As he walked and chatted with Lofna, a muffled roar like thunder suddenly echoed from the distance, cutting off their conversation.

The sound seemed to come from the city.

"Thunder!" Lofna jumped at the noise.

"...That’s no thunder."

It sounded less like thunder and more like an explosion.

But Aland World had no gunpowder. Even if alchemists had invented explosives, the blast wouldn’t be this loud—let alone in Ipoli, a backwater duchy.

A bone-chilling sense of foreboding crept over him.

At the exact moment the roar erupted, the stars above seemed to shift subtly—as if something terrible had just begun.

"Lofna, I’ll take you home later. Let’s check what’s happening in the city first."

"Mm." She rarely had opinions of her own and usually followed her teacher’s lead.

He hoisted the little girl onto his back. Guided by a glowing orb of light magic, he sprinted toward the city.

Chaos was already visible at the gates: citizens and guards shouted wildly about "fires," "collapsed houses," and "monsters."

Inside the city, pandemonium reigned.

Some scrambled with buckets to fight flames; others tried to restore order; still more wailed or seized the chaos to loot and riot.

Shel grabbed a spear-carrying guard. "What’s going on?"

"No idea! First, the royal palace caught fire—though they put it out—but then floods broke out elsewhere... Stop bothering me! I’ve got work!"

Fires were one thing—but floods?

Before Shel could process this, something cold struck his head. He looked up. Hail was falling.

The weather turned vicious. Tiny ice shards fell first, then grew rapidly into pebble-sized hailstones.

This made no sense: fires, floods, and now hail? Shel’s confusion deepened.

First, he had to shelter Lofna.

He shrugged off his coat, draped it over the girl’s head, and told her to crouch under cover outside the city—away from the crowd.

Though young, Lofna sensed the adults’ panic. Seeing the city ablaze, she nodded fearfully.

Shel then pushed through the fleeing crowd, desperate to uncover the truth.

But it was impossible.

Residents surged outward; guards were powerless. Everyone fled in blind terror. Shel remained utterly in the dark.

Just as anxiety gripped him, the panicked crowd erupted into frenzied screams: "Monsters are coming!" "Fire-starting monsters!" "The wave’s crashing through!"

Their contradictory cries baffled Shel.

Then he understood.

A colossal wave surged through the city—as if a giant had dumped a bucket of water straight onto the gates—sweeping the crowd outside.

Next, a blinding crimson flash erupted. A massive fireball materialized midair and slammed into the city wall.

Though stone walls resisted flames, Ipoli’s banners at the gate instantly crumbled to ash.

Citizens swept away by the flood were unharmed but wailed for their parents.

Standing far back, Shel avoided the chaos. From the gate, he witnessed the truth.

He finally saw the culprit—a small, humanoid figure shrouded in black mist.

Shorter than Lofna, it radiated terrifying magical energy. Space itself warped around it as it moved.

Its oppressive aura dwarfed any threat Shel had ever faced.

Its movements were stiff, trembling as it staggered toward the city outskirts.

Anything blocking its path triggered a shrill shriek—a sound like a hysterical child.

It spat bizarre incantations, summoning fire, lightning, or floods to sweep away or crush obstacles.

"Fiend! A Fiend!"

A guard howled, pointing at the creature.

Other citizens joined the wailing.

Shel remained puzzled: How could a legendary Fiend appear in a city?

Before he could think further, the mist-shrouded figure turned. Drawn by the cries, it faced the drenched crowd. Annoyed, it changed direction and lurched toward them.

Terrified people scrambled to flee.

The humanoid monster shrieked another twisted chant. Instantly, the fleeing citizens froze mid-step. To their horror, they levitated off the ground.

The Fiend’s doing.

Trapped midair, they tried to scream—but invisible ropes tightened around their necks, choking their voices silent.

Realizing these citizens would die if he did nothing, Shel’s mind raced. He recalled a basic spell, took a deep breath, and chanted.

He stomped the ground. Dust billowed toward the monster, carried by a sudden gust. Snatching a pitchfork washed out by the flood, he reinforced it with a quick enchantment and charged.

The Fiend noticed the dust cloud. It turned toward Shel—but after dispersing the dust, it saw no one.

Shel had circled behind it. He hurled the enchanted pitchfork.

The diversion worked—the fork struck true.

But that was all.

Though Shel had etched the Eternal Church’s sigil onto it and recited prayers, the pitchfork crumbled to ash the moment it touched the Fiend.

Shel froze in shock.

Fiends should recoil from holy symbols—at the very least, ooze corrupted blood. Yet this creature acted unharmed.

Worse, its magic lacked evil taint. It wielded pure elemental spells.

Before he could ponder this, firelight from the wall revealed Shel’s face to the Fiend.

It froze.

Then, trembling violently, it spun and fled toward the suburbs—stumbling like a child.

Shel’s bewilderment deepened.

With its overwhelming power, crushing him should have been effortless.

"The monster’s gone?"

"We drove it off!"

"The Fiend’s been banished!!"

The citizens knew nothing of the truth. In the firelight, they’d seen a pitchfork-wielding hero strike the monster—and watched it flee in panic.

Certain the threat had passed, they erupted in cheers. They surrounded Shel, dancing wildly and singing praises.

They lifted him onto their shoulders, tossing him into the air while chanting boisterous cries of "Long live the demon-slayer!"

Their raucous celebration lasted until dawn finally broke.