Sorry for the late update, I will cover up for it.
----------------------------------------------------
The heroes returned to the Ka-Ran tribe in triumph, their faces streaked with dirt and pride. Their first battle had been won. Though it was against only a minor tribe of monsters, the people welcomed them as if they had felled gods. Fires roared in the village square, and drums echoed in rhythmic celebration. Children danced, the elderly wept, and the warriors drank deep from gourds of fermented honey.
Shinsui watched it all from the shadows beyond the light of the fire. His body, cloaked in a human form, leaned casually against a wooden pillar near the edge of the gathering. He looked more like a wanderer than a god—his silver eyes faintly glowing, his black cloak rustling softly with the breeze.
"They don't realize it," he muttered to himself, voice low, "but victory makes people blind."
The Ka-Ran chieftain, an old warrior named Haru, stepped forward to address the crowd. His voice rang clear, laced with pride. "Tonight, we celebrate the first victory of the Guardians! These brave souls faced the darkness—and triumphed!"
The crowd roared. The young heroes—Aran, Lio, Mira, and Toma—stood together, basking in the adoration. Mira laughed softly, brushing soot from her braided hair.
But Shinsui's gaze moved past them, toward the dark horizon beyond the village walls.
In the blackness, something stirred.
The Abyss, vast and unknowable, had begun to ripple in places it should have remained dormant. He had not opened the gates, nor had Gaia summoned her divine wrath. This... was different.
From the east, barely visible through the trees, a flicker of red eyes appeared. Then more. Dozens.
No—hundreds.
The Demon Tribe had begun to move.
Not the scattered remnants the heroes had defeated, but something more unified. Coordinated. The monsters, having witnessed the slaughter of their kin, had begun to evolve—organizing under a new leader born from hate and fear.
A horn sounded from the forest's edge. Not one blown by human hands.
Shinsui's eyes narrowed. "Too soon," he whispered.
The horde charged.
Flames, bright and terrible, erupted from the treeline. Shadows poured out like ink spilled across the land. The Ka-Ran celebrations turned to screams in seconds.
But the heroes were not asleep.
Toma was the first to react, summoning a wall of stone to block the advancing demons. Aran leapt onto it, sword already blazing with light as he slashed down the first creature. Mira's voice rang through the chaos, weaving wind and flame with her chants, pushing the demons back. Lio—calm and focused—took position at the back, healing the injured and supporting the others with shields of golden energy.
The battle raged.
Fangs clashed against steel. Claws met fire. Wings beat against earth.
The villagers fought as well, though most were untrained. Still, the unity of the Ka-Ran was powerful—and the presence of the heroes inspired them to stand firm.
Shinsui didn't move.
He stood on the edge, observing. His fingers twitched once, but he restrained himself. This was not his fight. Not yet.
The demon horde pressed hard—but they had underestimated something crucial.
These heroes, though young, were chosen by Gaia herself.
And they refused to fall.
It took hours, and the night stretched long and bloody, but eventually, the final screech of a demon was silenced beneath Aran's blade. The last monster fell with a gurgle, its body sizzling in the embers of Mira's fire.
Silence followed.
Then, slowly, cheers rose. The people cried, wounded but alive. The heroes, breathing heavily, stood among the fallen with eyes filled not with pride—but with grim understanding.
Victory had come at a cost. And this time, the monsters had come for them.
From the shadows, Shinsui turned and walked away, the faintest smirk on his lips.
"They're adapting," he said softly. "Let's see how far they go."