The Goblin Leader returned from outside Stonewatch as dawn began to pale.

He dragged a dead Kobold across muddy ground and dried blood. The corpse came from the outer battlefield, where the Kobold pack had fought far from the gate before the war ended beneath the city wall.

Its body was almost as long as an adult wolf, low and sinewy, with coarse fur matted by blood. One of its legs was broken. An axe wound split it from shoulder to abdomen, deep enough to open its insides and spill its life into the dirt.

The Goblin Leader dropped the corpse in front of me, then stepped back without a sound.

I touched the Kobold’s head with one claw.

'Rise.'

Black-purple Mana seeped into the furred body.

[Host Binding Successful]
[Species: Kobold]
[Vessel Integrity: Heavily Injured]
[Vassal Slots: 13/17 - 4 Locked]

Purple eyes ignited beneath dried blood.

The Kobold rose with low, broken movements. Its ruined leg still could not fully support its weight. The long wound across its body remained open, but enough tissue had fused together to let it move.

It did not look alive, but that did not matter.

It only needed to be useful.

Fast, sinewy, and armed with strong claws. Better suited for moving through trees, ruins, and narrow passages.

After that, I turned toward the Orc corpses that had been separated on the northern side.

Dozens of huge bodies lay still. Some were still gripping their weapons even after death. There were no slots left for them. Four slots were locked because of destroyed Vassals, and the other thirteen were already filled.

The choice was simple.

What I could not yet claim as a body, I would take as fuel.

I touched one of the Orc corpses.

'Absorb.'

Coarse heat flowed upward from many corpses at once. Once, a single Orc had felt like a feast. Now, more than twenty corpses were only enough to push me a little further.

[Orc Essence (Warrior) x25 Assimilated]
[Warning: Assimilation Efficiency Decreased]
[Level 15 Reached]
[Maximum Mana Capacity Increased: 180 -> 190]
[Statistic Increased (Random): Intelligence +1]
[Available: 1 Free Stat Point]
[Vassal Slot Capacity Increased: 17 -> 18]

The Vassals’ wounds began to close.

The new Kobold trembled once as the axe wound across its body sealed shut. Its broken leg planted itself on the ground without faltering. Bloodhorn stood straighter than before. His twisted hip realigned, while his massive fingers recovered enough to grip his axe without any gap.

The Assassin, who had nearly been dragged by the connection earlier, now stood upright again without a sound.

The Goblin Leader lowered his head further.

Near the ruins, Alden lifted his head. His face was still pale, but his breathing was no longer as heavy as before.

I fell silent for a moment.

Interesting.

[Active Vassal Status: Stable]
[Vassal Slots: 13/18 - 4 Locked]

Four slots were still locked. Only one slot was available for me to use.

There was another change that did not appear in the system window.

My Vassals looked more active, as if their original instincts had been pushed closer to the surface after my evolution.

The Goblin Leader scraped the side of his cleaver against a broken stone without being ordered. One Orc Warrior bent among the corpses, picked out an intact axe, then gripped it as his new weapon.

Perhaps my evolution had not only changed my body.

The Vassals felt more alive, and because of that, more dangerous.

I opened my inventory.

A dark red stone fell into my clawed fingers.

The Tainted Evolution Core.

My eyes stopped on the person near the ruined workshop.

She was still searching for something that was no longer there.

I activated Analytical Perception.

[Analytical Perception Activated]
[Target: Mirae]
[Profession: Alchemist]
[High-Level Alchemical Trace Detected]
[Concealment Mana Layer Detected]
[Complete Identification: Obstructed]

Mirae.

An alchemist.

And something hidden behind a layer of Mana.

I sent pressure through Alden’s relay.

'That alchemist. Her name is Mirae. Ask her how to cleanse this red core.'

Alden tensed slightly.

Neira looked at him, but the old man only gave a small shake of his head before raising his voice.

“Mirae?”

The alchemist stopped too quickly.

Only half a second.

Enough to tell me that Alden should not have known that name.

Alden pointed at the dark red stone between my clawed fingers.

“He asks how to cleanse that core.”

Mirae looked at the stone.

She did not ask what it was. A small mistake, or a small confession.

“Ordinary holy water might be able to erode the outer layer,” she said at last. “But it won’t be enough to cleanse it.”

Alden glanced at me, then asked, “What would be enough?”

“A living blessing,” Mirae answered. “A priest who can truly channel holy power. Not just a bottle of water with prayers poured over it.”

Karez, who was sitting on a broken stone not far away, lifted his head slightly.

“And by coincidence, you know someone like that?”

Mirae did not look at him.

“Barrowford,” she said. “The closest option. Priest Calvar went there a few days ago.”

Rusk, who was standing near the gate, finally turned.

“Barrowford?”

Before Mirae could answer, a shout came from the direction of the gate.

“Captain!”

A guard ran over with a pale face.

“Someone is coming from the Barrowford road!”

Everyone who could still stand turned.

Outside Stonewatch, the gate that had nearly been broken through last night was now held up by additional planks hastily nailed into place. It still looked like a mouth too tired to bite.

What came was not aid.

He was bad news given a horse.

A brown horse emerged from the morning mist, its steps unsteady, its mouth foaming. The rider nearly fell before he reached the gate. The emblem of a small city guard hung crookedly from his chest.

Not Stonewatch.

Barrowford.

The horse stopped two steps from the gate, then collapsed.

The rider was thrown into the mud. One of his feet caught in the stirrup, his arm was covered in blood, and half his face was smeared with wet earth.

He tried to stand again.

A soldier moved first and caught his shoulder before the man could fall again.

Rusk arrived a moment later.

“From Barrowford?” Rusk asked.

The man opened his mouth.

Blood came out first.

A healer ran over.

The man from Barrowford pushed the healer’s hand away with the remaining strength in his arm.

“No,” he said. His voice sounded like stone scraping against bone. “Listen first.”

Rusk stiffened. A person like that knew his strength would not last long.

“Barrowford?” Rusk asked.

The man nodded once.

“Attacked?”

His mouth moved as if he were about to laugh.

The sound was wet and short.

“Not attacked.”

His eyes moved past Rusk’s shoulder, toward Stonewatch’s hastily patched gate, then to the smoke, the Orc corpses, and the purple-eyed Vassals standing still among the ruins.

Then his eyes returned to Rusk.

“You were lucky they came from outside.”

Karez, who had just managed to stand with difficulty, stopped smiling.

Rusk said, “Explain.”

The man from Barrowford gripped Rusk’s arm with trembling fingers.

“From below,” he said. “They came from below.”

No one spoke immediately.

The morning wind passed over the muddy road, carrying the smell of sweat, old blood, and fear that had not yet ended.

“Wells,” the man continued. “Warehouses. House floors. Graves. They opened the ground from inside.”

The man from Barrowford shivered.

“People disappeared,” he said.

Rusk said, “Disappeared?”

“Dragged.” The man’s throat moved, but not much sound came out. “Down. Some were still alive. Some were still screaming.”

A Stonewatch soldier cursed under his breath.

“How many were taken?” Rusk asked.

The man shook his head.

“I didn’t count.” His breath caught in his throat. “I ran.”

An honest answer.

More useful than false courage.

The man tried to breathe. Blood leaked from the corner of his mouth.

“The ones who fell...” he said. “The ones they couldn’t carry...”

His trembling hand moved toward his own chest.

“Their chests were split open.”

Neira covered her mouth.

Alden closed his eyes.

The man stared at Rusk as if afraid he would not be believed.

“I don’t know why,” he said. “I didn’t wait to see.”

That was not a report.

It was the remaining memory of a man who had fled before his city finished being eaten.

Enough for me.

Monsters from below. Living people dragged away. Corpses left with their chests open.

No answers yet.

Only a pattern.

Mirae stood a few steps behind Rusk. For the first time since the conversation began, her face truly changed.

“Priest Calvar?” she asked.

The man from Barrowford looked at her, trying to recognize the name.

“Calvar...” he said. “The priest from Stonewatch.”

Mirae took half a step forward. “Is he alive?”

“The cemetery...” The man’s lips trembled. “The ground opened from below.”

Mirae stopped.

The man coughed, then his body swayed. Not because of wounds that would kill him, but because he had spent too long holding fear, blood, and exhaustion on the back of a dying horse.

“Calvar...” he said again. “They took several people below. He... he was still screaming when I ran.”

Mirae closed her eyes for a moment.

This time, not because of calculation. She knew that name, and that person might still be alive.

That made it worse.

Rusk looked toward the road to Barrowford. Barrowford was not far. Too close to call someone else’s problem.

“When?” Rusk asked.

The man from Barrowford swallowed a breath with difficulty.

“Night,” he said. “When the city began to sleep.”

Karez said quietly, “The same night.”

Rusk did not answer. He did not need to.

After that, the man from Barrowford nearly gave out. He was half-conscious, his body propped up so it would not collapse completely.

Stonewatch had nearly been destroyed from outside. Barrowford had been opened from below.

It was not proof.

But it was enough to make me move.