The rhythmic canter of their horses set a steady pace through the dark landscape, yet Julien's mind was anything but at ease; The sinister gleam of eyes watching from the shadows kept him on edge. "Those creatures spying on us," he called out to Arnau over the sound of hooves, "are they Elioud?"

"Yes," Arnau responded, his voice cutting through the night air with a tone of seasoned experience, "they're too weak to pose a threat to us directly, however."

Julien's brow furrowed in confusion: "Then why aren't we pursuing them? Isn't that our purpose?" He shouted back.

Arnau's reply came with the clarity of a man who had long since come to terms with the limitations of their fight: "If we stopped to confront every single Elioud we encountered," he explained, "we'd soon find ourselves overwhelmed. Their numbers are vast, and they are ever-present. Our mission is to focus on those that pose a significant threat to God’s creation, like the ones in Pratdip."

Julien absorbed this new perspective, his gaze returning to the path ahead. The realization that their battle against the Elioud was as much about choosing their fights as it was about engaging in them was an oddly sobering thought.

As they continued their ride southward, the journey remained largely uneventful, yet Julien's mind was far from idle. He noticed a gradual change in the landscape and the architecture of the villages they passed. Each one bore a resemblance to the village where he had first encountered Gregorio, stirring a blend of curiosity and dread in Julien: The details of that fateful night and the subsequent journey back to Omois, remained shrouded in a frustrating haze, but the feeling could not be shaken off…

The path they followed soon led them to the outskirts of a small, dimly lit village. As they approached, Julien observed that the buildings, while bearing some unique characteristics, were not drastically different from those in the northern regions. "Are we really entering Islamic territory?" he asked, his tone reflecting his confusion.

The village's architecture, while having subtle hints of a different cultural influence, still retained elements familiar to Julien: This fusion of styles must suggest a complex history of coexistence and cultural exchange, typical of border regions where different worlds met and mingled, he assumed.

"Yes, we are indeed in Islamic territory, Julien Mazars," Arnau affirmed, his voice carrying a note of assurance. He brought his horse to a brief halt, lifting his gaze to the star-filled sky. "It's just past midnight, right on schedule," he observed, a hint of satisfaction in his tone. "Welcome to Pratdip!"

As they resumed their journey into the heart of the village, Julien felt a growing sense of unease: The quiet streets of Pratdip, bathed in the moon's pale light, were devoid of life and activity; Julien had expected the late hour to bring a quiet atmosphere, but the complete absence of any signs of life was unsettling! The silence was profound, broken only by the soft clatter of their horses' hooves on the rustic cobblestone streets. Julien scanned the darkened houses, searching for any flicker of light or movement, but found none. The absence of even a solitary drunkard or a stray beam of light from a window lent an almost ghostly quality to the village.

This pervasive stillness and darkness seemed to cloak Pratdip in an air of mystery. For Julien, the experience was almost surreal, as if they had stepped into a different realm where time and life were momentarily suspended. The silence that had enveloped them since entering Pratdip was finally broken by Arnau's voice. "Alright, Julien Mazars, your training has been about understanding your hagic energy. Now, it's time to learn the actual task at hand – how to hunt." His tone was once again instructive. As they reached the village center, Arnau made a sharp left turn, leading them down a narrower street. Julien followed closely, attentive to every word: "Step 1," he continued, "is to always seek out a place of worship, be it a church, monastery, mosque, or synagogue. They are aware of our mission and are bound to offer us shelter and resources."

Julien's mind flashed back to their stop at the cathedral in Clermont with Gregorio. He recalled the warm reception and the assistance they had received, a memory that now took on new significance. "And why exactly is that?" He inquired, seeking to understand the deeper connection between their mission and these religious sanctuaries.

"We are literally doing God's work, my friend," Arnau responded, with pride in his voice, "when you consider our purpose, it only makes sense that these places of faith would support us. It sounds just right that part of their duty is to aid those who fight darkness on behalf of the divine, right?"
The idea that their mission was intertwined with the responsibilities of religious institutions offered a new, reinvigorating perspective: It was a reminder that Julien’s role as an Enochian was not just a solitary battle against evil, but part of a larger, divinely ordained struggle.

The structure they approached was modest, its stone and wood facade blending seamlessly with the surrounding buildings of the village. "The local imam lives here," Arnau noted as he began to dismount, "let's see what insights he can offer us about the situation here, and perhaps even enjoy a refreshing cup of water, why not."

The imam, an elderly man with a welcoming demeanor, opened the door shortly after Arnau's knock. He ushered them inside with an efficient hospitality, quickly lighting a candle to dispel the darkness. Leading them to a rustic table adorned with simple yet elegant decorations, he promptly served four glasses of water.

As Arnau and the imam engaged in conversation, Julien found himself adrift in the unfamiliar Arabic lexicon; The language was entirely foreign to him, its fluid sounds and rhythms beyond his comprehension. He sat quietly, his thoughts turning to the interior of the house: The room was adorned with items unlike any he had seen before, each artifact a window into a culture and a way of life he knew little about. Julien's curiosity was truly piqued by these unfamiliar decorations, his gaze always wandering around the room. However, he soon noticed the imam's discomfort with his inquisitive looks; Sensing that his curiosity might be perceived as intrusive, Julien quickly redirected his attention back to Arnau and the imam, respecting the boundaries of his host's home.

As they stepped out into the cool night air, leaving the warmth of the imam's house behind, Julien felt a sense of relief: Patiently waiting while not understanding a single word of the conversation was starting to deeply bother him. They mounted their horses once again, the familiar sensation of the saddle a welcome return to action.

"So, to give you the gist of it," Arnau began as they started to ride away from the imam's residence, "this area has long been known for wolf attacks, but recently, they've taken a turn for the worse. The attacks are more brutal, more frequent."

Julien, considering Arnau's words, nodded in understanding. "Starving wolves can indeed be dangerous," he observed, his voice carrying a hint of concern, "but what sets these attacks apart from normal predatory behavior?"

Arnau's response carried a weight that made the night air feel even heavier: "These aren't just attacks; they're massacres," he said, his voice tinged with a grim seriousness, "the wolves – or whatever they are – aren’t just feeding. They are savagely mutilating their victims. There was even an incident where a young child was found, his entire left side horrifically torn away; The precision of the wounds suggested something with extraordinarily sharp teeth, yet no one witnessed the creature responsible."

He let out a sigh, one that seemed to carry the burden of all the unseen horrors they were sworn to combat: "I may not be an expert in the natural order of things, Julien Mazars, but I'm fairly certain that invisible, gigantic dogs capable of such feats aren't a common occurrence in these parts."

The description of the violence inflicted upon the villagers, especially the child, sent a shiver down Julien's spine: It was a brutal reminder of the stakes of their mission. They were not merely tracking down a rogue pack of wolves; they were facing a manifestation of pure evil, an Elioud with a capacity for destruction that was both frightening and unfathomable.

Julien, steadying his nerves in the face of the unsettling details, focused on the task at hand: "Alright, so what's our next move?" he asked, his voice steady despite the undercurrent of anxiety.

Arnau nodded, acknowledging Julien's readiness: "Well," he began, outlining their strategy, "we've already completed step 2 — gathering information and profiling the creatures. And that's thanks to our conversation with the imam. Now, we move on to step 3 — locating and eliminating the threat. But it seems fortune is on our side tonight, from a certain perspective."

Julien's confusion was evident. "And why is that?"

Arnau's response was accompanied by a small, almost rueful smile: "Because these attacks are happening every night. It's a predictable pattern," he explained, locking eyes with Julien to emphasize the gravity of the situation, "our plan, for now, is rather simple: we head to the edge of the town, towards the forest where these creatures emerge, and we wait."

As they approached the town's periphery, the dense forest loomed before them, a dark and foreboding boundary, the night seemingly deepening around them. Julien felt a mix of anticipation and apprehension; they were about to confront the very heart of the darkness that had gripped Pratdip. Dismounting near the forest's edge, Arnau lit two torches, handing one to Julien. The flickering flames cast an eerie glow, casting long shadows that danced with the trees. "Oh, and by the way," Arnau added casually, "you should consider learning Arabic. Latin may serve you well in the north, but the further you go south, it might be as useful as barking. Language is a tool, my friend, and in our line of work, we need every advantage we can get."

Arnau’s advice resonated with Julien, highlighting the importance of adaptability and understanding in their mission. As an Enochian, he was not just a warrior against darkness but also a traveler through diverse lands and cultures; The ability to communicate in Arabic could be crucial in future endeavors, after all.

The stillness of the night was broken only by the crackling of their torches, casting a feeble glow against the pervasive darkness. Julien and Arnau stood vigilant, the silence around them almost oppressive. The village lay shrouded in shadow, their torches the sole sources of light in the enveloping blackness.

Suddenly, the eerie quiet was shattered by the sound of howls and growls echoing from the dark horizon. The noises were not just loud and ferocious; they carried a haunting, almost otherworldly quality that set Julien's nerves on edge. Each howl sent a fresh wave of shivers down his spine.

Feeling the tension rising, Julien turned to Arnau, seeking guidance for the imminent confrontation: "Any advice for the upcoming fight?" he asked, his voice steady despite the growing apprehension.

Arnau, his focus sharpening, drew his sword with a practiced ease. "Julien Mazars," he began, his eyes fixed on the dark treeline, "have you ever played chess?"