Lamud Town was less a proper town and more a glorified marketplace.
At its center stood a modest church, usually tended by a single clergyman who conducted Sunday services and masses. But today, the priest of the Evernight Goddess was not inside listening to prayers. Instead, he stood in a filthy alleyway, surrounded by rotting waste, his expression grim as he examined a corpse with its entrails hollowed out.
In the still-unstable Kingdom of Loen, where no formal police force existed, crimes like robbery and murder in noble territories were typically handled by the lords themselves. If the local church had a clergyman, some nobles—averse to trouble—would simply donate a hefty sum of pounds and let the clergy deal with the mess.
Loen was a young kingdom, and its aristocracy focused their attention on major cities like Backlund and Conston. Backwaters like Lamud Town rarely warranted their concern.
"Another one dead."
"How many is this now?"
In the dimly lit alley, illuminated only by torchlight, the knight captain stationed in Lamud Town frowned at the corpse. "Father Fidier, what's the verdict?"
"Same as the previous victims. Organs removed. Likely the work of a serial killer." The elderly priest sighed, closing the woman's eyes with a murmured prayer. "May her spirit return to the embrace of the Goddess."
This was the third murder in the marketplace.
The first had occurred ten days ago—a nightclub performer found in a cheap rented room, her body drenched in blood, her organs nearly all extracted. The innkeeper had only noticed something amiss the next morning and reported it to the town's knight garrison. They had cordoned off the scene but, unwilling to disturb the lord, had instead summoned the priest for an initial examination.
Unsurprisingly, the hollowed-out woman had long been dead, and the killer was likely among the other guests that night. But the shabby inn kept no records. Aside from those who hadn't checked out by morning, there was no way to track the suspects.
The second murder happened five days later. Giovanna Spin, the baker's wife, was found butchered in her own bed, her entrails similarly emptied. Her husband, Heisent Spin, had been devastated, as were their two children.
Yet again, no trace of the killer.
And now, a third victim. Same method.
The knight captain hesitated, unsure whether to report this to the lord.
Truthfully, a few dead peasants or slaves in a noble's domain were hardly noteworthy—unless the situation escalated. Three deaths with no leads? If this continued, he couldn't guarantee the baron wouldn't fly into a rage. A serial killer loose in the territory, and they had done nothing to stop him.
Not even a single clue!
---
Using his Faceless abilities, Don had disguised himself as an unremarkable bystander. From the marketplace chatter, he pieced together the details.
"A serial killer, each victim missing their organs…"
His eyes narrowed. "An 'Desire Apostle's' advancement ritual?"
If so, the perpetrator here would be a Sequence 6: Demon.
The moment the thought crossed his mind, Don's head snapped toward the crowd.
His spiritual intuition screamed—someone had just fled the scene.
"The demon?"*
Had they returned to admire their handiwork?
[New task issued.]
The System's voice confirmed his suspicion.
[Every Devil is a terrifying Beyonder, skilled in anti-divination and preemptively sensing danger.]
[Objective: Kill/Subdue the Devil.]
The killer had sensed his scrutiny and bolted.
'Fast reflexes.'
Against a foe who could detect hostility in advance, the only way to corner them was through sheer chance.
But this was his territory. Don wasn't about to let a serial-killing Beyonder escape.
Two rapid clicks of his teeth activated Spirit Body Thread vision. Tracing the demon's fleeing form, he confirmed the target hadn't yet escaped his range—then yanked at the air.
Simultaneously, he conjured illusions to mask his actions from bystanders and used Flame Leap to dart between nearby fire sources.
The demon sensed the danger.
In this era, Beyonders weren't uncommon, and wild ones rarely bothered to hide their nature. At most, they disguised their advancement rituals as the work of mad killers to throw off suspicion.
Demons cared little for collateral damage. If civilians could serve as human shields, all the better.
When the demon suddenly broke into a sprint, the crowd screamed and scattered.
The knight captain belatedly gave chase, but his men were no match for a demon's speed.
Yet the killer's strides slowed abruptly, his movements turning sluggish.
Through the Spirit Body Threads, Don had begun seizing control.
The process took twenty seconds—enough time for the demon to cover significant ground.
Fortunately, the sparse crowd had instinctively fled, unwittingly saving their own lives.
With no nearby flames to leap through, Don flicked his left wrist. The iron chain coiled around it—tipped with a ruby—lashed out like a whip.
The demon, slowed by the threads, couldn't dodge in time. The deceptively slender chain struck with crushing force, sending the hulking figure stumbling.
With a roar, the killer transformed.
A three-meter-tall monstrosity of searing magma whirled around, charging straight at Don.
Don didn't move.
"DIE—!"
The demon's guttural shriek struck like a physical force. Rust bloomed across Don's body—only for it to crumble into a paper effigy as his real form vanished.
[Inventory update: Paper Figurines remaining (11)]
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(End of Chapter)