The night sky gradually replaced the orange hues of dusk, enveloping the small village in a dim, shadowy atmosphere. The cold night wind crept between the simple wooden houses, most of which were aged and crumbling. In the distance, the chirping of nocturnal birds and the snapping of branches added to the village's eerie ambiance.
Alcard slowly arrived at the village gate on his horse. His tall figure, with glowing red eyes characteristic of an Outcast, stood out even in the dim light. The armor he wore gleamed faintly under the moonlight, which was partially obscured by clouds, still stained with dried blood from his previous battle. His presence shattered the village's false sense of peace.
Several villagers who had been chatting outside their homes fell silent upon seeing him. The men standing on wooden porches whispered among themselves, stealing cautious glances in his direction, their expressions a mix of fear and curiosity.
"An Outcast..." one of them whispered, his voice filled with unease. "Look at his eyes... terrifying."
A woman standing at the door of her house quickly pulled her child back inside. The child, wide-eyed with curiosity, managed to steal one last glance at Alcard before his mother covered his face with her hand. "Get inside. Don't look at him," she whispered anxiously, shielding her child from Alcard's approaching shadow.
Alcard noticed their reaction, but he kept guiding his horse forward at a slow, steady pace, following the narrow stone path. The road was cracked and uneven, signs of the village's age and neglect. On either side, small gardens enclosed by weathered wooden fences looked withered, reinforcing the air of poverty that hung over the village.
He let out a quiet breath. Such fearful stares were nothing new to him. But beyond their expressions of terror, he knew there was an unspoken resentment—a hatred toward something they didn't fully understand.
At the end of the road, the village hall stood. It was the only building that appeared slightly better maintained than the others, though still modest in structure. The wooden door was half-open, casting a flickering glow of candlelight from within. Two men stood at the entrance, their faces tense with worry. One of them, an elder with thin white hair, stepped forward hesitantly.
"G-greetings," he stammered, his voice trembling slightly. "Are… are you the Outcast sent from The Wall?"
Alcard stopped his horse in front of the village hall. He gazed at the old man with a sharp, unreadable expression, making him even more nervous.
"Yes," he answered curtly. "I was sent to deal with the Cyclops. Where is it?"
A small crowd began to gather around the village hall. Some of the villagers seemed relieved upon hearing Alcard's words, while others only grew more anxious. Whispered conversations spread through the crowd, though no one dared to speak aloud.
The elder forced a small, uneasy smile and nodded slowly. "F-forgive us… We rarely receive visitors, let alone… an Outcast. But this village desperately needs your help. The Cyclops has been terrorizing us."
Alcard dismounted with a firm motion. He tied his horse's reins to an old wooden post.
"Alright," he said in a flat tone. "Five bags of gold, as promised."
The elder reached into the tattered robe he wore and pulled out two small cloth pouches filled with gold coins.
"H-here…" he stammered, handing over one pouch. "T-the rest will be given once the Cyclops is dead," he added, his voice quivering.
Alcard took the pouch without comment, quickly weighing it in his hand.
"Two bags. That's enough for now. Give me the rest once the job is done."
The murmurs from the gathered villagers grew louder. Some seemed reluctant about handing over the coins, but none were bold enough to voice their concerns in front of Alcard.
"I need a place to tether my horse," he continued, his cold gaze fixed on the elder. "Then, show me where the Cyclops was last seen."
The elder pointed toward a small barn beside the village hall, then, with a trembling hand, gestured toward the western forest.
"T-this village is small… We don't have many places for a horse. You can use the barn. And… the Cyclops was last seen in that forest over there."
Alcard gave a small nod without a word. He led his horse to the barn, securing it before checking his gear—his longsword strapped to his back, a few small knives, and a simple supply pouch. Once everything was in place, he stood outside the barn, his gaze fixed on the dark forest in the distance.
"I'm leaving now," he said to the village elder, not waiting for a response. "The sooner I finish this, the better for all of you."
The elder only nodded weakly, his face a mix of hope and worry.
"M-may you succeed," he murmured.
The villagers' eyes remained fixed on Alcard as he slowly disappeared into the darkness of the forest. His tall figure cast a shadow that blended seamlessly with the night. To them, he was a paradox—a savior and a threat, someone they needed yet never truly understood.
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