Andrew turned to the man. "Thank you again for your hospitality. It means a great deal to us."
The towering leader gave a brief nod, his face softening slightly. "Gratitude is not necessary. It is our honor to host messengers of Konah. May I ask what your name is? Mine is Bar-jul."
"Andrew." Andrew inclined his head in acknowledgment. "Still, we're grateful. You've been generous." He glanced at Mella, who smiled faintly, following his lead.
"You may stay in my home for as long as you wish," Bar-Jui offered, his deep voice carrying authority and warmth. "There is only one thing I ask in return."
Andrew straightened. "And what's that?"
Bar-Jui stepped closer, his imposing figure casting a shadow over the both of them. His tattoos seemed to glow brighter in the afternoon sun. "When you return to Konah, tell him of our hospitality. Make sure he knows how we honored his messengers."
Mella let out a soft breath, her smile broadening with an air of ease. "We will make sure of it. Your kindness deserves recognition."
Andrew gave a firm nod, mirroring her tone. "You have my word."
A rare smile crossed Bar-Jui's rugged features. "Good. Follow me."
As they followed the leader through the village, the chants of the villagers began to rise. People stopped their tasks to bow slightly as Andrew and Mella passed, murmuring in unison, "May Konah make sure we continue living in abundance."
The rhythm of their voices was hypnotic, almost melodic, and it gave Andrew an uneasy feeling. He glanced at Mella, who leaned closer.
"Is that a prayer?" she whispered.
Andrew shrugged lightly. "Maybe. Or a mantra."
The chanting continued, a low murmur that followed them through the village until they reached the largest structure. Though it paled in comparison to Earthly standards, the rectangular building stood four times the size of the surrounding huts, its woven exterior adorned with hanging charms and carved totems.
Bar-Jui stopped at the entrance, gesturing with a massive hand. "Welcome to my humble home."
The air inside was cooler, shaded from the relentless sun. The interior smelled faintly of herbs and wood smoke. Simple yet sturdy furnishings filled the space—woven mats, a low table, and racks of weapons along the walls. It was more utilitarian than Andrew expected but still carried a sense of pride and purpose.
Mella stepped further in, her eyes sweeping the room. "Your home is… impressive," she said with genuine appreciation.
Bar-Jui let out a grunt of satisfaction. "It has served me well."
---
Elsewhere—Back at the First Village
The sound of hooves clattered against the dirt road, sending echoes through the surrounding forest. At the front of the group rode a man whose very presence exuded authority. His blue horse, taller and sleeker than the others, moved with an air of superiority, its four glowing eyes scanning the surroundings with an eerie precision.
Behind him, ten other riders followed, each mounted on yellow horses, their glowing eyes constantly darting in search of threats. The group approached the village gates, where the bodies of water foxes lay scattered—some cleanly sliced, others impaled with iron spears.
The blue horse neighed sharply, stopping just before the gate. The man dismounted in a single fluid motion, his towering figure wrapped in luxurious furs and gilded armor. Blonde hair spilled down past his shoulders, a stark contrast to his thick, neatly groomed beard. He adjusted his cloak, its rich fabric dusted with the sheen of power, and strode toward the gates as they swung open.
"King Ophilia," the villagers murmured, dropping to their knees as he passed. "Thank you for appearing before lowly peasants like us."
Ophilia's gaze swept the scene, his lips pressed into a thin line. The sight of the slain water foxes stirred no emotion on his stoic face. Instead, his sharp blue eyes turned to the nearest guard.
There were some pools of water, but the monsters body had not disappeared at all.
"What happened here?" Ophilia's voice was calm, but there was a dangerous undercurrent that made the guard flinch.
The man swallowed hard, his spear trembling slightly as he stepped forward. "The creatures… they attacked us in numbers, my lord. We tried our best to hold the gates, but…"
"But what?" Ophilia interrupted, his tone icy.
The guard's voice rose slightly, filled with nervous excitement. "God sent soldiers, my lord!"
Ophilia's brow furrowed, his expression hardening. "God?" he repeated, a subtle edge to the word. "You mean goddess, surely?"
The guard's face turned pale. He stumbled over his words, bowing repeatedly. "Y-yes, my lord! Forgive me—Goddess Yerina! I… I misspoke. Please, spare me. I didn't mean—"
Ophilia raised a gloved hand, silencing the man with a single gesture. "Enough. I'm not here to punish your incompetence. Get to the point. What do you mean by 'god' sent soldiers?"
The guard nodded quickly, relief mingling with fear. "The soldiers, my lord… they looked different than us. No glowing marks on their skin. But their abilities were…" He hesitated, searching for the words. "…superhuman. Magical."
Ophilia's eyes narrowed. "Describe them."
"The woman," the guard said, his voice trembling, "she could summon iron spears from thin air and shoot them without touching them. And the man…"
"What about him?" Ophilia pressed, stepping closer.
"He could jump… so high, like he was flying! And… and he fired water from his hands, like the beasts themselves!"
A dark shadow passed over Ophilia's face. His jaw tightened, and his eyes glinted with something sharp—anger, or perhaps unease. "And after these miraculous soldiers defeated the beasts, what happened to them?"
The guard shifted uncomfortably. "They disappeared, my lord."
"Disappeared," Ophilia repeated, his voice low. He turned to look at the water fox corpses strewn outside the walls, the iron spears still embedded in the ground. He reached out, running a gloved hand along one of the shafts. It was smooth, perfectly crafted.
Ophilia stood motionless, his gloved fingers still brushing the smooth iron of the spear. His gaze lingered on it for a long moment before he whispered, almost too softly for anyone to hear, "Just as I heard."
He turned abruptly, his cloak billowing behind him like the shadow of a stormcloud. Without a word, he moved toward his horse, the massive blue beast snorting and stamping impatiently as if sensing its rider's unrest.
The soldiers straightened in their saddles as Ophilia mounted.
"To your horses," he commanded his voice a blade of iron cutting through the oppressive quiet.
The riders obeyed instantly, their yellow-eyed mounts stirring as they turned to follow him. They left the villagers kneeling in the dirt, heads bowed and whispers rippling through the crowd.
"Did we do something wrong?"
"We couldn't have..."
Their murmurs faded as the sound of hooves swallowed the voices, leaving the village behind. Ophilia rode at the head of his company.
He slowed abruptly, and his men halted behind him. For a moment, the world seemed unnaturally still. Then Ophilia turned in his saddle, casting a long look back at the village.
"Fall," he said simply.
The air split with a deafening crack of thunder. A jagged lance of lightning arced across the sky, striking the heart of the village. The flash illuminated Ophilia's face.
Another bolt followed, then another. Lightning rained down in rapid succession, consuming the wooden homes and scattering the villagers. Their screams boomed, flames erupted, spreading in wild.