Roll managed to gather the Dark Deviders, leading them in a tense hurried formation toward Yot's Tavern, but they ran headlong into a problem… The infiltrators were already there, and in control. On the inside, Yot was on her knees, two members of Shadow of the Moon holding a blade poised at each of her shoulders.
The eighteen Dark Deviders were all left stunned to see their people, some more than others. Roll left deeply uneasy, even so he was optimistic, so stepped forward.
"My brethren... It's good to see you all again. Please—I must speak with your Under-hand," Roll said, his voice clear and carrying.
The Shadow of the Moon members' gazes were stern and riveted, not a single one offering a word in reply, only cold, disciplined silence.
Roll was then swiftly alerted by a tense whisper from a fellow Dark Devider at his side. The Under-hands he sought were approaching with casual, deliberate intent. Cag's eyes, sharp and evaluating, glared over the small group.
"To think some of you lived?" Cag snickered, the sound low and mocking. "I thought the Guardian claimed every last one of you... You could only imagine my surprise." His voice was eerie calm, so measured it felt like a blade slowly drawn, every syllable laced with embedded, venomous malice.
Cag inhaled deeply, the sound long and deliberate in the tense quiet. "Now... Do any of you have an explanation?" He inquired, his voice deceptively soft.
Before a breath could be drawn to answer, he swiftly snapped, "A proper one." His eyes beamed with sudden, piercing intensity, stripping away any pretense of patience.
Roll felt a sense of deep anger and resentment boiling up from his core hot and unstoppable, forcing him forward to confront them. He gritted his teeth, glaring with raw, unshielded fury.
"You want to know what happened?" You Want To Know So Bad?!" His voice cracked emotion. "We Suffered. You sent us all to die—we didn't stand a chance in shit..." He furiously exclaimed, tears swelling in his eyes. "If not for... If not for him, you'd all be dead... or even worse, still living with you monsters."
Stulte's face contorted in complete anger, disbelief that Roll would dare raise his voice at them twisting his features. "You worthless piece of—" He blitzed forward in a burst of motion, his hand snapping out to grab Roll by the throat, ready to cut off any further words.
Stulte lifted him off the ground, leaving his feet to dangle. Even this force, it only cemented what Roll already knew deep down and knew even that last flicker of hope he had faded. "Y—None... We..."
Stulte squeezed harder in response to these squeaking from his mouth.
Roll smiled, a weary, strangely content expression on his face even as he choked. "Never... Loved."
Before Stulte could deliver a finishing blow, two Dark Deviders from the group burst forward, their heavy fists swinging in unison to slam into Stulte's face with brutal force. The impact made him release Roll and sent him stumbling back to Cag's side.
The pair quickly dragged the coughing, gasping Roll back to the group, shielding him with their bodies. Stulte snarling and ready to lunge again, was stopped with a simple stretched out arm from Cag.
"Be calm," Cag said, his voice a low, controlled amusement. "Remember..."
Stulte's rage didn't vanish, but it banked like a suppressed fire. "Uh... Yes," He replied, his eyes glued to the group.
"This behaviour... Is it because of him? This 'leader.' Hmm. We should not rule out mind control now. It would be deeply shameful for us Dark Deviders to follow such a lowly being," Cag said, his tone clinical, dismissive.
Inside the tavern, Yot was still on her knees, but her gaze was steady. "This is cowardly," She said, her voice clear and cutting.
"Excuse me?" One of the Shadow members guarding her snapped, blade pressing closer.
"This is cowardly," Yot repeated, unwavering. "Not even giving me the chance to fight back. It makes sense—I would have eas—"
Before she could finish, the blades were lifted from her shoulders.
"You dare," the shadow member who spoke up first growled. "Stand. Give her your weapon. To call me a coward, when you betrayed us?"
The other Shadow member complied, handing off his weapon. The moment Yot's fingers closed around the hilt, she didn't prepare, she threw it with great force, shocking the Shadow member who had spoken. He had barely blocked the blade, almost stumbling over himself.
In the same motion, Yot spun, her body a coiled spring, and delivered a powerful fist to the second captor's midsection. The impact sent him right through the wall in a shower of splitters. To finish, she pivoted and rushed the remaining member to knock him down with her forearm.
"Maybe not a coward," Yot muttered to herself, a faint smirk touching her lips. She moved towards the door, but before she could reach it, the door swung open, and more members of Shadow stepped inside—not just from the entrance, but also climbing through the gaping hole in the wall she just created.
She took a slow step back, her eyes scanning the newly filled room. "Uh... Wonderful," She sighed, the word heavy with dry, resigned irony.
Blazing through the forest like a lost maniac, Imuru searched desperately for any signs of Arken and the missing Dark Deviders.
"This is surely some kind of prank. I mean... It's Arken. Yeah, I'm probably worried about nothing. He'll pop back out, get his laugh, and that'll be it," Imuru thought, trying to convince himself.
He came to an abrupt stop, hands on his knees as he caught his breath, managing to calm his racing heart. "Geez. I can practically hear him now: 'The Great Demon Lord fooled by my most basic hiding technique'—he'd definitely say something like that."
During this little stop, Imuru's ears caught the soft crunch of a footfall behind him. He turned promptly, expecting, his eyes glimpsing—of what he was certain was a Dark Devider. He gave chase immediately, following the figure as if darted through the trees, right out into a sun-drenched clearing.
There, the fleeing individual came to a stop beside a man that Imuru was certain was also a Dark Devider. Beside this man was the primal ancestor of the Dark Deviders, standing upright, 12ft tall, covered in thick, shaggy fur and wielding dense, natural armour that plates their arms and legs like living stone. Equipped with heavy tails for balance and raw power.
This was quite the perplexing scene, but nonetheless Imuru approached with his hands raised. "Hello!" He shouted, stopping as he thought he came close enough. "I'm Imuru. Nice to meet you."
The man in the middle had a smug grin on his face. He simply glanced at the woman on his right, to which she stepped forward.
"This is the Head-hand of our settlement, Arg," The woman introduced. "And I am Linira, his Lent Head-hand."
"He's disappointed and dissatisfied with what he sees. My Lord had high expectations in mind for what you would look like."
"Disappointed..." Imuru murmured, more to himself than anyone. He wasn't quite sure what was going on, though he knew with certainty that he'd never seen these Dark Deviders before.
"I'm sorry to disappoint! This is me."
Arg glanced up at the towering Dark Devider Enchin beside him—a simple look, but it was all the signal needed. The creature's low growl rumbled deep within its throat, a sound like grinding stones, and it took a heavy, deliberate step forward, its massive weight shifting in sheer predatory intent.
"Wow, wow, wow," Imuru said, his voice a mix of shock and defensive amusement. The Enchin didn't hesitate—it threw its fist at where Imuru stood, but in a blink of an eye, Imuru was right behind the Enchin. He didn't take the advantage of this opening, as the creature's tail swung around in a follow-up blow, Imuru simply ducked under it with fluid ease, the tail whistling harmlessly over his head.
"Hey, what's going on—can we talk about this?!" Imuru pleaded, his voice straining as he continuously dodged another swing from the Enchin.
"Lord Arg would appreciate it," Linira called out coolly from the sidelines, "If you do not try to speak with him. He finds it... highly disrespectful."
"Well, this guy sure thinks highly of himself," Imuru thought, executing a graceful backflip to create a burst of distance.
"So that's it?!" Imuru spread his arms wide in a gesture of frustrated appeal. "What's even all this aggression about?"
"Beside the fact you're a Dark Divider," Imuru mumbled, at the irony.
The Enchin closed the distance again, forcing Imuru back into motion. Still, the creature was far too sluggish, to be of an significant threat, and Imuru in his characteristic way, felt kind enough to air out the obvious to the aggressive party
"Hey! I'm sorry to break it to ya, but this really is never gonna work. Sure you don't wanna step in? Big guy here might be getting a bit tired," Imuru said, his tone mockingly playful, laced with a bright, needling edge.
He got a reaction—Arg's head tilted just slightly, a minute shift in his stoic posture. Arg's eyes flicked to Linira, and with a silent cue, she stepped forward.
"There... Maybe they can give this big guy a rest," Imuru thought, coming to a relaxed stop as the Enchin halted its assault, huffing heavily.
Linira removed a long-bladed thrusting dagger from the folds of her clothes, the metal gleaming coldly upon her arming herself. She was swift in motion, a clear step up in speed and finesse compared to the Enchin, yet this was nothing Imuru couldn't handle. The blade thrust past Imuru's head in a silver streak, but he evaded in nonchalance, grabbed her extended arm in mid-lunge, and used her momentum to toss her over his shoulder, slamming her to the ground with a ground-breaking crash.
Imuru turned to Arg, a casual, almost playful smile on his face. He went to take a step, but his balance faltered—he almost stumbled over himself as a wave of dizziness washed through him. Feeling something cold and wet run down his arm, he looked at his sleeve and saw the fabric had been cleanly sliced through, and a thin, precise line of blood was now welling beneath it.
"Poison..." Imuru dropped to one knee, huffing as a cold sweat broke over his skin. "Ugh!" He took a deep, shuddering breath and pushed himself back up to his feet, his stance wobbling unsteadily.
Linira rolled smoothly back to her feet, retreating a few steps to reassess. "You're skilled, clearly... I'll assure you, there is only one outcome here."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. That's not happening..." Imuru thought, his annoyance rising faster than the toxin. He took another deliberate breath. He glanced back at Linira, his eyes narrowing disapprovingly.
[System Recognition: Imuru has survived toxin exposure]
[Poison Resistance Attained]
"Uh? That's… good." Imuru's shocked expression turned to a sinister smirk, eyeing Linira.
"Linira. Nice name." Imuru lifted his head confidently, resting his hands on his hips. "Now, I'm not angry. We were put in a difficult situation." He lowered his head focusing his attention on Arg. "The real issue here is your leader. Unfortunate don't you think? This unnecessary violence. I won't call him incompetent, maybe lost."
"Hm. Considering you're not dead, you must at least be worth speaking to," Arg said, his voice overly laid with confidence, each word deliberate and self-assured.
"I wasn't really interested in coming," He continued, "but when I heard of your so-called 'Greatness', I had to come see for myself. Great Demon Lord, he said. Hmph. I've yet to see anything... Great."
Behind him, Linira tended to attack but stopped abruptly once Arg raised a restraining hand.
"I'm not great? Fine with me. I just want my people to be safe and happy... To protect them," Imuru replied, his voice steady.
"Your people?" Arg mumbled back. "Then you must have the power. Those are words you shouldn't say lightly in a world like this. Here, I'll prove to you why." Arg removed his capelet, letting it fall to the ground as he stepped forward, his presence expanding with palpable intent.
Imuru shook his head subtly. "We don't have to fight... seriously. We could spar."
"Spar?" Arg said extremely calmly, but his words dripped with contempt. "Won't do. People like you, Imuru, get yourselves in situations that do not concern you. This forest had been in our sights for years. Now, with the Guardian gone, it's prime for taking. Would you be willing to stand back and allow me to do as I please?" He paused, his eyes hardening. "If not, draw your sword."
Imuru didn't protest, slowly he reached for his weapon, unsheathing his broken sword, making his decision clear.