By the time the forest thinned and Wrenfield's rooftops came into view, the sun had long begun its slow descent. The sky burned a deep gold, the light slanting through the trees like molten glass. Every step we took was accompanied by the soft rustle of our boots in the undergrowth and the faint, satisfied silence that follows a hard-won victory.
None of us said much. There wasn't much to say. Fifteen vampires dead, one village safe—if that wasn't a good week's work, I didn't know what was.
"Night's almost here," Landon murmured as we crested the last rise.
"Yeah," I said, shading my eyes. "Perfect timing to walk into whatever storm's waiting for us."
Chloe groaned beside me. "Or we could not. We could, I don't know, not walk into it. We could head north instead. There's a whole world of villages that don't know our faces."
"Running away already?" Landon teased, his voice carrying that easy confidence that made people listen even when he wasn't trying to lead.
"Not running. Just choosing peace for once." Chloe shot him a look. "Not all of us enjoy being gawked at like circus beasts."
"She has a point," I said, though not very convincingly. "Still… he's right, too."
Her eyes narrowed at me. "Traitor."
"Sorry," I said, smiling faintly. "Democracy's a harsh mistress."
"Yeah? Well, you're supposed to support your fellow woman."
"And you're supposed to stop falling for every guy who looks good in armor."
Landon coughed, failing miserably to hide a laugh. "Ladies, please. We're still in enemy territory."
"No," I said. "We're in victory territory."
We reached the edge of the village just as the last rays of sunlight washed over the cobbled paths. Smoke rose from the chimneys. Doors were shut tight, windows barred, as though the night still held claws even after we'd burned its monsters to ash. A few people lingered near the square—men and women with wary faces and curious eyes.
When they saw us, their expressions shifted.
Shock. Then whispering. Then the unmistakable stir of awe.
I didn't need the System to tell me who had spread the word.
"Well," Chloe muttered, crossing her arms. "Looks like our drunk friend woke up chatty."
"No surprise there," I said. "The man's mouth runs faster than our blades."
Landon gave a quiet laugh. "Let him have his story. He earned it."
We walked through the main street, every eye on us. Conversations halted as we passed. Some faces showed gratitude, others disbelief. A few stepped aside as though we were contagious. That was the thing about our kind—demon and beast slayers. Revered, feared, and rarely understood.
By the time we reached the inn, I could feel the tension thick in the air. The door swung open before we even knocked.
The innkeeper stood there—a stout woman with silver-streaked hair and eyes like burnished copper. Her apron was dusted with flour, and her expression was caught between wonder and alarm.
"You three," she said slowly. "You're the ones."
"Depends who's asking," Landon replied with that polite half-smile of his.
"The drunkard!" she said, clapping a hand to her chest. "He came running here at dawn, screaming about monsters and warriors and fire! I thought he was just seeing things again, but then the others said they heard noises last night. Screams, metal, the smell of smoke." She leaned forward, voice dropping to a near whisper. "He said you were demon and beast slayers."
Silence hung for a heartbeat. Then Landon nodded once.
"We are."
The woman's eyes widened. Her mouth fell open, and then she broke into a broad grin. "Well, bless the gods and damn my tongue for ever doubting him! You three heroes! In my inn!"
I blinked. "That's… not the reaction I expected."
"I thought she'd faint," Chloe murmured.
"Or throw holy water at us," I added.
The innkeeper laughed, the sound warm and genuine. "Oh, please! I've seen worse things than your kind. My husband used to hunt werewolves before he lost his leg. You've done us a service no one else could. Saved this place from being drained dry, you did!"
She threw open the door wider. "Get inside! You must be starving."
We stepped in. The scent hit me first—baked bread, roasted meat, spices. My stomach growled loud enough for Chloe to hear.
"Looks like someone's hungry," she teased.
I elbowed her lightly. "Shut up and eat."
The woman led us to a long table already laid out with food far too generous for three people. Platters of roasted chicken, loaves of steaming bread, and pitchers of cider gleamed under the candlelight. It looked like a feast for ten.
"This is… excessive," Landon said quietly.
"It's gratitude," the woman replied firmly. "And it's staying right here till every bite's gone."
We ate. Gods, did we eat. The food wasn't fancy, but it was real—warm, seasoned, alive. I hadn't realized how empty I'd been until the first bite hit my tongue. The cider was sweet, the meat tender. Chloe hummed through every mouthful. Landon, of course, ate with quiet politeness, as though table manners mattered after a night of killing vampires.
After a while, I leaned back, sighing. "If I die, I want it to be from overeating, not claws."
"Seconded," Chloe said, reaching for another loaf.
When we finally pushed the plates away, the woman returned with keys—three of them. "Separate rooms for each of you tonight," she said cheerfully. "The best ones we have."
"Separate?" Chloe repeated, her tone sharp enough to cut.
"Of course," the woman said, missing the irritation completely. "A lady needs her rest."
Landon accepted his key with a gracious nod. "Thank you."
Chloe muttered something that sounded suspiciously like traitor under her breath.
I smirked. "Guess we all get our privacy tonight."
"Some of us didn't want privacy," she shot back, glaring at me. Sure, privacy's overrated when there's a Landon to ogle.
"Your funeral," I said sweetly, and followed the innkeeper upstairs.
The room was simple but clean—a bed with thick quilts, a washbasin, a small window overlooking the square. I dropped onto the mattress and exhaled. My armor had long since been willed away into the System—vanishing with a shimmer of light, back into magical nothingness until I called for it again. Now, in my travel clothes, I felt almost normal. Almost human.
Outside, the village was quiet. The kind of quiet that hides fear beneath relief.
Somewhere, I heard Chloe pacing her room. Somewhere else, Landon's low voice hummed through the floorboards—maybe a prayer, maybe a thought. I closed my eyes and let the exhaustion take me.
The morning came with light so bright it stung my eyes. When I stumbled downstairs, the common room was already bustling. Word had spread even further. People filled the inn—farmers, traders, even children—all craning their necks to get a look at us.
As soon as they saw me, someone shouted, "It's her!"
Then they started clapping.
I froze halfway down the stairs, blinking. Chloe appeared behind me, rubbing her eyes, and stopped dead.
"What the hell is happening?"
Landon descended after us, perfectly composed as always. "Apparently," he said, "we're celebrities now."
The innkeeper beamed at us from behind the counter. "We're throwing a celebration! You three are guests of honor."
Chloe groaned. "Oh, gods."
"You can't say no," I whispered. "You'll hurt their feelings."
"I could live with that."
"Not with me around."
The woman clapped her hands for silence. "Everyone! These are the brave slayers who saved Wrenfield from the creatures of the night!"
A cheer erupted. Tankards were raised, voices lifted. The sound filled the room, spilling out into the street. The drunkard—yes, that drunkard—stood on a table, waving his mug like a flag.
"There they are!" he bellowed. "The ones who saved my sorry hide! That woman—" he pointed straight at me "—cut a vampire clean in half! And that man—oh, you should've seen him! Like a storm in boots, he was! And her—" he pointed to Chloe "—she moves like lightning, she does!"
Chloe's cheeks flamed red. "I'm going to kill him."
"No, you're not," I said, trying not to laugh. "He's your biggest fan."
The drunkard took a swig of ale and kept going. "They came out of nowhere! Fire and silver! One vampire tried to run—ha! They burned him to ash! To ash!"
"Is that true?" someone shouted.
I shrugged. "More or less."
Landon smiled faintly. "He's embellishing."
"He's drunk," Chloe corrected.
"He's happy," I said. "Let him have it."
As the day rolled on, the celebration grew. Tables were moved outside, food and drink multiplied, and laughter filled the air like music. Children ran around pretending to slay invisible monsters. Women brought flowers. Men offered casks of cider. Even the headman—an old man with a cane and a grin too big for his face—showed up to thank us personally.
Through it all, Landon moved like he'd been born for attention. Every smile drew another swoon. Every word he spoke had women leaning closer. Chloe's glare could've scorched steel.
"You're staring," I said.
"I'm not."
"You are."
She folded her arms. "It's ridiculous. He's not even that charming."
"He's charming enough."
"He's just tall."
"And handsome."
She groaned. "You're supposed to be on my side."
"I'm on the side of truth."
The drunkard—now properly drunk—started singing something off-key and vaguely heroic-sounding about "three slayers and the blood moon." Someone joined in. Then someone else. Before long, the whole village was singing, badly but with heart. Chloe and I exchanged looks and burst out laughing.
"Still think we should've left?" I asked her.
She hesitated, then smiled. "Maybe not."
"See? Landon had a point."
"Don't push it."
The celebration went on until sunset, the entire village glowing orange in the fading light. We ate until we couldn't move, drank enough cider to float a boat, and laughed until our throats hurt. For the first time since joining the Guild, I felt something I hadn't in months—peace.
Landon stood near the edge of the crowd, a tankard in hand, watching the horizon. His expression was distant, thoughtful. I walked over.
"Not celebrating?" I asked.
"I am," he said quietly. "Just… differently."
"Thinking about the next hunt?"
He nodded. "Always."
I followed his gaze. Beyond the village, the forest stretched endlessly—dark, vast, and waiting.
"There'll be more of them," I said softly.
"There always are."
For a while, we stood there in silence. The air smelled of roasted meat and pine smoke, of life continuing in the aftermath of death. The people laughed behind us. The drunkard fell off a barrel. Chloe shouted something about dignity that made no one listen.
Landon smiled faintly. "You know," he said, "you did well back there. Better than well."
"Don't start," I said. "You'll make Chloe jealous."
"She's already jealous."
I laughed. "You're impossible."
"Part of my charm."
I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't help smiling. "Let's just enjoy tonight, yeah?"
He nodded. "Tonight, we rest. Tomorrow… who knows?"
As the first stars appeared overhead, the villagers lit lanterns along the square. Music drifted through the air—a simple tune played on a lute, soft and sweet. Children danced. The drunkard snored in the corner. Chloe, now half-tipsy, was trying to teach a group of women how to hold daggers properly using a loaf of bread.
It was chaos. Beautiful, ridiculous chaos.
I leaned against the fence, watching it all, and let out a slow breath. For once, I didn't feel like a weapon. I felt human again.
And for tonight, that was enough.