Even with such a powerful punch, the man turned his face back and stared at the young man again. Suddenly, he began to guffaw loudly as his nose bled from the impact.
Flior looked incredulously at the scene and, as he was about to speak, was abruptly cut off by another dry thud, but this time it came from behind.
— We're screwed... — said the attendant.
When Flior turned to check where the sound came from, that woman was standing behind him and very close. Her furious, amber-colored eyes stared right into the young man's soul. She was slightly taller than him, but her posture already showed a certain dominance. Her face, previously covered by magnificent long, black, wavy hair, was now clearly visible. It was a well-defined face; her eyebrows were thick and a striking black. Her gaze was like that of a feline, wild and dangerous. Her nose was a little larger than conventional, but it only enhanced her unique beauty. It was the face of a warrior, not a delicate maiden. The woman had a scar almost in the same place as Flior's wound.
— Commander, it wasn't my fault! This kid came here saying he was looking for Almantis... — the attendant's voice was abruptly cut off by an assertive, firm, and strong female voice.
— Silence, Thimothius, I heard everything. You, young man, should be ashamed to say you are one of them. All of them were killed by the Monarch's command. You claim to be Flior, the fragile; if you are indeed him, you will be taken with me to Najiri to be executed.
— Dead? Why? In all the years I was in Covak, we never went against the empire, we never broke any of the primordial laws. So why, why were they executed? — Flior said, looking at his trembling hands. His voice came out low and melancholic — I was never popular there, you know? I was always pushed aside, never seen or helped by anyone. But still, deep inside, I felt that sense of belonging, even if it was false; now I don't even have that anymore. You took the only thing I had: a purpose, a name, a family.
The woman then smiled.
— You are certainly the one they call "The Fragile." I doubt any being, even with a sick psyche, would have such audacity to claim to be part of the Covak group. So much sadness shown for mere mercenaries' deaths; you yourself said you were segregated. — the woman looked directly into Flior's eyes, which became even more opaque, and continued to speak — you want to feel a sense of belonging, so be it. You will be taken as a trophy, "The Last Living Reaper," and thus, you will become a slave for your entire life. Don't even dare to say you prefer death; my decision is law.
The woman cut eye contact with Flior and headed towards the establishment's exit. Before leaving completely, without turning back, she said:
— Thimothius, you are free from your punishment! We will depart immediately for Najiri, so grab the young man, tie him up, and make him kneel outside here. If he is Flior, I must explain the current situation in Haile, at least a part of it. Don't make me wait too long.
Immediately, Thimothius, who had been silent throughout the conversation between Flior and the commander, acted. He leaped over the counter with astonishing speed and surprised Flior, who was still looking at the woman. Thimothius grabbed the young man's arms, pulled them behind him, and tied his wrists with a thick rope. Then, he took a part of the rope to lead Flior like a dog.
The young man stood there, tied and without reaction. It was his first day as a Reaper, an elite mercenary, feared for his precision in service. Now he was there, with no contract finished, no purpose, no family, or life. He could fight; he had the strength to fight, but fight for what reason? He had nothing left. So he just consented with his head bowed to what was happening as Thimothius led him out of that place.
Outside the establishment, Flior saw various soldiers emerging from the houses in that village. The armor they wore was characteristic of the empire. Heavy armor, made of a resistant and malleable metal alloy. This alloy was dyed black and outlined with a brilliant crimson. This armor had golden shoulder pads, made of gold. In the center of the chest plate was the empire's symbol: an open hand with a sun in its center. All the armors were very well adorned, but each had its own peculiarity, some extra gold details or some trinkets scattered across the metal plates.
Flior was confused; he hadn't seen any of that upon arriving at the village, and the houses seemed to show no sign of life apart from the tavern. Then, his thought was abruptly interrupted. Thimothius, who was leading him, simply pushed him, throwing him next to the commander.
The young man fell, his face hitting the firm, rocky ground of the village. The cut that had closed was open again. The bloodstain that had previously been dark, now regained a more vivid color.
Then, somewhat disoriented, Flior knelt, trying to understand what the woman wanted to show. The commander grabbed Flior by the hair and then crouched down, placing her lips close to the young man's left ear.
— Since you were trapped in the cavern for a while, I will do you the favor of explaining what is happening in Haile... It's a beautiful village, isn't it, Flior, the fragile? It's a shame it will succumb to the flames... a simple price to pay for treason. A civil war broke out a few months ago; some of the leaders behind the great cities turned against Najiri's dominion, created factions, groups, and brotherhoods to confront the Monarch, but as you will see, there is a small reason why Najiri is the most prosperous and ancient city in Haile. There is a reason why the Monarch's lineage has prevailed for centuries... You, my dear little dog, will see with your own eyes — the commander then released Flior, stood up, and prepared to speak to everyone there.
Before the commander began to speak, Flior noticed that many of those soldiers were forcibly pulling villagers from their homes. Children, women, and elders were knocked unconscious with punches if they didn't obey the soldiers' commands. Some of the men shouted, tried to intervene, but it wasn't enough; the soldiers were on another level of power.
As Flior observed what was happening, the commander began to speak:
— To those who raised their hands against the empire, the one who provided safety and sustenance for ages. To those who were not content with the Monarch's kindness. Know that what will happen here is not evil, but justice. Your actions will have consequences, people of Kestis, and here I am, Leonor D'Lart, to bring the due justice.
— You, don't call me that... that label doesn't belong to me. — said Flior as he stood up and looked directly into Leonor's eyes.
She showed an expression of surprise and then smiled. Flior, who was fixing his eyes on hers, began to smell something different: smoke. He broke eye contact with Leonor, looked back at that grotesque scene, and saw something worse. The houses made of rock and wood were catching fire. The soldiers made the villagers gather in one place... just like the houses, these villagers were also catching fire. But there were no screams or despair. The flames instantly carbonized those fragile people. A quick death? Perhaps, but deserved? Never.
— H-how? I didn't hear screams, I didn't hear crying, I didn't hear despair. This fire, these flames feeding on the wood of the houses and the bodies, where did it come from?
— This, Flior, is just a small trick that the Monarch's power allows us to do. From now on, you will see the impossible being done before you. Not only will flames emerge from the void, but you will also see the world unfold at our will...
Flior, looking at those people being consumed by the flames, seeing the soldiers enjoying themselves as they witnessed that horrible scene, seeing the entire village crumble before him, looked at the woman. He tried to understand her calmness during what had happened, tried to speak, but his face was frozen in an expression of horror.
Welcome, Flior, welcome back to hell.