The night swallowed the village, leaving only the moon as a pale witness to the destruction. Its faint glow illuminated charred houses and abandoned bodies, while the wind carried the smell of smoke and blood.
In the midst of the ruins, hoarse laughter from drunken soldiers mixed with the groans of the wounded.
Colin blended into the shadows, his black cloak swaying slightly with each cautious step. The soldiers were drunker than usual, stumbling in their own boots, voices slurred by alcohol.
Perfect.
His golden eyes gleamed as he approached the hostage cage. Two careless guards chatted with their backs turned, empty bottles rolling on the ground.
Pathetic, he thought, fingers tightening on the dagger's hilt. They won't even feel death coming.
One step. Two.
The first soldier didn't even notice the blade sliding across his throat. He tried to scream, but only a wet gurgle escaped before he fell to his knees, hands futilely trying to staunch the red gush. The second turned, just in time to see Colin's eyes before the dagger plunged under his jaw, piercing his brain.
Then, silence.
Colin scanned the area, listening beyond the drunken snores in the distance. Nothing.
The cage was full of hungry, bruised faces that flinched as he approached. A quick, silent gesture, and the lock shattered under the dagger's impact. The door creaked open.
"Get out now!" he whispered. "Go through the forest to the north. Stay off the roads. If you hear anything, run."
The hostages filed out, stepping around the corpses with wide eyes. All except one.
In the corner, a chained man lay unconscious, his face swollen with bruises. Colin knelt, shaking him hard.
"Hey! Are you alive?"
The man woke with a start, eyes white with panic. Colin's hand covered his mouth just in time to muffle a scream.
"If you want to live, stay quiet."
A thread of electric mana coursed through the dagger, and the chains snapped with a crackle.
"Can you walk?"
The man rubbed his freed wrists, breathing deeply.
"I… I was a soldier. If you need help with the commander—"
"I don't need it." Colin reached into his pocket, pulling out a carved silver pendant. "Your children are waiting for you in the forest. Go."
The man gasped upon seeing the pendant, fingers trembling as he took it.
"They… they're alive?"
Colin didn't answer. He just nodded as the ex-soldier dragged himself away, staggering like a ghost among the ruins.
He watched from afar as three brutes surrounded a group of girls huddled against a broken cart. One of them was bleeding from the lip, eyes swollen from crying.
Last survivors... time to end this.
His muscles tensed as mana began to course through his body, blue sparks dancing between his fingers like angry fireflies.
Thud!
The boom echoed like thunder, a signal Safira needed.
Three heads flew before the soldiers realized death was upon them. Jets of blood painted the pale faces of the girls, who only had time to see a black shadow emerging from the darkness, a dagger dripping red, and yellow eyes that shone with a wolf's hunger.
"Run! Forest, now!" Colin growled.
They fled like cornered rabbits, torn dresses fluttering.
On the other side of the camp, soldiers playing cards with blood-stained coins stood up so fast they overturned the table.
"Son of a b—"
BOOM!
Safira's fireball engulfed the group, turning bodies into charred meat puppets.
The survivors, too drunk to coordinate movements, stumbled in ill-fitting armor. Some pissed themselves when they saw Colin dancing among them, his dagger stitching throats like a needle through soft fabric.
Until—
CLANG!
A mana-infused spear nearly pierced his kidneys. Colin skidded on the wet earth, boots digging into the ground.
The blond Lieutenant emerged from the smoke, chest marked with war scars, and picked up another spear from a corpse.
"You're useless!" he yelled, orange mana enveloping the weapon. "The rats fled to the forest! CUT THEM DOWN!"
The soldiers regrouped, but Colin no longer saw them.
His world narrowed to the half-naked man yawning beside the lieutenant, rubbing the back of his neck as if it were all just a boring drill.
"A dark elf?" the Commander spat on the ground, picking up a rusty sword. "After my merchandise, are you?"
The Lieutenant stepped forward.
"Leave him to me, boss."
"No." The Commander stretched his arms like a cat. "I need to warm up. This one will be fun."
Colin felt the first cold sweat bead trickle down.
"He sized me up just by looking..."
The ordinary sword seemed an extension of the Commander's body as he made an experimental strike, the air hissing like a serpent.
"You can see it… he's not some amateur bandit, he knows what he's doing. I can understand that now because I'm stronger too!"
"Scared, boy?" he laughed, teeth glinting in the firelight. "Good. I'll teach you the price of messing with what's mine."
Colin's response was a smile that made even the veteran hesitate.
In the shadows, the Commander thought quickly:
Where's Cubhishy? And that idiot messenger? Did this elf kill them alone? I see… I need to be careful...
◊❱───────⸂◍⸃───────❰◊
On the other side of the village, people entered the woods, meeting Safira and Yamillya who assisted them.
"This way! Follow my voice!"
Her thin arms guided children with soot-stained faces, elders leaning on pieces of wood like makeshift crutches. Until, amidst the rain-soaked crowd, she saw him.
A tall man, his face marked by bruises and exhaustion, but still standing, a rusty sword in hand as he helped a woman up.
"Dad?" The word escaped her lips like a stolen breath. "DAD!"
The cry tore through the air before she realized she was running. The hardened warrior, who had endured hours of torture in silence, let out a choked sound as his daughter threw herself into his arms.
"I prayed... prayed so hard..." Yamillya buried her face in his chest, tears mixing with the rain.
The man's calloused hands trembled as he held his daughter. "Me too, my flower. Every day, I asked the gods to protect you, you and your brother..."
The moment was interrupted by Safira's shout:
"Yamillya! Guide them to Brighid, now!"
The mage was already in position, the magic circle in her hands spitting a fireball that engulfed three approaching soldiers.
The explosion lit up the night.
BOOM!
"Go!" Safira yelled, her hair flying with the impact.
"Go with them!" Yamillya's father pushed his daughter back, drawing his sword.
"I don't need help, go with her!" Safira said. "If any soldier gets past me... you protect them, understand?"
The warrior understood with a nod. He grabbed his daughter's hand and they disappeared into the forest, leaving Safira alone in the rain.
Right… it's my turn to protect people, isn't it? I can do this!
It was then that she felt it before she saw it.
Another fireball cut through the night, colliding with hers in an explosion that shook the ground.
BOOM!
When the flames dissipated, there he was: the Lieutenant, gleaming spear in hand, a dozen soldiers behind him.
"Another pyromaniac?" He smiled, sharpening the spear on the ground. "My lucky day. Spread out, idiots! The girl is mine."
Safira felt cold sweat trickle down her back, but she remembered the lessons:
Posture. Breath. Control.
Mimicking Colin, she stretched her lips into a frightening smile.
"This will be fun, right?" she lied, as the soldiers ran into the forest.
The rain fell harder now, washing the blood from the ground, extinguishing the surrounding flames. Alone against the Lieutenant, Safira whispered to herself:
"First time against a strong human... Don't fuck this up now, Safira."
The spear glowed with orange mana, and she prepared her next spell.