Ash's casual response made it clear he had no interest in bothering with Aura. The old village chief froze in hesitation, caught in an awkward dilemma, unsure of what to say.
But Ash paid him no mind. He stood, brushed himself off, and walked straight back toward the village without so much as a backward glance.
"Don't worry too much," he said over his shoulder. "If that girl gets hungry enough, she'll come out on her own."
"Is… that so?" the chief asked uncertainly.
"That's it."
Ash gave a shrug, unwilling to explain further, and continued on to the house the villagers had built for them the previous year.
Along the way, the villagers greeted him with nervous but sincere smiles. Inside the house, food was already set out on the rough wooden dining table. The middle-aged woman in charge of cooking was just about to leave. When she noticed Ash, she smiled and nodded politely.
"The weather's getting colder these days, Master Ash, Master Aura," she said kindly. "Best to enjoy the fresh air while you can."
"Thanks."
Ash only nodded faintly, then sat down at the table to eat alone. He had no intention of calling Aura. If he disturbed her now, she'd only get angry.
The meal was simple but filling: coarse bread, homemade cheese, freshly roasted meat, and crisp vegetables. It wasn't luxurious, but compared to their savage, feral life in the past, it was a feast.
Ash ate in silence, his face expressionless, but in his eyes lingered a quiet contentment. The tranquility of the moment pleased him more than he let show.
Yet beneath the calm atmosphere, as dusk spread its shadow across the room, there was a faint, unshakable sense of storm on the horizon.
Outside, the wind picked up, rustling the leaves as though nature itself was whispering warnings.
Ash knew well enough that problems were bound to arise between humans and demons living side by side. The only uncertainty was when.
For now, though, he set the thought aside, losing himself in the quiet meal, determined to savor the peace while it lasted.
The problem did come, late one afternoon in autumn. But it wasn't the problem he had imagined.
The late autumn sun shone softly, carrying a hint of warmth despite the cool air. The sky was a deep, endless blue with wisps of white cloud drifting lazily across it.
Farmers worked in the distance, busy with the harvest. Nearby, cows and sheep grazed contentedly, while birds and insects sang in the fields.
It was a picture of such perfect peace that Ash couldn't resist lying back on a haystack, basking in the sun, slipping into a nap.
But his half-dreaming rest was suddenly broken by a sharp kick to the shoulder.
Opening his eyes, he saw Aura standing over him. She was eighteen now, though she hadn't changed much. Her brows were drawn together in a troubled frown.
"Stop sleeping," she said curtly. "Something's wrong."
"What do you mean?" Ash muttered.
"The demon wolf we left working with the hunters—it's been killed."
"…Oh?"
Ash sat up, uncertain whether the culprit was human, beast, or perhaps other demons. The wind carried with it the scent of wheat and flowers—but beneath it, faint and unmistakable, was the smell of blood.
His sharp ears soon caught the thunder of hooves and distant panicked cries. He leapt to his feet and looked toward the commotion.
From the far edge of the fields rode a troop of cavalry, weapons stained with blood.
The banner they carried bore the crest of the Kingdom of Telton—sworn enemies of the Kingdom of Tad, where Ash and Aura now lived.
The cavalry, moving like raiders along the borderlands, were fully armed, using guerrilla tactics under the guise of hunting beasts.
On the spear of the leading horseman hung the broken body of someone Ash knew: Julius, the young hunter. A war orphan, he had fled here seeking peace, only to be dragged back into the cycle of violence.
"You always wanted to escape the war," Ash murmured softly, eyes narrowing. "But even now… you couldn't. How pitiful."
He sighed, calm but cold, as the village chief stumbled up, trembling, and pressed a sword into his hand.
"P-please, Master Ash… protect us!" the old man begged, his voice shaking with panic.
"…I'll do what I can."
Ash knew well what war meant in this age. Wars had no bottom line—not that they ever truly did. But here, it was barefaced: pillage, rape, massacre. Border villages like this were easy prey, their slaughter meant to spread terror, break economies, and sap morale.
Such cruelty was nothing unusual. Yet here, the sight of demons and monsters standing guard over humans gave the scene a strange, twisted irony.
"Demons in a village? And this many beasts…" The officer leading the troop of thirty cavalry frowned as his eyes fell on Ash, Aura, and the creatures surrounding the village.
At his side, a court magician sneered, pointing toward them. "No problem, Lord Maynard. That demon and the mage with him are weaklings. Those beasts are nothing special either—just common species in this region. Our numbers alone will crush them."
"…Are the demons keeping humans captive, or are the humans keeping the demons captive?" Maynard muttered with disdain. Then, without further thought, he raised his sword and gave the order:
"—Kill them all!"
"Eat them," Aura commanded coldly.
Her voice carried no fear, only the hardened calm of one who had survived countless forest battles. At her word, the puppeted beasts and monsters surged forward.
The cavalry's iron hooves thundered across the fields, dust rising into the air. And from the village's edge, the herds of controlled beasts charged to meet them.