, Swaying Willows poured into Luke's mind.
[Skill—Returning Wind, Swaying Willows: learned successfully.]
[Detected: This skill is a movement-type common skill. Once raised to LV6, it will be consolidated into the advanced movement skill Godspeed Hundred Forms, increasing Godspeed Hundred Forms by one level.]
Two more prompts followed.
Luke finished digesting the skill information and opened his eyes.
This was a movement technique—when used, your body flowed like willow branches swaying in the wind.
He glanced at the system notes and nodded in satisfaction.
Not bad.
Right now, if he wanted to level up the advanced skills he already had, he needed high-tier skill upgrade cards.
But those seemed to have a pretty low drop rate from daily sign-ins.
And he had too many skills that needed leveling—decision paralysis would cry on the spot.
So being able to level up Godspeed Hundred Forms through leveling Returning Wind, Swaying Willows was genuinely nice.
Then he looked at the second reward, and his eyes lit up.
He immediately pulled it from his inventory.
A tiny little jug—yet inside was priceless applejack.
According to the system, drinking it would massively improve his aptitude.
It was still early, and Luke didn't overthink it. He popped the stopper, and a rich aroma burst out instantly.
He couldn't wait—he took a sip.
The moment it hit his tongue, color rose in his face at a visible speed.
An intense, rare fragrance spread through his mouth. The quality was far better than the liquor he brewed himself.
The next second, Luke felt his body heating up. A strange sensation bloomed through every corner of him—warm and soothing, like every part of him had sunk into comfort.
[Congratulations, Host aptitude +2]
[Congratulations, Host aptitude +2]
The system notifications kept flashing.
The Smoky Earl Grey Tea he drank regularly, along with the rare fruits he'd collected, also increased aptitude.
But after consuming so many, the effect had gradually weakened to the point it was barely noticeable.
Now, that long-lost feeling of aptitude surging upward returned again.
[Congratulations, Host aptitude has advanced to One-in-a-Thousand]
With that prompt, Luke's aptitude crossed the 50 mark—and it kept climbing.
It finally stopped at 59.
The jug of applejack was also finished—perfectly timed.
The lingering warmth was still there, but his aptitude didn't rise any further.
Of course, Luke didn't place that much importance on aptitude anyway.
It wasn't like improving his aptitude would magically make him start training.
Training? Impossible. Not in this lifetime.
After finishing the applejack, his head felt a bit dizzy, and he wanted to sleep again.
His alcohol tolerance was usually excellent, but the strength of that applejack still hit him hard.
So Luke lay back down for another hour. Once the sky brightened a little outside, he finally got up.
He packed his things, made breakfast, and prepared to set off for the capital.
He'd originally planned to wait for Vayne to wake up before leaving.
But his sleeping draught might've been a bit too strong. Even after breakfast, there was still no sign of her waking—she was sleeping deeply, peaceful as anything.
No clue when she'd wake up.
So Luke simply had Frey move her into the carriage. They would depart first and deal with it later.
At the city gate.
Cithria was there, along with Garen—who was temporarily stuck in Edessa handling tasks and couldn't leave.
After saying their goodbyes, Luke didn't linger. It wasn't like they'd never meet again—there would be plenty of chances in the future.
And with that, the carriage rolled straight toward the capital.
Along the way, Luke actually rode on horseback for once, his body swaying gently with the rhythm as he studied the passing scenery.
The overcast morning air was especially damp, and the temperature was pleasantly cool.
Noticing the grass and leaves around them beginning to yellow, Luke realized autumn had arrived.
In the blink of an eye, he'd been in this world for more than four months.
Beside him, Frey rode as well. Hearing no movement from inside the carriage, worry crept onto her face, and she couldn't help asking,
"Your Highness… how much did you give her?"
"Relax," Luke answered casually. "Definitely not a lethal dose."
Frey fell silent.
Why did that somehow feel even less reassuring?
Still… she couldn't deny the draught was strong.
By now, Vayne had been asleep for over ten hours.
Frey thought about how hard the girl had pushed herself on the road for so long. If she could finally sleep well for once, maybe that was a good thing.
So Frey didn't say anything more.
After they traveled for a while…
A soft, sleepy sound finally came from inside the carriage—like the drowsy whimper of a kitten.
The next second, feeling the carriage rocking—
Vayne's eyes snapped open.
Her awareness surged back, and the first thing in her gaze was pure vigilance.
Staring at the familiar-yet-unfamiliar carriage interior, confusion surfaced in her eyes.
Where am I…?
Then memory caught up.
She rubbed her temples, still foggy from sleep. She remembered lying down in that rocking chair last night—after that, everything was blank.
She lifted the curtain and looked outside, only to find the day had been bright for quite a while. She could even see Quinn riding nearby.
When the curtain lifted, Quinn looked over and gave her a small smile.
Vayne let the curtain fall again, her mind still sluggish.
She'd slept that long?
And she'd slept that deeply?
She usually slept four to six hours at most, and even then it was light sleep. Even if she wanted to sleep longer, she couldn't.
Most of the time, sleeping too long meant nightmares.
Thinking back to the steadiness and comfort of last night—and the lazy, loosened feeling still lingering in her body—
Vayne couldn't even remember the last time she'd slept this well.
"Vayne, are you awake?" her teacher's voice called from outside.
"Yeah," Vayne answered.
She couldn't help stretching, pushing that lingering laziness out of her muscles.
She finally felt like her strength had returned.
"You're awake? Then hurry up and get out of the carriage."
That irritating voice followed immediately.
Annoying first thing in the morning.
"Like I'm dying to stay in here," Vayne snorted, stepping outside.
They halted the group briefly, and Luke and Vayne swapped places.
Vayne rode while Luke returned to the carriage, sprawling out comfortably.
After riding for a stretch, Vayne returned to her usual state—cold and controlled.
That one long sleep left her feeling unusually energized.
She turned to Frey with a frown. "Teacher… what are we—"
Wasn't today supposed to be the day they separated from that guy in the carriage?
After splitting up, they were supposed to continue tracking the demon's trail.
So why were they still traveling with him?
She had the distinct feeling that while she slept, she'd missed something important.
Frey looked at her, expression more serious. "His Highness found a lead on that demon in the materials seized from the Shadow God cult."
Vayne froze, then immediately lit up. "That's great. What's the lead?"
"It seems she once tried recruiting followers northwest of Demacia's Uralus Mountains."
Seeing the revenge-flame ignite in Vayne's eyes, Frey's face turned heavier. "But I also discovered another problem."
Her teacher almost never looked this grim.
Vayne realized whatever came next was serious, so she braced herself and waited quietly.
But she still underestimated it.
"Vayne… I think we should put revenge on hold for now."
Frey looked her in the eye and said, "I found a dark curse inside you—the Heart-Eater Demon Seed."
Vayne went blank. Frey's words rattled through her mind, and she stared in disbelief. "Teacher… what are you saying?"
"That demon planted this curse inside you."
Frey continued, looking at Vayne's stunned face. "So compared to revenge, I'd rather—"
"No." Vayne cut her off instantly. The brief shock vanished, replaced by iron certainty—and a vengeance burning even hotter than before.
Her voice turned cold.
"If she planted a curse in me, then we kill her and it's solved."
Vayne's reaction was exactly what Frey expected.
Frey sighed. "Vayne, that demon isn't as easy to deal with as we thought. And your condition matters more right now."
"A demon is still a living thing," Vayne said stubbornly. "If it can be killed, it can die."
She didn't waver at all. "My body is fine. I don't feel anything wrong. Even if there is something wrong, I don't care. Nothing matters more than killing that demon."
She didn't understand the Heart-Eater Demon Seed at all.
But she was certain of one thing—her body felt perfectly fine.
And even if it wasn't, it wouldn't change her will.
Inside the carriage, Luke pulled the curtain back slightly—and watched like a spectator at a street show.
Any time the demon came up, Vayne changed.
Right now, too.
Her whole presence was saturated with the hunger for revenge.
Frey's eyes were full of worry. "Your problem isn't physical. It's mental. The demon seed has influenced you deeply."
Vayne stared at her. "But I feel great. Physically and mentally."
Frey sighed again. "You can't tell from the inside."
For some reason, irritation started boiling up in Vayne's chest.
Why did she wake up to hear about some demon seed?
Why had she never known before?
Why had Frey never told her?
Why say it today, of all days?
Why tell her to give up revenge?
The irritation piled higher and higher. Vayne's breathing grew heavier as she forced the words out.
"Teacher… how do you know? And why didn't you tell me earlier?"
Frey met her gaze, instinctively wanting to look away—but then steadied herself.
She had prepared for this. And she finally said it.
"Because… I used dark magic on you last night."
Vayne's expression stiffened as Frey continued.
"There's something I've hidden from you for a long time. I'm truly sorry. Before I met you… I was a dark witch."
"Weren't you a shaman?" Vayne asked dully.
As Frey spoke, it felt like someone was pounding a drum in Vayne's skull—boom, boom, boom—relentless.
"I was," Frey said, tightening her grip on the reins, guilt twisting into a strained smile. "Before I met you, I relied on dark power. I'm sorry… I should've told you sooner."
Boom.
It felt like lightning detonated inside Vayne's mind.
She stared at Frey's guilty face, her eyes and expression overwhelmed by shock.
A dark witch.
Frey—the person she respected most, the person she'd treated like a mother—had been a dark witch.
The kind of person Vayne hated most.
In an instant, a storm of emotions surged up.
Grief. Hurt. Confusion. Betrayal. Deception. Pain.
It felt like a knife drove into her heart and twisted, carving out a bloody hole that sent agony through her whole body.
Cold spread through her veins, as if she'd fallen into an ice pit.
That feeling—again.
The heart-ripping pain made her breathing heavier, harder, like her lungs couldn't fill properly. Her head turned into chaos—drumbeats, thunder, ringing, murmured voices that sounded like speech but didn't make sense.
Vayne felt like she was about to break.
Or maybe she already had.
It was like a string inside her snapped with a sharp, final twang.
Then—
A clean, bright ding.
Everything went silent.
All that remained was a long, relentless ringing in her ears.
It felt like she'd been cut off from the world.
The constant ringing made her face tighten with discomfort.
She hated darkness.
All darkness.
And she never could've imagined that question Luke had asked before would become her reality:
What if someone you love, someone you respect… chooses darkness, too?
She didn't want to think.
The second she tried, the pain multiplied.
Vayne leaned forward slightly.
Her body felt like it was sinking—sinking into an endless ocean, black all around, no sound, no light.
She couldn't breathe.
No matter how hard she struggled, no matter how desperately she swam upward, it did nothing.
She kept sinking.
She would sink forever, down into the deep.
Frey watched her, and because she'd experienced Vayne's pain firsthand last night, she understood exactly what the girl was enduring.
Aches of tenderness rose in her eyes.
"Vayne… are you okay?"
She reached out, trying to soothe her.
Smack.
Vayne slapped Frey's hand away.
When she looked up again, there wasn't a shred of emotion left in her eyes.
"I'm fine, Teacher. Thank you for telling me."
Her voice carried a colder edge than before.
That look made Frey feel like the Vayne in front of her was suddenly unfamiliar.
Frey's worry sharpened. "Vayne… maybe your emotions aren't entirely yours right now. The demon seed keeps influencing you.
"Let's pause revenge for now, okay? Let's find a way to remove it. The methods I taught you before were wrong. You shouldn't let revenge swallow you."
"No," Vayne said flatly. "The methods you taught me were good."
Her face stayed blank, icy and unapproachable. "Revenge gave me strength. I know exactly what I am. I don't have any problem."
Frey's voice grew urgent. "That's not your strength. It's the demon seed feeding you. It wants you to lose yourself. Vayne—please, clear your head."
"I am clearheaded." Vayne drew a slow breath, staring at Frey. "I will never lose myself. And if that demon seed really exists, then I'll use its power to kill that demon anyway."
Frey froze.
Staring at Vayne, she realized with a sinking dread that maybe confessing only now… was already too late.
This child was chasing power for revenge—exactly the way Frey once had.
Frey had believed that exposing the demon seed would lead them to a solution.
But Vayne didn't care where her strength came from.
She didn't care what she would lose for it.
As long as she could get revenge.
As long as she could kill that demon.
That was enough.
The unfamiliar way Vayne looked at her filled Frey with fear beneath the worry.
And then Vayne said the words Frey least wanted to hear.
"Teacher, you taught me well on this road. I'm grateful."
Vayne's hand clenched around the reins until her knuckles went pale. She wasn't truly calm—every word she forced out felt like being cut open from the inside.
But she couldn't face the reality that the teacher she loved most was a dark witch.
She couldn't imagine how she was supposed to accept it.
Right now, she only wanted to get away.
Still cold, she continued, "I'll finish the revenge on my own."
Frey's breath caught. "Vayne… what are you saying—"
A bad feeling surged. She reached out, trying to grab Vayne.
Smack.
Vayne slapped her hand away a second time.
The icy gaze she turned on Frey felt terrifyingly unfamiliar.
"We should go our separate ways," Vayne said. "You can go back to Freljord. And I don't want to see you again."
As she spoke, her eyes flicked toward the carriage window—
Luke was leaning there, watching like a shameless spectator, literally munching on a bag of popcorn.
Then Vayne stopped looking at Frey altogether. She cracked her whip and bolted away.
Hooves thundered—rapid, fading into the distance.
Frey stared after her, stunned and devastated, her rejected hand still hanging in the air.
Tears slid down from the corners of her eyes.
After chewing his popcorn for a while, Luke casually tossed the empty bag aside and said, "You're not going after her? Kids hit a rebellious phase all the time. One good beating usually fixes it."
His attempt at humor did absolutely nothing to warm the mood.
Frey turned her head and gave him a bitter smile. "Sorry, Your Highness."
Then she snapped her reins and rode off fast—heading the other direction.
She needed to be alone.
Quinn had watched the whole thing from nearby—watching them go from fine to arguing, then splitting and riding away in opposite directions.
For a moment, she didn't know what to say.
Finally, she looked at Luke. "Your Highness… should we chase them?"
"Chase what?" Luke said, sprawled back into the carriage and yawning. "That's a teacher-and-student mess. Don't stick your nose in."
He actually thought it was better for them to split now than to keep walking down that road together.
As a "seer," Luke knew what their original ending was supposed to look like.
Frey rode hard down the road.
If you looked closely, you could see tiny crystals of tears flicking through the air.
Her heart felt like someone had clenched it in a fist—pain, grief, regret.
If… if she'd spoken earlier.
If she'd told Vayne the truth sooner.
Maybe it wouldn't have ended like this.
She had never regretted taking Vayne in that day in the snow.
That child's presence had brought a beam of light into Frey's gray, ruined life.
Frey had selfishly used the child like medicine to soothe her own soul—without ever considering how Vayne felt.
In the beginning, she told Vayne that only by carving revenge into her bones—and using it as fuel—could she become stronger.
When Frey noticed Vayne's talent, she forced her own unfulfilled hopes onto her.
Day after day of brutal training, grinding down the young girl's heart and body—
Yet Frey had never once simply held her when she felt helpless, sad, or broken at night.
Back then, Frey believed strength was everything.
She ignored Vayne's feelings.
More than that—she simply never cared.
Day after day, Vayne's heart grew colder, and she truly made revenge into her entire world—exactly as Frey had told her.
But when Frey finally looked back and truly saw the scars inside that child…
It was already too late.
When she should have healed the child, she hadn't.
She had planted the wrong belief in her.
Maybe what made Vayne into what she was now wasn't the demon seed at all.
Maybe the true culprit…
Was Frey.
Evening fell as the sky dimmed toward night.
Vayne rode northwest at speed.
She didn't know how far she'd gone.
She only knew her mind had gone frighteningly quiet.
Grief, pain, sorrow—once she'd left Frey behind, those feelings vanished.
Maybe separating really was the right choice.
Even before today, a vague unease had been growing inside her.
She never understood why Frey knew so many cruel techniques of dark magic.
Now she did.
Her teacher was a dark witch.
Vayne's hand stayed clamped around the reins, just as it had been since she left. There was no emotion in her eyes. She didn't want to think about anything.
Rustle—
A black shadow burst from the roadside brush, like it had been waiting in ambush.
Vayne sensed danger instantly. She abandoned the horse and leapt, the impact throwing her into the dirt. She rolled several times through the dust.
When she rose again, she felt a sharp pain across her back.
But she didn't let it slow her.
A horse screamed in agony.
Vayne turned—
In the fading evening light, a beastlike humanoid crouched over the horse, tearing into it ravenously, chewing like it hadn't eaten in days.
Its body reeked with an aura Vayne despised. It was shaped like some kind of predator—wolf and tiger mixed—yet still carried traces of human features.
A shapeshifter.
Blood stench spread outward.
With a sharp hiss, Vayne raised her wrist crossbow and fired a blessed silver bolt straight at it.
The shapeshifter sensed the threat and dodged, dropping low like an animal, its dangerous gaze locking onto Vayne.
Then it roared and charged.
It was huge—nearly as big as the horse it had killed. When it opened its mouth, rows of blood-wet fangs glinted in the dark.
But Vayne's mind remained chillingly calm, without a ripple.
She slipped aside, avoided the charge, and fired two more blessed silver bolts.
The bolts buried into its body. It howled in pain as the silver burned through it—yet the pain only fed its rage, making it wilder.
If those claws touched Vayne even once, they'd carve deep, horrifying gashes into her flesh.
But attack after attack—Vayne dodged them all with effortless precision.
And the shapeshifter only accumulated more wounds.
Compared to her last fight with a shapeshifter, Vayne looked relaxed now.
Not just because she'd gained experience—
But because she'd grown stronger.
When the shapeshifter's next swipe cut only air, Vayne pivoted and drove a kick into it, slamming it face-first into the ground. Then she planted her foot on its chest and stomped down with everything she had.
Crack. Crack.
Bones snapped.
The shapeshifter screamed, thrashing, but it had no way to fight back anymore.
To Vayne, that scream sounded… pleasant.
She lifted her crossbow and aimed.
At that moment, the shapeshifter's form collapsed, revealing a man's face. He looked up with pleading eyes.
"Please… spare me, I—"
A cold bolt punched straight through his forehead, pinning his skull to the earth.
The man's eyes froze in shock as he died.
Vayne looked down at the corpse, utterly indifferent, with no interest in any last words.
And when her bolt pierced through the shapeshifter's head—
That familiar feeling returned.
Excitement slammed through her like a wave, colliding inside her ribs, flooding her with strength.
As she felt that power, Vayne's eyes slowly hardened.
Yes.
Separating was the right choice.
Frey had taught her well. Vayne knew how to hunt these dark creatures now.
From now on, she would walk this road alone.
She would finish her revenge alone.
Even without Frey at her side.
That power churned inside her. Vayne didn't know whether it came from the demon seed Frey described.
But it didn't matter.
If the demon really had left something inside her—
Then she would use it to kill the demon.
The demon would only regret ever giving her the strength to take revenge.
What Vayne didn't notice—what she couldn't notice—
Was that as she sank into the pleasure and thrill of gaining strength, her bond with Frey… was being quietly washed away.
Vayne looked back once at the dead horse, said nothing, and walked forward.
Before she reached the Uralus Mountains to the northwest, she needed to find a new way to travel.
Evening.
The carriage rolled onward in silence.
Luke lounged atop the carriage roof, letting the moving wind cool his face.
The entire day had been overcast.
Terrible weather.
Maybe because of that, his mood had been off too.
Quinn glanced up at Luke, then looked forward again.
Neither Vayne nor Frey had returned since leaving.
Given how badly they'd fought this morning…
Maybe they really had split for good.
Maybe they wouldn't come back at all.
Quinn sighed quietly.
She knew what it meant in Demacia for Frey to be a dark witch.
But after these days together, Quinn couldn't believe Frey was a bad person.
Still, Quinn also knew Vayne's hatred for darkness had been obvious from the very beginning—sharp and raw.
Those two had always been close.
But then Vayne learned that her teacher—the person she trusted most—was exactly what she hated.
That kind of impact would crush anyone.
Maybe those perfectly matched teacher and student…
Really would go their separate ways after today.
Quinn could see it. Luke definitely could too.
He kept saying he didn't care, but all day long, his eyes drifted toward the direction they'd left more times than Quinn could count.
He cared.
Maybe he was even hoping they'd come back and reconcile.
"Mmm—"
On the carriage roof, Luke sat up and stretched, rubbing his messy hair. Then he called out, "Yurna, pick up the pace toward the northwest."
"Yes, Your Highness."
Yurna's voice came promptly from the driver's seat.
Luke looked toward the northwest and sighed helplessly.
He'd already interfered this much. The way those two ended up today… he'd played a part in it.
So he might as well see it through to the end.
Three days passed in a blur.
August 2. Weather: cool. Night had fallen.
Northwest of the Uralus Mountains, the peaks crowded together—one ridge after another—like the mountains were hiding countless things in their folds.
Vayne rode along a mountain path.
When the light faded and darkness thickened, she dismounted and continued on foot.
She didn't know where the demon's trail truly was. Only that it was somewhere to the northwest.
So she kept going, using the direction-finding methods Frey had taught her. Apart from brief rests, she rarely stopped.
When Frey crossed her mind again, Vayne's mood didn't change.
In the face of revenge, she told herself she'd set aside those petty attachments.
She believed she'd already adapted to life without Frey.
Her stomach growled.
Vayne lit a fire where she stood, then pulled out the game she'd hunted over the last few days and began roasting it.
The fire crackled, throwing light into the dark. She cut the meat, skewered it, and set it over the flame.
Without meaning to, she glanced to her right—
And her mind filled with memories: Frey teaching her which meat tasted best, which parts to eat, how long to roast it.
It was like she could hear Frey's voice in her ear.
Vayne's face didn't move. Still blank. Still emotionless.
She told herself it was normal to remember.
They'd lived together for two years, after all.
What she didn't consider was why those memories had been coming back more and more lately.
The smell of scorched meat drifted up.
Vayne refocused, pulled the skewer down, let it cool a little, then bit in.
Burnt. Gamey. Bitter. Chewy.
Compared to that guy's cooking, it was like dirt versus heaven.
But it didn't matter. As long as it filled her stomach.
Humans ate so their bodies had strength to move.
Vayne swallowed an entire skewer of burnt meat without changing expression, then drank a few mouthfuls of water.
She was about to check her equipment when she noticed the horse tethered to the tree had started shifting restlessly.
It snorted rough breaths, hooves stepping and scraping.
Animals were far more sensitive than humans.
Especially horses and dogs.
It had sensed something.
Vayne's eyes sharpened. She raised her crossbow and scanned the surrounding dark.
During these days, she'd passed through a small town and had a new batch of blessed silver bolts made—spending almost all her money.
In exchange, her gear was serviced, and she had enough ammunition for what came next.
That gave her confidence.
Rustle, rustle.
A bush about fifteen meters to her left shuddered twice. Vayne snapped her crossbow up and fired without hesitation.
Whoosh!
A blessed silver bolt shot straight into the brush.
But in the next instant, something faster exploded out, howling—
A twisted face, eyes glowing red, black mist coiling around its body.
A demon.
A mutant demon?
Vayne's first thought wasn't fear.
It was certainty.
So this was the right place.
Mutant demons evolved from bloodthirst demons. This mountain forest was practically empty—no people for miles.
If something here had supported the birth of a mutant demon, then something nearby was feeding it.
The mutant demon lunged like a ghost.
Vayne didn't panic at all.
She'd stopped being afraid of creatures like this.
Another bolt whistled toward its face, but it dodged with inhuman agility.
Still, it couldn't close the distance.
Vayne kept pulling the trigger, bolt after bolt snapping through the dark, chasing the mutant demon through its evasive path.
It couldn't keep it up forever. Several bolts punched into its body. The silver burned through it, searing it with agony.
It roared at Vayne, anger and fear tangled together—
And then, instead of charging again, it turned and fled.
Vayne wasn't about to let a dark creature escape once it was in her sights.
She quickly counted her remaining bolts, confirmed she had plenty of room for error, and pursued immediately.
A fleeing demon.
A hunting demon slayer.
They tore through the night forest in a deadly sprint.
The mutant demon was fast—an evolved demon, still low-tier, but high among the low-tier. Its shape left trails of black mist like afterimages between the trees.
And yet—
It still couldn't shake Vayne.
Vayne chased like a cold-blooded killer, her movements clean and efficient, eyes locked on the mutant demon without blinking.
The aura rolling off her was so sharp it made demons afraid.
Then—
Whoosh—
Another shadow burst from the side and struck at Vayne.
Vayne lifted her crossbow and fired a blessed silver bolt with chilling calm.
The bolt punched straight through the bloodthirst demon's skull.
Instant death.
The mutant demon ahead had been about to stop and turn back—ready to fight together.
The moment it saw what Vayne did, it immediately spun and ran even harder.
That second demon only confirmed Vayne's suspicion.
This place was crawling with darkness.
A whole harvest of it—waiting for her.
As that thought landed, the excitement inside her flared again.
Her speed increased. With a human body, she nearly matched the mutant demon stride for stride.
As if she couldn't get tired.
The mutant demon's frantic escape led Vayne deeper—
And the deeper she went, the more dark creatures she saw.
They were hidden throughout this valley.
Everywhere.
Low-tier wraiths, low-tier demons—every kind of dark creature, more and more of them, filling the night like rot breathing under the trees…
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