Moreover, within the guild, members were free to come and go, accept missions, submit materials, and exchange them for rewards—all entirely voluntary.
This loose structure instead suited the nature of most demon hunters, who prized independence and hated restraint. If it had been some secret society demanding loyalty and strict discipline, it would likely have aroused their resentment and suspicion instead.
For a time, demon hunter outposts everywhere buzzed with discussion.
"Morik Family? That ancient sorcerer family? What are they trying to do?"
"Enchanted weapons. If I could get my hands on a real one—one that can harm high-ranking demons..."
"Demonic power? Sounds dangerous. But if it's real, maybe I won't have to come away covered in wounds every time I face those damned Skinwalkers."
"There's no harm in taking a look. At the very least, it'd be another channel for getting resources and information."
Inside a bar, a scruffy middle-aged wandering priest drained the hard liquor in his hand in one gulp. Staring excitedly at the contents of the bar's notice board, he said to the people beside him, "Whether you're going or not, I'm damn well going!"
Clearly, this was a private little gathering place for demon hunters.
"Old Karon, aren't you worried it's fake? How could humans possibly control demonic power, especially without any side effects?" the bearded middle-aged man beside him asked.
The priest known as Old Karon poured himself another drink. He had once had a wife and daughter, but after his daughter was killed by a demon, he became a demon hunter midway through his life. Later, after discovering that prayer was useless, he stopped following the rules of the church.
At that moment, he said angrily, "Real or not, I have to try."
"You don't know this, but two days ago, I exorcised