Chapter 6. Sleeping the Night

The sun starting to sank low over the horizon, casting the village of Tharrosk in deepening shades of crimson and gold. The edge of the Gloamspire Thicket loomed ominously to the east, its twisted trees like a wall of shadow ready to swallow the light. As the day bled into night, a heavy unease settled over the villagers. Torches are lit along the wooden gate that protected the houses, their flickering light barely enough to push back the darkness creeping from the cursed forest.

Emilia stood near the gates with two of the village guards, clutching a small leather pouch close to her chest. Her hands trembled slightly, though she tried to mask her nervousness.

Inside the pouch sloshed a thick, inky-black liquid she distilled from the Deathveil Cap mushrooms she and Hikarimetsu had encountered in the Forest of Death. The mushrooms were deadly to most living creatures, she’d seen them dissolve the hide of a beast when merely touched. Carefully, she opened the pouch and revealed its contents to the wary guards.

“This,” she explained, her voice steady despite her racing heart, “will kill whatever creature has been haunting this village. It's a highly effective one. Smear it on the tips of your arrows and spearheads. If those… things come again tonight, you’ll have a better chance at bringing them down.”

The guards, broad-shouldered men dressed in rough tunics and carrying bronze-tipped weapons, exchanged uneasy glances. One of them swallowed hard. “Is it… safe to touch?”

Emilia shook her head quickly. “No. Even a drop on your skin could be dangerous. Never touch it with your bare hand; just put the tip of your arrows or spears into this and let it dry, and do not let it near food or water.”

The older of the two nodded gravely. “The Horned Maulbeasts grow bolder with each moonrise. If this works, Pathbreaker, you may have saved us all.” He hesitated, then bowed deeply. “Forgive me—Pathbreaker. I will see to it personally.”

As they carried the pouch away with utmost care, Emilia exhaled, tension loosening from her shoulders. She isn’t a warrior like these people, but at least she could give them something, a small measure of protection for the night to come. Because that poison has been saving her many times inside the forest while she tried to find a way out.

The village elder approached, leaning heavily on his crooked staff. The torchlight made the runes carved into the wood glow faintly, like smoldering embers. His wise old eyes softened as he regarded her. “Pathbreaker,” he said warmly, “you have worked tirelessly since your arrival. You must rest now. Come, your shelter is ready.”

Emilia followed him through the winding dirt paths between round, thatched huts. Smoke curled lazily from their roofs, carrying the scent of burning wood and stew. Villagers bowed or whispered prayers as she passed, reverence mingled with awe. It's a bit overwhelming for her. Back home, she was just a Michelin chef in Sapporo, unnoticed except for her cooking. Now she's some kind of prophesied savior.

The elder led her to a small hut near the heart of the village. Its clay walls were rough but sturdy, the thatched roof slanting low to keep out rain. Inside, the space was humble but warm, lit by a single oil lamp. The air smelled faintly of herbs, smoke, and earth.

Against one wall sat a small clay oven, blackened from years of use. A large clay jar with swirling painted patterns rested beside it, likely filled with water or grain. A short wooden table and a few mismatched stools occupied the center of the room, their surfaces worn smooth by generations of use.

On a simple shelf above the oven, crude clay figurines and a few small vessels sat in a neat line, perhaps offerings to local spirits. A thick pile of animal furs lay near the back, serving as a bed. It isn’t soft, but after days of sleeping on forest ground, it looked like heaven to Emilia’s aching body.

“This hut is yours for as long as you stay among us,” the elder said. His voice carried both gratitude and reverence. “Rest well, Pathbreaker. The night is long, and the shadows grow restless near the Thicket.”

Emilia bowed slightly, unsure if she was doing it right. “Thank you… I really appreciate this.”

When the elder departed, Emilia sat on the edge of the fur bedding and finally let herself breathe. She turned to the knife resting at her side. “Well, Hikarimetsu, at least we’ve got a roof over our heads tonight.”

The blade shimmered, light bending around it before it transformed into the tall, imposing figure of Hikarimetsu in his human form. Her long, silver hair spilled over her shoulders, her warrior’s robes flowing like liquid shadow. Her golden eyes glimmered faintly in the dim light.

“You are vulnerable here, Master,” she said smoothly, folding her arms. “I will remain by your side through the night. Should anything dare approach this hut, they will taste my steel.”

Emilia blinked, heat creeping into her cheeks. “Uh, you’re… going to sleep here? With me?”

Hikarimetsu raised a brow. “Of course. You require protection and warmth. This world is cruel to the unprepared.”

“I—I guess that makes sense,” she muttered, flustered. Hikarimetsu lay down beside her with a grace, her presence both comforting and intimidating. She smells like incense, a familiar fragrance from back home in Japan.

She automatically snuggles closer to Hikarimetsu, enjoying the warmth she gives her and the familiar scent of earth. For the first time since she had been dragged into this strange, terrifying world, Emilia felt safe. Exhaustion hit her all at once, like a wave crashing over her. Her eyelids drooped, and despite the hardness of the bedding, the steady warmth at her back lulled her into deep, dreamless sleep.

Night fell heavy and long. Outside, the village is silent save for the occasional call of a night bird or the nervous bleating of livestock. Guards patrolled the wooden gate, their torches casting long shadows. Each man carried weapons carefully coated in the black liquid that was given to them, hands wrapped in thick cloth to keep themselves safe.

From the darkness of the Gloamspire Thicket, low, guttural growls began to echo. The guards froze, knuckles whitening around their weapons. Shapes moved within the treeline—hulking, unnatural forms with curling horns and massive, clawed limbs. The Horned Maulbeasts had come.

One beast charged the gate, its bellow shaking the very earth. The guards loosed their arrows in unison, the poisoned tips striking true. The creature roared in agony, stumbling back as the Deathveil toxin spread rapidly through its body. It thrashed violently, then collapsed with a final, rattling hiss.

Two more beasts lunged forward, but they, too, were brought down by the guards’ swift strikes. The poison worked even faster than they had hoped. Within moments, the night is still again, save for the ragged breathing of the defenders.

“By the spirits,” one guard whispered, staring at the fallen monsters in disbelief. “It worked. The Pathbreaker’s gift truly worked.”

The men raised their torches high, casting light on the grotesque corpses of the Maulbeasts. Their bodies were a horrifying blend of wolf, boar, and nightmare, their twisted horns slick with black blood. Even in death, they radiated a terrible aura.

The guards stood tall, their fear replaced with newfound hope. “The Pathbreaker has saved us,” another murmured. “Perhaps the prophecy is true after all.”

Morning light spilled over the village, golden and soft. Emilia stirred as the warmth of the sun touched her face. For a moment, she forgot where she was, expecting to hear the hum of traffic outside her apartment window in Sapporo. Instead, she opened her eyes to see a rough clay wall and the sleeping form of Hikarimetsu beside her.

Stretching, she sat up and rubbed her eyes. “I can’t believe I actually slept through the night…” she mumbled, her voice hoarse.

Her body still ached from days of traveling through the cursed forest, but the exhaustion that had weighed her down like a mountain had finally lifted. For the first time since arriving in this strange world, Emilia felt human again.

Beside her, Hikarimetsu stirred, her golden eyes fluttering open. The sword spirit stretched languidly, and Emilia’s breath caught. The spirit’s elegant midnight-blue kimono had slipped halfway open during the night, revealing toned skin and a huge, swirling dragon tattoo that ran across the left side of her body. The marks glimmered faintly, like molten gold beneath her skin, tracing patterns that looked both beautiful and dangerous.

Emilia’s face went bright red. “C-Cover your body, Hikari!” she sputtered, grabbing a fur blanket and tossing it toward her.

Hikarimetsu caught it effortlessly but only smirked, her lips curling into something mischievous. “Oh? Are you perhaps interested in my body, Master?” she purred, tilting her head. “I would not mind indulging such curiosity. After all, it is only natural to admire perfection.”

Emilia groaned, covering her face with both hands. “Shut up. Just—shut up, please,” she muttered, desperate to hide her burning cheeks. “I have enough problems without you being… like that.”

Still smirking, Hikarimetsu casually draped the blanket over herself but made no effort to actually fix her kimono. Emilia tried to ignore her as she crossed the small hut, grabbing a clay jug from the shelf. She poured some water into a simple cup and took a long gulp.

The liquid was chilled overnight, cool and refreshing against her dry throat. She let out a satisfied sigh. “Ahh, that hits the spot, and it doesn’t taste like wet dirt.” But the peace didn’t last.

A loud commotion erupted outside: shouts, hurried footsteps, and the clang of weapons. The sound is sharp and urgent, cutting through the quiet morning like a knife. Emilia froze mid-sip, her heart hammering.

“What now?” she muttered, already on edge.

Setting the cup down with trembling hands, she slipped on her shoes and rushed to the door. Behind her, Hikarimetsu rose gracefully, her form shimmering before collapsing into a burst of light. In the blink of an eye, she had transformed back into the kitchen knife form, resting securely in Emilia’s knife bag.

When Emilia pushed open the wooden door and stepped into the cool morning air, the sight before her made her blood run cold. Just beyond the village gates, sprawled in the dewy grass, lay three massive corpses.

Their twisted, hulking forms are exactly like the monster who's chasing her before Hikarimetsu manifested in her human's form, part boar, part wolf, part nightmare. Their thick hides were dark and matted, their curling horns slick with black blood.

Even in death, their sharp claws and bared fangs exuded a terrifying menace. A foul stench rolled off them, the kind of smell that clung to the back of her throat and made her gag. The Horned Maulbeasts. The very monsters the villagers had feared would strike under cover of darkness.

Emilia’s legs locked in place. Her mind went blank; her breath caught in her chest. “No way…” she whispered, her voice trembling.

Around the corpses, a group of guards stood wide-eyed, their weapons glinting in the morning light. Some looked stunned, others awestruck, as if they couldn’t quite believe they had survived the night. The elder pushed through the crowd, leaning on his crooked staff, his weathered face etched with both relief and wonder. “The spirits have truly sent you to us, Pathbreaker. You have broken the path of shadow this night.”

As the crowd knelt before her, Emilia’s stomach twisted. She still can't picture herself as a savior. She's just a chef with a really bad case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. And yet, seeing the hope on their faces, she couldn’t bring herself to deny them.