The Serpent Crest

Leopold turned his head slightly, his gaze piercing through the tangled branches and leaves to lock onto the space behind a withered tree some two hundred paces away.

“...It's a rock python,” Oliver whispered, his face turning a shade paler. “An adult rock python can swallow a whole deer. Mr. Leopold, should we take a detour?”

Leopold narrowed his eyes. A massive python was lurking deep in the forest. It looked quite ferocious, but he wondered if its meat tasted any good.

“Oliver, your suggestion to take a detour makes sense, but—” Leopold paused. “We're currently penniless, and you're the only one who knows the way. If we want to survive, we need meat. We can't just chew on tree bark the whole time, can we?”

“B-but that's a rock python...” Oliver's voice grew softer and softer. “What if someone gets hurt...”

“I'll go first!” Blake had already dashed forward. Before the rock python behind the withered tree could even react, Blake leaped off a tree trunk, using the momentum to launch himself into the air. He spread the fingers of his right hand, and three ice spikes instantly materialized in his palm before he hurled them at the python's head.

The three ice spikes struck the side of the python's neck with pinpoint accuracy. The first broke through the defense of its scales, the second wedged beneath its skin, and the third pierced straight through its neck muscles, pinning it to the tree trunk behind!

“Too slow, too slow, too slow! Is this really the rock python that scared Oliver?” Blake burst into laughter. He flashed to the front of the python, looking down from above at the still-twitching body of the serpent. “This is way too weak!”

Leopold walked over slowly from behind. “Don't play around for too long. It's getting dark.”

“I know, I know.” Blake clenched his right hand, and another ice spike formed in his palm. He aimed it at the python's head. “Let's put it out of its misery...”

“Wait,” Isabella's voice came from behind. She walked over and crouched down to inspect the python's belly. “This snake just swallowed something. Its belly is still bulging.”

Blake paused and looked down. Sure enough, there was a distinct bulge in the python's belly.

“...Could it have eaten a human?” Oliver whispered from behind.

Leopold frowned. He stepped forward and used his shadow dagger to gently slice along the python's belly. A badge bearing a peculiar insignia fell out.

The moment Oliver saw the badge, he covered his mouth.

“The serpent emblem... T-this belongs to the Demon Race's legion!”

“The Demon Race's legion?”

Leopold immediately crouched down and picked up the badge with his fingertips. A coiled serpent was engraved on the metal surface, its head facing upward and its tail bifurcated. The craftsmanship was remarkably exquisite.

Leopold flipped the badge over. On the back, several lines of tiny text were engraved in the Ancient Common Tongue. The writing was heavily worn, but a few words could still be faintly made out:

Seventh... Patrol... Eastern Border...

“We're doomed, we're doomed. They're coming to capture slaves from the village again!” Oliver's face went pale. He stared at the badge, completely frozen in place, his lips trembling.

“...Capture slaves?” Leopold stood up, tossing the badge lightly in his palm. “Oliver, explain yourself.”

Oliver swallowed hard, his voice shaking so much he could barely form a coherent sentence. “The Demon Race... the Seventh Legion, Eastern Border Patrol. Every once in a while, they pass through this forest to go to nearby villages and... capture people.”

“Why do they capture them?”

“As slaves.” Oliver tried his best to calm down. “For the mines, farms, and... and gladiator arenas of the Eastern Border. They capture humans and other demi-humans. Cabin Village... Cabin Village has already been raided three times!”

He paused, then added, “The village chief... who is also my cousin, has been trying to find a way. But when the demon patrol comes, we can't do anything except hide in the cellar.”

“Aren't you a Mage Saint?” Blake asked in confusion, his grayish-blue eyes scanning Oliver up and down.

“...I-I still haven't fully recovered since I used Seventh-Circle magic last time. And,” he paused, his voice dropping even lower, “and I can't use magic in the village.”

“Why?” Blake pressed.

“Because... if the demons find out there's a half-elf Mage Saint in Cabin Village, they won't just send a patrol.”

Oliver looked up, a look of sheer seriousness in his grayish-green eyes that Leopold had never seen before. “They will send a real army. When that happens, the entire village will be razed to the ground.”

“That's how my mother's village was destroyed. I was completely powerless...”

“The Demon Race is naturally like this. It seems we've run into our first crisis since returning to the surface.” Leopold looked at Oliver. “How do they go about capturing slaves?”

“They don't just capture people. They surround the village first, herd everyone out, and pick them one by one,” Oliver recalled.

“Those who can work and those who look decent are bound and taken away. The rest—” He paused. “The rest are all killed...”

Leopold flipped the badge over again, took another look at the blurry writing on the back, and then clenched it in his palm.

“How many of them usually come?”

“For a patrol... about ten to fifteen,” Oliver recalled. “The leader is a demon officer, with a few sword-wielding infantrymen and one or two magic users under him.”

“That's it?” Blake raised an eyebrow. “A dozen or so demons are enough to scare your entire village into hiding in cellars?”

“Mr. Blake... they don't just capture people for labor,” Oliver's voice dropped. “They also pick out children with special talents and take them away to... undergo 'conversion'.”

“Conversion?”

“It means turning human children into magical beasts.” Oliver clenched his fists. “I saw it once with my own eyes. It's a terrifying magic.”

Leopold frowned. “In any case, let's head to the village first to assess the situation.”

The four of them made their way through the last stretch of underbrush, and their vision suddenly opened up.

A modest valley unfolded before them. Farmland was terraced along the hillsides, and the wheat in the fields had already headed out, shimmering with a greenish-yellow hue under the afternoon sun.

Cabin Village looked even more tranquil than Leopold had imagined—it could even be described as peaceful.

Standing at the edge of the woods, Oliver looked at the familiar outline of the settlement and let out a visible sigh of relief. “Thank goodness, it's still here.”

“Were you afraid we'd see a pile of ruins?” Blake walked up.

“...Every time I leave the village and return, I have that worry,” Oliver said. “I've gotten used to only being at ease when I see the cooking smoke rising.”

The group walked toward the village along a narrow path between the fields. A few middle-aged men weeding by the roadside looked up, and when they saw Oliver, expressions of pleasant surprise appeared on their faces.

“Mr. Oliver! You're back!”

“Yes, I'm back. These are some guests I've brought with me.” Oliver nodded to them. “Is the village chief around?”

The middle-aged man looked troubled, hesitating to speak.

“Is something wrong?” Oliver took the initiative to ask.

Instead of answering directly, the middle-aged man glanced toward the village before lowering his voice.

“Mr. Oliver, you've returned at a bad time. Hector and his gang have been making a huge fuss these past few days. Yesterday, they even brought people to block the village chief's door and rioted all night, demanding that the chief hand over... the village's stored grain.”

“Hand over the grain?” Blake frowned.

“Exactly! When the demons come to capture people, they're completely useless, but they're incredibly eager when it comes to robbing their own people!” another man said indignantly.

Before the villager's complaints could even settle, a series of heavy footsteps echoed from the direction of the village entrance.

A broad-shouldered, stout man strode out, followed by four or five equally burly ruffians. Holding wooden clubs and pitchforks, they swaggered over and blocked the entrance to the village.

“Oh, Oliver is back?” Hector's voice was loud and coarse. He grinned, revealing a mouth full of yellow teeth. “I thought you died out there. What's this? You went out and brought back these few people?”

“Pah!” one of the thugs spat, his gaze lingering on Isabella. “This girl is quite a catch!”

“You!” Isabella glared right back at him.

“What's that? You want to fight!” Hector took a step forward, raising the wooden club in his hand.

Blake was not one to tolerate this. Just as he decided to take action, a trembling figure came running over.

“Don't fight! Don't fight!” The village chief panted as he ran over.