Behind them, the estate gave one final shudder—the roof collapsing inward with a thunderous crash. Chase didn't look back. The skin sculptor's severed arm twitched in the debris, fingers curling like a dying spider.
The granary loomed ahead, its heavy oak doors reinforced with Harold's hastily-scrawled barrier runes. Inside, muffled sobs and hushed voices bled through the cracks. Shiva rapped her knuckles against the wood—three sharp taps, then two slow ones. The barricade slid open just enough to reveal Harold's haggard face, his missing arm now crudely cauterized with paste.
To the sides of him guards armed with crossbows, swords and well as daryl with a newfound sword.
Hendrickson was asleep in a corner.
Harold's gaze flicked over Chase's ruined knuckles, Damian's still-smoking axes, the way Andrew swayed on his feet. His remaining hand tightened on the doorframe. "Lost the arm, kept the people. Fair trade."
Inside, children whimpered as Mary pressed bloodstained bandages against a farmer's split ribs. The little girl from the basement clutched a splintered chair leg like a sword, her tear-streaked face smeared with soot. Daryl's new blade—a curved monstrosity forged from melted-down guard gear—gleamed dully in the lantern light.
Harold limped aside to let them pass. "The blind one?" he asked quietly, watching Shiva's grip tighten on her notched sword.
"Dead," Chase rasped, sagging against a grain sack. His fingers left blackened prints on the burlap. "Mostly."
Harold's remaining hand twitched toward the dagger at his belt. "Mostly?"
Damian tossed his axes onto a pile of salvaged weapons with a clatter. "Core's cracked, but not crushed. Like stomping on a roach and missing half its legs." He wiped demonic sludge off his face, smearing it across his cheek instead. "It'll be back."
Mary's hands trembled as she tightened a tourniquet around Harold's stump. The child beside her whimpered at the black veins spiderwebbing beneath Chase's skin. Andrew noticed—and deliberately stepped between them, his dissolving blood-armor still clinging to his frame like rusted chainmail.
Shiva began speaking, eager to give good news.
"At least we're mostly done with the monsters. Since he was controlling them, they probably stopped moving by now. Cut the head off the snake and all that."
Harold:"Now we just have to clean up the bodies im guessing."
Looking to the torchbearers, He continued. "Thank you for your help. Demons or not, you're heroes.
Seeing as your no longer able to move, you'll get some of the best beds we own at the moment. Stay here for a few days and we'll get you some meals while we do clean up."
Chase coughed again, a wet sound that made Andrew wince. "Heroes?" He spat a glob of blackened phlegm onto the hay-strewn floor. "Tell that to the Holy Church when they come sniffing around."
The granary fell silent except for the crackling torches. Mary's hands stilled mid-bandage. Even the traumatized child peeked out from behind Andrew's legs, her grip tightening on her makeshift weapon.
"For now, lets just get you all some rest, me and shiva will speak about what happens next."
Harold gestured toward the makeshift cots lining the granary's far wall—hay-stuffed sacks draped with moth-eaten blankets. Chase eyed them like they might bite. "Pass," he muttered, sliding down the wall instead. His spine hit the floor with a thud that sent fresh pain lancing up his ribs.
"Idiot, go to bed"
Andrew's boot nudged Chase's ribs—not hard, but enough to make him wheeze. Chase blinked up at him, one eye still flecked with vantriel's leftover obsidian. "What, you my nursemaid now?" His smirk cracked halfway, blood welling in the split.
"No," Andrew said, kicking him again, harder. "But if you bleed out on the floor, I'm not mopping you up." He jerked his chin toward the cots. "Move."
Chase groaned but rolled onto his knees, swaying like a drunk. Damian grabbed him by the collar before he faceplanted into the hay, dragging him toward the nearest cot. "Heroic," Chase slurred as Damian dumped him onto the thin mattress. "Real fucking heroic."
Shiva sighed "At least the hardest part is over"
She spoke as she walked toward Harold.
Turning toward her, Harold nodded. "Now we have to keep those three hidden, no doubt word of this will get out. It's up to us to prepare."
———
In a far away cathedral, moonlight illuminates the night, making the grey stone of the
cathedral look all the more majestic.
A haggard man, unable to stand from all the running he did was being dragged by two men towards said cathedral. As he was thrown in, he grunted before looking up.
A beautiful woman came into view. She had white hair and yellow eyes, the man felt as though he was committing a crime just by being in her presence.
Noticing his lack of speech, she looked annoyed at the guards. "What is it this man wants?" Stiffening, they quickly began speaking. "He came to the town asking for help madam, he mentioned something about monsters"
"Is it the undead? Send one of our holy mages to fight back against it. I'm trying to focus on one myself." Finally gaining the courage, the man on the ground yelled. "monsters, some have horns. Could be a demon!"
Everyone paused for a moment before the woman spoke. "Send down some scouts. If they don't touch down in 2 days we'll investigate further."