Meanwhile, the possessed girl thrashes violently, slipping free from her parents’ desperate grasp. Her body contorts unnaturally, limbs jerking as if yanked by invisible strings.

  Strands of messy hair whip wildly, her wide, unblinking eyes burning with madness. Drool glistens on her trembling lips.

  A single cloth wraps her from chest to thigh, but her beauty is overshadowed by the sheer horror of her trance.

  Adanu Raksa narrows his eyes. A thought creeps in—is she haunted by the same spirits that hunt me?

  He hesitates. His branded soul has a way of agitating evil spirits. If he gets too close, he might make things worse.

  But then—

  A ridiculous idea pops into his head.

  “Chief, tell the others to let her go.”

  The Village Chief’s face twists. “Are you out of your mind?”

  Adanu smirks. “If this spirit works for the shaman, it’ll lead us straight to him.”

  Understanding flickers in the Chief’s eyes. He nods and orders the villagers to stand back.

  The moment they release her, the girl’s violent thrashing eases. She staggers forward, moving without hesitation toward the village road.

  A few villagers trail behind, wary.

  Adanu Raksa turns to the Chief. “I’ll keep watch from the trees.”

  The Chief blinks. “Why?”

  Adanu doesn’t answer. Instead, he leaps onto a rooftop.

  “Just follow her!” he calls back before vanishing into the darkness.

  From the treetops, he moves swiftly, leaping from branch to branch, tracking her progress from above.

  He has no choice. If the demons come looking for him, he can’t risk being near the villagers.

  At the northern edge of the village, the girl wanders into the woods, her steps slow but deliberate. She moves uphill, deeper into the rainforest.

  Adanu Raksa follows from above, hand on his sword.

  Then—

  A faint glow flickers in the dark.

  A bonfire, burning atop a distant cliff.

  His eyes narrow. Could it be…?

  He drops from the trees and lands beside the Chief.

  “That’s enough. Get the girl and take her back.”

  The Chief’s face tightens. “Have you found the shaman?”

  Adanu exhales. “Not sure. But it’s too dangerous to let her go any further.”

  Without waiting for an answer, he vanishes into the forest.

  The hill looms ahead. But as he moves toward it, he finds his path blocked—

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  A river.

  Or at least… what should be a river. The water is almost gone. The riverbed lies cracked and dry.

  And then he sees why.

  Upstream, hundreds of demons and undead cluster together. But they’re not just standing there. They’re piling onto each other—limbs tangled, rotting bodies stacking into a grotesque, writhing mass.

  A dam.

  A shifting, unnatural dam made of the dead.

  Adanu’s stomach twists. “…What the hell?”

  The undead squirm against each other, bodies pressing tight, holding back the river’s flow. Some are crushed under the weight of their own kind, but more keep throwing themselves onto the pile.

  The mass shudders as fresh waves of corpses join the blockade.

  This isn’t natural.

  Undead don’t act like this.

  They don’t build. They don’t strategize.

  And yet—something is making them do this.

  Adanu’s grip tightens on his sword. “What the hell is controlling them?”

  Well, he doesn’t have time to figure that out. He simply crosses the river while it’s still dry.

  But sadly…

  A deep groan rumbles through the blockade.

  His presence—his corrupted soul—has attracted them.

  And soon, the dam shudders violently. Cracks splinter through the shifting wall of bodies, the weight of the trapped water pushing against it.

  Adanu clicks his tongue. “Tch. Mind your damn business, will you?”

  Then—

  “Shiiit!”

  The dam convulses.

  And—

  BRSSH!!!

  The grotesque barricade collapses.

  Water erupting.

  A flood roaring down the riverbed like an unchained beast.

  Adanu sprints forward, leaping across the last stretch as the flood surges after him.

  He reaches higher ground just in time. Looking back, he sees forest demons swept away, their bodies tumbling through the raging current.

  But some escape.

  And now—they’re hunting him.

  Adanu curses under his breath. “Fuck! Here they come!”

  More undead emerge from the trees. Above, evil spirits drift between the branches, shifting like black smoke.

  There’s no choice now. He sighs and unties the ribbon wrapped around his sword.

  Time to work.

  His sword cuts through bone and sinew, reducing forest demons and spirits alike to shrieking, writhing remains.

  But they keep coming.

  Adanu grits his teeth. “I don’t have time for this shit all night.”

  Instead of slaughtering them all, he carves a path, killing only those in his way. He sprints up the hill, leaving behind a trail of mangled corpses.

  ***

  At last, he reaches the top of the cliff. And what he finds makes his stomach twist.

  A makeshift altar stands at the cliff’s edge, built from the massive remains of a felled tree.

  Torches burn low, flickering in the cold air. And at the altar’s center—

  A heap of headless young women lies motionless. Their naked bodies, bloodstained and limp, discarded like broken dolls.

  Adanu wipes his forehead, jaw tightening. “Messier than I expected. Hope I don’t have to clean this up later.”

  A figure stirs near the grotesque offering. A shirtless man, seated calmly, back facing Adanu.

  Adanu Raksa doesn’t need to see his face to know. This is the one he’s looking for.

  The bounty poster didn’t do him justice. He’s young—too young to be a shaman. But his calm, knowing gaze as he turns to face Adanu sends a chill down his spine.

  Adanu exhales. His eyes flick to the corpses. “You stir chaos in Kulonsewu, offer them rain, and demand sacrifices?”

  The young shaman doesn’t answer.

  He simply watches.

  Unshaken. Unafraid.

  Then, a slow smirk spreads across his lips.

  “I see.” His voice is smooth, almost amused. He twirls his wooden staff, resting it against his shoulder. “Now I understand. My demons were so hard to control… because of you.”

  A pause.

  Then, his smirk widens.

  “A man marked as an offering for the Carrion Flower Devil.”

  Adanu freezes.

  The fact that this man instantly recognizes him as a former offering sends a ripple of shock through him. Even stranger—he knows about the Carrion Flower Devil.

  “Escaping the Carrion Flower Devil and surviving the demons’ hunt?” the shaman muses. “You’re not just some wandering swordsman, are you?”

  Few can sense Adanu’s condition. Only demons are drawn to the corruption that seeps from his soul.

  One thought crosses his mind—

  Is this man even human?

  Adanu rolls his shoulders. “So, you claim to control these demons? That explains why they stopped bothering me. Let me guess… you’re not human either.”

  The shaman smirks. “Not human, you say? Kukuku…”

  Slowly, his frame shifts. Shoulders widen. His chest swells, thickening unnaturally. Dense black fur spreads across his skin as his spine hunches forward.

  Adanu squints, barely making out the full transformation.

  Then, the young shaman raises his staff, whispering incantation.

  The forest stirs.

  A rush of evil spirits surges through the trees, racing toward the altar.

  Forest demons and undead emerge. They crawl from the shadows, drawn to the shaman’s call.

  Adanu exhales. “So, you really do control these ugly bastards. How many humans did you sacrifice for that trick?”

  The shaman chuckles. “Still acting calm, even when they’re starving for you?”

  The spirits tremble, their hunger barely contained. The demons twitch restlessly, claws scraping dirt.

  And yet—

  They do not attack.

  Something holds them back.

  Then, the shaman raises both hands. “I know how much you crave his corrupted soul. If you’re hungry—devour him!”

  At his command, the spirits break free, surging forward like a black tide.

  Adanu Raksa smirks.

  And then—

  Swssh!

  A single stroke.

  And several spirits butchered in an instant.

  Their screams shatter the silence, sending a flock of bats screeching into the night.

  The shaman’s eyes widen. Surprised.

  “He can… slay spirits?”

  That shouldn’t be possible.

  Spirits aren’t bound by flesh. They cannot be touched. Even the strongest warriors avoid them.

  And despite a spirit’s touch doesn’t wound—it drains life, shatters sanity.

  And yet—

  Adanu Raksa doesn’t flinch.

  Several spirits latch onto him, trying to siphon his life force.

  For a moment, their shrieks twist into delighted whispers.

  But then—

  Shnng!

  He swings. The last spirit penetrating his body splits apart.

  “Tch. Don’t think you can get a free meal off me.”

  The others wail, their laughter twisting into agony.

  The shaman stares. Face twisted.

  Then…

  He extends a hand toward a spirit, curling his fingers like pulling invisible strings.

  One spirit jerks violently, drawn toward him.

  “He doesn’t seem affected by you.” His voice stays calm, but his gaze sharpens. “Don’t tell me… you failed to drain him?”

  The spirit shudders, raising both hands in a silent plea. Then, it whispers into the shaman’s mind—

  << I did eat his life force. >>

  A trembling confession.

  Then, the spirit backs off.

  The shaman tilts his head. “Hmm? Maybe… he’s just used to it.”

  His expression darkens.

  “Surely, this isn’t the first time someone has tried to devour his soul.”