Chapter 513: Floro
"A bunch of carefree newbies."
On the hill overlooking the village, Lonely as Snow lit a cigarette, watching the enthusiastic new players with a sigh.
Once, he too was an ambitious rookie. Now, he was a seasoned tank.
Clad in heavy adamantine armor and wielding an absurdly large steam shotgun, Lonely as Snow made the ground tremble with each step—he was nothing short of a walking tank.
"Still, this mission doesn't seem easy."
"Bringing so many newbie players to the front lines… it sure feels like we're just cannon fodder."
He scratched his head and opened his task panel.
[Main Quest: Kill the Demons!]
[Demons have emerged from the Abyss, harboring hatred for all living things, spreading chaos and evil, seeking to drag the entire universe into disorder.
Their first target: the newly risen nation on the Anzeta Wasteland—Ember Empire.
In his fury, "Ember Emperor" Cassius has issued a summons, vowing to eradicate the demons at all costs. And you, Starborn, shall stand at the front lines as the first line of defense against the invasion.
Warriors, slay the demons!]
Quest Objective: Hold the line, kill the demons.
Quest Rewards: Players will earn faction contribution and gold based on the strength of the demons they defeat.
Notes:
Coward Demon = 5 faction contribution, 25 silver nars
Quasit = 20 faction contribution, 1 gold nar
Babau = 500 faction contribution, 20 gold nars
Floro Demon = 1500 contribution, 50 gold nars
One Balor Inferno Demon = 1.25 million faction contribution, 200,000 gold nars
As expected of the Empire—everything is listed clearly, rewards and all.
Seeing the generous rewards, Lonely as Snow's eyes lit up.
"Damn? This much?"
"If I manage to kill a Balor Inferno Demon, I'd be financially free!"
He wiped down the rough barrel of his steam shotgun while glancing toward the dense forest in the distance.
"Who cares if I'm cannon fodder? As long as I get contributions and gold, I'm in!"
In Leo Village, players were bustling with activity.
But they weren't fortifying defenses—instead, they were looting. Or rather, enjoying the fine RPG tradition of "free shopping."
"A chest! Open it up!"
"What the hell, just a plain iron hoe? What's this good for?"
"And this—some widow's undergarments from the east side of the village. Who the hell wants this?"
"What about the cupboard?"
"Organic pulp and half a loaf of black bread? Seriously? They hid this like it was treasure?"
"Check the basement—I refuse to believe there's nothing good here!"
"Smash that jar! I can feel a jackpot coming!"
"A hidden artifact? No… wait, it's just a pickled cucumber!"
In just ten minutes, the entire village had been turned upside down. Every cabinet and cellar had been ransacked, and players were even trying to pry up the floorboards in search of loot.
Unfortunately, all they found were ordinary household goods—anything of value had already been taken by the evacuated villagers.
The result left the players deeply disappointed.
"Damn, shouldn't there be a demon-slaying artifact hidden in a villager's house?"
"At the very least, we should have found a few hundred gold coins!"
"Come on, Erezaghe is all about realism. Think about it—does your average village back home have AK-47s lying around?"
"Hmph, I still believe the devs left some hidden goodies. I'm searching again!"
"Bang!"
A door was kicked open.
A newbie player wearing simple cloth garments, nicknamed [Breeze], enthusiastically shouted, "Open up, room inspection!"
"What the—"
He raised his hands and gave a military salute.
Sitting inside was an old man smoking a cigarette, leveling a hunting rifle at him with steely eyes that seemed ready to pull the trigger at any moment.
This was Old White's house.
Starborn, demons, or whoever else—it made no difference. This was his home, and anyone who dared intrude would face his wrath.
Staring down the barrel of the gun, Breeze stood frozen in place, cold sweat dripping down his forehead.
This villager was armed and dangerous!
He kept his hands up, forcing a stiff smile. "Old man, this is a misunderstanding! I thought the place was empty, or I wouldn't have barged in. If I'd known you were here…"
White nudged the barrel slightly and said, "Get out. Tell them—no one is allowed in my house! Otherwise… my bullets don't have eyes."
"Aha, I won't bother you then. I'll just be leaving now."
Breeze let out a nervous laugh, nodding repeatedly before bolting outside.
"Bang."
The door shut gently.
White lowered his gun. His hands had trembled slightly, but he hadn't shown any fear in that tense standoff.
He had mentally prepared himself, but these so-called "undying warriors" were still a mystery to him.
"So these Starborn aren't much after all."
However, for some reason, he was growing uneasy—the number of shadows gathering outside was increasing, and their chatter was completely incomprehensible to him.
"I heard there's an old guy with a gun in there?"
"Maybe he's a hidden NPC? Someone should try talking to him again."
"What if he's a reclusive master, the type who gives you an epic sword if you complete his quest?"
"Damn, you might be onto something. This village is abandoned and about to be invaded by demons—there's definitely something fishy here!"
"That means… he could be a secret boss who fights demons solo!"
"Creak—"
The door slowly opened.
Old White immediately gripped his hunting rifle, his nerves tensing.
To his surprise, a smiling face appeared in the doorway: "Sir, do you need any help?"
Old White hesitated for a moment before testing, "Go gather some firewood?"
"Got it!"
The player cheerfully accepted the task and left immediately.
"You, fix the village bridge."
"You, grind some flour."
"You, cook."
"You..."
One by one, players left, and Old White became increasingly adept at assigning tasks, smoothly sending them off with casual instructions.
In the players' minds, however, this was clearly the mark of a confident hidden NPC.
When Old White finarly stepped out of his house and stopped giving tasks, those who hadn't received one were deeply disappointed, while those who had walked off proudly.
"This is Erezaghe! Opportunities like this don't come twice!"
"Sir, please give out another task!"
"Damn, I've been waiting in line forever!"
"Please, just one more task!"
So, this was what the Starborn were like? Were they all this "helpful"?
Hearing the players calling out behind him, White sneezed, muttering to himself.
"I've lived this long, and I've never seen people fight over chores before."
"What a bunch of weirdos."
Old White slung his rifle over his shoulder and walked toward the southern forest.
"Hopefully, I can get a deer today. If not, at least a rabbit."
He spoke to himself.
Every day at this time, he went into the woods to hunt. He had been doing it for decades—it was a routine ingrained into him.
Following the familiar path, Old White entered the depths of the forest.
"Rustle..."
A faint rustling sound arose.
Old White glanced around warily, frowning.
"Something... is off."
He murmured.
It was a hunter's instinct.
He had walked this path a thousand times. He knew every tree and stone by heart—entering the forest was like stepping into his own home.
But today, something felt different.
The leaves and undergrowth seemed to glow with a murky sheen. The branches reached out like withered arms, as if trying to grasp him.
Vines, like writhing serpents, coiled around the branches, dangling ominously, a few nearly brushing against White's shoulders.
The forest was eerily silent—too silent. Not a single birdcall.
"Caw, caw, caw..."
A group of unnaturally large crows flapped past, their raucous cries echoing through the woods, casting chaotic shadows below.
Old White looked up, staring at the birds, a strange sensation creeping over him—they were watching him.
Their eyes gleamed eerily in the darkness, filled with an unsettling mirth, gluttonous hunger—a gaze that assessed fresh prey.
Looking closer, White noticed jagged, exposed fangs protruding from their beaks, still stained with dried blood.
"Damn it, those aren't crows!"
"They're monsters!"
Old White gasped, his grip on the rifle trembling slightly, but his experienced hands quickly leveled it at the creatures.
"Bang!"
"Caw, caw, caw..."
A loud gunshot rang out.
The "crows" flapped wildly, their shrill cries piercing the still air as they vanished into the forest's shadows, leaving only a few black feathers drifting down.
The feathers touched the ground, instantly corroding the soil, leaving deep, sinister pits where they landed.
"What... is happening here?"
White's face turned pale, sweat soaking his back as he stared down the path he had walked so many times.
The forest—this familiar forest—felt utterly foreign now. And it terrified him.
The vines swayed in the breeze, resembling severed arms suspended midair. An overwhelming, twisted malice pressed in from all directions, making Old White's heart pound.
"Rustle..."
The leaves rustled. A vague shadow flickered through the trees, just within White's sharp field of vision.
"Who's there?"
He spun around, rifle raised, only to find nothing—just the eerily transformed forest.
He stood still, pulling a cigarette from his pocket with unsteady fingers, lighting it with a trembling hand.
"Hah—"
"Calm down... don't panic."
Suddenly, White held his breath, body going rigid.
Instinctively, his grip on the rifle tightened, sweat making the wooden stock feel damp and sticky in his palm.
Because in front of him, on the ground, a massive shadow had appeared—a set of spread, monstrous wings.
A hunter as seasoned as White could tell at a glance—it wasn't a vulture, nor an eagle, nor any bird he had ever seen in Anzeta.
Given the circumstances, there was only one possibility—A demon.
"That's..."
Old White stiffly turned his head, eyes widening, mouth gaping in shock. The cigarette slipped from his lips, falling to the ground.
It was a gaunt, humanoid creature with patches of exposed skin, some areas covered in black fur, and razor-sharp claws on all four limbs.
Jet-black wings spread wide behind it, casting a massive shadow that engulfed Old White entirely.
Most terrifying of all was its head—a decayed crow's skull, its dull, lifeless eyes glinting with a twisted grin and cruel intent.
—It was a Floro Demon.
In Old White's eyes, the creature before him defied his understanding. Its grotesque, misshapen body radiated a chaotic aura, and merely looking at it filled him with overwhelming malice.
"D-Demon!"
Overwhelmed by fear, Old White mustered his last ounce of courage and pulled the trigger.
"Bang!"
A gunshot rang out, and black feathers drifted to the ground.
The Floro Demon effortlessly dodged the bullet with a beat of its wings, closing in on Old White.
Its fanged beak parted slightly, the grotesque, wrinkled throat producing a low, guttural voice.
"Human."
"How pitiful. Your resistance is nothing more than the bleating of a lamb before slaughter—fragile, futile."
Old White collapsed to the ground, scrambling backward on all fours, desperate to escape. "No, no, you monster—"
His survival instinct had reached its peak.
"I-I need to get back..."
Old White forced himself up, running blindly down the familiar path, heedless of anything else.
"Caw! Caw! Caw!"
A swarm of corrupted crows burst from the forest, their shrill cries filling the air as they chased after him like a black tidal wave.
Vines and branches twisted unnaturally, blocking his escape and slashing wounds across his body.
"Kekekeke..."
"Run, flee with all your might—only to die in absolute terror."
A chilling, rasping voice echoed through the woods.
The Floro Demon hovered above, its massive shadow looming over the desperate human below.
"Heh... Humans are so weak. Lord Jezal Slak's task is laughably simple."
The Floro Demon reveled in its game.
It loved playing cat and mouse, watching its prey die in sheer panic—or better yet, collapse from fright alone.
And this human's flight would lead it straight to a human settlement, where it could begin a massacre that would shake the entire Empire.
"Let them taste true fear."
The Floro Demon anticipated it eagerly.
It knew humans well—when faced with the Abyss, they cowered like lambs to the slaughter.
It could already imagine the terrified screams, the anguished cries as it devoured them whole.
Soon, Old White was covered in wounds, his flesh mangled. Chaos energy had already begun rotting his exposed skin.
But at last, he saw the forest's edge—the first light of hope.
Ahead lay Leo Village.
His home.
Staggering forward, Old White tried to take another step, but a corrupted crow swooped in, tearing a chunk of flesh from his leg and swallowing it greedily.
"Thud."
He collapsed, unable to move any further.
He was barely recognizable as human anymore, but one thought still kept him going.
The Starborn had to kill this demon—the monster that had defiled his land, twisted his once-familiar forest into a nightmare.
Summoning his finar breath, Old White cried out, "De—mon—!"
The Floro Demon sneered, flapping its wings. "Do you think it matters? They cannot escape. Your loved ones, your friends will all be consumed by the Abyss."
"Your wife will be torn apart by claws. Your child will be shredded by fangs. Your friends will have their eyes pecked out. And you—"
"Heh, I will make you watch every moment of it."
But the village did not erupt in screams or panicked fleeing as the Floro Demon had expected.
Instead, hundreds of players surged from all directions, wielding outdated muskets and clad in crude cloth garments.
Their faces bore no fear—only unrestrained excitement, like hunters spotting prime prey.
"Holy shit! A boss fight!"
"It's a Floro Demon!"
"That thing's worth 1,500 contribution and 50 gold nars! Whoever lands the kill gets rich!"
"Brothers, let's get that bag!"
"For the Empire!"
The smirk on the Floro Demon's face froze, then gradually faded—something was very wrong.
Why were these reckless humans treating an Abyssal demon like this?
They were supposed to fear it!
Enraged, the Floro Demon opened its fanged beak, voice seething with malice: "Fools, you do not comprehend the power before—"
"Bang!"
A gunshot rang out.
One player muttered, "Damn thing talks too much. Let's kill it already. It's annoying."
"Seriously, it sounds like nails on a chalkboard."
"Shut up and shoot! I need that gold!"
The Floro Demon's fury exploded. "You insolent—"
"Bang! Bang!"
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
In an instant, gunfire erupted. Bullets rained down like a storm, hundreds of players all unloading their shots at the airborne demon.
"Disgusting creature..."
Old White let out a finar, mocking laugh before collapsing motionless.
And so, the battle between players and demon truly began.