Inside the tent sat a wolf beastman, a man of the same race as Baran. He was a massive individual who exuded the air of a seasoned veteran, carrying himself with the easy confidence of the truly powerful.

"This is Walt. He’s a [Herbalist] from the south. He’s the one treating my sister. He followed the trail of medicinal herbs across the plains and ended up out here."

When Baran introduced me, the large man’s expression softened.

"Ah. So you’re the [Herbalist] looking after little Lina? I’ve heard the stories. I’m Sigurd, the Guildmaster of [Steel Fang]."

Sigurd stood up and offered his right hand. It was a rugged hand, as gnarled and solid as a crag. He was so tall I had to crane my neck just to meet his eyes. So this was the man who led an A-rank guild...

Feeling overwhelmed by his sheer presence, I shook his hand. He gripped it with a sudden, firm strength.

"I took you for a soft sort, being a [Herbalist] and all, but you seem like you’ve got some grit," Sigurd said, his eyes appraising me. I felt for a moment as if he could see right through my cover to my past lives.

"...I grew up in the countryside," I replied. "Between the family business, hunting, and the occasional monster, I’ve had to hold my own. I’ve trained enough to handle a solo journey, at least."

"A reliable [Herbalist], then."

With those words, Sigurd offered me a chair. I sat down at the same time as Baran.

"I’m not sure if it’s my place to ask, but... did something happen for you to set up camp in a place like this?" I asked, gauging Sigurd’s reaction. I was certain this move was connected to the overwhelming malice I had sensed emanating from the forest.

"Over the last few days, there’ve been frequent disappearances along the nearby highways. We started our investigation yesterday, and every trail led back to these woods. We’re planning a full-scale sweep of the forest starting tomorrow."

It was easy enough to imagine. Whatever malice lurked in those woods was likely preying on the travelers passing by.

"Bandits? Or perhaps monsters?"

"Exactly. Which is why it’s extremely dangerous to set foot in those trees right now." Sigurd’s expression turned grim.

"Walt... you aren't actually planning to go in there to pick weeds, are you?" Baran asked, his voice a mix of concern and exasperation.

"That was the plan, yes."

"Forget it. Just head back to the Territorial Capital and stay out of trouble."

"I can't do that. I’ve run out of the components I need for Lina's medicine. As long as she hasn't fully recovered, I need those herbs."

"That’s..." Baran made a pained face and looked toward Sigurd, clearly torn.

"If you're going into the forest, you’d better stick with us," Sigurd decided. "If you go off on your own, we won’t be able to help if things go south. Fortunately, you seem like you can handle yourself, so I doubt you’ll be a hindrance."

At Sigurd’s judgment, Baran nodded slowly.

"That’s for the best. We move out tomorrow morning. We’ve got space in the tents, so make yourself at home."

"Are you sure? I’m an outsider."

"It’s fine. Protecting civilians is part of the job for the Steel Fang."

Sigurd nodded in agreement with Baran's words.

"Ah, the water’s ready."

I was treated to tea brewed by Baran and then shown to another tent. While I gathered what herbs I could around the perimeter of the camp, I kept [Malice Sensing] active, constantly probing the dark heartbeat of the forest.

Eventually, the sun dipped below the horizon, and night fell.

As the night deepened and the majority of the Steel Fang members drifted off to sleep, I remained wide awake in the corner of my tent. The malice from the forest was swelling, growing heavier by the minute.

Is it always like this at night? Or is tonight special? I couldn't tell.

Moving with silent footsteps, I pulled back the tent flap and stepped outside. The two men standing watch by the bonfire turned toward me. One of them was Baran.

"Walt? What’s wrong? Can’t sleep?"

A sharp gust of night wind caught the fire, making the flames dance violently across Baran's face.

"Yeah. I have a bad feeling. Don't you feel anything?"

"The nocturnal animals and monsters have just started their hunt, so it’s bound to feel a bit noisy. The forest is usually like this at night, you know?"

"I see..."

I knew the sounds of a night forest well enough. But this was different. I debated whether I should warn them.

Hesitating, I stood by the fire and watched the woods. I felt as though the entire forest were pulsing like a single organism—a rhythmic thump-thump that sent waves of malice surging outward.

At the boundary where the forest met the grassland, red lights began to appear. One, then two.

"Hm?"

"Monsters."

Baran and the other guard noticed the anomaly and spoke up. Even in that short interval, the number of red lights continued to multiply.

"Hey, wake the others!"

"Yes, sir!"

The air grew heavy with tension. Baran drew the longsword from his back while the other man ran to the tents to sound the alarm.

"There's a lot of them."

"Heh, don't worry about it. I'll show you what the Steel Fang can do."

The red lights soon numbered in the dozens, but Baran didn't flinch. On the contrary, he licked his lips as if he were hungry for the fight.

The rest of the Steel Fang members scrambled out of their tents, every one of them drawing their blades. Twelve men in total. They stood ready, their presence perfectly matching the guild's name.

"I'm going first."

Holding his longsword in a low stance, Baran sprinted toward the trees. As if answering his challenge, the red lights leaped from the shadows.

Toggling [Night Vision], I saw them: dozens of Goblins. They swarmed forward, a tide of green flesh targeting Baran.

Baran collided with the horde.

"Hah...!"

Stomping his lead foot into the earth, Baran unleashed a horizontal sweep of his longsword. His killing intent extended well beyond the physical reach of his steel; in an instant, the heads and torsos of the lead goblins were cleanly parted. It was clearly the work of a skill I didn't recognize.

One goblin that had tripped during the charge was the only survivor of the initial wave. Baran closed the distance with light, effortless steps and brought his sword down without a hint of mercy. A final, guttural shriek echoed through the night.

"More are coming...!"

Sigurd’s sharp voice rang out. Even more red lights were emerging from the forest's edge—twice as many as before.

"Form two lines! Intercept them in front of the camp!"

Following the command, the Steel Fang members moved as one. Baran took the center of the front row, while Sigurd held the center of the rear, both staring down the approaching monsters.

The chaos of battle began.

However, my attention wasn't on the skirmish unfolding before me. My eyes were fixed on the malice rising like smoke from deep within the forest. That was surely the source of the purple mist tormenting Lina.

I activated [Stealth Arts] and dissolved into the shadows. It was time to find the root of this malice.