I put a hand to my chest and felt the drum-like beating of my heart. My sweat stuck my clothes to my skin; it was a disgusting feeling, especially with the fine layer of dirt on my arms. I tried to wipe the dirt off my hairy skin but to no avail. Then, as my heavy boot 'squelched' into the muddy puddy beneath me, I remembered why I was here. 

Where were the heroes? I had to return their forgotten dagger to them, I couldn't possibly do that if I was scratching myself around! I also brought additional healing herbs and creams for them. To my fortune, the heroes hadn't walked far from our forest—at least to my knowledge.

 I looked around the familiar forest. Bare branches began to sprout buds, flowers had begun to blossom, and although a few piles of ice were still around, tiny insects had started their busy lives atop moist tree bark and short grass that sprung up like hair. This was the forest I was so familiar with, yet, there was always something new. 

As I continued walking and looked around, my nose tingled, and a strange scent, bitter and pungent wafted into my nostrils. I grimaced, the melting snow must've created mold, I assumed. But whatever was molding, it was...

...suddenly, I flinched. It was a familiar scent, one I should recognize. It was one that I had smelled occasionally... but what was it? Something bitter yet with a strong herbal smell...

"Oh my—" I fell into a full sprint, my calves bulged in intensity and my face was pale in shock. I had realized what the smell was. I didn't know where I was running to, but my heart began to beat louder and louder, like that of a storm's thunder; my brown hair was blown back and slightly covered my eyes—I should've cut it shorter! But it was too late to regret anything.

As fatigue overcame me, I halted. In a panic, I looked around as my feet tapped restlessly. In defeat, I shouted, "HEROES! WHERE ARE YOU?!" It was prohibited to create unnecessarily loud noises in the forest, but I had no choice; no wild beast could instill fear in me more than the one I already had. I clenched my fist as no reply was heard. 

Then as I ran past a row of bushes and trees, I flinched as I saw a sight I had never wanted to witness.

The land of the forest had slanted down into a hill and became a wide plain land of dirt and ice. Atop that plainland were countless silhouettes of bodies, numbering well over a hundred; it wasn't wrong to call it a landfill. The entire area was reeked of rotting flesh and blood.

My shoulders shrunk as I took a step backward, never had I seen sliced-up, torn-apart, and pulverized demons before. Their guts were gouged out, blood flowed like rivers and dismembered limbs lay around everywhere. My throat tightened as fluids pushed their way up. As my brain spun threads of thoughts I realized, in a short amount of time, there were only a few warriors who could slay this many demons—it was, without a doubt in my head, the heroes who had visited my village. 

As I took a step down the hill, my feet sunk deep into the dirt with a gross, 'squelch' and a, 'squish.' The air was suddenly more humid and disgusting; every inhale was as if I was inside the coffin of a dead man, I could barely breathe well, even with the hems of my tunic covering my face. 

"No, no, no, no..." I muttered, "What... what have I..." 

Rustle—!

I quickly turned my head to the source of the sound. Near a pile of claws and dismembered hands was a humanoid body, beside it was a curious bird that had quickly flown away. The person's skin was pale as a dead man, their body was still as a stone and was a symbol of isolation. My footsteps quickened as curiosity took over me. I peeked over the garment that hid the person's face, and as I observed the face, I gasped. 

It was the face of a middle-aged man, it was almost youthful, yet wrinkles and white strands of hair overtook his youth. His facial hair was small-shaven stubs of a brown mustache and a beard. His facial features were of ordinary heritage, yet there was something about his well-built body... his packed biceps and refined jawline... and the weak energy that emanated from his corpse, that implied that this man wasn't ordinary. And very surely, I realized—this man was among the Heroes who visited the village. 

He was perhaps the world's greatest healer, Grand Healer, Sir Aurbuk.

I felt my face become a pale remnant of the dead. My heart was again, like a thundering storm, as it resounded like the hooves of a calvary. My hands quivered in fear as I put a hand on the sword on my waist. 

Beside the corpse of the grand healer was a small clay pot filled with a mushy substance. It was a dark purple color and had a dark blood-red undertone. The exuding pungent smell nearly made me collapse as I neared the substance. I covered my nose with a thick portion of my tunic and walked backward. 

The disgusting substance was known as the Dying Cry. It was made of special herbs along with human blood and a demon's blood. The stronger the sources of the blood were, human or demon, the stronger the stench. Created by a great alchemist, the Dying Cry was a cheap method to alert warriors of serious danger...

And I had gotten into that serious danger. 

Then, an ear-splitting cry resounded through the air. An incredible surge of aura made its way to me, knocking me to the moist ground. With a groan, I picked myself up and looked into the horizon of the hilly plains. 

A beastly figure rose into the cloudy skies. It was a dark silhouette with the head of a beastly-crested rooster, its two legs were adorned with yellow scales and sharp talons. It had the body of a chicken, yet its wings were large and mighty but soft and stretchy like a dragon or a bat. The beast's feathers were red from the head, yellow on the neck, and red again on the torso, the beast's tail was short, yet its barbed tip was menacing. It was a creature I had only heard of in horror stories, stories where fear was the only mark left by ink. 

It was a cockatrice, a creature with an terrifyingly high danger status. 

As the monster's wings flapped, powerful gusts of wind were brought down in a typhoon. The hills on the horizon were too far for my eyes to see in detail, but I could recognize several silhouettes far away. It was obvious that they were battling the cockatrice, but something didn't feel right. Multiple questions formulated in my head as dizziness settled. 

Why were there so many demons in one place? How had the grand healer died? Why had his body been left there? And why was there a cockatrice here? And the question that confused me the most... why was I here?

The tightness in my calves gave in as my knees caved, my legs were sore with all the running, and my body began to shiver involuntarily; I hugged myself but my spine quivered in a freezing spell. My trousers were soaked in the blood and dew left on the ground. As I hugged myself tighter, the skin of my arm felt warmer and my head began to weigh a ton. I tried to lift the crushing weight, but my head spun like a hanging rope. 

Something was wrong with me... I tried to raise my arms, or even scream for help, but only a soft gust of air left my mouth. 

Suddenly, I felt a digging urge to give up. 

The moment I considered it, my head fell...

...but as it did, I noticed in the hilly horizons—the jaws of a gargantuan monster from the depths of hell rose like a blowing volcano, such a leviathan-class hell beast terrifyingly oversized the once-giant cockatrice with its stake-like teeth... and it shut. A wave of aura came by me again, this time, it was incomparable to the previous. 

Like a wave being compared to a super-tsunami, the power wave collided with my body like a mighty shield. Its strength felt as if my soul had been squeezed into the eye of a needle—and forcibly burst through as if it had been expelled from my body.

A terrible pain overcame me, my eyes shut like floodgates, and I gnashed my teeth. The afflicted agony was everywhere on my body but nowhere, it was a phantom pain I could not see, yet one I could feel. My scream departed from my lips and a dark curtain slithered upon my vision—

—and the world was dark.