The silence of the Death Forest was shattered—not by screams of terror, but by the sound of steady footsteps and the clinking of weapons prepared with absolute confidence. Hundreds of monstrous eyes—from ferocious Red Boars and three-meter-tall Black Grizzlies to dozens of grey-skinned Ogres—began to close in, tightening the circle of encirclement.
Ronan drew his sword, the muscles in his arms tensing. As a party leader used to facing danger, his instincts screamed at him to form a defensive perimeter immediately. "Everyone! Turtle formation! Protect the children and the villagers!" he commanded his comrades.
However, instead of huddling toward Ronan, the residents of Noive Village stepped forward, separating themselves from the adventurer group. A large, muscular man wielding a long spear turned toward Ronan with a wide grin.
"Stay right there, Mister Adventurer! Just keep a good eye on those kids," he said casually, as if talking about the weather. "Leave these monsters to us. It's been a long time since we've had a proper warm-up!"
Ronan was stunned. "What? Are you crazy? There are Black Grizzlies and Ogres out there! Those aren't ordinary monsters!"
Before Ronan could even finish his warning, Keywiln Almon—the village head and Keyzier's grandfather—gave a brief signal with a wave of his hand. "Begin the harvest."
Instantly, the reality before the eyes of Ronan's group seemed to distort. The villagers, who moments ago looked like ordinary citizens, exploded with speed that defied human logic.
"Haste... Triple Boost!" they muttered almost in unison.
Zhap! Zhap! Zhap!
The ground beneath their feet cracked as they lunged. Ronan, an experienced adventurer, could only see flashes of blue light and blurred shadows darting between the trees. The close-combat villagers—swordsmen, spearmen, and hand-to-hand brawlers—plunged directly into the heart of the monster horde.
On the other side, the villagers acting as mages remained where they stood. Without the need for long incantations or complex spellbooks, they simply raised their hands.
"Chain Lightning!"
"Fire Storm!"
"Ice Shard Rain!"
Waves of high-level magic swept through the monster ranks. Explosion after explosion rocked the Death Forest. A Black Grizzly tried to crush a brown-haired village youth, but with a fluid motion, the boy spun in the air and delivered a kick coated in pure mana to the monster's neck.
CRACK!
The monster's massive neck snapped instantly, and its giant carcass was sent flying, crashing into three Ogres behind it.
"W-what kind of villagers are these?" Oliver, the scout who usually took pride in his speed, stood frozen. His eyes struggled to track Keywiln's movements as the old man moved through the crowd of Ogres. "Their individual abilities are like S-Rank adventurers! I can barely see them move! That speed... that's no ordinary Speed magic!"
Rin, the healer, could only swallow hard. She watched a middle-aged woman from the village hold a bow and fire five arrows simultaneously. Every single arrow exploded directly into the heads of six-legged forest wolves with 100% accuracy. "They aren't farmers... they are monsters in human form," Rin whispered, trembling in shock yet filled with awe.
Keyzier, who had been clinging to his grandfather before the battle began, now stood behind the line of village mages. He stared with wide, sea-blue eyes. He saw his father, Keyown—who usually only spent his days tilling the fields—holding a short sword and moving like a ghost among the monsters. Every swing of his blade took down a monster's head.
The arrogance of the Death Forest seemed to crumble that night. The hundreds of monsters that had been so threatening were now nothing more than helpless piles of meat before the wrath of the Noive citizens. In less than ten minutes, an area of one hectare had been cleared of living monsters. The damp earth was now stained with blood of various colors.
Ronan was truly speechless. His sword was still unsheathed, but he hadn't even had the chance to swing it once. A mix of admiration, wonder, and fear swirled in his head. As a licensed adventurer, he knew all too well that what he had just witnessed surpassed the highest military standards of the Altoria Kingdom.
"How is it possible for a small village on the outskirts to possess such destructive power?" Ronan muttered. He watched the villagers as they began to clean their weapons casually, as if they had just finished the chore of mowing grass.
However, the surprises for Ronan's group were far from over. After the battle ended, the villagers approached the giant carcasses scattered about.
"It would be a waste to leave these behind. This Red Boar hide is good for making new leather armor, and the meat is delicious when roasted or boiled," one villager remarked.
Suddenly, that villager pulled a small bag from his waist. He opened the mouth of the bag, and with a single wave of his hand, the body of the Red Boar—weighing nearly half a ton—was sucked into the bag without changing its size.
"A Magic Bag?!" Oliver shouted, unable to contain himself. "That's a relic! They are incredibly expensive and rare! How can... a mere villager own one?!"
Oliver looked around. Sure enough, every single villager pulled out a similar bag and began storing the monster corpses with terrifying efficiency. For adventurers, owning one Magic Bag was a lifelong dream, yet here, they seemed to be standard-issue equipment.
The shock reached its peak when Grandpa Keywiln approached the largest Black Grizzly carcass. He didn't pull out a magic bag. He simply moved his fingers through the air, creating a spatial distortion in the shape of a transparent box.
"Inventory!" Keywiln said flatly.
In an instant, the giant monster vanished into the vacuum created by space-time magic.
Ronan fell to his knees, his eyes losing focus from the sheer weight of the shock. "Inventory magic... an ancient-tier magic that can only be used by Royal Archmages or legendary heroes... and this old man uses it just to transport a Black Grizzly carcass?"
Keyzier looked at his grandfather with new eyes. The guilt that had crushed him earlier began to be eclipsed by immense awe. He realized he knew nothing about his family, his village, or the power that flowed through his blood.
Grandpa Keywiln walked toward his grandson, the monster blood on his cheek failing to hide his gentle smile. "Let's go home, Keyzier. Your friend needs a proper bed, and you... you have a lot of explaining to do to us!"