The Castle in the middle of nowhere.

The time of darkness and terror once again returned and the freezing winter took hold of the world. The pack awakened from its slumber and reeled in glee as it marched towards the lands the mortals of this world called Cridia. They were driven to learn how the strongest of their kin had fallen and if it was possible to, once again, seize control of the land. But, they all knew that anything was possible. Mortals were weak. There were no Heroes to protect them. There was no one powerful enough to stop them. Moving through the frozen forest until a strong scent of burning flesh hit their nostrils, they saw shimmers cast by flames burning on the distant glade. The stench of the burning flesh was heavy and... wrong. They knew the scent despite being unstoppable hunters. Sometimes they faced fierce resistance and, occasionally, one of them died. But that was part of the never-ending cycle of the hunt. Cornered prey was often capable of wounding them.

"...our blood..." The leader's voice came like a growl full of venom. "Enemy... Close... Kill!"

The entire pack spread around the glade and rushed in simultaneously. The large clearing wasn't natural. It was dotted by cleanly cut stumps of the trees that must have grown here previously. The ground was muddy from melting snow mixed with soil and the blood of Voidlings killed here. Eighth massive pyres burned brightly spread evenly around the newly-made clearing, consuming the bodies of the pack that had died earlier. The carnage that took place here was recent, with some of their kin's bodies scattered around waiting to be tossed into the fires. All of them were lifeless.

All of them had their hearts torn out...

The slain kin had been left in the mud, the pieces of their bodies scattered around, disrespected, and they died with horror and unbelievable pain painted on their faces. It was unbelievable and unsettling seeing so many level thirty Voidlings killed. There was no trace of dead enemies so whoever managed to kill their brethren was, undeniably, powerful. The forest was silent, it always was in the presence of the Voidlings but, this time, it was different. They huddled together, investigating the scene while trying to catch the scent of those insolent enough to attack them so openly. The silence of the forest was disturbed only by the crackling fires. Until they heard a distant laughter that terrified them.

"Ridiculous..." The pack leader heaved a growl. "Find them! Fin-"

He never finished his order. His entire body erupted in a fountain of blood and gore as he was cut into pieces. When the second in command opened his mouth with an outraged roar, he was impaled by a pillar of ice that suddenly shot from the ground and lifted his thrashing body into the air. The pack froze in shock and fear. They were hunters of the Void. Their masters, Voidlings like them, had snuffed life across the stars of hundreds of universes. They always toyed with their prey.

But now, they were the hunted.

The body of the vice commander hung on the impossibly pure ice spike and stained it with blood, forming bloody flowers in the snow. Short cries of pain signalled the death of other Voidlings as they were cut in half by an invisible sword or pierced by sharp ice shards forming out of nowhere. Before the pack realised they could only run to save their lives, it was already too late. The entire clearing was surrounded by a wall of flames so intense its blue tint was almost invisible under the night sky. Only the immense heat and distorted air betrayed the presence of the deadly barrier. Some of the Voidlings tried their luck anyway and were instantly killed by the flames. Their bodies, almost instantly, turned to ashes with only small parts left behind. It wasn't painless, either, as their agonising screams were full of unbearable pain and torment. The pack instinctively gathered together, sensing unbelievably powerful enemies approaching.

Ten figures crossed the flame barrier as if it wasn't there and stopped a few paces from the panicked group. All of them were wearing crimson-black-and-gold robes that nearly blinded the mana-sensitive eyes of the Voidlings. On their heads, they wore strange, pointy, black hats with a single white feather. Three of them stepped forward, their eyes burning with cruelty and hate which should have corrupted them, making them easy for kin to manipulate and possess, but they were somehow shielded. They had a lingering scent on their bodies; unmistakably, they were offered as vessels to the Gods and underwent the ritual. They should have been changed already and yet, they were standing before what was left from the horde of hunters, and they smiled. There was another stench on them. A repulsive smell that shouldn't be possible. They had been touched by the damned Gods of Order...

"How?!" One of the Voidlings growled with hatred. "There are no more Heroes in Nilmerthis! Why and how are you here?!"

"Oooh? That one talks, Cédric!" A Wolfkin woman chuckled as she rested her weight on the pillar of ice that she must have conjured just for this. "Can we kill it last?"

"Suit yourself, Fjorla." The Elf's voice was much colder than the winter air as he brandished a blue dagger that emitted a cold white glow as if it reflected the moon's light.

"You think that we are Heroes, beast?" Another Wolfkin woman laughed.

"You are as strong as the Mortal Heroes of Old!" The strongest of the surviving Voidlings snarled angrily. "Stop playing with us! Who summoned you?!"

"Ahahaha!" The woman called Fjorla laughed again and almost bent in half. "That's priceless, Lydia!"

"When we report that to our Master, she will be delighted!" Lydia chuckled as well. "But we are not summoned Heroes, animal, we were born and raised in Nilmerthis. We are Arcadians..."

The last sentence was spoken with such pride that it nearly had a crushing weight to it. It sent ripples across the air and resonated deeply with the stained souls of Voidlings. They shouldn't know fear...

But they were afraid.

The Elf was gone. In one moment, he was standing in front of the horde and, at another, he was gone. The sound of torn flesh and a dagger piercing the skin of the Voidlings was the only indicator that he was still nearby. It was a massacre. Unbelievable massacre and there was nothing that the hunters could do to stop it. Wires, nearly invisible, were coiling like living things around the bodies of Voidlings and they followed the will of the Elf. Flesh was cut and rendered from the bone as if the mighty hunters from the void were simple herd animals. Only the faint glow of the moon was any indicator of their deadly presence... No! Somehow, the Elf was able to use the power of the Moon to kill them. It was impossible.

"Ahhhh... You are no fun, Cédric! They will never learn fear if you kill them so quickly!" Fjorla complained before she blurred and buried her dagger in the eye of one of the strongest warriors of the pack and ripped away his heart with her free hand. "Another one to our Lord's collection!"

Her arm, sticking out from the back of the warrior she killed, was covered with ice. His heart was still beating when it disappeared into her spatial storage. This was too much for the horde. They converged on the closest enemy, forgetting about the rest of the Arcadians. It was their last mistake. The pack was exterminated and dismembered. Massive arrows pierced many of them as if their bodies offered the same resistance as fog. Bursts of light, crackling lightning, and flames of various colours killed the hunters one by one. The few remaining Voidlings decided to resort to the greatest weakness of Mortals.

Their mercy.

"Please! We never harmed anyone! We beg you for mercy!" The strongest of the remaining three spread on the ground and begged.

It was humiliating to spread like some helpless animal before the Mortals but their sense of honour wouldn't let them kill a helpless enemy. He buried his face in the mud and clenched his teeth, but these enemies were too dangerous. They had to warn the remaining packs before they were ambushed and obliterated as well.

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"Mercy?" The man asked in a chuckle and his voice seemed deeply amused.

Two short cries of shock and horror marked the death of his two remaining kin. The sickening smell of burning flesh hit his nostrils and he grimaced in pain as scorching heat burned his fur. He, alone, remained. But it had happened before. Some Heroes, in past, had released a single Voidling they captured. He smiled, feeling that he would be victorious. One day, he would return, much stronger than he was now, and he would crush them. He will...

He roared in pain and disbelief when he was lifted into the air, impaled on four pillars of ice that shattered joints in his limbs and almost tore him apart. It hurt... It hurt so much.

"Mercy?" Fjorla's golden eyes shone with a blue hue of mana. So much power... So much potential...

All wasted in service of the rotten Order...

"You're mistaken about something, animal." Lydia lifted his limp head with a single flame covered finger as it dug painfully into his chin, pinning his tongue to the top of his mouth. While painful, the flames weren't burning his body any further. "We are being merciful to you by killing you. This is the extent of mercy you deserve."

His entire body hurt and he was cold, while his tongue and chin were burnt through. It was impossible... The Heroes of Order had never been so cruel. He failed his Gods and they would demand an explanation...

"But don't worry..." The Elf's voice was full of cruelty and mockery. "You won't have to be worried about your foul gods. After all, your crimes can't possibly be atoned for by your demise alone. Your tattered and corrupted soul will serve my Lord for all of eternity..."

•••

"Pathetic..." Lydia snorted. "Did that thing really think we would let it go?"

"Apparently..." Cédric shrugged. "Do you sense any more creatures, Sargent Dan?"

"No, Sir. This was the last group." The Inquisitor replied shortly, still holding his large, compound bow. Shooting an arrow from that monster would require a strength of, at least, three digits. "It was also the biggest horde so far. The rest of the Kill Teams should be finishing our extermination, as well."

"I think that we should send their hearts back to Avalon immediately," Fjorla said, looking toward a silver lamp of the full moon as she took out a scroll. "There are, certainly, more strong Voidlings still hiding in the forest."

"Sergeant, take the rest of the squad, except for Private Dominic, and sweep the forest. Once you find the path where they came from, we will investigate. Hopefully, we will find their lair."

"Yes, Sir!" The elite Inquisitors saluted and vanished into the forest.

Fjorla put the scroll on a table she conjured of ice and started activating it. That scroll was one of their most closely guarded state secrets. The Wolfkin woman, stepping to her side, took out eight, hand-sized, glowing, blue crystals and put them in the designated places on the scroll. In the middle, she placed a storage ring filled with the parts of Voidlings that were destined for the unconsecrated graveyard of Avalon. The crystals started glowing as the scroll was activated when Fjorla gently touched its side. With a brief flash of mana, the ring disappeared and the mana storage crystals were left dark. The scroll, being single use, burst into blue flames and vanished without a trace. Only when she finished, did the rest of her team relax and start chatting.

"So much mana to transport something so small... It's equally marvellous and humbling at the same time." Cédric shook his head. "But damn, it's so awesome..."

"Totally! It's always exciting to test new prototypes!" Fjorla laughed and fixed her hair. "I'm so happy Mistress Luna allowed us to join the hunt."

"Burn all corpses and purify this place, Private Dominic. We don't want their corrupted blood to stain the ground of our beautiful Aderon..." Lydia ordered with a calm voice and raised her hand. Clenching a fist, the nearby corpses started turning into ashes, consumed by invisible flames.

"Yes, Ma'am!" The young Human saluted and pointed his staff at the closest Voidlings which were immediately covered by blue flames that slowly spread as he shouted with a focused expression. "Field of Purification!"

"However... I wasn't expecting them to be so weak..." Cédric scratched the side of his head. "Seriously? The strongest one was at level fifty, if I'm not mistaken."

"Yeah... And most were level thirty." Lydia continued to burn the scattered corpses. "But their stats were quite high. If I didn't know better, I would think they were, at least, level fifty."

"It's a race perk, perhaps?" Fjorla offered as an explanation. "We have just begun to rediscover so many things that were forgotten during the Era of Downfall."

The two of them looked at her friend with thoughtful expressions. The Scholars tasked with researching history called the long, three-thousand-year period after the Age of Heroes, the Era of Downfall for fairly obvious reasons. Most of the knowledge of Summoned Heroes was lost during the war against the Dark Empire, Dungeons became murderous due to the machinations of the Enemies, and people became very weak. There was an entire branch of study exclusively devoted to and tasked with unearthing the long-lost mysteries and knowledge. Scholars were currently tasked with deciphering and understanding the Balantican Empire's technology and history stored in the underground libraries of Vanushka.

"Probably?" Lydia hesitantly agreed and furrowed her brows. "What did it say about Heroes? They should be aware of the presence of our Lord..."

"You are right, unless they are incapable of communicating with their masters." Cédric finished cleaning his dagger and rinsed it with blessed water given to him by Goddess Hera herself. "Considering that, previously, most of the people were level five, on average, level thirty Voidlings could wreak havoc as they pleased. Currently, we are much stronger. The Inquisitorial forces being sent to exterminate Voidlings are level one hundred with, at least, two maxed subclasses while being blessed by ten Gods, which, apparently, is a capacity limit. I know that we are still laughably weak compared to the Emperor, who is a true Summoned Hero, but maybe we have it wrong?"

The two women considered his words for a moment before they burst into laughter.

"You suggest that the Heroes of Old were so weak that we are comparable to them?" Fjorla giggled.

"No..." He laughed as well. "I suggest that our scale of comparison is broken because we think that the Heroes of the Old were as strong as our Lord. I'm beginning to believe that HE is off the charts."

"Fair enough." Lydia nodded seriously.

"My Ladies, my Lord!" Sargent Dan returned just as they stopped laughing. "I believe that we have found traces leading to a common origin point. Our teams are gathering and closing the perimeter to make sure we don't miss any creatures. Spiders and Slimes are closing every gap and searching the entirety of the Forest in random patterns as you instructed."

"Excellent." Fjorla nodded. "Let's proceed."

The clearing was cleansed of any traces of Voidling-life when they departed. It was a sterile place thanks to the purification provided by a max level Inquisitorial Bishop of Verka. Dominic was truly one of the best. They all were. To be an Inquisitor in the service of the Emperor of Arcadia you couldn't be just the best or an elite. That was, just, the minimum to be even considered as a candidate. The Inquisition took the most elite candidates from among all the military branches of the Imperium and pushed them even further. Their Inquisitorial training included, not only, drills and studies necessary for their work but also mental protective conditioning, body enhancement, and a specific combination of subclasses each one of them underwent and maximised. Inquisitors were loyal, without any shade of doubt, and were allowed to call forth the might of allied Gods and use all the might of Arcadia. To become one, was an unbelievable prestige and honour. To fail their training, and drop out, wasn't considered shameful but gave those who failed respect among their peers and recognition as the Truthseekers of Arcadia.

And all Inquisitors bore the title of Daggers of the Fox Empress. Equipped with the best weapons and armour, armed with runes and arcane powers, they were a bulwark against the Enemies of the World. Watchers in the dark. Hunters who hunt the most vile creatures.

They moved slowly and steadily, systematically searching for any traces of corruption in absolute silence. Under the bright light of the moon, they found many, seemingly insignificant, things corrupted by the Ruinous Powers. Wild animals, berry plants, and even a few trees were twisted by Voidlings. While they were uncertain of the exact purpose of this particular corruption, it was theorised that, perhaps, it served a purpose of obtaining more animals and monsters, turning them into lesser Voidlings. They diligently gathered samples to carefully study them in the Inquisitorial Research Facility which was close to the boundaries of Avalon. While they were mindful of the warnings of the Gods, it was important to learn how corruption spread to avoid another tragedy. By morning, they had reached a dark patch of marsh tainted by a thick miasma and filled with the rotten stench of decay. They surrounded the place and the Inquisitorial Bishop teams prepared a massive purification field that would cover the entire swamp.

Their orders were clear.

Exterminate the Enemy without taking unnecessary risks.