04 – The Northern Farms

The forest welcomed Velmira like a lover.

She'd slipped out of the village as the sun touched the western horizon, moving through back lanes and around the watchman's patrol route with ease that her human self could never have managed.

The Moonveil Cloak's protection faded as daylight died, but her body surged with renewed strength, the oppressive weight of sunlight finally lifted.

The hunger drove her forward.

She'd been denying it for too long, nearly two full days in this world without feeding.

In Yggdrasil, it had been a gameplay mechanic, a debuff that grew worse over time but never felt real. But here it was an emptiness that scraped at her insides, made her hyperfocused on every heartbeat, every pulse of warm blood in living bodies.

At the village well, she'd passed within three feet of a young man drawing water, and the urge to reach out, to charm him with a glance, to sink teeth she barely controlled into his throat—

She'd kept walking. Barely. Her hands had been shaking.

Now, in the privacy of the forest with only animals and darkness for company, she could finally let the predator surface.

The deer didn't see her coming.

It was a young doe, alone, grazing in a small clearing where moonlight filtered through the canopy.

Velmira moved with vampiric silence, her footfalls making no sound on the leaf litter, and her presence masked by some innate ability she didn't understand but trusted completely anyway.

Ten feet. Five feet.

Close enough to smell the animal's musk, to hear the rhythmic grinding of its teeth on grass, to see the pulse beating in its throat.

She pounced.

The doe tried to bolt, but Velmira was faster, impossibly-inhumanly faster. Her hand closed around its neck, bearing it to the ground with strength that would have horrified her human self.

The animal thrashed, its eyes rolling white with terror, and some distant part of her mind recoiled.

‘I'm sorry,’ she thought. ‘I'm sorry, but I need this.’

Her fangs — fully extended now — sank into the deer's throat.

Blood flooded her mouth.

The taste was... wrong.

Not exactly bad, but not what her body craved. It was thin, weak, and lacking something essential that human blood would provide. But it was sustenance, and her vampiric nature seized it desperately, drinking deep while the deer's struggles weakened and finally stilled.

When Velmira pulled away, the doe was dead, its body already cooling in the night air.

She sat back on her heels, breathing hard despite not needing air, trying to process what she'd just done.

Murder. That's what it was, stripped of euphemism. She'd killed a living creature to feed herself.

The fact that it was "just" an animal, that humans did the same thing for meat every day, felt like hollow justification.

They killed for food.

She'd killed for blood, for the pleasure-pain of feeling that vital essence flow into her, warming her from within.

But the hunger had eased. The constant gnawing pressure had backed off to a manageable ache. Her hands had stopped shaking.

When she focused on the sounds of the forest, she could hear them clearly now instead of being drowned out by the pounding of nearby heartbeats.

Control. She had control again.

Velmira stood, looking down at the deer's corpse. In Yggdrasil, it would have despawned after a few minutes, returned to whatever server-space stored inactive game assets.

But here it would rot. Return to the earth in the slow, messy way of real death.

She couldn't just leave it.

Using one of the few utility spells she'd retained from Yggdrasil, [Earth Cradle], she opened a small hole in the forest floor and rolled the deer's body into it.

Another spell filled the hole, covering the evidence of her feeding. It’s like a grave. Well, more importantly, the deer wouldn't care. But it felt important to mark the death somehow, to acknowledge that this animal's life had ended so hers could continue.

"Thank you," she whispered to the covered earth. "I'm sorry."

The forest offered no answer.

***

The farm Velmira had identified sat isolated at the edge of cultivation, a modest house and barn surrounded by pasture land. She'd arrived well before midnight, settling into a perch in a large oak tree that overlooked the sheep pen.

She’s waiting.

The moon climbed higher. Sheep dozed in clusters, occasionally shifting but mostly still. An owl hunted somewhere to the south. The normal sounds of night in a farming land: wind through grass, distant dog barks, and the creak of wood settling.

Velmira's senses extended outward, her vampiric perception picking up details no human could detect. She could hear the farmer and his wife sleeping in the house, their heartbeats slow and steady. Could smell the barn animals; chickens, a cow, a draft horse, etc. She could even taste the mana in the air.

She'd fed now. Her control was solid. Whatever came tonight, she could face it without the distraction of hunger.

The predator arrived just after midnight.

Velmira sensed it before she saw it; through a fluctuation in the mana flow. The sheep sensed it too, their breathing quickening and their heads lifting in alarm but not yet panicking.

Then it emerged from the tree line.

At first glance, it looked like a wolf: four-legged, furred, and moving with predatory grace. But the proportions were wrong. It’s too large for a wolf, nearly the size of a small horse. Its fur was matted and dark, but in the moonlight, Velmira could see patches where the skin showed through. And its eyes glowed with a sickly yellow-green luminescence that had nothing to do with normal animal reflection.

A corrupted beast. Demon-touched, perhaps, or exposed to some kind of dark magic that had twisted it from what it once was.

The creature paused at the edge of the pen, and Velmira saw its nostrils flare. Scenting. Not just the sheep, but something else. Its head turned slowly, those luminescent eyes sweeping the area.

Looking for threats.

Looking for her.

Velmira held absolutely still, letting her vampiric nature mask her presence. In Yggdrasil, she'd had stealth skills, a passive abilities that made her harder to detect. Here though, those mechanics had translated into something more organic, an ability to become part of the darkness, to seem like just another shadow among many.

The beast turned back to the sheep.

One of them bleated in terror, and that broke the spell. The entire flock panicked, surging away from the predator, but the pen contained them, gave them nowhere to run.

The beast leaped the fence with ease.

Velmira moved.

She dropped from the tree, falling fifteen feet to land in a crouch that should have shattered her legs but instead it felt natural and easy.

The beast's head whipped around at the sound, and for a moment, predator and predator stared at each other across the panicked sheep.

Then it charged.

Fast. Terrifyingly fast for something its size.

But to Velmira's vampiric perception, it might as well have been moving in slow motion. She sidestepped casually, and the beast's jaws snapped shut on empty air a full two feet from where she stood.

Her hand shot out with a gesture, and darkness coalesced into form.

[Shadow Blade].

The weapon materialized instantly: a sword of solidified shadow, surrounded with necrotic energy.

The beast pivoted for another charge, claws tearing furrows in the earth.

Velmira met it head-on.

Her blade carved through the creature's shoulder like it was paper, opening the corrupted flesh to bone. The beast howled — part wolf, part something else — but its momentum carried it past her.

She spun, almost lazy in her grace, and her shadow blade took the creature across its hindquarters.

It collapsed, its legs giving out but regeneration was already working to close the wounds.

Not fast enough.

Velmira was on it before it could rise, one hand pressing its head to the ground with casual strength. The beast struggled, but her vampiric power was absolute. She'd been level 80 in Yggdrasil, a True Vampire Lord. This corrupted thing, whatever dark magic animated it, was no match for that kind of power.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, and meant it.

Then she drove the shadow blade through its skull.

The creature went still immediately.

And then… the farmhouse door burst open.

The farmer appeared holding a hunting bow, his wife standing behind him with a lantern.

They'd seen everything. The impossible speed, the effortless strength, the casual execution of a monster that had terrified them for weeks.

Velmira straightened, dismissing the shadow blade with a thought. The weapon dissolved back into darkness, leaving no trace it had ever existed.

The entire fight had lasted perhaps fifteen seconds.

"Stay inside," Velmira said calmly.

"It's over."

She looked down at the beast's corpse. Already it was beginning to dissolve. Corruption burning away now that the animating force was gone.

In another minute, there would be nothing left but ash and a blackened heart.

She'd killed it without taking a single hit. No injuries damaging her body.

That was the problem.

A normal mage would have struggled. A normal warrior would have been wounded, bloodied, perhaps forced to fight desperately. Even a skilled adventurer would have shown some sign of difficulty.

Velmira had killed it like she was swatting a fly.

The farmer's hands were shaking as he lowered his bow.

"What are you?" he whispered.

Velmira wanted to say she was still human.

But that would be a lie.

She looked at her hands; it’s pale. The display of power had been absolute and overwhelming, the kind of casual dominance that only came from being so far above your opponent that they never stood a chance.

She was a predator.

An apex predator.

And she'd just shown them exactly what that meant.

"I—" Words failed her. What could she say? What explanation would they accept?

"Mama?"

A small voice from the farmhouse doorway. A child, perhaps five years old, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

"What's happening?"

The wife moved immediately, scooping up the child and backing toward the house.

"Get inside. Now."

"I saved you," Velmira said, hating how hollow it sounded.

"The beast would have killed—"

"By becoming a beast yourself," the farmer interrupted. His bow didn't waver. "I saw what you did. I saw your arm heal. I saw your eyes. You're one of them. Demon. Monster."

"I'm not—" But she couldn't finish the sentence.

I'm not a monster?

She'd just torn out a creature's heart with her bare hand. Had fangs and claws and inhuman strength.

What was she, if not a monster?

"I only want to help though. The village, the farms, I'm trying to protect—"

"We don't need protection from demons," the farmer said.

"Himmel The Hero taught us enough that we need protection from things like you."

Velmira heard movement in the distance. Voices of footsteps. The commotion had drawn attention. Militia, probably. Marta. Gareth. They were coming, and she was standing here covered in blood with witnesses who'd seen exactly what she was capable of.

She could run. She should run. Disappear into the forest before they arrived, before the situation escalated further.

But running would confirm their fears. It would mark her as guilty of something, even if she didn't know what.

"I'll wait," Velmira said, raising her hands slowly, showing they were empty despite the blood. "The militia is coming. I'll explain to them—"

"Don't move." The farmer's voice was hard.

"My family is going inside. You stay right there, monster, or I swear I'll put this arrow through your eye."

Would it kill her? Probably not. But it would hurt, and the aggression would give her legal justification to defend herself, and then someone would actually die, and everything would spiral beyond recovery.

So Velmira stood still.

The farmer's wife herded their son inside, then reappeared with a hunting spear, standing beside her husband. Both kept their weapons trained on Velmira while they waited for help to arrive.

And Velmira, alone in the darkness with the ashes of the creature she'd killed, realized that saving these people had accomplished nothing.

They feared her more than the beast.

Perhaps they were right though.

***

Marta arrived first, her bow drawn with two militia members close behind. Gareth came running moments later with sword in his hand, taking in the scene with a soldier's quick assessment: destroyed pen, panicked sheep, farmer and wife armed and afraid, and Velmira standing covered in blood.

"What happened?" Gareth demanded.

"The beast came," the farmer said quickly.

"She — that thing — killed it. But not like any mage would. She's not human, Captain. Look at her!"

All weapons turned toward Velmira.

She kept her hands raised, non-threatening, even though part of her screamed to run, to fight, to do anything but stand here and accept this judgment.

"Is this true?" Marta's voice was carefully controlled.

"You killed the beast."

"Yes."

"How?"

"Magic. Vampiric strength, you know. Now there's no need to hide anything, huh."

Velmira met Marta's eyes.

"Does it matter? The beast is dead. Your farms are safe."

"Safe?" The farmer's wife laughed, high and hysterical. "Safe with her wandering around? She's worse than the beast! At least we knew that was a monster!"

"I'm not going to hurt anyone," Velmira said, forcing calm into her voice.

"I came here to help. I've helped. That's all."

"You lied," Gareth said. "You said you were a mage. You said you studied in eastern academies. You didn't mention being... what? A vampire? A demon?"

"Would you have accepted my help if I had?"

The silence was answer enough.

Marta lowered her bow slightly.

"Show us. The beast. Prove it's dead."

Velmira gestured toward the pile of ash near the pen.

"There. That's what remains when the corruption burns away. The heart—" She looked around and found where she'd dropped it. The organ had shriveled to a blackened lump, still radiating faint traces of dark magic. "—there."

Gareth approached cautiously, examining the ash, the heart, the torn earth where the fight had occurred.

His expression was unreadable.

"This is demon magic," he said finally. "Corruption. The beast was touched by darkness, changed by it." He looked at Velmira. "And you killed it. Absorbed whatever power it held, by the looks of you."

That wasn't accurate — she hadn't absorbed anything — but Velmira didn't correct him. Let them think what they wanted. It hardly mattered now.

"Gareth," Marta said quietly. "What do we do?"

The captain was silent for a long moment, weighing options.

Velmira could see the calculation in his eyes: she was dangerous, clearly inhuman, but she'd also just eliminated a threat that had plagued them for weeks.

Did the good outweigh the risk?

"You'll leave," Gareth said finally. "Tonight. Now. Before the village wakes and word spreads about what you are."

"Gareth—" one of the militia members protested.

"She saved them," Gareth continued, his voice hardening.

"The beast would have killed this family, maybe others. She put herself at risk to stop it. That counts for something." He turned to Velmira. "But you can't stay. You're right. We wouldn't have accepted your help if we'd known. And now that we do know, most people will call for your execution. I can't protect you from that."

"So you're letting her go?" The farmer was incredulous.

"Just like that? What if she comes back? What if she decides human blood is easier and tastier than animal?"

Velmira flinched at the accuracy of that last statement.

"I will not harm humans. That's a line I won't cross."

"You say that now. But you're immortal, aren't you? What happens in ten years? A hundred? When everyone you've known is dead, and you're still here?"

Marta shook her head.

"We're not monsters for fearing you. We're just being realistic."

She wasn't wrong.

Velmira couldn't promise she'd maintain her humanity forever. She'd already compromised so much in just two days, feeding on animals, killing with her bare hands, and accepting the predator inside her.

How much more would she surrender over decades? Centuries?

"I understand," Velmira said quietly.

"I'll leave. But I need one thing first."

Gareth's hand moved to his sword.

"What?"

"Information. About this world. About elves, demons, mages. About... others like me." She gestured at the ash. "I'm trying to understand where I fit, what I am. If you know anything about vampires, about immortal beings, I need to know."

Marta and Gareth exchanged looks.

"There's a mage academy," Gareth said finally. "Three days travel south. Academy of Magic. If anywhere has records of your kind, it would be there." He paused.

"But be warned, mages study immortals to understand them. To fight them, if necessary. You walk in there and you might not walk out."

"I'll take that risk." Velmira lowered her hands slowly. "Thank you. For not killing me."

"Don't thank me yet," Gareth said. "You have until dawn to be gone. If you're still in our territory when the sun rises, we hunt you down. Understood?"

Velmira nodded.

She turned to leave, then paused.

"The beast. It was corrupted, yes, but it was also dying. The dark magic was consuming it from within. It would have burned out in another week or two, probably killed itself."

She met the farmer's eyes.

"You would have been safe eventually, with or without me. For what it's worth."

Then she walked away, into the darkness, leaving behind the ashes of the monster and the people who now feared her more than they'd feared the monster.

***

Velmira retrieved her few possessions from the inn before dawn, moving silently through the building while everyone slept. She left silver coins on the counter — more than enough to cover her stay — and departed Herzfeld as the first hints of light touched the eastern sky.

The Moonveil Cloak would protect her for the day's travel.

She had a destination now: Academy of Magic. A place where she might find answers, might learn what had happened to bring her to this world, and might discover if other players had been transported as well.

But as she walked the road south, alone in the pre-dawn darkness, Velmira couldn't shake the memory of the farmer's family. The fear in their eyes. The certainty that she was a monster, regardless of her intentions.

You have kind eyes, Elara had said.

But Elara was a child who didn't understand what those eyes could do. What they signified. What hunger lay behind them.

The adults knew better.

And perhaps, Velmira thought as the sun began its climb and the familiar drain started again, perhaps the adults were right.

She was a monster. However much humanity she retained, however carefully she controlled herself, the fundamental truth remained: she survived by drinking blood, healed from impossible wounds, and she would outlive generations of normal people here.

Monster. Vampire. Undead thing wearing a human soul like an ill-fitting coat.

The question wasn't whether she was a monster.

The question was whether she could be a monster who didn't hurt the innocent.

Well, it is three days to Academy and three days to think about that question.

Velmira pulled her hood up against the rising sun and walked on.

End of Chapter 4