Chapter 100: ¹⁰⁰Blood In The Silent Village

​Snow fell increasingly heavy from the sky, coating the wooden roofs of the Silent Village.

​Yet now, the night had partially passed.

​Dawn had yet to arrive. There was only an oppressive silence and biting cold.

​"We’ve rested enough," Ethan said, his voice low but clear.

​Valera stopped wiping her dagger. She turned her head, looking at Ethan with her golden eyes that had regained their sharpness.

​"So... what is the plan now, My Lord?" Valera asked.

​Ethan rose from his chair. He straightened the clasps of his thick black cloak.

​"We force them out of their hiding holes right now."

​Valera sheathed her dagger, then stood up as well. "Huh? How do we do that?"

​"The corpse of the man whose throat you slit," Ethan replied quietly. "Take it. Hang that corpse on the large wooden pole in the middle of the village. After that, we burn their logistics warehouse to the ground."

​Hearing that insane plan, the corners of Valera’s lips pulled wide. A feral smirk was etched across her face.

​"Tch. You want to set up a stage of terror right in the middle of their own nest?"

​"They’ve been used to being the hunters for so long," Ethan said while draping his black cloak. "Now, we reverse the roles. Force them to become bewildered prey."

​Valera took a deep breath, letting the freezing air fill her lungs. "Hmm, I like that plan."

​Wasting no time, Ethan undid the window latch. The two leaped out, landing smoothly on a pile of snow without triggering the slightest crunch.

​They moved swiftly along the village’s back roads. Piercing through the dead of night, their steps guided them back to the pile of firewood where Valera’s victim was hidden.

​Valera walked in front with the fluid movements of a stalking wolf. Ethan followed right behind her.

​Behind the woodpile, the stiff corpse of the hooded Serpent’s Tongue member still lay there. The blood that had spewed from his neck had frozen into blackish-red ice crystals. His skin was a pale blue.

​Without the slightest ounce of disgust, Valera bent down. With one effortless motion, she hoisted the stiff corpse over her left shoulder. Her physical strength clearly surpassed that of an ordinary human.

​Ethan scanned their surroundings meticulously. Every window of the wooden houses around them was dark and quiet. No villagers dared to peek.

​"Bring it to the center of the village," Ethan ordered with a nod of his chin.

​They moved to the open area at the heart of the Silent Village. There stood a large, tall, and sturdy wooden pole—a remnant of an autumn harvest festival pole that was now abandoned.

​Tonight, that pole changed its function into a gallows.

​Thud.

​Valera tossed the stiff body to the ground. She pulled a coarse rope from the folds of her armor, then tied the corpse’s wrists behind its back with a dead knot.

​After ensuring the knot was secure, Valera leaped lightly. She threw the end of the rope over the pole’s top crossbar, then yanked it hard until the stiff body hung several meters in the air.

​Ethan stood not too far away, observing the corpse swaying slowly in the night wind. His expression was flat. There was no guilt, nor was there satisfaction. He merely ensured that this message of terror was visualized perfectly.

​"I want them to know," Ethan whispered through the howling wind. "That the hunter has entered their cage."

​Valera wiped the remaining snow off her leather gloves. She looked up at the corpse, then turned to Ethan.

​"Let me add one more decoration," Valera said, smirking faintly.

​The female knight leaped, grabbing the shoulder of the hanging corpse to hold it in place. Her right hand drew her dagger. With a single line of horrifying precision, Valera re-slit the corpse’s throat.

​She widened the old wound from the tip of the left ear to the right. Creating a gaping tear that resembled a wide, grotesque smile.

​The remnants of thick blood that hadn’t completely frozen dripped slowly, staining the blanket of snow below.

​Tap.

​Valera landed back on the ground and sheathed her dagger.

​Ethan nodded slowly. The two turned around, moving toward their next target: the logistics warehouse on the western edge of the village.

​The warehouse was the largest wooden building there. Its doors were shut tight, but the pungent smell of chemicals and foul incense wafted sharply from the cracks in the planks.

​Valera scanned the surroundings. "Empty. There are no guards outside."

​Ethan wasted no time. He smashed into the double wooden doors until they burst open.

​CRASH!

​Inside the warehouse, dozens of wooden crates were stacked neatly beside a row of modified wine barrels. On the workbench, glass bottles filled with dense green poison were scattered about. Several oil lanterns burned in the corners of the room, illuminating piles of dry hay.

​"Burn it all," Ethan commanded absolutely.

​Valera grabbed one of the oil lanterns, shattered its protective glass, then hurled it right into the middle of the hay pile.

​Fwoosh!

​The fire responded greedily. Orange flames instantly devoured the hay and dry wooden planks in a matter of seconds.

​Ethan walked calmly to the workbench. He scooped up several bottles of green poison, then tossed them into the heart of the blaze.

​BOOOM!

​Chemical explosions popped fiercely. The fire grew exponentially, creeping up and swallowing the entire old wooden walls. The heat surged drastically, melting the snow outside. Thick black smoke billowed high into the air.

​The crackling sound of burning, snapping wood echoed loudly, serving as the most tangible alarm for all the village’s inhabitants.

​Ethan and Valera retreated in an orderly fashion, heading back to the center of the village near the gallows pole.

​Ethan stood frozen there. His cold face was illuminated by the red glow of the giant inferno devouring the warehouse behind him. Beside him, Valera stood tall, her fingers gripping the hilt of her Zweihander tightly.

​They waited.

​It didn’t take long for the chaos to draw attention.

​Panicked shouts broke out from the houses rented by the Serpent’s Tongue faction. Doors were slammed open. Dozens of cult members scrambled out in dirty robes they hadn’t even had time to button up properly. Their faces paled seeing their main logistics asset engulfed in a literal hell.

​"Fire! The logistics warehouse is on fire! Hurry, get some water!" one of them shouted while holding a bucket filled with snow.

​However, the man’s steps and those of his two comrades suddenly locked in place.

​Their eyes bulged in horror. In the middle of the street, a young man in a black cloak stood calmly beneath the hanging corpse of their comrade, whose neck bore a bloody smile. Beside him, a female knight was ready to swing a giant sword.

​"Who the hell are you?!" one of the Serpent’s Tongue members snapped, tossing his bucket aside and drawing a short sword. "Are you the ones causing this mess?!"

​Ethan didn’t bother answering such a stupid question.

​His right hand extended to the side. Reddish-black Sin Mana exploded from his palm, materializing into a long whip.

​Velcrasia had been summoned. The whip of death pulsed rhythmically in Ethan’s hand, as if it possessed giant, bloodthirsty veins.

​Seeing the cursed weapon, the three cult members charged forward simultaneously.

​Ethan flicked his wrist.

​CRACK!

​Velcrasia’s tip shot out, cleaving through the air like red lightning, striking squarely against the chest of the foremost man. His leather armor and ribs shattered instantly. Blood spewed heavily, throwing his lifeless body backward.

​The second man swallowed hard seeing the instant death of his comrade. Yet he recklessly lunged from Ethan’s left side.

​Too bad he never made it.

​"Where are you going, little rat?"

​Valera dashed out, cutting off his path with a speed that defied logic for someone carrying a giant sword. She swung her Zweihander in a brutal horizontal slash.

​SLASH!

​The giant steel blade separated the assassin’s head from his neck cleanly. The head was launched into the air, while his headless body managed to take one step before collapsing in a pool of blood.

​Seeing two of his friends slaughtered in a matter of seconds, the third member lost all his courage. His short sword slipped from his grasp. His knees went weak until he fell to them on the snow.

​"Y-You... you don’t know who you’re dealing with..." the man whispered, his body trembling violently as tears of terror fell. "Our master... will skin you alive..."

​Ethan stepped closer. His eyes cooled, slowly shifting from dark brown to a blazing crimson.

​"I am well aware," Ethan replied lowly. "I am in the middle of destroying your nest."

​The whimpers and death screams lured out dozens more Serpent’s Tongue members from the dark corners of the village. They emerged from narrow alleys, firing poisoned arrows and hurling throwing daggers.

​"Time to clean up the rest of this trash," Ethan muttered.

​Without warning, Ethan unleashed his Lust Domain. A wave of dense dark aura exploded from his body, invading the entire battlefield. The domain didn’t deal physical damage; rather, it crushed the enemies’ minds and sanity. The cult members instantly screamed in confusion as suffocating illusions of fear and lust assaulted their minds.

​Not stopping there, Ethan wanted to test the limits of his knight’s endurance.

​Consciously, Ethan siphoned and borrowed Valera’s Golden Beast Aura through their magical soul bond.

​Thump!

​Valera jolted violently. The resonance of that aura withdrawal suddenly triggered a chain reaction in the Lust Brand on her left neck. The spiral rose tattoo enveloped in a black aura glowed blindingly bright, as if it had just been doused in boiling oil.

​"A-Ahh...!"

​Valera bit her lower lip hard, suppressing a moan that nearly escaped. A scorching, agonizing heat exploded throughout her neural network. The female knight’s knees softened, her body trembled, and her face instantly flushed bright red in the middle of the battle.

​Although her consciousness was clouded by agonizing lust, Valera’s fighting instincts did not dull.

​An assassin leaped from a roof, intending to decapitate the seemingly unguarded Valera.

​With rapid breaths and cold sweat drenching her forehead, Valera twisted her waist, swinging the Zweihander upward. The blade cleaved through the air and slashed the assassin’s body, slicing it in two.

​"Tch, damn it..." Valera hissed with great difficulty. She tightened her grip on the hilt of her sword. Her chest heaved rapidly as she endured the sensation of forced physical euphoria.

​Ethan glanced over from the corner of his eye. He was perfectly aware of the woman’s condition, yet he had absolutely no intention of stopping the aura drain.

​Valera charged again. She deflected two arrows, then leaped and decapitated two enemies at once. Every time she swung her sword, every time her Golden Beast Aura was siphoned by Ethan, her neck felt as if it were being doused in burning pleasure. She had to clench her teeth tightly so her moans wouldn’t break through the clashing of steel.

​On the other hand, Ethan harvested the lives of the remaining Serpent’s Tongue members with lethal precision.

​Velcrasia danced in the air like a venomous snake. Every lash always shattered bones or tore through flesh. He slaughtered without giving them a moment to breathe, turning the village streets into pools of frozen blood.

​Valera guarded the southern area, ensuring no enemies slipped behind Ethan’s back—even though she had to fight tooth and nail to keep her legs from collapsing to her knees from the torture of the Lust Brand.

​After nearly twenty cult members had been slaughtered to the last man, only one man remained breathing.

​That man was the member who had been the first to fall to his knees. He wept hysterically under the pressure of the Lust Domain, having lost all self-control.

​Ethan approached the man, then extinguished Velcrasia until the red whip melted back into his hand.

​"Run," Ethan commanded. His voice was soft, but it echoed immensely inside the man’s head.

​The man looked up, his face bathed in tears. "W-What...?"

​"Run. Wherever you want to go," Ethan repeated while pointing toward the dark forest. "Bring your friends if any are still alive. And tell your superior... tell The Hollow that Ethan Valen has come to see him."

​Without waiting for the order to be repeated, the man staggered to his feet. Driven by absolute terror, he ran as fast as his legs could carry him through the frozen pine forest, disappearing into the night.

​Ethan let him go. He retracted the Lust Domain and stopped the siphon of Golden Beast Aura from Valera’s body.

​Behind him, Valera took a long, heavy breath. Her body nearly gave out. She plunged her Zweihander into the snow to use as a crutch. Her face was still flushed, her chest heaving rapidly.

​"Only one... hah... only one let loose?" Valera asked in a hoarse voice, wiping the sweat from her forehead. The residual forced physical arousal still made her voice tremble.

​"One is enough," Ethan replied flatly as he straightened his cloak. "One terrified rat will run faster and deliver a much more convincing message. They’ll definitely send someone stronger here."

​Valera chuckled exhaustedly. "Their mages or executioners..."

​"Whoever it is. We’ll wait here."

​The fire burning the logistics warehouse slowly dimmed after completely razing the building to the ground. Thick smoke still billowed, blocking the sky.

​Among the pools of blood and scattered corpses, the doors to the villagers’ homes slowly opened.

​The residents of the Silent Village emerged from their hiding places. However, there were no panicked screams or crying. They merely stood like statues on their porches.

​Their eyes were vacant, staring emotionlessly at the corpses of the Serpent’s Tongue members. Their faces were deathly pale and their movements were stiff, resembling wooden puppets with their strings cut.

​Ethan stared at the row of villagers with a flat gaze. There were no words of thanks or gratitude from them.

​"They’re already broken, My Lord," Valera sighed in pity, stepping closer to Ethan. "The effects of a subjugation poison force-fed to them over a long period. Their bodies are alive, but their souls are already dead."

​"They can still be restored if the poison is purged slowly," Ethan muttered.

​"But that can’t be done right now," Valera cut in realistically.

​"Of course." Ethan turned his face away. His cold heart wouldn’t let pity ruin his priorities. "I am no savior god. Our main target is the head of The Hollow. Leave them here. We’re heading back to the inn."

​Without looking back again, Ethan walked away. Valera pulled her sword from the snow and followed from behind.

​The next night.

​The snow stopped falling. The northern sky parted its fog, letting the pale moonlight illuminate the stage of slaughter.

​The corpse hanging from the village pole remained stiffly on display—a frozen monument of terror. The logistics warehouse had collapsed into blackened debris.

​From the border of the dead pine forest, the figure of a man stepped slowly into the village.

​He wore a dark gray robe with long ends that swept across the snow. His face was obscured by a high collar and a thick scarf. His right hand gripped a black wooden staff adorned with a metal raven skull.

​The most terrifying thing was his eyes. From beneath the hood, his pair of eyes glowed bright red like burning embers.

​The magical aura surrounding his body was scorching hot. Every time his boots stepped on the snow, the surface instantly hissed and melted into water.

​The man stopped in front of the wooden pole in the center of the village. He looked up, observing the hanging corpse of his member with the bloody, smiling neck.

​There was no anger on the mage’s face. Instead, a sadistic smile bloomed behind his scarf.

​He turned his head, shifting his gaze from the corpse toward The Rusted Lamp building at the end of the street.

​The aura of death blew thickly once again.

​At the same time, inside the pitch-black room number four, Ethan Valen’s eyelids suddenly snapped open. A crimson flash ignited sharply in the darkness.

​"He’s here," Ethan said, breaking the silence.

​Beside him, Valera Voss had already stood up, gripping the hilt of her Zweihander tightly.

​"Good," Valera hissed with a feral smirk. "I was starting to get bored of waiting."