A child ran through the village streets, a small wooden airplane clutched in his hand.
He made soft engine noises with his mouth, weaving between houses as if he were flying through the open sky.
The village felt warm.
Lived in.
Peaceful.
People moved through their day with quiet purpose farmers harvesting wheat, others tending crops, neighbors helping one another without needing to be asked.
The rhythm of work was steady, familiar… something they had done all their lives.
The boy slowed, turning back as he raised the wooden plane toward his friends.
"Come on, let's play!"
From nearby, his mother glanced over, a gentle smile on her face as she hung damp clothes along a line.
"Be careful," she called. "Don't get hurt while you're playing."
"I won't, Mom!" the boy answered, already running off again, laughter trailing behind him as he disappeared down the path with the others.
In the distance the sound of cicadas filled the air.
A constant, high-pitched hum that blended into the quiet of the afternoon, rising and falling like a natural chorus hidden within the trees.
Farmers continued their work, unaware.
Sickles moved in smooth, practiced arcs, cutting through golden wheat.
Bundles were tied into stacks and lifted onto the backs of waiting donkeys.
Sweat and effort earned honestly, without complaint.
It was a perfect day.
Clear skies.
A gentle breeze.
A village alive with simple peace.
And nothing… yet…
to suggest it was about to end.
One of the farmers paused from his work, placing both hands on his hips as he tried to catch his breath.
He wiped the sweat from his forehead and glanced toward the trail that led into the village.
Then he noticed them.
Five figures, walking steadily toward the village.
They weren't rushing. They weren't lost. Their steps were calm… deliberate.
Four of them surrounded the one at the center.
The farmer frowned slightly. He didn't recognize them.
As they drew closer, their appearance became clearer.
The four were clad in dark, weathered plate armor, the metal dulled by time and countless battles.
Faint orange markings glowed along the seams of their armor, across their chest, their shields like embers trapped beneath iron, pulsing softly with something unnatural.
Over their armor hung torn surcoats, frayed at the edges, bearing a faded cross-like sigil that matched the emblem engraved on their shields.
Their helmets were fully enclosed, rounded in a medieval design with narrow eye slits.
From within those slits, a dim red glow burned, replacing human eyes with something far more unsettling.
It didn't feel like they were looking it felt like they were watching.
Each of them carried a longsword in their right hand, the blade angled downward in a resting position, and a broad, battle-worn shield in the other.
Their cloaks swayed lightly behind them, as if touched by a wind that wasn't there.
They didn't speak.
They didn't react.
They simply walked.
At the center was the fifth.
Unlike the others, he carried no weapon.
His hands were placed behind his back, his posture relaxed yet commanding.
Markings traced along his right shoulder and arm, sharper and more defined than the rest, marking him as someone above them.
By the time they reached the village square, people had begun to gather.
Curiosity.
Confusion.
The quiet hum of cicadas still filled the air, blending strangely with the growing tension.
The group stopped.
Perfectly in sync.
The man at the center stepped slightly forward and spoke, his voice calm and cold.
He said that this village would be destroyed.
For a moment, no one understood.
Then the murmurs began.
"What are you talking about…?" "What do you mean destroyed?" "Who are you people?"
The questions overlapped, voices rising, fear slowly creeping in.
The man didn't move he didn't react to the panic.
Then he raised his voice slightly not louder, but sharper.
He told them to be silent.
The noise stopped almost instantly.
He introduced them as the Pandemonium Legion and asked for the one in charge of the village to step forward.
After a brief hesitation, the village chief pushed his way through the crowd. He had just arrived, his expression tense but trying to remain composed.
He stepped forward and began to speak, saying that he was—
Before he could finish, it happened.
A sudden burst.
A sharp, concentrated release of fire compressed into a single point.
It struck instantly with no warning.
The chief's body dropped to the ground with a heavy thud.
Silence followed.
A small hole marked his forehead, smoke faintly rising from it.
No blade had been drawn, No arrow had been fired.
Just a single, precise use of magic.
The man at the center slowly lowered his hand, the faint heat around it fading as if nothing had happened.
The villagers stood frozen.
Fear had replaced confusion.
For a moment, no one moved.
Then the silence shattered.
Screams broke through the square as people turned and ran in every direction.
Mothers grabbed their children, pulling them close, fathers shouted for their families to stay together, and the calm rhythm of the village collapsed into panic.
"Run! Everyone run!"
"Take the kids—go!"
"Please—don't—!"
The four soldiers moved forward without hesitation.
One drove straight into the fleeing crowd, his shield slamming into bodies, sending people crashing to the ground.
Another stepped in with his blade, not swinging wildly, but striking with cold precision each movement controlled, each hit enough to stop anyone who tried to fight back.
A farmer rushed forward with his sickle, shouting, desperate.
"Get out of our village!"
He didn't make it two steps.
The Pandemonium Soldier stood there with precise aim, targeting the neck before slicing the head off, with blood splattering everywhere...
The chaos continues.
"No—! Please, stop!"
"Have mercy!"
"We didn't do anything!"
The leader remained where he stood.
Watching.
Unmoved, still in his position.
He lifted his hand slightly and bursts of fire shot forward in sharp, controlled blasts.
The ground exploded near a group trying to escape, forcing them back.
A wooden cart shattered, blocking another path.
Flames climbed quickly along rooftops, spreading from house to house.
Children cried out.
"Mom! Mom where are you?!"
"Dad—please help!"
A little boy stumbled as he ran, falling hard onto the dirt.
He looked up, tears blurring his vision as he reached out.
"Mom…!"
A soldier grabbed him by the arm, lifting him without effort and dragging him back.
"No! Let me go! Mom!"
His cries echoed, but no one came.
Chains rattled as more soldiers moved in.
Those who couldn't escape were forced down, wrists bound tightly.
"Please… I'll work, I'll do anything… just don't take my child—!"
A woman clung to her son, but a soldier tore them apart, dragging the boy away as she screamed.
Some still fought.
A group of men gathered, pushing forward together, trying to resist.
They didn't last.
The soldiers broke through them without slowing.
Fire spread.
Smoke filled the air.
The sound of crying, begging, shouting it all blended together into something unbearable.
And through it all the Pandemonium Legion continued.
Calm.
As if this had already been decided long before they arrived.
Inside one of the homes, a child hid in the corner, pressed tightly against the wall.
His small body trembled as he held onto his dog, arms wrapped around it for comfort, as if that alone could keep everything outside from reaching him.
The door burst open.
Wood splintered as it slammed against the wall.
A soldier stepped inside.
Slow, Unhurried.
The child froze.
His breathing caught in his throat.
The soldier's gaze locked onto him immediately.
No hesitation.
Metal shifted softly as the soldier drew his sword, the blade sliding free with a cold, final sound.
He began to walk forward, each step steady against the wooden floor.
The child tightened his grip around his dog, shaking.
"D-Doggie… no…"
The dog moved first.
It slipped from the boy's arms and stepped in front of him, placing itself between the child and the soldier.
Its body lowered slightly, barking sharply loud, desperate, protective.
A warning.
The soldier didn't stop.
He kept walking.
The dog barked again, louder this time, refusing to move.
Guarding.
Even as it tremble.
Behind it, the child could only watch, frozen in fear, his voice barely a whisper.
"Please…"
The dog growled low, then lunged forward, biting the soldier's armored arm.
"Please don't hurt him, please… he's all I have, I'll do anything, just stop, please…"
The soldier who getting bitten lunged his sword at the dog stomach.
The dog letting out loud whimpered, letting out weaken bark then soldier pulls his sword dropping the dog on the wooden floor with aloud thud.
The soldier looks over at the kid direction attention towards at him.
"Noo!" Kid cried, running toward his dog laying lifeless on the floor, crying.. "doggie.. Doggie.. pls.."
Kid was shaking the dog if it wakes up.. but didn't.
The soldier grab kid arm detained the kid with shackles he bring, pulling him outside like the other who kneeling and cry begging for mercy..
And the peace that once filled the village… was gone.