In the middle of the night, a shadow stumbled toward the river. Under the moonlight, it revealed itself—a twenty-year-old woman with brown hair tied back with a red scarf.
She carried a wicker basket in her hand, which was so heavy it hindered her movement. Usually, she did chores like washing clothes early in the morning, but that night, she had no choice but to do it late.
Meryl had convinced herself to work harder. Her family was going through tough times, and she couldn't afford to miss any opportunity to work.
"This is all for a better future…"
But would that better future truly come? Meryl hummed a song under her breath, a melody that gave her strength and peace. She had learned this song from her mother years ago when she, too, had walked this path to wash clothes. Had her mother endured hardships back then for the hope of a brighter future?
Meryl walked nervously under the branches of the trees and reached the riverbank, which was relatively far from the village. Still, she could see the castle walls which was closer than the village.
This was the exact time when Harold and the Baron were talking in one of the rooms. A while later, when an explosion erupted, Meryl was the first to notice the events within the castle. The Baron's castle was hidden behind a thick forest and was at a distance from the village. Naturally, at that hour, when everyone was asleep from the fatigue of their daily labor, no one else noticed the sound from such a distance.
But Meryl was different. She followed the river's flow, left the clothes behind, and approached the castle walls. However, she hid behind a tree. Terrifying screams from inside the castle sent chills down anyone's spine.
Meryl stared wide-eyed at the golden flames leaping skyward. A little later, when she came to her senses, she immediately ran toward the village. She had to inform everyone so a group of villagers could be sent to help. Yet, even if she managed to do so, it would have been in vain. By the time she was halfway back, Harold had already enacted the sacred decree. Still, Meryl ran, panting.
"I have to... I have to tell everyone… I have to…"
But at that moment, she twisted her ankle and fell to the ground. Her head hit a small rock, leaving a scratch. Along the way, she stumbled several times but got up each time and continued.
Time passed quickly. Dark clouds drifted across the sky, occasionally hiding the silver moon behind them.
Meryl looked around. The forest was utterly enveloped in darkness and silence. A strange smell filled her nose, and a thin line of blood clotted in her messy hair.
"Where… am I?"
It was then that she realized she was lost in the forest.
Confused and exhausted, she ran aimlessly in the direction she thought she had come from, but the more she ran, the more lost she became.
Eventually, she gave up and sat under a large tree. She clutched her head tightly and thought that if only that night—just that night—she hadn't tried to do anything, she'd likely be lying on her usual cold mattress, wrapped in that smelly blanket she hadn't shaken out in ages. Now that she thought about it, that blanket didn't seem so hateful, and the chill of that mattress was far less than the damp dirt she was sitting on.
And so, the night passed.
The next morning, when people headed to the castle for their daily tasks, they encountered a horrifying scene: blackened walls and terrified corpses scattered everywhere. Streams of blood had dried on the ground, and the stench of death had attracted wild beasts. A flock of crows circled above the castle; some stood over the bodies, tearing at the flesh with their beaks.
However, a bit farther away from them, amidst the undergrowth, a hand reached out, grabbing Meryl's waist and lifting her off the ground.
Meryl, semi-conscious from pain and exhaustion, would occasionally wake with a light jolt, only for the weight of her eyelids to pull her back into sleep.
Hours passed. Meryl heard the crackling of a fire, its redness visible even behind her closed eyelids. Her dry lips were cracked, and her skin had turned pale.
A weak, faint voice said, "Meryl… you're awake?"
Meryl turned toward the voice; Joseph was sitting away from the fire, shrouded in darkness.
"Joseph? You… what are you doing here?"
Joseph, whose face was turned toward the wall, slightly tilted his head and glanced at Meryl over his shoulder. "Meryl… you… shouldn't be here…"
"But Joseph, you… why are you hiding?"
Meryl was surprised. Joseph had always been shy and reserved, uncomfortable in groups. But the fact that he was now in a cave in the forest, clearly avoiding Meryl's gaze, was something she couldn't understand.
"Joseph… do you know where we are? We need to go back… right! Yes! Joseph, we have to go back to the village."
"I'm sorry, Meryl."
"Huh? What do you mean, Joseph? You saved me…"
Joseph slowly stood up and said, "No, Meryl…"
His shadow stretched tall against the wall, his face shrouded in darkness.
"Sorry .... I'm .... I.... I can't save you…"
When the light fell on Joseph's face, Meryl recoiled in horror. Joseph had a terrifying grin on his face, crying tears of blood, with his neck twisted grotesquely.
"He… he's coming, Meryl…"
"What are you saying, Joseph? You?? Are you really Joseph?"
As she slowly backed away, she watched Joseph's horrifying face, which seemed like the very embodiment of the devil. Joseph stood right in front of the fire, reaching his hand out toward Meryl.
Joseph's eyes slowly closed. At that moment, he felt himself losing control over his body. Taking a step back, he shouted with a near scream, "Run, Meryl! Get out of here now!!!"
Meryl, noticing the change in Joseph's voice, froze in terror for a moment. Joseph's grin may have been maniacal, but his eyes said otherwise. They spoke of pain—overwhelming pain.
Joseph returned to the cave, battling the demonic entity now trying to take control of him.
Meryl ran as if she knew stopping for even a moment would cost her life. She didn't glance back even for a second; gasping for air, she dodged oak trunks and just managed to leap over holes in the ground.
After some time, she felt her strength failing. Yet the fear of death pushed her forward, leaving no room to consider stopping. Then, the sound of a wolf's howl echoed behind her, forcing her to push herself even harder.
Moments later, a voice whispered in her ear, "Where do you think you're going?"
Meryl wanted to scream, but her voice caught in her throat. Instead, she shut her eyes and ran with a speed she never thought possible.
Tap! Tap! Tap!
She crossed a small stream, but her foot struck a stone, sending her tumbling to the ground.
Meryl, now confronted by grim reality, panted heavily. There was no escape. The werewolf approached slowly, with an unhurried menace.
Meryl clenched her fists and crawled across the forest floor. Her nails ripped painfully from their roots, but she didn't cry out. She bit her lip and, with great effort, pushed herself upright once more.
"You can't escape. This entire forest is my home," the werewolf said with a guttural snarl.
But just then, Meryl slipped down a slope, and the werewolf, seemingly unaware, followed her.
At the bottom of the slope was a small river. As Meryl slid down, she noticed a small fire and struggled to drag herself toward it.
Behind her, the werewolf had also descended the slope, and now Meryl was caught between the river and the beast. For a fleeting moment, she thought she saw someone near the fire. She tried to scream, but suddenly she fell into the river, and everything went black.
The werewolf let out a furious roar and slammed its head against a tree. Joseph, unwilling to let Meryl come to harm, fought fiercely against the demonic soul within him.
Joseph screamed, "I'll kill you, bastard!!! You… you killed her!!"
But suddenly, he caught a glimpse of a shining sword, descending like a comet from the heart of the dark night. In an instant, it split his skull in two.
Harold used magic to pull Meryl out of the river and placed her near the fire.
"So you really did exist…"
Harold held his silver sword, the blade he used to hunt monsters. The sword had a thin, cold edge, engraved with several runes. Under the moonlight, the runes glowed, absorbing the werewolf's blood.
Harold cast a purification spell to cleanse the corruption within the corpse, but darkness poured from the wounds, resisting him.
A voice said, "Haha! Stupid knight. This attack may have destroyed my body, but my soul is still intact."
The darkness began to pile up like dough, forming a dark specter.
Harold smirked and said, "A dark specter, huh? Do you really think an incomplete demon like you can do anything?"
The dark specter let out an ear-piercing scream, sending waves of energy toward Harold.
Harold used magic to shield himself from the attack, then retaliated with a fireball aimed at the demonic spirit. The fireball passed through the specter and hit a rock behind it. The forest behind them caught fire, and flames began climbing the hill.
"Haha! Knight. You're a warrior who can wield mana! People like you are rare. Too bad your life ends here."
Harold, knowing the dark spirit couldn't be subdued without the holy sword, immediately blocked the specter's attacks and summoned the sacred blade.
In an instant, he used blink magic to disappear. The demonic spirit, startled, scanned the area, feeling the aura of the holy sword.
[Where… where did he go?]
At that moment, it got its answer. As the sacred sword pierced its chest, Harold stood behind it.
"It's time for you to return to the hell you came from…"
The dark spirit let out a deafening scream before dissipating into smoke. Harold glanced at Joseph's decaying corpse and set it ablaze.
[If it continued to decompose, it would've turned into an undead. This is better for him; at least now he'll rest in peace.]
At dawn, Meryl awoke in her usual cold bed. Everything felt like a bitter nightmare. She had a vague sense of something terrible happening but, like a dream, quickly forgot the details.
On the surface, everything seemed normal. Her room was untouched, just as she remembered it. When she stepped outside, the sun was rising behind the blue mountains. Meryl glanced at the road and saw a man riding away on a horse.
Something deep within her urged her gratitude toward him. Yet, the lessons she'd grown up with warned that strangers in cloaks, especially those carrying swords, often spelled trouble. Still, as she watched him fade into the distance, she lifted a tentative hand in farewell and whispered a soft wish for his success.