"My head… shit—why is it bleeding?"
Sirus groaned as he sat up, wincing at the sting above his brow. His eyes flicked to the dark smear staining the wooden railing beside him. Blood. Fresh. His blood.
"Damn… what the hell happened?"
His surroundings came into focus: a wagon, half-filled with hay, soaked in thick, pitch-black blood. The air smelled of smoke and charred wood. As he stumbled out of the wagon, his vision swam—then snapped into clarity.
Everything was on fire.
"The hell…?" His breath hitched. "Why is everything on fire?!"
He dropped to one knee, clutching his head, trying to piece together the fragments of memory. Flames danced across the remains of the village barricade, now collapsed in ash. Charred corpses—former villagers, former defenders—lay motionless and blackened. The image stabbed into his mind, and behind it came memory.
"Ow... I remember now. The Chief—he threw me off the mountain." He grit his teeth. "That crazy bastard wasn't even aiming right… How long was I out?"
Panic crept in. "I need to find my parents. Where would they evacuate to...? I think I saw—ugh, screw it. I'll head to the forest's edge."
He slapped his cheeks, grounding himself. The bleeding had stopped. Good.
A glint nearby caught his attention.
"An axe… That'll do."
He approached the charred corpses, pried a still-intact axe from the hands of one fallen guard, and took off toward the back of the village.
"Damn… I never realized how big this place was."
As he ran, he suddenly halted, ducking behind a house. Smoke coiled in the air. Over his shoulder, shapes moved.
"Humans? Wait... shit, I almost ran right into them. I thought they were survivors."
He crept forward, squinting through the haze. Knights—armored head to toe—stood guard while robed figures loomed behind them. Villagers were tied to trees, struggling weakly. His heart clenched, but he forced himself still.
'Three knights, one robed one... at least, that's what I saw at first. But now…'
The smoke parted briefly.
'More. Way more than before.'
He cursed under his breath and ducked lower.
'Why are there so damn many of them? I can't fight them—those knights are covered in full armor. And the robed ones... if they can use magic, I'm screwed. But I can't just leave the villagers…'
He peeked again. The air was thick, the heat unbearable. But he didn't see his parents. Not yet. That gave him a shred of hope.
Among the captors, one human in particular stood out—torturing the villagers with mechanical cruelty.
'I want to rip him apart... limb by fucking limb…'
His hands trembled. He steadied them. He was taller now. Stronger. A demon. He had his axe. But even with all that… it would be suicide. One wrong move and he'd be ash.
He crept back and crouched, weighing his odds.
'No houses beyond this point. Just the open forest. I might have to make a run for it…'
Then he heard it—footsteps. Voices.
"Did you get any information out of them?"
"No, sir. None of these demons speak our tongue."
"Tch. Then kill them already. Burn them. We're wasting time—we need to find the target."
"Yes, sir! Wizards, prepare fireballs. Burn the demons. They're useless now."
[Swoosh]
[Swoosh]
"AHHHH!"
"ROAR!"
Sirus watched in horror as the captives burned, their screams swallowed by the roar of flames. One of the knights, a man named Philip, turned his head, eyes narrowing.
"I sense a powerful aura. Over there."
He pointed—toward Sirus.
"Go. Check that building. Now."
Knights obeyed instantly, weapons raised. Another figure stepped forward—Kane, another Holy Knight, his expression wary.
"What is it, Philip?"
"You can't sense that?" Philip scoffed. "You call yourself a mage?"
Kane looked toward the building. His eyes widened slightly.
"I only noticed it now."
Philip rolled his eyes, unimpressed.
'If I ever see you betray the Holy Knights, I'll feed you to the demons myself,' he thought.
…
'Shit. They sensed me. Flames or not, if I don't move now, I'll be seen.'
[Thump]
[Thump]
His heart thundered. Time had run out.
'I have no choice. I have to move now!'
He burst from his hiding place, sprinting toward the forest. The knights turned too late, their vision obscured by smoke and fire. All they saw was a shadow—tall, fast, wielding something sharp.
He threw the axe.
[Swoosh]
[Ding!]
The weapon slammed into one knight's chest, piercing through the armor. The body tumbled back.
The black figure vanished into the trees.
"FOOLS! CHASE IT!" Philip bellowed. "ALL OF YOU—AFTER IT!"
The knights surged forward.
"What… what was that thing?" Kane stammered.
"I don't know," Philip muttered. "Didn't look like a demon. Not with those legs. But whatever it is... it won't get far."
He conjured a glowing arrow, stringing it with a breathless whisper.
'A freeze arrow. That should slow it down.'
He fired.
…
"I made it… I made it out somehow."
Sirus sprinted through the forest, lungs burning, vision sharpening. He could hear water nearby.
'Demon night vision. Thank god. I can see. No more damn fog—'
A faint whistle behind him. He turned, eyes catching a glint of something icy blue.
A projectile.
Too fast.
He ducked—too late. A branch clipped his head and he stumbled, the arrow grazing past. Ice bloomed across his scalp.
[Swoosh, Splash!]
His body crashed into a river, unconscious, the current dragging him into the depths of the blackened night.
Back at the village, Philip frowned.
"What the hell is wrong with my aim today? Second miss..." He scoffed, turning back to the burning captives. "Whatever. It grazed. That should slow the bastard down."
Ash rained down like cursed snow. The screams had stopped. Only fire remained.