The first Ghoul didn't even have time to register its failure. It lunged with a wet snarl, its jagged claws raking the cold air where Dorian's throat had been a heartbeat before. Dorian didn't bother drawing a blade. He pivoted with the mechanical precision of an executioner and drove a palm coated in biting, crystalline light directly into the creature's sternum.
**[Skill: 'Divine Strike': Rank 1]**
The impact was a violent erasure. The Ghoul's ribcage didn't just shatter; it turned to grit. Holy resonance surged through its necrotic veins, flash boiling the black ichor into a foul, sulfurous steam. The creature was hurled backward, its body dissolving into grey ash before gravity could even claim its remains.
The remaining four Ghouls froze. Their rudimentary minds were wired to flee the light, but the hunger gnawing at their marrow was an older, more demanding master. They began to circle Dorian in the dying twilight.
"Dorian! Behind you!" Elena's voice cut through the square. She held a 'Light Stone' aloft, its flickering radiance casting long, twitching shadows.
Dorian didn't turn his head. His **[Holy Eyes of Truth]** were already mapping the heat signatures of every necrotic pulse in the square. He tracked the rhythmic, wet thud of their corrupted hearts as if they were drums in a silent room. Two Ghouls lunged simultaneously. Dorian finally drew his wooden training sword. In his grip, it became a conduit for a resonance that made the air hiss.
He didn't swing at the creatures; he swung at the empty space between them. A crescent of white fire erupted a 'Slicing Resonance' technique he had perfected as an Emperor. The arc of light sheared through the Ghouls in a single, fluid motion. They hit the mud with a wet *thud*, the wounds cauterized by a gold fire that devoured them in seconds.
The final two Ghouls turned to flee toward the dark of the Whispering Woods.
"Leaving so soon?" Dorian's voice was a cold blade. He raised his left hand, his fingers curling as if plucking at invisible harp strings.
**[Skill: 'Holy Bindings': ACTIVATING]**
Thin, golden tethers shot from his fingertips, coiling around the fleeing Ghouls' ankles and jerking them backward. They clawed at the dirt, leaving deep furrows as they were dragged toward the center of the square. The villagers watched through boarded windows in a suffocating silence. They had never seen a boy slaughter monsters with such detached, mathematical indifference.
The young woman who had tripped near the well remained curled on the ground. "On your feet," Dorian said, not even glancing at her. "Go inside. Your whimpering is a nuisance."
He reached the two thrashing Ghouls and raised his wooden sword, the tip vibrating with the concentrated energy of a **[Divine Strike]**. "Purify," he whispered. He drove the blade into the first Ghoul's skull. The light detonated, a pillar of brilliance that turned the night into a bleached, shadowless day. The second Ghoul was caught in the overflow, its skin charring and crumbling instantly.
*Ding!*
**[Saint Quest: COMPLETED!]**
**[Good Deed Detected: Saving Oakhaven.]**
**[Faith Points Received: +300]**
**[Current FP: (9,998,830 points deducted)]**
Dorian turned back toward the tavern. The Mayor and a handful of villagers were emerging, their faces like wax. They didn't cheer. They stood at a distance, staring at the piles of ash.
"Is the nightmare over?" the Mayor whispered.
"The scouts are dead," Dorian said, his gaze locking onto Julian, who was trembling. "But these were only the feelers. The 'source' is still breathing in the woods."
"The ancient crypts," Elena said, stepping into the square. "Ghouls of this potency require a 'Focal Point.' A wellspring of necrotic pressure."
"Then we move to the woods," Dorian said.
"Now?" Julian's voice cracked. "It's midnight! We'll be butchered!"
Dorian turned a look on Julian so cold it seemed to physically push the boy back. "You're welcome to stay here. But if the Ghouls return, the villagers will likely use you as a distraction. Your choice."
Julian swallowed his fear and followed. Dorian turned to Silas. "Stay here. Establish a perimeter of 'Purification Salts'. If anything larger than a rat attempts to cross it, burn it to the ground."
Dorian turned toward the forest. The trees were twisted oaks that looked like skeletal fingers. He could feel the necrotic energy pulsing from the heart of the woods a deep, rhythmic thud like the respiration of a titan.
*Ding!*
**[System Warning: Entering 'Whispering Woods'.]**
**[Danger Level: High.]**
Dorian's smile widened a sharp, predatory expression. "Eighty five percent sin," he whispered to the darkness. "That's a generous harvest."
He stepped into the tree line, Julian and Elena following into the shadows. As they passed beneath the first canopy, the temperature plummeted. The silence was replaced by a constant, low frequency hum the sound of the woods whispering in a dialect that predated kings.
"They're watching," Dorian said. Hanging from the low branches of a lightning scarred oak were dozens of woven dolls made of dead grass and human hair, each slick with black ichor. "Welcome to the source."
***
**Author's Note:** The village is safe, but the woods hold a darker secret. Dorian is stepping into the heart of the rot. If you enjoyed the clinical slaughter of the Ghouls, support the novel with your **Power Stones**! Your votes keep the Emperor's resonance strong. Are you ready for the crypt in **Chapter 12**? Let us know!