A few hours earlier, in a valley a few miles from Lilith's castle, the morning silence was shattered by a hollow thudding of paws. A group of powerful wolves burst into one of the abandoned goblin villages, but as soon as they crossed the perimeter of the dwellings, something macabre occurred.
Bones creaked, muscles swelled, and fur stretched over growing silhouettes. The beasts rose onto two legs, reaching over two meters in height. Their bodies were massive, packed with hard muscle, and their hands ended in talons capable of rending steel.
They were Werewolves - a race famed for brutal strength and speed, which in the far north, alongside the Gnoll tribes, formed powerful, bloody states.
These specific warriors came from the Blood Fang tribe, the true tyrants of the surrounding forests. Every weaker tribe in the region paid them tribute in gold or meat, and those who refused ended as a bloody pulp. They had come here for a routine plundering, but were met with silence.
The village was empty.
"Looks like we got here too late," one of them muttered, drawing air into his massive lungs.
"Something must have happened here, looking at the chaos left behind; plus, there's a strange scent that doesn't belong to goblins," added a second, kicking the remains of a destroyed campfire. "These goblins either evaporated or found themselves a new master."
The situation was summarized by Kaelen, a powerful male with grizzled fur and scars on his chest. Kaelen was no ordinary werewolf. He was a Player-Hero who had taken over the beast's body in this new world. Beside him stood two other Heroes, who had also been "possessed" by arrivals from another dimension.
Thanks to the System and the knowledge of the Players, their rank within the Blood Fang tribe had risen lightning-fast. They had become the elite, a terror even to their own kin. Naturally, there were more Heroes in their tribe.
The Blood Fang tribe was no mere band of marauders; it was an organized army of over seven hundred predators. The seven Heroes who had been reborn in their ranks completely dominated the tribe's structure, and the strongest of them, Verial, sat upon the chieftain's throne, turning the werewolves into his private instruments of murder.
Kaelen, a werewolf with characteristic red dots on his ashen fur, slowed his pace, still analyzing the empty goblin dwellings.
"Do you think a Demon King did this?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.
The heroine walking beside him in snow-white fur nodded.
"Possible. The System shows a nest has been established in the Valley of Eternal Darkness. If we clean him out now before he grows in power, we'll save Verial the trouble. The Boss won't have to get his hands dirty, and we'll snag all the glory."
Their mission was twofold: plunder the resources they believed should still be here, and conduct reconnaissance on the Demon King's nest. However, the vision of the reward for killing a Demon Lord - a drastic jump in level and unimaginable riches - meant their hunter instincts completely drowned out their caution.
Kaelen, despite his predatory nature, was the more skeptical one.
"If this Demon King dealt with an entire village in such a short time, he and his faction probably aren't that weak. Shouldn't we report this to the chief first? For safety?"
The third of them, a massive werewolf with coal-black fur, burst into a throaty laugh.
"Hahaha! Kaelen, what are you so afraid of? It's just a goblin village! Even a flock of lame sheep could deal with those weaklings. It's impossible for this Demon King to be that strong. We've hit a novice who just got lucky."
All three were Heroes, but their ambitions created deep cracks between them.
The black-furred werewolf had long hated Verial's authority.
Why should he rule while I only conduct 'investigations'? he thought with fury.
If he managed to kill a Demon King on his own, the hierarchy in the Blood Fang tribe would change quickly.
"Think about it," the black werewolf added, baring his fangs
"There are plenty of Heroes in this world, but Demon Kings are rare and valuable prey."
The white she-wolf clenched her hands, her eyes flashing with cold ambition.
"Zariel is right," she threw out firmly. "Grinding ordinary mobs in the forest is tragic. At this rate, it'll take ages before we gain real strength. If we want to flip the hierarchy in the tribe and stop bowing to Verial, our only chance is hunting Demon Kings!"
Kaelen, despite his innate caution, felt the seed of uncertainty replaced by greed. He looked at his powerful, hairy forearms and felt the power pulsing within them. All three were high-level Heroes, and the strength of their race - werewolves - was naturally higher than that of most other species.
Furthermore, they had fifty elite werewolf warriors at their backs. This was no band of amateurs, but a well-trained pack capable of tearing even a small army to shreds.
Maybe I really am being too conservative? Kaelen thought. How strong can a Demon King in this forgotten valley be? It's probably some cowering coward hiding behind a group of goblins.
Within seconds, the three Heroes reached an agreement. Ambition won over reason.
"In that case... let the blood flow in streams!" Kaelen howled, his voice echoing off the rocky walls.
He dropped to all fours, digging his claws into the hard earth, and shot forward like gray lightning. Zariel and the white she-wolf followed right behind him, and the rest of the pack, driven by hunting instinct, formed a battle wedge behind them. They raced at breakneck speed until they finally reached the throat of the Canyon.
The pack slowed slightly as the canyon walls began to tighten around them like the jaws of a gigantic beast. Kaelen, leading the way, raised a hand, signaling for alertness.
"Watch yourselves, everyone," he growled, his ears twitching nervously as they caught every echo. "This is the only way into the Valley. Considering the Demon King's kingdom is cut off from the world by this one, solitary path, he and his servants have surely set a trap here."
Zariel, walking right behind him, let out a dismissive snort.
"And what if he has? We aren't weaklings who can be defeated by simple traps. Personally, I can't wait to see what this Demon King tries to cook up. Maybe some spiked pits? Or falling rocks? Pathetic."
However, as they delved deeper into the pass, the surroundings became increasingly eerie. The air thickened, and the temperature dropped sharply. Then, the four obelisks came into their view.
In the eyes of the werewolves, these structures looked like monuments raised to pure madness. They were several-meter-high spires of black, porous stone that seemed to "breathe" darkness. Instead of smooth walls, their surfaces were covered in carvings resembling faces contorted in agony, and a blue, deathly light emanated from the wide openings halfway up their height.
The white she-wolf stopped abruptly, the fur on her neck standing on end.
"What is this?" she asked quietly, a note of unease appearing in her voice for the first time. "The fact that such things suddenly grow in such a terrifying place is... unnatural. I feel a chill from them that doesn't come from this world."
Zariel snorted again, though this time he tightened his grip on his weapon.
"Hmph, mere tricks. The Demon King can't be so stupid as to think such decorations will deter Heroes, can he? He's too naive if he thinks he'll scare us with a few stones."
Kaelen looked at his companions, then at the squad of fifty warriors who began to shift nervously from paw to paw.
"Hurry up and end this chatter," he commanded. "The Demon King shouldn't have noticed us yet. Let's hit him before he can react to our presence! We break through!"
The decision was made. The eerie obelisks, instead of prompting a retreat, acted as a catalyst for their pride. The werewolves lunged forward, wanting to pass the strange constructions as quickly as possible and reach their prey. Only one thought throbbed in their heads: kill the Demon King and seize his treasures.
At that moment, as the first line of warriors found themselves exactly between the four monoliths, the Cursed Obelisks began to react.
The blue light inside the rifts suddenly pulsed unnaturally fast, and a sound emerged from the depths of the stone that resembled a thousand simultaneous sobs. The air around the obelisks swirled, and the first smoky shapes of the Cursed Spirits began to pour from the openings.
Lilith, watching from hiding, felt a shiver down her back.
"Here we go," she whispered with excitement.