Infinite Mana Exorcist
Chapter 50: Bonus - : Planning

Chapter 50: Bonus Chapter: Planning

The way was cold, senile, and filled with nothing but wilderness. The rough dirt road was barely visible under the dim glow of the moon, which flickered between thick clouds as if hesitating to cast its light upon the path ahead. The trees that lined the way were old, twisted, and gnarled, their bare branches reaching out like skeletal hands, shuddering under the weight of the howling wind. The air smelled of damp earth and distant rain, warning them of an impending storm.

That was why they chose to make a quick stop at the closest village, seeking temporary shelter from the relentless night. Their bodies ached, their wounds still fresh from the brutal encounter they had barely survived.

But another, more urgent reason led them to seek an inn—the sudden downpour that began just as they reached the village’s outskirts. The rain struck with merciless force, pounding against the rooftops and flooding the narrow streets within minutes. It was as if the sky itself had decided to weep, drenching them in cold misery.

So, without hesitation, they rented rooms for each of them to sleep in, knowing they wouldn’t last long if they remained outside in such conditions.

During all this time, Asher remained unconscious. His body had given in to exhaustion long before they arrived, and it had taken both Logan and Fey to carry him through the rain-drenched streets. His weight, though not excessive, felt heavier with every step they took, as if the burden of his injuries seeped into their own bones.

They carried him up the creaky wooden stairs of the inn and placed him into his room, ensuring that his wounds were checked and tended to before leaving him to rest. Only after confirming that he was stable did they move on to their own needs.

Finally, after ensuring Asher’s condition wouldn’t worsen, Logan sat in the dimly lit main room of the inn, watching as Fey tended to his own wounds. The common room smelled of damp wood and old ale, its air heavy with the murmurs of other travelers seeking shelter for the night. A fire crackled weakly in the hearth, offering little warmth to the cold that had seeped into their bones.

Fey, despite the severity of his injuries, barely winced as he patched himself up. Of all of them, his wounds were the worst, yet he masked his pain behind a hardened expression.

Logan watched him with an unimpressed look before shaking his head.

"Why are you proving to be strong?" Logan’s voice carried a rare softness, as if he was weary of the masks they all had to wear. "It’s just me and you right here, no need to be like that."

Fey exhaled slowly, his fingers pausing over the fresh wound on his arm. He considered Logan’s words, his thoughts briefly drifting before he let out a quiet sigh.

"To understand pain, you have to know pain." His voice was low, firm, yet tinged with something almost distant. "You might not be able to see what I mean, but if such a minor attack shakes me this much, then I can’t achieve my goal."

Logan frowned, his brows drawing together. He didn’t press further—he already knew Fey wouldn’t elaborate. He had no idea what goal Fey was talking about, but one thing was clear—whatever it was, it had pushed him past the point of caring about his own suffering.

Still, Logan’s thoughts wandered back to the bigger issue at hand. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the ridges of a deep cut on his palm.

"Looks like we failed to extract information about the mutation of Night Terrors." His voice held a tired edge, frustration barely concealed beneath his words. "So what’s the next ride for Asher?"

Fey shook his head, his expression unreadable. He had no idea what Asher’s next move would be, nor how things would unfold from here. The situation was growing more dangerous by the day, and they were treading on uncertain ground.

"Asher will surely have a plan." It was the only reply he could give with certainty.

---

Meanwhile, at the Exorcist Kingdom...

The grand halls of the Exorcist Kingdom’s council chamber were eerily silent, the flickering torches casting long shadows upon the stone walls. At the head of the chamber, seated upon a throne adorned with intricate carvings of ancient symbols, was Queen Melissa.

Her silver hair was tied back in an elegant braid, her sharp violet eyes scanning the room with an intensity that made even the bravest of warriors uneasy. The leaders of the other clans had gathered before her, their faces grim, their expressions heavy with concern.

The air was thick with tension. The attacks had increased—monsters were growing more aggressive, more unpredictable. And the unsettling reports of Night Terrors mutating into something even more dangerous had reached her ears.

A man with a scarred face and golden eyes, the leader of the Hallowed Fang Clan, was the first to speak. His deep voice echoed against the stone walls.

"The balance has shifted." He spoke with the weight of a man who had seen too much. "The creatures that lurk in the dark no longer fear the light. They are changing—adapting."

Melissa’s fingers tightened slightly on the armrest of her throne, though her expression remained unreadable. She had suspected as much, but hearing it confirmed only deepened the pit in her stomach.

"We have already lost three outposts to these new abominations," another voice cut in—this time, it was Lady Veyna of the Ashen Dagger Clan. Her amber eyes burned with frustration. "If this continues, we will be forced to retreat further into our borders. We cannot fight a battle where the enemy keeps evolving faster than we can counter."

A heavy silence followed her words, the weight of the situation pressing down on them all.

Finally, Melissa spoke, her voice steady, yet laced with an unshakable resolve.

"We cannot afford to retreat." Her words were like steel, firm and unwavering. "If we step back now, we lose the very ground we stand upon. These monsters—these Night Terrors—are not the only ones who can evolve."

The room remained silent, but the flicker of determination in her gaze was enough to reignite the fire in those around her.

She turned to her right, where a young knight stood at attention.

"Send word to our scouts. I want every detail on these mutations. No matter how small, no matter how insignificant it may seem—I want it reported."

The knight bowed deeply before rushing off to carry out her command.

Melissa then turned back to the clan leaders, her piercing gaze sweeping across the room.

"We will not let this kingdom fall. The darkness rises, but we will rise with it."

Her words rang with finality, and one by one, the clan leaders nodded.