The inn had fallen into an unusual silence as the late hours of night stretched quietly over the village. The lively murmurs that once filled the wooden halls during dinner had long since faded, leaving only the faint creaking of aged beams and the occasional whisper of wind brushing against the outer walls.

Lanterns burned low, their dim golden light flickering gently as shadows stretched thin across the narrow corridors. The quiet atmosphere carried a strange stillness, as though even the air itself hesitated to disturb the heavy calm that had settled over the building.

Behind the counter, the old woman innkeeper remained awake.

Her expression was far from peaceful.

Her lips pressed tightly together as irritation simmered visibly across her wrinkled face, her fingers tapping impatiently against the wooden surface before she finally stepped away with a quiet scoff.

“That slutty woman…” she muttered under her breath, her voice laced with lingering offense.

“How dare she call me an old hag…”

Her steps were slow but deliberate as she made her way toward the staircase, her annoyance clearly refusing to fade even as the night grew deeper.

The wooden steps creaked faintly beneath her weight as she climbed upward, her breathing steady but her expression tense with restless irritation.

She paused briefly midway, glancing toward the lower floor as though ensuring no one was watching before continuing upward.

Soon, she reached the top floor.

The narrow corridor stretched ahead, dimly lit by a single lantern that cast faint trembling shadows upon the wooden walls.

Only one room stood there.

The very room occupied by the traveling couple.

Her fingers moved instinctively toward the key tucked within the folds of her sleeve, retrieving it with quiet familiarity as she approached the door.

The faint metallic sound of the lock turning broke the stillness.

The door opened slowly.

She stepped inside.

Her eyes moved immediately, scanning the room with subtle urgency before she carefully closed the door behind her, ensuring the latch settled without unnecessary noise.

For a moment, she simply stood still, her gaze moving across the bed, the table, the corners of the room as though searching for something very specific.

Her brows furrowed faintly.

“Where is she…?” she muttered quietly, her voice carrying faint irritation mixed with something more cautious.

Her eyes narrowed slightly as she continued looking around the room, the silence growing heavier with each passing second.

***

The night air had grown unusually still as Luca and Seraphina made their way back toward the village, their footsteps the only sound accompanying them along the quiet path. The faint glow of moonlight stretched across the narrow road, illuminating rooftops and silent homes that now lay wrapped in deep slumber.

Yet something about the atmosphere felt… wrong.

Too quiet.

Luca’s gaze moved slowly across the darkened street as they entered the village boundary, his senses subtly sharpening with each step forward.

“Isn’t it too silent?” he said quietly, his voice low yet cautious.

Seraphina walked beside him, her expression calm, though her eyes remained observant.

“It is already midnight,” she replied evenly. “Most people would be asleep.”

Her tone was logical.

Reasonable.

Yet the unease did not fully fade.

Luca gave a small nod, though the faint tension in his shoulders remained.

They continued forward until the familiar shape of the inn appeared at the end of the narrow lane, its wooden exterior dimly lit by a single lantern that swayed faintly in the breeze.

The door stood slightly ajar.

Luca slowed instinctively.

Seraphina’s gaze sharpened.

Without speaking, both of them approached with heightened awareness, their movements controlled, silent.

Luca placed a hand lightly against the door and pushed it open slowly.

The faint creak of wood echoed softly.

Then—

The scent reached them first.

Iron.

Heavy.

Fresh.

The scene before them froze time itself.

Blood.

Dark red trails stretched across the wooden floor, pooling beneath motionless bodies that lay scattered across the inn’s interior.

Several villagers lay collapsed where they had once stood or sat, their expressions frozen in the final moments of terror they had experienced. Tables were overturned, chairs broken, fragments of shattered pottery scattered across the ground, each detail speaking of violence that had occurred swiftly and mercilessly.

The walls bore streaks of crimson where desperate attempts at escape had failed.

Silence dominated the space.

No cries.

No struggle.

Only aftermath.

Luca’s breathing slowed instinctively, though the faint quickening of his pulse revealed the tension building beneath his composed exterior.

Seraphina’s expression remained controlled, yet her eyes sharpened noticeably as she absorbed the horrifying sight.

Neither of them spoke.

There was no need.

They exchanged a single glance.

Understanding passed instantly.

They moved carefully.

Every step measured.

Every movement controlled.

Luca advanced first, his gaze scanning every detail as he approached the counter.

Behind it—

The old innkeeper lay slumped against the wooden shelves.

His body…

Barely recognizable.

His form had been mutilated with brutal precision, the violence inflicted upon him far beyond necessity for simple execution.

Luca paused briefly, drawing a slow breath as he steadied his focus.

This was not random violence.

This was deliberate.

Calculated.

He straightened slowly before continuing forward, stepping carefully between fallen bodies as he examined the surroundings closely.

Seraphina moved in parallel, her attention directed toward the subtle traces of mana within the air.

Yet—

Nothing.

No lingering signature.

No identifiable residue.

No traceable energy patterns.

Whoever had done this…

Had erased their presence completely.

Even physical evidence appeared unnaturally limited.

No visible footprints.

No displaced dust suggesting direction of movement.

No signs of prolonged struggle.

Only death.

Swift.

Efficient.

Unforgiving.

Luca crouched briefly beside one of the fallen figures, examining the wound pattern with careful precision.

“Single-strike elimination,” he muttered quietly.

Seraphina’s gaze shifted upward.

“The upper floor,” she said calmly.

Luca gave a small nod.

They moved toward the staircase cautiously, their senses heightened further as the creaking of each wooden step echoed faintly through the oppressive silence.

The second floor revealed no survivors.

Doors remained partially open.

Inside each room—

More bodies.

Each victim eliminated with the same ruthless efficiency.

No hesitation.

No mercy.

Yet once again…

No trace.

No clue.

No indication of identity.

Even the arrangement of the room interiors remained largely undisturbed, suggesting the attack had been completed before anyone could mount meaningful resistance.

Luca’s jaw tightened faintly as he stepped back into the corridor.

“This was done quickly,” he said quietly.

Seraphina nodded.

“And with intention.”

They continued upward.

The top floor.

The final room.

The door stood slightly ajar.

Empty.

No body.

No visible disturbance.

Yet the air felt heavy.

As though something had occurred here not long ago.

Luca’s gaze darkened slightly as he exhaled slowly.

“It must be the work of cultists…” he said quietly.

Seraphina gave a small nod, her expression calm yet serious.

“The level of precision… and complete absence of trace…”

Her eyes moved slowly across the silent corridor.

“This was not done by ordinary individuals.”

The quiet inn stood still once more.

But the peaceful image it once held…

Had already been erased.

The oppressive silence of the ruined inn lingered heavily in the air as Luca and Seraphina stood within the corridor of the upper floor, the weight of the massacre pressing quietly against their thoughts. The absence of even the faintest trace of the attacker only deepened the unease, the precision of the slaughter revealing an enemy both calculated and merciless.

Seraphina’s gaze moved slowly across the dim corridor before she spoke in a calm, measured tone.

“We have examined every other room,” she said quietly. “There is only one place left.”

Luca understood immediately.

Their room.

The only space that had remained untouched.

Or perhaps…

Left deliberately untouched.

He gave a small nod, his expression growing more focused.

“Either the killer is still there…” he said slowly.

“…or they have already left.”

The words settled between them with quiet weight.

Seraphina’s eyes sharpened slightly.

“Let us confirm.”

Luca stepped forward, but before moving toward the final door, he reached gently for Seraphina’s hand, his grip firm yet careful.

She glanced at him, one brow lifting slightly.

“What?” she asked calmly. “Are you afraid?”

Luca shook his head.

“No.”

His voice remained steady.

“Move behind me.”

He paused briefly before continuing.

“I can recover fully even if I take a fatal strike once.”

Seraphina studied him silently for a moment, her expression unreadable.

Then, without protest, she allowed him to guide her position behind him.

Luca stepped forward cautiously, each movement deliberate as he approached the familiar wooden door at the end of the corridor.

The air felt strange here.

Heavier.

Almost… warm.

His fingers tightened slightly around the handle as he unlocked the door, the faint metallic click sounding unnaturally loud in the quiet hallway.

Slowly—

He pushed the door open.

Both of them entered.

Seraphina stopped almost immediately.

Her brows furrowed faintly.

“There is something wrong…”

The words left her lips quietly, yet the meaning behind them struck instantly.

The air within the room felt different.

Subtly thick.

A faint scent lingered… difficult to identify yet impossible to ignore.

Luca’s breathing shifted almost immediately, his chest rising slightly faster as an unfamiliar warmth spread gradually through his body.

His focus wavered for the briefest moment.

Seraphina’s composure faltered slightly as well, her usual steady posture interrupted by an almost imperceptible stiffness in her movements.

Her fingers curled faintly.

Her breathing slowed… then deepened.

Something was affecting them.

Not an attack.

Not a curse.

Something far more insidious.

Luca clenched his jaw lightly as he fought to maintain clarity, his mind recognizing the danger even as his body responded against his will.

His pulse quickened.

Warmth spread through his veins like fire creeping beneath skin.

Seraphina’s expression shifted subtly, her calm exterior now carrying faint strain as she steadied herself against the table momentarily.

“This… is…”

Her words broke slightly as she attempted to regain control.

Luca’s vision sharpened abruptly as he forced himself to remain alert, scanning the room quickly for the source.

His gaze locked onto a figure standing within the dim corner of the room.

Recognition struck instantly.

His voice came out strained, disbelief mixing with controlled tension.

“W-what are you doing… h-here…?”

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