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Detta looked at the letter in her hand. Without a word, she crumpled it into a ball and let it fall into the mountain pass below, standing at the edge with a longsword in her grip.
Her face was sharp and elegant—high cheekbones, a strong jawline, and a focused expression. Her eyes burned with intensity, her full lips set in a calm line. Long black and silver hair flowed behind her like a banner in the wind.
She wore dark, streamlined armor with sharp shoulder plates and glowing green-blue accents. A cloak rippled behind her, adding to her battle-hardened yet mysterious aura. Her gauntlets and leg armor were made from reinforced leather, crafted for agility.
"Looks like we'll be seeing some action soon, Iratus," she whispered to her sword.
"Detta!! We need to pack up soon. Some lower demons are attacking the livestock in the village up ahead!" shouted a man dressed in similar ranger gear, though he carried a bow instead of a sword.
"I'll be there in a moment," she replied.
"It's an honor to serve under you, Captain. Plenty of rangers envy us for being under your command," he said with a cheerful tone as he strode forward with energy.
Detta followed him, steadily ascending the rocky path. Eventually, they rejoined their squad and continued along the mountain track, heading toward their destination—Vastundi. One of the largest villages in the Titan Spine range.
The Titan Spine stretched from the southeastern ocean to the southwestern coast, acting as a natural barrier between the human realm and the Abyss. If not for the Dark Lord cutting a path toward the Weeping Plain, demons would never have gained access to the human lands.
But nothing in the world was perfect. Not even the mighty Titan Spine could stop the corrupting energy of the Abyss. Creatures once native to the range had been twisted into monstrous forms, spreading death and corruption across the mountains.
Neglected by the Minoan Empire, the mountain folk had learned to fend for themselves. From their hardship rose a group of warriors they called Rangers—guardians of the highlands.
Their duty: protect the people from the corrupted beasts roaming the mountain range and the desolate plain beyond, near the edge of the Weeping Plain.
It had been nearly a year since Detta joined the Rangers. With her sword, Iratus, she cut down every threat she encountered. Her prowess earned her the title "Shadow Ranger."
As they neared Vastundi, the guards in the watchtower quickly spotted the familiar green-blue cloaks and armor of the Rangers.
"The Rangers are finally here!"
"We'll be free of those demon-spawned pests!"
"It's the famous 100th Captain—the Shadow Ranger!"
Voices of relief and admiration echoed among the villagers who came out to greet them.
After a brief exchange, a guard led them toward the village chief's house.
The chief, a man in his late sixties, greeted them warmly. He thanked Detta repeatedly, explaining how the village had been under siege for nearly a month. The demons had been slaughtering livestock that grazed in the fields at night. With limited space inside the village, they couldn't shelter all the animals, and even armed guards had failed to stop the attacks.
"Save your thanks until we've dealt with the demon," Detta told him bluntly. "We don't know if we can kill it yet."
"Just having the Rangers here makes us feel safer," the chief replied gratefully. His words stirred something in Detta—resolve.
"We need witnesses. People who've seen how the demon behaves," she said.
"Already prepared. I've gathered survivors of the attacks," the chief replied, ushering them inside.
Three injured men sat inside, bandages wrapped around their heads and necks. As the Rangers entered, they tried to rise.
"No need to stand," said Detta's second-in-command. "Just tell us what you saw."
The man nearest the door began:
"It was dusk. Two friends and I were guarding the livestock. We set a big fire to light the field, hoping it would keep the demon away. But it slipped behind us somehow. Bit one of my friends in the neck—looked like a dog, but bigger than any cow. It had clawed hands and spiky horns along its neck. My friend dropped instantly. When I checked, there were four puncture holes—deep ones. I tried to chase it, but it kicked me square in the head."
Another man added, "It's clever. Only goes after small livestock, avoids well-guarded areas. Picks off guards one by one, then vanishes."
Detta nodded.
"We'll kill it," she said calmly. "I'll act as bait. The rest of the platoon will be standing by."
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