The chief's collapse left the group shaken, but Lucian's sharp gaze did not waver. He crouched beside the man, his hand hovering just above the chief's chest without touching.
"…Residual mana. This wasn't his own doing. A defense mechanism was placed on him—the moment he revealed too much, it triggered."
Lucian muttered, his tone grim.
The villagers, who had gathered nervously around, recoiled at his words. Fear spread quickly across their ashen faces.
"Are we… cursed, then?"
One whispered.
Lucian straightened, his expression cold.
"Not cursed but controlled. And if you continue serving the demoness who calls herself Merci, you'll end up like your chief. Or worse. You'll perish under her rule."
The murmur of panic rose into desperate voices. One villager stepped forward, his hands trembling.
"We know… we know what she is. But what choice do we have? Merci protects us. We don't have the strength to break her hold. Without her, we'd freeze or starve in this snow."
