All the girls' corpses were abandoned by the tentacles. The tentacles retreated to a corner of the room, scheming how to deal with Rein.

Rein didn’t care. She silently chanted a spell, waved her hand, and a Magic Circle appeared on the floor. It did nothing. Holding a bottle condensed from her Mental Force, she walked out, closing the wooden door behind her. A brief silence fell between Sophia and Rein.

The quiet was like an empty night. Sophia stared at Rein’s youthful face for a long moment before asking, “You’re not… not your first kill, are you?”

Rein’s expression remained unchanged—as if she’d merely crushed an ant on the street, not taken a life. She shook her head. “Not the first time…”

“You’re so young…”

“Age means nothing.”

Sophia was speechless. Rein’s blunt reply choked her. She’d never handled a killer under twelve. Once, a boy under ten murdered his playmates over stolen bread in a small room.

Recalling that boy’s innocent, unaware eyes, Sophia realized how vital upbringing was. In Rein’s gaze, there was no purity—only the weariness of someone who’d seen too much. What had this twelve-year-old endured?

“Let’s go. While it’s still early…”

“What about the tentacles and corpses inside? We can’t just leave them.”

“…”

Rein snapped her fingers. Hellish flames erupted from the Magic Circle. The tentacles turned to charcoal before escaping. The girls’ bodies became ashes.

“This place should stay buried underground.”

“What about the families? They’ll keep searching without bodies.”

“Better than seeing their daughters like that.”

No parent should see their precious child with a swollen belly, tentacles endlessly emerging from her lower body.

“So they’ll search forever?”

“No… Time will fade it all.”

They were farmers—the backbone of human nations. Only such people could endure losing children and still live on.

Bathed in long-missed sunlight, Rein finally relaxed. She glanced at the tentacle in the small bottle, found in the mayor’s house. To many, it was evil. To merchants, a priceless treasure. With enough profit, danger meant nothing.

Rein reinforced the bottle with her Mental Force and tucked it into her outer pocket. She dared not place it inside—not after executing those girls herself.

“Time to catch the mayor,” she muttered. She pulled out the bottle again. In the sunlight, the tentacle looked like an ancient fossil—ugly yet heavy with history.

***

“Reverend! This is Camille!”

The mayor dragged a scantily-clad woman to Hill. Camille was nearly thirty but still had striking looks—the kind she traded for survival.

Everyone respected Hill, but Camille showed no reverence, just glancing around silently.

“Camille, where were you last night?”

“Working.”

Her “work” meant exchanging flesh for coin.

“Where exactly?”

“The granary. Those big shots dragged me there to avoid their wives.”

“Until when?”

“Almost midnight. But I left early when things got noisy here.”

“So everyone was alive when you left?”

“Of course. Full of life.”

“But we found fifteen male corpses in the granary. Explain that.”

“I don’t know!”