Like the hollowness that follows a bout of passionate lovemaking, what Shan felt when he opened his eyes after collapsing from exhaustion was not excitement, but emptiness. It felt as though every last bit of strength had drained from his body.

Judging by the sunlight filtering through the leaves to tickle his face, the sun was already high overhead.

"Ugh..."

He had never shirked physical labor, but last night's exertions must have been too much. Every muscle in his body hurt as though it might tear apart. There were stinging patches here and there, too, perhaps from the attacks that had grazed him.

At least he hadn't been eaten by wolves or monsters during the night. That was probably thanks to the village hunter, who regularly patrolled the woods to drive off dangerous beasts. Offering a silent word of thanks that could no longer reach its recipient, Shan staggered toward the dead bandits.

Surprisingly, even the sight of spilled entrails crawling with insects did not make him particularly nauseous. The smell was simply rather foul.

'It's just like looking at an animal someone hunted.'

Was it because he had realized that the hulking men who had terrified him until yesterday were actually absurdly slow and weak? Or because the previous night, when he had committed all these atrocities, didn't feel real? Even as those thoughts ran through his head, his body was naturally searching the corpses, stripping off clothes and emptying their belongings, with the same lack of hesitation he had shown when butchering animals the hunter brought back.

The very first thing he collected was the scabbard that matched his first trophy, the bandit captain's sword. He took the leather trousers from the shortest of the archers killed last night, put them on, and attached the scabbard. The result looked quite respectable. He also collected a short spear of a manageable length, a dagger he could easily hide inside his clothes, and a mace that had felt good to wield.

That, however, was the extent of his worthwhile finds. All the other clothes were either far too big or too badly torn to wear, and there was nothing valuable and easy to carry, such as money, gems, or jewelry. Even the man who seemed to be their captain had nothing of the sort.

'Maybe buying all those weapons made them so poor they decided to turn to banditry?'

Privately impressed by his own keen deduction, Shan first made a meal of the dry rations he found on several corpses. He stuffed some dried grain, meat, and vegetables into his mouth and washed them down with water from a smelly leather waterskin. That made them passably easy to swallow.

"Urp."

It was a meal he couldn't have called delicious even as a joke, but to Shan it tasted like heavenly food. Perhaps it was because he had expended so much energy while already starving, but without it, he felt he might have chewed on the bandits' flesh.

His happiness at the unfamiliar sensation of a full stomach lasted only briefly. Now he had to work out how to carry as many of the usable items as possible. After tearing up a few pieces of clothing and tying them together, he put in the relatively intact weapons and several suits of leather armor. It made a serviceable bundle.

"Ngh."

He walked for ten minutes or so with his burden clanking away before the ruined village finally came into view. Most of the wooden buildings had burned down to their frames.

'Doesn't look like anyone's alive.'

Then again, even if anyone had survived, they would have fled far away rather than stayed here. They wouldn't want to risk the bandits returning.

After making a circuit of the village to search for survivors, Shan returned to the square and looked down at the body sprawled nearby.

"Father..."

He had been one of the few people in this village who pitied the sinful Altoan orphan boy instead of despising him.

Shan wondered what the priest would have thought of him defeating the bandits with demonic power. Would he have said it was all right to use an evil power for a good purpose? Or would he have said the Goddess willed Shan to meekly submit to the blade?

A little later, Shan found a shovel that had survived the fire without melting and dug the priest a grave behind the church. He couldn't make a headstone, since he couldn't write, but he could at least pray as he had been taught, asking that the man's soul ascend to the Goddess's temple. As he stood quietly with his eyes closed in prayer, he remembered the teachings the priest had imparted with such sorrow.

'I really was a devil's child.'

The pleasure of killing and violence he had felt last night was still vivid, as was the exhilaration that had filled his head to bursting. How could someone who enjoyed killing people like this be anything but a devil? Now he understood why people shunned Altoans so much.

With a complicated mixture of self-loathing and relief in his heart, Shan prayed before the grave for a long time.

Once the priest's funeral was over, he rummaged through the village for anything worth taking, just as he had searched the bandits' bodies. He left the villagers' corpses where they lay, feeling no particular desire to tend to them. There was little to be gained here either, however. The sacks of grain and seasoned timber that represented real wealth had long since turned to ash. His only worthwhile finds were a few melted pieces of gold and silver coins from the homes of the Chief and other prominent villagers, along with silver candlesticks and plates used for religious ceremonies at the church.

'I'm sorry, Father. But if I leave these here, someone will steal them anyway.'

After offering a prayer of atonement to the Goddess and the priest, Shan hoisted the bundle of assorted belongings onto his back and left the village—a wholly free person, beholden to no one.

* * *

Truth be told, Shan had never once left the village in his life. As a small child, he had been an unwanted burden in the Chief's household; once he was old enough to know better, he had been tied to the village as an unpaid laborer working ceaselessly for its sake. In other words, he knew absolutely nothing about the world outside. He didn't even know where the neighboring village with which the villagers occasionally dealt was, how to get there, or what lay beyond it.

All he knew of was the southern continent where elephants lived, which Selina had told him about, and the land of monsters far to the east that Priest Ador had once mentioned. That knowledge was utterly useless when he didn't even know which way was south or east.

So Shan followed the dirt path stretching out from the village entrance, worn naturally into the grass by frequent foot traffic. As he walked, he considered his next destination.

'Maybe I should try finding Selina.'

She was the only person he knew outside the village, so it was an option worth considering. Of course, to her, Shan was probably nothing more than a shabby little orphan who used to listen to her show off...

How long had he walked, lost in thought? He noticed the sun was beginning to set and his surroundings were growing dark. He had woken late, then spent a great deal of time on the funeral and searching the village. Shan decided to walk a little farther before spending the night by the road. Darkness didn't hamper his vision, but surely no village would welcome a visitor arriving at night anyway. Besides, his muscles were still sore enough to make walking difficult.

At least summer was approaching. Had it been cold, he would have needed to light a fire, and he didn't know how. All he knew was that something was supposed to happen if you struck and rubbed stones together. He tried a few times without much success.

He wrapped himself in the bandit captain's cloak, which he had been using to bundle his belongings, leaned against a fairly large tree, and closed his eyes. Several hours later, a chill down his spine woke him from a sound sleep. A crude stone axe—a rock lashed to wood with something like vines—was coming down at his head.

"Urgh!"

He quickly jerked his head back out of the way and kicked the cloak forward off his body. A sharp screech rang out.

His attacker was a monster about as tall as a person's waist, with gaping nostrils and no bridge to its nose, protruding teeth, and long ears. More of them surrounded Shan, threatening him with gleaming black eyes that had no whites.

[KRAAK! KYAK! GRRR!]

This was his first time seeing one in person, but he had heard descriptions of their appearance several times, so identifying them wasn't difficult. Goblins: lowly monsters said to be common in forests and fields. He had heard they were too frightened to attack even a small group of sturdy men. Apparently, seeing Shan alone, small, and without a fire had made them think they could take him.

Shan snorted at their brutish bluster.

"You dare?"

Yesterday might have been another matter, but now that he had brought down numerous warriors bigger and stronger than himself, there was no chance he would be frightened.

The creatures charged with their crude weapons of stone lashed to wood, only to flee in terror when Shan casually swung his sword and chopped two of them apart in an instant.

"Oh."

In the process, Shan exclaimed in admiration as he realized that his first trophy, the bandit captain's sword, was even better than he had thought. Goblins might be small and weak, but they were still animals the size of dogs, and the blade had cut through them with astonishing ease.

He suspected he could easily cut even a human in half, provided they weren't wearing armor. Still, repeatedly cutting through bone would soon damage the edge, so it was best to avoid that whenever possible.

He had only just wiped the blood off on a dead goblin's reddish-brown skin and put things in order when he looked around and clicked his tongue. More animals had gathered: foxes, lynxes, even wolves. Apparently, all the beasts too afraid of the hunter to approach the village were lurking around here.

When he tossed them the two goblin corpses, a few growled and claimed the bodies, while the rest vanished into the woods with mournful cries. In any case, today's lesson was clear: falling asleep unprotected in the forest at night was ridiculously dangerous.

* * *

The next morning, Shan woke and walked for another couple of hours before finally reaching another village. More precisely, he reached the ruins of what had once been a village.

"Ah..."

Given how much it resembled Willow Village, the attackers were probably the same bandits. The only difference was the swarms of insects and the foul stench, perhaps because another day or so had passed here. Apparently, they had attacked this place, then come to raid Willow Village a day later.

Was this the village Selina had married into? Or did he need to go farther? He wished there were at least someone he could ask, but with not a single survivor around, there was no way to know.

'Where am I supposed to go now?'

He was running low on the rations he had taken from the bandits' corpses. He needed to sell his things and buy food.

As he pondered this, someone cried out in the distance.

"There's someone over there!"

"Hey! You there! Stay right where you are!"

Men came running toward him, shouting urgently. About half carried proper weapons, while the rest had farming tools. There were a full sixty or so of them.

"What? It's a kid!"

"You know something about the people who attacked this village, don't you?"

"Where did you get all those weapons?"

As the men rushed up and tried to surround him, Shan held out the short spear he had been using as a walking stick to keep them back.

"Don't come any closer."

The men narrowed their eyes at his defensive posture.

"His clothes are covered in blood, and what's a little brat doing with all those weapons...? Suspicious, isn't it?"

"Didn't he steal them from the village?"

Faced with the rude men muttering among themselves, Shan drew a breath and gathered his courage. Otherwise, he felt he might bow and lapse into groveling at any moment.

"And who are you people?"

Oops. That sounded far too cheeky. Apparently, Shan wasn't alone in thinking so. The men looked distinctly offended, but answered his question nonetheless. The spear pointed at them probably helped a great deal.

"We're the Leaf Village militia."

"We heard Mountainshade Village here had been attacked by bandits, so we came to help."

After those answers, a middle-aged man who seemed to be their spokesman stepped forward with a question.

"Now it's your turn. Do you know anything about the attack on this village?"

"First, put that damned spear down... Argh!"

A large, bearded man beside him interrupted and slyly reached out to grab the spear, only to cry out. Shan had flicked his wrist and slashed the man's palm with the spearhead.

The sight of blood brought menacing looks to the militiamen's eyes, but Shan refused to back down. In a slightly trembling voice, he made his position clear.

"I told you not to come closer. If you try to touch me, I'll attack."

Even if they were scarecrows who could barely control their own bodies, he wouldn't be able to resist if they took his weapons. His light frame couldn't put enough force behind a punch or kick to stop them.

Perhaps they took his attitude for arrogance, because the militiamen all began shouting and thrusting their weapons toward him at once.

"This little bastard's working for the bandits!"

"Grab him and cut off his hand!"

"Stop! Stop! Everyone calm down! What are you doing to a frightened child?!"

Fortunately, the man who had acted as their spokesman intervened in time to prevent an armed clash. Though it was hard to say which side was fortunate.

Once things had calmed down a little, the militia's spokesman addressed him with more respect than before.

"I'm Orgo, Chief of Leaf Village."

"I'm Shan. I live in Willow Village."

"Willow Village... That's south of Mountainshade Village."

As he spoke, Orgo glanced back, and one of the men behind him asked a question.

"What's the name of Willow Village's hunter?"

"Mr. Bon."

"And the woodcutter Jeksen's wife?"

"Mary."

"Both right."

Once Shan had proven that he was a resident of a nearby village rather than some drifter of unknown origins, the explosive atmosphere eased somewhat. But only briefly. The man who had questioned him suddenly exclaimed as though something had dawned on him.

"Wait, I thought I'd heard the name Shan before. You're that Alto brat they keep in Willow Village, aren't you?"

"What? An Altoan? They've got strong stomachs."

"But he looks normal. He hasn't got horns or anything."

The distinctive quality of Shan's eyes only showed itself in the dark, so out here in a field at midday, he looked no different from an ordinary person.

As the men grew confused, Orgo quickly changed the subject.

"All right, Shan. Could you tell us where you got those things? And why you're out here on your own instead of in Willow Village?"

Unlike before, his tone was now that of someone soothing a child.

Shan hesitated briefly, then obediently explained the situation: the bandits' sudden attack, the villagers dying helplessly, and how he had defeated the attackers in the ensuing fight before leaving the village. The response to his story was exactly what he had expected. Disbelieving laughter, followed by mockery.

"What a load of nonsense."

"At least make your lies believable, kid."

It was perfectly plausible that the bandits who had attacked this place had gone on to attack Willow Village. But that there had been only a dozen or so of them, that more than forty or fifty able-bodied village men had died without even putting up a proper fight, and that Shan had then killed those formidable bandits single-handedly—none of that was remotely believable. How could a boy of eleven or twelve at most, so scrawny that the joints of his limbs stood out, possibly do such a thing?

Altoans might be descendants of devils who wielded evil magic, but everyone knew they weren't capable of that. If they were, they would already rule the world.

"You don't have to believe me, but I haven't lied."

"Bullshit!"

The large man whose palm Shan had slashed strode forward, shouting. He must have stopped the bleeding in the meantime; strips of cloth were wrapped tightly around his right hand.

"Rodam, calm down a little..."

"Calm down, my ass! How long are we going to let him jerk us around? He obviously hid in some corner during the fighting and stole a few weapons afterward!"

The fuming giant turned his gaze on Shan.

"You! Put down that spear and get on your knees right now, or I'll kill you! I won't go easy on you just because you're a little brat!"

"So you weren't going easy on me when I cut your hand earlier?"

Shan was briefly taken aback by the sarcasm that had slipped out of his own mouth. Then he saw veins bulging all over the giant's face. The man snatched a pitchfork from the companion beside him and charged with a roar.

'What should I do?'

Should he give the man another light warning? But that could be dangerous if his opponent decided to endure a small wound and keep coming. Once they were close enough to grapple, strength and weight would decide the outcome, not agility or reflexes.

His deliberation was brief. Sensing that the man was truly thrusting at him without caring whether he died, Shan abandoned any thought of showing the same mercy as before.

CLANG!

The spearhead and pitchfork locked and twisted together. At that instant, one hand slipped free of the spear and smoothly closed around his sword hilt.

"Aaaaargh!"

With a scream, the giant's arm fell to the ground, twitching.