The next morning, the sun had climbed high.
Nidhogg led Torrent, the spirit steed, to the monastery gates.
"You really don't need me to go with you?" The pot-bellied bard had come to see him off and couldn't help asking again.
Nidhogg shook his head. "Why would you follow me? If it really is bandits, I might not be able to protect you. You could get shot by an arrow, and then Father Hobbes would have to arrange your funeral."
"Ugh..." The bard considered this possibility and finally dared not follow. "Well, be careful. If things look bad, run fast. And don't forget to come back and tell me what's really going on in Mist Valley."
Nidhogg nodded in agreement.
At that moment, Father Hobbes, who had also come to see him off, produced a simple map from his wide sleeve and handed it to Nidhogg.
"A hunter who once ventured into Mist Valley drew this map. It may not be entirely accurate, but the general direction should be correct. Follow the route marked on the map, and you'll reach Mist Valley."
"Thank you." Nidhogg glanced at the map and tucked it away.
"May God bless you." Father Hobbes intoned a blessing, then opened his eyes and nodded to Nidhogg.
Nidhogg didn't particularly want the blessing of the god Father Hobbes believed in. After all, there really were gods in this world, and he was curious about which "One God" these people worshiped.
He turned his horse and gently squeezed its flanks. Torrent followed the path from the monastery, past the village, and left the main road.
The bard, still reluctant to part with this companion he had traveled with for a week, stood at the monastery gates, watching Nidhogg until the figures of man and horse disappeared around a street corner.
Nidhogg rode out of the village and approached the mountains beyond. From a distance, he had seen a windmill tower on the mountain. It reminded him of the little girl, Jill, in the village beyond.
Jill was a very important person to the Apostle he was about to encounter in Mist Valley. That Apostle had poured all his remaining humanity into this girl named Jill.
But thinking about it, Nidhogg had neither the time nor the need to seek out that little girl.
Clop, clop, clop—
Torrent trotted along muddy paths, through forests, across small streams. Soon, Nidhogg spotted a stone wall encircling a village.
He spread the map on his horse, confirming the direction and location were correct. He was about to continue past the village when he suddenly heard a strange buzzing sound. He couldn't help but look up.
He saw dense black specks in the air above the village.
Looking closer, he could make out creatures that resembled wasps—but much larger than ordinary wasps.
The buzzing came from the swarm's vibrating wings.
Moreover, these wasps extended three pairs of legs, each clutching a small child. Having caught five or six, they flew off in a swarm into the distance.
Nidhogg tracked their direction. It was the way to Mist Valley, his destination.
He frowned and immediately rode into the village. Soon, a familiar, foul stench assailed his nostrils.
The horrifying scene confirmed his grim premonition.
No living people or livestock remained in the village. Only bloodied skeletons lay in the streets, slumped against doorways, or knelt in hovels. Their empty eye sockets told of the boundless terror before death.
In an instant, a large swarm of flies buzzed around these bones.
The facts were clear: the "fairies" of Mist Valley had hunted this village. They had gnawed the flesh and blood of the adults and livestock and abducted the children—their modus operandi, as always.
Nidhogg covered his nose and rode Torrent through the village, confirming that no living person remained. Then he left and returned to the path outside.
He was well-informed and didn't retreat upon seeing this tragedy. He urged his horse onward, continuing up the mountain.
The closer he got to Mist Valley's domain, the eerier and quieter his surroundings became. Torrent snorted disdainfully, blasting white vapor from his nostrils.
The mountain path grew increasingly difficult, the forest denser. Nidhogg recalled Torrent with a whistle and continued on foot.
The crude map was of little use in this wilderness. Nidhogg put it away and relied solely on direction. But after a few steps, the sky suddenly darkened.
He looked up and realized it wasn't that day had turned to night. The branches and leaves of this forest were simply too lush, blocking out the sunlight and casting an ominous gloom over an already dark world.
The more this happened, the more Nidhogg felt he had found the right place. This had to be it.
The territories of many Apostles overlapped not because they were friendly, but because they shared a symbiotic, mutually beneficial relationship.
After all, their favorite food was humans.
At this moment, Nidhogg dared not lower his guard. He drew Bloodhound's Fang.
Last night before sleeping, Nidhogg had used the Smithing Stones he obtained to strengthen this curved sword. From now on, he planned to use it alongside his Lordsworn's Greatsword.
After all, this curved sword's skill, "Bloodhound's Finesse," was incredibly useful. Especially the second phase—"Bloodhound's Step"—which allowed him to lunge forward with explosive speed and catch enemies off guard.
Bloodhound's Fang's innate "bleed" buildup was also very effective.
It turned out his vigilance was justified.
As Nidhogg took another step, he suddenly felt something wrong underfoot. It was as if he had stepped on something that writhed.
Already focused, he didn't hesitate. He used the first half of Bloodhound's Finesse.
FWOOSH—!
He spun and leaped in a wide arc, nimbly landing several meters behind himself. Then he looked at what he had just stepped on. Sure enough, he saw something strange.
It was a writhing vine. At that moment, it squirmed and thrashed like an insect, its tip slightly curled upward.
Nidhogg traced the vine to its roots and soon spotted a large tree nearby.
GROAN—!
The large tree, now looking strange and ominous, exhaled from its trunk. These growths twisted into human-like faces.
The surrounding branches and vines transformed into terrifying tentacles, constantly swaying.
At the very center of the tree, a head even opened a bloody mouth and roared at Nidhogg.
FWOOSH—!
Many vines lashed out, swinging violently, then rapidly converged from all sides, encircling Nidhogg in an instant.
SLASH—!
The vines surged like a tidal wave. But Nidhogg effortlessly swung Bloodhound's Fang, reaping like a harvester, cutting down every vine in his path.
Bursting through the encircling vines, Nidhogg charged at the face tree. In an instant, he was upon it.
The human face immediately raised a branch like a palm and slapped down!
CRASH—!
The heavy branch slammed into the ground—but it hit nothing. A crack was carved in the earth.
Nidhogg had already used the moment to leap back. Then, with Bloodhound's Step, he suddenly lunged forward. He planted one foot on the trunk, leaped, and hurtled toward the central head of the face tree.
FWOOSH—!
Nidhogg raised Bloodhound's Fang and struck the central head. The blade bit deep, tearing open a huge wound. Blood sprayed!
The human face howled. The vines began to thrash wildly, lashing out indiscriminately. Other human faces gnashed their teeth. The entire trunk shook—but it couldn't dislodge Nidhogg.
Nidhogg kept slashing with Bloodhound's Fang, continually cutting down the smaller heads and writhing vines.
Whenever the face tree struck at him, he used Bloodhound's Finesse, and the backward leap dodged most attacks.
And Bloodhound's Step was even faster. Entering its "invincibility" state, he could charge straight through the face tree's "bullet hell" and pierce its vitals.
Finally, Nidhogg had cut down all the smaller heads and tiny vines. Once more, he drove Bloodhound's Fang into the face tree's trunk.
This time, the human face let out one final, agonized groan. All its branches drooped. The largest human face slumped forward. There was no more sound.