Atiste received the System quest and immediately teleported to the gates of Aoyi City, maintaining his human form but hiding his power.
However, when he went to Rena’s residence, he found that the two of them were no longer there.
He stood at the city gate for a while, sensing the mark on Su’er.
The light spot was moving, heading north, at a moderate pace.
He didn’t rush to chase; instead, he first entered the city and looked around.
The atmosphere in the city was off.
There were fewer pedestrians than usual, but far more patrolling guards.
A few officers in standard armor stood at the entrance of the Adventurer’s Guild, with the guild’s insignia on their armor.
Atiste walked past them without anyone giving him a second glance.
His concealment was perfect.
He pushed open the guild’s door; inside was even quieter than outside.
Behind the counter, the receptionist was a young woman with a grim expression.
She forced a smile when she saw him enter.
“I’m looking for two people,” Atiste said.
“A female swordsman with silver hair, accompanied by a girl with white fox ears.”
The receptionist’s expression changed.
“You mean Miss Rena, who calls herself the Hero?”
“Probably.”
“They accepted a quest and left the city early this morning,” the receptionist said in a low voice.
“They headed north, to a village called Gernica Village.”
Atiste noticed that when she said “Gernica Village,” two adventurers drinking in the corner both looked up at him briefly before quickly looking down again.
“What’s wrong with that village?”
The receptionist hesitated, then pulled out a quest sheet from under the counter and handed it to him.
Only a few lines were written on the paper: “Gernica Village has suffered a disaster. Urgent rescue needed. Reward: eight thousand gold coins.”
There was no client name, no signature.
“This quest,” Atiste put the paper back, “who posted it?”
“The person who posted it was a mysterious figure, always wearing a black robe,” the receptionist’s voice dropped even lower.
“He came several times, posting the same quest… this morning as well.”
Atiste nodded and said, “I see. Thank you.”
He turned and walked out.
When he reached the door, he heard the receptionist weakly add, “Sir, about that village… three groups have gone before, and none returned. Even though you’ve hidden your strength, I… I wouldn’t advise you to go rashly.”
He glanced back at her, said nothing, and pushed the door open to leave.
***
Rena accepted the quest for Gernica Village purely for the money.
Eight thousand gold coins were enough for her to live in Aoyi City for over half a year, and she could also buy Su’er a few new clothes as thanks for saving her life.
That girl Su’er was always running around in that old dress, its hem frayed, but she refused to change.
“Rena,” Su’er walked beside her, tail wagging anxiously.
“That village… is so far.”
“Mm.”
“Can we take a carriage?”
“No money.”
“Oh.”
Su’er pouted, then after a while asked again, “What’s that village like?”
“You’ll know when we get there.”
“But I’m so scared…”
Su’er’s voice grew quieter.
“The person who posted that quest looked kind of dangerous… what if it’s a trap?”
Rena stopped and looked at her.
Su’er’s eyes were full of worry, her ears drooping.
She did look scared, but her legs kept moving forward without any sign of stopping.
“You can go back to the city and wait for me.”
Su’er shook her head frantically.
“No! I want to stay with you!”
“Then don’t make such a terrified face.”
“I’m not scared at all!”
Su’er rubbed her face and said seriously, “I’m just a little worried.”
Rena said nothing and continued walking.
When they arrived at Gernica Village, it was exactly noon.
The sun was bright and the weather was fine along the way, but that didn’t mean anything good was about to happen.
Gernica Village no longer existed.
It had been reduced to a pile of debris—crushed stone, splintered wood, shattered tiles, torn cloth.
Houses had been blown apart, streets torn up, trees uprooted and lying across the road.
Everywhere were craters, fires, and smoke.
The air was thick with the smell of burning and blood, so strong it made you want to vomit.
An old woman knelt before the ruins, her hands raised to the sky, her mouth wide open, but no sound could be heard.
Not because she wasn’t screaming, but because the surrounding noise was too loud.
People were shouting, crying, yelling things that couldn’t be made out.
A horse ran down a narrow alley, its body on fire; after a few steps, it collapsed.
There were many soldiers’ bodies; judging by the style of their armor, they clearly belonged to two different factions.
Rena and Su’er stepped into this village where terrible things were happening…
Su’er stayed hidden behind Rena, ears drooping, tail tucked in.
A soldier stood beside the fallen horse, sword raised, his hand frozen; around him lay several enemies, and he himself had no signs of life.
Black smoke rose from every corner of the village, merging together, completely covering the sky.
But the ground was bright with firelight everywhere, casting long shadows.
Su’er stood there, clutching Rena’s sleeve tightly, completely frozen.
Her lips moved, but no words came.
Her legs trembled, but she couldn’t take a step.
She could only stand there, watching everything before her—the shattered remains of people, horses, and houses all jumbled together, impossible to tell where the humans ended and the beasts or walls began.
Rena took a few steps forward and stepped on something soft.
Looking down, it was a severed hand still gripping a short blade.
Su’er’s tail fluffed up in fright, and she hugged Rena tightly.
A young woman lay by the well, an arrow in her back, her arm reaching toward the well’s opening.
Rena crouched down, pulled out the arrow, placed it on the well’s rim, and closed the woman’s eyes.
An old man sat at his doorstep, holding a dead chicken, his head drooping, a hole in the back of his skull.
Rena took off her coat and draped it over him.
A child crouched in a corner, holding a rag doll.
Half of the doll’s face had been burned off, revealing the cotton stuffing inside.
The child wasn’t crying, just crouching there, patting the doll’s back over and over.
Rena walked over, crouched down, and asked with concern, “Are you hurt?”
The child shook their head.
“Where are your mom and dad?”
The child didn’t answer, just pointed at the house behind them.
The house had collapsed halfway, the other half leaning crookedly.
Rena glanced inside, said nothing.
She stood up, picked up the child, and carried them toward the village exit.
“Rena…”
Su’er called from behind.
“What are you going to do?”
“Take her out.”
“But—those people are looting!”
Su’er pointed into the village.
Rena looked back.
Several armored soldiers were carrying things out of a house that hadn’t completely collapsed.
Crates, cabinets, jars—they took everything.
One soldier carried an iron pot, another hefted a sack of grain, and a third held a handful of silverware stained with blood.
Rena handed the child to Su’er.
“Take her to the village entrance and wait.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll go check it out.”
“Rena!”
Rena was already gone.
Su’er held the child, standing at the village entrance, watching Rena’s figure disappear into the smoke.
She wanted to follow, but her legs wouldn’t obey.
She could only stand there, holding a strange child, trembling all over.
Inside the village, Rena stopped the soldiers.
“Drop the stuff.”
The soldiers halted and looked at her.
The leader saw the Holy Sword at her waist and his expression changed.
“The Hero?”
“Drop the stuff.”
The soldiers exchanged glances and laughed.
“Lady Hero,” the leader said, “we’re just carrying out orders—”
“Drop the stuff.”
Rena’s eyes began to show killing intent.
The soldier who wasn’t laughing dropped the iron pot and walked away.
The other two hesitated, then followed.
The leader wanted to say something more, but seeing Rena’s hand on her sword hilt, he swallowed his words, shouldered the grain sack, and ran off.
Rena continued deeper into the village.
The further she went, the more tragic the scene became.
A man lay face down in the middle of the road, a deep gash across his back, covered in blood.
He wasn’t dead yet; his fingers clawed at the ground, pulling himself forward inch by inch.
Rena crouched down, turned him over, and pulled out the potion Atiste had given her—half had been drunk last time, half remained.
She poured the remaining potion onto his wound.
The man gasped and looked at her.
“Who did this?”
The man pointed north.
“The army… Killheart City’s army… they killed the militia… here… looting…”
Rena stood up and headed north.
She hadn’t gone far when she heard sounds of fighting ahead.
The clashing of metal, very intense.
She ran over and saw an armored officer standing in the middle of the ruins, holding a greatsword.
Before him knelt a militiaman, his hands tied behind his back, covered in blood, head bowed, motionless.
The officer raised his sword to strike.
“Stop!”
The officer’s hand froze mid-air; he turned to look at her.
It was a face she would never forget.
Not because his features were striking, but because of his eyes.
She felt she had seen that look before—on the battlefield, on the faces of soldiers who had killed until their eyes were bloodshot.
It was a look that no longer belonged to a “human.”
What was inside wasn’t anger or hatred, but something colder, harder, emptier.
“Who are you?”
the officer asked.
Rena didn’t answer.
She drew the Holy Sword.
The patterns on the blade glowed, a pale golden light, strikingly clear amidst the smoke and fire.
The officer glanced at her sword and suddenly laughed.
“The Holy Sword ‘Paladin’,” he said, “I never expected to meet the Lady Hero.”
He moved his sword away from the militiaman’s head and turned toward Rena.
“Do you know who you’re going up against?”
“No,” Rena said.
“And I don’t want to know.”
“Then do you know,” the officer took a step forward, the greatsword dragging a furrow in the ground, “what the people of this village did?”
“No.”
“They hid rebels. Sheltering enemies, punishable by death.”
Rena looked at him without speaking.
Seeing this, the officer’s eyes grew colder.
“War is like this. I must kill all enemies,” he said.
“War? I don’t understand, but I do know one thing,”
Rena raised her sword, “you are committing an inhumane massacre.”
The officer looked at her, and something suddenly appeared in his eyes.
Not anger, not guilt, but something close to admiration.
“The legendary Hero,” he said, “you are brave, but bravery alone can’t save anyone.”
He raised his greatsword; the blood on the blade glistened in the firelight.
“Let me see,” he said, “if your sword is as sharp as your tongue.”
Rena gripped the Holy Sword, feeling the warmth rising within her.
Her power was unstable now.
After taking the potion Atiste gave her, her injuries had healed very quickly, but her strength fluctuated erratically…
However, to stop this officer, she had no choice but to fight.
The officer charged forward, the greatsword whistling down as he swung.
Rena sidestepped to dodge, holding the Holy Sword horizontally in front of her.
The sound of metal clashing exploded among the ruins.
In the distance, Atiste stood on a slope outside the village, watching everything unfold.