A Few Hours Earlier
[Swoosh]
[Zzzswish]
"Hey…? What's that in the sky?"
Villagers shaded their eyes, staring upward.
"Is that... fire?"
"T-That's a fireball! GET DOWN!"
[BOOM]
[BANG]
"AARGHH!"
"H-Help... it burns!"
"ARGHHHH!"
[Crackle]
[Bang]
"The village is on fire!"
"Where's the village chief?!"
"Nooo!"
"They keep coming! RUN!"
From beyond the mountain's crest, fireballs the size of basketballs rained down upon the defenseless village. Flames erupted before they even touched flesh—consuming all within a two-meter radius. Wooden homes ignited instantly, the fire leaping from roof to roof like a predator hunting prey.
Screaming villagers fled, hearts pounding, some abandoning loved ones. Those too slow became silhouettes of blackened bone, arms outstretched, before crumbling into ash and sorrowful dust. Others were crushed beneath collapsing timbers, their skin seared away, organs devoured by the flames.
No one could help. No time. No mercy.
In eight minutes, the village was nothing but soot and ruin. A beloved home reduced to drifting embers in a toxic wind.
…
On the hill above, a cold grin formed beneath a knight's helm.
"This is looking good," Philip muttered, voice low with venom.
"Burn like the hellspawn you are. You filthy demons belong in ash."
He turned, barking orders.
"Move out! I want every demon dead. Leave a few alive—we'll interrogate them. Find the target."
He mounted his steed with a swift swing and charged off, leaving Kane behind.
"I just don't get why he hates demons so much..." Kane muttered under his breath. Nearby knights stiffened.
"Is something the matter, Sir?" one asked.
Kane shook his head. "No. Nothing."
The army advanced.
Wizards raised [Barrier] spells, shielding them from fire and rubble. Knights unstrapped shields from their backs and drew steel, blades glinting beneath the haze. Their synchronized march made the ground tremble, thunder made of metal.
At the front lines...
[Click-clat, Click-clat]
"Whoa. Stop here." Philip pulled hard on the reins and leapt down.
[Thump]
"I smell them…" he whispered, smirking.
A bow of magic crackled into existence in his hand. He turned, aiming at a building.
[Twang]
Two fire-infused arrows pierced through the wooden house like butter.
"ROARRRRR!"
"ARGHHHH!"
"ROARR!"
The roars died down to silence.
Philip tossed his bow; it vanished mid-air.
He stood grinning, arms raised, basking in the death cries.
[Crack]
His ears twitched. In a blink, he turned and unleashed another volley toward the sound. More screams followed.
"Oh yes… yes… the screams—just like music." He rocked back and forth, rubbing his arms. "Roaches. Filthy, screaming roaches."
But the silence that followed made his grin falter.
"No matter," he muttered. "I'll make them scream in time. I always do."
…
[Crack]
A tiny demon child stepped on a twig, clutching her father's hand. The others froze. Too late.
Arrows tore through the building. The child's frail body crumpled, a gaping hole in her chest.
Sasha and Ethan—mere meters ahead—escaped the hail. Tears blurred their vision, but they moved silently, each step a prayer not to be heard.
Sasha's thoughts clung to one thing: her son. She'd give her life a hundred times if it meant saving him.
She was 344 years old. Her husband, 428. Their love was quiet but fierce. They dreamed of watching their boy grow, find love, live free. Now, all that was left was the taste of ash and despair.
She wiped her tears. They wouldn't survive this. She knew.
Ethan felt a tug. Sasha held his hand, head bowed.
"…Let's stop running. We both know we can't outrun humans," she whispered, eyes heavy with sorrow.
Ethan dropped to the ground, face in his hands, sobbing.
Sasha smiled through her tears. She knelt and wrapped her arms around him.
Silver-armored knights surrounded them, swords drawn. Two stepped aside as Philip approached.
"Disgusting," he spat. "Just look at them. Pathetic."
He turned to his men.
"Tie them up. If they can't speak, burn them from the inside out. Interrogate, break bones—whatever it takes. If they can't talk, you know what to do."
He left, laughing.
An Hour Later
"ARGHHHH! WHAT DO YOU WANT?! JUST KILL US ALREADY!" Ethan screamed, but the humans didn't understand. They only stabbed deeper.
Blood pooled.
"No! LEAVE HER ALONE—SASHA!"
"ARGHHHHH!" she shrieked as enchanted blades seared her from within. The knights laughed, drunk on bloodlust.
From the shadows emerged Philip and Kane.
"Anything useful?" Philip asked coldly.
A knight bowed. "No, Sir. None of them speak our tongue. Orders?"
"You know what to do." Philip's gaze drifted to the horizon.
"Yes, Sir. Wizards, burn them."
The wizards formed a circle. A glowing spark ignited—growing. Hands thrust forward.
Sasha, organs scorched, looked up one last time. Through the haze, she glimpsed a familiar figure… strange legs… no, not strange—known. But her voice was gone.
'Goodbye, my son,' she smiled one final time, her wish granted.
She smiled through the pain. Her body turned to ash, her spirit flying with the wind—guiding her child through flame and death. Guiding silently her son to safety.
'My son…'