Chapter 12: The Crazed Hagbirds

“Sever the connection between you and the god of light?” Wang Yu asked the old pastor.

The pastor’s tone made it clear that this was a serious problem, but Wang Yu ran into the same problem as always: he didn’t understand what it meant.

To Wang Yu, gods and deities were superior lifeforms that were so strong they could share part of their strength with their acolytes and devotees—but that was it. He had only had a night of Avia’s lectures so far, allowing him to learn briefly about the path of knighthood.

As for the issue with the fog, he would have to ask Avia for more information later.

“It’s unbelievable, isn’t it? That’s why I’ve remained in this village. On behalf of the god of light, I intend to protect this godforsaken land.” The pastor was ringed in the halo of a devotee.

“It really is hard to believe.” Wang Yu could only nod.

“Pastor, has the fog only thickened lately?” Avia suddenly inserted herself in the conversation.

“That’s right—about six to eight days ago. Do you remember that matron you saw on the way out? Her son entered the Forest of Fog a week ago at night. He never returned. It was around then that the fog became a problem.” The pastor confirmed Avia’s hypothesis.

Avia turned to Wang Yu. Wang Yu met Avia’s gaze in confusion; then, a few seconds later, Avia flushed and turned her head.

Only then did Wang Yu realize what Avia’s glance meant. A week ago, Avia’s aunt had been in the Forest of Fog, and the knight Oka had handed Avia to the old magician Egor…

“In that case, Avia might be implicated in the mystery…”

Wang Yu began to sweat. Were they really the ones responsible for all this?

No, no. They were victims, too. The true culprits, Beran and Egor, had already been killed.

As for Oka and whoever he served, Wang Yu would take them down as well.

“Pastor, could you discuss your own ventures into the Forest of Fog?”

Wang Yu remained outwardly calm. Rather than think more deeply about what the pastor had revealed, he asked about the pastor’s own experiences.

“Of course! I remember it all as clear as day. Few villagers enjoy hearing about my recollection because of the evil influences it touches on, but I can’t imagine you’ll mind. It should be of some help to you both as well.” The pastor smiled as he reminisced about the past, then started recounting his own journey through the Forest of Fog…

Four decades ago, when the pastor was a young missionary, he had chosen to explore the world in hopes of proselytizing those he encountered.

Idealistic and ambitious, he had chosen to head out alone into the world without any guards or knights to protect him—nothing but some food, resources, and the holy book of his church, as was the norm. He would head where the local people had yet to commune with the god of light and expand His influence in the world.

Of course, all this was voluntary. The locals could choose to convert or not as they wished. Only if those who objected to his teachings used force would the church of light respond in kind.

The young missionary set off with passion thrumming through his veins. His first destination was the same village adjacent to the Forest of Fog that they were now in.

There were few locals there at the time, and that small, nameless village was the only one in the vicinity.

The young missionary wandered through the forest for many days. Though he avoided harm thanks to divine protection, he couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. He hadn’t yet come across anyone in this harsh, inhospitable territory.

After a few more days of camping, however, a daily cast of Revelation caused the missionary to perk up.

Revelation was a first-tier spell from the church of light. It could be used once daily; this time, it told him that there were locals in the vicinity.

The young missionary immediately packed up and set off through the forest.

However, without a knight’s constitution, and without a mount of any sort, the missionary’s stamina was limited.

By sunset, he had only made it to the edge of the Forest of Fog. What remained of his Revelation told him that he would find people on the other side of the forest.

As the missionary saw the sun set over the horizon, he decided to journey overnight through the forest.

The young missionary easily cast the second-tier spell Invigoration. Bolstered by the spell, the missionary’s lethargy from his long day of travel was entirely wiped away.

The missionary decided to finish his journey overnight with the help of his spell. He ventured into the fog.

Initially, the missionary didn’t notice anything amiss, but as the sky and the forest darkened, the fog grew thicker and more concentrated.

Strange howls and shrill cries emerged all around him. Some of the spookiest cries sounded like children laughing in an eerie manner, but the missionary didn’t panic. He knew that these were the cries of hagbirds, flying birds with hag-like faces that possessed low-tier magic and curses.

They enjoyed tormenting their prey, killing them in the midst of panic and fear, then consuming their corpses.

Some scholars believed that hagbirds could obtain energy from their prey’s fear, but it wasn’t a claim that had been verified.

Only weak hagbird specimens had been found to date. Their illusions and poison were weak enough that a quick bout of cleansing would suffice even for ordinary people.

As long as they didn’t panic and had some experience under their belt, they could easily survive.

The missionary, however, could sense that his situation was different from the norm. He felt his feet grow heavier and heavier. The strange, spooky cries seemed to draw closer and closer.

Beneath the shadows formed by the lush vegetation of the forest, a woman seemed to appear in sight. Though the missionary could only see a vague outline of her body, there was clearly something misshapen about it.

“No, no, this can’t be! How can I be seeing things? Invigoration should still be active—these damn hagbirds!”

The missionary grew more and more alarmed by the illusions before him, as well as his own lethargy.

He was growing more and more tired. He examined himself: shockingly, his Invigoration had almost expired.

He was forced to cast the spell again. He murmured the incantation once more.

At the very least, dispelling these illusions would help. That strange, misshapen woman gave him no small quantity of stress.

To his shock, the missionary discovered that he was unable to cast his spell. His connection to the god of light had been severed.

The image of the holy figure high above the heavens that he held firm in his mind during an invocation—suddenly disappeared.

Instead, it was replaced by an endless expanse of dismal gray fog.

“Where are you, Your Eminence?!” The young missionary began to panic.

The hagbirds’ cries grew louder and louder by his ears. Something ominous seemed to be drawing near.

Fear pervaded the young missionary’s body. He broke into a run as the fear spread through his body with every thump of his heartbeat.

However, running in a dark forest in which he could barely see what lay before him was no wise decision. Even a rapid walk would have been better—if he had struck a tree or been tripped by a protruding root, the consequences might have been disastrous.

Fortunately, the fleeing missionary didn’t fall or trip.

He continued to run as the hagbirds’ cries echoed in his ears. The fear grew, and grew, and grew.

Air escaped from his lungs faster than he could suck it back in. The missionary found himself short of breath. His stamina was bottoming out…

He had been sustaining himself with Invigoration to begin with. Now that Invigoration had run out, his constitution was that of an ordinary man.

He panted in exhaustion. He had been lucky to go this far without sustaining an injury, but his lack of stamina was quickly apparent throughout his body. His breathing grew strained, his feet heavy—and yet he continued to run, driven by the fear in his heart.

Exhaustion, fear, pain, and an overwhelming sense of oppression made the missionary feel as if his body were about to explode.

Suddenly, he tripped on something underfoot and began to skid. His clothes tore and became ragged, and painful scratches crept up the length of his arm. Stricken by pain and powerlessness, the young missionary tried to scrabble to his feet several times, but to no avail.

If nothing else, the sudden pain had cleared his mind. The hagbirds’ cries suddenly vanished from his ears. The pain was suppressing the illusions he had experienced.

Having calmed down, the missionary struggled to his feet.

He took a deep breath. Though his body hurt, the illusions were gone, as was much of his fear.

He raised his head, which pounded in pain. Under the moonlight, the forest seemed as dark as ever, but the figure of the woman who appeared before him once more made him frown. The illusions were still present, it seemed.

He shook his head forcefully and even pinched himself hard. The hagbirds’ cries, which were starting to recur, faded away again.

The young missionary decided that he would continue to pinch himself as he made his way out of the forest. Pain was far more bearable than the illusions’ fear.

The missionary took another step forward, only to pause. The woman’s figure still appeared before him.

He gave himself a punch so hard he bled from his nose. Pain buzzed from his numbed nerves, his head clearer than ever—the woman was still there. The missionary’s teeth began to chatter and click.

He trembled. The fear that even his pain couldn’t curtail spread throughout his body once again. His legs turned to jelly, then his arms.

Clearheaded as he was, he wouldn’t be subject to illusions—so was that woman real?!

Fear exploded in the missionary’s brain. He began to tear up, and his expression contorted in abject fear.

What was happening to him? His fear was abnormal. Something had to be affecting his mind and rationality.

As if sensing the missionary’s fear, the hagbirds’ cries appeared again. This time, the missionary could tell that it was no illusion. The woman was the one making those cries!

The missionary staggered back from the sound. How could there be so many hagbirds? How could there be so many of them all shrieking together?

The missionary began to scream. He didn’t understand what was going on—until he suddenly did. The woman’s figure shattered. Where her misshapen body had been, his eyes that had grown accustomed to the forest’s dim light saw everything clearly.

That was no woman at all, but an amalgamation of countless hagbirds piled together.

Their cries and screeches overlapped in a crescendo of fear.

The monster began to amble toward the missionary. The hagbird whose face formed the woman’s face began to cackle furiously.

Ordinary hagbirds looked frightening, but they couldn’t form expressions with their faces. All they could do was cackle.

This particular hagbird, however, could smile. Its smile was crazed and fearsome in its intensity. It revealed a series of rotten, sharp teeth. This was a hagbird that had gone mad!

By this time, the missionary had lost all semblance of rationality. All that remained in his head was fear. He chanted his god’s name over and over again as he watched the hagbird close in on him with dilated eyes. The hagbird shrieked.

Just as it was about to strike him, the missionary fell limp and unconscious to the ground.

The moment before he collapsed, he saw the mad hagbird’s face turn expressionless. His holy book suddenly exploded with radiant light.

He next awoke to find himself in an apothecary. Wounded all over, he had been found and brought to safety by the villagers of the unnamed village. His holy book was nowhere to be seen.

“This holy book I have now, I copied by hand,” the pastor bragged.

Wang Yu couldn’t help but think that the loss of the pastor’s holy book wasn’t something to brag about. He was astounded by the pastor’s experience; Avia, beside him, was shuddering in fear.

She leaned against Wang Yu’s shoulder and tugged on his clothes. Wang Yu patted her back as he tried to get her to relax.

Wang Yu had to admit that the pastor’s tale was frightening. He had made ghastly faces as he recounted the fear he had experienced, and Avia’s current behavior made it clear that he was a gifted storyteller.

After relating his tale, the pastor was back to his normal self. It was apparent that the sight he had seen before falling unconscious had deepened his faith in his god.

The god of light did seem to have saved his devout follower, after all.

“Thank you for sharing your story with me.” Wang Yu bowed to the pastor, then made to leave the church with the bottle of holy water and the still-trembling Avia in hand.

The pastor’s experience suggested that the fog could be particularly dangerous, but conversely also that avoiding the fog would exclude much of the danger.

“Farewell. May the god of light guide you,” the pastor called out.

Wang Yu waved.

He didn’t notice the pastor’s slightly trembling body.

The fear from the harrowing experience he had suffered four decades ago hadn’t faded away in time.

No one knew just how much bravery it had cost the pastor to retell his story.

“Are you alright, Avia?” Wang Yu brought Avia to the entrance to the village, then leaned down and patted her shoulder.

Avia trembled again. Wang Yu thought that she had yet to recover from the fright of the pastor’s story.

Suddenly, however, the young girl reached out for Wang Yu’s shoulder. She locked eyes with him. Her voice quivered a little, but her tone was resolute.

“We can’t wait. I need to inform my mother that I’m still alive. The more we wait, the more danger my mother will be in. We have to enter the Forest of Fog. Please, Wang Yu, help me!”

Wang Yu raised an eyebrow, not expecting the direction of Avia’s thoughts.

She was trembling from not just the scary tale, but also fear: the fear that she would be too afraid to enter the forest and inform her mother that she was still alive. Delaying that information would leave her mother in greater danger.

Wang Yu couldn’t help but admire her grit. He thumped his chest. “Your squire, Wang Yu, is at your service.”

Wang Yu didn’t feel fear. He had pledged to serve Avia, and he was a man of his word.

Noon dawned. The bright sunlight illuminated even the Forest of Fog, causing it to glitter in radiance. The gloomy forest of the pastor’s tale was nowhere to be seen.

The pastor stood by the door to the church, teacup in hand, watching as Wang Yu brought Torrent and Avia into the Forest of Fog. He was smiling.

A Nightblade would likely be able to journey through the forest unscathed. He hoped his holy water would come in handy.

Heading into the forest at noon was a good idea. He didn’t know why they were heading in, but he was hopeful they were intending to deal with the strange behavior that the forest had been exhibiting lately.

He smiled as the travelers vanished, then froze stiff.

The brightly shining forest suddenly seemed to be veiled in black, something the sunlight couldn’t penetrate.

Darkness gushed out from the forest. Gray fog seeped out even in broad daylight, slowly but surely enveloping the entire forest…

The pastor’s teacup fell to the ground and shattered. His eyes twitched as his body trembled uncontrollably.

The fear that he had barely held at bay for four decades resurfaced. “That monster, that monster—!”

The pastor could see the figure of a strange, misshapen woman following Wang Yu’s group deep into the forest.

As if sensing the old pastor’s gaze, the figure turned and gave him a crazed smile.

The pastor shuddered. He could barely breathe. It was, it really was, that same crazed hagbird!

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