Chapter-45

 

The inn's dining hall buzzed with activity. Adventurers of all shapes and sizes fueled up for their day's exploits, plates piled high with sausages that looked suspiciously like they belonged to a particularly large boar, and pancakes that could have doubled as wagon wheels.

 

As they settled into a corner booth, a portly woman with a smile as warm as the freshly baked bread approached them. Her name tag, pinned crookedly to her apron, declared her to be Mildred, the innkeeper.

 

"New faces around here," Mildred boomed, her voice a cheerful bellow. "Must be adventurers, judging by the impressive… collection of mismatched weapons you've got there," she added, gesturing towards a rather haphazardly placed dagger and staff propped against the wall.

 

Roland, ever the smooth talker, cleared his throat. "Indeed, good madam," he said, his voice dripping with mock heroism. "We are here on a quest of utmost importance, a quest that will…"

 

He paused dramatically, glancing at Lilith for inspiration. Lilith, ever the pragmatist, deadpanned, "…involve a lot of walking and possibly some mild indigestion from those suspect-looking sausages."

 

Mildred chuckled, her ample frame shaking with mirth. "Well, that's certainly one way to put it, dearie." She winked at Lilith. "Now, what can I tempt you brave adventurers with today? We've got the aforementioned suspect sausages, pancakes that could double as shields, and enough stew to feed a small army… or perhaps just one very hungry demon lord in disguise?"

 

Roland choked on his nonexistent spit. Lilith, unable to contain her smile, doubled over. Mildred, oblivious to the subtle jab, simply beamed at them.

 

"Come now, young man," she patted Roland's arm with surprising strength for her size, "don't be shy! A growing demon lord needs his fuel." (She used demon lord term as joke.)

 

The breakfast that followed was a hilarious affair, punctuated by playful banter with Mildred and Roland's increasingly flustered attempts to maintain his disguise. As they left the inn, Lilith nudged Roland with a smirk.

 

"So," she teased, "enjoyed your little feline show this morning?"

 

Roland, a hint of pink still dusting his cheeks, simply rolled his eyes. "Perhaps," he admitted with a sigh, "certain creatures offer a more… strategic perspective than others."

 

The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows on the rough-hewn wooden beams of the inn room. Exhaustion etched lines on Roland's youthful disguise, a stark contrast to his usual vibrant energy. He slumped onto the worn but comfortable bed, the tremors from wielding his Sharingan throughout the day still echoing through him. Lilith watched him with a mix of concern and curiosity.

 

"Another day of… canine examinations," Lilith remarked, her voice laced with a hint of amusement that masked a deeper unease.

 

Roland grunted in response, his eyes already fluttering closed. While the day's activities hadn't involved physical exertion, the constant focus of his Sharingan had drained him mentally. Each stray dog they'd encountered seemed to hold a piece of the puzzle, a shard of information revealed through the Sharingan's crimson lens.

 

Lilith, ever the pragmatist, couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't adding up. Chasing down strays and inspecting them with his newfound eye felt like a strange prelude to their mission of revamping the Den of Nightmares. 

 

The morning sun peeked through the shutters, painting golden stripes across the room. Lilith stretched, the rhythmic creak of the floorboards a familiar morning symphony. Roland, however, remained burrowed under the worn blankets, an uncharacteristic stillness radiating from him. 

 

Lilith, a hint of concern etching lines on her brow, nudged him gently. "Rise and shine, Demon Lord," she teased. "Another day of… canine observations awaits."

 

Roland stirred, a groan escaping his lips. He sat up, fatigue clinging to him like a shroud. "Another day," he echoed, his voice a low rumble.

 

They descended the stairs, the aroma of freshly baked bread and sizzling sausages filling the air. Mildred, the innkeeper, greeted them with a frown, her usual warm smile replaced by a shadow of worry. Her eyes, usually sparkling with amusement, held a hint of anxiety.

 

"Morning, adventurers!" Mildred boomed, her voice lacking its usual cheer. "Something's amiss with my feline companions, that's for sure."

 

Lilith raised an eyebrow. "Your cats? What's wrong?"

 

"Acting strange," Mildred muttered, her face creased with worry. "They're skittish, restless… and the worst part?" She lowered her voice, her gaze flickering to the doorway. "They're being attacked by the dogs!"

 

A wave of surprise washed over Lilith. The dogs were now attacking cats? 

 

"The dogs?" Roland echoed, a flicker of something akin to curiosity flickering in his eyes. "But… yesterday, they seemed placid."

 

Mildred shook her head, a worried sigh escaping her lips. "Aye, that they were. Calm as you please all day. But as soon as they see one of my cats, it's like a switch flips. They turn into rabid beasts, fangs bared, chasing the poor creatures around the yard."

 

This new information sent a jolt through Lilith. The seemingly unrelated quests – examining dogs and Roland's strange focus on cats he'd observed earlier – were starting to feel less random and more like pieces of a puzzle. Perhaps, she thought, this sudden canine aggression towards Mildred's cats was somehow connected. 

 

"Can you describe the attacks?" Roland's voice cut through her thoughts, his tone laced with a newfound urgency. He leaned forward, his gaze fixed intently on Mildred. 

 

Mildred, surprised by the sudden intensity in his voice, stammered slightly. "Well, it's like… a frenzy. They bark and snap, chase the cats with a ferocity I've never seen before. It's… unnatural."

 

Roland's expression remained unreadable, but a hint of a gleam seemed to flicker across his disguised face. 

 

Concern etched lines on Roland's youthful face as he listened to Mildred's tale.  "Lock your cats indoors, Mildred," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "For their own safety."

 

Mildred blinked, surprised by the urgency in his voice. "But they need their freedom, lad. They can't be cooped up all day."

 

"Trust me," Roland insisted, his gaze holding a hidden intensity. "It's the only way to keep them safe for now."

 

Lilith, intrigued by the sudden shift in Roland's demeanor, leaned closer. "What's going on, Roland?" she murmured, her voice barely a whisper.

 

Roland met her gaze, his disguised eyes holding a flicker of urgency. "Remember those dogs we've been examining?" he asked, his voice low. 

 

"Yes," Lilith replied, her brow furrowing in thought. "But what does that have to do with Mildred's cats?"

 

"Everything," Roland said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "The dogs we encountered, the ones with the strange green glow in their eyes… they weren't just infected. They were carriers."

 

Lilith's breath hitched. "Carriers of what?"

 

A sudden realization dawned on Lilith. "And that's why you were so interested in the cats yesterday," she breathed.

 

Roland nodded, a grim smile playing on his lips. "Cats, with their keen senses and heightened awareness, are the first to detect these disruptions. Their unusual behavior, their skittishness – it's a sign of the anomaly at work."

 

The pieces clicked into place for Lilith. The seemingly random events – the infected dogs, Roland's strange focus on cats, and now the dog attacks on Mildred's cats – were all connected. 

 

"So, what do we do?" Lilith asked. 

 

"We use this to our advantage," Roland said, a glint of steel returning to his disguised eyes