"We... We are going to hunt the Night Devourer!"
Hearing the man’s words, the crowd went utterly silent.
The shock was universal, but its flavor differed.
Among the Stonehides and Frostwalkers, only Chieftains Norak and Laura showed no surprise.
On the other hand, their warriors stared at their leaders, confusion and dawning horror on their faces; they had followed their chiefs into a betrayal, but not into a collective suicide pact!
The Salom tribesmen were no different. The only faces that showed no shock were those of Risha and her husband.
"How is that different from dying?" Risha squinted her lone eye at the red-robed man, her voice cutting through the stunned silence. "And even if you are a Peak Tier 6 Resonator, you won’t amount to much more than a slightly more irritating snack in front of that thing."
Surprisingly, the man didn’t bristle. He nodded, as if she’d made a perfectly reasonable point.
"Indeed. You are correct. Which is precisely why we require your help." A thin, almost invisible smile touched his lips. "And of course, we have a plan."
Risha held his gaze for a long moment, the wind whipping between them. Finally, she gave a single nod.
"...Alright. I agree." She paused, letting the weight of her concession settle. "However, you must agree to one of my requests as well."
"Of course," the man replied smoothly, his tone one of magnanimous concession. "As long as it is not unreasonable."
"Good." Risha turned, her fur mantle sweeping around her. "Then please, come inside. I think it is better to discuss the rest... privately."
She began walking back toward the chief’s hall, her husband falling into step beside her, a silent sentinel of vigilance.
"Let’s go." The red-robed man’s command was soft, yet it carried across the frozen clearing.
Norak and Laura moved instantly, falling into step behind him with the stiff precision of soldiers. The fear they held for him was palpable, a leash that had yanked them from chieftains to subordinates.
On the bloody field, warriors from all three tribes stood frozen.
The heat of battle had fled, leaving a cold, bewildered dread in its wake. They lowered their weapons, not in truce, but in a paralysis of fear — fear of the man in red, and a far deeper, more primal fear of the thing he had just named.
For all their boasts of courage, the thought of the Night Devourer turned their bones to ice.
No one moved.
_____ __ _
Meanwhile, from the shadowed entrance of the damaged infirmary, two figures watched the procession toward the chief’s hall.
Uru’en’s knuckles were white where they gripped her axe shaft, her breath clouding in sharp, angry puffs.
Lumin’s gaze tracked the red-robed man until the heavy fur curtain fell shut behind him. The moment he’d seen him, he’d used [Character Insight]. Now, he focused on the translucent blue window it had left hovering in his vision.
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Alias: The Red Envoy
True Name: Yaro Yore
Titles: Blood Marquis / Crown Prince’s Hidden Hand
Affiliation:
- Crown Prince’s hidden protector/supporter
- Founder of the Ironclad Legion (Retired)
- A Hidden Villain of "A Crown Of Ashes"
Rank: Peak Tier 6 Resonator (Pseudo-Ascendant)
Resonance Path: [Blood Marquis] - Grants advanced blood manipulation.
Resonance Gift: [Bloodline Suppression] - Can overwhelm weaker beings with sheer aura density.
Observed Abilities:
- Advanced-Grade Blood Manipulation
- Perceptual Field (Senses aura fluctuations at extreme range)
- Low-Grade Space Manipulation (Short-Range Teleportation/Phasing)
Present Goal: "Secure enough meatshields for the ’Nightfall Hunt’. Help his master to achieve his purpose."
Threat Level: ★★★★★★ (Do Not Engage!)
Note: "A calculating predator draped in civility. He sees people as tools or obstacles. A pure villain."
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’Crown Prince’s hidden hand... Pseudo-Ascendant... Pure villain.’ The terms clicked together in Lumin’s mind like a death knell. ’Damn my luck.’
The scale of the trouble had just exploded from a tribal conflict to a royal conspiracy.
It was both somehow expected and unexpected. Of course, the Crown Prince would have monsters in his shadow. But one of this caliber, labeled a ’pure villain’... it explained why the man was marked as an antagonist.
If his subordinate was like that, then he, too, was surely a villainous figure. If so, his and Cassandra’s guesses about him trying to take over the shield families were correct.
His eyes snapped back to the Present Goal. To the... ’meatshields’.
A cold clarity washed over him.
He instantly understood what awaited the warriors of the three tribes. They weren’t allies or even pawns. They were disposable fodder, a buffer of flesh and bone to be thrown at the Night Devourer to soften it up, to test its defenses, to die so that Yaro guy could land a killing blow. Death was the best they could hope for. Something worse was far more likely.
But the understanding brought a crushing weight. There was nothing he could do. Nothing they could do. To protest would mean the immediate slaughter of everyone here. He was still far too weak. They all were.
’Unfortunately, Lady Nisha left for the academy.’ He thought bitterly. She even warned him about not being able to watch him, so that he should protect himself well. ’But, how can I lea-!’
Suddenly, his senses screamed a warning. Someone was behind them, moving with silent, predatory grace.
However, he didn’t react. The figure was already too close, and he already recognized them.
Tap.
A hand fell on his shoulder. At the same moment, an arm wrapped around Uru’en’s torso from behind. Both of them were yanked backward with overwhelming force, dragged like sacks into the deeper shadows of the ruined infirmary.
"Hey—!" Uru’en snarled, her free hand clawing for her axe, her body tensing to fight.
Then she caught a glimpse of the person holding her, the sharp profile, the familiar orange eyes glittering in the dim light. Her struggle died instantly. Her eyes went wide.
"...A-Aunt Saya?"
The woman, Saya, didn’t speak until she had hauled them deep into a rear storage alcove, hidden behind stacked pelts and clay urns. Only when they were completely shrouded in shadow did she release them, her eyes blazing with urgency.
"Quiet," she hissed, her voice a low rasp.
Uru’en rubbed her arm, confusion and defiance warring on her face. Lumin stayed still, watching.
Saya took a deep breath, as if steeling herself, then focused on her niece. "Uru’en. You need to leave. Now. Take the hidden path behind the cold springs and get as far from the territory as you can."
"W-What?" Uru’en stiffened. "Why? I’m not running—"
"You are ," Saya cut in, her voice sharp. She then turned to Lumin, her gaze assessing and desperate. "You! I don’t know who you truly are, but you got her to listen once. I ask you, please, get her out of here!"
"Aunt Saya!" Uru’en’s jaw dropped. "I’m not leaving my home! I’m not going-"
"Your mother ordered this!" Saya snapped, grabbing Uru’en’s shoulders, her fingers digging in. "There is no hope for us in a fight against that man. None! If he discovers you are the heir, he will take you. He will use you as a chain to leash your mother and father, to make them walk into the Devourer’s jaws without a fight. Do you understand? Your safety is the tribe’s safety right now!"
Although Salom’s chief was selected based on strength, Uru’en had long been recognized as the heir. Everyone had also agreed to this arrangement.
"!" Uru’en paled, but the stubborn fire didn’t leave her eyes. "And what about the others? The children? The elders? You and my parents? Am I just supposed to abandon everyone?"
"Sister has a plan for them," Saya said, her voice dropping even lower, tinged with a sorrow that spoke of a plan with terrible costs. "They will be as safe as they can be. But you are the key he would use to break it all. You must go!"