Orion observed the newly summoned demon before him, each of the several impossibilities ringing through his mind. Despite his centuries-long lifespan, a demon summoning with no vessel was unheard of.

  The demon flicked his tail, a thin, black appendage extending from his lower half. He wore an armored loincloth, two chains hanging from his black gauntlets, attaching to a backpiece obscured from Orion’s view. He had a thin yet muscular top half, with skin that appeared starkly white, like ash leftover from a raging flame. Long black hair cascaded from his head, with two long curving horns extending from the back of his head outwards. Black markings traced his face and body, with a pair of leathery, jet-black wings protruding from his back.

  “What horrors has Tarmak already brought to this world?” Orion contemplated. “That shrewd creature loves to play games, even after all this time.”

  The demon tilted his head. “Tarmak? Now, that is a name I have not heard in a long, long time.”

  “You mean to say that you have no affiliation with that creature?”

  “How could I? He was killed centuries ago by the Seven Lords. But he was a false god. Yes… I am but a humble servant to the one true Demon Lord.”

  “Oh?” Orion questioned with a mocking tone. “To be fair, it only makes sense for a successor to take his place after all. I’m sure he’s just as weak as Tarmak was.”

  “Do not speak ill of Lord Zerethiel!” Igren exclaimed, then steadied himself. “Seeing as I have no further business with you mortals, I shall take my leave now.”

  “Too afraid to fight?” Orion taunted, drawing a worried look from the boy beside him.

  “Why are you antagonizing him? He said he’ll let us go!”

  “Even without a vessel, there are rules when it comes to the summoning of their kind,” Orion spoke calmly. “In the first few moments, they are vulnerable.”

  “Ah, you’re correct, mysterious man.” Igren smiled. “And while I feel it wouldn’t trouble me to kill you lot, it would be much more of a hassle than it’s worth.” He eyed Orion’s blade for a moment. With that, the demon vanished in a plume of black fire and smoke, leaving behind only the bloodied corpses of the sacrifices made to summon him and a singed portion of dirt where he once stood.

  But his voice echoed once more. “We will meet again, I am sure.”

  Orion whirled around. Igren had somehow appeared behind him, a few feet away, but before he could strike, the monster flapped his wings and took off into the sky.

  That demon… he possesses a skill similar to that of the guildmaster. How troublesome.

  With his full might, and especially with his Pinnacle Skill, which gave Orion control over the flow of time, such abilities would've been trivial to overcome. But now, he was forced to categorize such beings as possible threats. “If it weren’t for you and your stupid–” Orion cut himself off. “No matter.”

  Ansel breathed a sigh of relief, then promptly keeled over, vomiting onto the floor. “His… presence,” he spat between heaves. “How could you even stand?”

  “Hmph,” Orion grunted. "Resisting a demon's influence is as simple as exercising your will. You are weak." He paused. "We need to be wary in our future endeavors. Until I have gained a bit more of my former power, he is a threat.”

  Ansel nodded his agreement, wiping his chin. Kortak and the other undead orcs seemed equally as frightened, although the orc champion seemed to be doing a fair bit better than his master. “What are we gonna do about… this?” The boy questioned, gesturing broadly at the horrific scene before them.

  “Perhaps they have some valuable loot on them,” Orion offered.

  “We can’t rob them! That’s crazy!”

  The skeleton shrugged. “They did attempt to kill us with a demon.”

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  “No,” Ansel said firmly, crossing his arms. “We… we need to bury them.”

  The necromancer and his assortment of undead were nearing the town of Rockenfall, having only needed to travel for another few hours after their run-in with The Sparrows and the demon known as Igren. The town was small and quaint, with only a handful of wooden houses and a village hall to its name. The town itself was bordered by a natural outcropping of stone, creating a natural set of defensive walls.

  But compared to the last time that Ansel had visited the village, things were dead silent. No voices could be heard, even though they were standing just outside the gate, and even the torches attached to the gatehouse were extinguished. The sun had begun to set, and only the last few orange rays of light were visible on the horizon, which only added to the haunting atmosphere.

  It was like a ghost town.

  “Boy, are you sure this is correct?”

  “I’m pretty sure,” Ansel strode forward, then knocked on the gate twice.

  There was no response for a moment, then, finally, a shrill voice called out. “Who goes there?!”

  “My name is Ansel, and this is O–I, I mean Galahad. We are members of the adventuring party, Asharin, from the Avon adventurers guild, and we have received a quest to assist the town of Rockenfall!”

  “Adventurers! At last!” The voice called out, and the gates began to open. Inside, a small assembly of villagers, around fifteen in total, looked on with frightful eyes. Each one held a makeshift weapon, some with farming tools such as rakes or scythes, while others held pitchforks. They gasped at the sight of Ansel and his undead, but the boy quickly assured them that they were under his command, which the villagers reluctantly accepted.

  The owner of the shrill voice who had been speaking to them came forward. He was a rather young, slightly tanned-skinned boy with black hair, but his eyes held a stern determination. “We had hoped that someone would come, but we were so far from any major guilds that we thought it would be much longer.”

  “We have been told that you guys have been terrorized by some monster for a while now, right?” Ansel asked, but the boy didn’t answer, instead holding a thin, frail finger up to his lips.

  “It’s getting dark. Come, we must discuss inside.”

  “You’ve been dealing with this monster for weeks, and no one has come to help?” Ansel asked incredulously.

  The young boy, Theo, nodded grimly. Apparently, he was the son of the former village chief. When he passed, the frightened villagers looked to the boy for guidance, desperately clinging to a sense of familiarity that had been taken from them. He appeared, at best, a year or two older than Ansel himself. “We’ve never even gotten a good look at it, but each day, the attacks grow bolder and bolder. Just last night, we lost two people who went out and tried to fight the thing.”

  Ansel gritted his teeth, thinking about how many lives had already been lost. No one else is going to die here. He thought to himself, determinedly. Suddenly, a heavy thud shook the village hall, causing Ansel and Theo to turn their gazes to the commotion.

  “You deal with this yourself, Ansel. It’s hardly worth my time,” Orion fake yawned, then curled into a sleeping position on the floor.

  “What’s his problem?” Theo hissed with a scowl, eyeing the now snoring skeleton.

  “He’s got an attitude issue,” Ansel replied with a thin smile. “But it’s alright, I’m more than strong enough to deal with this.”

  “Really?” Theo beamed, eyes wide with hope, but he bit back the emotion almost immediately. “The villagers won’t be much help, considering how scared they already are. If there is anything I can do, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

  “Of course,” Ansel answered, slowly steeling his will. “The creature only comes out at night, correct?”

  Theo nodded.

  “Then how come you haven’t tried to escape? Surely you guys could’ve left in the morning when the monster leaves, right?”

  The young village chief shook his head. “We’re all too stubborn to do something like that. Everything we’ve ever known is here. We’d rather die than give it up to some dirty creature.”

  “Fair enough…” Ansel found it hard to relate to the boy, considering that the necromancer had always dreamed of being an adventurer and escaping the farmlands of his hometown, but he could appreciate the resolve of the residents of Rockenfall all the same. “Are there any patterns to the attacks? Any sort of motivation at all?”

  “Well, we aren’t exactly sure. In the first few attacks, the creature killed all of our livestock, and we’ve been living off of last year's harvest. Food is running low though…” Theo trailed off before picking the thought back up. “We figured out that it wouldn’t come into our houses, though, but we aren’t really sure why.”

  “A beast that only comes out at night…” Ansel wracked his memory, thinking of the stories his father used to tell him late at night of the monsters and beasts that he slayed on his adventures. “Is it possible that the creature is some sort of werebeast?”

  Theo nodded. “I’ve had my suspicions. But still, it doesn’t explain why it continues to come here, specifically.”

  Then, a harrowing shriek filled the air, causing the hairs on Ansel’s neck to rise.

  “That sound, that must be Elizabeth!” Theo yelled frightfully.

  But Ansel was already on the move, flourishing his brown cloak and drawing his dagger, Kortak and the pair of undead archers behind him. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna let anyone else die,” he shifted his gaze, staring straight at Orion. “Because that’s what a hero’s supposed to do.”

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