The dirt road leading to Veilmoor was a pale ribbon, crumbling into patches of damp mud covered with dead leaves. The vegetation on the edges seemed to watch them with twisted branches, creaking in the wind like old bones.
Eren Vale walked a step behind Darin, his leg still throbbing under the improvised linen bandage, his torn coat stained with dark blood. Even limping, he showed no signs of stopping.
Nyssa slipped right behind him, almost glued to his good leg, emitting low, contained plops, as if she had learned that too much noise was a risk. She kept herself almost against the ground, her body trembling like living jelly trying to make herself smaller, less noticeable.
The village first appeared as an indistinct cluster of crooked roofs. As they advanced, it revealed its shapes: crumbling wooden houses, moss-covered at the edges, windows boarded up with poorly nailed planks.
The chimneys spewed thin gray smoke, which dissipated in the wind before gaining height. A constant smell of manure, wet wood smoke, old sweat.
People began to emerge as they entered the main street—a muddy path with uneven stones embedded in the mud like broken teeth. At first, just faces peering from behind torn curtains. Then, bolder, stepping onto porches or leaning against door frames. No one spoke. They just watched.
Eren felt the gazes scanning every detail of him: the dirty bandage on his thigh, the blade still stained with dried blood, the torn overcoat, the narrowed, cold eyes.
Nyssa attracted even more attention—a translucent, semi-human creature with pulsating parts covered only by a poorly placed rag, trying to hide behind that young tamer.
People murmured among themselves. Low voices. Words like "monster," "curse," "who's that?" "is it safe?" spread like mold.
Darin seemed oblivious to all this. He walked with his chest puffed out, trying to disguise his fatigue and anxiety. The improvised staff tapped the ground with each step, creating a rather pathetic rhythm of improvised leadership.
In the center of the village, there was a slightly more open area, with a black trunk stuck in the middle, like a dead monument. Someone had hung melted candles and ribbons with ancient inscriptions—symbols of protection, if anyone asked, but that did nothing.
Darin stopped there.
He cleared his throat loudly.
"Hey! Everyone!" His voice faltered a bit on the first syllable. He coughed again. "People! Pay attention!"
The villagers shifted but didn't come too close. They formed a wide semicircle, each with crossed arms or hands on their belts. Distrustful, hostile gazes.
Darin took a deep breath and turned to Eren.
"Stay here," he murmured, as if giving an order.
Eren didn't respond. He just stopped, distributing his weight not to strain the injured leg. His eyes scanned the small crowd without emotion. He analyzed expressions: fear, disgust, curiosity. Little respect.
Nyssa shrank further behind him, emitting an embarrassed plop.
Darin raised the staff.
"Listen!" His voice came out firmer this time. "I brought help!"
No one replied. Only the wind moaning through the gaps in the houses.
Darin continued, louder.
"You complain, don't you? That no one does anything! That the chickens are being torn apart! That we hear those… those grunts in the middle of the night! That no one sleeps anymore!"
An older woman, with a scarf on her head, spat on the ground.
"Yeah… So what?"
Darin ignored her.
"Well, I found someone! A real adventurer!"
Eren remained motionless.
Real adventurer. Argument with no social backing. They don't know me. Imminent rhetorical failure.
Darin gestured to him with the staff.
"This one! He saved me out there! He killed three of those wild dogs by himself!"
A man with an unkempt beard scoffed.
"Three? And who guarantees?"
Darin pointed forcefully.
"I saw it! With these eyes! He lured the biggest one and stuck the knife in its eye!"
Someone laughed, a dry, humorless sound.
"How courageous. One guy against that… thing eating our chickens?"
Darin took a step forward.
"He's not just anyone! He's a… he's a Monster Tamer!"
Silence. A silence that seemed to grow like mold.
A teenage girl murmured to her mother:
"A Tamer? Isn't that the kind of people you said never to go near?"
The mother squeezed her daughter's arm.
"Be quiet."
Darin paled, realizing the reactions.
Monster Tamer. Degraded class. Negative local reputation. Failed rhetoric. Argument against itself.
Eren watched everything as if witnessing a poorly coded bug unfold.
Darin insisted:
"He has a bound monster! Look!"
He pointed to Nyssa.
She shivered, trying to hide even more. Part of her gelatinous breasts slipped out of the poorly tied bandage, but she only managed to cover herself worse.
"M-m-master… n-no…" she whispered.
The people backed away further. Darin spun in circles, trying to find support.
"He… he can solve it!"
No one responded. The blacksmith crossed his arms.
"Alone?"
Another man spat.
"He'll solve nothing. He'll just irritate the thing."
An old woman spat on the ground.
"He'll bring a curse."
The voices grew, overlapping. Murmurs of fear, disdain.
Darin tried to shout:
"You don't understand! He knows how to fight! He…"
Nothing.
Noise. Emotional counterarguments. Zero strategy. No authority logic. Persuasion failure. Predicted.
Eren just watched, his face unmoving.
Conclusion: Darin is mediocre. Probably already had a poor reputation. Emotional rhetoric without social backing. Lack of ethos. Lack of real pathos. Result: hostility.
Finally, the crowd began to disperse. Some continued to look with disgust or fear. But all turned to their houses, slamming doors, closing curtains.
Darin stood there, holding the limp staff by his side. His head down.
Silence. The wind passed, raising cold dust.
Eren cleared his throat, dry.
"Is it over?"
Darin trembled.
"They… they didn't…"
Eren didn't comment. Nyssa shifted, hesitating.
"M-master… what now?"
Darin raised his head, red-eyed.
"Come."
Eren didn't move immediately.
Critical variable: shelter. Single option. Dismiss immediate hostility. Acceptable.
He nodded.
Darin turned his back.
"You... stay at my place."
Eren walked behind him, limping slightly. Nyssa followed, almost dragged along, emitting low, damp sounds.
The walk to the house was short. A crooked cabin with cracked slate tiles, smelling of smoke and sour milk.
Darin pushed the door open forcefully.
"Mara!"
A thin woman, hair tied in a careless knot, appeared in the shadows. Deep-set eyes. A scarf covering part of her face.
"Darin? Who... who is this?"
Darin took a deep breath.
"He... he's going to help us."
She looked at Eren with pure fear. Nyssa shrank even more, almost disappearing. Mara didn't notice her presence immediately, thinking she was just another adventurer because the slime was so withdrawn.
Eren said nothing. He just entered.
"Passive hostility. Acceptable. Priority: shelter, rest, planning."
Darin dropped the staff in a corner.
"Stay. Do what you want. Tomorrow we'll talk about... the plan."
Eren looked at him.
"Acceptable."
Nyssa tugged at his coat.
"M-master... bed?"
He didn't blink.
"Floor will do."
She made a sad plop.
Darin sank into a chair, covering his face with his hands. The only light came from an oil lamp, casting flickering shadows across the walls.
Eren sat in a corner, his leg stretched out, eyes closed, but his mind working like a server running logs in the background.
Plan: map the village. Investigate the creature. Define trap. Ensure capture. Possible contract. Variable: minimum social acceptance.
Nothing here smelled like home.
But to him, everything was a variable.
Everything was data.
Everything could be explored.
Darin's house groaned with the wind, as if it had a life of its own—and not a friendly one.
The wood, swollen with moisture, creaked in protest with each stronger breeze.
The roof seemed to hold back the rain out of sheer stubbornness, with dark spots of leakage spreading like mold.
The smell was a mixture of poorly burnt smoke, old grease, dried manure stuck to everyone's boots, and an acidic note of mold.
Eren Vale sat in a corner, carefully resting his injured leg on the floor. He observed everything without apparent emotion, but his mind never stopped.
He mapped the environment as if it were a low-level dungeon—entries and exits, structural weak points, improvised furniture.
The door had two crooked locks, one held in place with a bent nail.
The window was boarded up, but cold wind slipped through the gaps, shaking the oil lamp.
In his previous world—as Lee Min-Jae in Seoul—his home was nothing like this. It was cold, almost clinical.
A rented room in a goshiwon: four square meters, metal bed with a thin mattress, desk against the wall, laptop, cords neatly wound to avoid crossing paths.
It was too quiet.
No sound of creaking wood, no laughter or cries from the room next door—or rather, no family to make such sounds.
He remembered the smell of heated plastic, the cheap paint peeling from the walls, the harsh white light of a fluorescent bulb.
Did he prefer that? Not exactly.
But he understood. There was no chaos there. No unpredictable organicity. There was no... life.
Eren brushed the thought away with a slow blink.
Unnecessary distraction. Emotional variable. Useless now.
He forced himself to focus on the present. Darin was slumped in a crooked chair, head in his hands. He seemed like a man trying to hold his skull together.
Mara moved around the room like a ghost, clutching the shawl to her chest, her deep eyes lined with red from sleepless nights.
And it was then that Eren noticed the child.
Small. Thin. Brown hair disheveled, full of knots. She carried a piece of rag that must have been a doll, the fabric stained with dirt and dried mosquito blood. She stayed behind her mother's leg, looking at Eren with huge, dark eyes like bottomless pits.
For a moment, he analyzed her face with the same coldness he applied to monsters. Height. Estimated weight. Signs of malnutrition. No weapon. No threat. Just... curiosity.
Nyssa wasn't helping at all.
The slime was close to Eren, but she couldn't help but squirm, emitting those damn damp plops with each move. She seemed even more alive and excited now that they were indoors—as a child forbidden to run in the corridor, trying to stay quiet and failing.
Eren saw Mara's face contort in disgust.
What... what is that? she thought as she finally noticed the monster girl.
Nyssa seemed to realize it, for she stopped at once, trying to press herself against the wall, her gelatinous "legs" trembling.
"M-master... sorry... I..." she whispered softly to Eren.
The plop escaped involuntarily, almost like a wet burp.
Mara took a step back, pulling her daughter with her.
"Is it a monster?" she asked Eren.
Eren took a deep breath and faced the woman with an annoyed, tedious look.
Social hostility detected. Source: appearance of the linked unit. Excessive sound behavior. Inappropriate attire.
He didn't feel shame. But he understood the problem.
His gaze traveled over Nyssa. The makeshift "dress" they'd fashioned during the journey—more a rag than a garment—didn't cover anything properly. Parts of her translucent body pulsed, suggesting overly feminine forms for the morals of that house. The gelatinous protrusions rose and fell as if reacting to tension.
Darin's daughter hid in her mother's shawl, eyes wide with terror.
Eren inhaled.
Unacceptable social tension variable. Mandatory correction.
Without saying anything, he leaned to the side, retrieved from his inventory a thick, dark fabric that absorbed light almost like a black hole. The Executor's cloak.
He held it up. The memory of the metallic smell of the former owner's blood came to mind, but he ignored it.
"Nyssa."
She trembled.
"Y-yes, master?"
"Put this on."
He tossed the cloak to her. She caught it, trembling even more.
Nyssa tucked herself in like a child afraid of punishment. The cloak was too large, covering her almost completely. Even with her gelatinous body trying to expand in some spots, the fabric molded efficiently, falling in heavy folds that hid any embarrassing detail.
More importantly: the plop diminished. The material was enchanted with silence.
Mara seemed to relax half a centimeter.
The daughter was peering at her again, still scared, but less terrified.
Nyssa finally curled up in a corner, looking at Eren with round, teary eyes.
"M-master... th-thank you..."
Eren merely nodded.
*Noise variable attenuated. Social decency restored. Passive hostility reduced.*
Darin raised his face, noting that Eren had covered the girl because of the family's hostility. He felt a bit embarrassed by this.
The silence stretched out. The wind hit the window, howling like a wounded animal.
Finally, Darin broke the ice:
"And... what now?"
"I'll lure it."
Darin frowned.
"What?"
"Me. Outside. Alone. I'll wait for it to come to me."
Mara, who had remained silent until then, gasped.
"Are you crazy?!"
Eren did not respond.
Darin stood up, banging his staff on the floor.
"You'll become food!"
Eren looked at him with surgical coolness.
"It wants to prey. I'm the bait."
Darin shook his head, stunned.
"You... you're insane?"
Eren didn't respond. He just stood up with effort, adjusting the bandage on his leg. He looked at Nyssa.
"Stay here. Keep out of the lady of the house's sight, she's not hostile to your presence."
She trembled and felt a bit shy, but didn't fail to express her words of care for the master:
"M-master... be careful..."
He just turned his back and opened the door.
The cold wind hit him like a blade, bringing the smell of mud, rotten leaves, and old fear. The moon struggled to emerge from behind thick clouds, creating a milky, diffused light.
Eren took a step outside.
Low temperature. Minimal noise. Medium visibility. Ideal environment for a predator. I am the anomaly.
He moved away from the door, letting it slam shut behind him.
Darin shouted something, muffled by the wind.
Eren didn't hear.
Or rather, he didn't care.
He stood in the middle of the muddy street of the dead village, breathing in the cold, sensing every sound, every variation in the wind.
And there he stayed.
Waiting.
Because he knew.
It was only a matter of time before something came after him.
────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────
Eren Vale was standing in the middle of the muddy street of Veilmoor, as still as a stone marker. The cold wind descended from the hills, tearing the silence with long, almost animal-like howls. He felt the heavy coat slap against his legs, the dried blood pulling at the bandaged wound.
The houses around were coffins of dark wood. No window showed light. No one dared to step outside. He was the only living thing out there or at least, the only one willing to expose himself.
Time passed.
Long. Painful in its slowness.
The sky changed gradually, with the clouds opening tiny gaps for a slender moon, casting pale stains on the wet ground. Insects buzzed in the corners, and the wind whistled between the houses like a distant laugh.
Eren breathed slowly, controlled.
Too long standing still. The script is simple: nocturnal predator. AI based on patience. Shouldn't attack quickly. Tests the victim. Checks for vulnerability.
He slowly turned his neck, cracking the vertebrae.
In real life, I'd be asleep now. Or trying. Even with instant coffee. By this time, I'd be blinking slowly, eyes burning on the screen. But here…
He exhaled.
Here I do not sleep. I do not feel sleepy. I do not feel conventional tiredness. I'm just a process running. Infinite loop of vigilance. Although I believe if this were part of the game, I'd end up receiving some debuff if I didn't sleep properly.
The boredom was almost physical. He felt his mind running checklists. Checking sounds in the wind. Cataloging shadow patterns. Counting heartbeats.
One, two hours passed. Maybe more.
At some point, he almost relaxed not really, but enough to call it a rest.
That's when he heard it.
A noise.
Subtle. Like claws scraping wet stone.
His eyes opened wider. Pupils dilated to capture every movement. He turned his torso slowly, like an animated post.
Directional sound. Low volume. Failed attempt at silence. Position…
He moved one step to the side.
Nothing.
Silence.
The wind changed direction, bringing the smell of wet earth and old smoke. Eren inhaled deeply.
Nothing.
But then came another sound. Closer. A crack.
He raised the machete.
Contact.
Out of nowhere a shadow.
Emerging from the left like a living shadow, advancing with a muffled growl. Two eyes glimmered with a yellow flash.
Eren spun on his heel, lifting his forearm to block. The impact was dry, brutal, throwing him half a meter to the side. He felt his arm protest with a crack.
His knife sliced through the air, grazing fur and skin. A squeal of pain.
But the shadow didn't continue.
Didn't try to bite.
Didn't finish the attack.
It jumped back with predatory agility, vanishing into the denser shadows between the houses.
Eren breathed heavily, feeling his arm throb.
Immediate retreat. Didn't want to finish. Hesitation. Intelligence or caution?
He turned slowly, the blade dripping with blood that wasn't his. He observed the ground. Deep tracks in the mud elongated fingers, claws.
Confirmation: bipedal structure. Partially human footprint. Estimated weight: 80–100 kilograms. Ability to jump. Ability to decide. Not purely animal.
He crouched, running his fingers through the cold mud. The smell was bittersweet iron and sweat.
Hesitated to bite. Non-lethal attack. Test or threat? Instinct of warning?
His eyes scanned the narrow alley where the shadow had disappeared. Nothing. Just the wind pushing dry leaves.
If it were a common wolf, it would finish. If it were a dumb monster, it wouldn't flee. Intelligence confirmed. Potentially contractible.
A thin, almost cruel smile appeared on his chapped lips.
He adjusted the coat over his wounded shoulder, took a deep breath to calm his racing pulse.
Its mistake was leaving me alive.
Without warning anyonethough there was no one awake to hearEren Vale began to walk in the direction where the figure had vanished.
His steps sank into the mud, growing ever quieter.
Forest. Of course. Natural refuge. Retreat point. Lair. I'll track. I'll find.
He didn't run. He didn't need to.
He was patient.
The wind swayed the bare branches like the arms of a corpse. The moon poorly illuminated, creating shadows that seemed to open their mouths in silent laughter.
Eren just continued.
Without hesitation.
Because to him, the monster was not just a danger.
It was an opportunity.
And he never wasted opportunities.