<b>Fire and smoke. Blood and death.</b>
The village of Asedal was in chaos. Flames devoured everything—the homes, the fields, and the hopes of the terrified villagers. Wyverns circled high in the smoke-filled sky. Orcs and goblins tore through the narrow streets. Some villagers darted away like frightened animals; others huddled in the shadows of crumbling walls. A mother clutched her child and crouched in the corner of a broken shack. They trembled as the heavy footfalls of an orc shook the ground nearby. An old man ran but stumbled into the dirt, and goblins descended on him in a frenzy, abruptly silencing him with their savage jaws.
A Nether Rift tore across the horizon, spawning new horrors by the second. From every corner of the village, the souls of the fallen—shimmering wisps of green light—rose from their still-warm corpses. Each soul flickered as if resisting its fate before being drawn into the depths of the Rift.
Simply put, there was no salvation in the Realm of Meiyr. Every day was a struggle for survival, and with each day, hope dimmed like a dying candle in a storm. Families were broken, towns burned to ash, and the people? They had long since learned to live in fear. They ran, they hid, and when that failed—they died.
A low hum resonated through the village, unnoticed by the panicked masses, as a portal gate shimmered to life in the town square. Its swirling blue and white light cast a cold, flickering glow over the shattered buildings. From its center emerged the Elite Squad—Stormfront.
Nia’s amber eyes filled with sorrow as she took in the devastation. So many villages—each reduced to ash, each fading into the same scorched ruin. Her hands showed a faint tremor, but she quickly clenched them.
"We''re late," she whispered.
Byron, their leader, did not respond right away. His gaze was stern, fixed on the village—unshaken by the smell of charred wood and burning flesh. “We’ll split up. Nia, Jermaine, Malik—you’re with me. Kamari, Elijah, Leon—take the western sector. Let’s get this done.”
<hr>
Byron targeted the two orcs charging toward him. He unleashed a burst of purple flames from his feet, propelling himself high above their heads. Enre concentrated within his chest, causing his eyes to glow eerie purple. The orcs barely had time to register what was happening as he unleashed a torrent of violet fire from his outstretched hands. The flames roared downward with controlled force, engulfing the beasts. He didn’t even glance back as they crumbled to ash.
Nia stood behind him at the edge of a partially collapsed rooftop. The cracked stone shifted beneath her weight as a bow materialized in a soft silver glow, fitting perfectly in her grasp. In her other hand, a Knullifier Arrow appeared, its tip crafted from black Oxsyn Stone. Taking a small breath, she pulled back hard on the bowstring. The arrow whistled through the air, striking the heart of the Rift. A flicker of satisfaction crossed her face as it imploded in a swirl of dark Nether Energy.
Lightning trailed behind Jermaine as he zoomed through the sky. His target was the Red Wyverns, which relentlessly bombarded the panicked village below with fire.
The beasts never stood a chance.
With a flick, bolts of blue lightning shot from his fingertips, vaporizing them. A grin lined his lips as he hovered amidst their falling ashes. This was his domain—none could rival his power or speed, and he relished every second of it.
"This is too easy!" His voice boomed like rolling thunder.
Nia rolled her eyes. <i>"Focus!"</i> she said. Her words reached him telepathically.
Jermaine vanished in a burst of lightning, reappearing beside her long enough to kiss her cheek. "Relax, I''m just having some fun."
He winked, then disappeared back into the sky.
<hr>
Elijah raced through the burning streets of the village''s western sector. The hot air rushed against his face as the chaos continued to unfold around him: screams echoed, flames raged, and homes crumbled. Yet, he couldn''t afford to dwell on the devastation. His focus was the goblins; they had to be eliminated—and fast.
The villagers hardly noticed his presence. Their reddened eyes struggled to follow the blur of lightning as he rushed by. A sharp crack of thunder echoed each time he passed, and with every goblin he struck down, its body twitched, sizzling as the last sparks of his power danced across its skin.
Ahead, a group of villagers huddled in the shadow of a collapsed building as a goblin crept closer. Elijah flicked his hand, and a lightning bolt struck the creature just as it lunged. Its body collapsed in a smoking heap with jagged patterns etched across its scorched skin.
The villagers began to convey their gratitude, but he didn''t stop to hear it. There was no time for thanks. <i>Just keep moving</i>, he thought.
The destruction around him no longer stirred the same horror it once had. He’d seen it too many times before—burning villages, broken families, the corpses. It never changed. He’d learned to block it out, to focus on doing his part. The villagers had a chance as long as he kept the streets clear. That’s what mattered.
<hr>
Nearby, Malik’s grin widened as his two short daggers materialized in his hands, engulfed in blue flames. The chaos and the heat of battle filled him with a deep satisfaction. He had been trained for this; he was born for the fight.
Ahead, an orc''s massive hand clawed through the collapsed roof of a broken house, reaching for an old woman trembling in the corner. Malik’s eyes narrowed on the beast. The orc barely noticed his presence—until it was too late.
He slid smoothly through the giant’s legs and hurled his flaming blades into the back of its heels. The daggers detonated on impact, causing the creature to crash face-first into the dirt with a ground-shaking thud.
His daggers rematerialized in his hands as he leaped onto the orc’s back. He drove them into the base of its skull, igniting a torrent of blue flames on impact. The beast let out a guttural roar, but Malik didn’t stop—he had no sympathy for such ungodly creatures. Its agonized cries faded as its massive body disintegrated into a pile of smoldering ash beneath his feet.
Malik''s grin lingered as he stood there for a moment. That was another enemy down—another threat neutralized—and he was itching for his next victim.
<hr>
Elsewhere, Kamari tore through goblins with fists wreathed in yellow flames. Each punch landed with devastating force, reducing the beasts to ash. The cacophony of dying screams, roaring fire, and collapsing buildings continued to plague the village. Orcs rampaged in the distance while goblins scurried through the streets like rats. Yet, amidst the turmoil, something caught his eye—movement in a shadowed alleyway.
A small figure huddled against a stone wall, barely visible through the thick smoke. As he moved closer, he realized it was a girl trembling and clutching a tattered stuffed bunny to her chest. Tears streaked her dirty cheeks as she cried.
He extinguished the flames from his hands as he approached, but the moment her wide eyes locked onto him, her body froze. His clothes and face were smeared with goblin blood, distorting his warm smile into a terrifying, almost monstrous grin. The little girl shrank back, pressing into the wall as if to disappear.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.
Kamari’s heart sank. He hadn’t realized how menacing he must have looked in that moment.
<i>Idiot</i>, he thought, bumping his fist on his forehead.
His flames reignited in a soft, controlled burst. They licked across his skin and burned away the blood. When the fire flickered out, he knelt before her and lowered his voice to a whisper.
“Hey... it’s okay. I won’t hurt you.”
The girl continued to tremble. She clutched her stuffed bunny so tight that her knuckles turned white.
Seeing her like this reminded him of someone. Himself. His heart dropped.
"What''s your name?" he asked.
For a moment, the girl remained silent. Then, in a shaky whisper, she said, "Nala."
Kamari’s smile widened. "Nala? That’s a beautiful name."
His eyes drifted to the stuffed rabbit in her arms. Its tiny face was stained with blood.
"And what about your friend? What''s his name?" he continued.
Nala slowly lifted the rabbit to his face.
"Bun-Bun."
"Bun-Bun? That’s a strong name. You did a great job keeping Bun-Bun safe. Hold onto him, okay? I''ll take it from here. "
Nala nodded, still clutching Bun-Bun tightly. Kamari then scooped her up and held her close.
"I’m going to get you out of here, Nala. I promise."
Nala buried her face in his chest as he exited the alleyway. The heat from the nearby flames licked at his skin, and acrid smoke stung his eyes. He felt her slight tremble as she coughed against him. Then he heard a low, steady thud reverberating through the ground.
Orcs.
Their footsteps grew uncomfortably close. He quickly veered into the shadows near the ruined buildings, staying close to the crumbling walls to remain out of sight. He couldn’t risk being seen, especially with Nala in his arms. Gradually, the thudding footsteps faded away. He then approached the town square, ensuring each step was slow and measured to avoid jostling her.
<hr>
A few minutes later, the chaos in the village had subsided. Stormfront systematically dispatched the remaining Infernals with ease. Jermaine’s lightning carved through the sky, Nia’s Enre-charged arrows struck true, and Malik’s blades left smoking trails of ash among the last goblins. In less than ten minutes, the village had been secured.
However, victory had come at a heavy cost. The village lay in ruins. Homes were reduced to charred skeletons. And the streets were littered with corpses. Kamari’s expression darkened as he took it all in.
<i>How many more villages? How many more deaths?</i> He thought.
No matter how many battles they fought, the result was always the same: devastation.
He reached the town square, where a small group of villagers huddled before the swirling portal. Their faces were streaked with dirt and tears as they clung to one another, trembling—their eyes wide and breaths shaky.
He gazed at them for a moment, wanting to say something—anything—to reassure them. Yet, the words felt hollow in light of all they had lost. What comfort could he give when he knew this cycle would only repeat itself? So, he remained silent, offering only brief, reassuring nods.
Suddenly, a woman broke free from the group. Her eyes were fixed on the little girl in Kamari''s arms as a cry tore from her throat, "Nala!"
Nala''s head jerked from Kamari’s chest, and her small face lit up. "Mommy!" She shouted.
Nala wiggled in his arms, prompting him to gently set her down on the ground. She dashed into her mother’s embrace, and they held each other with tears streaming down their faces.
Kamari watched the different reactions of the other villagers. Some smiled, their faces brightening at the sight of the reunion, thankful that at least one family had been spared. However, others—those who had lost children of their own—looked on with hollow eyes. Their sorrow cut through the beautiful moment like a rusted blade.
His heart ached for them. The scene reminded him of why he fought but also showed him why he could never fully celebrate their victories. The losses always lingered, shadowing each triumph.
Nala''s mother looked up at him, sobbing uncontrollably. "Thank you! Thank you for saving my precious girl!"
Kamari scratched the back of his head and smiled at her. "No need to thank me. I’m just happy she’s safe."
Byron approached from behind. He was calm as he surveyed the group of survivors. “It’s time," he said, signaling to the portal.
Nala''s mother held her close as they walked toward the portal, continuously thanking Kamari with each step. Kamari offered a final polite nod before stepping back, watching as Byron and Nia guided the villagers through the portal.
<hr>
About half an hour later, the village was crowded with Seraphim''s Search and Rescue Division members. They moved quickly, sifting through the wreckage for any signs of life. Their lightweight IronSilk armor shimmered in the sunlight, the bright gold and white colors marking them as a beacon of hope amidst the desolation. Some carried large bags filled with supplies, while others had utility belts packed with potions, medical tools, and devices designed to aid the search. The area bustled with activity—the hum of voices, the hurried steps, and the clink of tools.
A temporary base of operations had been set up in the middle of the town square, where the few survivors that had been found were receiving immediate treatment. Healers knelt beside the wounded, their hands glowing white with restorative magic, while others administered potions to those barely clinging to life.
Stormfront assisted in the search.
Jermaine hovered over the ruins of a collapsed building, his face displaying its usual confidence. However, deep inside, the bravado he wore like armor wavered for a moment as he scanned the destruction below—the charred beams, the piles of ash, and the lives that had been extinguished in an instant. His heart ached for everything he saw, but he didn’t show it. The only indication of his frustration was the small, uncontrolled arcs of lightning flickering restlessly from his skin.
His usual brash thoughts grew quiet, replaced by something more gentle. <i>These poor people...</i>
He didn’t allow the thought to linger; he couldn’t afford to. There was still work to be done. Without moving a muscle, large chunks of stone and timber floated effortlessly into the air, shifting aside. However, this was not merely telekinesis; it felt more intrinsic—as if the objects themselves were bending to his will.
Leon worked nearby. While others might have needed to dig, he commanded the air to clear the way. He funneled the debris into neat piles, searching for anything buried beneath the destruction.
"How''s it looking on your side?" He called out to Jermaine.
Jermaine descended onto the rubble and kicked a small piece of wood, sending it tumbling down the dirt pathway. “Same as yours. Not good.”
Leon turned his attention back to the wreckage, and his keen eyes spotted something small and delicate. He crouched down, carefully moving a smaller piece of debris. Beneath it lay a shattered doll, its face marked with soot. He clenched his jaw at the sight. Something else caught his attention as he set the doll aside—a small arm protruding from the rubble.
His breath caught in his throat as he hurriedly pushed aside the debris. His heart sank when he saw the face of a child. She looked so small—so fragile. Her eyes were locked in an empty stare, and her body lay still. Leon dropped to his knees and pressed his ear against her tiny chest.
But there was nothing... she was gone.
The revelation hit him like a physical blow. He slammed his fists down, cracking the debris beside him. It felt as though his heart was being ripped apart as he stared down at the lifeless child. With a shaky hand, he picked up the doll and carefully placed it beside her, his fingers lingering on its cracked face.
<hr>
Nearby, Kamari strained as he lifted a collapsed wooden roof, heaving it aside to reveal two villagers huddled beneath. Their faces were streaked with dirt and blood. Search and Rescue Division members rushed forward, offering him a quick nod of thanks as they set to work assisting the survivors.
He stood there for a moment, observing. His fists clenched, and yellow flames flared around them. The sight of the helpless survivors stirred deep emotions within him—anger, frustration, and perhaps something more. Seeing them endure such suffering, forced to witness their village burn and crumble, pained him.
His fists burned hotter.
Suddenly, a surge of electricity jolted him from his thoughts. Elijah appeared beside him, his skin crackling with raw energy, and patted him on the shoulder.
"Whoa, easy there, Red,” he said.
Kamari exhaled slowly, and the flames died. His eyes remained on the villagers as they were led away.
"I just—look at them, Eli. They didn’t deserve this."
Elijah followed Kamari’s gaze. "None of them did. But we did what we could."
"No, we should’ve arrived sooner. Maybe then more people would’ve survived."
Elijah sighed. "Listen, Red, I understand your frustration, but we need to be realistic. We can’t be everywhere at once, and these Rifts are opening faster than we can close them. As much as it pains me to say it, we won’t be able to save every village."
"That''s not good enough. It shouldn’t be like this."
Kamari walked away, not saying another word. No matter what anyone said, this felt like a failure.
The devastation around him stirred memories he had long tried to bury. His clan had suffered a similar fate, and he could almost hear their voices now—desperate cries for help as his village crumbled. His chest tightened as the old wound threatened to reopen.
He clenched his jaw and quickened his steps, putting distance between himself and Elijah. It didn’t matter how much stronger he had become since then; it still wasn’t enough. He wasn’t enough. His fingers flexed at his sides as the yellow flames threatened to erupt while he fought to control his rising emotions.