The First Appearance of the Evil Shadow

“What! It’s that simple!”

Henry exclaimed, his voice laced with disbelief.

“What’s wrong? Do you wish to give me more? Perhaps a hundred Proania gold coins, or something similar?”

The puppet teased, a hint of amusement in her tone.

“No, no, no, this is perfectly fine… well, no, that’s not quite right either.”

“Hahaha, let’s forget it then. I don’t need your possessions or your grain. The weather hasn’t been good this year, so your harvest is likely poor. Keep your money and food; prepare for winter.”

The puppet chuckled softly, her gentle voice cutting through the old man’s flustered embarrassment.

“…Thank you very much! I sincerely appreciate your noble character.”

Henry was genuinely moved this time.

He hadn’t expected this esteemed demon hunter to be so kind, refusing both grain and gold, asking only for the broken mirror hanging in the corner.

‘There are still good people in this world after all,’ he thought.

Henry’s gaze drifted to the puppet’s exquisitely beautiful face, and he couldn’t help but sigh in wonder.

While mirrors were quite valuable in this era, that only applied to mercury-backed ones.

As for his own dilapidated, rust-covered bronze mirror, it was unlikely anyone would even take it for scrap.

That such a mirror could secure the intervention of a powerful demon hunter was something Henry readily agreed to.

“Where did you acquire this mirror?”

The puppet approached the old bronze mirror, her slender, white-gloved fingers tracing the strange patterns etched along its edge, asking with an almost casual tone.

“Ah… this mirror, you mean? It’s a memento from a time old Henry here got swindled…”

“Swindled?”

“Indeed. That traveling merchant took nearly twenty silver coins from me! He claimed it was a treasure unearthed from ruins, an amazing item that could bring good fortune…”

“What a pity…”

Though sympathy and apology tinged her voice, a peculiar glint flickered in the silver-grey eyes beneath the puppet’s hood.

‘It could be bought for nearly twenty silver coins? This arcane legacy… if anyone knew, they’d surely fight tooth and nail for it,’ she mused.

‘Someone truly got a steal, yet this item is hardly beneficial for ordinary humans.’

“Very well, our discussion ends here. Please tell me the creature’s location, and I shall eliminate it.”

The puppet clapped her hands, curtailing the old man’s desire to continue his complaints.

“Uh… do you not require me to lead the way?”

“No need. Simply tell me the general direction where the bodies were found and where people went missing. I can handle the rest on my own.”

“Very well then, the creature is located…”

Twisted branches jutted out amidst crumbling walls.

Upon reaching the ruins of this small, broken village, even the sun above seemed to dim, its light turning cold and oppressive.

No birds chirped, no leaves rustled; only the faint wails and the wind’s mournful cries filled the air.

‘This must be it then. The abandoned village ruins in the back mountains…’

‘It appears another tragedy has unfolded here.’

The black, knee-high boots clattered against the hard, scorched earth.

These rhythmic steps, echoing the horse’s hooves behind, were the only sounds in this desolate place.

The hood was pulled back, revealing an exquisitely beautiful face.

Yet, those lovely eyes were now slightly furrowed as they scanned the surroundings.

“Crying, wailing, despair, madness, collapse… such potent negative energy; it’s unsettling.”

The puppet felt a flicker of doubt.

Even if an entire village had been massacred and many brutally tortured, such an overwhelming aura shouldn’t linger.

The bodies resembled mummies, bearing marks of being torn apart.

While many spirits fed on blood and souls, the fact that the male victims had their genitals ripped off was baffling.

‘What kind of fiend does that?’

Amidst her confusion, the puppet suddenly detected a putrid stench, a spiritual decay.

‘No! This decay and evil, deeply hidden within the dense aura…’

‘It seems I’ve stumbled upon something quite intriguing this time.’

The puppet’s brows furrowed deeply.

The gentleness in her silver-grey eyes receded, replaced by a chilling killing intent that slowly crept over her features.

“Rao, be cautious. Something you cannot handle in your current state might appear soon…”

A neigh.

Hearing his master’s cold voice, the black horse nodded, acknowledging the warning.

Its eyes glowed red, and ethereal flames flickered along its spine and hooves as it cautiously surveyed its surroundings.

The colossal black scythe, ‘Nightmare,’ reappeared on her back.

The puppet’s dark hooded robe had, at some point, transformed into a demon hunter’s suit, complete with a triangular flat hat.

Energy surge!

A greyish-white aura rippled outwards from the puppet, advancing steadily in a fan-like sweep, relentlessly grinding the already decayed ruins in its path into dust.

Finally, just as the energy wave was about to pass over the ancient well in the village center, a piercing, frantic howl suddenly erupted from beneath it.

Along with the howl, the energy wave dissipated, and several tentacles extended from the depths of the well, groping around as if searching for something to grasp.

“Heh, quite a big one… Rao! Retreat! And now, come out here!!!!”

The puppet made a grasping motion with her hands.

In response, two colossal ethereal hands materialized from the void before her, seizing two of the thicker tentacles and pulling upwards with immense force!

“Get out here!!!”

“ROOOOAAARGH!”

The alchemical runes embedded within her body began to surge with magic.

The millennium-old alchemical puppet, crafted from countless precious materials, finally unleashed its terrifying might, violently yanking the monster from the well amidst its frantic, horrifying roars!

The earth shattered, and bricks flew everywhere.

Before the puppet, an abominable figure appeared, a sight capable of driving any ordinary person to madness.

The creature stood nearly three times the puppet’s height.

Its upper body was a decomposing corpse dressed in a bridal gown, its gums exposed, a long tongue lolling and swaying.

Its eyes had rotted into empty sockets, and with the puppet’s extraordinary vision, even maggots could be faintly seen crawling in and out.

Its lower half was a mass of octopus-like tentacles, dozens of them writhing.

Its deathly white skin oozed a viscous yellowish-green fluid, within which countless tormented human faces could be faintly discerned, struggling and wailing.

“This familiar sense of decay and corruption…”

“ROOOOAARRR!!!!!”

“…It’s a legacy of an ancient evil god.”

The expressionless puppet gazed at the colossal monster before her, which reeked of putrefaction and madness.

Silently, she raised the black great scythe, now wreathed in greyish-white mist.

The next moment, she attacked!

“ROAR!!”

The monster lifted a tentacle from its lower body, lashing it violently at the charging puppet!

Feeling the wind pressure above her head, the puppet’s expression remained unchanged.

With an icy gaze, she brought the scythe up in an inverted, upward sweep.

“ROAR!!!”

The monster howled in pain.

Two severed tentacles twitched on the scorched earth, splattering foul-smelling, corrosive fluid that pitted the ground.

As the puppet drew closer, more and more tentacles lashed out.

Sweeping, cleaving, coiling, stabbing—the slime-covered tentacles danced in a frenzy, showering the puppet with malice and killing intent, yet they utterly failed to halt the black flash of movement!

No attack proved effective. Any slight oversight meant being bisected by the sharp scythe.

Even if a tentacle managed to thrust close, it was repelled by a faint blue shield, its efforts proving futile.

“It ends now.”

A cold, desolate voice emanated from beneath the dark mask, carrying a hint of merciful finality.

Having severed the last tentacle, the puppet leaped high into the air, appearing like a black crow ascending to harvest death under the chilling sunlight.

“SHWIIIING!!!!”

The peerlessly sharp scythe sliced into the crown of the decaying bride’s head, leaving a shallow mark.

From above, the puppet descended, her feet landing firmly.

The instant her boots touched the ground, a bright, thin line spread across the monster’s body.

As more and more light shone through the monster’s center, it froze for a moment, then split into two halves, toppling to either side.

“RUMBLE…”

Smoke and dust billowed, and a putrid stench filled the air.

It was as if a yellowish-green rain had fallen upon the village ruins.

The puppet stood silently before the monster, now cleaved in two, her cold gaze watching as the non-corrosive corpse fluid splashed against her faint blue shield and slowly dripped away.

“Merely the outcome of a failed summoning… To think a human cult, deluded by an ancient god, has already emerged. What a significant nuisance this is.”

The instant the puppet struck the monster down, she gleaned information from the dying creature’s dissipating essence, revealing its true nature.

It was a failed entity, summoned through a ritual where an entire village had been sacrificed.

The cult members had seemingly intended to summon an ancient god by sacrificing souls, but for some unknown reason, the ancient god never accepted them.

Ultimately, due to the accumulation of resentment, these souls ran wild, transforming into this monster, infused with the ancient god’s power.

“Of course they weren’t accepted… because the ancient god you wished to summon has long been dead.”

The puppet sneered.

Once the bloody rain subsided, she waved her hands, and pale demonic flames spread, incinerating the once-ruined village in moments, leaving behind only empty, scorched earth.

There was no need to collect the soul fragments from these bodies.

Souls tainted by the power of an evil god held no value for retrieval; they would only leave behind mad, resentful, and impure residues.

The Nightmare scythe vanished from her hand, leaving behind only a faint, pure blue speck of light, flickering weakly.

This speck was the sole fortunate soul among the hundreds in the village who had not been tainted by the ancient god’s power.

The puppet’s gaze deepened as she watched the lucky soul in her hand.

A moment later, a cold snort echoed from the center of the scorched earth.

“The Mensis Cult, then? …Hmph.”

Taking one last look at the village ruins, now devoid of their previous chilling aura, the puppet, with the speck of light still in her hand, turned and walked back into the forest she had come from.