It took about seven hours on foot—through misty forests and lifeless dirt roads—before the four of them finally arrived at the edge of a crumbling village on the outskirts of Niagara. The air was cold and heavy there, as if it carried whispers of sorrow from within.
The moment he caught sight of what lay ahead, Savior came to a halt. He turned slightly toward Arion and Nari.
"You two stay here. Don't follow me," he said without looking back, his voice colder than usual.
Arion opened his mouth to object, but the blank stare behind Savior's mask was enough to stop him. Nari, too, fell silent, gently clutching Arion's arm as unease crept over her tiny frame.
"This plague... isn't an ordinary disease," Savior continued. "It's not the flu, not a curse. This is... something even the heavens refuse to look upon."
Without waiting for a response, Savior stepped through the village gate, Aria following close behind.
The village was silent. Too silent. The wooden houses were decaying, the dirt paths stained with blackened streaks and marks that looked scorched. A thin mist clung to everything. The stench was unbearable—the unmistakable odor of death.
The remaining villagers—if they could still be called that—lay weak and unmoving. Some had lost their voices entirely. Their bodies were rotting while still alive, skin blackened, eyes blank as if no longer part of this world.
Aria walked beside Savior, her face pale.
"It… all started from the old well in the village center. The water turned black overnight. Then… people began falling ill, one by one. There was nothing we could do…"
But before Aria could say more, Savior suddenly stopped. In one swift motion, without warning, he drew a syringe from beneath his cloak—its chamber glowing with a swirling neon green liquid. Without hesitation, he stabbed it straight into Aria's neck.
"W-What—"
She didn't even have time to scream. Her body collapsed instantly.
"Time to go," Savior muttered softly, and in a heartbeat, his body dissolved into a swirl of black mist. No trace. No shadow.
Minutes passed.
The wind stopped blowing. The air grew thick with dread.
From the ruins of a nearby house, something emerged—a tall, glistening creature, moving like a dripping shadow. Its eyes were hollow, its body radiating a foul aura that blackened and melted the ground beneath its feet.
It crept toward the unconscious Aria. Its fingers were long and damp, like rotten roots searching for prey. Slowly, it reached out to touch her face—
FWHUMP!
A crimson crescent-shaped wave of energy sliced through the air, cleanly severing the creature's hand. Black blood sprayed from the stump, sizzling and hissing like boiling tar.
Then a cold, mocking voice echoed from the mist.
"You're not serious, are you? Planning to use her as a host? Hah… for a disgusting thing like you, I gotta admit—you've got taste."
Savior emerged from the black mist, his mask glowing faintly, crimson lights flaring in his eyes.
The creature let out a guttural screech—a wet, choking noise, like a throat full of sludge.
Without hesitation, Savior swung his staff. Three crimson energy crescents shot toward the creature, cutting through the air with a screeching hiss.
But—
The creature dodged. Its movement was fast. Too fast.
Savior stopped in his tracks. For the first time, he spoke in a serious tone.
"Interesting… You dodged. Now that's… fun."
His voice sounded almost thrilled.
"Let's play."