Re:Crafting in Another World
Chapter 38: Hunting for Devil

Chapter 38: Hunting for Devil

Maron stepped out of his house, the cool evening breeze ruffling his uniform. Beside him walked a fellow knight, clad in the same standard-issue armor. Maron reached into his pocket and pulled out a small glass vial filled with dark crimson liquid, handing it to the knight.

"Take this to the capital’s knight order," Maron instructed. "Have them investigate it immediately."

The knight took the vial with a puzzled expression. "Sir Maron, what is this?"

Maron smiled faintly. "The blood of a creature. There’s a devil lurking in this barony. I need to know its true identity before it slips into hiding. Keep this a secret."

The knight hesitated. "Shouldn’t we alert the citizens? Or at least inform the Baron? If this is a devil, wouldn’t they be in danger?"

Maron’s expression darkened. "I have no interest in letting the Baron take credit for this. Just like every time I save the miners, he acts as if it were his doing. This time, I will handle it my way."

The knight sighed and nodded. "Understood, Sir Maron. Whatever you say."

As the knight left, a small pair of arms suddenly wrapped around Maron’s waist from behind. A giggle followed. "Daddy!"

Maron turned and smiled, ruffling his daughter’s hair. "There you are, my little troublemaker."

His wife approached, her elegant dress swaying as she walked. "Dear, will you be home early tonight? Remember, we have dinner reservations in the noble district for our daughter’s birthday."

Maron nodded. "I’ll be back in time. Just make sure to keep the doors locked. Something dangerous is lurking around."

His wife frowned. "You always say that."

"And I’m always right," he replied before mounting his horse and riding off towards the Baron’s mansion.

As Maron rode, his mind raced with thoughts. He clenched his jaw. "Should I arrest Shennong?" he murmured to himself. "No, I must. If something happens to the Baron or Baroness, my entire reason for being here will be pointless."

Maron despised the Baron, a man who only cared about wealth while neglecting his people. But still, if the Baron fell, nobles from the capital would fight over this land, and given how rich the territory was, a war could break out. Maron wasn’t about to let that happen.

As he approached the mansion, his sharp eyes caught sight of the balcony. There stood Lady Cassandra, engaged in cheerful conversation. But the man standing next to her sent a shiver down Maron’s spine.

Shennong.

Maron’s grip on his reins tightened. Shennong noticed him and, for the briefest moment, his face changed. His once pleasant expression turned grim, his eyes dark and knowing. Without Cassandra noticing, Shennong raised his hand and pointed directly at Maron, making a slow, deliberate gesture.

He was coming down.

Maron exhaled sharply. "He’s not even bothering to hide it anymore. I need to act now."

With determination, he marched into the mansion, but before he could take a step further, a figure blocked his path.

The Baron.

"Where are you going, Sir Maron?" the Baron asked, his tone casual yet firm.

Maron squared his shoulders. "Milord, there is a man in this mansion, posing as a mere servant, but he is dangerous. We must restrain him immediately."

The Baron’s expression remained neutral. "Oh? That’s concerning." He paused before suddenly changing the topic. "Did you take care of the miners’ collapse problem? I asked you to handle that."

Maron’s brows furrowed. "Milord, I’m telling you—"

"How many soldiers will you be taking with you to resolve the mine situation?" the Baron interrupted.

Maron stiffened. Something was off. He narrowed his eyes at the Baron, then turned slightly, glancing up at the balcony.

Lady Cassandra and Shennong were gone.

Realization hit him like a thunderclap.

"It’s too late," he whispered.

Without another word, Maron turned and stormed out of the mansion. He had no time to argue. If Shennong was truly what he suspected, then he needed to gather his soldiers immediately. This wasn’t just about a hidden threat anymore. This was war.

Maron stormed into the barracks, his heavy boots echoing against the wooden floor. The soldiers inside looked up, some pausing in their tasks, others barely sparing him a glance.

"Everyone, this is the orders of your commander! Gather at once!" Maron commanded, his deep voice cutting through the murmurs.

But instead of the immediate obedience he was used to, the soldiers hesitated. Some shifted uncomfortably, while others outright ignored him. One of the higher-ranking officers, Captain Yuren, stepped forward with a frown.

"Apologies, Sir Maron, but we have orders from Baron Percival himself," Yuren said firmly. "We’re to move to the mines immediately."

Maron’s fists clenched. "The mines? That makes no damn sense! There’s something going on, and I need every available soldier here. Do you not see the danger? Are you going to ignore my commands?"

A few soldiers exchanged wary glances, but most remained silent. Respect for the chain of command ran deep, and Baron Percival stood at the very top.

Maron took a deep breath, then roared, "Listen to me! Something is wrong! I don’t care what orders you’ve received—this town, our people, they’re in danger! If you’re true soldiers, if you care about this city, you’ll follow me now!"

A handful of soldiers stirred at his words. Finally, a few of them, including a younger recruit named Joren, stepped forward. "I trust you, Sir. Count me in."

"Me too," said another, a seasoned soldier named Rolf.

One by one, a small group of about ten soldiers joined him. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.

Maron nodded. "Then let’s go. We have a traitor to arrest."

They arrived at the Baron’s mansion, only to be met with a stone-faced guard at the gates. The guards shifted uneasily at the sight of Maron and his armed men, but they did not move aside.

"Step aside," Maron ordered. "I’m here to arrest a servant in this mansion. This is immediate military action."

The lead guard shook his head. "Shennong already left. And the Baron has given strict orders not to be disturbed. We can’t let you in."

Maron’s jaw tightened. "Damn it."

One of his men, Rolf, looked at him expectantly. "What now, Sir?"

Maron exhaled sharply. "We need to request reinforcements from the capital. If something’s going on, we can’t handle it alone. Until then, patrol the city and ensure the citizens’ safety. I’ll return home for now."

His pride and desire to prove himself to the capital that sent him here were not greater than his care for the safety of the people in the barony and his own family.

The others nodded, though unease lingered in the air. Maron turned on his heel, setting off towards his house. But his gut twisted with unease, and the hairs on his arms stood on end.

Something was very, very wrong.

As Maron neared his house, a chill crawled down his spine. The door stood slightly open, a sight that sent ice through his veins.

His hand instinctively went to his sword as he stepped forward cautiously. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, the same eerie sensation creeping over him as when he had investigated that gruesome murder of some adventurers a few nights ago.

He rushed inside.

"Elise!" he called out, fear gripping his chest.

Inside, in the warmly lit dining room, his wife sat at the table, smiling and laughing softly. But it was who she was speaking to that made Maron freeze in place.

Shennong.

The same man whom Maron was hoping to arrest. The same man that was under suspicion of sneaking into the city and causing the death of few adventurers.

That man lounged at the table, an easy smirk on his lips as he swirled a fancy mug of water in his hand. The moment Maron entered, Shennong’s gaze flickered to him, his smirk deepening.

Maron’s instincts screamed at him. Without hesitation, he reached for his sword, his body moving on instinct to strike the man down.

But Shennong raised a hand calmly. "Now, now, let’s not be rash, Sir Maron," he said smoothly. "I believe you have a birthday dinner to attend, don’t you? I wouldn’t dare to spoil the surprise but at least your wife ought to know."

Maron’s grip tightened around his weapon. "Get away from my wife."

Elise blinked in confusion. "Maron? What’s wrong? Isn’t he the event organizer you hired to throw a small banquet for our daughter?"

Shennong sighed theatrically. "Oh dear, it seems your husband is quite the forgetful one, Lady Elise. I merely came here on his request."

"You lie!" Maron spat. "I know what you are, Shennong. You have no business here."

"No business?" Shennong chuckled, standing slowly. "I beg to differ. You see, I have a lot of business here including the one you had with one of my people."

Shennong suddenly took a vial out of his pocket, containing a clear liquid. At first, Maron was confused upon seeing it, but his face turned pale when he noticed his wife drinking her drink—and that half of the vial Shennong was holding was already empty.

"Let’s discuss things. We need to ensure that Sir Maron’s daughter’s birthday remains wholesome and happy, and I hope it stays that way."

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