Werther looked around. There shouldn't be anyone left alive.
But something was strange. He hadn't seen any children or old people in the village. Apart from Milly, everyone had been a young adult.
He checked the surrounding buildings, too. They showed clear signs of habitation, which only puzzled him further.
Just then, Werther sensed someone creeping up outside. The newcomer saw the carnage in the village, let out a startled cry, and fled.
But after only a few steps, he stumbled and fell, apparently terrified by the sight.
Werther walked over and found a teenage boy staring up at him in horror.
"W-who are you? What happened here?"
Werther was surprised. The boy was completely different from the Indigenous People. He had neither their strange aura nor the peculiar growth on his chest.
"Hm? Aren't you a resident of this island?"
The boy looked extremely nervous, and his words came out in fits and starts.
"No. I don't live on the island. We happened to come here. We're with the Odin Trading Company."
"The Odin Trading Company? Never heard of it. How much do you know about this island?"
Werther studied the boy. His ragged clothes and sallow face suggested he had been living on the island for some time, and not comfortably.
"I don't know much about it either. We only arrived yesterday."
The boy appeared calm, but he spoke unusually fast.
Werther had a feeling he was lying. Fear tended to make people stammer, but many people spoke faster when they lied, as though speed could make their words sound more convincing.
"Oh? You only got here yesterday? If you don't know anything about this place, you can die here."
Werther stared at him coldly. One more wrong word, and he would add another mangled corpse to the