Frieren: Understand Humans, Aura!

The beast roamed along the edge of the village, spotted by many villagers.

It moved with unnerving speed, its long, slender limbs propelling it like the wind—faster than an arrow could fly. Its broad paws, tipped with claws sharper than knives, crushed rocks effortlessly as it prowled, its movements both graceful and brutal.

The creature's piercing green eyes, scanned the village from the shadows of the dense forest. It did not act immediately. Instead, it circled the outskirts, waiting, watching, and assessing its prey.

The beast, with its large but somewhat dull mind, considered its options. The alluring aura that had drawn it here was unreachable, but could it perhaps satisfy itself by eating the two-legged creatures tainted by that same aura?

After all, these creatures were so close to the source of that irresistible scent. If it couldn't destroy the unknown object emitting the aura, surely these frail, puny beings were within its grasp.

Slash—

Just as the beast crossed a pebble-lined stream, its paw raised mid-step, a purple silhouette descended from the sky.

Thud!

A massive axe cleaved into the beast's head, drawing blood in an instant.

The beast was stunned. It instinctively tried to raise its head to see its attacker, but a sudden, heavier blow pressed down.

Boom!

The second strike of the axe was even stronger than the first. The dull blade, now more like a hammer, smashed into the beast's skull, forcing it to collapse onto the ground.

Boom! Boom! Boom!—Thud! Thud!

The sound of relentless strikes echoed through the forest. Aura swung the axe again and again, her purple eyes blazing with an otherworldly ferocity. Each strike drove the creature further into the earth, its skull cracking under the sheer weight of her blows.

The beast's struggles ceased, but Aura didn't stop.

Squelch! Squelch! Squelch!

The dull, rhythmic thuds gave way to the grotesque sound of flesh being torn apart. Blood soaked the ground beneath her, mixing with the stream's water to create a dark, viscous pool.

Finally, with one last swing, the axe lodged itself deep into the beast's now-unrecognizable head. Aura released the weapon, letting it fall with a heavy thud.

Without hesitation, she plunged her hands into the creature's shattered skull, pulling apart bone and sinew to expose the gelatinous, pale gray matter within. Her teeth sank into the brain, tearing off chunks with unrestrained vigor.

"The axe blade is dull now," Sasha said, approaching from the direction of the village, She bent down, struggling to lift the old, battered axe from the ground. Her fingers ran along its corroded, weathered surface, still stained with blood despite being washed by the stream.

"This was left behind by the bandits back then. Brings back memories," she said softly.

Aura didn't respond. She was too busy ripping apart the beast's brain, pulling out fistfuls of soft, gelatinous tissue and devouring it with a savage intensity. Blood coated her hands, her mouth, and even her horns as she worked, unbothered by the mess.

Sasha sighed, standing and brushing dirt off her knees. "You really don't have to do this, you know," she said, her voice tinged with quiet exasperation. "Didn't I tell you? We can handle the village matters ourselves now. You don't need to keep stepping in."

"Aura…"

"Master Aura?"

Sasha called out several times before Aura finally responded, her movements sluggish as though dragging herself out of her focus. She turned, her face smeared with blood.

Her teeth parted as she spat out a chunk of brain matter—white streaked with crimson—that landed with a splat onto her palm. She held it out, the offering glistening under the faint light filtering through the forest canopy.

"Sasha, want some?" Aura asked casually, her voice tinged with an innocence.

"No, thank you," Sasha replied quickly, swallowing hard. She had grown used to Aura's strange habits, but some things still made her stomach churn.

Aura tilted her head, her expression as unbothered as ever. "It was getting too close to the village."

"I know," Sasha said, her voice softening. She studied Aura's face, expecting some trace of smugness or pride, but all she saw was an almost childlike confusion—as if she couldn't comprehend why Sasha wasn't applauding her efforts.

Looking at Aura's bewildered expression, Sasha felt her frustration ebb away. Scolding her would be pointless.

Before she could say anything more, a high-pitched voice broke through the forest.

"Hey! Don't go over there!"

Sasha turned sharply toward the sound. A boy, no older than six, had wandered out from the village, his small feet kicking up dirt as he ran toward them. His curious eyes were wide, eager to see the source of the commotion.

"Stay back!" Sasha called, her tone firmer now. She quickly stepped forward, scooping the child up in her arms before he could see the carnage. His small hands reached out, trying to peek over her shoulder, but Sasha turned her body to shield him from the sight of Aura—bloodied, feral, and surrounded by the mutilated remains of the beast.

"Let's not look, alright?" she said gently, brushing the boy's hair back with one hand as she carried him away. "It's not something children should see."

The boy pouted but eventually relented, burying his face in her shoulder. Sasha sighed, glancing back at Aura, who was now crouched over the beast's carcass again, tearing into its side with her bare hands.

Which family's child is it this time, slipping away unnoticed while Master Aura is feasting on live prey?

After ensuring the boy was safely on his way back to the village with another adult, Sasha returned to the clearing, her brows furrowed with concern.

"Master Aura," she said firmly, crossing her arms as she approached. "Next time there's a monster or bandits, leave it to us to handle."

Aura didn't even look up. "But you're not ready yet," she said, her voice muffled as she sank her teeth into another piece of the beast.

"We are ready," Sasha insisted, her tone sharper now.

"Hmm," Aura responded, her focus still on her meal.

"I mean it," Sasha pressed on. "The villagers and I have been preparing for months. We've got spears, traps, ropes, chains—everything we need to subdue a large beast."

"Hmm."

"We can handle it ourselves."

"Hmm."

"It's dangerous for you to keep rushing here every time something happens!"

"Hmm."

"…Sigh."

Sasha let out a long, weary sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. She knew that no matter how much she argued, Aura wouldn't listen. This wasn't the first time they'd had this conversation, and it wouldn't be the last.

Aura was always like this. She'd agree to everything with a simple hum, never arguing back. Yet, when the next monster or bandit attack came, she'd still show up.

It wasn't that Sasha or the villagers didn't appreciate Aura's help.

It was just… Sasha was afraid. The villagers were afraid. Everyone was afraid that Aura's constant appearances would one day draw the attention of outsiders.

A horned demon, capable of killing massive beasts in an instant, was too strong and too dangerous a presence for the human kingdoms to overlook.

Whenever invaders entered the village with weapons or hostility, Aura would leave no survivors, consuming them completely until only bones remained.

If her existence were exposed, it wasn't hard to imagine powerful kingdoms sending armies or elite mages to hunt her down. Armies that wouldn't stop until every trace of Aura—and likely the entire village that shielded her—was wiped from existence.

Sasha could already picture it: the sound of soldiers marching in formation, the glint of steel weapons catching the sunlight, war mages casting spells that would obliterate homes and fields alike. And when that day came, no matter how fiercely the villagers fought, no matter how clever their traps or how sharp their spears, there would be no protecting Aura.

Aura didn't need their protection, of course. She was powerful enough to crush entire squads of human warriors. But even she had limits. Even she couldn't stand against the combined might of the human kingdoms—not indefinitely.

So, all Sasha and the villagers could do was try their best to keep her existence hidden—just like they hid that holy sword buried in the cave at the heart of their land.

But hiding a demon, especially one like Aura, was nothing like hiding a sword. No matter how hard they tried, that horns on Aura's head—the undeniable mark of her demon nature—would eventually be exposed.

Sasha sighed deeply, the weight of her worries pressing down on her chest. She had no choice but to keep trying.

The truth was, she couldn't control Aura.

Though Sasha was the closest to her in the village—the only one Aura ever really spoke to—Aura listened only when it suited her. In Sasha's eyes, Aura was like a wildcat. She'd catch a mouse from time to time and drop it at your feet, as if to say, Look. See what I've done for you. But her version of kindness was inscrutable, even alien. She didn't understand what kind of kindness humans could accept, nor did she care to learn.

Aura gave on her own terms and left just as quickly, indifferent to whether her gestures were appreciated.

Of course, whenever Sasha tried to show kindness to Aura in return, it was always rejected outright.

Aura was a loner. She had no desire to be part of the village in any meaningful sense.

But wasn't that true of most demons?

After directing the villagers to dismantle the traps and gather the weapons prepared for the beast, Sasha turned back to Aura. She was crouched on the carcass, finishing her meal, her hands and mouth smeared with blood.

"Master Aura," Sasha began carefully, softening her tone as much as possible, "would you like to come into the village and eat something with the others?"

"No."

Aura licked the blood from her fingers, her teeth glinting. Her ears twitched as though catching some distant sound, and before Sasha could say more, she bolted, disappearing into the forest in a blur of movement.

Sasha stood there for a moment.

'Was she… afraid of the sword?'

Her gaze shifted toward the village, where the Holy Sword lay hidden in its stone prison. The villagers had built their homes around it, never daring to venture too close to the cave that housed it. 

Aura never spoke of it directly, but Sasha had noticed how she avoided the cave. How her steps faltered when she wandered too near. If she feared the sword so much, why did she insist on staying in this village? Why go so far as to protect it?

Sasha shook her head. There was no point in trying to understand Aura's motives.

Once Aura was gone, Sasha turned her attention back to the villagers. The beast Aura had killed was massive, easily the size of a small house. Though grotesque, it was a rare gift. Meat was scarce in the village, and they couldn't afford to waste it.

"Let's get to work," Sasha called out, clapping her hands to gather the others.

A group of villagers armed with knives approached the carcass, their faces grim but determined. Before they began butchering it, they gathered in a circle around the beast, holding hands and bowing their heads.

"O great goddess of harvest," one of them intoned, their voice trembling with reverence, "and her divine envoy, Lady Aura, who watches over us and protects us from harm—thank you for this blessing. May we honor it and sustain our lives with your guidance."

The others echoed the prayer, their voices rising in unison. Then, with a sense of solemnity, they began carving the beast.

Sasha stayed behind to oversee the process, directing the distribution of the meat.

"That cut from the abdomen—leave it aside. I'll cure it into smoked meat and bring it to Master Aura later."

"Village Chief Sasha," one of the women asked, wiping her brow, "are you sure she'll even eat it? Wouldn't she prefer something fresher?"

"She's picky," Sasha admitted, sighing. "Even when she's not hungry, she'll go off into the woods and… play with the animals there."

"Play?" The woman raised an eyebrow.

Sasha smirked faintly. "She doesn't care much for food that doesn't bleed."

"How cruel…"

"Isn't it?"

"But also kind of cute," another villager chimed in.

"True," Sasha agreed with a nod. Aura was, in her own way, cute. Her aloofness, her sharp tongue, even her cruelty—there was something endearing about it all.

And yet—

Sasha's smile faded as her gaze drifted toward the horizon.

She couldn't help but worry. Their cruel but adorable goddess might one day be taken from them.

And when that day came, there would be nothing they could do to stop it.