The Demon's Chosen.

able in the garden, close to the fence separatin

e most who dare to cross it at night rarely return. Locals here are very superstitious about

"Knowing it's dangerous t

e town market, people highly seek after it, and no matter how much is brought, it's never enough. Moreover, it seems that the danger only lurks at night, so some daredevils still venture through the slope into the forest during

besides the White Bone Well, is

the middle of it, the storyteller felt a stomach ache and ran a distance to relieve himself, not once but several times, and then, exhausted, collapsed and fell asleep on the ground. Unexpectedly, he slept until nearly dawn when the crowing of roosters woke him up. When he returned to the spot, his friends were nowhere to be seen, only two skeletons with bits o

knowing who discarded t

ch of roosters transformed into spirits, enticing others to da

shiver: "Oh, that

rows: "If you're scare

ut still, I might just go and hunt for a roasted chicken, I'v

eding you grass, it's been nothing but m

e a pigeon, handing it to Dominic: "Keep this with you. If you're in danger, try to

ll come to

e to collect your bones the next

clothing, then left the house carrying his cloth-wrapped sword. He also grab

he top of the hill and then descended. Passing by the well, he glanced in, find

cense burner devoid of a single stick. Remembering the saying: "Respect demons and deities, and be caut

fortunately come upon it. I offer this incense as a gesture of good f

upernatural, maintain a respectful attitude. It warns against the arrogance of atheism in the face of unknown forces, as it may

hes glistening in the moonlight. Curious, he picked one and took a bite, recognizing the sweet taste of the Dead Buffalo fruit. After eating one, he felt an unusual surge o

ntil he heard the distant sound of drums:

w louder. Approaching a certain distance, he

he drums, while the rest formed a circle around a large fire, roasting a massive slab

. Everyone wore garish, flamboyant costumes, seemingly made from hundred

uldn't identify as either singing or reciting a spell

their repetitive dancing and strange noises. He stood up

. He approached an old man playing the drum, slowly sitting down next to him

planted his cloth-wrapped sword upright in

ooshing past his face, his limbs automatically moving in sync with the others. Sometimes, his arms spread wide, resting on the shoulders of those beside hi

uth too opened, emitting strange sounds in harmony with the group's tune, a sudden passion for dancing overtak

derstood the fate of other victims. Anyone who accidentally joined this dance couldn't stop th

ament, escaping the enchanting trap not an easy feat, r

rity, he bit the tip of his tongue and spat out a

e tongue's tip, the most potent and vital, could temporarily break

ment of unleashed po

n-slaying power and a special bond with its master, vibrated in response to Dominic's powerful cal

is tongue only momentarily awakening his mind, not freeing him from the enchantment. His hands, elegantly flipping and turn

his mind, temporarily freeing his body from

t, muttering to himself: "Lucky the swo

ing: "Once is more than enough." he leaped up, spinning the sword in his hand so the blade point

word image, shimmering with a pink glow, that plunged straight down from the sky to the earth. The fo