A band of 200 bandits had surrounded the village. In the kingdom's outskirts, bandits were generally divided into two categories: small groups and large ones. The smaller groups typically ambushed travelers, raided trade caravans, and kidnapped people.
The larger ones, however, were more organized. They controlled the smaller bands and carried out raids on villages with low populations—looting goods, capturing people, and selling them to slave traders.
The group that attacked our village was a faction under one of the larger bandit organizations.
Among them were 5 first-tier mages, 104 first-tier and 32 second-tier swordsmen, totaling 136 sword-wielders. There were also 10 martial arts practitioners. The rest were ordinary thugs—once farmers, now turned bandits with no particular talent.
The village had around 500 residents, including women, children, the elderly, and the sick. But only a few could actually fight: Edward, a second-tier swordsman; Paul, the village chief and a first-tier martial artist; and Elias, who secretly possessed magical abilities—though his young age was a major drawback.
In the dead of night, when even the wind seemed to sleep, the silence was shattered by a rain of fiery arrows. Chaos replaced peace.
The bandits stormed the houses, killing anyone who resisted, pillaging everything in sight, and especially targeting women and children to take as captives.
Paul was fighting off three attackers on his own. But after five minutes, a fourth one came from behind and crushed his skull with an axe.
Edward, meanwhile, had warned Clara and Elias not to leave the house. Then he picked up the twin blades from his days as a knight. Despite his hesitation, he knew his duty was to protect these people—as a former warrior, he could not turn his back.
He rushed toward the enemy, swiftly taking down two men. With a spin on one leg, he cut down three more.
But then the nightmare returned. He was struck in the back of his left calf. Limping in pain, he dragged himself behind a large rock and began bandaging his wound.
Inside their home, Elias and Clara sat in a dark room with the lights out. Clara was visibly frightened, holding back tears. Elias remained silent, his eyes fixed on the door.
Suddenly, four or five bandits barged in. Clara feared they would find them—but there was no escape, and fear would not save them. Elias must have been terrified too.
She looked at the child she had once found in the forest and taken in. She couldn't see his face clearly, but she assumed he was scared. She held his hand.
"Mom is here, okay?" she whispered, wiping her tears. "Don't worry, nothing bad will happen. Just listen to me."
Then, hiding Elias under the bed, Clara stepped out with a knife and lunged at the bandits. A large, fat man with long hair grabbed her wrist swiftly, causing her to drop the blade.
"Well, well, Hector! Found ourselves a woman," said one of the bandits with a deep voice.
"Careful, we need her intact," the other replied.
"Let me go! You bastards! Let go of me!"
"My, my. Such vulgar words don't suit a lady."
Their voices faded as they dragged her away. Elias crawled out from under the bed, taking cautious steps toward the door.
What he saw was horrifying—homes ablaze, bandits like wild beasts attacking villagers, screaming and chaos, bodies strewn across the ground, blood everywhere.
Thinking his father would save his mother, Elias looked around for Edward—but he couldn't find him. He assumed the worst.
"F-Father? Where are you? No... no!" Elias dropped to his knees, grabbing the bloodied grass with trembling hands. Dirt covered his palms. Tears fell from his eyes as he looked down—then slowly raised his gaze, now cold and empty, toward the direction his mother was taken.
"I'll kill them all. I have to save my mother."
He stood and dashed after her.
The boy's bare feet were stained red with the blood and mud of others as he ran. His breath grew heavier, his heartbeat louder. Yet he felt no fear. Only rage. An icy, unrelenting rage.
He reached a barn where the bandits were keeping the captives. Several tied-up women were crying. And in the middle, Clara.
She was bruised, her dress torn, struggling against the ropes. One of the bandits—Hedric—grabbed her hair, pulling her up roughly.
"Help!" she cried. "No! Let me go!"
Elias watched from the shadows. His fists clenched so tightly that his nails pierced his skin. A drop of blood trickled down his palm, and with it, something awakened inside him.
His breath became visible. Not from cold—but from power. A strange blue mist seeped from his skin, and his eyes turned pitch-black.
Without a word, he stepped out into the open.
The bandits turned.
"What the—? A kid?"
"Where did you come from, runt?"
Elias raised his hand slowly—and the air twisted. The ground beneath their feet cracked as if something ancient had stirred.
Suddenly, a piercing screech echoed from the sky.
The barn's roof shattered as a massive shadow descended. A creature—shapeless, smoky, with glowing red eyes—landed behind Elias. It didn't touch the ground, but hovered, pulsing like a heart of darkness.
The bandits froze.
"What the hell is that?!"
Clara stared, wide-eyed.
"Elias...?"
The boy looked straight at Hedric.
"You won't touch her again."
The creature behind him let out a roar—one that shattered the windows, cracked the walls, and shook the earth itself. With a flick of Elias's wrist, the beast lunged forward.
Screams filled the night.
The creature tore through the bandits like paper. Blood sprayed across the barn. One tried to run—only to be pulled back into the darkness by a clawed tendril.
The last one tried to strike Elias—but his sword melted before it touched him.
With one final scream, the barn was silenced.
The mist vanished.
Elias collapsed.
Clara ran to him, hugging his small body as tears rolled down her face.
Edward appeared at the barn's entrance, limping but alive. His eyes widened as he saw the carnage.
"What happened here...?" he muttered.
He looked at Elias, unconscious in Clara's arms, and then at the dismembered bandits and the shattered barn.
Just one question echoed in his mind.
"Who... is he?"
. There was a contemptuous expression on Elias' face as he approached Edward.Then he said:
"You will still wait there like a coward...
My father"