Most of the time, they are trapped in the bottomless abyss. Even if they break through and descend upon the prime material plane, they will be weakened, and the stronger the demon, the more severe the restriction.
And the demons capable of leaving a curse are often high tier.
It sounds a bit strange for a high-ranking demon to break through layers of restrictions just to leave a curse on an ordinary village.
Beside Nancy, Serdur and Elton both stepped forward.
They used their methods to try to remove the abnormality from the old man’s body, but unfortunately, they didn’t succeed.
"Don’t waste your efforts. This curse appeared a year ago. At first, we also sought help from the church, but the priest who came to the village was also helpless and soon left. Since it wasn’t contagious, they let us fend for ourselves."
"Conventional divine arts can handle most ordinary curses, but a demon’s curse..." Serdur said.
He finally realized what the familiar feeling he sensed upon arriving in the village was.
In his past travels, he had visited an abandoned village where all the people had become mummified corpses. The aura of that environment was very similar to this one.
It must be said that a demon’s curse isn’t unresolvable. High tier divine arts or rituals, powerful divine power items, or destroying the source of the curse can all dismantle the curse.
But for an ordinary village, any of these would be an unattainable luxury.
Serdur’s words led to a brief silence in the room.
"My symptoms are already considered good. The children in the village look like monsters. That’s why every household shuts its doors; we’re afraid of encountering..." the old man’s gaze swept over the group as he leaned against the bed.
After speaking a few sentences, he started to gasp for breath, his body weakened.
Everyone understood his implication: the village feared encountering those "well-meaning" adventurers who would treat all the villagers as monsters and slaughter them.
"As for the big monster you killed, it only roams at night. Most of the time, we hide at home, and it doesn’t harm us, but it is unkillable," the old man sighed and continued.
"Unkillable?" Gauss raised an eyebrow. His Monster Atlas had indicated a successful kill. "Sir, I’ve checked. It’s truly dead. You can rest assured."
Although the group couldn’t resolve their affliction, at least without the monster, the village’s citizens would be much safer.
"No, to be precise, even if you killed it, a new one will be born after a while." The old man shook his head. "Previously, a kind adventurer came and helped us kill that monster, but after he left, after ten days or so, a new monster appeared again."
"The village’s situation not only didn’t improve but became worse."
Hearing this, Gauss fell silent.
He couldn’t imagine that his good intentions had only worsened things.
His gaze fell on the old man’s frail body; the birth of the Demon Race might be absorbing their life force.
This means that every time the Demon Race is killed, it brings temporary safety but accelerates the village’s demise.
The curse isn’t contagious, and removing it requires a price too great, which the church is unwilling to pay attention to.
Even daily activities must be done cautiously, fearing that an overzealous adventurer could decimate the village, forcing everyone to remain hidden in their homes even during the day.
It’s utterly desperate.
After inquiring more from the old man, Gauss shook his head.
Besides the earlier conversations, there were no other significant clues.
The old man had no idea how the curse appeared, only that it started about a year ago.
They only knew it was related to demons from what the priest said; otherwise, they would still be in the dark, thinking it was just some strange disease.
The night passed without words, and Gauss and the others returned to their temporary camp to rest.
Next morning.
Perhaps the old man told others in the village about Gauss and the group.
Early in the morning, some "children" could be seen playing in the village.
Gauss boiled some water and quietly watched from a distance.
The deformities on those children were more severe, but perhaps due to the resilience of youthful life force, they didn’t appear too frail.
Gauss couldn’t sense a demonic aura from them; they were humans, just a group of unfortunate humans who had been cursed.
A little girl shyly approached the camp, her arm oddly swollen and covered with rough flakes, with something seemingly crawling under her skin. Yet her eyes were clear and bright, curiously observing Gauss, the handsome stranger, and the steaming pot in front of him from a distance.
Gauss managed a gentle smile, took out a few clean honey candies from his storage pouch, placed them on a clean rock, and pushed them slightly toward the girl, indicating she could take them.
The little girl hesitated for a moment, ultimately unable to resist the lure of the candies, quickly ran over to grab them, and swiftly retreated to a safe distance.
She had a sense of safety, but not much.
She unwrapped the candy, carefully placing it in her mouth. The sweetness made her squint her eyes, revealing a trace of childlike pure happiness, akin to a little mouse finding cheese.
"What’s your name?" Gauss gently asked while stirring the pot for breakfast.
"Lucy..." the little girl mumbled, her mouth full of sweet candy.
"Lucy, that’s a lovely name," Gauss smiled. "Why not play with the others?"
"They don’t play with me. They say I stink." She said, taking two more steps back until she was sure Gauss wouldn’t smell her, then stopped.
But she didn’t realize that that distance made no difference to Gauss.
Gauss didn’t mind her odor either.
After chatting a bit, the little girl finished her candy and left quietly.
Serdur, who had been silent at the side, sighed deeply when he saw this.
"Maybe in a few years, this village will quietly disappear, won’t it?"
"A few years..." Gauss pondered in his heart.
That’s indeed possible.
This was just an exceedingly remote village, and even if it vanished, no one would care.
As long as it’s not contagious and deemed an extremely unlikely event, it won’t attract much attention.
"Let’s go."
After breakfast, Sorin urged everyone to set out again.
Sorin mounted his horse, continued to drink heavily, and sang songs, seeming to have already forgotten about Rolling Stone Village.
That’s the professionalism of an adventurer; they’re not omniscient gods and often encounter situations beyond their capabilities, usually to be ignored and move forward.
Gauss took one last look at that desolate little village, then tightened the reins on his chocobo, driving his mount to catch up with the team.