"Demon Hunter?" The Golden Ape looked stunned. "You mean those mutants the devout train specifically to hunt monsters? How did you know he was here?"

"Luck."

Aelina scanned the corpse with her Molecular Reconstructor. She decomposed and rebuilt it to analyze its structure. Cause of death: a penetrating wound—likely a pitchfork through the chest. White-haired male. Muscular build. Kidneys four times larger than normal. Demon Hunters were said to be alchemical and witchcraft creations, able to drink potions lethal to ordinary folk. And it was rumored they were all like pile drivers in bed. That seemed true; Aelina found the corpse’s seminal vesicles over twice the size of a normal person’s.

Nothing valuable remained on the body. Its armor had been stripped bare. Only a strip of white cloth wrapped the corpse before burial. No sword—just a deck of Gwent cards. Aelina showed them to Fro. He called them priceless treasures worth a fortune. This man might have been a master swordsman and Gwent champion in life, yet a pitchfork ended him. After hearing Aelina’s autopsy details, Fro sighed deeply at the tragedy.

Aelina found what she needed—a book. Faint blue light glowed as mist swirled above her palms, forming a tome. Pages turned slowly before her. Her starry eyes, shimmering gold, skimmed the text. A smile curled on her lips.

"Fro, let’s go." Aelina returned the book to the Demon Hunter and activated her Molecular Reconstructor to dig a tunnel.

"We should teach that damn Elder a harsh lesson next," Fro growled. "I’ll take my longsword and slowly carve off his fat belly. See if that liar dares spew more lies."

"Save your fury for later." Aelina twisted her head, dodging a falling hibernating insect. "We’ll play Demon Hunter now. Time to kill the Wraith."

"Wraith?" Fro shuddered, recalling that long tongue. "I—I’d rather fight ten rabid dogs bare-handed with a wooden sword than face that monster again."

"The unknown is most dangerous," Aelina said. "But knowledge tears away its veil. Our Demon Hunter left a book. It details monster lore—including the Wraith. With this knowledge, it’ll be helpless."

"B-but we’re not Demon Hunters," Fro stammered. "Let’s go to my homeland first. My nation has a trade port. Everything’s there. Alchemy supplies from across the world."

"Then go ahead." Aelina walked ahead, her face hidden from Fro. "I’ll handle this alone."

"No! I can’t abandon a frail girl like you!"

"‘Frail’ and ‘girl’ don’t fit me at all." Aelina’s twitching beast ears added height to her frame. "Besides, we share no bond. Just leave."

*No bond.* The words hammered Fro’s heart. He realized sadly—they weren’t even friends. Barely acquaintances.

"T-then how do I honor our contract?"

After killing Durant, Aelina had drafted an agreement: Fro must sponsor her entry into Elf society until she could move freely in their realm. In return, she’d repay his damaged property from her crash landing and enhance his gear with her knowledge and power.

"Simple. Wait at the ferry. If I’m gone five days, leave." Aelina’s logic was sharp, devoid of warmth.

"What if I miss you? Can’t find you?"

"Set up a sign with an ‘X’. I’ll search within fifty meters or wait there."

"If… if—" Fro fumbled, unable to counter her sealed logic. "No! What if bandits ambush you? Or refugees swarm a lone woman with food? I’ll stay. It’s just contract duty. We Elves differ from humans—"

"I’m human. Again." Aelina tapped his head.

"You didn’t say—" Fro’s voice faded.

They trudged ten minutes through the cold, damp tunnel. Light finally broke the darkness. They climbed stairs to the surface. Fro had never found the chilly, corpse-tinged air so sweet. Wild dogs and rotting bodies lay over a thousand meters away. Their horses grazed peacefully on feed, tethered to a tree. Calm. No rabid dogs. No terrifying Wraith.

Aelina checked the wagon and horses. "Good. The mastermind didn’t touch our wagon." She placed her empty brown satchel inside.

"Mastermind? The Elder?" Fro scowled. "That fat schemer! He must’ve wanted our valuables and sent us to die."

Aelina sighed at the Golden Ape’s dull wit. "I meant whoever commands the dog pack."

"What? Someone controls those dogs?"

Aelina sat on the wagon, her slender legs swinging slightly. "Two enemies now. First, the Elder—he’s hiding something vital. A deadly secret. He might’ve even ordered the villagers to kill the Demon Hunter. Second, the Mad Dog Commander—I’ll call him that. Good news: these two foes are also enemies."

Fro tore his gaze from her defined legs. "Peasants? Killing a Demon Hunter? If the Elder dared murder one and shelter a Wraith, why wouldn’t they ally?"

"Notice anything? Refugees flee war everywhere—why stay here? And that massive dog pack. They’d all die if they didn’t move. Unless hope remains." Aelina gave up on the Golden Ape’s smarts. "Thundergrass. The Wraith’s dried-up victims prove it. They risk death for it. What stops them? Controlled dogs and the Wraith. That many wild dogs? Impossible for such a poor village."

"That Elder!" Fro itched to prove his bravery. "I’ll grab him by his mustache and drag out the truth!"

"No. We rest outside tonight." The Silverhaired Maiden stated the truth. "Earlier, we were wolves; they were sheep. Now it’s reversed. A disarmed warrior and a powerless witch? Just easy prey. My Molecular Reconstructor needs cooling."

Fro hated admitting it, but agreed. He wore no metal. His bee-patterned robe was singed and filthy. His belt hung half-broken, chewed by dogs. Even his Knight’s boots were ruined—missing a toe cap, revealing a rounded big toe.

They drove the wagon to a secluded grove, pitched a tent, and camped.