EVEN AS A SLAVE, THE HEAVENLY DEMON'S MIGHT SHALL TAME THE BEAUTIES-Chapter 42: THE WRONGNESS IN THE WILDS

The forest path stretched ahead of them like a ribbon of packed earth winding through towering oaks and ancient pines. Evening shadows had begun to lengthen, filtering the dying sunlight into dappled patterns that danced across the forest floor. The air carried the crisp scent of pine needles and the distant promise of wood smoke from settlements ahead.

Yomi set their pace with the steady rhythm of someone accustomed to long journeys, his newly acquired clothes fitting him with practiced ease. The leather harness distributed weight evenly across his frame, while the hooded cloak provided protection from the evening chill that had begun to creep through the trees. Behind him, Lirien navigated with the confidence of someone who had studied maps and trade routes, though she deferred to his judgment on matters of safety and timing.

Aeloria walked with Kira close beside her, the two having settled into a cautious companionship born of shared uncertainty about their future. The child’s eyes darted constantly between the shadowed spaces between trees and Yomi’s reassuring presence ahead, her instincts still finely tuned to detect potential threats.

It was Yomi who first noticed the wrongness ahead, a subtle shift in the forest’s natural rhythm that spoke of recent violence. His enhanced senses picked up the metallic tang of blood carried on the evening breeze, along with scents that didn’t belong: fear, desperation, and something else that made his skin crawl with familiar recognition.

"Wait," he commanded softly, raising his hand to halt the group.

They emerged into a small clearing where the remnants of a campsite told a story of interrupted peace. Scattered belongings lay strewn across the grass, a torn leather satchel, cooking pots abandoned mid-meal, blankets trampled into the dirt. Dark stains marked the ground in irregular patterns, and deep gouges in the earth showed where a heavy wagon had been dragged away.

Kira pressed closer to Yomi’s side, her small hand finding the edge of his cloak as her nose wrinkled at scents her heightened senses could detect. Whatever had happened here, it had been recent, within the last few hours at most.

"Bandits?" Lirien asked quietly, her hand instinctively moving to rest on the pommel of one of her twin swords.

Yomi crouched beside the trampled earth, his fingers hovering just above the disturbed soil without quite touching it. His Ki extended outward like invisible tendrils, reading the residual energies that clung to the scene. Multiple attackers, coordinated assault, and underneath it all...

"Not bandits," he said, rising to his full height. His expression had hardened into something predatory. "Something else."

The trail was easy enough to follow, broken branches, disturbed undergrowth, and the unmistakable tracks of wheels being forced through terrain never meant for wagons. As they moved deeper into the forest, following the path of destruction, Lirien voiced the question that hung unspoken between them.

"Should we really get involved? We don’t know what we’re walking into."

Yomi’s pace never slowed. "Someone was taken. Recently. Still alive."

Aeloria’s voice carried sharp irritation. "That’s not our problem. We have our own concerns to worry about."

The look Yomi cast over his shoulder was cold enough to freeze blood. "It is now."

There was something in his tone that brooked no argument, not cruelty, but an absolute certainty that sent shivers down Aeloria’s spine. She recognized it as the voice of someone accustomed to having their commands obeyed without question.

As they followed the trail deeper into the forest, the System’s voice echoed in Yomi’s mind with its characteristic mechanical precision.

[Multiple hostile entities detected ahead.]

[Recommendation: Engage. Experience gain potential high.]

[Warning: Dark energy signatures present - cultist classification.]

Yomi’s steps slowed slightly as he processed this information. Cultists. The classification alone was enough to pique his interest, but the energy signatures the System detected felt different from anything he had encountered in this world. Not the clean, abundant Ki that flowed through everything here, nor the refined magic he had witnessed from Aeloria and others.

This felt wrong. Alien. It reminded him of the Murium cultists from his original world, fanatics who had worshipped entities from spaces between realities, drawing power from sources that should never have been touched. Their magic had carried the same nauseating wrongness, the same sense of reality being bent in directions it was never meant to go.

The trail led them to a natural clearing where ancient trees formed a rough circle around a space that had clearly been used for darker purposes. Five figures in black robes stood around a circle carved into the earth, their movements synchronized as they chanted in a language that seemed to twist the air itself.

Red skull insignias marked their clothing, picked out in thread that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it. Within their circle, three families knelt with hands bound behind their backs and gags stuffed into their mouths. Men, women, and children, civilians whose only crime had been traveling the wrong road at the wrong time.

The cultists’ chanting rose to a crescendo as dark energy began to pool in the carved circle, fed by their ritual and the terror of their captives. The very air seemed to thicken with malevolence, and even from their concealed position, Yomi could feel the nauseating pull of power drawn from forbidden sources.

"These souls will feed the Progenitor’s awakening," one cultist intoned, his voice carrying the fervor of absolute belief.

"Lord Vorthak demands more offerings from the trade routes," another responded. "Every merchant we take weakens the kingdom’s commerce, makes them more vulnerable to our master’s influence."

Yomi’s jaw tightened as he recognized the tactical implications. This wasn’t random violence, it was organised warfare designed to destabilise the region’s economy and prepare for something larger. The systematic nature of it spoke to planning and resources far beyond what simple bandits could muster.

He signaled for the others to remain in position while he assessed their enemies more carefully. The cultists moved with the confidence of those accustomed to easy victims, but their stances showed no real combat training. Their power came from their dark rituals, not martial skill.

Lirien’s quiet voice reached him from the shadows. "I’m not hiding anymore."

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