Coming back the night settled gently over the smith village, wrapping everything in a calm, cooling silence. The lively energy from earlier had faded, leaving only the soft hum of the night and the faint glow of dying embers.
Steel Beard stepped forward, grabbing a bucket of water before pouring it over the campfire.
Hiss—
Steam rose as the flames died instantly.
"Alright, ladies," Steel Beard grumbled, wiping his hands. "Get some rest. You'll need it for tomorrow."
No one argued.
The day had been long.
Solarynth led Vex and the other horses toward a nearby shed, the wooden structure creaking slightly as he pushed the door open. The animals shifted calmly as he guided them inside, his movements quiet and careful.
He paused for a moment, resting his hand lightly against Vex's neck.
"…Rest well," he said softly.
Vex huffed quietly in response.
Solarynth grabbed a bundle of hay and tossed it down, watching as the horses began to eat. Satisfied, he stepped back, closing the shed door behind him before returning to the blacksmith.
Inside, the space was warm, filled with the faint scent of iron and smoke. Tools lined the walls, and the forge, now dim, still held traces of heat.
"Alright," Steel Beard said from the corner, glancing at them all. "No funny business. Don't go touching things in your sleep."
A few small reactions followed—nothing serious.
They were too tired.
Everyone began settling in.
Solarynth placed his bag down carefully near his bedding, making sure everything was in place. Omen and Rook leaned their weapons against the wall, shields resting beside their spears in a practiced manner.
Outside—
Asura had already climbed up, choosing the roof of the blacksmith as his resting place. The cold air brushed against him as he laid back, arms behind his head.
He preferred it that way.
Inside, Louis was already asleep.
Even then—
His spear remained in his hand.
Always ready.
Grace sat beside Solarynth, her focus shifting as she leaned closer, gently inspecting his eyes. Her expression was serious, careful, as she checked for any signs of strain or damage.
"…It's stable for now," she said quietly. "But don't use it. Not until the gadget is finished."
She looked directly at him.
"You got that, Solarynth?"
Solarynth nodded.
"Yes, Grace… I understand."
A small pause.
"…Goodnight."
Grace gave a faint smile, nodding once before standing.
"Goodnight."
She moved to her side, quietly organizing her tools before settling down.
Solarynth lowered himself onto the ground, resting against his bedding. The ceiling above him came into view—simple, wooden, unmoving.
Yet—
Something felt off he couldn't explain it.
It wasn't danger.
Not exactly.
But something… Unsettling.
His gaze lingered upward as his thoughts began to drift.
The journey.
The Red Zone.
The Minotaur.
The battles.
Then the voices.
"What is that thing…"
"Why is it here…"
"It should've died in the Red Zone…"
"Monster…"
Solarynth's eyes softened slightly he understood.
He wasn't human, he knew that.
He was different always had been.
But still—
He wanted to understand them.
To live like them.
To feel what they feel.
"…Because I don't know what I am," he thought quietly.
His memories drifted further back.
Far beyond this world.
Space.
Endless, Silent and Beautiful.
But empty.
There was no warmth.
No voices, no connection.
That's why he came to this world.
To learn.
His thoughts shifted again—
To Asura.
The story.
The pain.
The loss.
Solarynth's gaze lowered slightly.
"…Losing someone…"
He didn't understand it fully.
Not yet.
But he felt something from it.
Something heavy.
Something real.
Then another memory.
The Minotaur.
The moment he was struck.
The pain.
That was the first time.
Fear.
And then—
Wrath.
The feeling that followed.
The surge.
The reaction.
"…So this is what it means…" he whispered faintly.
Emotion he had learned so much and yet—
So little.
His eyes slowly began to close.
"…Who am I…?"
A celestial?
A human?
Something else entirely?
No answer came.
Only silence and sleep.
Outside, the night remained still.
Too still.
Far beyond the mountains…
Something had already begun moving.
Far beyond the quiet safety of the smith village, where mountains stood like ancient sentinels beneath the night sky, dark figures slipped between stone and shadow. They did not rush, nor did they hesitate. Their movement was deliberate—silent, controlled, as if the night itself had given them permission to exist within it.
There were no footsteps.
No armor clashing.
No warning carried by the wind.
Only presence.
Only intent.
At the front of them all walked a single figure, his pace calm and unbothered, as though the world ahead of him was already his to claim.
Maelkris...
Behind him, the shadows followed, spreading outward just enough to remain unseen, waiting for the moment they would be called upon.
As they approached the smith village, its defenses came into view. Tall stone walls reinforced with dwarven steel surrounded the settlement, and watchtowers stood vigilant under the dim light of torches. The guards were already in position—alert, disciplined, and ready for anything that might emerge from the darkness.
Or so they believed.
The moment Maelkris stepped into clear sight before the gate, the shadows behind him scattered to the sides, vanishing into the edges of the battlefield. He walked alone now, fully visible, his presence impossible to ignore.
Immediately, the guards reacted.
Crossbows were raised.
Arrows drawn.
Steel rang softly as swords were unsheathed.
Two heavily armored dwarven guards stepped forward at the gate, forming a defensive line, while above them, dozens more lined the walls, aiming directly at the lone figure below.
From the highest point of the tower, a commanding voice broke through the tension.
"Who are you? State your name and your business!"
Maelkris did not answer immediately.
Instead, his eyes shifted.
Darkness consumed them.
The Eternal Eye awakened.
In that instant, the battlefield unfolded before him in perfect clarity. Every guard, every weapon, every angle of attack—he saw it all, not as chaos, but as structure. His gaze moved slowly, deliberately, analyzing each detail as though he had already fought this battle a thousand times before.
"Thirty with crossbows and bows trained on me," he said calmly, his voice carrying just enough to reach them. "Two major guards at the gate… and one leading from above."
His gaze lifted.
Locked.
Directly onto the top guard.
"…You."
A chill ran through the air.
The top guard stiffened, gripping his weapon tighter as unease spread among his men.
Maelkris' expression remained unchanged.
"Name's Maelkris…" he continued, his tone almost casual. "And you owe me someone."
The name alone was enough.
A ripple of shock passed through the guards. Some exchanged glances, others tightened their grips, and a few felt their breath catch in their throats.
Even those who had never seen him befor—
Knew the name.
(The Devouring God.)
The one who had defeated a god and consumed its very essence.
"What are you doing here, Maelkris?!" the top guard shouted, forcing strength into his voice despite the growing fear. "We haven't done anything to provoke you!"
Without taking his eyes off the threat below, the top guard signaled to one of his men.
A dwarf rushed to the alarm.
Moments later—
The bell rang.
Loud.
Urgent.
Relentless.
Evacuation had begun.
"…Damn it," the top guard muttered under his breath before focusing again. "Who is this person you're looking for?"
Maelkris remained silent for a moment.
Then, slowly, his expression shifted—not into anger, nor amusement, but something far more unsettling.
Annoyance.
He glanced over his shoulder, a subtle movement, yet enough for those hidden in the darkness to understand.
His servants tensed.
Waiting.
"…Oh," Maelkris said at last. "Just someone I've taken interest in."
His gaze returned to the gate as the bell continued to echo through the village.
"…Since you've already called for evacuation," he added quietly, "you'll get exactly what you want."
Then—
It began.
From his back, massive black wings burst forth, spreading wide with an unnatural force that seemed to bend the air itself. Each feather shimmered faintly, edged with something sharp, something wrong.
"FIRE!" the top guard roared.
Arrows were released all at once, cutting through the air in a deadly storm.
But Maelkris did not move.
Instead, his wings shifted—just once.
A violent surge of wind exploded outward, deflecting every arrow mid-flight. Some shattered instantly, others spun wildly before crashing harmlessly to the ground.
Before the guards could react—
He struck back.
Several feathers detached from his wings and shot forward like blades, slicing through the air with terrifying precision. A few guards fell immediately, their bodies collapsing before they even understood what had happened.
"…Now," Maelkris whispered.
That was all it took.
From the shadows, his servants surged forward, unleashing bursts of fire magic that slammed into the gates and walls. Flames erupted, spreading rapidly as explosions echoed across the village.
The alarm bell rang louder.
The smith village was under attack.
Inside the village, chaos unfolded instantly. Dwarves rushed from their homes and blacksmiths, grabbing weapons while shouting for their families to move. Children were pulled close, elders guided toward escape routes, and warriors formed defensive lines despite the overwhelming threat.
Atop the blacksmith—
Asura's eyes snapped open.
He didn't need to think.
He already knew.
"…So it begins," he muttered, rising quickly before leaping off the rooftop. He landed with ease, his body steady as he looked toward the burning gate.
Inside the blacksmith, the sound of the alarm shattered the quiet.
Grace shot upright, panic flashing across her face as she grabbed her bag. "What the hell is happening?!"
Rook and Omen were already moving, their training evident as they reached for their weapons in perfect synchronization.
Louis stood as well, already armed, his shield raised and spear firmly in hand as if he had never truly been asleep.
Solarynth woke next, his senses immediately catching the distant screams and the crackling of fire. Without hesitation, he grabbed his bag, his expression sharpening as he rose to his feet.
Before anyone could piece together what was happening—
The door burst open.
Steel Beard stood there, his presence heavy, his tone urgent.
"We're under attack," he said bluntly. "You all need to evacuate. Now."
But even as he spoke, he was already moving.
He reached for his warhammer, gripping it firmly before his other arm began to twist and shift, transforming into a built-in injector. Without wasting a second, he moved to his kitchen, grabbing what remained of his prepared food—thick steaks drenched in his concoctions.
He consumed them rapidly.
The effect was immediate.
His body expanded, muscles tightening as energy surged through his veins. His breathing deepened, his presence growing heavier, more imposing, as the enhancements took hold.
"…Now I'm ready," he muttered.
Without another word, he stepped outside.
The others followed.
And what greeted them—
Was a village in flames.
Dwarves running.
Guards falling.
Fire spreading.
And at the center of it all—
A single figure stood, wings spread wide against the burning night.
Watching.
Waiting.
Solarynth's eyes locked onto him.
And in that moment—
He understood.
This was no ordinary enemy.
This was something far worse.