Allen had already raised Xal'atath, Blade of the Black Empire.
The dagger pointed straight at the forehead of the largest kobold leading the group.
"Little kobold…"
His voice was low and calm, carrying a strange rhythm: "Your candle… has gone out."
Mind Blast!
Invisible shadow energy surged out from the blade, like a massive unseen hand, violently clutching the kobold's head.
Its head exploded like an overripe watermelon, blood splattering everywhere. The headless corpse swayed twice before crashing to the ground.
The remaining kobolds froze for half a second.
Then they dropped their weapons and scattered in all directions, vanishing into the woods and tall grass in the blink of an eye.
"Ahhh—! Boss Goldtooth is dead!"
"Run! That evil human warlock is here!!"
"Help!!!"
Xal'atath's long-unheard voice suddenly echoed in Allen's mind, her tone laced with undisguised displeasure: "From now on, you are not allowed to use me to kill those filthy lowly creatures."
Allen ignored her. Watching the fleeing kobolds, he shouted toward their retreating backs: "Run, little kobolds, run! If you dare set foot here again, your candles will all belong to me!"
His voice echoed across the lake and hills, startling a flock of water birds into flight.
He sheathed the dagger and turned back to his stunned companions, shrugging as if nothing had happened.
No helping it—Allen's current offensive spells were all shadow-based.
"Let's go. We're going inside."
Afraid they might have frightened the resident, Allen didn't approach. Instead, they sent the most upright-looking one—Morgan—to knock on the door.
Morgan straightened the Holy Light insignia on his chest and knocked gently.
"Lady Heleni, I am a paladin of the Church of the Holy Light. The kobolds have been driven off. It is safe now—you may open the door."
Silence lingered behind the door for a moment, before a trembling, weak female voice responded: "Y-you… you… are you with that dark wizard from just now?"
Morgan fell silent. He wasn't good at lying.
"We… are indeed together. But please believe me—he is a good person. I swear it in the name of the Holy Light."
Hearing that, Allen actually felt a bit moved. Morgan was willing to swear in the name of the Holy Light for him—even if it would probably end in disappointment.
Another long silence followed.
At last, the wooden door slowly creaked open.
A red-haired woman stood behind it, her face gaunt, her figure thin, her eye sockets sunken.
"Who… are you?"
Allen stepped forward. "I am Allen Prestor, a noble from Alterac. If you've read the newspapers recently, you might have heard my name. We were sent by Sheriff Dughan to help you."
The red-haired woman shook her head blankly.
"Allen Prestor? Never heard of you…"
…Must be because she lives too remotely. No newspapers.
Allen smiled gently and took out the token given to him by the king, waving it briefly in front of her.
"This is a royal token personally granted by His Majesty. We are a special task force sent by the crown—the 'Women's Protection League,' here specifically to help women like you…" He paused. "…women in need of assistance."
[Deception Check: 12 — Failure]
[You've changed, Allen. You can't even be bothered to come up with a convincing lie anymore. Is it the hardships of your adventures that have worn down your edge, or indulgence in comfort that has dulled your mind? In any case, this woman doesn't believe a single word you say.]
Yet the red-haired woman visibly relaxed, seemingly convinced.
"That's wonderful. Thank you. Please, come in."
She opened the door fully, inviting them inside.
Allen froze for a moment at her reaction.
The others filed in, with Allen entering last.
The interior of the cabin was far tidier than it appeared from the outside.
A rough wooden table, a few chairs, an extinguished fireplace, and several neatly folded coarse blankets stacked in a corner.
Everything looked perfectly normal.
But Allen and Wren almost simultaneously sensed something off.
Too clean.
Too tidy.
…Not like the home of someone with four children.
Allen scanned the room, his gaze finally settling on Heleni.
"Lady Heleni, forgive my rudeness, but where are your children?"
Heleni smiled gently, her expression perfectly normal.
"I've sent them to relatives in Stormwind. As you can see, ever since my husband disappeared, I've been living alone by this remote lakeside. I simply don't have the ability to protect them."
Wren let out a quiet sigh of relief. She had feared that this poor woman's children…
As she spoke, Heleni picked up a clay jug from the table and poured water into four cups.
"You've all traveled a long way—you must be thirsty. Please, have some water."
The four cups were arranged neatly on the table, the surface of the water rippling slightly, reflecting the daylight streaming in from the window.
Morgan reached out for one of the cups, but Allen's hand stopped his wrist.
Morgan looked at him in confusion. Allen shook his head slightly.
Stella, naturally, thought this made perfect sense—how could a junior like him drink first? If anyone drank, it should be their benefactor first!
Stella stared at Allen for a moment. Seeing that he didn't move, she grinned.
Hehe, if the benefactor isn't drinking, then I'll go first.
She reached for a cup—only for Allen to smack it out of her hand.
The cup fell to the ground, water spilling everywhere.
Aside from the sound of the cup rolling, the cabin fell into complete silence.
Even Stella could feel the sudden tension in the air.
What… was going on?
Wren and Morgan both looked at Allen, unable to understand what he was doing.
Heleni still stood there, her face wearing that same gentle smile.
"Why aren't you drinking?"
"Lady Heleni, may I see a photograph of you and your children?"
At some point, the smile on Heleni's face had begun to twist.
"We don't have the means for that. Photographs are something only nobles can afford."
Outside, the empty Crystal Lake echoed with a few distant bird calls.
Allen looked at her calmly, speaking word by word: "Lady Heleni, we came from Stormwind. We visited every one of your relatives."
"They have not received your children."
Morgan looked at Allen in confusion—when had they ever visited her relatives?
Heleni's breathing grew heavier and heavier, as if she were suppressing something.
Wren, meanwhile, stared at Allen in disbelief. She seemed to understand what he was implying, and a terrifying thought flashed through her mind.
Could it be…
Allen was suspecting…
That the four children were already dead—
And that the murderer… was their own mother…
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