The midnight air hung heavy inside the small wooden house. Judas lay perfectly still in the darkness until the warnings from Nibble barraged his mind. It was followed by a confirming squeak from Nubble that echoed purely in his thoughts.

His eyes snapped open. Judas inhaled slowly, and his chest expanded against the soft weight pressing down on him.

He looked down.

Ezra was fast asleep in his arms. Her face was buried in the crook of his neck, and her breath was hot and steady against his skin. Her usually stoic features were completely relaxed, softened by exhaustion and the aftermath of their intense intimacy.

She looked defenseless. Beautiful.

His gaze traveled lower. The blankets were tangled around their waists, leaving their upper bodies exposed to the cool night air. But beneath the sheets, they were still connected.

His member was still buried deep inside her. They had fallen asleep like that, locked together in the lingering aftermath of their pleasure.

Judas felt a twitch of annoyance.

It was a perfect moment. A rare, quiet peace where he could simply hold his wife and pretend the apocalypse wasn't waiting outside his door.

'They will be damned,' he cursed silently.

A cold glint flashed in his eyes. The warmth in his chest evaporated, replaced by a freezing killing intent.

He carefully placed his hands on Ezra's waist. Trying his best not to alarm her, he moved slowly, inch by inch, as he pulled himself out.

Ezra stirred. A soft murmur escaped her lips, and her brows furrowed slightly as she felt the loss of his warmth.

Judas froze. He waited until her breathing evened out again.

Once she settled, he finished withdrawing. He slid out completely with a wet sound barely audible in the quiet room.

He carefully rolled off the bed, and his feet touched the cold wooden floorboards.

He grabbed his trousers from the floor where he had ripped them off hours ago. They were torn at the waist, but they would hold. He pulled them on, ignoring the discomfort of the fabric against his skin.

He picked up his iron sword from the corner.

He didn't bother with a shirt. The night air would help cool the rage simmering under his skin.

He glanced back at the bed one last time. Ezra slept on, unaware.

He checked the side room too.

Nina was curled up at the foot of the bed, her tail twitching in a dream. Luna was sprawled out on the other side, looking like a fallen noble even in sleep.

'Sleep well, my wives,' he thought. 'I will take out the trash.'

Rather than going through the front door, he slipped through the window and landed on the soft dirt outside.

The night was cold.

Moonlight bathed the farmland in a pale, ghostly glow. The wind rustled the crops, creating a sea of whispering shadows.

In just three days, his crops had grown to the size of his ankles.

Judas stood up and inhaled the scent of damp earth.

He focused on the mental connection with his spirit monsters.

'Where?'

Nubble responded, guiding his attention to the edge of the property.

It was the spot near the small grove of trees, the same place where the three previous villagers had met their end at the hands, or paws, of the spirit monsters.

Judas moved.

His Agility attribute made his steps light. He didn't run; instead, he flowed through the tall grass, keeping low and blending into the darkness.

He reached a cluster of bushes about twenty feet from the target area and crouched.

Through the leaves, he saw them.

Two men.

They were dressed in dark, ragged clothes. One was standing guard, looking nervously around the perimeter. The other was waist-deep in a hole, shoveling dirt with frantic energy.

The shovel hit the mud with wet, heavy thuds.

'You buried the bodies there?' Judas asked Nubble mentally.

He looked at the pile of dirt next to the hole. It was massive. The bandit in the hole had already dug down at least ten feet.

Nubble squeaked proudly in his head.

Judas sighed. He rubbed his temples.

He appreciated the enthusiasm, but burying corpses right at the crime scene defeated the purpose of hiding them, especially by leaving a mound of soil outside.

He listened to their voices drifting on the wind.

"Damn this soil," the bandit in the hole grunted. He tossed a shovel full of clay over his shoulder. "Are you sure this is the right spot?"

"The bloodstains end here," the standing bandit whispered violently. "Look at the grass. It is matted with dried blood. Someone died here. Recently."

The digger stopped. He wiped sweat from his forehead with a muddy arm.

"How weird," he panted. "Someone was truly killed here, but they were buried too? Which fool buries the murdered?"

"Just keep digging," the watcher hissed.

"I am trying! But the earth here is hard." The digger resumed his work. "And judging by the blood volume on the surface, the killing happened only a few hours back. There is no way ordinary people could dig this deep in such a short time."

He paused again as he looked up at his partner.

"Unless they aren't ordinary."

The watcher shifted his weight. He gripped his rusty spear tighter. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," the digger said, his voice dropping lower, "if not for the changes in soil and the bloodstains going deeper, I might have thought there were no dead bodies below. This is professional work. Or monster work."

"Monster work?"

"Yes. As per the stains, more than one person was killed here," the digger said. He leaned on his shovel, looking fearful. "I am afraid... it is those three guys Marco sent earlier."

The watcher swallowed audibly. "Marco will kill us if we don't bring back answers."

"But who could have killed them?" the digger mused.

He climbed out of the hole, needing a break. He sat on the edge of the mound, dangling his legs into the pit.

He raised his head to glance toward the lone wooden house in the distance.

It stood silent and dark against the backdrop of the Willow Mountains.

"According to the village head, this house is owned by a daring young man," the digger said. "Someone who purchased land worth a thousand pounds of grain. A lunatic."

The watcher nodded. "I heard. Harven said the boy is a madman. No backing. No family."

"But don't you think it is weird?" the digger asked. He scratched his chin. "Such a daring man did not dare to choose a wife?"

Judas narrowed his eyes in the bushes.

The watcher shrugged. "Maybe he is scared?"

"No," the digger shook his head. "Since he is crazy enough to purchase this amount of land, not fearing being drafted to the military if he can't produce the quota, there is no reason for him to be scared to choose a wife. That stupid village head said he was alone. A bachelor."

The watcher scoffed. "Maybe the village head lied. Maybe he wanted to keep the women for himself and just claimed this guy was single so we wouldn't bother checking."

"Harven is a snake," the digger agreed. "He told us the boy is alone. Unmarried."

Judas felt the blood in his veins turn to ice.

So that was it. That was the reason why those bandits haven't come to his home.

The village head lied to help him, even after his own daughter-in-law was violated by those men.

Judas never considered himself a noble man who fought against corruption, but he wasn't someone without gratitude.

Since the village head had gone to this extent to cover for him, he had to mirror the same.

"Let's check on him after this," the watcher said, turning his back to the pit. He looked toward the house with a greedy grin. "If he really is alone, we can take his grain. Maybe he has gold hidden under his floorboards."

"Good idea," the digger said. "Hey, pass me the waterskin."

He reached his hand up from the pit.

He didn't hear an answer.

Instead, a drop of liquid fell on his cheek.

He wiped it. It was warm.

Then another drop hit his nose. And another.

"Rain?" the digger muttered.

He looked up at the sky. It was clear. The moon was bright.

A stream of viscous liquid fell directly into his right eye.

"Argh!" He rubbed his eye furiously. It stung. It was sticky.

He licked his lips. The metallic, salty taste of copper filled his mouth.

"Blood?"

His heart hammered against his ribs. He squinted, wiping the red fluid from his vision.

He raised his head to look at his partner standing on the edge of the pit.

"Hey, are you bleed..."

The words died in his throat.

His partner was standing there, but his head was gone.

The neck ended in a jagged, red ruin. Blood pumped from the severed arteries in rhythmic spurts, raining down into the pit like a macabre shower.

Standing behind the headless corpse was a shadow.

A man.

He was shirtless. His muscles were defined in the moonlight. He held an iron sword that dripped dark fluid onto the grass.

His face was calm. Indifferent.

"Wha..." the digger scrambled back, pressing his spine against the dirt wall of the pit. "Who..."

The headless body of his partner swayed, then toppled forward. It fell into the pit with a heavy thud, landing at the digger's feet.

The shadow stepped to the edge.

Judas looked down into the hole. His eyes were devoid of light.

"Did the village head say I haven't married?" Judas asked.

His voice was cold. It sounded like the wind scraping against a gravestone.

The digger shivered. His teeth chattered violently. He looked from the corpse to the man standing above him.

"Yes," the digger whispered, his voice trembling. "Yes... he said you are a madman. A lunatic. Alone."

Judas nodded slowly.

"I see."

He raised the sword.

"Wait! Please! I can tell you where..."

Splash.

The sword descended. It was a clean, vertical strike.

The digger's head separated from his shoulders. It rolled into the mud, coming to a stop next to his partner's corpse.

Judas flicked his wrist. The blood splattered off the blade onto the grass.

He didn't look at the bodies again.

He turned his head, his gaze piercing through the darkness toward the village. Toward the house of the Village Head.

"Harven," Judas whispered.

He sheathed the sword at his hip.

"Wait for me..."

Then he paused, looking down at the dead bodies of the bandits. Their clothes were tattered, but better than his. So he stripped them out and wore it. While doing that he got two pouches filled with gold coins.

'Not bad.'

'Nibble, Nubble. Remember. Always search the dead bodies before burying.' he ordered as moved in the direction of the village head's house.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.