"Hey, keep it down."
At a temporary camp more than ten kilometers away from the small forest, a werewolf in charge of guarding the captives impatiently tapped the ground with the spear in his hand, glaring at the captives crying out in panic on the ground. "If you don't want to suffer, then shut up."
"Y-yes, yes..."
The gleaming spearhead seemed to terrify the three bound human captives even more, making them stop their meaningless moans and tremble all over with their heads lowered.
"If you draw the attention of the Demonia, don't think for a second that we'll protect you."
The werewolf sneered, giving the shivering humans a disdainful glance before retracting his spear.
Upon hearing the word "Demonia," the three humans trembled even more violently.
The Demonia—among the fifteen races, they were the only one not created by a god-species, but by a "Demon Lord" from the Fantasy-species.
They were also the only race among the fifteen that lacked rational thought, acting purely on instinct.
Their size, strength, and abilities varied greatly, but even the weakest among them could easily crush the lower-ranked races.
Whether human or beastman, no one wished to encounter such monsters while traveling.
But at this moment, the three human captives thought differently.
They exchanged glances filled with resignation.
The fear was merely an act.
From the moment they were captured by the Werebeast, they knew their chances of survival had reached the end—there was absolutely no way to escape.
The Werebeast were a race known for their pure physical strength—physically even stronger than the forest elves.
Even if the Werebeast gave them an hour's head start, they could still track them down using their excellent sense of smell and superior physique.
The only chance for escape lay in hoping for a nearby Demonia.
Even if they were to die at the hands of such a creature, it was still better than ending up as food for the Werebeast.
At least the pain of death would be brief.
And if they could escape amidst the chaos caused by a Demonia, that would be even better.
However, just as they were beginning to make their move, the guarding werewolf halted them.
Still, they refused to sit and wait for death—they were waiting for their next chance.
"Who's there!?"
Just then, a disturbance seemed to break out within the beastman camp.
Shouts of alarm from the Werebeast echoed through the area, putting every warrior in the hunting party on high alert. One after another, they rushed toward the source of the noise, weapons in hand.
Even the werewolf guarding the captives disappeared within seconds, spear in hand, vanishing from the humans' line of sight.
The sounds of battle soon filled the air.
"This is it!"
A man with a scar on his face had a gleam of excitement in his eyes. He spat out a blood-stained blade from his mouth.
The other two men also became quietly excited and began using their own tricks to quickly cut through the ropes that bound their hands and feet.
Though they didn't know what exactly had happened in the camp, the continuous sound of fighting suggested that the Werebeast had encountered an enemy.
Now was the perfect chance to escape.
"No, we can't run yet."
Just as the other two prepared to flee, the scar-faced man, clearly the leader, stopped them. "We have to find out what's going on inside the camp first."
"Boss, if we don't run now, we'll lose our chance!" the thin man said anxiously. "Whatever's going on—if they settle it, we won't have a chance to get away!"
"Even if we run now, once they're done over there, they'll hunt us down and drag us back!" the scar-faced man growled, grabbing the thin man's collar. "You know how keen their sense of smell is! If we go back to the outpost and they come after us, we're all dead!"
"Boss is right," the last man, a steady middle-aged one, nodded with difficulty. "Even if we're going to die, we can't bring danger to the outpost. We can only move once we're sure this chaos has wiped out the entire beastman hunting party."
Seeing both his seniors say this, the thin man bit his lip and reluctantly agreed.
So the three picked up the equipment that originally belonged to them, covered every inch of their skin, and cautiously moved toward the direction of the battle sounds.
This hunting party had at least thirty Werebeast.
They were near the end of their hunting operation, and most of the dispatched scouting squads had already regrouped here.
When the three humans arrived at the center of the beastman camp and peeked toward the source of the commotion, they froze.
They had arrived just in time to witness the fall of the last three Werebeast.
Over thirty strong beastman warriors now lay dead on the ground.
The sound of battle completely ceased.
Apart from the crackling campfire and occasional cries from the livestock, the beastman camp had become a graveyard.
Their eyes instinctively turned to the sole remaining figure standing in the center of the clearing.
It was a girl with short white hair, pure white wings on her back, and a holy halo above her head—she looked just like an angel descended from the heavens.
The girl stood in a pool of blood, like a divine envoy delivering judgment to the sinners.
In just a brief moment, she had taken dozens of lives, yet her expression remained unchanged.
But the expressions of the three humans twisted into terror.
They immediately ducked behind cover again, clasping their hands over their mouths, fearing even the slightest sound would draw her attention.
This time, their fear was genuine and came from the depths of their hearts.
Because they knew—that wasn't an angel bringing judgment.
That was a demon bringing death.
A demon even more terrifying than the Demonia.
"A Flugel?! Why is a Flugel here?!" the scar-faced man screamed internally. "And why is she attacking Werebeast?! Aren't they supposed to look down on dealing with low-level beings?!"
Even though they were an insignificant race, humans had learned basic intel about the other races in order to survive in this world.
But now, a Flugel—who supposedly only cared about fighting the strong—had slaughtered an entire beastman camp.
This was not good news for humans.
Because if she had killed the Werebeast, she might just kill them too.
"Excuse me."
Just as the three held their breath, curled up behind cover, a cold female voice echoed above their heads.
Their hearts instantly leaped into their throats.
There were no Werebeast left alive in the camp.
So the only ones she could be talking to—were them.
The scar-faced man swallowed hard and stiffly looked up.
There, he saw the white-haired girl floating in the sky, staring down at them.
Her eyes—like a frozen ocean, devoid of any emotion—pierced into their very souls, freezing them in place and sending chills down their spines.