The information hit Noah like a ball of ice water.
Kelyss—the adventurer who’d joined his beetle hunting, who’d been genuinely excited about his products, who’d promised to return to his shop...was dead.
She was supposed to come back. She was interested in buying more supplies.
"She was at the front of our group when the extremists attacked. We were lucky to escape as an Adept mage saved us before we were also killed."
The man’s voice carried survivor’s guilt mixed with exhaustion. His companions stood silent, their expressions confirming details too painful to repeat.
Extremists. The same bastards who attacked me and Lola.
"Why are you telling me this now?"
The question came out harsher than Noah intended, but shock was making coherent conversation difficult.
Kelyss had been alive, optimistic, and planning future hunting expeditions. Now she was gone.
"If you want to attend her funeral... It’s today... in about two hours. Her family is hosting it at the Memorial Grove in the eastern district."
Two hours. She’s been dead for a day, and the funeral is in two hours.
The group departed without further conversation, leaving Noah standing alone among beetle corpses with information that refused to process properly.
She’s dead. Actually dead.
Someone he’d talked to, hunted with, sold products to—gone. Not injured, not missing, but permanently erased from existence.
I was expecting her to visit the shop again...
Extremist attacks were escalating. The safe zones weren’t as secure as advertised. Anyone venturing beyond the city walls risked the same fate that had claimed Kelyss.
Two hours until the funeral. Do I even belong there?
Noah stared at his bloodied sword, thinking about someone who’d never get the chance to upgrade her equipment again.
Some lessons about mortality arrived without warning.
This was definitely one of them.
Noah stayed at the crimson mountains for an extra hour, pushing his combat capabilities to new heights. His newest personal record emerged from raw determination, fighting seven beetles simultaneously without sustaining injury.
Seven at once. Not bad.
The notification marked another milestone in his rapidly developing combat prowess. Each encounter refined his understanding of how superhuman capabilities translated into practical battlefield effectiveness.
Another group of demons approached as he cleaned his blade. The same trio he’d encountered during his early first hunting day, when slimes had seemed challenging and beetles represented genuine danger.
"Impressive progress," their leader called out, genuine admiration replacing the casual encouragement they’d offered two days ago.
"Seven beetles without taking damage? Most fighters struggle with that many."
"Your improvement rate is remarkable," added the female member, studying his technique with interest.
"What’s your training regimen?"
Noah accepted their compliments with a smile.
"Just practice," he replied, keeping his explanation deliberately simple.
"Consistency matters more than talent."
The group nodded with understanding.
They departed with respectful farewells, leaving Noah alone with his thoughts.
Time to pay respects to someone who deserved better.
The eastern district revealed itself as Sin City’s most solemn quarter as Noah approached the Memorial Grove.
The trees created natural cathedral spaces where demon families gathered to honour their departed. Soft lighting filtered through leaves that seemed to absorb sound, creating a quiet atmosphere.
Kelyss’s funeral had drawn a larger crowd than Noah expected. Fellow adventurers mingled with family members were also adventurers just like Kelyss.
She had more friends than I realised. More people’ll miss her.
A simple stone platform occupied the grove’s centre, surrounded by flowering shrubs that added colour without overwhelming the space’s natural dignity. Kelyss lay upon the platform, her adventuring gear arranged beside her with obvious care.
They dressed her in her hunting clothes.
Noah positioned himself at the gathering’s edge, uncertain about his place among people who’d known Kelyss far longer than he did. But grief seemed to transcend social boundaries here—everyone present shared the commonality of loss.
The sun began its descent toward the horizon, painting everything in golden hues. An elderly demon with ceremonial robes stepped forward, his presence commanding immediate attention.
"We gather as the day surrenders to night," he began, his voice carrying across the grove without stopping.
"To honor Kelyss Drakemere, daughter of adventure, seeker of challenge, friend to many."
This is the demon’s formal ceremony. Traditional words for an ancient ritual.
"In life, she walked the paths between safety and danger, choosing courage over comfort. Her spirit knew no boundaries, her heart embraced both friendship and solitude."
The officiant’s words painted pictures of someone Noah had only briefly encountered but whose character apparently touched many lives.
Her friends nodded with recognition while family members wiped away tears.
She made an impression. Even in our short interaction, I could see her passion.
"Kelyss chose the hunter’s path, knowing its risks, embracing its rewards. Death found her as she lived, facing forward, protecting others, refusing to yield to fear."
The ceremony continued with personal remembrances.
Fellow hunters shared stories of successful expeditions, narrow escapes, moments of courage that defined Kelyss’s approach to life.
Each tale added depth to Noah’s understanding of someone he’d known only briefly.
It would’ve been nice had I gotten the chance to know her better.
As twilight deepened, the officiant raised his hands toward the darkening sky.
"We commit Kelyss Drakemere to the earth that nurtured her strength, the air that carried her dreams, the fire that burned within her spirit. May her journey continue beyond the boundaries of this realm."
"May the gates of heaven welcome one who lived without compromise. May her courage inspire those who follow. May her memory remind us that some paths are worth walking despite their dangers."
The gathering responded with unified voices:
"May she find peace in the eternal hunt."
Its a cultural tradition. Everyone knows the response.
Family members began covering Kelyss with earth while her hunting companions placed flowers around the burial site.
This is how demons honor their dead. With acknowledgment of choice, celebration of courage, acceptance of consequence.
Noah remained until the last few mourners departed, watching stars emerge overhead while contemplating mortality that could strike without warning.
Noah walked to the store through the streets that felt different now—not just locations for business and adventure, but places where people lived finite lives that could end without notice.