Even Pellelian Was Aghast: The Once Peaceful Grayrim

A small but peaceful village. A humble domain without splendor. Such phrases had always described Grayrim Territory. But that was long in the past now.

These days, knights clad in silvery armor roamed the streets of Grayrim. Even on rainy days, they never removed their plate. The heavy tread of those armored knights cracked and shattered the slate paving stones of the roads. And that was just the beginning.

Gunter commanded not only the Iron Lion Knights but also private soldiers. These men now patrolled the outer walls in place of the territory's original guards. The lord had been dragged off to the capital. His most loyal retainers had been imprisoned on trumped-up charges, and some had even died resisting.

Ordinary villagers might think such matters didn't concern them. But reality was far harsher. A chill wind blew relentlessly from above.

Children no longer played joyfully in the streets. Rumble rumble.

It was a day of heavy rain. A robed child hurried along with quick steps, glancing nervously around. Her companion, a man walking beside her, blocked her anxious gaze.

They arrived at a mill nestled against the outer wall. On days like this, with the rain pouring so fiercely, even the mill took a break from work.

The child and the man stepped inside together. Only a few candles flickered, casting dim shadows. Several people were already gathered within.

The man and child shed their robes. The man was Oliver, Grayrim's finest hunter. The child was the lord's daughter, Lania Grayrim.

"Mother!"

The lord's wife was there too. Lania threw herself into her mother's arms. It had been ages since the mother and daughter had embraced.

"You've had a hard time of it, Oliver."

Oliver dipped his head in a brief bow of respect to the lady. Everyone gathered here was loyal to the lord. The Grayrim Viscount may not have been exceptional, but he had a true gift for winning hearts.

"Thank you all for coming."

At the lady's summons, they had gathered in secret to pool their strength.

"It's been quite some time since Gunter hauled the lord off. We've sent letters to the royal palace and the House of Nobles, but there's still no proper response."

The lady's face was gaunt and weary.

"If this drags on, something terrible might happen to the lord. We can't let that occur."

The lady and her retainers had tried every means to free him. But the palace stubbornly insisted it was all legal procedure. The nobles offered only vague promises to "look into it."

This couldn't go on. Absolutely not.

In the end, the lady made a difficult choice.

"We must seek the marquis's aid."

"Ah..."

Someone let out a sigh. The Marquis. The Tiger Marquis Gerard Martain. The lady's father. One of the Eight Heroes.

The retainer's sigh had nothing to do with doubt. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠The lady's father was a terrifying man. Perhaps even more so than Gunter. It was like calling in a tiger to hunt a wolf.

But what choice was there? The territory's original master—a mere ferret in comparison—might die.

No one objected. They had all anticipated this.

The castle steward spoke quietly. "I've arranged a carriage."

"A letter alone won't move Father. Not him."

Marquis Gerard would have heard through the House of Nobles by now, yet he remained silent. Likely weighing justifications or calculating gains and losses.

"Lania or I must go in person."

But the lady was under Gunter's watch. Even coming here today was a risk. In the end, she had no choice but to send her young daughter.

The lady handed Lania a letter she had penned herself. Lania tucked it into her bosom with a timid hunch.

"Oliver will help you."

"I've received the lord's grace, after all."

Oliver placed a hand over his heart. The lady offered a light nod of thanks.

The group then discussed a rough plan. Soon, a single carriage would depart Grayrim. Carrying Lania and her precious letter.

"Then, good luck to us all."

At the lady's declaration, the people dispersed one by one. Lania and Oliver followed suit. But this time, Lania slipped out alone first.

She was disguised as a maid from the lord's castle, clutching a basket of flour as she hurried along.

She walked without even looking ahead.

"Hey."

Soldiers stopped her. Lania cautiously lifted her head. These weren't the territory's guards. They were Gunter's men.

"What's in the basket?"

"Fl-flour..."

"In this downpour?"

The soldier gruffly checked inside. Seeing the flour, he stared Lania down piercingly.

"It's all clumped up. Hiding something?"

"N-no, nothing."

"Pretty little thing, aren't you? For a maid."

She had deliberately smeared herself with dirt and dressed shabbily. Yet the soldiers leered and snickered anyway.

Lania, confined to the inner castle, was a face these new grunts didn't recognize. Small mercies.

"Let's search her. She's shaking like she's guilty of something."

Lania trembled in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠terror. If they found the letter, it was over.

As the soldier reached out—

Crack!

Someone smacked the back of his head.

"What kind of bastard— Ah, loyalty!"

It was Knight Zain. Lania quickly bowed her head.

"You lot have faces like demons. No wonder the maid's scared."

"...Heh heh."

"Let her through."

"Yes, sir!"

The soldier waved Lania inside. She barely restrained the urge to bolt.

Zain watched her retreating figure with a distant gaze. His expression was oddly conflicted.

He resumed his patrol and vanished into the rain. And from behind a tree a short distance away...

Oliver lurked in the downpour. Click. He sheathed the dagger he'd drawn.

"Hmmm..."

Alone in the rain, he stared at the patrolling Zain.

Festival. Flowering Period. Fruit Week. Violet Banquet.

All these terms referred to a single natural phenomenon in the Great Forest. A dramatic event visible only in the Great Forest, home to the World Tree—one of the world's countless wonders.

That the World Tree was no ordinary plant was long established. It was a plant and yet possessed the traits of a carnivorous beast. It devoured monsters for sustenance.

The World Tree's roots spanned the entire Great Forest. Some roots occasionally surfaced, forming massive trunks indistinguishable from full trees. And at times, these bore fruit.

This happened when the World Tree's magic power exceeded a critical threshold. The roots produced exquisitely fragrant fruit.

These lured monsters. Imbued with the World Tree's yin magic essence, the fruit amplified the monsters' demonic essence. The beasts grew stronger, gathered in hordes, and fought viciously—growing even more powerful.

The fallen became fodder, rotting and decomposing to nourish the roots. This bait-and-consume cycle was a chillingly efficient hunt.

Such events unfolded across various Great Forest regions. But certain spots always drew the "festival" label on a smaller scale. Single ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠roots bearing vividly crimson fruit.

Places where the most dangerous named monsters converged. Thus birthing realms of chaos and survival of the fittest.

I shared the potion recipe with Nanaruk. Pellelian grumbled that we should've charged for it—goblins don't have money, though. Nanaruk promised to repay someday without me even asking. What a kind soul.

But I attached a condition: no leaking the recipe. Not to other races, nor even within Runga tribe—only to shamans. Nanaruk swore it. She's a reliable friend; she'll handle it.

Besides, the ingredients were hard to source outside the Great Forest anyway.

I taught her for one simple reason. My new epithet: Ouroboros.

Its description included: 'Currently worshipped by a tiny fraction of goblins. As this faith spreads, the epithet's bearer shall gain commensurate dignity.'

Nanaruk and the Runka tribe had no plans to stay in the Palamu Rainforest forever.

"First, we'll unify the Great Forest's goblin tribes. Then, on to the continent."

Who knew Nanaruk was such an ambitious goblin? Her tribe's plans were grand.

As Runka expanded, my epithet would spread too. Someday, I might hear: *Ding! Your faith is spreading widely.*

With potions, they wouldn't lose to other tribes.

Nanaruk and the goblins loaded me with food. Problem was, my subspace was full—no room left. They packed it in a huge bundle, but a snake like me couldn't drag that around.

No matter. I had a new companion.

"Keeeek!"

The centipede mom raced at astonishing speed, her three larvae babies riding atop.

The wind felt great; the freed kids roared in delight.

"Ke ke ke!"

"Kee~ee."

"Ke!"

"Saaak!"

And me last. I sat primly on centipede mom's carapace. The bundle was strapped to her back like a backpack.

Before parting from the goblins, during our final goodbyes, I advised Nanaruk.

'Never trust long-eared folk! Head west and you'll hit Grayrim Territory—a human city. Steer clear. There's a monster there.'

I warned her about Gunter too. Nanaruk nodded attentively.

"See you again."

'Yeah.'

She hugged me tight. As I set off to find Deshunan's lair, centipede mom approached.

She bowed low. I thought it a greeting, but no—Get on my back.

Could she read my thoughts too?

"Kee-eet!"

Her cries suggested not. Anyway, the ride was superb. Multiple legs minimized up-down jolts. And she was so fierce, lesser monsters dared not approach.

We delved deeper into the forest. By midday, she halted. Lunchtime.

Oof, stiff. Sitting still was boring. Plenty of food left, but I decided to hunt. Gotta pay my ride fare, right?

Pellelian was asleep. Enjoying the rare quiet, I slipped into the underbrush.

Parting from the goblins felt oddly lonely so soon, but this was nice too. I was the forest's shadow snake—silence, my ally.

Grrr.

Then, a fool beast shattered the silence.

I dirtied my scales. New ones glittered in light but blended better in dark than before. Black Scale would help, but activating it was tough—needed real rage.

Crunch, crrrunch.

Found the noisemaker. Pure carnivore. Smaller than a leopard, bigger than a housecat.

Not an easy mark. It was chomping through a hefty monkey bigger than itself.

I lunged without hesitation, clamping its nape and coiling tight.

The wildcat was strong; even with me latched on, it leaped high.

"Kyaaang!"

Wildcats wail like that, huh. I squeezed harder. No fangs—for the baby centipedes' sake, just in case.

Claws on a throttled beast? Extra caution. Now skilled, the poor thing couldn't bite or scratch.

Crack. Whew. Tougher than expected.

I dispatched it neatly. Awaiting sweet EXP... but nothing.

Just a trickle of demonic essence. Had my level made it inefficient? Seemed so. Carnivore, lv21, and still peanuts.

Trouble. Deeper into the forest for stronger prey?

Hunt successful regardless. I dragged it back to centipede mom and kids. They drooled at the sight.

'Hold on, kids.'

No dumping raw meat. Time for cooking—my way.

Simple: Drag to open sky. Pull a potion from subspace, set aside. Climb atop. Focus.

Air stilled. Dead wildcat's fur bristled.

Lightning struck me. Kraaaack!

I'd buried my head this time to shield my eyes. Pain still zapped fiercely.

Aaaagh! Hurts! Body burned hot.

Surprisingly, Heavenly Thunder Command didn't fully shock-proof me!

I rolled to the potion, crunched the bamboo tube, gulped it down. Still not enough—rolled in the spilled potion.

Hah... nearly died. Done this routine several times now.

Worth it. Ugh.

-You're insane. Haha.

Pellelian popped from the ring. I rose.

Not just for the skill. The wildcat meat steamed perfectly. Done.

Lightning-roasted wildcat, complete. Waited long, kids?

The three babies' eyes sparkled.

"Ke ke ke!"

"Kee-ee."

"Ke!"

Look at them cheer. Adorable. Applause time!

I thumped the ground with my tail. The babies clacked claws together—their version of clapping. Smart kids.

'Line up for chow.'

Centipede mom watched quietly, like a fond parent eyeing her kids and me. I tore meat and fed them. They gobbled eagerly.

-They follow you well now. Used to fear ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠me a bit. Now they cling to my back—best buds.

Yeah, pure goodwill on my part. Who'd guess...

Eh? I startled, eyeing Pellelian.

-What?

'Says I tamed it.'

Slipped out. Shouldn't have.

-Huh?

Pellelian glared suspiciously.

-So that was your goal. Didn't see it coming.

'No.'

-Planning to enslave centipedes.

'No, really.'

Innocent!