With sunrise came warmth and light. Dew shimmered on the leaves like pearls, and the village stirred to life. Men went to the forests with axes on their shoulders, while children guided cows and goats toward the open fields.
Jeremy came toward the shed while humming, a wooden bow slung over his shoulder. But as he entered the shed, he saw the cows and goats trembling. One goat was missing.
He crouched down and He picked it up. The fibers were smooth—too smooth for a snap.
He frowned, then shook his head. Old ropes fail in strange ways.
"Hmm… it must have escaped by breaking the old rope. Hah… I'll need to make a new, thicker one."
Then he loosened the knots of the other animals and guided them toward the field with a stick.
As he guided them, he noticed a crowd gathered under a tree. What's happening over there?
He let the cows and goats go on their own and ran toward the crowd. There, he found a neighbor uncle. "Uncle… Uncle!"
The uncle turned around and looked toward the source of the sound. Jeremy was running toward him. "What is it, Jeremy?"
He breathed raggedly after running and asked, "What happened, Uncle? A crowd this early in the morning?" He stared at the crowd discussing among themselves.
The uncle answered with a smile, "The devil has finally been slain."
He tilted his head in confusion and murmured, "Devil… slain…"
"I mean, Thomas Redyne, our former king, has finally been killed."
Jeremy stood rooted to the spot, astonishment carved into every line of his face. "What!? How?"
"Last night, the prime minister and a rebellion force set fire to the castle. That devil burned to ashes in his sleep." The uncle's lips curved upward as he crossed his arms, quietly pleased with the news.
Jeremy glared at his uncle and the others. Weirdos… how can someone be this happy about someone's death?
Is death… something to cheer for? Well, I should get back to my work.
He ran back to his cows and goats and led them to the open grassland.
---
In the temple, Pharon was levitating in the air, his eyes closed in deep meditation. Spheres of various elements—earth, fire, water, and many more—orbited around him.
"For a beginner, you have done very well." A weak, faint voice reached his ears. He slowly descended to the ground, and the spheres diminished into nothing.
He turned around. An old man sat on a stone, his hand brushing the fur of a black wolf.
He looked again at the wolf. Wait… this isn't a dog… no! This isn't even a wolf. It's a demonic wolf.
His eyes glued to the old man's hand rubbing its fur. Just how? He's patting a demonic wolf like a street dog.
The old man glanced at him and asked, "What's wrong? Are beasts not allowed in the temple?"
Pharon flinched at the sudden question, blinking once as his mind scrambled to catch up. He answered, "No… yes… I mean, it can be. The temple is open to everyone."
"I'm surprised it's here. Normally, demonic beasts live deep in the forest. But the most unbelievable thing is how it's behaving like this," he asked, his eyes darting toward the wolf's playful nature.
As the old man was about to answer, a venomous snake interrupted and climbed over him.
The old man pressed his lips together to stifle laughter, amusement flickering in his eyes. His finger gently rubbed the snake's head. "You naughty kid."
Pharon gulped. He looked around, sensing several more presences. An ominous feeling chilled his spine. Ghosts… demonic beasts… they're clustered here as if something is attracting them.
This should feel wrong… yet it doesn't.
He asked, stammering, "Mas-Master… what's going on?"
"They gather because I stand between what breathes and what does not."
Pharon squinted his eyes. What does that mean? Argh… never mind. He'll answer me directly.
Then, he picked up the broom and began his regular cleaning routine.
"Do you know your king has been killed?"
His hands froze, and he looked at the old man with astonishment. "Really!?"
The old man nodded and said, "The minister joined with a rebellion force and set the whole castle on fire while he was sleeping."
"Really strange. Just a few days ago, he conquered one of the largest countries and restored the former glory of Reister." He stared blankly at a certain spot. Then he turned to the old man and asked, "Master, is it possible he's still alive?"
The old man's lips lifted slightly. "Maybe. But why do you think so?"
"Because I've heard many rumors about him escaping death's door. Couldn't it be possible for him to escape this time, too?"
"I'll give you an answer, but first, tell me: do you think he was a tyrant and unfit to be king?"
Pharon pinched his chin and half-closed his eyes. Tyrant or not… He thought for a moment. "No, he was a tyrant, but a necessary one, and also a good king."
"Because of his tyranny, everyone feared him, so everyone was disciplined. During his rule, there were no negative impacts as far as I know. But people disliked him for these qualities and rumors."
The old man lightly tapped the ground with his wooden staff.
A small orb clustered in the air, hovering before them. Pharon stared at the orb. As he focused, an image appeared on its shiny surface.
At first, the image was blurred, but little by little, it grew clearer. A handsome man with blonde hair and a beard appeared. In one hand, he carried an axe, and in the other, a bundle of wood. He was walking toward a cottage built on the outskirts.
Then he knocked on the door. The door groaned open, and a woman with a warm smile stood there, holding out a towel.
Pharon looked for the old man to ask a question, but he was gone. Not only him, but the demonic beasts and the strange, ominous presence had also vanished, as if they had never been there. "Where did he go?"
When he looked back, the sphere had also vanished. He looked around and even searched outside the temple but found nothing. "What is he? A ghost? A devil? A spirit?"