Two Hours Earlier
Clickly-clop. Clip-clop.
"Scout A, Scout B—report." Philip glanced to his right, halting his steed with a commanding tug of the reins.
Swsssh. Swsssh.
Dust exploded in miniature clouds as two figures cloaked in brown coats and hoods appeared, seemingly out of thin air. Daggers lined their waists and boots like metallic teeth.
The scouts dropped to one knee, fists crossed to their chests. Scout B spoke first, his tone clipped and reverent.
"Sir. Demon village spotted—one hour's ride east of here, Sir." He rose, extending an arm to point toward several medium-sized mountains looming in the distance.
"Estimated size: Class 3 village, Sir."
Village classes were a universal scale of settlement size—used for villages, towns, cities, even kingdoms. Class 10 being the highest.
Philip, holy knight and master of the longbow, widened his eyes for a flicker of a second—then steadied himself, voice rumbling low.
"Hrm. Quite large for a nest of lowly demons… No doubt it was once a human village. Vermin… I'll avenge the innocents lost!" He spat, glaring toward the peaks. With a narrow squint, mana surged into his pupils—sharpening vision to unnatural precision. A grin curled on his lips.
"I've found you."
---
"Sirus! We need to warn the village! Get everyone ready!" The village chief voice rang out as they sprinted across the village. Sirus broke off, racing toward his home.
Bang!
The front door slammed open. Sasha and Ethan turned in alarm, eyes wide as their son stood in the doorway, panting, one hand gripping the frame.
"Mother… Father…" Sirus heaved a breath. "An army's coming. A human army."
Silence.
Terror painted Sasha's face as her knees gave out beneath her. She covered her mouth with trembling fingers as tears welled.
Ethan rushed to steady her, then turned sharply to Sirus.
"Does the village chief know?"
"He does. He's rallying the villagers now." Sirus was already gone, the door slamming shut behind him.
'Why?' his thoughts burned as he ran. 'Why are they here? Is hatred all they know? Do they crave slaughter that badly?'
His mana surged—a storm of anger and betrayal rippling through his veins.
'They steal. They rape. They burn. And they call us demons? Monsters in human skin! They ruin everything they touch!'
He ran faster, vision blurring. Rage boiled. Then—he stumbled. Mud and dust clung to his cloak as he hit the earth.
"I won't let them hurt my family," he growled, dragging himself up.
Around him, villagers surged to life—men arming themselves, women and children fleeing toward the forests.
"You five! Wood and wagons—barricade the front!" the village chief barked. "Hunters! Arm yourselves, give extras to the others. Frontline, now!"
"Yes, Chief!" the crowd roared back.
"I've lived nearly 500 years," the chief muttered, eyes scanning the horizon. "I won't let some self-righteous humans destroy what we've built."
Then he saw Sirus, approaching fast.
"Sirus? You should be evacuating with your parents!" he said, crouching down with concern.
"I—I want to help! I love this place. Just like everyone else—"
The chief cut him off, gripping his shoulders firmly.
"This isn't a game, Sirus! You're smart—you know what this means. I admire your spirit, but you must go. Protect your parents. That's how you help." Without waiting for a response, the chief turned and stormed toward the defenses.
Sirus trembled, fists clenched tight enough to bleed. "Fuck!" he hissed. "I'm supposed to stand by while they die?!"
Then he saw it—a bow. Arrows glinting nearby.
Nineteen. More than enough.
"I've killed before," he muttered, snatching it. "This is no different."
He moved like a shadow, skirting the preparations unnoticed, returning to the ridge he'd stood on earlier. Sunlight gleamed on his back. His eyes locked toward the horizon.
---
"Where is Sirus?"
"He went to warn the other villages. He'll be fine—for now we must evacuate," Ethan said, voice shaking.
"No—I won't leave my son!" Sasha broke free, running outside before Ethan could stop her.
"Sasha, wait! Shit!"
…
"Teleportation a blessing. Without it, we'd still be months away." Philip said, glancing at the silent knight riding beside him.
Kane only nodded. "I suppose so."
"Tsk. So dull." Philip rolled his eyes, then turned to the troops behind him—armored men, mages, and killers all.
"Men! Prepare to cleanse this filth! Wizards—once in range, raze the village to ash! Scouts—no runners. And find the demon with high mana levels. He is our priority target."
"For the glory of Bergen!" the soldiers cried.
Philip sneered. He glanced again at Kane, voice sharp as steel.
"You know what to do, don't you, Kane?"
"...Do we have to kill the innocents—"
"They are not innocent!" Philip roared, veins bulging. "You will do your duty! Every. Single. Demon. Dead. You hear me?"
"Y-yes…" Kane whispered, turning away.
Philip scoffed. "You bring shame to the Holy Knights."
As the village appeared over the hills, Philip's eyes gleamed. Kane stared ahead, a single tear tracing down his cheek.
'I'm sorry,' he thought, 'for the lives I will steal today.'