Bedford City, Lord's Manor.
Charon stood before the floor-to-ceiling window, sunlight spilling across his figure. He was in a good mood—clearly pleased by what he had just heard.
"Stan, the adventurers have located the demons ahead of schedule. That's quite unexpected," he said, not bothering to turn around, unwilling to let the horn-helmed mercenary see his expression.
"…Much earlier than predicted."
The mercenary named Stan stared at Charon's back, his voice low and tightly restrained.
"Yes, much earlier," Charon replied calmly. "Those of your kin you want gone didn't even get the chance to accomplish anything significant."
He continued evenly, "Just like we agreed at the beginning—you'll go lend a hand. After all, I can't have my soldiers crossing into another noble's territory without permission. Negotiations would only waste precious time."
Stan watched him in silence for a moment before speaking again, his tone heavy.
"If you're dissatisfied with my plan, say it outright. Don't pull these little tests again."
"Mm-hm."
Charon's response sounded like acknowledgment—and nothing more.
Once Stan departed with heavy footsteps echoing down the corridor, Charon finally let his stiff shoulders relax and muttered to himself:
"Looks like he can tolerate a little overstepping."
From the very beginning, the demon remnant Charon had mentioned to Darrick was the Frog-Head. He knew exactly where those creatures were hiding.
It was also Charon who had deliberately leaked information about the Cangyin Dungeon to Luluwo, subtly guiding her group into clearing it.
The purpose was simple—lead adventurers into discovering the demons on their own.
Charon had gone through so much trouble because his views differed slightly from Stan's.
Stan was a strange demon. He claimed to be different from ordinary demons, calling those who lost themselves at the sight of blood "defective products." For reasons unknown, he was obsessed with hunting these so-called defectives.
What he wanted was simple: kill defective demons. If possible, he even hoped to cultivate a human organization to assist him in the hunt.
They were aligned when it came to developing the Farron Guard, but diverged on other matters—such as when to reap Frog-Head.
At his core, Stan possessed a barbarian's love for battle. Rumor had it this stemmed from the fact that his parents had devoured many barbarian warriors before he was born.
Because of that, Stan wanted to wait until Frog-Head had bathed in the blood of Springday City, grown powerful, and then fight him in a glorious, climactic battle.
"As if I'd ever allow that."
Charon gazed toward the distant outline of Springday City and murmured, "Before being your collaborator, I am first and foremost a human."
"Humans cannot stand by and watch their own kin become nourishment for demons."
His expression was righteous—so much so that if anyone from the Aster Alliance were present, they might even absolve his crime of collaborating with demons and give him a thumbs-up.
Yet beneath his clothes, Charon's back was soaked with cold sweat.
His little tricks had clearly been seen through. Fortunately, the other party hadn't pressed the issue. Perhaps future negotiations would require a different approach.
In this cooperation, Charon was actually at a disadvantage. He needed Stan—but Stan didn't necessarily need him.
That was precisely why even guiding Luluwo to discover Frog-Head's trail had taken Charon so long to decide.
He had already prepared himself to immediately back down if Stan grew angry—but instead…
"Didn't expect that guy to be so easygoing."
Charon finally exhaled in relief.
(***)
Luluwo took a deep breath.
"Ais, can you track it?"
Beside her, Ais—who had temporarily transformed herself into a canine beastman through magic—was vigorously sniffing the demon remains. Hearing Luluwo's question, she nodded firmly.
"Good."
Luluwo reached out and patted her head, earning a blissfully content expression in return.
Three hours had passed since their call with Darrick. During that time, they had rested properly and set out again in peak condition to search for the demons.
The tracking magic Ais and Aim could use required a lost item belonging to the target. Clearly, demon remains didn't qualify.
So they resorted to a simpler, cruder method—turning Ais into a beastman with an exceptionally sharp sense of smell.
She had initially resisted.
Back in Sein Dungeon, she had transformed once before—an experience that left her with serious psychological trauma.
After all, dogs really don't change certain habits—and both the Fran Fortress and forest regions had been full of monsters that left behind… things.
Magically transformed beastmen had flaws. Sometimes, they couldn't fully control their instincts.
Ais would never forget herself gleefully chasing Peach-Fur Beasts, Guardian Apes, and other foul-smelling monsters back then—footage Luluwo had thoughtfully recorded using a memory crystal.
This time, however, her hatred of demons helped her overcome that shadow.
Ais led the way while the rest of the new expedition team spread out behind her, deliberately avoiding the appearance of a large group.
Luluwo's expression practically screamed troubled thoughts. What was supposed to be a boring dungeon clear had suddenly escalated into a demon-hunting incident.
Come to think of it—could the demons hiding in Springday City be the same ones that escaped after the fall of Val City?
If so, the coincidence was absurd.
She glanced at the sinking sun. Night would be ideal for action—but demons might also choose nighttime for unspeakable deeds.
Her goal was simple: locate the demons, preferably determine their numbers and strength. Direct confrontation was never part of the plan.
This was the Farron Guard's stage.
Though never said aloud, Luluwo—an avid drama enthusiast—had long since transferred her obsession with fate from the theater to reality.
When she learned that survivors of Val City had formed the Farron Guard, swearing vengeance against demons, that overwhelming sense of destiny had nearly intoxicated her.
"My role is to build a grand stage for them."
As she pondered this, the scenery around them grew increasingly desolate.
They passed the main district, then the residential area, and finally arrived at the place where darkness most easily took root—the slums.
Every city had one.
In the novels and plays she had read, demons often emerged from places like this—dark, cold, violent.
In reality, thanks to reforms enacted by the previous king, most cities had implemented governance measures. While they couldn't change people's lives, they enforced sanitation, patrols, and order.
Springday City had done fairly well.
The slums didn't stink. Though bleak, they were clean and orderly.
Children were even playing in the streets—something impossible in truly lawless districts.
"Are they hiding here?" Luluwo frowned, sensing something amiss.
"Given Springday City's nature," Belto suddenly spoke, "most residents work in agriculture. These slum dwellers are mostly tenant farmers—regular routines, familiar faces."
"And there haven't been many outsiders lately. Anyone new would stand out. Look at how people are staring at us—if strangers were common, they wouldn't react like this."
Luluwo nodded. "So you're saying the demons are either hiding without revealing themselves… or disguising themselves as locals?"
"Exactly, Captain."
Demons had already demonstrated the ability to take human form in Bedford City—or perhaps humans had been transformed into demons. No one knew for certain.
But turning back into humans after demonification supposedly left one mentally deficient.
How were they hiding so well?
"Woof—Captain, found it. Same scent."
Ais suddenly stopped.
Following her outstretched finger, everyone saw—
A middle-aged man playing hopscotch with children.
The kids kept calling him "Dad," their interactions affectionate and natural.
An ordinary person might hesitate.
Luluwo did not.
The moment Ais pointed him out, he was marked as an enemy.
The new expedition team trusted each other unconditionally.
"Monitor him. Find the others."
They didn't need to understand how the disguise worked—only to follow the trail.
All of this had to be completed within three days.
Because at most, three days later, the Farron Guard would arrive.
When Darrick made that promise, Luluwo had been stunned.
Three days riding wolves from Bedford City—were those wolves part griffin or something?
Darrick had sounded utterly confident, and Luluwo believed him. If he was that motivated, she would do her part too.
That night, the team spread throughout the slums. Some monitored the man; others searched for additional suspects.
Count Charon had said the demons were few—perhaps all hiding here.
The first night passed uneventfully.
The man got up once, and Luluwo thought he might slip away—but he was only searching for food for his hungry child.
Watching the father and son gnaw at stale bread beneath the starlight, faint smiles on their faces, Luluwo's brow never relaxed.
The next day followed a normal routine—work at a farm outside the city, return at dusk with discarded corn.
Luluwo recorded everyone he encountered—even brief eye contact.
That night, they ate boiled corn and slept soundly.
The following day was the same.
Belto reported other individuals carrying demon scent—but all behaved normally.
The situation grew increasingly eerie.
By now, Luluwo was even considering leaving a few silver coins by the man's bedside if he proved innocent.
She saw echoes of herself and her grandmother in them.
Then—
Creak.
The door opened.
Another hungry night? Luluwo glanced over—
—and instantly tensed.
The man stepped forward stiffly, eyes vacant, like someone under soul-stealing magic.
There it is.
She spared a glance at the sleeping child, a flicker of hesitation crossing her eyes, before silently following.
Her figure melted into the night.
Doors opened throughout the slums—one after another.
Each time, another dazed figure emerged.
The team regrouped swiftly. Every target displayed the same abnormality.
At least twenty people wandered the streets in a trance.
Their destination aligned.
The dungeon.
They slipped through hidden sewers, evaded patrols, soaked and shivering as they headed toward Cangyin Dungeon.
The dungeon hadn't closed yet, but the area was deserted—only a few torches flickered in the darkness.
Luluwo stopped.
Ahead of the sleepwalkers stood several figures clad in black robes, faces concealed.
Not human.
The stench of demons nearly pierced the sky.
"So only this many?" the lead robed figure croaked.
"Short notice," another replied. "The rest remain in the city."
There are more in Springday City!?
"That's fine," the leader said coldly. "Their lives are in my hands. One command, and they'll become perfect bombs—even if I fall."
The team exchanged glances. At Luluwo's signal, Belto and Ais sprinted back toward the city.
"They're hidden well. I doubt anyone can find them—but if they do," the figure sneered, "I'll blow them sky-high and flush out every rat lurking in the dark."
He raised his head—
A grotesque frog's face stared straight at Luluwo.
"Care to explode, little mouse?"
So he noticed us. I knew it.
Luluwo leapt onto a treetop, gazing down at him.
She was about to speak—
"Kill them!" Frog-Head roared.
He raised a round, crimson sphere.
If Wade were present, he would recognize it instantly—
A Fallen Demon Egg.
In the next instant, every sleepwalker twisted into a monstrous abomination, their howls tearing through the night.
Luluwo stared at the mountain of flesh that had once been a father—Her eyes colder than ice.