"She’s... she’s dead?"

The kind old woman... she had died.

"You killed her!"

White growled out, grabbing his sword and ripping it out from the snow as it rose high into the air.

"I killed her!? Hehehehe!?"

The demon retorted, laughing out loud as the sword hung in the air.

"Are you forgetting it was you who gave me the chance by not killing me when you had the chance?"

"I could not kill her granddaughter before her eyes. Even if her mind had already been corrupted, how could I kill her before her?"

"Well..."

"Now both her and her precious grandmother are dead...thanks to your kindness."

It spoke while watching, with an evil grin, as the sword the horned man held wavered uncontrollably.

"So what’s it going to be? You’re going to feed me those flowers or what?"

"After all, the grandmother would’ve wanted you to save me somehow, wouldn’t she? Hehehe—"

RIIIIIIIIP!

The evil cackling came to a sudden stop, and the demon’s eyes widened as it looked upward.

There, kneeling on the ground, was the horned guard who had pierced his sword straight through its mouth, leaving the blade protruding from the back of its head.

White watched with clenched teeth as the life drained from the demon’s eyes, but then its entire body suddenly turned dark, dispersing into shadows.

Yet something was left behind.

A blue orb of sorts flew straight into White’s hands faster than he could react.

The second it dispersed into him, the sensation of coldness vanished instantly, same for the claw marks he had sustained during the battle.

He clenched his hands and could clearly feel that his strength had increased.

Not back to his previous strength, but still a clear increase compared to before.

He rose back to his feet, sheathing the sword before turning toward the cottage.

There lay the repulsive sight of the dead old woman, and without saying a word, White picked up her corpse.

He returned to the snow, dug her a grave, and buried her remains within.

He remained standing quietly for a while, reminiscing, and he came to one conclusion.

"It was my fault."

He mused quietly.

He had not wanted her to feel the pain of losing her granddaughter. How could he bring her pain when she had brought him into her home and taken care of him?

That was why he had foolishly believed there could exist another solution, but... kindness had failed him this time.

He gave one quiet bow at the grave before turning his back and continuing into the distance.

With the cold no longer being a problem, it allowed him to think more clearly.

This was all a test, and according to the old lady, all those who carried swords upon their backs were Royal Guards sent to eliminate those infected by the demon plague.

Right now, White was weakened, yet after killing the demon, his strength had increased.

That also pointed to the fact that if he continued killing demons, which was the task of the Royal Guards, then he should eventually return to his original strength.

’So that’s the test... kill the demons?’

White mused, pausing when he noticed a row of those same cottage buildings.

He didn’t even need to step into them for him to feel the demonic aura quietly oozing out from some of the cottages.

Steeling his eyes and heart, he stepped toward one of the cottages and knocked thrice.

The door was answered by a tall, lanky man who looked at him with fear and caution.

"You... a Royal Guard."

He said, but White didn’t answer.

"Please... please come in."

He quickly said, and White stepped inside.

There, laid across a chair, was a young boy around the age of seventeen, currently hugged by a woman, both having fallen asleep in each other’s arms.

From the boy’s position, White could easily see the dark veins spreading across his neck, a sign that he too had been infected.

"A hot drink for the cold, if you will... sir."

The man said with a smile, stretching a cup of coffee toward White, who refused it, choosing instead to sit down.

He turned to the man and pointed toward the seat opposite him, a message for him to sit as well, which he did.

"I..."

White began but paused as thick white smoke escaped from his mouth.

He raised his head, looking into the frightened eyes of the man, and spoke.

"I just came from the house of a kind old woman."

He began.

"I was cold, and she opened the doors of her home to me. She offered me a steaming cup of coffee too."

He added.

"Ah... sounds like a kind old woman indeed."

The man said with a half-hearted laugh.

"She had a granddaughter. One inflicted with the plague."

White said, and the man froze.

"She acted up, but there was this flower. The Penoly flower that slowed her condition."

"Yes! We have the flowers too!"

The man said, scrambling off his seat and quickly bringing a bowl of those flowers.

"When she used the flowers on her..."

White continued his story.

"She devoured every last one, and there were no more. There was a snowstorm, and she had been kind to me, so I offered to go fetch more of those flowers."

"When I came back..."

White paused, and the man watched as his fingers slowly clenched into a fist.

"What... happened after you came back?"

The man asked nervously, and there was a ten-second silence before White replied.

"She was eating her intestines."

He completed curtly, watching as the man jerked back in quiet fear.

At that moment, a sleepy voice echoed out.

"Who is that?"

Both men turned their heads toward the woman, who had now awakened.

She gazed at White, her eyes trailing toward the sword on his back, and when she saw it, fear appeared on her face as she grabbed onto the boy.

"Don’t... Please don’t kill my boy."