Artemis

The sun gradually sank toward the horizon, its orange-red afterglow spreading across the wheat fields and deepening the gold of the ripened heads.

Preparations in the village were nearly complete. Several wooden walls had been hastily erected on the northern side, near the woods, while the roads to the east and south were lined with sharpened barricades.

As for the shallow river to the west, the villagers had strung tripwires along the bank and placed carts filled with gravel across several spots where it was easy to ford.

Of course, these things could not truly stop the Demon Wolves. At most, they would slow them down a little.

But for a mage, a delay of a few seconds was sometimes enough to decide the outcome of a battle.

"Everyone is to return to the village after dark."

Zanze spoke to the villagers responsible for keeping watch on the western side:

"Do not leave the defensive line without seeing the signal. Even if you hear someone calling for help, first make sure they're human."

The village chief, standing nearby, froze for a moment.

"Do you mean the Demon Wolves can imitate human voices?"

"Demon Wolves can't."

Zanze answered.

"But whatever is commanding them might be able to."

The villagers' expressions grew even more tense. It looked like even if the Demon Wolf horde was dealt with, they probably would not dare venture out casually for the next few years.

"I'll get going, then."

Frieren said. Carrying her little suitcase and holding her staff, she walked toward the woods north of the village. Her expression was hardly any different from when she was traveling as usual. No, it would probably have been strange if she had looked grave and solemn. After all, the ones who could make her look like that were most likely great demons renowned throughout history.

"Then I'll head east."

Zanze turned around. Her long hair, which hung down to her feet, spread out, and several strands extended along the ground into the wheat field, soon disappearing among the rows of stalks.

Come to think of it, once the Demon Wolves arrived, would the hair she had laid out in advance rise straight out of the wheat field and neatly skewer them?

Lorenzo imagined the scene. If that really happened, perhaps after the Demon Wolf attack was over, he could egg Frieren on to call Zanze "the Impaler." If other people heard the legendary mage Frieren calling her that, the nickname might just stick to Zanze for good.

"Send a signal immediately if you notice anything unusual."

She reminded Lorenzo.

"Don't worry."

Zanze turned and headed east, soon disappearing at the end of the road.

With that, the three officially parted ways.

A young villager led Lorenzo to the southern side of the village, where there was an abandoned windmill. Two of its wooden blades had broken off, and the rest creaked in the wind after years without maintenance.

Withered yellow vines covered the tower's outer walls, and the wooden ladder leading to the top was so rotten that it looked as though the whole thing might break apart if someone stepped on it a little too hard.

Lorenzo stood below and studied it for a while.

"Can you really climb up there?"

The young villager guiding him also looked up at the windmill.

"Probably."

"Have you been up there?"

"No."

"Then why do you think I can?"

"I think I heard someone went up there before."

"When?"

"More than ten years ago."

Very reliable information. It made him wonder if the young man before him was really an elf in disguise.

Lorenzo raised a hand, and an invisible force lifted him directly to the platform at the top of the windmill. After all these days, he had more or less learned flight magic.

The young villager stood below, staring up in a daze for a few seconds.

"Magic sure is convenient."

"Head back to the village. Leave this place to me."

The young villager nodded. Before leaving, he looked back at the distant wheat fields.

"The wheat grew really well this year. We would have finished harvesting it all in three more days."

There was unmistakable reluctance in his voice.

"Don't worry. I'll do my best to keep those Demon Wolves from trampling it."

Lorenzo said.

The young villager looked up.

"Really?"

"I'm not like certain mages who go around blasting huge craters in the ground at the slightest provocation."

Although Frieren was not here right now, that did not stop Lorenzo from taking the opportunity to disparage her fighting style a little. Still, when it came to fighting styles, Zanze's really was the best for farmland. If the blood from the Demon Wolves she impaled went straight into nourishing the wheat fields, perhaps it would greatly improve the soil's fertility. But why did that sound more and more like something out of a horror story...?

The young villager clearly did not know whom he meant, but he nodded vigorously all the same.

"I'm counting on you."

With that, he hurried back to the village along the dirt road.

Lorenzo stood alone atop the windmill. He had to admit, the view was quite nice. It felt as though he could spend a fairly comfortable evening here if he spread out a blanket and brought some bread, cheese, and fruit wine.

From here, he had an almost unobstructed view of the wheat fields to the south.

The broad expanse of wheat swayed gently in the evening breeze. Several irrigation channels, like thin dark lines, divided the golden fields into plots of varying sizes. Farther away were patches of low shrubs and a road leading to the hills in the south.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

Lorenzo took out the alarm crystal Zanze had given him and placed it within easy reach.

The sky grew darker and darker, and lights came on in the village one after another. Lorenzo sat atop the windmill, quietly sensing the activity around him. The wind rustled softly through the heads of wheat, and the occasional chirp of an insect came from afar. Everything seemed perfectly normal.

But judging by the time, this brief period of peace should soon be coming to an end.

Lorenzo looked up.

Before long, the insects fell silent, as though something dangerous had entered the range of their senses.

He stood and swept his gaze over the southern wheat fields. The wheat farthest from the village suddenly began to sway gently. More and more signs of movement appeared among the stalks, as though a great number of beasts were crouching low and using the wheat as cover to approach the village.

Lorenzo narrowed his eyes. According to the information Zanze had provided, there were only a dozen or so Demon Wolves to the south, but the signs of movement now far exceeded that number.

Maybe fifty? Probably even more... But it didn't matter.

"Artemis."

Lorenzo summoned the hunting bow. Hunting beasts on a moonlit night was more fitting for a bow with its origins. Using it during the day always felt like something was missing.

And now night had fallen, a crescent moon hung above the wheat fields, and silvery moonlight spilled across the earth.

The moon, the wilderness, beasts, and a bow and arrows.

All the elements that belonged to Artemis seemed to have come together on this night.

There were three principal moon goddesses in ancient Greece: Phoebe of the new moon, Selene of the full moon, and Artemis of the crescent moon. In later Greek mythology, Artemis's importance was emphasized time and again, and she gradually supplanted the other moon goddesses, becoming the symbol of the moon in people's minds.

She was the eldest daughter of Zeus and Leto and Apollo's elder twin sister. According to legend, when Artemis was young, she took the initiative to ask her father for everything she wanted.

Eternal maidenhood, short garments suited to running through the mountains and wilderness, a bow and arrows, hunting dogs, a silver chariot drawn by divine deer, and mountains, forests, and city-states where she could roam freely.

By human standards, it was a rather long wish list, but Zeus ultimately granted every request.

That was probably what it meant to be the most favored daughter. If another deity had made so many demands at once, they might have received a thunderbolt from the sky instead of gifts.

From then on, Artemis became the mistress of the wilderness, mountains, and forests. She led nymphs through dense woods untouched by human feet and chased beasts beneath the moonlight, the silver bow in her hand never sparing the prey she chose.

She protected nature that had yet to be disturbed by humans and sheltered the animals that lived in the wilderness. But at the same time, she also held the right to hunt and kill those animals.

Protector and hunter—those two seemingly contradictory roles had never conflicted in Artemis.

For the wilderness belonged to her, and so did the beasts. Whether they were permitted to go on living was naturally hers to decide as well.

Lorenzo tightened his grip on the bow.

Moonlight fell upon Artemis, and its once-soft silvery glow suddenly grew distinct, as though the bow had only now truly awakened from a long slumber.

He raised the hunting bow and closed his eyes. Darkness completely obscured his vision, but the sounds from the hunting ground became clearer than ever at that moment.

The wind blew from the south, carrying the fresh scent of ripe wheat, the smell of soil and grass, and the mingled stench of beast fur, saliva, and blood.

Claws sank into soft earth, heavy bodies brushed against wheat stalks, and suppressed breathing hid within the sound of the wind...

The pack was spreading out.

Some advanced along the irrigation channels, trying to use the low ground to conceal their tracks. Others circled around from farther away, preparing to avoid the high ground where the windmill stood and approach the village directly.

"Found you."

Lorenzo opened his eyes. His gaze passed over the constantly swaying wheat and settled on a shadow at the point farthest from the village.

A Demon Wolf noticeably larger than its companions lay crouched there. It had not joined the charge, but a strand of unusual mana coiled around its forehead. Whenever the mana fluctuated, the wolves scattered throughout the wheat field changed direction at the same time.

It might not be the true commander, but it was certainly responsible for relaying orders.

In that case, it was only natural to hunt it down first.

Lorenzo placed his right hand on the bowstring. Pure white light gathered at his fingertips, gradually forming a slender arrow.

Lorenzo slowly drew the string, and Artemis's limbs bent with it. The moonlight falling all around seemed to be drawn by an invisible force, converging on the arrowhead.

The Demon Wolf in the wheat field seemed to sense the danger. It jerked its head up and looked toward the top of the windmill, but it was already too late.

Lorenzo released the string.

Thrum—

The bowstring rang with a clear vibration.

The silvery arrow left Artemis without a sound, tracing a clear path through the moonlight before piercing the Demon Wolf's left eye and emerging from the back of its head.

The enormous body shuddered violently, then collapsed limply into the depths of the wheat field. The unusual mana coiled around its forehead broke off as well.

The wolves advancing toward the village immediately fell into confusion, completely losing their formerly uniform coordination.

Now it was naturally time for an easy hunt. The picnic he had planned earlier, however, probably would not be possible. After all, no one wanted to eat beside a pile of corpses.