On the edge of the Black Forest, a pair of eyes was peering at the peaceful little village.
Karas, the elite scout of the Plague Legion, known by the alias “Shadow Demon,” was currently lying on the branch of a withered tree, observing the seemingly tranquil village.
“That fool, Ragnar, actually fell in a place like this.”
Karas let out a disdainful snort.
In his view, the Flame Demon General must have underestimated the enemy, fallen into some sort of human magical trap— and then there was that traitor Iris… who would have thought she was hiding out in such a backwater.
Karas licked his lips and silently infiltrated the village.
His mission was simple: find out the truth and bring back the traitor.
If he encountered any resistance, he’d just slaughter this place while he was at it.
After all, these fragile humans didn’t even have a chance to scream before him.
Karas prowled up onto the roof of the blacksmith’s shop.
Heat waves rolled up from below. A bare-chested human blacksmith was forging metal.
“Hmph, a lowly craftsman.”
Just as Karas was about to leave, his gaze inadvertently swept over the tool in the blacksmith’s hand.
That blacksmith wasn’t using a hammer. Instead, he was gripping something that radiated terrifying heat… Wasn’t that the Flame Demon’s thighbone?!
Karas nearly slid off the roof.
This horrifying blacksmith was treating the Flame Demon’s indestructible leg bone like a red-hot piece of metal.
Every time he struck it, the fire element inside the bone erupted, perfectly enchanting the metal.
“How is that possible?”
Karas rubbed his eyes.
That was the bone of a high-ranking demon! It carried a self-inflicting burn damage! An ordinary human who touched it would turn to charcoal!
Was this blacksmith’s hand made of dragon hide?
Shaken but not yet broken, Karas continued his stealth approach, passing by a general store.
A human woman was holding a red crystal, placing it under a teapot.
“The water’s boiling.”
The woman yawned, then casually tossed the crystal into a basin of cold water. White steam rose.
“Is that Lord Ragnar’s demon core?!”
She was using it to boil water?!
Karas’s worldview was crumbling.
Was this a human village? It was more terrifying than a demon lair!
Still trembling, Karas made his way to the church’s backyard, then froze at the sight before him.
In the yard stood a young boy and a little girl.
“All set?”
Celia looked at the brand-new broadsword in Elent’s hands.
The blade was wide and heavy, its edge radiating a bone-chilling cold.
Set into the guard was half of a crystalline Flame Demon’s Ice Horn.
As Elent gently swung it, the surrounding air instantly condensed into tiny ice crystals.
Faintly, one could almost hear the Flame Demon General’s resentful roar echoing along the blade.
Karas trembled in the shadows.
That was an absolute divine weapon!
Sealed within it were the Flame Demon General’s soul and mana—a cursed magic sword capable of cleaving a volcano!
They forged such a deadly weapon just to slaughter even more demons!
“Test the sword,” Celia’s voice came.
“Yes!”
Elent gripped the hilt with both hands, his expression solemn.
Battle Aura merged with the blade’s icy energy, forming a terrifying storm.
Karas’s eyes went wide.
Here it comes! The sword test!
Would it cleave the earth? Or tear through the void?
Celia produced a perfectly round watermelon from behind her and placed it on a designated cutting point.
“Aim carefully. Don’t cut it crooked.”
“Understood.” Elent held his breath and focused, activating Microscopic Perception to its fullest.
“Ha!”
The broadsword fell like a shadow.
The cold burst forth. The watermelon, originally at room temperature, was instantly penetrated by the blade’s extreme cold as it split.
The melon cleaved perfectly in two.
A thin layer of frost covered the red flesh, and wisps of cold air rose.
“Chilled watermelon, complete.” Elent sheathed the broadsword, the entire movement fluid and seamless.
Celia touched the cut surface of the watermelon.
“The temperature is just right.” The young girl nodded in satisfaction.
“Looks like Uncle Barton’s skills haven’t dulled. From now on, if I want cold fruit, I won’t have to wait for the freezer.”
Hiding in the corner of the wall, Karas’s jaw had dropped.
What was he seeing?
A divine weapon that sealed the Flame Demon’s soul was being used to cut a watermelon?! And it was even supposed to cool it down?!
What kind of humiliation was this?! What kind of brutality!
Lord Ragnar, what a miserable death you’ve died!
“Want some?”
Celia picked up a slice of the cut watermelon, but instead of eating it herself, she brought it to Elent’s lips.
“I don’t…” Elent started to refuse.
“Help me taste if it’s ripe enough.” Celia shoved it into his mouth without room for argument.
Elent was forced to take a bite.
“Is it sweet?”
“Sweet.”
“Good.”
Only then did Celia lean in. Instead of taking a new slice, she bit a small piece from the same slice Elent had bitten, right at the red tip.
Red watermelon juice trickled from the corner of her mouth, dripping onto the back of Elent’s hand that held the sword hilt.
That streak of bright red stood out starkly against his pale skin.
“Mm, it’s pretty sweet.” Celia chewed with her cheeks puffed, then furrowed her brow slightly.
“There are seeds.”
“Spit them here.” Elent naturally extended his other hand, palm open.
“Pfft.” Without any mental burden, Celia spat the black watermelon seed into Elent’s palm.
“One more.”
“Pfft.” Another one.
Elent looked at the watermelon seeds in his palm, along with the tiny, glistening drops of moisture stained on them.
His face reddened, but his eyes were as tender as if he were holding some rare treasure.
But in Karas’s eyes, this scene transformed into something else entirely.
Drinking blood! She was devouring the flesh and blood of that “curse”!
And that fearsome knight wielding the magic sword actually humbly offered his hand to catch the dregs spat out by the witch!
Even a warrior that powerful was willing to be her slave—what in the world was this witch’s true form?!
“Iris, come eat too.” Celia turned and called out.
Iris came running over from the side, still holding half-eaten watermelon in her hand, her lips stained with red juice, grinning like an idiot.
Karas was utterly defeated.
Iris wasn’t captured—she had fallen!
“No, I have to bring this intel back!” This village was definitely forbidden ground!
That witch was a monster even more terrifying than Lord Ragnar!
Unable to endure this psychological assault any longer, Karas scrambled over the wall in panic, fleeing into the depths of the Black Forest at the fastest speed of his life.
In his rush, he even tripped while climbing the wall.
“What was that sound?”
Elent turned alertly, his hand resting on the sword hilt.
“Probably a stray cat.” Celia took another bite of watermelon, speaking indistinctly.
“Don’t worry about it. Cut another one.”
“Yes, Priestess.”
The broadsword rose once more.
A flash of cold light passed, and another innocent watermelon became a victim beneath this peerless cursed blade.
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