I stood some distance away from the guild building.
The clock hands seemed reluctant to move, their position suspended somewhere between seven and eight.
Its dull stone walls reflected the noon sunlight.
My gaze never left the crowd drifting back and forth in front of the guild, adventurers with swords hanging at their waists, bows jutting from their backs, tarnished armor throwing off broken glimmers. Footsteps, clanking metal, and forced laughter mingled in the hot air.
Every time the wooden door opened, my eyes instinctively swept over the faces going in and out, searching for a single figure among them.
The image of the goblin cave surfaced on its own—its soil damp, its stone walls cold, the stench of moisture lingering in my breath.
Its corridors seemed to stretch out behind my eyelids.
The door opened again. A man stepped out.
His shoulders slumped.
His gaze was hollow.
His lips were pressed tightly shut.
He descended the steps with heavy movements, dragging out a long breath. He walked straight toward me or perhaps he meant to pass me by.
His face felt familiar.
Ah… I finally remembered. He was the novice I'd seen before I left Hochburg.
From this distance, it was hard to recognize him.
"That's him."
His thin body moved forward with his head lowered. I stepped half a pace ahead and cut into his path—thud!—his shoulder struck my chest, his breath cut short, his step halted instantly.
"Ah… s-sorry—" The words stopped when his eyes caught my face. His pupils constricted, his breath dragged harshly. "D… Demon… H-Hunter…!" He stumbled down, bowing deeply, his shoulders trembling as he prostrated himself.
Whispers lashed out.
A short laugh.
Hisses of disapproval.
Several faces froze mid-step, helmets turning, hands covering mouths to restrain comments that were never truly restrained. Intimidating words passed among the onlookers, like daggers quietly slicing at the ears.
That mysterious hooded figure, still staring at me.
That person… who are they?!
Our eyes met. For an instant, they turned away and vanished from my sight.
"Tch! Get up, that's embarrassing!"
"I—I didn't mean to bump into you. Please forgive me."
I bowed slightly. My palm touched his shoulder; he stiffened—sreet!—I hooked him and pulled him upright. His body jolted lightly.
I brought my face closer. "Can you stop drawing attention?! Be quiet and follow me." My voice was lowered just for him.
"I-I'm sorry, Mr. Demon Hunter."
"I said be quiet and just follow me!"
I walked away from the guild building toward the center of the city. Another set of footsteps followed from behind, never quite close. People's gazes flickered each time I passed; their heads barely moved, their eyes slanted like thieves.
The city's roar slowly faded as we entered a row of old buildings. That was when the sharp scent of heated metal struck, warm and mixed with soot. Gray smoke poured from chimneys, rolled by the wind, and broke apart in the noon sky.
Ahead of us stood a low building, its walls blackened by charcoal. Hammer blows rang out from inside, heavy and steady, like an iron heart beating.
Above the wooden door hung a dull signboard reading: Gordon's Blacksmith Shop.
I stopped for a moment. Flashing memories passed with the scent of charcoal, the first sparks, a young blade still imperfect, a short laugh from an old, burly dwarf whose hands were always coated in soot, the man who forged my sword when I first began all of this.
Without a word, I pushed the door open.
The heat of embers greeted me as I stepped inside. Sparks leaped briefly before dying in the air.
"Hey, old man," I said bluntly. "You never get tired of forging, huh?"
The hammer in his hand stopped mid-swing. The dwarf slowly turned. His beard fell to his chest, thick and tangled, his body short, but his arms bulged like iron blocks veined with muscle.
"Hah…" he clicked his tongue, his lips curling into a sneer. "What do you want here, you country brat?!"
His heavy voice was briefly drowned out by the next clang of metal.
Behind me, the young man didn't utter a word, his steps halted at the threshold. His eyes followed us, listening silently, caught between the heat of embers and low-flying curses.
Beyond the roar of fire and the ringing of Gordon's hammer lay a room hidden from outsiders' view. That room had become my base—a place where I hid from the public eye that constantly watched the capital's residents.
Even without Gordon's blessing, the space had slowly become mine. It was there I extracted information from Graham and arranged future plans, more often than in my guild room.
I opened the room. Inside, it was dim. The smell of charcoal mixed with old paper. The table was filled with maps and notes, chairs left untidy as if the last conversation hadn't truly ended. Gordon said nothing. The hammer's rhythm continued, in time with the fire.
I pulled the young man inside.
The door closed softly, and the outside world vanished.
Though the hammer strikes were still audible, each blow now sounded faint.
The wooden chair creaked as I pulled it out. Fine dust trembled atop the battered table, carved with knife marks and ember scars.
The young man sat stiffly in front of me, his fingers gripping the hem of his clothes, knuckles whitening. Cold sweat trickled from his temple, even though the room wasn't as hot as the forge.
I leaned forward slightly, my shadow covering half his face.
My gaze stabbed into him.
"In that goblin cave," I said low, weighing every word. "What did you actually see?"
He swallowed. His eyes fixed on the floor, his fingers gripping his clothes until they paled. His breath hitched, as if he feared every word that left my mouth.
"Ahh… I-I thought you were going to eat me."
I lowered my head slightly, leaning closer. His sweat carried a faint scent, mixed with charcoal.
"I don't like small talk," I said, pressing every word. "I do have business with you… because the rumor is your party died there."
His body trembled. He bowed lower, shoulders shaking. His breathing reached my ears, fast and uneven.
"Hey. Don't bow, just say it!"
"P-Please… I don't want to remember all of that." He bit his lip, his pale face shining with fear.
I drew a long breath, staring without blinking. "A Demon, huh? Just say it. As you know, I hunt them."
His eyes widened, the irises that had been hidden now gleaming in the dim light. His voice was nearly a whisper, trembling, but resolve began to surface. "If I tell you everything… can you avenge my friends?"
"Who do you think I am?"
The young man stared at me, his eyes shining.
"Mr. Demon Hunter… actually, that cave isn't like what adventurers say. It wasn't suitable for a beginner like me. Something strange happened to the goblins."
Black mana, huh? Of course a Demon could grant that to monster races.
I furrowed my brow, holding back the hammer's clang behind us as tension's background music.
"What do you mean?"
"They spoke like humans and worshiped a Demon over and over." Firelight reflected in his eyes. His voice trembled slightly, but it was clearer now. "Not only that… they thought like humans, fought with intelligence, not like the wild Demons we know. They stood upright."
I stared at him silently, my thoughts beginning to assemble suffocating fragments of information.
No way a powerful Demon was controlling goblins. Ah… so that's how it is!
"That's enough. Let's wrap this up. I've confirmed what I needed."
I took out a pouch of coins and placed it on the table right in front of him.
"Take this. Keep your mouth shut about me. The state is extremely strict about Demon affairs—who knows what they're hiding."
He stared at me deeply.
"Mr. Demon Hunter… since my friends perished, money doesn't mean anything anymore. Take me with you there."
"Just take it and go home."
"My name is Gerrard. I won't take this money but I will come back here."
Gerrard stared at me a few seconds longer, his fingers still gripping the hem of his clothes.
His breathing began to steady, but a wary aura still clung around him.
Without another word, he stood stiffly, leaving the coin pouch on the table, then walked toward the door.
I lowered my head slightly, my eyes fixed on his back as he crossed the threshold.
Each step Gerrard took stirred a bit of fine dust that trembled in the air. His breathing was still audible, but steadier now.
The wooden door creaked as he opened it, then closed softly behind him.
The sounds of the outside world, metal bars, footsteps, hammering, slowly crept back into the room, yet still felt distant.