The matter was actually quite simple. In recent days, several farmers had discovered strange footprints in their fields. The prints didn’t resemble any ordinary beast’s, so no one paid them much attention—until yesterday…
The mayor walked alongside Hill, explaining the town’s recent troubles. It was an utterly ordinary little town. The stone-paved road held few passersby besides Rein’s group. But it was winter—who’d waste time shivering outdoors? Everyone was likely huddled inside for warmth.
Rein had finally managed to gobble down half her bread through sheer determination. Clearly uninterested in finishing it, she simply stuffed the half-eaten loaf into her coat pocket without caring about the crumbs. Old habits from her mage days died hard; her robes always had hidden pockets, perfect for stashing snacks.
“What happened yesterday?”
“This way. Better you see for yourself.”
Rein followed the mayor’s pointed finger. A house stood there—utterly ordinary, the kind where regular folk lived perfectly regular lives.
Two militiamen covered their noses as they pried open the tightly shut wooden door. A wave of overpowering sulfur stench hit them instantly, forcing everyone to clamp hands over their noses. Rein, however, caught something beneath the sulfur—a faint, familiar tang. Arcane Power. Her curiosity flared.
Hill stepped inside first. At the dining table sat a middle-aged man, likely the head of the household. His hands rested on the table as if inspecting a meal, but his chalk-white face held no life. A massive gash tore from his chest to his abdomen, spilling entrails across the floor. Even in winter’s chill, the organs reeked.
Several militiamen gagged and bolted outside to vomit. Rein felt no revulsion—back when she was a mage, she’d dissected corpses to study magic’s internal damage. But now? She was just a twelve-year-old girl. Any normal child would be grossed out. To spare her, Sophia had left her outside.
“Whatever…”
Thick-skinned as ever, Rein pulled out her half-eaten bread and took another bite despite the sulfur and blood stench. The nearby militiamen stared, dumbfounded. *How could anyone eat near this smell?*
Hill drew a dagger from the sheath at her waist—a blade etched with strange runes, clearly no ordinary weapon. She probed the wound carefully. “One strike killed him. The blade moved faster than he could react.” She scanned the room. “Any other victims?”
“Yes! Two more in the kitchen—through that door on your left.”
The mayor wiped beads of sweat from his brow. *Odd,* Sophia thought. *Sweating like this in winter?*
Hill pushed open the kitchen door—and froze.
She’d seen human corpses since age twelve, training under her master. But this… this made even her pause.
In the center lay a woman’s body. Her limbs and head had been severed, placed precisely at the five points of a blood-drawn pentagram on the floor. Strange symbols, written in gore, circled the star. Hill recognized the script—it resembled glyphs from a mage’s magic circle.
To the left, inside a waist-high cage, lay a child’s corpse. Unlike the others, this death had been slow. No major wounds—just the right wrist, slashed repeatedly. *Because blood clots,* Hill realized grimly. *They kept cutting to keep it flowing.* The bloody symbols on the floor… they’d been written with this child’s life.
*Cultists…*
The word flashed in Hill’s mind. But she’d dealt with cults before. None had been this vicious.
“Uh… any conclusions?” The mayor rubbed his hands together nervously.
“Preliminary assessment points to a mage’s work…”
“…”
Outside, Rein—still running Detection Spell—paused mid-bite at Hill’s words. *Of course.* The Magic Council and the Holy See were enemies. The arcane residue here felt unmistakable. Yet that sulfur smell lingered, stubborn and strange. She knew no spell that left such a stench in its wake.
