Chapter 264: Demonic Beast

"shit shit shit shit! Forty-three years," the older rough-looking man muttered, his voice shaking. "Forty-three years I’ve been an adventurer. I’ve killed goblins. I’ve killed trolls. I’ve killed things that would make a grown man weep. And in all that time, I have never—never—fought a demonic beast."

"Thirty-one years for me," the younger one said, his knife trembling in his grip. "Never saw one. Never wanted to. Always avoided quests related to them, fuck!"

"Well, that one’s right there!"

The mother was huddled against the far side of the carriage, her arms wrapped so tightly around her son that the boy had stopped crying. He was just staring, wide-eyed, at the beast. The bard had dropped his lute. His fingers were white-knuckled around the neck of the instrument, and his mouth was opening and closing without making a sound.

The coachman had fainted. He was slumped in his seat, his reins slack in his hands.

Nathan didn’t blame any of them.

The beast was terrifying. It radiated something wrong, a pressure that made his skin crawl, a weight that made the air feel thick and heavy. It was demonic, corrupted. Every instinct he had as a Climber was screaming at him to be careful.

But he wasn’t afraid.

He had faced worse. He had faced the Pyre Wyrm. The Ice Queen Butterfly. The Crimson Lord. Vorlagrath. The Shepherd.

A demonic stag? That was just another monster.

Nathan drew Moonlight from his back and stepped out of the carriage.

"Stay inside," he said, his voice calm. "Don’t move. Don’t make a sound."

The beast’s four purple eyes locked onto him. The flames on its horns flared brighter, casting dancing shadows across the road. It pawed at the ground with one massive hoof, cracking the earth beneath it.

Nathan nocked an arrow. A basic mana arrow. Nothing fancy.

He fired.

The arrow streaked across the distance, aimed directly at the beast’s center eye. It struck—and shattered.

The beast didn’t even flinch.

’Tough hide,’ Nathan thought. ’Magical resistance too.’

The beast charged.

It moved faster than anything that size should. Its hooves thundered against the road, each step sending tremors through the ground. Its head was lowered, horns aimed directly at Nathan’s chest.

Nathan activated [Nimble Feet] and sidestepped.

The beast thundered past him, its massive body missing by inches. The wind of its passage tore at Nathan’s cloak, and the purple flames on its horns seared the air where he had been standing.

Nathan fired again. Three arrows in rapid succession. Each one aimed at a different eye.

The first two shattered. The third struck the beast’s hide and bounced off, leaving a faint scorch mark.

’The hide is tough, but not invincible,’ Nathan noted. ’I need more power.’

He activated [Focus Shot]. The arrowhead began to glow as mana poured into it.

The beast turned, its hooves tearing up the road as it pivoted. It charged again, faster this time.

Nathan held his ground. The arrow was still charging—ten seconds, fifteen.

The beast closed the distance. Twenty seconds. Its horns were inches from his chest.

Nathan released.

The arrow punched through the beast’s hide, driving deep into its shoulder. The creature roared—a sound that was half stag, half something else entirely. It stumbled, its charge faltering.

Nathan didn’t give it time to recover. He fired another volley of mana arrows, each one aimed at the same wound. The beast roared again, thrashing, its purple eyes blazing with fury.

The beast charged a third time, but this time it wasn’t aiming for him. It was aiming for the carriage.

"No you don’t."

Nathan activated [Multi-Shadow Clones]. Three identical copies of himself appeared, each one raising a bow. The beast hesitated, its eyes darting between the targets.

The real Nathan circled behind it.

He fired a [Death’s Homing Compass], marking the beast’s flank. The sigil flashed, and he fired again. The arrow curved through the air, weaving past the beast’s thrashing head, and struck the mark dead center.

The beast screamed, then it turned toward him, abandoning the carriage. Its movements were slower now, its breathing ragged. The wound on its shoulder was bleeding black ichor, and the purple flames on its horns were flickering.

’Almost there,’ Nathan thought.

He charged [Focus Shot] again. Sixty seconds. He didn’t have time to wait that long—the beast would recover or flee.

He released at thirty seconds.

The arrow struck the beast’s center eye. The purple light in that eye exploded, and the beast collapsed, its legs giving out beneath it. It hit the ground hard, sending up a cloud of dust.

Nathan approached slowly, another arrow nocked. The beast was still moving, still breathing, but its movements were weak. The purple flames on its horns were dying.

He put an arrow through its other eye.

The beast went still.

---

The purple flames guttered out.

The wrongness in the air faded. The color returned to the world—the greens of the trees, the browns of the road, the blue of the sky. The oppressive pressure lifted, and suddenly Nathan could breathe again.

The beast’s body began to change.

It shrank. The massive, stone-like hide softened, turning to normal fur. The horns retracted, becoming ordinary antlers. The four eyes merged into two, and the purple light faded to a dull, dead brown.

Within seconds, the demonic beast was gone. In its place was a normal stag. A large one, but normal. Its body was thin, almost emaciated. Its fur was patchy. It looked like it had been sick for a long time.

Nathan lowered his bow.

"It’s dead," he said. "Guys, It’s over."

---

The carriage door opened slowly.

The older rough-looking man stepped out first, his eyes wide. He walked toward the dead stag, his footsteps cautious, as if he expected it to rise again.

"By the gods," he whispered. "You killed it. You actually killed it."

The younger man joined them, his knife still in his hand. He stared at the stag, his expression a mix of awe and horror.

"That was a demonic beast," he said. "A creature corrupted by demonic miasma. They’re a core part of the demon kings army. Grunts. They’re dangerous. Most adventurers go their whole careers without seeing one."

"How do you know so much about them?" Nathan asked.

The older man knelt beside the stag, examining its body. "I studied them. Back when I was younger and stupider. Demonic beasts are normal animals that have been exposed to the Demon King’s influence. The miasma twists them. Makes them stronger. Faster. More aggressive. And it drains the color from the world around them."

The younger man nodded. "They’re not natural. They’re made. The Demon King’s forces create them. Sometimes on purpose. Sometimes by accident."

Nathan looked at the stag. A normal animal, twisted into a monster. He had seen corruption before—the Nemesis Court’s mutations, the Shepherd’s rot. This was different. This was simpler. But it was just as wrong.

"The village," Nathan said. "The one we passed. Was that a demonic beast too?"

The older man’s face darkened. "Probably. Demonic beasts don’t just kill. They slaughter. They don’t eat for hunger, it’s in their instinct to destory. That village... that was a demonic beast’s work."

Nathan felt a cold weight settle in his chest. He had been right to leave. If he had stayed to investigate, the beast might have caught him off guard. The passengers might have died.

But he had also been right to fight. If he hadn’t, the beast would have caught them on the road. They would have died.

He looked at the dead stag one last time.

"We should go," he said. "The capital is still a few days away."