《Frislandia - [Action, Adventure, High Fantasy]》


 Chapter 01: First step towards the Dream Part 1

    "Am I a descendant of gods?" Asper''s voice rang out in the darkness around him. It echoed, stretching endlessly in the void. Then, from somewhere deep within, a faint voice whispered back: "Yes." Before he could react, a shadowy figure with a blurred, featureless face surged forward, driving a blade straight into his heart. Asper gasped, pain ripping through his chest as everything around him blurred into nothingness.


    With a gasp, Asper awoke, clutching his chest as he sat up in bed, his breath coming in shallow, ragged bursts. Sweat clung to his skin, and his heart pounded violently against his ribs. He scanned the room, half expecting to see that shadowy figure standing over him. But he was alone. It was just a dream.


    Or was it?


    But it wasn''t just the shock of the nightmare that unsettled him. It was the feeling that this had happened before. D¨¦j¨¤ vu gripped him. He had never experienced this dream before, yet it felt eerily familiar¡ªlike a memory buried deep within him.


    The question haunted him: "Am I a descendant of gods?"


    The phrase nagged at the edges of his consciousness like an old riddle he couldn''t quite solve. Then it struck him¡ªthose words were the very first line in his favorite book: The Legendary Travels of Homer Jallins. The travelogue of the greatest explorer to ever live. But why would a line from that book appear in his dream... or nightmare?


    Asper leaned back against his bed, staring out the window as he tried to steady his breathing. The early morning light had just begun to filter through the sky, casting a faint orange glow over the dojo. Birds chirped softly, perched on the branches of a tall oak tree that stood just outside his window. The world outside seemed calm, serene, a stark contrast to the storm raging in his mind.


    He slowly rose from his bed, his feet touching the cool wooden floor of his small, simple room. The walls were lined with shelves crammed full of books¡ªhis escape. Thick, hard-covered volumes about travel, exploration, and adventure filled every available space. Some books lay scattered on the floor, left open on pages he had been reading late into the night. A large wooden bookshelf stretched almost to the ceiling, a testament to his insatiable curiosity about the world beyond the village.


    The room itself was modest: just a mattress on the floor and a small closet for his clothes. For someone so fascinated with the vastness of the outside world, his living space was unusually tidy. Each book had its place, each object neatly arranged, as if he were preparing for an adventure at any moment.


    A small smirk tugged at the corners of Asper''s mouth as he dressed in his traditional Cloverdel training attire¡ªa dark blue and red tunic embroidered with golden, the colors of his lineage. He tightened the belt around his waist, casting one last glance out the window. The tree swayed gently in the morning breeze, the vast bamboo boundaries of the dojo visible beyond it. Beyond that, the forest stretched out like an ocean of green, the towering trees swaddling the dojo in nature''s embrace.


    "Today, I''m definitely going to defeat that ponytail," Asper muttered to himself, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "And then... I''ll take my freedom and go on adventures." He let out a low, almost villainous chuckle. "Heh... hehehe..."


    With newfound determination, Asper burst out of his room, making his way toward the training hall. The wooden floor creaked beneath his feet as he crossed the hallway, the familiar scent of wood and incense filling the air. If he could win this fight, he''d finally have the chance to leave the village and explore the world beyond its borders.


    The training room loomed before him, the door slightly ajar. Inside, he could already see his sensei, Warrek, and his opponent, Riven Lobenstein, waiting for him.


    Warrek stood at the far side of the room, his posture straight and commanding despite his short stature. His well-built frame was unmistakable, and his gray hair, tied back in a short ponytail, spoke of wisdom and experience beyond his thirty-something years. He had the look of a man who had seen battle, his rough hands crossed over his chest, his eyes watching everything with an intensity that made you feel seen even when you weren''t looking his way.


    Riven, on the other hand, a year older than Asper, at 18, with long, shiny blue hair tied neatly into a ponytail that hung down his back, he moved with a grace that made him seem lighter than air. His sharp, emotionless eyes made it hard to tell what he was thinking. Though his frame was thin, it carried a quiet, coiled strength¡ªone that had earned him the title of the dojo''s undisputed prodigy. He was taller than Asper by a few inches, standing with a rigid discipline that Asper secretly admired, even if he''d never admit it.


    Asper, with his short, messy maroon hair and lively, expressive eyes, stood in stark contrast to his opponent. Where Riven was quiet and composed, Asper was vibrant, full of energy, and always wearing a grin that made it seem like he knew a secret no one else did. His build was more robust than Riven''s¡ªnot bulky, but solid and strong, his body honed from years of training at the dojo. Despite his carefree attitude, he took his training seriously. He stepped into the training room, his usual grin in place, though there was a fire behind his eyes.


    The incense-heavy air was thick with the scent of cedar, a weight that seemed to press down on Asper''s mind and heart. The dojo was a testament to its long history¡ªwooden dummies scarred by countless strikes, aged weapons reverently displayed on the walls. The polished wooden floor reflected the dim lighting, amplifying every footstep like the echoes of generations of warriors who had trained in this very space.


    "Today''s the day I defeat you, Ponytail," Asper declared, a playful grin tugging at his lips as he squared off against Riven in the dimly lit dojo. His eyes, usually bright and full of mischief, were sharper, more determined. It was the 38th match in their series of continuous fights¡ªfights that would decide whether Asper could leave the village to pursue his dreams of exploring the world beyond these forests and mountains of Darzine.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    Ever since his 17th birthday on June 8th, the condition for him to gain his freedom had been clear: Defeat the dojo''s genius, Riven Lobenstein. It was a challenge set by his mother to prove that he was ready, that he had the strength and skill to survive the dangers of the world beyond. But every single day since then, Riven had beaten him effortlessly. Today marked yet another fight in a long chain of defeats, but Asper wasn''t one to give up easily.


    Riven sighed, his gaze steady and impassive. "That''s the 38th time you''ve said that, Asper. And the 38th time you''ll be disappointed." He looked down slightly at Asper.


    Asper''s grin widened, feigning shock. "Hold on... 38 times? You''ve been counting?!" He shuddered dramatically, clutching his chest as if wounded. "Don''t tell me you''re obsessed with me, Riven!"


    Riven''s brow twitched at the accusation. "Shut up," he muttered, the faintest hint of irritation cracking his calm demeanor.


    Asper laughed, his mood shifting into a more serious tone as he bent his knees, assuming his fighting stance. "Let''s see then. Bring it on, Ponytail."


    A muscle twitched in Riven''s jaw. "Get ready...loudmouth." The last part was a mocking jab¡ªa nickname Riven had started using when their matches first began.


    Warrek stood at the far end, observing silently. The sensei''s intense gaze bore down on them, adding to the pressure. The moment he nodded, Asper sprang forward, his movements fast but controlled. He feinted left, then lunged right, attempting to grab Riven''s wrist. Riven twisted his body, sidestepping neatly. But Asper anticipated the move, shifting his weight to his back foot and spinning around, catching Riven''s arm and twisting it sharply behind his back.


    Point one.


    Riven''s eyes widened ever so slightly before he regained his composure, his expression unreadable as always. "Not so bad, huh?" Asper said, panting slightly. He loosened his grip just enough to let Riven regain his footing, stepping back with a satisfied smirk. "What was that about 38 losses again?"


    Riven''s calm eyes narrowed. "You''re getting ahead of yourself," he murmured softly.


    Asper lunged faster this time, aiming for Riven''s side. He managed to graze Riven''s wrist, but his opponent was already a step ahead, countering with a swift grip and locking Asper''s arm. The pressure mounted as Riven twisted his arm and shoved him backward.


    Point one.


    Asper winced, rolling to his feet. He forced a grin, though his heart hammered in his chest. "Lucky shot."


    Riven said nothing, his gaze locked onto Asper''s, unreadable and calm. For a moment, neither moved, the tension between them palpable. The air felt thick, charged with anticipation.


    Asper narrowed his eyes, calculating his next move. He stepped forward, and Riven mirrored him¡ªeach waiting for the other to slip. Then, with lightning speed, they both struck at the same time. Asper aimed for Riven''s ribs, while Riven swung a sharp fist toward Asper''s shoulder.


    Their blows collided midair in a loud crack. The impact sent a shockwave through Asper''s arm, but he held his ground, teeth gritted. They recoiled, neither gaining an advantage. For the first time, Asper felt like he had matched Riven''s speed, if only for a second.


    They circled each other now, eyes locked, each studying the other''s stance.


    Stay calm. You can do this. One point at a time, Asper murmured to himself.


    But Riven was done waiting.


    He moved. One moment, Riven was standing before him; the next, he was inside Asper''s guard. With a smooth pivot, he broke Asper''s grip, twisted his arm around, and threw him over his shoulder in one swift motion.


    Point two.


    Asper''s heart pounded in his chest. He had barely been able to touch Riven. How could someone be this far beyond him? His breathing was ragged now, and his mind raced. He felt a swell of doubt rise up¡ªcould he ever beat Riven? Could he ever win his freedom?


    He couldn''t stop. Not now. Not after everything.


    Focus. Don''t lose sight of your goal.


    But the gap between them loomed larger with each passing moment. Riven moved with the confidence of someone who knew exactly how this match would end¡ªlike it wasn''t a question of if Asper would lose, but when.


    The score was 1-2 now. Asper took a deep breath, shaking out his arms. He could do this. Two more points and he''d win. He just needed to focus. As he prepared to charge again, a sudden heaviness gripped his chest, like an invisible weight pressing down on his ribs. His vision began to blur, and the room around him dimming. His heart pounded painfully in his chest, and then¡ªlike a shock running through his veins¡ªhe felt a sudden jolt. It was as if his entire body had been hit by a wave of electricity. His muscles tensed, tightening as if they were about to snap. He gasped, eyes wide, and staggered backward, his legs unsteady beneath him. Everything around him blurred, the dojo, Riven, and the scent of cedar wood all melting into a static haze.


    What... what''s happening?


    "Asper!" Riven''s voice sounded distant, barely registering as Asper''s body began to buckle under the weight of whatever was happening. In that brief moment of weakness, Riven seized the opening. He shifted forward, his movements fluid, wrapping his arm around Asper''s and sending him crashing to the floor once more. Then, with a swift twist and a solid pin, he secured Asper''s shoulders to the ground.


    Point three.


    The match was over.


    But Asper barely registered it. His head swam, his body felt heavy, and everything around him started to blur.


    Is this all I can do? Is there really no way for me to win? To leave this village?


    The doubts clawed at him as his body grew heavier. He could see the disappointment in his own reflection, flickering in his mind. Was his dream just that¡ªa dream, forever out of reach? Would he always be the boy who couldn''t defeat the prodigy, the one who couldn''t escape his village?


    I''ve lost... again.


    His thoughts blurred with the growing darkness as he crumpled to the floor, and then everything went dark.


    Asper''s consciousness faded...., like the final crack of a lightning bolt before the sky falls silent.

 Chapter 02: First step towards the Dream Part 2

    "Asper... Asper... Wake up, Descendent... of Cloverdel... The time... Of the promise... Has come... It is time... "


    The voice resonated within Asper''s mind, deep and resonant, stirring both fear and wonder within him. He tried to respond, to question the source of the voice, but his throat felt dry and his words refused to form.


    "Who... who are you?" Asper thought, his mind awash with confusion.


    There was a pause, as if the voice was considering its response. Then, it spoke again, its tone filled with urgency.


    "Asper, I am ''Zeus'' Cloverdel family''s Guardian Qurint," the voice intoned. "I have been bound for too long, and now, the time has come for you to set me free."


    Asper''s heart pounded in his chest, a mixture of excitement and trepidation coursing through him. He knew nothing of this Guardian, yet there was a strange familiarity in the voice that spoke to him.


    "But... I don''t know anything... how... how am I supposed to free you?" Asper thought, his mind brimming with questions.


    The voice fell silent, leaving Asper hanging in anticipation. He couldn''t shake the feeling of unease as he waited for a response, his patience wearing thin. "Um... Mr. Voice... Zeus?" Asper ventured tentatively, hoping for a reply. Yet, the silence persisted, stretching on like an endless abyss. Suddenly, a piercing scream shattered the stillness, jolting Asper from his reverie.


    His eyes snapped open, and he found himself lying in a familiar white room, the soft glow of the infirmary lights illuminating his surroundings. He felt a throb in his shoulder, a reminder of his recent defeat at Riven''s hands.


    As he sat up, his mind buzzing with the encounter with the Guardian, he couldn''t shake the feeling that his life was about to change in ways he could never have imagined. His Vision cleared, and he became aware of a doctor attending to a young girl who sat on chair nearby. The doctor wore a traditional white yukata with red borders, her long white hair cascading down her back. She looked like a figure out of a timeless legend, her hands moving with practiced grace as she bandaged a scrape on the little girl''s knee. The girl, with rosy cheeks and wide, curious eyes, watched the doctor''s every move.


    As the doctor finished bandaging the girl''s knee, the child looked up and locked eyes with Asper. A warm, innocent smile graced her face, a pure expression of childhood joy. With a sudden burst of energy, the girl hopped off the bed and scampered towards Asper, her small feet barely making a sound on the polished wooden floor. She stopped before him, still smiling, and then giggled as if sharing a secret with a newfound friend.


    "Be careful, Yumi-chan," said the doctor with a concerned expression.


    "Heehehehehe, okay, Granny," replied Yumi with a mischievous grin.


    With a gleeful twinkle in her eyes, she turned and dashed out of the room, leaving behind a sense of wonder that lingered in the air.


    Asper couldn''t help but chuckle at the exchange. "Granny?" he echoed, amused by the little girl''s choice of words.


    The doctor shot Asper a disapproving glance, clearly annoyed by Yumi''s playful jab at her age. With a resigned sigh, she turned her attention back to Asper. "So, How do you feel now?" she asked, her tone softening with concern.


    Asper shook his head, a hint of discomfort evident in his expression. "Not really good, mom" he admitted reluctantly. After Asper''s confession, his mother''s concern deepened, her brows furrowing with worry.


    "What happened, Asper?" she inquired gently, her voice laced with a mother''s tenderness. "Warrek told me you were zoned out during the fight. Is it because of "That" incident?", she continued, "If so, you should stop blaming yourself for that. It wasn''t your fault."Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    Asper''s breath caught in his throat, the weight of his mother''s words sinking into his troubled mind. "No, it wasn''t because of that," he interjected hastily, his voice tinged with frustration. "Sorry, I think I mistook the situation," she admitted, her tone softened with maternal compassion. "But even so, you know what your defeat to Riven means, right?"


    "But, Mom..." Asper attempted to protest, but she cut him off with a gentle shake of her head, her expression firm yet loving.


    "No ''buts,'' Asper," she insisted. "Your defeat to Riven signifies that you aren''t yet ready to leave the safety of the village and venture into the world beyond. The dangers out there are far greater and more unforgiving than anything you''ve encountered here... and I won''t risk losing you too."


    Asper''s frustration simmered beneath the surface, his emotions threatening to spill over. "You don''t understand, Mom!!!" he burst out, his voice trembling with pent-up anger. "Living in this dojo and this godforsaken village feels like being trapped in a cage! You promised to let me go when I turned 17, but all I always hear is I''m not ready. Just when... when will I be ready to leave the village and follow my dream?.... And today..., there was a voice inside my head, urging me to free them or.... unseal them, I think i will go crazy at this rate..."


    His mother''s eyes widened at the mention of the unknown Voice, her concern deepening as she reached out to her son. But before she could utter another word, Asper''s anger flared, and with a swift motion, he tossed aside his blanket and stormed out of the room, his footsteps echoing down the corridor as he fled the confines of the infirmary, leaving his mother behind, her heart heavy with worry and regret.


    He burst out of the dojo and into the heart of Darzine village, a place where everyone knew each other. The village was divided by three river streams flowing from the mountain, converging into a grand ocean. The villagers went about their daily routines, some tending to their gardens, others engaging in lively conversations.


    "Hey, Asper!" called out Mr. Horan, the village blacksmith, his voice gruff but friendly. Asper barely registered the greeting, his thoughts a whirlwind. Mrs. Della, the baker, waved at him, her apron dusted with flour. "Asper, dear, how are you?" she asked, her voice full of warmth. But Asper walked on, his mind elsewhere.


    "Did you hear about the match?" a villager whispered to another as he passed by. "He lost to Riven again," came the reply, tinged with sympathy. Asper''s jaw tightened, but he kept moving.


    The bustling market came into view, a cacophony of sounds and smells. Vendors called out their wares, the scent of fresh produce mingling with that of baked goods. "Fresh fish! Just caught!" "Handcrafted pots and pans!" The familiar sights and sounds were a backdrop to Asper''s turbulent thoughts.


    Asper''s feet carried him to his favourite spot by the ocean, a place where the three streams converged and spilled into the vast, shimmering expanse of water. The sight was as breathtaking as ever. Seagulls and other birds soared above, their cries blending with the gentle roar of the waves. The ocean breeze rustled the leaves of the nearby trees, carrying with it the scent of salt and freedom. He sat down on a smooth rock by the water''s edge, his thoughts still racing. This was where he always came to find solace. The rhythmic flow of the river into the ocean brought him a sense of calm. He watched the birds fly freely above, their wings cutting through the sky with effortless grace. They embodied everything he longed for: freedom.


    Sighing deeply, Asper felt the weight of his recent confrontation with his mother pressing heavily on him. The promise she had made to let him leave the village at 17 now felt like a distant memory, overshadowed by her protective fears. His heart ached with the desire to explore the world beyond the mountains and the ocean, to break free from the confines of Darzine village and find his own path.


    He glanced at a tree nearby and memories flooded back. He remembered lying under that very tree years ago, feeling just as trapped and despondent as he did now. A shadowy figure of a girl had appeared over him, her voice clear in his mind. "Hey, you look sad!" she had said.


    They had shared countless adventures, explored the village and dreamed of the world beyond. Moments of laughter and joy, running through the fields and playing by the streams, flitted through his mind. But then came the darker memory. The same faceless figure, reaching out to him with concern, saying, "Asper, you shouldn''t...". He remembered the anger and frustration boiling over, pushing her away, leaving her alone as he stormed off. He never saw her again after that day, and the memory of her voice haunted him.


    The pain of that mistake mingled with his current frustrations, deepening his sense of entrapment and loss. Asper leaned against the tree, the bark rough against his back, and closed his eyes. His mother''s words echoed in his mind, and he felt the weight of his past mistakes and future uncertainties pressing down on him. He knew he couldn''t stay in the village forever. The world outside called to him, and the voice inside his head only intensified that call.

 Chapter 03: First step towards the Dream Part 3

    Lost in his thoughts, Asper heard a familiar voice calling out to him.


    "Ah, there you are, Asper,"


    The village chief, Lupus V. Darzine, approached, his walking stick tapping rhythmically against the ground, the sun glinting off his silver hair. Lupus was an old man, his wisdom evident in his weathered face and kind eyes. Asper had always called him Granduncle.


    "I was wondering where you had disappeared to."


    "Good morning, Granduncle," Asper replied, forcing a smile that didn''t quite reach his eyes.


    "Or is it a bad morning?" Lupus chuckled, taking a seat beside him. "You look troubled."


    "I''m fine," Asper said, his voice sharper than he intended. "Just tired of being told I''m not ready."


    Lupus raised an eyebrow, sensing the frustration simmering beneath Asper''s words. "You had another match with Riven, didn''t you?"


    Asper sighed, running a hand through his messy maroon hair. "Yeah, and I lost... again. Mom won''t let me leave the village until I beat him. It feels like I''m trapped in this place, and I just want to see the world!"


    His voice cracked slightly at the end, and he quickly looked away, embarrassed by the rawness of his emotion.


    Lupus studied him for a moment before responding. "It''s only natural to feel that way, my boy. But your mother cares for you deeply. She wants to ensure you''re ready for what lies beyond these mountains."


    Asper''s anger flared again, but he suppressed it, knowing Lupus was right. "But I am ready! Why can''t she see that?"


    "Because she worries," Lupus said softly. "After losing your father, she''s scared of losing you too. She''s just trying to protect you."


    Asper clenched his fists, feeling the weight of guilt creeping in. "I know... but it''s infuriating! I''m tired of waiting for her permission. It''s not fair!"


    "Life often isn''t fair," Lupus replied, his tone gentle yet firm. "But you must understand that your mother''s fears come from love. She doesn''t want you to get hurt, especially not in a world as dangerous as the one you wish to explore."


    Asper turned his gaze toward the ocean, the waves crashing rhythmically against the rocks. "I just shouted at her, you know? I regretted it the moment I walked out."


    Lupus placed a comforting hand on Asper''s shoulder. "It''s okay to feel anger, but don''t let it cloud your love for her. Apologize when you get the chance. She needs to know you understand her fears, just as you hope she understands your dreams."


    Asper nodded slowly, the anger ebbing away. "You''re right. I should talk to her again... I just wish I could prove that I''m ready to take on the world."


    "You will," Lupus said, a twinkle of encouragement in his eyes. "Just remember, every journey begins with a single step. Make sure to take that step with a clear heart."


    Feeling a sense of clarity wash over him, Asper stood, determination settling in. "Thanks, Granduncle. I needed this."


    Lupus smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Now go. Talk to your mother."


    He stood up and hurried back to the dojo, ready to mend what had been broken.


    As he approached, he saw his mother, Katina, standing at the entrance, her eyes filled with worry. The moment she saw him, relief washed over her face, and she rushed to him, her arms open.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    "Asper," she said, her voice trembling with emotion. "I was so worried."


    Asper felt a lump in his throat. "Mom..., I... I''m sorry. I didn''t mean to. I just...I.."


    Katina''s eyes softened, tears glistening at the corners. "I''m sorry too, Asper. I haven''t been listening to your feelings. I''m just so scared of losing you like I lost your father.". They embraced, holding each other tightly. "I love you, Mom," Asper whispered. "And I need you to understand how important it is for me to explore the world. Katina pulled back slightly, looking into his eyes. "I do understand, Asper. But promise me you''ll be careful."


    Asper nodded, a sense of peace settling over him. "I promise."


    Both sat quietly, their earlier confrontation slowly giving way to a moment of reconciliation. Katina took a deep breath, her gaze unwavering as she continued. "There''s something I need to tell you about the voice and the Cloverdel family, Asper. I think it''s time for you to learn more about our history and the Guardian Qurints."


    Asper looked puzzled, trying to process the new information. "What do you mean?"


    Katina stood up, her expression both grave and resolute. "Follow me," she said, leading him through the dojo to a concealed door he had never noticed before. The door, heavy and ancient, was adorned with the Cloverdel family crest¡ªa majestic emblem of a thunderbolt striking through a lion''s head. The crest shimmered subtly, reflecting the strength and power of the family''s lineage.


    Asper''s eyes widened in awe. "I didn''t know there was a secret basement here."


    Katina''s voice was soft but firm. "It''s been kept hidden for a reason, Asper. Only those who are truly ready and are of Cloverdel family can know about it."


    She unlocked the door with a creak that echoed in the quiet corridor, revealing a dimly lit room. Dust motes floated in the air, illuminated by a faint, eerie glow. The room was filled with cobwebs and old, dusty scrolls. Piles of aged documents and leather-bound books were scattered across wooden shelves, and an old chest sat in the corner, its surface covered in a thick layer of dust. Katina approached the chest, her hands trembling slightly as she opened it. A cloud of dust puffed out, causing them both to cough and sneeze. Asper wiped his eyes, his curiosity growing stronger as he peered inside.


    Inside the chest lay an orb, its surface glimmering with a faint blue light, and a scroll tied with a ribbon. Katina carefully lifted these items and handed them to Asper.


    "What are these things? mom." asked Asper with a puzzled expression.


    "This orb," she explained, "is the key to unlocking the Guardian Qurint. Zeus, the Thunder Guardian, is a powerful entity given to the Cloverdel family years ago. The Guardian Qurints went into hibernation after a great war to protect themselves from those who would seek to exploit their powers. Our ancestors decided to seal them away until they healed themselves completely."


    Asper furrowed his brow, puzzled. He had many questions swirling in his mind, but one stood out. "Why were they sealed?"


    "To protect them from falling into the wrong hands," Katina explained. "They would have been vulnerable to those who might misuse their power. It was safer to seal them away until they were truly needed again."


    Asper''s confusion deepened. "And what about the great war and the Qurints? This is all so overwhelming."


    "I understand, Asper," Katina said gently. "I would explain everything if I could, but even I don''t know much. And we don''t have much time. I think it''s finally time for you to go beyond these mountains and... follow your dreams."


    Asper absorbed her words, the weight of their significance settling over him. He packed his bag with the newfound artifacts and prepared to say farewell. Despite her own heartache, Katina knew this was a necessary step for her son. As she watched him, her eyes glistened with unshed tears, a mix of pride and sorrow. Asper embraced her tightly, the warmth of their connection a bittersweet comfort. "Thank you, Mom. I''ll be back, I promise."


    Katina''s voice trembled as she whispered, "Just be careful out there, Asper. Follow your heart, and know that I''m always with you."


    With one last, lingering look, Asper made his way to the mountain. The trek through the forest was both challenging and exhilarating, the path gradually ascending until he reached the top. There, the old cable car awaited, its metal frame creaking as it swung above the deep valley and the flowing river below. It was the only way to the next town.


    Asper boarded the cable car, the chilly breeze on his face a stark contrast to the warmth of his mother''s embrace. As the car began its slow journey across the chasm, he gazed out at the sprawling landscape of Darzine village, the familiar sights now appearing distant and small. In the distance, he saw Lupus V. Darzine standing at the edge of the village, waving at him. Asper returned the gesture, his heart swelling with a mixture of hope and excitement. As the cable car continued its ascent, he felt an exhilarating sense of freedom, as if he were flying alongside the birds he had always admired.


    The vast expanse of the world stretched out before him, and for the first time, Asper truly felt what it meant to be free.

 Chapter 04: Arrival at the Task Nebula Part 1

    Asper stepped off the cable car, his shoes landing on solid ground for the first time since leaving Darzine. He paused, closing his eyes for a moment to take in his surroundings. The air here was different-fresher, sharper, and free of the briny tang that always seemed to linger back home. In Darzine, where the village was surrounded by water on three sides, the scent of salt and seaweed was ever-present, clinging to clothes and mixing with the earthy scent of the village. Here, in the open highlands, the air smelled clean, like dew settling on untouched meadows, mixed with the faint scent of pine and wildflowers.


    He took a deep, deliberate breath and opened his eyes, looking out at the rolling hills and distant forests stretching as far as he could see. "Aaaaahhh... Finally! I''m free!" Asper''s shout echoed across the landscape, his voice bouncing off the towering cliffs and racing down into the valleys below. For the first time, he truly felt it-the exhilaration of stepping into the unknown, away from the constraining borders of Darzine.


    A grin spread across his face as he spun around, arms wide, taking in the view. "This... this is what freedom smells like!" He exhaled in a long breath, feeling the weight of the village, the routine, the expectation-everything-lift off his shoulders. It was a moment he''d dreamed of, imagined a thousand times. But now that he was here, a creeping realization set in.


    "Wait... where am I supposed to go now?" he muttered, scratching his head and digging through his pack. "Did I... forget the other maps?" He rummaged around with increasing urgency, only to find the one map he already knew led to the Aguan Caves. He let out a dramatic sigh, slumping a little. "Man, just my luck... First day out, and already winging it." With a shrug, he grinned to himself, mumbling, "Guess I''ll just figure it out as I go!"


    With a sigh, he looked down the mountain trail. The path was steep but clear, winding its way through a thick forest. No sense standing around, he thought, slinging his pack over his shoulder before starting down the trail with steady, cautious steps.


    As he descended, his heart raced with the thrill of finally being beyond the borders of his village. He was no longer just a boy from Darzine-he was an adventurer, with the world at his feet. The landscape shifted from rocky outcrops and hardy shrubs to a lush, vibrant forest. Towering trees, their bark twisted and ancient, lined the path. Their canopies formed a tangled web of branches and leaves that filtered the sunlight into shimmering patches of green and gold. Asper marveled at the sheer size of the trees-far larger than those back home-some with trunks wide enough to house a small cottage. Wildflowers of every color bloomed along the forest floor, filling the air with sweet, unfamiliar fragrances.


    "So, this is the world beyond Darzine" he mused, fingers trailing along the soft, velvety moss covering the trees. Everything felt alive, as though the very ground beneath him pulsed with energy. Birds with iridescent feathers flitted through the treetops, their songs strange yet melodic. Every now and then, he caught glimpses of small creatures darting between the undergrowth, too fast for him to identify.


    It wasn''t long before he stumbled upon something unexpected. The forest gave way to a large clearing, and there, standing tall in the center of it, was a structure that seemed to rise from the ground itself, like an ancient monolith. Its design was both grand and eerie, a towering building of stone and iron, with sharp, spiked spires that clawed toward the sky. The architecture was distinctly gothic-dark stone walls adorned with intricate carvings of creatures that looked half-human, half-beast, locked in eternal battle. The windows were long, narrow arches, framed with black iron that gleamed in the sunlight, giving the entire building a foreboding, yet somehow majestic, aura.


    The front gate was made of heavy iron bars, twisted into ornate patterns of leaves and vines. Despite the gate''s imposing appearance, it was open, as if welcoming adventurers into its depths. Above the entrance, carved into the very stone itself, was a symbol. Asper''s eyes locked onto it as he approached. It was unlike any crest he had ever seen-a star encased in a perfect circle, its points elongated and curved, almost like the arms of a spiral galaxy. Surrounding the star were smaller symbols, constellations perhaps, all connected by thin lines, forming a complex web. Beneath this intricate design were the words: Adventurers Guild Association: Task Nebula engraved in bold, elegant letters.


    Asper stopped for a moment, taking it all in. He had heard tales of the Adventurers Guild Association from traders passing through Darzine, but he never imagined it would be anything like this. The structure had the air of something ancient, a place where countless adventurers had come to seek fortune, glory, or perhaps their final destiny.


    He was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of music. Faint at first, but growing louder as he neared the open gate. Lively tunes played on strings and pipes, mingling with the low murmur of voices, laughter, and the clinking of mugs. The sound was inviting, like the warm glow of a fire on a cold night.


    With a gentle push, Asper swung open the trimmed batwing doors, their hinges creaking softly.


    He stepped inside.


    The interior of the building was even more breathtaking than the exterior. It was not just an inn-it was a bustling hub of activity, a melting pot of adventurers from every corner of the world. The high, vaulted ceilings were supported by thick stone columns that rose like trees, branching out at the top into intricate arches. The walls were lined with banners from various guilds, their colors and symbols telling the stories of countless quests and battles. One banner bore a crimson dragon, another displayed a silver wolf leaping through a ring of fire, and yet another showed a black raven perched atop a skull. The air inside was thick with the scent of ale, roasted meats, and freshly baked pies, mixed with the faint, metallic tang of sharpened weapons.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Massive chandeliers hung from the ceiling, their iron frames twisted into shapes resembling ancient runes, casting a warm, golden glow across the room. The center of the floor was filled with long, sturdy wooden tables, each surrounded by adventurers of all kinds. Some wore heavy armor, dented and scarred from battle, while others were dressed in lighter, more agile gear, with cloaks and hoods that concealed their faces. Swords, spears, and axes rested against the walls or lay on the tables, while bows and quivers were slung over chairs.


    Asper''s eyes darted from one adventurer to the next. A group of them sat in the corner, sharpening their blades and exchanging stories of past quests. One man, his armor gleaming under the chandelier''s light, was recounting a tale of slaying a massive beast in the northern mountains, his companions nodding and grunting in approval. At another table, a group was deep in a game of dice, their laughter filling the room as one of them slammed a fist down in triumph. Next to them, two adventurers argued over a hand of cards, one accusing the other of cheating while the rest of the table roared with laughter.


    The smells of the inn were intoxicating. The rich scent of roasted meats filled the air-juicy cuts of beef and pork served on platters alongside loaves of warm bread and steaming bowls of stew. The unmistakable smell of freshly baked pies lingered, their golden crusts still sizzling from the oven. The tang of ale, freshly poured into wooden mugs, mixed with the scents of food and smoke from the roaring fire in the hearth.


    Asper couldn''t help but smile as he watched the adventurers. There was a sense of camaraderie here, a bond forged through shared experiences, quests, and hardships. Despite the occasional argument or raised voice, the air was filled with an unspoken respect between them all.


    In the middle of it all, directly in front of Asper, stood the guild''s counter-a long, polished wooden desk behind which stood a woman who was clearly in charge of handing out quests. Her short, baby pink curls framed her face, a few loose strands brushing against her cheek, with a stylish side part that gave her an air of confidence. She wore a light pink, full-sleeve shirt with delicate embroidery along the collar and cuffs, adding a touch of elegance to her otherwise practical outfit. A dark pink belt cinched her waist, though he couldn''t see much beyond the counter, Asper guessed she might be wearing a skirt to match the rest of her ensemble. Her sharp eyes scanned the room constantly, handling one adventurer after another with swift precision. Behind her, pinned to the wall, was the quest board, covered in pieces of parchment detailing various tasks and their rewards. Some were simple jobs-deliveries, escorts, hunting down small creatures-while others promised large sums of gold for more dangerous endeavors.


    As Asper moved closer to the counter, he couldn''t help but overhear the ongoing conversation between the woman and a rather disgruntled group of adventurers.


    "We came all the way here for that job, and now you''re telling us it''s been reassigned?" one of the men growled, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.


    "I''m sorry," the woman replied calmly, not even flinching at the man''s threatening tone. "The task was reassigned to another guild. There''s nothing I can do."


    The man muttered something under his breath, clearly unhappy, but he and his companions eventually turned and left, grumbling as they disappeared into the crowd.


    Asper watched the group depart, his eyes drifting to the quest board. The variety of tasks listed made his head spin, with some rewards that looked almost too good to be true. He was so absorbed in reading that he barely noticed when the woman behind the counter addressed him.


    "First time here?" she asked, her tone warmer than it had been with the previous group.


    He blinked, then nodded. "Yeah... I just arrived."


    She smiled, giving him a quick once-over. "Welcome to the Adventurers Guild Association: Task Nebula. So, what brings you in? You on the lookout for something specific, or just exploring?"


    Asper hesitated, feeling a bit out of his depth. "Actually, I''m looking for the Aguan Caves," he said, glancing down at the counter, where a few maps were spread out.


    The receptionist followed his gaze. "Ah, the Aguan Caves," she said, a hint of curiosity in her tone. "That''s in Thunder Woods Forest-beautiful, but tricky to navigate if you''re not familiar with the area."


    He nodded, and she handed him a folded map, her eyes assessing him briefly. "Here''s the local map for this region," she explained. "You''ll find it useful. For maps of other areas, you''ll need to visit the Task Nebula branches in those regions."


    Asper opened the map, tracing his finger along the winding paths. His brow furrowed as he found his destination. "So... what''s the best way to get there?"


    The receptionist''s eyes widened slightly at the mention. "The Aguan Caves... That''s quite a trek. The safest route," she said, tapping a longer path on the map, "would take you through the Southern Hills, avoiding most dangerous territories. But it''s time-consuming."


    Asper''s face tightened with frustration. "I don''t have time to waste. What''s the fastest route?"


    She hesitated, a shadow of concern crossing her face before she sighed. "The shortest route would take you through Cornwall Village... but it''s not safe. Not at all."


    "Why not?" Asper asked, his frown deepening. He could tell there was more she wasn''t saying.


    She hesitated again, her voice dropping as she leaned in slightly, trying to sound firm but compassionate. "Kid, you''re new here. Don''t jeopardize your journey just because you want to take the fastest way. There are things happening in Cornwall Village that you don''t want to get involved in."


    Asper leaned forward, curiosity blazing in his eyes. "But what kind of things? What''s so dangerous about it?" he pressed, his instincts telling him that there was something more to the story.


    Before she could respond, a loud, drunken voice cut through the air behind him. "Sixteen guilds!" the voice slurred. "Sixteen guilds went to Cornwall Village on a request... and not a damn one came back!"

 Chapter 05: Arrival at the Task Nebula Part 2

    Asper turned sharply to see the source of the voice. A man sat hunched at a nearby table, his hair disheveled and his face flushed red from too much ale. His clothes were tattered, though they bore the markings of an experienced adventurer. A half-empty mug of ale rested precariously in his hand.


    "Sixteen guilds?" Asper repeated, incredulous. "What happened to them?"


    The drunk man-Mr. Lorne, as the receptionist later confirmed-turned his bleary gaze on Asper. "Kid, you ever heard of Cornwall Village?" He leaned forward, squinting as though trying to place Asper. "Where you from, anyway? Darzine Village, eh?"


    Asper blinked, taken aback. "Yeah, how did you-"


    "Darzine Village!" Lorne bellowed, interrupting him, slamming his mug on the table. "Do they even let people out of their cages there? Hah! You lot are scared of your own shadows!" He laughed, a harsh, mocking sound that grated on Asper''s nerves. "I was there once, a few years ago. A Qurint wandered in, but your people didn''t even know what it was! Never seen one before, too scared to face anything from outside that precious little bubble you live in!"


    Asper clenched his fists but stayed silent, unwilling to let the man''s jabs get to him.


    Lorne continued, unbothered by Asper''s reaction, waving his hand lazily. "So, you came here to play adventurer, did you? Catch a Qurint? Ha! Good luck. People from Darzine wouldn''t last a day in the real world."


    Before Asper could respond, the receptionist cut in, her voice sharp. "That''s enough, Mr. Lorne. There''s no need to insult the boy." She shot him a stern look, but Lorne only snorted in response.


    Still, Asper''s curiosity burned hotter. He leaned in toward Lorne, ignoring the man''s taunts. "What happened to the sixteen guilds? What''s going on in Cornwall Village?"


    Lorne''s mocking expression grew grim, his demeanor darkening. He looked Asper dead in the eyes, as if weighing whether to tell him the truth. "Cornwall Village... it''s under the thumb of Duke Gilles De Cornwall. But the real power? It''s a gang. They''re the ones in control. Oppressing the villagers, and from what I''ve heard, killing any guild members who come sniffing around for work. Cornwall''s just a baited trap. A place where they lure guilds in, and those poor bastards never come back."


    The receptionist''s face tightened. "Mr. Lorne, stop spreading baseless rumours. The guild members are missing, but that doesn''t mean they''re dead."


    Lorne sneered, his voice lowering to a growl. "Missing, dead... what''s the difference? I''ve seen it. Saw them dragged away like animals, one by one. Hunters, caught in their own trap."


    "That''s enough!" The receptionist''s voice snapped with authority. "We still have faith that our people are alive."


    Lorne muttered something incoherent under his breath, glaring at her. "Rylin,.. Faith won''t bring them back," he slurred, his words becoming muddled. His head drooped as he struggled to stay upright, the effects of the alcohol finally overpowering him. He tried to say something more, a final angry remark, but before he could finish, his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed onto the table, his mug spilling onto the floor.


    Asper sat in silence for a moment, overwhelmed by the weight of what he''d just learned. Sixteen guilds, all gone? What kind of danger lay in Cornwall Village?This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    He stood up, preparing to leave, but Rylin-the receptionist-called out to him.


    "Kid," she said softly, her tone now filled with concern, "I have a feeling you''ll take the route through Cornwall anyway. Just... try to avoid trouble, alright?"


    Asper scratched the back of his head, giving a sheepish grin. "Was it that obvious? I''ll do my best to stay out of it."


    She shook her head, but there was a small, knowing smile on her lips. "Just be careful."


    With that, Asper made his way out of the inn. The fresh air hit him like a slap to the face, shaking him out of his daze. He made his way through the thick underbrush, the last vestiges of Task Nebula''s inn now far behind him. The dense forest surrounded him with towering trees and damp earth beneath his feet, and he could just make out a muddy trail ahead that marked the road to Cornwall Village. He''d been pushing through the woods for nearly half an hour, sidestepping brambles and trying to keep his nerves steady.


    The sound of his own footsteps became oddly comforting, blending with the rustling of leaves and the occasional distant bird call. As he finally broke through a wall of thick foliage, he stumbled onto a wide, muddy path. "This must be the road," he muttered, wiping the sweat from his brow. He took a moment to catch his breath, glancing down at his muddied shoes, and took one step forward-right onto something soft and furry.


    A low, menacing growl pierced the silence.


    Asper''s eyes widened as he looked down to see the swishing tail of a Suntooth Leopard, its barbed tip twitching in irritation. The creature had been lying in wait, its sleek, spotted body blending almost perfectly with the mud and shadows, eyes now glowing with fury as they locked onto Asper.


    "Oh no," he whispered, already feeling his legs tense, ready to flee.


    The leopard''s growl grew louder as it raised itself to full height, ears pinned back, and muscles coiled to strike. Asper bolted, barely evading its first swipe, and ran with all his might down the path, arms pumping as he tore through the air.


    "What is wrong with my luck?!" he yelled, dodging a stray root and trying to keep his balance. His breath came in ragged gasps as he glanced back, seeing the leopard swiftly closing the gap. "I just wanted to get to the village, not be lunch!"


    Ahead, a figure appeared on the road, walking calmly, as though unaware of the chaos barreling toward him. Asper could make out the shape of a man in a black t-shirt with military-style pants, caked in dust and mud. The man''s slicked-back hair was a muddy brown, contrasting with his weathered, rectangular face that looked as though it had seen a few too many skirmishes. He appeared to be in his early forties, his expression calm, hands resting on the hilt of a long sword hanging at his waist.


    "Help me!" Asper screamed, still sprinting. The man raised an eyebrow, his eyes assessing the scene with a cold calculation, then casually reached for his sword. Without a word, he took a step forward, timing his movement precisely as Asper raced past him. In one fluid motion, the man spun, swinging the hilt of his sword squarely into the leopard''s head, striking it with a solid thud. The leopard collapsed in a heap, unconscious.


    Asper skidded to a stop, panting heavily as he doubled over, hands on his knees. He glanced back to see the leopard sprawled out, and heaved a sigh of relief, dropping to the ground. "Thanks for that," he managed between breaths, looking up at the man with an appreciative smile.


    The man walked over slowly, his boots crunching on the gravelly path. Asper held out his hand, expecting help to get up. But the man stopped just short, a wicked smirk spreading across his lips.


    "Bad luck really seems to follow you, doesn''t it, adventurer?" the man sneered, his voice dripping with dark amusement.


    Asper managed a weak smile, ready to thank him, but the man''s expression shifted, and suddenly, his sword was at Asper''s neck. The cold steel pressed just enough to send a chill through him, cutting off any words he might have had.


    Asper''s heart skipped a beat as he stared up, wide-eyed. "Wh-what... what''re you doing?" he stammered, his mind struggling to process the sudden shift from savior to threat.


    The man remained silent, his grip on the sword hilt tightening, his gaze sharp and unreadable.


    Asper blinked, his mind racing. "What... what''s the meaning of this?"

 Chapter 06: The Meetings Part 1

    Asper stared up, his heart racing as the man''s blade pressed cold against his neck. He gulped, barely finding his voice. "Wh-what... what''re you doing?" he stammered, his voice faltering.


    The man''s smirk deepened, eyes gleaming with a dark amusement. "What am I doing?" he echoed, drawing out the words with a mocking air. "Eliminating a possible threat, I think. That''s what it looks like, right, boys?" He glanced over his shoulder, and just as he did, two masked men in dark, close-fitting suits appeared beside him as if summoned from thin air.


    Asper''s breath hitched at the sight of them, and his body tensed as their hands clamped down on his arms, holding him firmly. "H-hey, let go!" he protested, twisting and struggling against their grip, but their hold was like iron.


    Ignoring Asper''s resistance, the man sheathed his sword with a deliberate, metallic click. "So, Red-haired fool," he sneered, "which guild are you with? The Magnificent? Knights of Glory? Or maybe just some low-level bounty hunter who thought he''d make a quick coin off the prize?"


    "Guild? Bounty?" Asper repeated, his confusion genuine as he struggled to catch his breath. "I don''t know what you''re talking about! I''m just passing through¡ªjust a traveler!"


    "Just a traveler?" the man repeated, his laugh harsh and cutting. "You expect me to believe that? A real traveler would''ve avoided this route entirely. What''s the rush? Something important enough to risk your neck?"


    Asper''s eyes flickered with desperation. "I¡ªI''m in a hurry, alright?" he said, heart pounding faster as he strained against the masked men''s relentless grip.


    The man raised an eyebrow, a dark glint in his eyes. "In a hurry, huh? Hurried for your death?" He gave a short laugh, then turned to one of his lackeys. "Gash, check his bag."


    At the mention of this, Asper''s entire body tensed, and he jerked against his captors, fear lacing his voice. "No! Don''t touch my bag¡ªit''s got... it''s got important things in it!"


    The man raised his hand, signaling to stop, his smile growing sinister. "Important, you say? All the more reason for us to see what you''re hiding." Moving forward despite Asper''s struggles, he ripped the bag from Asper''s grasp with a swift, practiced motion.


    Asper''s heart sank as he watched the man pull out a crinkled map and a small, polished orb glinting in the faint light. The man''s eyes widened slightly before his lips curved into a triumphant grin. "Well, well," he said, admiring his find. "Looks like laying a trap for bounty hunters pays off. Gash, Slash"¡ªhe motioned toward the men¡ª"take the kid and the Suntooth Leopard to the dungeon. I''ve got an interesting little treasure to show the Boss."


    Before Asper could react, the man seemed to melt into the air, vanishing so swiftly that Asper barely registered his absence. Panic crashed over him like a wave as the two masked men, Gash and Slash, seized his arms, forcing him to his knees. They swiftly bound his wrists, the rough ropes biting into his skin.


    "Let me go! I said, let me go!" Asper shouted, twisting his shoulders and struggling against their iron grips. His voice was sharp and desperate, but the men ignored him, pulling him toward the rocky ground as he thrashed, his feet scraping against the dirt in a helpless attempt to break free. Feeling his heart pound with growing terror, he turned his head, catching sight of the Suntooth Leopard lying still a few paces away.


    "Hey! Hey, Leopard! Wake up! Come on, buddy¡ªhelp me out here!" Asper''s voice was desperate as he called out, hoping the creature might somehow stir. But the Leopard remained motionless, its sleek form sprawled on the ground, unresponsive.


    The two men exchanged a dry chuckle as they continued dragging both Asper and the Leopard down the rocky path. "Pitiful thing''s not coming to your rescue," Gash sneered, giving Asper a hard yank forward.


    "Keep talking, he''ll just keep squirming," muttered Slash, his voice low and bored as he tightened the ropes around Asper''s wrists. Each twist bit into Asper''s skin, the rough fibers digging deep, making every tug all the more painful. With no choice, Asper was forced to stumble forward, the men dragging him by the ropes as they hauled the limp Suntooth Leopard alongside.


    Gash shoved him, grumbling as they moved, and Asper cast a glance over his shoulder, desperate for any sign of hope. "Let go!" he yelled, trying to pull his wrists free, but they yanked the ropes hard, almost knocking him to the ground.


    Just as his frustration peaked, a faint boom echoed from somewhere behind. Asper froze, his heart leaping at the sound, but Gash and Slash didn''t seem to notice right away. Then, in one swift moment, both men crumpled to the ground with heavy thuds, their grip on the ropes vanishing.


    Asper spun around, bewildered, only to see a figure emerging from a thin veil of smoke that hung in the air¡ªa boy, probably a couple of years older than Asper, his eyes sharp and focused. He wore a dark green yukata, the traditional Japanese-style robe shifting subtly with each movement. Both of his forearms were wrapped in bandages that hinted at either scars or a toughened style choice. A katana glinted in his hand, his stance calm yet ready.


    Before Asper could fully take in the sight, another presence slipped from the smoke to stand beside the swordsman. It was a younger boy with orange hair, shorter and with a mischievous grin stretched across his face. Wisps of smoke coiled lazily from his palms, adding an eerie glow to his already intense energy. His eyes sparkled with a fierce delight, as if the chaos before him was nothing short of thrilling.


    Asper looked down at his kidnappers sprawled out cold on the ground, then back at the two boys who''d taken them down. "Uh... am I in even bigger trouble now?" he asked, glancing nervously between them.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!


    Ignoring him, the younger boy turned to the one with the katana. "See, Big bro? All thanks to this red-haired fool, our plan''s ruined. We could''ve had Fallow right here, the right-hand man of Scarhead!"


    "Excuse me!" Asper burst out, feeling a surge of annoyance. "Who''re you calling ''fool,'' you little... uh... pipsqueak?"


    The kid''s grin widened, clearly enjoying himself. "Yeah, you, Mr. Red Hair. You went and tripped right into the middle of our setup! He thought we were falling for his trap, and then you blundered in and¡ª"


    "Trap?" Asper spluttered. "So, you mean this whole disaster''s because of you guys? Hunters... traps... I almost got kidnapped because you two were just messing around?!"


    Rio snickered, crossing his arms. "No, no, no, Red Hair. You got yourself caught because of your own idiocy. Who trips over a tail and gets snatched by a bad guy, seriously?"


    Asper glared, fists clenched, stomping toward the kid. "Hey! I am not an idiot! And stop calling me Red Hair!"


    Rio smirked, taking a step closer, undeterred. "And I''ll keep calling you that, Red Hair. Got a problem?"


    They both leaned in, faces inches apart, each daring the other to make the first move. It was like two pups growling in a standoff.


    Zenji, the swordsman, let out an exasperated sigh and stepped between them. "Rio, that''s enough," he said, shooting the younger boy a look. Then he turned to Asper, his tone calm but firm. "Forget what he said. He''s just... blunt. It''s nothing personal."


    Asper blinked, still fuming but a bit thrown by Zenji''s calm tone. "Oh... uh... right," he muttered, scratching his head as the anger quickly faded. "Guess you''re not all bad."


    Rio rolled his eyes but smirked. "Yeah, not so tough now, huh, Mr. Red Hair?"


    "Oh, that''s it!" Asper lunged toward him, fists clenched, only to stop mid-lunge and crack a grin. Laughter erupted between them, the tension dissolving as quickly as it had flared up.


    Zenji shook his head. "Enough, Rio. Apologize."


    Rio gave an exaggerated sigh and extended his hand to Asper. "Fine. Sorry, Red¡ªAsper." His tone wasn''t insincere, but it was clear he wasn''t thrilled about the apology


    Asper, still amused, took his hand. "It''s fine. I''m Asper. Asper J. Bancroft."


    Rio''s eyes lit up as he shook Asper''s hand. "Nice to meet you, Asper! I''m Rio Beringer," he said with an exaggerated flourish, "and this here is big bro, Zenji Kamigai!"


    Zenji gave a slight nod, keeping his calm demeanor. "Pleasure."


    "So," Rio asked, glancing around, "where''s the famous Asper heading next?"


    "Cornwall village," Asper said, his eyes brightening. "I''ve got something important I need to get back."


    "Looks like we''re all headed that way," Zenji said thoughtfully, exchanging a knowing glance with Rio.


    "Guess we''re road buddies now!" Rio clapped Asper on the shoulder with a playful grin. "Just keep up with us this time! Wouldn''t want to have to save you again, Red-Haired Asper."


    Asper laughed, rubbing the back of his neck, but before he could respond, he noticed Rio crouching down and rummaging through the unconscious, masked men''s belongings.


    Asper tilted his head, watching in confusion. "Uh... what exactly are you doing?"


    "Borrowing their outfits," Rio replied, tugging off one of the men''s suits. "These''ll come in handy for a little... infiltration."


    "Infiltration?" Asper asked, intrigued. "What exactly do you guys do?"


    Rio grinned, draping the suit over his shoulder. "We''re bounty hunters. We catch bad guys and cash in on the prize money, gifts, you name it." He gave a dramatic pause. "But this is just a side gig. We''ve got bigger plans."


    Asper''s curiosity sparked. "Bounty hunters, huh? I''m more of an explorer myself! My dream is to become the greatest explorer in history!"


    Rio let out a chuckle. "Greatest explorer, huh?" He raised an eyebrow. "So, where''s your crew, Asper?"


    Asper blinked, caught off guard. "Crew? Uh... well, I was kind of thinking I''d go solo, you know..."


    Rio looked at him with a mix of amusement and pity. "Solo? You think you''re just gonna wander around alone and be the world''s greatest explorer?"


    "Why not?" Asper replied, feeling a little defensive. "I can handle myself! I mean, usually..."


    Rio laughed, a full, hearty laugh. "You can''t survive a single day alone! Trust me, you need friends, people who''ve got your back. Who else are you gonna share your adventures with? Exploration isn''t worth much if you''re doing it alone."


    Asper scratched his head, feeling oddly struck by Rio''s words. He hadn''t considered the idea of having a crew¡ªcompanions who''d share the journey with him.


    "I... never thought about it that way," he admitted slowly.


    Rio clapped him on the back with a grin. "Well, think about it, Asper. Friends make the adventure worth living."


    Asper managed a sheepish grin, the idea beginning to grow on him. "Alright, alright. You''ve made your point."


    Rio turned his attention to the Suntooth Leopard, still lying unconscious nearby. With a quick motion, he pulled out his knife and cut through the ropes binding it.


    Asper''s eyes widened. "Why are you freeing it? That thing nearly shredded us!"


    Rio shook his head, chuckling. "Man, you stepped on its tail. That''s why it attacked. Suntooth Leopards are usually friendly and harmless to humans."


    "Oh..." glancing at the leopard with a newfound guilt. "Guess I owe it an apology."


    Zenji, who had been observing with an amused expression, stepped forward, a hint of a smile in his usually stoic gaze. "Then let''s get going to Cornwall Village."


    Just then, the leopard let out a soft groan as it stirred, then darted off into the woods, seemingly unbothered. The three watched it disappear into the trees before Rio gave Asper another nudge.


    "C''mon, Red-Haired Explorer. Let''s get moving before you run into any more ''harmless'' creatures."


    "Yeah!" said Asper with a soft chuckle.

 Chapter 07: The Meetings Part 2

    The air was warm and bright as they neared Cornwall village, the noonday sun casting a golden glow over the thick rows of crops lining the winding dirt path. On the horizon, towering over the rolling fields, Asper could make out the village''s outer walls, their texture and shape unlike anything he''d ever seen before. The walls rose high, each brick carved to resemble kernels of corn, stacked in a mesmerizing pattern that almost glowed golden in the sunlight. The walls, designed with painstaking detail to mimic an ear of corn, gave the village its name¡ªCornwall.


    Asper stopped for a moment, taking in the sight, his mouth curving into an admiring grin. "So this is Cornwall village, huh? Nothing like back home..."


    Rio, beside him, nodded approvingly. "Yeah, not bad, right? The villagers are pretty proud of those walls. They say every brick was carved by hand."


    Zenji, ever stoic, merely observed in silence, though a glint in his eye showed he was quietly impressed. They continued on, the fields around them revealing rows upon rows of tall corn stalks swaying gently in the breeze, their golden heads rustling with each gust. Yet something felt strangely off¡ªthe fields were deserted, and there wasn''t a single soul in sight.


    The silence grew unsettling as they entered the village limits, passing the small, empty cottages and more endless stretches of cornfields.


    Asper''s brow furrowed. "Isn''t it a little... quiet? Where is everyone?"


    Rio shrugged, though even he seemed wary. "Maybe it''s just an off day, or a festival somewhere?"


    Zenji scanned their surroundings, alert as ever. "Let''s see if we can find someone at the inn."


    Just then, a thin wisp of smoke drifted up from behind a set of wooden cottages, visible over a thick clump of cornfields. It twisted up lazily, as though from a chimney.


    "There." Zenji pointed toward the smoke, a hint of resolve in his voice.


    They made their way toward the source, their footsteps muffled by the earth. The inn was a modest building made of worn timber, with a faded sign swinging above the door that simply read "The Corn Crib." Inside, the warm glow of the hearth and the scent of hearty stew filled the air. The inn''s interior was cozy but plain, with wooden tables and chairs arranged neatly along the walls and a bar counter stretching across one side of the room.


    Behind the counter, a young woman in simple nun''s attire worked swiftly, her head bent as she ladled soup into bowls. Her dark hair was tucked under a white wimple, and a serene expression softened her features as she moved with quiet grace. Next to her, a middle-aged man with a short beard and kindly eyes, dressed in modest clergyman''s robes, was standing there with a warm smile. His robes were an earthy brown with a white sash tied around his waist, giving him an air of quiet authority and kindness.


    But what caught Asper''s eye were the two figures seated at the counter.


    The first was a massive man, larger than any ordinary human, with his entire form swathed in layers of heavy, dark clothing. His head and face were wrapped with a large scarf, and a thick hood was drawn over his head, hiding all. His shoulders were broad, and his gloved hands gripped a tankard of ale that looked comically small in his massive grasp.


    Beside him sat a little girl, small and dainty in comparison, yet her presence was equally mysterious. She wore a simple frock that reached her knees and a knitted cap that framed her round, cherubic face. She sipped from a small cup of what looked like milk, her legs swinging from the high stool as she hummed quietly to herself. Though they were seated together, neither spoke, as if each was lost in their own world.


    Asper couldn''t help but stare, intrigued by the strange pair. He whispered to Rio, "That guy...he''s huge. And why''s he all covered up like that?"


    Rio shrugged, his eyes wide with the same curiosity. "Beats me. Probably got a reason. And the kid doesn''t look phased, so he must be okay, right?"


    As Zenji, Rio, and Asper stepped in, the clergyman''s eyes went wide. His hands trembled as he stared at Zenji and Rio, who, in their disguise as Gash and Slash, looked all too familiar.


    "Please... we still don''t have enough money," he stammered, his voice laced with fear. "Just... just give us a bit more time."


    The massive man at the counter went rigid, his hand slipping under the layers of his robe to what looked like the hilt of a weapon. Zenji, sharp as ever, had already noticed, and his fingers drifted cautiously to the handle of his own sword.


    Before tension could escalate further, Rio pulled down his mask, flashing an easy grin. "Whoa, easy there, old man. We''re not with the Scarhead Gang."


    The clergyman''s relief was instant. "Oh, thank the Lord," he murmured, his hand clutching his chest. "Are you... are you sent by the Adventurers Guild Association?"


    Rio straightened, giving a mock-salute. "You bet. We''re here to take down your village''s headache¡ªScarhead Gang''s Leader Boko Salerno."


    The clergyman''s face fell, his initial relief crumbling into worry. "But... why are they only sending kids? You''re too young to stand against him. This gang... they''re ruthless. Lord above, please send someone who can truly save us from these hard times..."


    Rio scoffed, crossing his arms. "Old man, don''t underestimate us. We''ll capture Boko Salerno and end this nightmare, one way or another."


    Before the clergyman could argue further, Asper''s stomach let out an embarrassingly loud growl, breaking the tension. Mira, the nun looked up, her face softening as she glanced at them.


    "Please, have a seat, boys," she said warmly. "You must have traveled a long way. Let''s get you some food."


    Asper, cheeks red, nodded sheepishly and hurried over to the counter. The three of them took seats, Asper sat closest to the giant man, Rio in the middle, and Zenji at the far end, silently scanning the room.


    Mira set three steaming bowls of soup in front of them without even asking what they wanted, giving a small apologetic smile. "We don''t have much, given the current situation, but I hope this will be enough."This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    They thanked her and started eating, savoring the warmth of the soup. Just as the quiet resumed, the little girl next to the giant man tugged at his sleeve.


    "Nobu, more milk?" she asked sweetly, holding up her empty cup.


    The man shook his head, his deep voice a low rumble. "No, Cherrie. Let everyone else have their share first."


    Cherrie''s face scrunched up in disappointment. She started to shake his arm, her pout deepening. "But Nobu, I want more! Just a little!"


    In her efforts, she pulled on the man''s thick outer cloak, tugging it down enough to reveal his face. Asper let out a startled yell, nearly dropping his spoon.


    "AHHH! A talking panda!" he blurted out, eyes wide with shock.


    The man immediately tried to readjust his coverings, his large, furry paw tugging at his cloak. "I am not a panda!" he grumbled in irritation.


    Rio snickered, nudging Asper. "Yeah, he''s not a panda. Clearly, he''s a..." Rio paused, searching for a random animal, "...a giant raccoon?"


    The cloaked man let out a low growl, an unmistakable bear-like rumble that made the bowls on the counter tremble. "I''m not a raccoon either. I am a bear."


    Asper''s jaw dropped. "Wait, how are you... talking?"


    Rio smacked his forehead, laughing. "Asper, have you seriously never seen a Zoanthrope before? What, did you grow up in a cave?"


    Cherrie giggled, clearly entertained by Asper''s confusion. Nobu, realizing the disguise was now pointless, sighed and pulled off his cloak, revealing his true form¡ªa towering, anthropomorphic white bear. His fur was sleek and snow-white, and underneath his robes, he wore a blue and red samurai-like outfit with intricate designs. He wore three swords¡ªtwo strapped across his back, and one at his waist, giving him a formidable look.


    Satisfied to be out of disguise, he nodded to them. "Since you''re here to take down Boko Salerno, perhaps we should work together. I am Nobu Kumajin, swordsman of The Magnificent Guild."


    Rio''s eyes widened. "No way, The Magnificent Guild? You guys are famous!" He pointed to himself with a grin. "I''m Rio Beringer."


    Zenji gave a respectful nod. "Zenji Kamigai."


    Still looking awed, "Asper J. Bancroft," Asper said with a grin. "Though, honestly, I just want to get my bag back from that thief, Fallow."


    At the mention of Fallow, the clergyman Winfreth, Mira, and Nobu exchanged looks of surprise.


    "You encountered Fallow... and survived?" Winfreth asked, astonished.


    Rio interrupted with a playful scowl, nudging Asper. "He only survived because he messed up our plan to catch him."


    Asper frowned, crossing his arms. "Alright, alright, you can stop bringing that up every five seconds."


    Cherrie piped up with a bright grin, crossing her arms. "Hey, aren''t you guys forgetting about me? I haven''t introduced myself yet!" She lifted her chin with a proud smile. "I''m Cherrie, and I''m a princess of a big kingdom!"


    Asper and Rio shared a grin, thinking she was playing pretend. "A princess, huh?" Rio chuckled. "And what kingdom might that be?"


    Cherrie''s cheeks turned red, puffing up as she glared at them. "You guys are just clowns! I mean it¡ªstop laughing!"


    Her outburst only made them laugh harder, and Zenji couldn''t help but crack a small smile. Nobu gave a deep, rumbling chuckle and patted her head.


    "Well, Princess Cherrie, it looks like you''ve found your royal jesters," he said with a wink, making her pout even more.


    The lively banter continued, filling the inn with warmth and laughter, a momentary relief.


    The laughter faded as Zenji shifted the tone. "Tell me, how did things in Cornwall get this bad? And where is Salerno?"


    Winfreth''s face fell, his earlier smile fading as he glanced over his shoulder. "It all started after Duke Elroy''s death. His son, Duke Gilles, took over but lacked any of his father''s wisdom. He gambled away the royal treasury, drank excessively, and spent what was left on... unsavory pursuits. When he''d driven the coffers dry, he raised taxes and commanded soldiers to seize anything valuable the villagers had."


    Mira sighed, lowering her eyes. "When we tried to resist, he brought the Scarhead Gang in to keep us in line. Boko Salerno has free reign now; the Duke''s become a puppet in their hands. Any hunter or adventurer brave enough to answer our plea has been captured¡ªor worse."


    Winfreth continued in a haunted voice. "They''ve taken almost every able-bodied man from our village, locking them up or forcing them into hard labor. Most women barely leave their homes... and heaven help any that cross paths with the Duke."


    Zenji''s jaw clenched. "And Salerno? Is he in the Duke''s estate?"


    "Yes," Winfreth confirmed, nodding gravely. "He lives in that mansion like a king, with guards and gang members patrolling night and day. Anything that gets stolen in this village is taken there."


    Hearing that, Asper''s face fell. "So... my bag''s probably there, too," he muttered, clenching his fists. "I have to get it back¡ªit''s urgent."


    Zenji and Rio exchanged glances, nodding in silent agreement. They rose to leave when Nobu spoke up, reaching out a hand.


    "Hold on! Don''t go alone. These guys are more dangerous than you realize," Nobu urged, standing to his full, towering height. "If we go together, we have a real chance. You know the saying¡ªunited we stand, divided we fall."


    Asper hesitated, eyes fixed on the floor. "Thanks, Nobu... but I have to get my bag. It''s really important."


    Rio patted Asper''s shoulder, nodding. "We''ll take them down together, don''t worry."


    As they started moving toward the door, Nobu stepped outside with them, followed by Winfreth, Mira, and Cherrie. Nobu called after them, "If you go in alone, you''ll just be walking into your own death. These people won''t show mercy."


    Mira added, her voice concerned, "The estate''s heavily guarded. It''s practically impossible to get close without them noticing..."


    As they talked, Nobu lifted Cherrie onto his shoulders, her legs dangling comfortably as she clung to his head. He added, "Look, let''s work together. With our skills, we stand a chance of taking them down and freeing the village."


    Asper opened his mouth to reply, but a sudden shift in his gaze brought him to a halt. In the distance, a girl with dark skin and a cascade of curly hair approached, gripping her arm tightly, wincing with every step. Flanking her were two figures: a boy with long, dark hair tied loosely back, part of his face obscured by a lock that hung over one eye, and a second boy with short, silver-gray hair, dressed in a brown jacket layered over a plain tee.


    Asper''s focus zeroed in on the boy with the silver-gray hair, who seemed equally transfixed by Asper''s presence. The intensity in both their gazes sharpened they froze, as if recognizing an old enemy.


    Neither said a word at first, but something unspoken passed between them. Then, as though a dam had burst, both boys sprang forward, charging at each other with fierce, unyielding determination. Fury blazing in their eyes, their fists clenched, their voices echoing across the clearing.


    The silver-haired boy shouted, voice raw with a mix of anger, "Asperrrrr!"


    "Ivooooo!" Asper roared, his own anger burning.


    They stopped just inches apart, fists tightly coiled, every muscle in their bodies tense, faces inches away from each other, both ready to strike at a moment''s notice.

 Chapter 08: Lines of Conflict Part 1

    One Hour Ago


    A grand hallway stretched before Boko Salerno, lined with dim, flickering chandeliers casting long shadows across the polished marble floor. The walls were covered with old tapestries depicting battles and the twisted faces of nobles locked in eternal stares, while heavy, gilded frames held portraits of grim-faced ancestors, their eyes seeming to follow him. A long, red carpet stretched down the middle, its gold-edged borders fraying in spots. Boko''s footsteps made no sound on it, but the force of his stride was clear¡ªhe wasn''t in a good mood.


    Boko Salerno was an imposing figure. His massive, muscular frame seemed almost too large for his tailored suit¡ªa maroon vest lined with black, straining over his broad chest. His crisp white shirt was rolled up to his elbows, revealing forearms thick with muscle, crisscrossed by scars that hinted at a life lived on the edge of violence. A maroon tie hung loosely, as if it couldn''t dare restrict his neck, which was as thick as a tree trunk. His bald head gleamed under the chandelier light, the harsh glare highlighting a series of jagged scars and stitches, each one marking some brutal chapter in his past. But the most unnerving part was his eyes; they seemed to stare in two different directions due to a strange eye disease, making his intense gaze look even wilder. Long earlobes dangled down, swaying slightly with each step.


    Beside him walked a figure dressed in a dark, full-body suit, slim and silent as a shadow. Covered head to toe in a suit dotted with sharp, metallic spikes and points, like he''d dressed in thorns, catching the light and giving him a sinister, jagged outline. The figure''s name was Spike¡ªa man as elusive as he was obedient, though his thin frame looked deceptively fragile next to the bulk of Boko.


    Boko''s lips twisted into a snarl as he muttered under his breath, his voice low but laced with barely restrained anger. "That damned Duke Gilles... always with the demands. Every day, something new. Can''t a man breathe without being summoned?"


    Spike cast a cautious glance at his towering companion, the spikes on his suit glinting as he turned. "The Duke does hold you in high regard, Sir. But... he''s restless. He wants to ensure everything is under control. It''s his nature."


    Boko clenched his fists, his thick fingers curling until his knuckles turned white. "Under control? I run this place. Me. Not Gilles, not his little pets." He stopped abruptly, his wild gaze darting around the empty hallway. ""Where the hell are Scuttle and Fallow? I told them to keep watch."


    Spike hesitated, his voice steady but tense. "Scuttle was on lookout, but... no one''s seen him for a while. As for Fallow, he went to track down a bounty hunter. Word came in that someone was after the bounty on your head."


    Boko''s eyes flared. "After my head?" His voice was a guttural growl, the words scraping out like metal on stone. "Who? Was it Balthazar? Gathaspa? Melchior?" His tone was mocking, though each name carried a weight of recognition¡ªand annoyance.


    Spike shook his head. "No, none of them. It''s someone new, we don''t¡ª"


    Before he could finish, Boko''s fist shot out with a brutal speed that belied his size. The blow landed squarely on Spike''s chest, sending him flying backward with bone-jarring force. He slammed into the wall with such impact that his outline pressed into the wood paneling, his spikes leaving dents around him.


    Boko''s booming voice filled the hall. "And you think I''m worried about some nobody? Some two-bit hunter? Do you really think any Tom, Dick, or Harry can take me down? Is that what you think?" He stepped forward, his voice turning into a low, dangerous growl. "I am not some easy target."


    Spike staggered to his feet slowly, breathing hard, his spikes now bent and dented from the impact, he didn''t dare to speak.


    Without another word, Boko turned sharply and continued down the hallway, his pace quickening as he approached a set of heavy, ornate double doors. He pushed them open with a rough shove, entering his private room¡ªa vast space with a grand desk at its center. Behind the desk, an entire wall was replaced with an enormous glass window, offering a view of the estate grounds and the corn fields beyond. Sunlight spilled into the room, casting harsh shadows across piles of wealth strewn carelessly on the floor: stacks of gold and silver, strings of glinting jewels, valuable antiques gathering dust among sheaves of documents and half-unrolled maps.


    Boko moved behind his desk, his large hands pressing down on its surface as he leaned forward, taking a moment to stare out of the window, breathing heavily, his anger barely cooling.


    "Spike!" he barked, not even turning around.


    The battered figure approached the doorway cautiously, his posture tense. "Yes, sir?"


    Boko didn''t glance back as he spoke, his voice a harsh whisper. "Find Fallow. And if Scuttle doesn''t show up soon, consider him found too. I don''t need ghosts who vanish when there''s work to be done. Understood?"


    Spike nodded, though he quickly realized Boko wasn''t looking, then stammered out a reply. "Understood, sir. I''ll try to contact them."


    Boko''s lips curled into a grin, though it held no warmth. "Good. And make sure no more of these ''nobodies'' are after my head. Gilles might be impatient, but I''m not about to hand him my life on a silver platter."


    Spike gave a low nod before turning away, eager to leave the room and escape the volatile presence of his employer.


    As the doors swung shut, Boko settled into his chair, glancing down at the scattered wealth around him with a smirk. "Nobody''s taking me down," he muttered to himself, half amused, half furious.


    He was still surveying his scattered piles of treasure when Fallow entered the room, his lean form appearing in the doorway with quiet confidence. Despite his cool demeanor, there was an edge to his steps, a readiness that came from years of hard living. Boko''s gaze softened slightly, though his fists were still clenched.


    "Fallow," he grunted, though there was an unmistakable hint of respect in his tone. They''d been through hell and back together, allies through the thickest of fights. Few people could handle his temper, but Fallow was one of them.


    "Boko," Fallow greeted with a nod, his own voice calm. "Looks like Duke Gilles is pushing you harder than usual."Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    Boko sneered, the mention of Gilles reigniting his irritation. "That fat pervert doesn''t know when to quit. Always wants more, like he''s entitled to it. If he wasn''t so well-connected, I''d have taken him out by now."


    Fallow shrugged, leaning against the wall casually. "Doesn''t help that the villagers are barely scraping by. Nobody''s picking up their requests for help. Gilles is bleeding them dry."


    "Of course they''re not." Boko scoffed, running a hand over his bald scalp in frustration. "Why would any decent guild take a quest from people who can''t pay? I''d handle Gilles myself if I didn''t need his damned connections." He clenched his jaw, a dangerous glint in his eye. "But it''s only a matter of time. Once I''ve put down some of the big guilds¡ªRaven''s Curse, maybe even the Honor of Gods¡ªthe GHOULS will have to take me seriously. And when they do, I''ll finally have the leverage to take out that fat pig."


    Fallow crossed his arms, smirking slightly. "In the meantime, you keep squeezing these villagers for every last coin?"


    "Only way I''ll get enough to keep Gilles happy," Boko muttered, his expression hardening.


    Fallow sighed. "Well, I''ve got something that might interest you. Just came across it today." He reached into his bag, pulling out an orb and a crumpled map he''d stolen from Asper, eyes glinting with excitement.


    But before he could place them on the desk, there was a sudden, loud crack¡ªsomething hard and fast struck the window behind Boko, narrowly missing his head and whizzing past Fallow. Instinctively, Fallow''s hand flashed to his sword, slicing through the rock mid-air as he sidestepped.


    "Didn''t know rocks were falling from the sky now," Boko growled, whipping around to face the window.


    Fallow glanced out, eyes narrowing as he spotted something more alarming¡ªa wave of rocks, dozens upon dozens, hovering in the air just outside, aimed directly at the window.


    "Boko, get down!" he shouted, diving behind a nearby chair just as Boko ducked down behind his desk.


    A barrage of rocks crashed through the massive glass window, shards and debris spraying across the room. Glass splintered, furniture splintered, and Boko''s prized possessions tumbled from shelves. The once-luxurious room was left in chaos, the floor littered with broken valuables, crushed papers, and jagged glass.


    As the rain of stones finally ceased, Boko rose from his cover, breathing heavily, fury radiating from his entire body. His veins bulged against his neck and arms as he clenched his fists, his face twisted in rage.


    He stalked toward the shattered window, looking down through the broken frame. Standingbelow on the estate grounds was a young boy with silver-gray hair, his expression fierce and unwavering. Boko''s gaze fell on a distinctive tattoo snaking across the boy''s chest¡ªa serpent winding around his torso, its bodycoiling up from under his shirt and its head resting just at his neck, as if poised to strike.


    Boko scowled. "Kid, you''ve just made the biggest mistake of your life," he shouted, voice filled with menace. "Do you even know who you''re messing with? I''m Boko ''The Scarhead'' Salerno!"


    The boy''s gaze didn''t waver. He stood there, arms crossed, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "And I''m Ivo ''The Magnificent'' Gadall," he called back, his voice strong and clear. "This ends now, Boko. I''m done letting you terrorize people!"


    Boko''s eyes narrowed, his fury replaced by a cold smile. "Big words for a kid who''s just throwing rocks. I''m going to enjoy teaching you a lesson."


    Ivo''s voice rose, unwavering. "I won''t let you take advantage of innocent people anymore! I''m here to make sure you never hurt anyone else again."


    Boko let out a dark laugh, glancing at Fallow. "Look at this kid¡ªthinks he''s some hero." His voice lowered, almost to a growl. "Well, let''s teach him what happens to ''heroes'' who step into the wrong territory."


    With a powerful leap, Boko jumped from the shattered floor above, slamming down onto the ground with such force that the earth itself seemed to quake. Cracks spiderwebbed out from where he landed, the impact leaving a small crater beneath his feet as dust and fragments of rock flew into the air. He straightened, his eyes locked onto Ivo, who readied himself, taking a steady stance as he prepared to face the notorious Boko Salerno.


    Boko sneered, rolling his broad shoulders. "Kid, get ready for a real beating." Each step he took toward Ivo left a dent in the ground, his weight and force pressing deep into the earth with every stride.


    Ivo narrowed his eyes, determination steeling his features as he rose slightly off the ground, two medium-sized rocks hovering just beneath his feet like a makeshift jetpack. With a burst of energy, he shot upwards, deftly avoiding Boko''s incoming punch, his small frame darting around the larger man like an annoying insect.


    Boko''s fists flew, each punch cracking through the air with lethal force, but Ivo was too quick, weaving and dodging in mid-air. He turned upside down, flipped over Boko''s head, and landed on his broad back, slapping him playfully on the bald crown before bounding back in front of him.


    "Come on, ''Scarhead''! Thought you were supposed to be tough!" Ivo taunted, his voice mocking but with a gleeful spark in his eye.


    Boko''s face twisted in fury, veins bulging across his forehead and neck. "You think you''re funny, huh?" He slammed his fists down with both arms, creating a shockwave that rattled the earth. The impact sent rocks of all sizes flying up around them, and Boko''s hulking form moved with surprising speed, striking each piece in rapid succession, sending a barrage of stones at Ivo.


    Ivo tried to dodge, blocking the rocks using his power as best he could, but the sheer number of rocks overwhelmed him. Several rocks smacked against him, knocking him off balance. He lost control and fell to the ground, barely rolling to break his fall.


    Boko wasted no time, lunging forward and grabbing Ivo by the collar. Without hesitation, he unleashed a brutal flurry of punches, each one hammering down with ruthless force, pounding Ivo into the dirt. The ground buckled and cracked under the assault, with blood splattering from Ivo''s face as each blow landed, his body crumpling under Boko''s unrestrained fury.


    From above, Fallow watched, a flicker of pity crossing his face as Boko''s relentless strikes echoed through the clearing. It was a savage, unforgiving display of power.


    But just as Boko prepared to land another crushing blow, something shimmered in the air. A glimmer of gold flashed, and from seemingly nowhere, a long, slim dragon¡ªtranslucent and ethereal, like a ghostly serpent with scales shimmering like liquid sunlight¡ªappeared, wrapping itself around Boko''s neck. Its sinuous body coiled tightly, squeezing hard enough to make the giant thug''s face turn a furious shade of red.


    Boko roared, clutching at the spectral dragon with both hands as he struggled to pull it off, but his thick fingers only seemed to pass through its illusory form. His breaths came in choked gasps, his anger mounting as his attempts to wrench free grew more desperate.


    From above, Fallow''s eyes widened at the sight. Without a moment''s hesitation, he jumped down, landing with precision beside them. In one swift motion, he drew his sword, slicing through the ghostly dragon, which dissolved into golden dust that drifted away in the wind.


    In the brief respite that followed, a figure with a ponytail, the ends of his hair brushing his shoulders, dashed forward. His single visible eye burned with fierce intensity, while a lock of hair covered the other eye, hiding it from view.


    "Hang on, Ivo!" the boy called out, grabbing Ivo under the arm and helping him to his feet. His voice was calm, even amused, despite the chaos around them.


    Ivo grinned, blood streaked down the side of his mouth. "Better now, Fuma. Appreciate the save." He gave a thumbs-up with his uninjured hand, winking, though his swollen eye was barely able to open.


    "Anytime, Magnificent Captain," Fuma replied, smirking as he gave a mock salute.

 Chapter 09: Lines of Conflict Part 2

    Ivo straightened up, taking a moment to catch his breath before turning to face Boko and Fallow, his confidence undiminished. Placing one hand on his forehead with an exaggerated flourish, he leaned back, his voice full of mock grandeur. "Remember this day, Boko. You''re facing Ivo ''The Magnificent'' Gadall! Your reign of cruelty ends here!"


    Boko glared, his anger red-hot, fists clenched as he seethed. "You little brat¡ªdo you have any idea who I am? I''ve crushed men twice your size without breaking a sweat."


    Ivo just shrugged, grinning. "Well, that''s a shame for you. Because this time, you''re dealing with me. And I promise, Boko, you''re not walking away from this one unscathed."


    Fallow stepped forward, his own expression growing dark as he took up a stance beside Boko. "Think we''re just going to let you walk out of here after that? You''re in over your heads, kids."


    Fuma, unfazed, leaned casually against Ivo''s shoulder, still smirking. "Guess we''ll have to show you how wrong you are." He met Ivo''s gaze, nodding once as they prepared to face the two thugs.


    As both sides prepared for the next round, suddenly, a taunting voice broke through the silence.


    "Hey, Magnificent boy! One-eyed freak!" Scuttle''s voice rang out, sharp and mocking. He stepped forward, dragging a struggling figure in front of him¡ªa young woman with dark skin and hair twisted into noodle-like locks. She was held firmly in his grip, his thin, crooked mustache twitching with amusement as he looked at Ivo and Fuma.


    "Make a single move, and I''ll snap her neck!" Scuttle threatened, squeezing her shoulder hard, causing her to wince.


    Ivo''s face dropped, concern flashing in his eyes as he clenched his fists. "Zuri!" he shouted, his voice laced with worry.


    Zuri tried to twist out of Scuttle''s hold, her voice coming out strained. "Sorry, Captain," she called out, breathing heavily. "I couldn''t complete the task."


    Boko smirked at this, crossing his massive arms. "Task?" he repeated, amusement in his voice.


    "Yes, boss," Scuttle said proudly. "She tried to sneak into the mansion while these two caused a scene. Thought they could fool us with this little diversion."


    "Well, well," Boko chuckled darkly, his laugh echoing through the wrecked room. "Guess they forgot who runs this place."


    Despite her struggles, Zuri couldn''t break free from Scuttle''s tight grip. "Let me go, you slimy coward!" she hissed, kicking her legs in frustration.


    "Let her go, you damn cowards! Hiding behind a girl?" Ivo shouted, anger flaring in his voice.


    Boko raised a finger, wagging it at Ivo with a mocking grin. "Oh, I''ll let her go¡ªright after you surrender, boy. And if you don''t... well, let''s just say she''ll pay for your little ''strategy.''"


    Zuri shot Ivo a determined look, subtly glancing at him for a signal, though her face was lined with frustration. Seeing her intent, Ivo met her gaze, and with the smallest nod, he gave her the go-ahead. She gritted her teeth, gathering her strength, and then¡ªin one swift motion¡ªshe drove her foot upward, landing a solid hit on Scuttle''s groin.


    "Argh!" Scuttle cried out, doubling over in pain, his grip loosening just enough for Zuri to break free. She darted out of his reach, rolling clear of him as he stumbled back.


    Ivo wasted no time. He bent down, touching the ground, and in an instant, several rocks shot up from the ground, gathering around him. With a flick of his wrist, he sent them flying toward Scuttle, who, still reeling, could only watch as the stones hit him in quick succession.


    The rocks didn''t stop there¡ªthey changed direction mid-air, spinning toward Boko and Fallow. Fallow reacted quickly, stepping forward and swiping his sword through the air, deflecting the incoming stones with sharp, precise strikes.


    Boko''s laughter turned into a growl as he threw Scuttle a venomous glare. "You useless snake! Can''t even hold onto one girl!"


    Ignoring his humiliated gang member, Boko turned his gaze on Ivo and Fuma, his eyes blazing with anger. With a roar, he charged, each step shaking the ground. His massive body barreled straight toward Ivo, fists ready to crush anything in his way.


    Ivo braced himself, but before Boko could reach him, Fuma stepped in, thrusting his hand forward. "Pneuma Dragon!" he shouted, his voice ringing with power as a golden, dragon-like figure materialized in front of him. It shimmered in the air, swirling around Fuma''s arm before lunging forward, slamming into Boko and halting his advance.


    Boko staggered, caught off guard by the sheer force of the ethereal dragon. His teeth clenched as he fought against it, his powerful arms swinging as he tried to disperse the energy. Just as he was about to break free, Fallow stepped forward, his sword raised, preparing to slice through the dragon''s form.


    But before he could strike, Zuri leaped in front of him, her arms raised, both hands adorned with metal rings that glinted in the faint light. "Not so fast!" she challenged, her stance solid and unyielding.


    Fallow''s sword came down with a fierce, slicing arc, clashing against Zuri''s rings. Sparks flew as the metal clanged, the force of his blow reverberating through her arms. Zuri gritted her teeth, holding her ground, determined to keep Fallow from reaching her friends.


    "You''re brave," Fallow sneered, pressing his weight down on her, "but bravery alone won''t save you."


    Zuri forced herself to smirk, even as her arms trembled from the force of his sword. "Yap-Yap, Old bag."


    Meanwhile, Ivo and Fuma were locked in their own battle with Boko. Fuma sent another wave of energy dragon toward Boko, trying to keep him at bay, but Boko''s sheer strength was relentless. He swung his fists at them, each blow powerful enough to send shockwaves rippling through the air. Charging forward, Boko''s heavy steps cracking the ground beneath him, Ivo raised his hand, focusing on the rocks scattered around. With a flick of his wrist, he sent a barrage of jagged stones hurtling toward Boko.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    Boko dodged and blocked the first few, but one rock grazed his shoulder, another hitting his side. He grunted, glaring at Ivo. "That all you got, kid?"


    Ivo smirked and flung more rocks, aiming to wear Boko down. A well-aimed stone struck Boko''s temple, leaving a small cut. "You''re really asking for it now!" Boko roared, lunging forward with a massive fist.


    Ivo barely dodged, sending rocks flying again. One hit Boko''s knee, making him stumble, but he quickly steadied himself, his grin growing more menacing. "You think pebbles are gonna stop me?" he mocked, shaking off the dust.


    As Boko lunged, Ivo dodged to the side, sending rocks hurtling toward Boko''s chest. Some hit their mark, but Boko barely flinched, his grin widening with every impact. With each step, Boko closed in, shrugging off the stones as if they were nothing. Ivo exchanged a quick, worried glance with Fuma, who was also panting from exertion. Boko''s raw strength was relentless, and even with their combined efforts, it felt like fighting a wall that kept charging forward.


    After several minutes of this intense struggle, Ivo noticed the exhaustion etched on Fuma and Zuri''s face and his own muscles beginning to tire. Realizing they were outmatched, he clenched his jaw and called out, "We need to fall back. Now!"


    Boko''s laughter echoed through the chaos. "Running already, rat? I''m not letting you get away at all!"


    With Boko charging at them, Ivo used his control over the rocks, quickly gathering a series of stones beneath his feet to propel himself forward, his speed increasing as he made his escape. Fuma followed suit, his dragon swirling around him as he moved to protect Zuri. But just as they neared the edge of the battlefield, Fallow leaped toward them, his sword flashing as he aimed for Zuri.


    Zuri, confident her rings would protect her, raised her arms, ready to deflect the blow. But Fallow''s smirk sent a chill down her spine; his sword sliced through her rings, cutting cleanly through the metal. She barely managed to pull back in time, the blade grazing her arm and leaving a deep cut. Blood streamed down her hand, staining her sleeve as pain shot through her.


    "Zuri!" Fuma shouted, quickly releasing his Pneuma Dragon to pull her toward him, shielding her with his energy as he dragged her back from Fallow''s reach.


    Boko watched them retreat, his chest heaving, his anger still simmering. He clenched his fists, the ground beneath him cracking under the pressure of his grip. Fallow moved to follow, his sword gleaming with intent, but Boko raised a hand, stopping him.


    "Let them go," he growled, his voice low and menacing. "We have more important matters to deal with. And those villagers... they''ll pay for this stunt."


    Turning to Scuttle, who was still clutching his bruised groin on the ground, Boko''s voice was a dark snarl. "Take this trash to the dungeon. And make sure every last one of those prisoner villagers and guild members are gathered at the village ground by tomorrow morning."


    As Ivo helped Zuri limp forward, his mind was spinning from the beating he''d barely escaped. He glanced at Zuri, her hand still dripping blood and staining the ground beneath her. Fuma was walking beside her, one arm steadying her shoulder and keeping her on her feet. They moved slowly, Zuri''s breathing ragged, but her determined expression showed no sign of stopping.


    They finally approached the inn, and noticed a gathered crowd murmuring outside the inn. Ivo''s gaze drifted to the group, and then he saw him¡ªa familiar figure with wild maroon hair. That chaotic hair, that face. It was him.


    "Asper?" Ivo muttered, his voice barely above a breath, but it held a mix of confusion and annoyance.


    Asper''s gaze locked onto Ivo, his brows knitting with a sudden intensity. Recognition turned to rage, and he clenched his fists tightly.


    Without a second thought, both of them charged forward, each step heavier and more resolute. The air around them grew tense, their fists pulled back, ready to collide with everything they had.


    Just as their fists were inches from landing, a sudden gust swept through the air, faster than either could register. Fuma''s hand clamped onto Asper''s forearm, halting the punch with a firm grip. Zenji caught Ivo''s wrist, his cold gaze sharp enough to stop Ivo in his tracks.


    Fuma''s eyes sharp and unwavering looked right into Asper''s eyes, holding his gaze. "This isn''t the time nor the place, don''t you think so?"


    On the other side, "This is reckless, even for you," Zenji stated flatly, his voice quiet but firm. "Now''s not the time to pick pointless fights."


    Asper tried to pull his arm free, but Fuma''s grip was unyielding. "Let me go. This has been a long time coming!", Asper said with gritted teeth.


    "But look at my friend here," Fuma replied nodding towards Zuri, his gaze softening slightly, but his grip stayed firm. "Don''t you think this could wait?"


    Asper looked at Zuri''s bandaged, blood-soaked hand, his expression faltering for a moment. A deep breath later, he relaxed his stance, though his eyes still burned as he glanced back at Ivo. "Fine. But I thought I made myself clear, Ivo¡ªI told you not to show your face around me again."


    Zenji released Ivo''s wrist slowly, his gaze unflinching.


    Ivo rolled his eyes, crossing his arms as he replied, "I could say the same to you, Asper. We''ve got nothing left to talk about."


    "Oh, I don''t know. Seems like you''re good at making trouble, stirring things up wherever you go," Asper sneered. "Funny how one monster thinks he can save others from another."


    Ivo''s jaw tightened. "You think you''re any better, Asper? Traitor running around with new friends... Wonder if they know the real you." he spat, the words laced with venom. "Ever wonder if they know what you''re capable of? I hope you don''t betray them too."


    Asper''s fists clenched, but he kept his voice steady, though a note of bitterness crept in. "At least I don''t pretend to be something I''m not. You don''t deserve to act like some hero, Ivo, because we both know what you are."


    Ivo scoffed, his eyes narrowing. "A little rich, coming from the guy who thinks he still deserves friends." He tilted his head, a mocking smile on his face. "But hey, why don''t you go on pretending? Just don''t let it slip who you really are, Asper."


    Asper clenched his fists, barely containing his frustration. He glanced at Nobu, his voice tight. "I''d have gladly helped you out with these Scarhead scum, Nobu. But I can''t do this with him around." His tone softened slightly as he added, "Not with this... fraud."


    Nobu sighed, looking between the two of them with a heavy, helpless expression. "I understand, Asper. I just hoped..." He trailed off, knowing now that they were like oil and water¡ªnever meant to mix.


    Asper turned, walking away with Zenji and Rio following close behind. Ivo watched, fists clenched the street was still tense with the weight of words unsaid, it was Zuri''s faint voice that broke the silence.


    "I-Ivo..." She swayed unsteadily, and before anyone could react, she collapsed.


    "Zuri!" Ivo cried, rushing to her side.


    He barely caught her as she collapsed, blood staining the ground. Mira, the nun, hurried forward, her voice urgent. "Quickly, bring her inside. We need to stop the bleeding."

 Chapter 10: Infiltrating the Dukes Mansion Part 1

    As Asper, Rio and Zenji crept closer to the mansion''s silhouette, Rio leaned toward Asper, unable to hold back any longer. "Hey, Asper," he whispered. "What was all that about? I couldn''t ask earlier, but come on... I can''t resist the urge, you know?"


    It had been a tense moment back at the inn when Asper and Ivo nearly came to blows. Since then, Rio''s curiosity had been gnawing at him, the whole scene replaying in his head, unanswered questions building up. Asper''s expression hardened, eyes focused ahead.


    "Focus, we''re nearly there. You can interrogate me later, yeah?" Asper muttered, sidestepping the question.


    But Rio pressed on, unable to let it drop. "Come on, Asper! What happened between you two in the past? The great Captain of the Magnificent Guild, Ivo Gadall, has a history with our red-haired friend? That''s a story worth hearing."


    Asper clenched his jaw, avoiding Rio''s gaze. "Not in the mood, Rio. Drop it. I don''t want to talk about the past."


    Rio pouted, frustrated by the brick wall Asper had thrown up. He crossed his arms, huffing quietly. He might have been tall for his age, but the sulky look on his face betrayed his fifteen years. But his pout quickly faded as they neared the mansion.


    The estate loomed before them, its towering stone walls casting deep shadows across the garden. Every corner of the mansion seemed to be designed to intimidate, from the iron spikes jutting from the top of the walls to the gothic gargoyles perched on every ledge, staring out into the twilight like silent sentries. Behind them, the sun was dipping lower, casting the sky in shades of purpling dusk, and the windows of the mansion began to glow faintly, as though the building itself were waking up with the approaching darkness. Every sound¡ªevery distant clink of armor, every gust of wind¡ªseemed amplified.


    Zenji signaled for them to slow as they reached the back gate. Two guards were posted, leaning lazily on their pikes and engrossed in conversation. Dressed in their Gash and Slash suits, Zenji and Rio moved forward with the nonchalance of men who belonged. Rio held up a hand in greeting as they drew close, his expression one of casual authority.


    The guards stiffened at their approach, uncertain. "You two¡ªyou''re not scheduled for this shift, are you?" one of them muttered.


    Zenji''s tone was smooth, completely unfazed. "Orders just came down. The Duke has us on perimeter patrol, keeping an eye on things." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Trouble reported on the west side. We need you to check it out¡ªmake sure everything''s clear."


    The guards exchanged glances, skepticism lingering in their eyes.


    "Yeah?" one of them grunted, scratching his head. "Didn''t hear anything about it."


    Rio tilted his head, crossing his arms with a hint of impatience. "Look, the Duke isn''t exactly known for broadcasting his every order. You can stay here if you want¡ªbut if something goes wrong and he finds out you ignored his instructions..."


    One guard shifted uncomfortably, grumbling under his breath. "Fine. If the Duke says so..."


    Just as the guards turned to head west, Zenji and Rio slipped in close behind them. In one swift, practiced motion, Rio placed his hand on the neck of the nearest guard. A sharp crack echoed in the air¡ªa burst of controlled energy, like a muted firecracker snapping¡ªand a brief flash of smoke erupted between Rio''s fingers. The guards barely had time to react before they slumped forward, falling to the ground in unconscious heaps. The back gate stood open and clear.


    Asper darted over, eyes wide. "I didn''t notice it before, but... how are you able to make explosions just from your hand?"


    Rio rolled his eyes and smacked Asper lightly on the forehead. "Oh, right, I forgot. You probably lived in a cave before meeting us. First, you didn''t know about Zoanthropes, and now... Shinten?"


    "What''s Shinten?" Asper blinked, tilting his head.


    Rio sighed, smacking his own forehead dramatically. "Shinten. It''s a technique used to control... well, wait a second. Why should I tell you all the details? I''m not your teacher." He grinned, clearly enjoying holding the information over Asper. "For now, just know I''m a Binder."


    "A Binder?" Asper''s interest flared, leaning in. "Come on, Rio, tell me more!"


    Rio smirked, crossing his arms. "Oh, now you''re curious? Funny, coming from the guy who brushed off my questions earlier."


    Asper''s face twitched in frustration, a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. He wanted to know but wasn''t thrilled about giving anything in return. His pride kept him silent, yet his curiosity burned in his expression.


    Rio chuckled. "Alright, alright. It''s simple¡ªI can copy explosions. Like, I can... well, mimic it." He shrugged, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.


    Asper''s eyes widened, clearly wanting to press for more details, but Rio held up a hand, shaking his head. "That''s all you''re getting. Don''t we have an urgent job here? This isn''t a class on Shinten and Pneuma."


    Rio sighed, throwing Asper an exasperated look. "Look, explaining Shinten would take all night, and we don''t have that kind of time."


    With that, the trio slipped through the gate into the outer grounds of the Duke''s mansion. A heavy quiet filled the air, as if the estate were holding its breath, waiting. Shadows sprawled across the meticulously maintained gardens, where only a few dim lights flickered from the mansion''s windows. It felt as though every guard had been pulled away, leaving the estate in an unsettling stillness.


    Asper glanced around, taking in the mansion''s imposing architecture. The massive stone walls rose up like cliffs, lined with narrow windows and adorned with gaudy statues of the Duke himself. The entire estate seemed to exude an air of self-importance, practically screaming the Duke''s arrogance. They couldn''t risk going through the front door, so they made their way to the side, scaling the ivy-clad walls until they reached the first-floor ledge.


    Zenji climbed through the open window first, landing soundlessly on the thick, plush carpet. He straightened and glanced around, eyebrows lifting as he took in the surroundings. It took only a moment for them to realize where they''d ended up: the Duke''s bedroom. The room practically screamed wealth and vanity. Opulent, but vulgar¡ªportraits of the Duke lined every wall, each one more ridiculous than the last. Portraits of him posing like a king on a throne, dressed in extravagant, bejeweled armor, and even one of him cradling a gilded sword with a solemn expression.


    "What a narcissist," Zenji muttered, disgusted.


    Rio followed, landing lightly beside him, his nose wrinkling. "We really hit the jackpot¡ªright into his lair," he whispered, shaking his head. "This guy reeks of ego."


    Just as Zenji waved Asper over, Asper pulled himself through the window, but his hoodie snagged on the latch. He tugged, only to lose his balance as the hoodie suddenly came loose, sending him tumbling forward with a loud thud as he hit the carpet.


    The three of them froze.The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    A voice drifted out from the adjoining bathroom, followed by the unmistakable sound of splashing water. The Duke was in there, humming an off-key tune with grating enthusiasm. His song grew louder, completely out of tune, a discordant mix of high notes and raspy croons that made the trio cringe.


    Asper grimaced, shooting an apologetic look at Rio and Zenji, who both glared back at him.


    "Who''s there?" the Duke shouted, his voice laced with irritation. "Guards! GUARDS!"


    Panic flashed across their faces as they heard footsteps pounding down the hall. They scrambled, ducking behind a massive, intricately carved wardrobe that stood against the far wall. They huddled together, barely daring to breathe as the guards burst into the room.


    "Sir?" one guard called, scanning the empty room with confusion.


    From the bathroom, the Duke shouted, "Can''t a man bathe in peace? Why aren''t you standing outside?, If it were an intruder, they''d be long gone by now!"


    "Apologies, sir! We assumed¡ª"


    "Oh, you assumed, did you?" The Duke''s voice dripped with mockery. "Idiots, the lot of you! Out! And don''t bother again unless it''s life or death."


    The guards exchanged nervous looks, muttering apologies as they backed out of the room and shut the door.


    The trio let out shaky breaths, but their relief was short-lived. The bathroom door creaked open, and out stepped the Duke, wrapped in a lavish dressing robe embroidered with gold. He smoothed his belt, tightened it around his round belly, and patted his face, admiring himself in the mirror, "Such perfection," he muttered. He twisted the ends of his golden moustache with a self-satisfied smirk and gave himself a hearty spritz of heavy perfume, a thick cloud filling the room. "Now then, where is that delectable maid?"


    He strode to the bell pull and gave it a sharp yank. Moments later, the door creaked open, and a young maid slipped into the room, her shoulders slumped, gaze fixed on the floor. Her hands twisted together nervously, and her face was pale, a sheen of fear evident in her wide eyes.


    The Duke''s gaze lingered on her, his eyes roaming over her trembling form with a sickening intensity, a smile creeping across his face. "There you are," he drawled, his voice smooth and menacing. "No need to be shy." He stretched out a hand, his fingers brushing her cheek with a gentleness that belied his intentions. The maid recoiled slightly, but he tightened his grip on her hand, leading her toward the bed.


    She stumbled, nearly losing her balance, and sat on the edge of the bed, her whole frame rigid with fear. The Duke''s grin only widened as he leaned in, his breath hot and unpleasant as he whispered, "I don''t bite... much." His mouth hovered by her neck, his eyes half-closed, savoring the moment, a bead of drool slipping from his lips as he moved closer, oblivious to her silent, desperate tears.


    From the shadows, driven by pure instinct, Asper stepped out, reaching for the heavy brass lamp on the bedside table. With a surge of strength, he raised it high and swung.


    Thwack!


    The lamp connected with a satisfying crack, the Duke''s smug grin was wiped away as his eyes rolled back, and he slumped forward, collapsing in an undignified heap on the bed, unconscious. The maid gasped, her hands flying to her mouth, a mixture of shock and relief washing over her tear-streaked face as the Duke lay motionless.


    The maid gasped, frozen with shock as Rio and Zenji sprang from their hiding spots, their faces twisted with horror.


    "Asper!" Rio hissed, his voice a tense whisper. "What the hell did you just do?!"


    Asper looked at the unconscious Duke, unrepentant. "What was I supposed to do? Stand by and let him¡ª" He clenched his fists, barely holding back his disgust. "That guy''s a sick pervert."


    Rio shot him a look, eyes wild. "Maybe have a plan first?! You''re just making everything worse!"


    Zenji pinched the bridge of his nose, finally breaking in. "Enough, both of you! Arguing isn''t helping, can we focus on what matters? Any ideas about what we actually do next?"


    Rio and Asper exchanged a look, then both shook their heads.


    Zenji gave them an exasperated look. "I figured as much."


    He took a deep breath, eyes sharp as he quickly assessed their options. Then he turned to the maid, his voice steady but urgent. "Listen, you need to go outside and tell the guards the Duke doesn''t want anyone near his door tonight. Say he''s... in a bad mood. Angry. Make it sound convincing and get them to leave."


    The maid, still trembling, wiped her eyes and nodded, giving them a fleeting look of gratitude before slipping out of the room. They could hear her outside the room, relaying Zenji''s order with a quiver in her voice.


    Once she was gone, Rio threw up his hands, shaking his head. "I can''t believe this. Do you even understand what kind of hole we''re in right now?"


    Asper huffed, clearly trying to justify himself. "Look, it''s not all bad. We could use the Duke as leverage against that gang boss, Sharkhead," he said, mispronouncing the name without missing a beat.


    Rio paused, raising an eyebrow. "Sharkhead?" He stifled a laugh, momentarily forgetting their situation. But as soon as the chuckle escaped, he sobered up, rolling his eyes. "No, you pea-brain. We can''t just stroll up to a gang leader with his employer tied up like it''s some trade deal! For all we know, he''d be relieved to get rid of him."


    "Then what do you suggest?" Asper asked, genuinely curious, though he was clearly struggling to keep his attention on Rio''s long-winded explanation.


    Rio shook his head, leaning closer. "Look, if we even think about making a move on these people, we need to figure out what''s important to them first, we clearly need to have the upper hand in the deal. And we definitely need to get your bag back before they start rifling through it. If there''s anything useful in there, they''ll be using it against us."


    Asper nodded, but his head had already begun to droop slightly. His eyes fluttered closed as Rio continued his heated explanation.


    "Asper, are you¡ªare you asleep?!" Rio snapped, his voice sharp enough to jolt Asper awake.


    "Huh?" Asper rubbed his eyes, blinking rapidly. "No, no, I was listening... Something about my bag, right?"


    Rio sighed, his tone a mix of irritation and exasperation. "Yes, genius, your bag. Pay attention! This is all your mess, pea-brain."


    Asper cocked his head, studying Rio curiously. "How come you know so much about negotiations with gang leaders and all this shady stuff?"


    Rio paused, breathless for a split second, his usually vibrant, cheery expression dimming as something dark flickered in his eyes. But he quickly grinned, shrugging it off with a laugh. "Because, actually, I''m a trained spy and assassin." He winked, and Zenji sighed.


    "If we''re done with story hour," Zenji cut in, "can we focus? The guards will notice if we don''t move fast."


    A few moments later, they saw the guards'' shadows retreat, leaving the corridor empty.


    Zenji nodded toward the open door. "We''re clear. Let''s get moving before someone realizes something''s off."


    Asper, Zenji, and Rio crept quietly out of the Duke''s room, carefully closing the door behind them. Ahead, they spotted the grand staircase, which curved both upward and downward. The space around the staircase was open, allowing glimpses of the ground floor through the small, ornately carved balusters. Down below, the clinking of plates and soft murmur of servants echoed upward as the staff began setting out an elaborate dinner on the long dining table.


    Asper''s stomach, oblivious to the danger, seemed to have its own agenda, rumbling loud enough to betray them. The smell of roasted meat, rich sauces, and fresh bread wafted up to them, teasing his senses. He felt his legs move of their own accord, almost as if he was in a trance, his gaze fixed on the food below. "Food... food... food..." he murmured dreamily, his eyes half-lidded as he drifted down the stairs, seemingly drawn by the scent like a cartoon character floating on invisible wisps.


    Rio, noticing Asper''s zombie-like march down the stairs, hissed in alarm, reaching out to grab him. "Asper! You red-haired menace, you''re going to get us all killed!"


    But Asper barely seemed to hear him, still whispering, "Food... food..." as he continued to float toward the dining area below. With a frustrated sigh, Rio tried to haul him back by his hoodie, only for Asper''s weight to drag him forward instead. Zenji, watching this spectacle, clenched his jaw and strode forward, giving Asper a sharp smack on the back of his head, snapping him out of his trance.


    Asper blinked, dazed, and then grinned sheepishly at his friends. Zenji grabbed him by the collar, pulling him close so their faces were just inches apart. His dark eyes were fierce as he spoke in a low, dangerous tone. "Pull one more idiotic stunt like that, and I swear, I''ll personally hand you over to Scarhead."


    Asper''s grin faded, and he gave a small, meek nod. Zenji released him with a final shove, and they moved quietly along the corridor, stepping carefully to avoid any creaky floorboards.

 Chapter 11: Infiltrating the Dukes Mansion Part 2

    Just then, a faint vibration rumbled through the floorboards, followed by the heavy sound of a door opening further down the corridor. A deep, familiar voice floated toward them, filled with amusement. "Are they doing what I told them to, Spike?" Boko Salerno''s voice echoed through the empty hallway, sending a chill through the trio. "I want it done exactly as I described. By tomorrow morning, Cornwall Village will tremble in fear."


    The three paused, breathless. The tone in Boko''s voice was pure malice, and they felt the weight of his intent settle heavily over them.


    Thinking quickly, they ducked into a nearby room, shutting the door softly behind them. Pressing their ears against the wood, they strained to listen as Boko''s footsteps drew nearer, his booming voice filling the corridor. They exchanged nervous glances, knowing that even the slightest sound could expose them.


    Then¡ªcreak.


    The door they''d hidden behind let out the smallest sound under their combined weight. All three froze, their breaths caught in their throats as the footsteps outside paused. There was silence for a heartbeat, then the soft scrape of Boko''s heavy boots as he stepped closer to the door. They could feel his presence on the other side, almost smell the faint mix of leather and cigar smoke.


    The knob rattled. Zenji remained calm, his gaze sharp as he quietly placed a hand on the hilt of his sword, ready but composed. Beside him, Rio''s heart hammered in his chest, and his breath caught. His hand instinctively lifted; fingers poised for his signature explosion move. Meanwhile, Asper simply stared, frozen as the door began to inch open.


    Boko twisted the doorknob slowly, pushing the door open a crack. All three could see the shadow of his looming figure from the narrow sliver of light that crept into the room. Boko''s fingers gripped the edge of the door, and he began to push it open further.


    Then, just as Boko''s eyes seemed about to meet theirs¡ª


    "Sir!" Spike''s voice rang out from down the hallway, urgent but deferential. "Scuttle and Fallow have arrived, just as you requested."


    The shadow hesitated. Boko''s hand froze on the door, his attention torn between curiosity and the allure of his arriving guests. With a small grunt of irritation, he let go of the door, leaving it slightly ajar, the silence from within unnoticed.


    Zenji, Rio, and Asper waited, their bodies pressed tightly against the wall as Boko''s voice called out in a gleeful tone, "Finally! Let''s go eat dinner. And plan what we''ll do to Cornwall tomorrow," he added, his laugh low and menacing as he stalked off.


    Their hearts hammered in their chests as they listened to his heavy footsteps retreating, only daring to exhale once they were sure he was gone. Zenji shook his head. "We have to do this fast," he muttered urgently. "Boko''s planning something... and we can''t wait around while he carries it out."


    Taking a moment to scan the room, they noticed how surprisingly plain it was compared to the rest of the lavish mansion. A small, dusty window faced the outside wall, a few shelves lined the walls, and a sturdy table sat in the middle, holding a silver tray with a domed lid.


    Asper''s eyes widened as they fell on the tray. "Oh, look! There''s food here!" he said, brightening up and reaching for it before Zenji could react.


    "Wait, Asper!" Zenji warned, his eyes narrowing, sensing a trap. But it was too late¡ªAsper had already lifted the lid, his face lighting up with expectation, only for a thick, billowing smoke to suddenly pour out from underneath.


    "Ugh! What''s this?" Asper coughed, stepping back as the room filled with a strange, heavy fog. Zenji cursed under his breath, rushing to shut the door to contain the smoke and prevent it from alerting anyone outside. But as he did so, his vision began to blur.


    Rio staggered, clutching the table for support as his knees wobbled. "Damn... you... Asper..." he muttered with a groan, before slumping to the ground in a dazed heap. Asper was next, falling back onto the floor with a dull thud, unconscious.


    Zenji struggled, his hand reaching for the small window to open it and let the smoke out. But as he fumbled with the latch, his strength ebbed away, and his vision darkened. The last thing he managed to do was push the window open a crack before he, too, collapsed to the floor.


    Asper lay motionless on the floor, his face oddly serene, as if finally given a chance to rest. The faint rise and fall of his chest was the only movement in the still, smoke-filled room. Though this trap had been nothing more than an unlucky accident, the forced slumber seemed almost merciful¡ªhis body needed it. Today, after all, had been his first true taste of the world beyond the tranquil confines of Cloverdel Dojo and the rugged peaks and roaring shores of Darzine Village.


    From the moment he''d left, it had been a whirlwind of battles, revelations, and brushes with death. He had lost to Riven, argued with his mother, learned about the Guardian Qurint, and visited the mystical Task Nebula. Danger had followed close behind, nearly claiming him more than once¡ªfirst to a Suntooth Leopard, then to an ominous swordsman. Rescued by a stranger with a katana and a kid who could make explosions with his hand, Asper had then arrived in Cornwall Village, where he''d met a talking bear, the person he hated the most, and now, somehow, he found himself infiltrating a mansion with two unlikely allies. So much had happened that his senses had been constantly heightened, his mind racing, his body barely pausing.


    And now, at last, he was asleep, his face softened into calmness as the chaos of the day faded away into the quiet darkness.


    The morning light filtered softly into the inn, casting a calm glow over the room. Zuri stirred first, easing herself upright with a soft groan and resting her back against the headboard. Cherrie was curled up beside her, breathing steadily, oblivious to the aches and tensions that filled the room. Across from her, Nobu looked up, his expression worried.


    "You should really rest, Zuri," he said gently.


    "I''m fine, Kuma," she replied dismissively. But before she could say more, Fuma chimed in, his tone firm.


    "No, you''re not," he said, crossing his arms. "You should''ve realized Fallow was using Pneuma in that last attack. Your Anima wasn''t enough to stop it. That was reckless, Zuri¡ªespecially going up against someone who can channel Pneuma into their weapon."


    Zuri rolled her eyes, waving her hand in a mocking imitation. "Yap, yap, yap, Fuma. Here we go again with the lectures."The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    But before Fuma could respond, Ivo cut in, his tone stern. "He''s right, Zuri. I told you to fall back, and you should have listened. Charging in like that was reckless. It could have cost you your life."


    Zuri''s eyes clouded with frustration as she snapped back, her voice quivering. "But it was my mess to begin with! If I''d managed to capture Duke Gilles, things would have been different. We could have...maybe saved more people. I failed, and it was my fault. Just blame me if you want, but stop trying to make excuses for me." Her voice wavered as her hands clenched tightly.


    Fuma sighed, his gaze softening. "We don''t blame you, Zuri. Our planning missed crucial details¡ªthat was on all of us. My calculations should have accounted for more possibilities."


    Nobu spoke up quietly, a hint of guilt in his voice. "I''m sorry, Captain. Maybe if I''d been there, we could''ve won. Maybe we could''ve taken down those Scarhead scum."


    "It wasn''t your fault, Nobu," Ivo said, shaking his head. "Cherrie was hungry, remember? She was exhausted and throwing a fit¡ªyou had to get her back here and feed her."


    The conversation hung in the air, heavy with regret and tension, each of them lost in their own thoughts about what might have been. Just then, the door to the inn flew open with a bang. A woman stumbled in, her face streaked with tears, hair wild, clutching her chest as she gasped for breath. Her clothes were disheveled, her hands trembling. She looked at the Guild members with a mixture of anger and heartbreak.


    "You damn kids," she sobbed, her voice raw with anguish. "It''s because of you... look what he did. Look what that monster did to my husband, to my son!" Her knees buckled, and she collapsed, clutching the doorway as she wept bitterly, cursing between breaths.


    Nun Mira, who had been tending to the room, rushed over and knelt beside the woman, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Hush, dear," she said softly, her gentle presence a balm to the woman''s grief. "Tell us what happened. Try to breathe."


    But the woman''s sobs only grew louder, her grief too vast for words.


    A shadow fell across the doorway, and Clergyman Winfreth entered, his face ashen, his eyes wide and hollow. His usual calm demeanor was replaced by a haunted, almost trembling expression, as though he had stared into something unspeakably dark.


    "The things I saw..." he began, his voice barely a whisper. He swallowed, and his voice grew stronger, carrying a weight of dread that filled the room. "What I witnessed... no human could have done that. The village ground¡ªit''s stained with blood. Children, men, women... he made them examples."


    He paused, his eyes misting as he clenched his fists. "This was not the act of a man. This... was the work of a demon. A creature with no soul. This wasn''t justice, or power¡ªthis was a show of absolute, merciless evil. May God forgive me, but I... I''ve never seen anything so vile."


    The room fell silent, the weight of Winfreth''s words sinking into each of them, a suffocating, pulsing dread. The intensity of the horrors he described left the air thick with fear and despair, and even Ivo''s steady gaze faltered.


    He turned to his guild members, his jaw clenched. "Get ready. This can''t go unanswered."


    Just then, a small whimper sounded from the bed. Cherrie, now awake from the commotion, looked around in confusion, her innocent eyes catching the dread painted on everyone''s faces. Nobu scooped her up without a word, cradling her close as the group made their way to the village ground. The urgency in their footsteps matched the thundering in their chests.


    As they emerged from the inn and moved closer to the gathering crowd, a stench filled the air¡ªmetallic, sickly sweet, unmistakable. A murmur of horror rippled through the villagers, the mix of anguished cries and gasps slicing through the morning quiet. The Guild members pushed through, and the scene before them made even the strongest among them falter.


    Rows upon rows of tall, wooden stakes stretched out like a grim forest, each one holding a body¡ªmen, women, children¡ªall splayed out in positions of utter cruelty. Some were bound upright, others had been strung up in crucifixion, their arms outstretched, heads slumped forward. Others hung upside down, their limp forms swaying slightly in the breeze, a morbid dance choreographed by death itself. It seemed endless¡ªdozens, perhaps even hundreds, of lives cruelly displayed like grotesque ornaments on a twisted canvas of suffering.


    The faces of those bound were hidden behind white cloths soaked through with dark, congealed blood, the red stains running down their chests, dripping slowly to the earth below. The ground was a dark, wet patchwork of blood. It pooled around the stakes, staining the soil with echoes of pain and loss. Each heartbeat felt like a thunderclap in the oppressive silence, the only sounds breaking through being the faint groans and soft whimpers from those still alive, their agony barely audible over the cries of the onlookers.


    One child, not older than ten, had been fastened with their small arms stretched wide, their head lolling to the side. A cloth wrapped tightly over their face muffled weak, shuddering breaths. The sight tore through the crowd like a blade, and a few villagers collapsed to their knees, their own cries blending with the tormented sounds around them. Mothers held their children close, shielding their eyes, yet unable to tear their own gaze from the scene of abject horror.


    The Guild members stood paralyzed, grappling with the brutality before them. The sheer scale of Boko Salerno''s cruelty weighed down on them¡ªa calculated display of power, a message of unrestrained malice. Every stake was a testament to his dominance, his utter disregard for human life.


    Clergyman Winfreth''s voice cut through the thick silence, trembling but resolute. "This... this is beyond sin, beyond cruelty. This is the work of a man who has abandoned his humanity¡ªwho has become something darker, something twisted. I''ve served in this village for years, and I have never seen... never imagined... such vile, demonic savagery."


    A murmur of fury rose among the villagers, the air thickening with outrage, sorrow, and helplessness. Children clung to their parents, tears streaming down their faces, while the adults wore expressions etched in grief and fury.


    Beside Ivo, Zuri''s fists clenched so tightly her knuckles turned white. Her eyes, usually bright with warmth or humor, were pools of barely contained rage. Nobu''s jaw was set, his gaze fixed unwaveringly on the stakes, his muscles taut as he held Cherrie close to shield her from the view. Even Fuma, usually calm and composed, clenched his teeth, his face betraying a rare anger.


    Ivo''s jaw clenched, his mind echoing the words: This ends here. Today, we are going to put a stop to Boko Salerno''s reign. No one... no one should be able to walk away from something like this.


    But before he could act, a sickening sound broke through the tension-laden air¡ªamused snickers, mocking laughter ringing out like a twisted melody. Standing at the forefront, Boko Salerno''s gang members watched the scene with smug satisfaction, their eyes gleaming as they took in the horror they had orchestrated. Not a trace of remorse crossed their faces; only twisted pleasure filled their expressions.


    They grinned, delighting in the terror they inspired. The villagers shrank back, instinctively shielding their children and retreating from the vile figures in front of them, fear rippling through the crowd as they struggled to keep a safe distance, yet a line of defiance held at the front: Ivo, Fuma, Zuri, Nobu, and Clergyman Winfreth remained rooted, their expressions unwavering.


    The gang parted, and from their ranks, two familiar figures stepped forward¡ªScuttle, his smirk vile and eyes brimming with dark amusement, and Fallow, who grinned as he surveyed the Guild members with contempt. The ground beneath their heavy footsteps seemed to tremble, as if recoiling from their presence.


    Then, behind them, with a slow and deliberate step, Boko Salerno emerged, his presence suffocating, his very aura drenched in malice. His lips twisted into a sinister grin, and he raised his arms wide, as though presenting his grim display to an audience. His gaze met Ivo''s, gleaming with an eerie satisfaction.


    "Welcome, Ivo ''The Magnificent'' Gadall," he called, his voice darkly welcoming, his tone dripping with cruelty. The smirk on his face grew as he glanced around at the field of stakes, the suffering etched on each tortured soul. Then, his gaze returned to Ivo, his voice dropping to a venomous whisper, though every word sliced through the silence.


    "Welcome to my Graveyard of the Living."

 Chapter 12: Brawl at the Graveyard of the Living Part 1

    The air hummed with tension as the last syllables of Boko Salerno¡¯s cruel words hung in the air.


    The ground trembled as Ivo¡¯s heart pounded like a war drum in his chest. The stench of blood hung heavy, the cries of pain ringing in his ears, but none of it mattered. In front of him stood Boko Salerno, the monster responsible for this atrocity, and with every heartbeat, his anger swelled.


    ¡°This ends now,¡± Ivo said, his voice low, carrying the weight of his simmering rage.


    Boko¡¯s smirk only widened. He spread his arms wide as though welcoming Ivo into the chaos. ¡°You think you can stop me?¡± His voice was a taunting whisper. ¡°You¡¯ve already lost, ''Magnificent''. You and your pitiful Guild are just toys for me to break.¡±


    ¡°Big talk for someone hiding behind a pack of cowards, Scarhead,¡± Ivo growled.


    ¡°Hiding?¡± Boko spat, his tone dripping with disdain. ¡°You¡¯ve got it all wrong, boy. I¡¯m not hiding¡ªI¡¯m leading. This? This is destiny. And you? You¡¯re just a stubborn little worm who doesn¡¯t know when to die.¡±


    ¡°Stop spouting crap,¡± Ivo growled, his eyes narrowing. ¡°Did you train only your tongue, or are those muscles actually good for something?¡±


    Boko chuckled, a low rumble that seemed to shake the air. ¡°You¡¯ll find out soon enough, Magnificent. But I promise¡ªwhen I¡¯m done, you won¡¯t have the strength to ask stupid questions.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s see if those muscles can handle this!¡± Ivo shot back.


    Salerno¡¯s laughter filled the air as he flicked his wrist, ¡°Let¡¯s see how magnificent you really are.¡±


    With a signal to the others, the battle erupted around them. Hundreds of gang members, led by Fallow, Scuttle, and Boko, charged forward, weapons drawn, ready for the bloodbath. Ivo, Fuma, Nobu, Zuri, and Cherrie had no choice but to brace for the storm that was about to hit.


    ¡°Attack!¡± Boko bellowed, his voice like a thunderclap, and at his command, the gang surged forward.


    ¡°Go!¡± Ivo shouted to his team, his eyes never leaving Boko. His hand darted to the ground, brushing against scattered rocks. A low hum filled the air as his power surged through them, lifting them into the air in jagged, spiraling arcs. With a single motion, he thrust his hands forward, sending a barrage of rocks flying into the crowd, knocking several gang members to the ground.


    Nobu was already in motion, his twin blades flashing as he cut down any foe in his path, moving with fluid grace all while protecting Cherrie. Zuri and Scuttle collided with ferocity, each locked in their own vicious battle. Fuma stood apart from the chaos, summoning his pneuma dragon to rain fiery destruction down on Fallow.


    But amidst the chaos, Ivo¡¯s focus never wavered from Boko. The distance between them quickly closed, and they stood face-to-face, their eyes burning with pure fury.


    ¡°Let¡¯s see how well you can handle this,¡± Ivo snarled, dropping low to touch the stones. They trembled under his hand before surging into the air, spinning with lethal intent.


    ¡°You¡¯re gonna have to try harder than that, Magnificent,¡± Boko growled. His bare fists flexed, veins bulging as he prepared for the fight, his Anima-enhanced muscles rippling under his skin. The ground seemed to tremble beneath his feet, as if the very earth feared the beast before them.


    Ivo exhaled slowly, ¡°I¡¯m not here to try,¡± he growled, his eyes narrowing. ¡°I¡¯m here to end this, Scarhead!!.¡±


    He thrust both hands forward, generating a powerful gust of air to propel himself upward. The move strained his pneuma, his body trembling under the exertion, but he used the momentum to arc high over Boko, hurling stones down like meteors.


    Boko twisted, his movements shockingly fast for his massive frame. He dodged most of the assault, but one rock grazed his shoulder, drawing a thin line of blood. Instead of faltering, he grinned wider, his teeth gleaming in the morning light.


    Ivo¡¯s fingers twitched, and rocks scattered around him again, he sent them whirled through the air like razors, converging on Boko with deadly precision. But Boko was already moving; too fast, too strong.


    He punched the rocks aside effortlessly, fragments scattering like dust. His grin widened as he flexed his fingers, the power coursing through his veins making him seem untouchable. Then, with an animalistic roar, he charged. Ivo moved to block, but the impact shattered his focus. He staggered, the strain on his pneuma sapping his strength.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    Boko was relentless, using his immense strength and Anima-enhanced muscles to batter through Ivo¡¯s defence, each punch sent ripples through the air, cracking the earth beneath them. The ground groaned under the weight of his strikes, as if even nature was recoiling from his power. The force was enough to push Ivo back several feet, his legs buckling under the pressure.


    ¡°Is that all you¡¯ve got?¡± Boko taunted, his voice a low growl. ¡°Throwing pebbles? I thought you were supposed to be impressive.¡±


    Ivo gritted his teeth, his eyes burning with fury. He couldn¡¯t afford to hold back. Not now. He lifted a massive chunk of the earth, hurling it at Boko with enough force to shatter stone. The impact was deafening, but as the dust cleared, Ivo saw that his opponent had not been crushed. Instead, Boko stood there, unharmed, his muscles rippling beneath his skin as he grinned, his fists still clenched tightly.


    "Not bad," Boko muttered, his eyes glinting with admiration. "But I¡¯ve been through worse¡­, way worse¡±


    Ivo¡¯s mind raced. He needed something more, something that could counter Boko¡¯s overwhelming brute force. But Boko wasn¡¯t just a brute he was a fortress. His Anima-enhanced muscles were like impenetrable iron, and if he felt pain, it only seemed to fuel him. Ivo needed precision. He needed to fight smarter.


    He reached out, calling forth the rocks around him, his hands sweeping in sharp arcs. The stones spun into the air, forming a deadly whirlwind of sharp, jagged projectiles, circling in a tempest of destruction.


    But Boko wasn¡¯t impressed. He moved with terrifying speed, deflecting every stone with ease. His uncanny eyes never left Ivo, calculating, mocking.


    "You¡¯re just wasting my time," Boko sneered. With a roar, he launched himself forward, his fists like battering rams aimed directly at Ivo¡¯s chest.


    Ivo wasn¡¯t quick enough. The first punch landed with a sickening thud, sending a jolt of pain through his body. The second one followed, hitting him square in the ribs and sending him crashing and rolling on the ground. He coughed, tasting blood in his mouth, but he pushed through the pain.


    <hr>


    ¡°Captain!!¡± Fuma shouted, his voice urgent.


    Before he could say more, Fallow lunged with startling agility, swinging his sword in a deadly arc. Fuma barely managed to dodge, his reflexes saving him as he jumped back, creating distance between them.


    ¡°Paying attention elsewhere while you¡¯re up against me?¡± Fallow sneered, his tone dripping with disdain. ¡°How disrespectful, kid.¡±


    <hr>


    "Come on, come on..." Ivo muttered, struggling to regain his footing. His body ached from the blows, his energy draining fast. But he wasn¡¯t done. Not yet.


    ¡°You¡¯re just flailing now,¡± Boko said, running a hand over his bald head, his fingers brushing the rough stitches. His eyes flicked lazily to the side, tracking a distant movement before snapping back to Ivo. ¡°Think harder, Magnificent. Or don¡¯t,¡± Boko sneered, his grin widening. ¡°I enjoy watching you fail.¡±


    As Boko charged forward again, Ivo gathered last of his strength, planting his hands firmly on the ground, and with a deep breath, sent a massive wave of rocks through the air. The rock wave hit Boko like a wrecking ball, sending him skidding back, his feet tearing up the ground as he struggled to regain his footing.


    But before Ivo could strike again, Boko was already back on his feet, his rage fueling him.


    ¡°Is that the best you can do?¡± Boko laughed, wiping a trickle of blood from his lip. ¡°You¡¯re pathetic. Just like the rest of them.¡±


    Ivo¡¯s heart raced as he felt the exhaustion seeping in. The strain of manipulating the rocks, of propelling himself with his telekinetic power, was starting to take its toll. His pneuma was draining, his movements slower, his mind struggling to focus.


    But he couldn¡¯t afford to falter.


    With a desperate cry, Ivo summoned the last of his strength, whipping the air into a violent whirlwind. Rocks spun within the vortex, a storm of jagged death hurtling toward Boko in an attempt to overwhelm him. Ivo put everything he had into it, hoping against hope that this would be the blow that ended the fight.


    But to his horror, Boko¡¯s massive arms swept through the air, scattering the rocks like leaves in a breeze. His expression didn¡¯t waver if anything, he looked bored.


    ¡°You think that¡¯ll stop me?¡± Boko laughed, his voice cold. ¡°You¡¯re not even worth breaking a sweat.¡±


    Ivo¡¯s body trembled with exhaustion. Sweat poured down his face, his breath shallow and ragged. His vision blurred from the strain, but still, he gritted his teeth, refusing to give in.


    He couldn¡¯t keep this up. He couldn¡¯t lose. Not like this.


    As Ivo staggered back, his hands trembling from the strain, he could see Boko approaching, unfazed, as if the battle had barely even begun. Ivo was on the verge of collapse, but the beast was as strong as ever, his confidence only growing with each failed attempt. To Boko, this wasn¡¯t a battle¡ªit was a game. And Ivo was losing.


    Ivo¡¯s legs buckled as exhaustion gripped him, but he refused to fall. His power was nearly gone. And there was no way he could win this fight.


    He knew, deep in his bones, that it was only a matter of time before the monster crushed him beneath his fists.

 Chapter 13: Brawl at the Graveyard of the Living Part 2

    The battlefield was a nightmarish tableau, and Clergyman Winfreth found himself in its bloodied heart. Everywhere his eyes turned, he saw chaos incarnate. The once-holy grounds of his faith¡ªspaces meant for prayer, solace, and renewal¡ªwere desecrated by the clash of steel and the snarls of men who had long since abandoned their humanity.


    Morning light broke weakly through the haze, casting long, grotesque shadows over the stakes where men, women, and even children were displayed like cruel trophies. The dew-soaked ground was a patchwork of dark red, the blood pooling around the base of the stakes before seeping into the dirt. The stakes stretched out endlessly before him, each one carrying a story of agony too harrowing to imagine. Some figures hung limply, their heads bowed forward in silent surrender. Others twitched faintly, their broken bodies held upright only by the ropes binding their arms and legs.


    Screams raw, tore through the air, blending with the cruel laughter of those who relished in the violence. These men¡ªthey were no longer men in his eyes. Their faces were twisted with malevolent glee, their eyes alight with a devilish hunger. They fought like demons, bodies slick with the blood of their enemies and allies alike.


    Winfreth¡¯s gaze darted between the chaos and the stakes, his stomach turning as he witnessed the mockery of life and dignity displayed so brazenly. His voice trembled as he whispered, ¡°Lord above... What is this hell on earth? What wickedness have You allowed to fester here?¡±


    He took a shaky step forward, his boots squelching in the mud mixed with blood. ¡°Do You not see their suffering? Their torment? These innocents strung up like animals for slaughter? Is this truly the world You watch over? Am I not Your servant? Am I not meant to bring light into this darkness?¡± He hesitated, staring at the bloodied earth, his knuckles tightening around his staff. ¡°Am I enough? Or have You abandoned me, too?¡±


    His voice rose, carrying over the battlefield like a crack of thunder. ¡°Answer me!¡± he shouted, his tone raw with desperation. ¡°Where is Your justice? Where is Your mercy?¡±


    No answer came. Only the sound of steel clashing against steel and the bloodcurdling screams of the fallen.


    "Do you see now, clergyman?" a deep voice rasped from behind him. Winfreth spun to see a towering man, his chest bare and streaked with blood, his axe dripping with gore. "Your gods have abandoned you. They care nothing for this slaughter. Nothing for you."


    Winfreth¡¯s jaw clenched, his heart pounding in his chest. "You speak of gods, yet you embody the devil himself!" he bellowed, his voice carrying a strength that belied his fear. He raised his staff high. "I am but a servant, Lord please give strength to this humble follower."


    The brute laughed, a booming, hollow sound. "Then come, servant. Let me show you how your light fades before our shadows!"


    The clergyman¡¯s heart raced, but his resolve burned hotter than his fear. This was not a battle of strength¡ªit was a stand against darkness itself.


    With a cry of defiance, Winfreth lunged forward, aiming the sharp tip of his staff at the towering man¡¯s eyes. The brute¡¯s instincts were sharp; he tilted his head at the last moment, the staff narrowly grazing past his temple.


    ¡°You¡¯ll have to do better than that, clergyman!¡± the man roared, swinging his axe in a wide arc.


    Winfreth dropped low, the heavy blade whooshing over his head with terrifying force. He scrambled back, sweat beading on his brow as he planned for his next move. The man stepped closer, towering over him like a mountain, his bloodstained axe poised for another swing.


    Gathering his courage, Winfreth surged forward, jabbing the staff into the man¡¯s muscled arm. The sharp point pierced through flesh, and the beast howled in pain. Blood oozed from the wound as he staggered back, clutching his injured arm.


    ¡°Damn it, you filthy wretch!¡± the man roared, his face contorted in rage. He swung wildly with his axe, the blade cutting through the air in reckless, furious arcs.


    Winfreth sidestepped one blow and ducked under another, the brute¡¯s strength now his weakness. With each missed swing, the man left himself open, his movements growing sloppier as pain and anger clouded his focus.


    Seizing the opportunity, Winfreth gripped his staff tightly and spun behind the man. With all his strength, he drove the sharp end of the staff into the side of the man¡¯s neck.


    The man¡¯s eyes widened in shock. He dropped his axe, his hands clutching at the staff as blood spurted from the wound. He gurgled, his knees buckling beneath him, before collapsing to the ground; lifeless.


    Breathing heavily, Winfreth pulled his staff free, blood dripping from its point. He stood over the fallen man, his chest heaving as the reality of what he¡¯d done settled in.


    ¡°Even servants,¡± he murmured, his voice steady despite the tremble in his hands, ¡°have the power to defy evil.¡±


    Winfreth¡¯s victory over the brute brought him no solace. The screams and clash of weapons continued, pulling his gaze toward the heart of the battlefield. Amid the chaos, Nobu stood like an unyielding wall of muscle and fur, his broad shoulders hunched as he shielded Cherrie, the trembling child clutching his leg. His white fur was matted with blood¡ªsome his own, most not¡ªas his twin long swords glinted in the morning sunlight.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    The gang members surrounding him were relentless, their sneers dripping with venom. One stepped forward, a lanky man with a crooked nose and a jagged blade. ¡°Look at this lowlife bastard,¡± he spat. ¡°A beast playing at being a hero. You think you¡¯re equal to us, animal?¡±


    Laughter erupted around him. Another thug, a burly man with a club, pointed his weapon at Nobu. ¡°Should¡¯ve stayed in your hole, freak. You¡¯ll die here like the filthy mutt you are.¡±


    Nobu¡¯s crimson eyes burned with fury. His claws tightened around the hilts of his swords, the leather groaning under the pressure. ¡°You call me an animal,¡± he growled, his voice low and guttural, ¡°but it¡¯s your kind who reeks of filth.¡±


    The gang lunged at him as one, a wave of steel and hatred crashing down. Nobu moved with precision, his swords a blur of silver arcs. He parried one blade, ducked another, and delivered a crushing kick to the ribs of a third assailant, sending the man sprawling.


    ¡°Kill this lowly worm!¡± one of them roared, leaping into the air with a raised axe.


    Nobu sidestepped, his sword slicing upward in a clean, sharp arc. The axe clattered to the ground, its wielder clutching his arm in agony. Another came at him from the side, thrusting a spear aimed at Cherrie. Nobu twisted, deflecting the spear with one blade while using the other to cut the attacker¡¯s leg, sending him crashing down.


    The gang began to coordinate, surrounding him. They attacked in tandem, their weapons aimed to overwhelm. Nobu gritted his teeth, barely managing to block a flurry of strikes. One blade deflected a downward swing, while his other sword caught a dagger mid-thrust. But even he couldn¡¯t keep up with their sheer numbers.


    A blade nicked his shoulder, drawing blood. Another thug seized the opportunity and swung a mace toward Cherrie.


    Nobu growled. ¡°You all are going to regret this!¡±


    Suddenly, his form shimmered, flickering like a distorted image. The gang hesitated, their strikes faltering, and in that moment, Nobu disappeared¡ªglitching through the attacker aiming for Cherrie. His body seemed to break apart into fragments, reassembling behind the thug.


    ¡°What the hell, Shinten?!¡± the man cried out, spinning around.


    Nobu didn¡¯t answer. He slashed with both swords, his movements faster than before, a streak of white and silver. His blades phased through weapons and armor as if they weren¡¯t there, cutting his enemies before they could react.


    Another fighter lunged at him with a sword, but Nobu¡¯s glitching form blurred again, the weapon passing harmlessly through his chest. He reappeared behind the attacker, driving his elbow into the man¡¯s back and sending him sprawling.


    ¡°Kill him already!¡± a gang member yelled, but his fear was evident.


    ¡°You can try,¡± Nobu snarled, glitching forward in a burst of speed. His swords flickered with him, carving through the air like ghosts. He phased through two men simultaneously, their cries of confusion turning into screams as his swords reappeared, cutting them down.


    The drawback of his power loomed in his mind. He knew its perilous edge all too well. If even a single enemy weapon grazed his body while he was glitching¡ªjust a hair¡¯s breadth, just a fraction of contact¡ªthat weapon would glitch with him. And when he re-solidified, their weapon could end up embedded in his body, piercing flesh and bone without resistance. It wasn¡¯t just his body he had to protect; anything he glitched with became a potential death sentence. He couldn¡¯t let them get close enough. That was why he wielded long swords¡ªuncommon, unwieldy for some, but perfect for him. They let him maintain the critical distance he needed, keeping his enemies far enough away while still striking with precision.


    The gang kept coming, and Nobu moved like a phantom among them. When they pressed too close, he wrapped an arm around Cherrie and pulled her to him. The little girl gasped as the world around her seemed to blur and ripple, her form becoming weightless and intangible. Together, they phased through the incoming wall of enemies, slipping past weapons and bodies as if they were ghosts.


    They reappeared on the other side, Nobu setting Cherrie down gently behind a toppled cart. His breathing was steady but his expression was grim.


    ¡°You stay here,¡± he said firmly, his voice low but commanding.


    Cherrie¡¯s eyes, wide with fear and worry, locked onto his. ¡°But Nobu,¡± Cherrie whispered, her voice trembling, ¡°what if something happens to you? I can¡¯t lose you too.¡±


    ¡°I said stay,¡± he interrupted sharply, his tone like a whip crack. Then, softening just slightly, he added, ¡°I promised to protect you, didn¡¯t I? Let me keep that promise.¡±


    Her lip quivered, but she nodded.


    ¡°I will handle this.¡± He stood, turning his back to her and stepping into the chaos once more.


    The gang paused for a moment, eyes narrowing at the glitching figure before them. His twin long swords shimmered faintly, their unusual length making him seem even more imposing. Nobu raised them both, his white fur glistening in the morning light, and his voice carried across the battlefield like a roar.


    ¡°You want to kill me? Come then! Try it! I¡¯ll make sure not a single one of you leaves here alive.¡±


    For a brief second, the gang hesitated, their confidence shaken by the sheer presence of the Zoanthrope. But fear quickly turned to bravado as they tried to mask their hesitation with mockery.


    ¡°Look at this mangy beast,¡± one sneered, laughing nervously. ¡°You think you¡¯re better than us, mutt? You¡¯re nothing but a sideshow freak!¡±


    ¡°Bloody lowlife!¡± another spat. ¡°We¡¯ll show you your place, you filthy animal.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re just a glitching shadow.¡± A fourth voice, trembling but louder to compensate, called out, ¡°You¡¯re just a walking corpse, Koala! Your little Shinten tricks won¡¯t save you!¡±


    At the word Koala, something inside Nobu snapped. His jaw clenched, and a dark fury burned in his eyes. He exhaled slowly, his anger palpable, and murmured, ¡°Now you¡¯ve done it.¡±


    The jeers came in a tide, growing louder as the gang moved forward, their weapons raised. Yet beneath their taunts, Nobu could sense their unease¡ªthe way their grips tightened on their weapons, the way some glanced at each other for reassurance.


    Nobu adjusted his stance, his swords gleaming as he prepared for their next charge. His crimson eyes locked onto the gang, unblinking and resolute.


    ¡°I¡¯ll show you,¡± he muttered under his breath, his voice low and seething, ¡°just how wrong you are.¡±

 Chapter 14: Brawl at the Graveyard of the Living Part 3

    Zuri¡¯s chest rose and fell steadily, her stance unwavering as she squared off against Scuttle.


    Zuri, a 15-year-old girl with dark brown skin like polished ebony, stood firm. Her black curls¡ªinterwoven with shoulder-length dreadlocks¡ªframed her face, swaying faintly with each motion. A sleeveless crop top revealed her toned arms, and snug blue jeans gave her freedom to move. Three large metallic rings rested on each forearm, with a fourth gripped tightly in her hand, her fingers curling around it with ease.


    Scuttle''s face twisted in fury, his thin mustache twitching as he stomped forward. The lingering pain from Zuri''s earlier kick to his groin was clear in his stiff, uneven stride. In his hands, he gripped a jagged whip, its length studded with sharp metal shards meant to tear through flesh like butter. He spun it lazily, the whip emitting a harsh whir, punctuated by the grating scrape of metal against metal, filling the air with a menacing sound.


    ¡°You¡¯ve got guts, brat,¡± Scuttle sneered. ¡°But humiliating me? That''s your last mistake.¡±


    Zuri rolled her eyes, flexing her arms as the rings around her forearms shifted subtly with her movements. ¡°Oh, Mouse man,¡± she mocked, tilting her head. ¡°What¡¯s the matter? Still feeling sore?¡±


    Scuttle¡¯s face darkened at her taunt, his expression twisting into one of barely-contained fury. His triangular face, framed by short, neatly parted hair, reddened as his curled moustache twitched violently. His large, mouse-like ears¡ªtoo big to be average but not quite as exaggerated as a true demi-human.


    He resembled a humanoid rodent so closely that anyone who glanced at him might assume he was a half-breed. The resemblance was uncanny, right down to the sharp angles of his face and the way his ears stood out. The only thing confirming his humanity was the absence of a tail; a detail that should have set him apart as human but instead became a source of bitterness, as it reminded him of the constant comparisons to demi-humans. Being mistaken for a mouse hybrid was a sore point for Scuttle, dredging up memories he preferred to bury, and her taunt hit like a dagger to the heart of his insecurities.


    His voice came out as a low, menacing growl, trembling with rage. ¡°Keep running that mouth, little girl. Let¡¯s see if you¡¯re still laughing when I¡¯ve got you face down in the dirt, begging me to stop.¡± He snapped the whip with a vicious flick of his wrist, the sharp crack punctuating his next words. ¡°I will see how clever that tongue of yours is when I carve it clean off.¡±


    Zuri tilted her head, her lips curling into a mocking smirk. ¡°Yap-Yap Mouse Man, your threats are as pathetic as your face. You¡¯d scare me more if you just stood there quietly.¡±


    Scuttle stepped forward, snapping the whip again, its jagged shards tearing through the air. ¡°Let¡¯s see if you¡¯re still yappin'' when you¡¯re on your knees, brat!¡±


    Zuri¡¯s fists tightened around her rings. ¡°On my knees? Funny. I was about to say the same to you.¡±


    She had no time for games, not when so many innocent lives were at stake. Adjusting her stance, her bare toes dug into the scorched dirt for balance. The rings around her forearms caught the light, clinking faintly with each subtle shift.


    ¡°Big talk for a guy who¡¯s still limping from a fifteen-year-old¡¯s foot,¡± Zuri said, ¡°Bet that bruise¡¯s gonna hurt more than your pride tomorrow.¡±


    With a roar, Scuttle lashed out, the whip slicing toward her. Zuri moved instinctively, her Anima-enhanced muscles twitching with energy, surging through her body as she sprang into action. She raised her arm, spinning the rings to intercept the blow. The whip struck with a metallic clang, sparks flying as the jagged edges scraped against her rings. The force jolted her arm, but she held firm, her feet digging into the blood-soaked earth.


    ¡°You¡¯re quick,¡± Scuttle growled, yanking the whip back and swinging again.


    ¡°And you¡¯re slow,¡± Zuri shot back, leaping to the side. But the sting from her earlier wound, the sword wound from Fallow flared, fresh blood seeping through the bandages. Zuri bit back a hiss, but Scuttle¡¯s sharp eyes didn¡¯t miss it. His smirk widened like a wolf catching a scent.


    ¡°Slowing down already, huh?¡± he taunted, snapping the whip with a cruel flick. This time, it struck true. The jagged metal grazed her shoulder, shredding the fabric of her crop top and reopening the wound. Zuri stumbled back, her knees nearly buckling as a fresh jolt of pain shot through her arm. Blood trickled down her arm, staining her fingers red.


    Scuttle advanced, sensing an opening. ¡°Tougher with words than with flesh, huh, brat?¡± he sneered, snapping the whip toward her. Zuri raised her rings to block, but the impact rattled through her bones, her wounded arm throbbing harder.


    Zuri dodged the next strike, closing the distance between them. With a sharp pivot, she drove her ring-covered knuckles into Scuttle¡¯s forearm. He grunted in pain, the whip almost slipping from his grasp.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    He quickly threw the whip to his other hand and swung it, this time in a wide arc aimed at her legs. Zuri jumped, twisting mid-air and bringing her rings down onto the whip, pinning it to the ground. Before Scuttle could yank it free, she slammed a second punch into his jaw, the impact enhanced by her Anima enhanced strength.


    ¡°You¡¯re tough, but you¡¯re still just a kid!¡± Scuttle snarled, letting go of the whip.


    Not wasting a second, Zuri spun her body, using her momentum to deliver a crushing elbow strike to his ribs. The rings on her forearm clanged loudly against his armor, and Scuttle stumbled back, clutching his side.


    ¡°You little¡ª¡± he growled, reaching for the dagger at his belt.


    Zuri dodged his wild slashes, her movements were fluid and precise. She deflected the blade with her rings, sparks flying with each clash. She slammed her fist into his wrist, forcing the dagger to clatter to the ground. In a desperate attempt Scuttle swung his other arm wildly, but Zuri ducked under the blow, her agility and training kept her just out of reach. She retaliated with a rising uppercut, her rings catching his jaw with a sickening crack.


    The gang members nearby jeered and hollered, egging Scuttle on. ¡°Get her, Scuttle! Don¡¯t let a kid show you up!¡±


    Zuri ignored them. Her eyes burned with fury as she circled her opponent, her voice cutting through the noise. ¡°You call yourselves men? You slaughter children, crucify the weak, and laugh about it? How can anyone be so heartless? so cruel?¡±


    Scuttle chuckled darkly, wiping blood from his mouth. ¡°Heartless? Cruel? brat, this world is built on cruelty. You think you¡¯re special, girl? You think your kind hasn¡¯t seen worse? The things they did to your kin¡­¡± His grin widened cruelly. ¡°Makes me wonder how you even survived, slave.¡±


    The word hit like a hammer. Zuri froze, her breath catching as the weight of his words settled over her. The cries of the villagers seemed to grow louder, the images of the stakes burning into her vision. Her fists tightened, her rings grinding against each other.


    ¡°What did you just say?¡± she questioned, her voice low.


    ¡°You heard me,¡± Scuttle sneered. ¡°Slaves like you don¡¯t last long in a world like this. Guess you¡¯re the exception. For now.¡±


    Zuri¡¯s teeth clenched. The anger bubbling inside her erupted, Anima surging through her muscles. Her rings, they chimed softly the air around her humming with a dangerous tension.


    ¡°Say that again,¡± she said, her voice low and dangerous.


    ¡°I said¡ª¡±


    She didn¡¯t let him finish. With a roar, Zuri lunged forward, her rings spinning rapidly as she unleashed a barrage of strikes. One punch to his stomach, forcing the air from his lungs in a rough wheeze. Another to his shoulder, dislocating it with a sickening pop.


    Scuttle roared, desperation fueling his next move. Instead of retreating, he lunged at Zuri, grabbing her injured arm in an iron grip. Her sharp cry pierced the air as his fingers dug into the raw wound, grinding the torn flesh. Fire shot through her body, the agony so intense her vision swam in a haze of red.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong, girl?¡± Scuttle snarled, his face inches from hers, spittle flying as he hissed the words. ¡°You¡¯re not so cocky now, are you?¡±


    Zuri growled through gritted teeth, sweat mixing with the blood trickling down her arm. She could feel the strength in her limbs faltering, the world around her narrowing to his cruel, gloating face.


    ¡°Let¡­ go!¡± she roared, twisting her body with everything she had left. Her free hand shot up, the ring clenched so tightly her knuckles ached. With all the force she could muster, she smashed it into Scuttle¡¯s temple. The brutal crack of metal against bone silenced the jeering around them.


    Scuttle staggered, his movements wild and desperate. He swung a clumsy fist, but Zuri caught his arm with a ring, twisting it with a sharp crack. He screamed, his knees buckling, but she didn¡¯t stop. She spun behind him, her movements relentless, and brought both fists down onto his back. The impact sent him crashing to the ground, his face hitting the blood-soaked dirt.


    Zuri faltered back, clutching her wounded arm. Blood ran in thin rivulets down her knuckles, streaking her forearms in dark red. Scuttle groaned, his hands fumbling against the blood-soaked dirt as he tried to push himself up. Before he could move an inch, Zuri stepped forward, her shadow looming over him like a judge about to pass sentence.


    ¡°You don¡¯t get to talk about my kind,¡± Zuri spat, her knee pressing into his spine. Her voice shook with anger, but her gaze burned with unyielding resolve. She slammed her foot into his side, rolling him onto his back.


    Scuttle coughed, blood dripping from his mouth. ¡°You¡­ little¡­¡±


    ¡°You tried to use my wound to break me,¡± Zuri said, her voice calm but edged with fury. She wiped the blood from her mouth with the back of a trembling hand. ¡°But all you did was remind me how much pain I can take. You should¡¯ve run when you had the chance.¡±


    ¡°And this is for every woman, every child, every innocent soul you¡¯ve hurt,¡± she said. She stood, dragging him up by his collar before delivering a final, bone-rattling punch to his face. His head snapped to the side, and his body went limp, unconscious.


    Zuri stood over him, breathing heavily. The jeers of the gang fell silent, replaced by a tense, shocked quiet. Slowly, she adjusted her rings, her hands trembling slightly. Looking down at the pathetic figure sprawled at her feet, she let out a slow, steady breath.


    ¡°Talk all you want,¡± she said, her tone cold and steady. ¡°But trash like you? You''ll always end up face-first in the dirt.¡±

 Chapter 15: Brawl at the Graveyard of the Living Part 4

    Fuma¡¯s sharp eye swept across the battlefield, taking in the chaos. Swords clashed, blood splattered the ground, and shouts of fury echoed through the grim forest of stakes. Yet amidst the turmoil, Fuma¡¯s gaze locked onto a lone figure¡ªstoic and calm.


    Fallow.


    The swordsman stood motionless, his hand resting on the hilt of his sharp blade, his unfazed gaze slicing through the battlefield like an invisible blade. Dirt clung to the black t-shirt stretched over his powerful frame, while his military-style pants were stained with sweat and dried blood, weathered face¡ªa face that had seen wars, battles, and countless life and death struggles. His slicked-back muddy brown hair gleamed faintly under the overcast sky, as if untouched by the surrounding destruction. Early forties, calm yet lethal, he exuded the kind of presence that made lesser men falter.


    Fuma¡¯s single visible eye narrowed.


    He¡¯s the one.


    Ivo had already marked Boko Salerno, their leader. It was only fitting that Fuma would take on Fallow¡ªBoko''s right hand and the most dangerous man on the field. His heart quickened, but his resolve remained steady. He knew this would be no ordinary fight.


    Fuma darted to the edge of the fray, positioning himself a good distance away from Fallow. Despite being only seventeen, he was the brain of the Magnificent Guild. Ivo might have been the body¡ªthe brawn that kept them moving forward¡ªbut Fuma? Fuma was the strategist. Every maneuver and contingency came from his sharp intellect.


    ¡°Alright,¡± he muttered under his breath, a slight smirk tugging at his lips, ¡°let¡¯s see how tough you really are.¡±


    Fuma spread his arms wide, his fingers curling as a surge of Pneuma erupted from his body. The air around him crackled, shimmering as energy coalesced and took form.


    Fallow''s lips twitched into the faintest smile, his hand resting lightly on the hilt. "You¡¯re smarter than the others, kid," he said, his voice low. "You know when you¡¯ve found something worth being afraid of."


    Fuma smirked back, though his chest felt tight. "Not afraid¡­ just aware. There¡¯s a difference."


    A roar shook the battlefield¡ªdeep and reverberating¡ªas a massive Pneuma Dragon materialized above him. The beast¡¯s serpentine body coiled through the air, its scales glowing like molten gold, its eyes blazing with raw energy.


    Fallow tilted his head, his calm expression unchanging as he looked up at the dragon. ¡°Hm.¡±


    ¡°Rend him apart!¡± Fuma¡¯s voice carried across the field like a command of thunder.


    The Pneuma Dragon roared again and shot forward, a torrent of energy descending upon Fallow like a storm. The ground quaked as the barrage rained down, thunderous and relentless. Dust and debris exploded into the air, obscuring the battlefield in a haze of chaos.


    Yet through it all, a shadow moved.


    Fuma¡¯s eyes widened as Fallow emerged from the haze, his blade flashed, and his body became a blur. He sidestepped the dragon''s head just as it slammed into the earth, dust and debris exploding in every direction. Keeping his distance, Fuma shifted his position and launched another dragon.


    Fallow didn''t retreat. Instead, he advanced.


    His sharp blade gleamed as he closed the distance, his steps steady, precise.


    He¡¯s closing the distance.


    Fuma''s pulse pounded in his ears. He sent dragon after dragon toward the advancing swordsman, each one crashing with devastating force, churning up the ground in showers of rock and dirt. Yet, like a phantom, Fallow weaved between the attacks, his form flickering in and out of view through the chaos. His movements were deliberate, calculated.


    Fuma gritted his teeth, frustration clawing at him.


    He¡¯s too fast.


    ¡°Taste this!¡± Fuma shouted, and he leapt backward, flipping mid-air as he unleashed another streak of Pneuma. The dragon reared its head and struck again, but Fallow weaved through the onslaught, his blade slicing through the ground in long arcs.


    The air itself howled¡ªa shockwave of wind slicing toward Fuma.


    ¡°Damn!¡± Fuma twisted to the side, narrowly avoiding the brunt of the attack. Yet the wind grazed his cheek, sharp as a blade. A thin cut opened on his face, blood trickling down. He flinched, his hand instinctively touching the wound.


    Even from a distance¡­ This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    He looked at Fallow, who came to a stop a few yards away, his blade lowered. His eyes were calm, but the weight of his presence pressed down on Fuma like a boulder.


    "Distance doesn¡¯t matter," Fallow said calmly, wiping the edge of his blade with a flick of his wrist. "Not when the blade can reach where I want it to."


    Fuma scowled but said nothing. He was already calculating, scenarios spinning through his mind.


    Distance isn¡¯t enough. He¡¯s too fast.


    Fallow shifted his stance, raising his blade again. ¡°Impressive Pneuma control, I¡¯ll admit. But it won¡¯t matter.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s see how long you can keep up,¡± Fuma said.


    Gathering his breath, Fuma stepped back further, both hands now outstretched. The Pneuma dragon¡¯s form splintered and multiplied¡ªthinner, faster serpents emerging from the larger body. They swirled behind him like an ominous storm cloud, each tendril of energy waiting for his command.


    With a swift motion of his palms, Fuma sent the dragons forward. They shot toward Fallow in a relentless barrage, their piercing cries drowning out the sounds of battle around them.


    The dragons twisted and writhed, striking at Fallow from every direction. Fallow¡¯s eyes narrowed, unreadable¡ªas he lifted his blade.


    CLANG! His blade struck one dragon slicing it clean in two¡ªits form dispersing into shimmering dust¡ªand then another, and another. His blade moving faster than the eye could follow. Fuma barely registered the sequence; the movement was so precise, so fast, it was as if time itself slowed down.


    He watched in horror as his dragons fell, chopped into segments mid-air. The remnants of the energy shimmered around Fallow¡¯s figure, falling like golden snowflakes. When the final dragon shattered, Fallow stood, untouched, his blade gleaming in the aftermath.


    Fuma¡¯s breath hitched. His mind went blank.


    How¡­?


    Fallow broke the silence. ¡°You¡¯re not an Evoker, are you?¡± he said, his tone edged with curiosity. ¡°You¡¯re no Summoner. I can see it.¡±


    Fuma¡¯s eyes widened slightly, but he said nothing.


    Fallow stepped forward, resting the blade on his shoulder. ¡°Well? Am I wrong? You¡¯re an Enhancer, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    Fuma remained silent, his mind racing again.


    Fallow let out a short, humourless chuckle. ¡°Why go through so much trouble to shape your Pneuma into dragons and serpents? That kind of complexity does nothing for an Enhancer, a waste of effort.¡±


    "..."


    ¡°What¡¯s the matter? Didn¡¯t think anyone would catch on?¡± Fallow took another step forward.


    Fuma¡¯s jaw tightened. He didn¡¯t speak, sweat dripping down his temple as he thought.


    Fallow tilted his head slightly. "You¡¯re still calculating. Thinking of your next move. It won¡¯t help you."


    For the first time, Fuma felt a flicker of doubt. I need to end this now¡­ Then his gaze flickered behind Fallow, an idea sparking. Slowly, deliberately, he let his posture relax, releasing Pneuma from his body, allowing it to disperse into the surroundings.


    Fallow raised a brow, noticing Fuma''s shift in stance. "Giving up already?"


    Fuma smirked faintly. "Not quite."


    Fallow paused, his brow furrowing. ¡°What¡­?¡±


    Too late.


    Suddenly, the Pneuma gathered behind him exploded into motion. Thin, agile dragons sprang from the ground, their teeth sinking into Fallow''s arms, legs, and torso. Fallow spun violently, gritting his teeth as the pneuma dragons clawed and bit into his flesh, leaving jagged wounds and streaks of blood. He swung his blade, hacking through the forms, trying to shake them off but the dragons were too many, too relentless.


    Fuma straightened, wiping the blood from his cheek. ¡°Got you!¡±


    Fallow grunted, his teeth gritted as he swung his blade, slicing through the dragons. Their forms shattered into dust, but the damage had been done. His body was marred with fresh wounds, his black t-shirt torn and stained red, blood trickling down to his fingertips. For a moment, the battlefield stilled. Fuma exhaled deeply, his muscles trembling slightly from exertion.


    Fuma recalled the dispersed Pneuma, the energy flowing back into his body like a current. Enhancers had that advantage¡ªthey could reclaim what was theirs.


    But Fallow didn¡¯t fall.


    Instead, he stood straighter. His chest heaved, blood dripped steadily from his wounds, but his face remained unreadable. Slowly, he turned his gaze to Fuma.


    Fuma¡¯s stomach twisted.


    How is he still standing?


    Fallow flexed his arms, the bite marks stinging as he glared at Fuma. ¡°I¡¯ll admit¡­ that was clever. But you¡¯ll need more to defeat me.¡±


    I can¡¯t overpower him head-on¡­ but if I keep my distance and chip away at him¡­


    Fallow stepped forward, "You thought that would stop me?"


    Fuma blinked, his mind stalling for just a moment. Fallow smiled faintly, a ghost of something bitter in his expression.


    "Pain stopped hurting a long time ago." He swung his blade, and Fuma barely managed to leap back, his shoes skidding through the blood-soaked ground.


    He stared at Fallow,


    What kind of life has this man lived?


    Fuma''s heart pounded against his ribs as Fallow moved towards him, calm and unrelenting, like a storm that knew its destination. His feet shifted, ready to move, but for a moment¡ªjust a brief, fleeting moment¡ªhis focus faltered. A thought slid into his mind like a whisper.


    Did this man¡­ live a life more ruthless than mine?


    The battle before him blurred, sound warping into a distant hum as the dark recesses of his mind cracked open. As Fallow¡¯s steps neared, his vision dimmed and his mind spiraled into a memory he could never escape.

 Chapter 16: Brawl at the Graveyard of the Living Part 5

    There he was, no older than 14, trembling and naked amidst a group of equally terrified boys. The stone floor beneath them was freezing, though sweat slicked their trembling bodies, mingling with the grime of their confinement. The air stank of incense and smoke, thick and choking, as though the heavens themselves turned away from this place. Around them, people chanted¡ªvoices raised in fevered cries of desperation, hope, and madness.


    At the far end of the hall stood a jarring statue, towering over everything else. It was a long, serpentine dragon, its body coiled around a jagged spire. Its gaping maw was filled with razor-sharp teeth, and its hollow eyes seemed to glare down at the proceedings. The people called it Lord Ryuzoji. Offerings of rotted fruit, crude wooden carvings, and bloodied cloth were strewn at its base. Wax from countless candles dripped over the altar, pooling at the feet of the statue like molten tears.


    ¡°Please, great Ryuzoji, hear our cries!¡± a woman wailed, clutching a withered bundle of what might have once been flowers. Her voice cracked with desperation. ¡°End the drought! Save our children!¡±


    Another man fell to his knees, pounding his fists against the floor. ¡°Spare us! We¡¯ll give you whatever you want!¡± he sobbed, his voice raw.


    The crowd surged forward, their cries growing louder. ¡°Make the god happy!¡± someone screamed. ¡°Offer more blood! More sacrifices!¡±


    Fuma stood frozen, his bare feet rooted to the icy stone, trembling so violently he thought his legs might give out. His eyes darted toward the monstrous statue, its sinister visage only amplifying the suffocating terror gripping his chest. Around him, the other boys whimpered, their small hands clutching at one another as if the touch could ward off what was coming.


    The man at the center of it all, the priest, stepped forward¡ªrobes of red and black flowing around him like flames. He was an imposing figure, gaunt and hollow-eyed, as if he hadn¡¯t slept in years. His cracked voice reverberated through the space, piercing through the chaos of chants.


    ¡°Oh Lord Ryuzoji!¡± the priest bellowed, spreading his arms to the sky. His movements were theatrical, almost serpentine, mimicking the god they worshiped. ¡°Our saviour, our God! Accept this sacrifice and deliver us from suffering!¡±


    The crowd erupted in a frenzied chorus of agreement. ¡°Praise Ryuzoji-Sama!¡± they chanted. ¡°Blessed be the sacrifice!¡±


    Fuma¡¯s knees buckled as the priest¡¯s bony hand seized him, dragging him to the center of the hall. He clawed at the floor, trying to resist, but the man¡¯s grip was like iron. Tears streamed down his face; his cries muffled by his own terror.


    ¡°Please! No!¡± he screamed, his voice cracking. ¡°I don¡¯t want to die!¡±


    The priest paid no mind, his voice rising above Fuma¡¯s protests. ¡°Accept this life!¡± he roared, his voice shaking the walls. ¡°Bless your children once more! Grant us rain! Grant us prosperity!¡±


    Fuma¡¯s struggling grew frantic as the priest raised a long, jagged knife.


    ¡°No! Stop!¡± Fuma shrieked, his voice lost amidst the crowd¡¯s fervent cheering.


    The blade came down.


    Fuma¡¯s body convulsed as the knife pressed against his face. The priest worked with terrifying precision, plunging the blade into his left eye. Hot, unbearable pain ripped through his skull, and Fuma screamed¡ªa sound that shattered through the hall like a banshee¡¯s wail. His shrieks echoed, shaking the rafters above as the crowd erupted in cheers laughing, clapping, jubilant cries mixing with his agonized wails.


    Blood poured down his face, slick and sticky, blinding him to the world. He heard the priest chant louder, his words indistinguishable but soaked in malice. The knife scratched cruelly down his cheek, leaving a thin scar just below his now-empty socket.


    ¡°The drought ends! The Lord is satisfied!¡± the priest proclaimed, holding the bloodied blade aloft like a trophy, he threw Fuma¡¯s limp body aside like a piece of garbage. Fuma hit the cold stone floor, hands clutching the ruin where his eye had once been.


    The cheering grew louder¡ªa cruel, mocking choir as he curled up, his body shaking from sobs and agony.


    The memory shattered like glass.


    Fuma¡¯s breath came out ragged, his chest rising and falling as he returned to the present. He felt his hand instinctively go to the lock of hair that covered his scar¡ªhis fingers brushing against it as if to reassure himself it was still hidden. He blinked his remaining eye to clear the haze.


    Before him, Fallow was advancing, steps steady and deliberate.


    Focus, Fuma thought, shaking the memory off.


    You can¡¯t falter here.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    Fuma exhaled sharply, his posture straightening. He spread his stance as his hands began to hum faintly with flowing Pneuma. His gaze locked onto Fallow¡¯s approaching form.


    ¡°Come on, old man. You call that running? Did age finally catch up with you?¡± Fuma muttered under his breath, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.


    Fallow tilted his head, his weathered face showing no emotion. ¡°Still got time to mouth off, huh?¡± He pointed his razor-sharp sword towards Fuma, the steel gleamed darkly against the crimson-soaked ground.


    Don¡¯t think. Move.


    Fuma charged forward, Pneuma flowing through his arms, enhancing every muscle fiber to its limit. Fallow swung first¡ªhis blade arcing fast and wide. The impact of the air following the swing was deafening, splitting the silence like thunder. Fuma ducked, just barely avoiding the sweeping blade. Blood welled up instantly from his scar on cheek, stinging against the cold wind.


    Fuma flinched but didn¡¯t stop. Instead, he pivoted, bringing his hands up in a sharp motion, deflecting the follow-up strike just enough to sidestep it. The ground beneath them kicked up dust as the two clashed¡ªFuma dancing between deadly swings with impressive speed, while Fallow advanced with calculated precision, each strike deliberate and bone-shaking.


    ¡°Fighting me barehanded against a blade? Ballsy,¡± Fallow said, voice as calm as ever, though sweat glistened on his forehead.


    ¡°Blades are a crutch,¡± Fuma shot back, his lips twitching into a grin despite the blood trailing down his face. He shifted his weight, dodging another horizontal slash, before planting his feet firmly. His fist snapped forward, connecting with Fallow¡¯s stomach.


    At that exact moment, Pneuma surged from Fuma¡¯s fist like a cannon blast. A burst of energy exploded outwards, the shockwave kicking up dirt and rattling nearby stakes. Fallow¡¯s eyes widened slightly as the impact sent him flying backwards, his body screeching across the blood-soaked ground before slamming into a stake. The wood cracked audibly under the force.


    Fuma didn¡¯t pause his gaze shot across the battlefield. There, in the distance, he saw Ivo collapse under Boko Salerno¡¯s relentless punches.


    ¡°Captain!¡± Fuma shouted, his voice sharp with panic.


    For a split second, his attention wavered.


    Too late.


    Fallow was already moving¡ªhis silhouette a blur. He closed the distance in the blink of an eye, blade swinging straight for Fuma¡¯s head. Fuma barely managed to twist away, the edge of the blade whistling past his ear. A stray lock of his hair floated to the ground.


    ¡°Paying attention elsewhere while you¡¯re fighting me?¡± Fallow sneered; his voice edged with disdain. ¡°How disrespectful, kid.¡±


    Fuma clenched his fists, his thoughts racing. He had to get to Ivo. But Fallow wasn¡¯t letting up the man was relentless.


    Fuma struck back, dodging another swipe before launching a Pneuma-infused punch square into Fallow¡¯s jaw. The swordsman¡¯s head snapped to the side, blood spraying from his mouth as he staggered backwards. Fuma didn¡¯t waste a second. His sharp gaze darted across the battlefield, scanning through the chaos until it locked onto Nobu.


    ¡°Nobu!¡± Fuma shouted, his voice carrying across the chaos.


    At the sound of his name, Nobu¡¯s ears twitched, his massive form turning towards Fuma. Polar-bear fur bristling, Nobu stood amidst a pile of unconscious gang members, his twin swords dripping with fresh blood as he jerked them to the side, flinging the crimson droplets onto the ground. His deep, gravelly voice boomed across the battlefield.


    ¡°Hold on, Fuma! I¡¯m coming!¡±


    Fallow didn¡¯t let up. With a burst of speed, he lunged again Fuma barely catching the strike with his enhanced hands. Sparks flew as steel clashed with Pneuma-coated skin.


    ¡°You¡¯re done,¡± Fallow growled, pressing forward.


    Fallow¡¯s sharp eyes widened as he spotted Nobu charging toward them. With a quick movement, Fallow leapt backward, disengaging from Fuma. His boots skidded across the bloodied ground as he adjusted his stance, his blade rising to meet this new threat.


    ¡°Another one?¡± Fallow muttered, his voice cold and edged with anger. ¡°Let¡¯s see what you¡¯ve got.¡±


    Nobu¡¯s deep growl rolled like thunder as he closed the distance. ¡°Get away from him!¡± he roared, swinging both of his long swords in a wide arc. The blades hissed through the air, slamming against Fallow¡¯s weapon with a deafening clang.


    The impact sent a shockwave rippling outward, kicking up dirt and blood. Fallow grunted, bracing himself against the force, but his feet slid backward slightly. With a sharp shove, he pushed Nobu away, his stance steadying once more.


    Nobu didn¡¯t relent. His muscles coiled, and he lunged again, one blade aimed high and the other low. Fallow¡¯s movements were a blur as he parried the first strike and twisted to avoid the second.


    Fuma took a step back, his chest heaving as he watched the intense exchange. Nobu¡¯s words broke through the clash of blades.


    ¡°Go help Captain!¡± Nobu said gruffly, his teeth bared in a snarl. His fiery gaze didn¡¯t waver from Fallow. ¡°I¡¯ll handle him.¡±


    Without hesitation, Fuma nodded. ¡°I¡¯m on it!¡± he shouted, turning on his heel and sprinting toward Ivo. His shoes pounded against the churned ground, the chaos of the battlefield blurring around him as he focused on reaching his Captain.


    Behind him, Fallow¡¯s voice rang out, sharp and mocking. ¡°Running already?¡± He shifted his focus back to Nobu, a predatory gleam in his eyes. ¡°And you mutt! ¡ªyou let my prey escape. Now you¡¯re dead meat.¡±


    Nobu narrowed his eyes, his twin blades gleaming as he shifted into a defensive stance. ¡°Big talk for someone who¡¯s about to get skinned alive.¡±


    Fallow¡¯s smirk widened. ¡°Damn animal, talking about skinning someone.¡±


    The air between them seemed to crackle with tension as they circled each other, their steps slow and deliberate. Fallow lunged forward, his blade cutting through the air with deadly precision. Nobu met the strike with a powerful block, the impact sending another wave of sparks flying.


    As Fuma sprinted toward Ivo, the clash of steel rang out behind him, sparks scattering like fireflies under a stormy sky as Nobu and Fallow collided in a blinding exchange of blows.

 Chapter 17: Brawl at the Graveyard of the Living Part 6

    The battlefield was a hushed chaos now, the deafening roars and clashes of steel had fallen into an eerie lull. Most of the gang members lay sprawled on the ground¡ªsome wounded, others paralyzed by fear, their will to fight extinguished. A few still clung to their savagery, snarling and held their weapons, determined to fight despite the odds. Among them, others had shifted to tending to their comrades, their resolve broken by fear or injury.


    Scuttle lay motionless, his body sprawled on the dirt like a discarded puppet. Zuri moved like a tigress among prey, her rings slicing through the air with deadly precision. She evaded every strike aimed at her, leaping and spinning in a mesmerizing dance of death, her focus sharp as she hunted down the remaining gang members with unrelenting ferocity.


    Nobu and Fallow were locked in a brutal exchange, their weapons clashing with bone-jarring force. Nobu¡¯s twin swords bore the weight of his exhaustion, his movements slightly slower after felling more than two dozen gang members yet he was determined. Fallow grinned with bloodied lips, his blade a blur as he pressed on, unrelenting. Nobu¡¯s muscles strained, his polar-bear fur matted with sweat and blood, but he didn¡¯t falter. This was no ordinary fight; it was a test of will, and Nobu refused to yield.


    The villagers watched in tense silence from the edges of the battlefield. The stakes still stood tall in the distance, where their kin and the guild members were tied, beaten, and bloodied. The cries of children¡ªwhimpering, groaning in pain¡ªcarried through the air like ghostly echoes, each sound a dagger to the hearts of those who heard it. Yet, the villagers stood frozen, rooted in place as though their feet had become part of the earth itself.


    Fear gripped them¡ªthe kind of fear that robbed a person of their strength, their resolve. It was a suffocating force, heavy as a shroud, binding their limbs and silencing their voices. Even as they saw their saviors fighting valiantly, even as the tide of the battle seemed to shift, the villagers couldn¡¯t bring themselves to act. The stakes, with their horrifying display of human suffering, were not just physical objects but symbols of their submission. Each bloodied figure tied to those wooden stakes served as a grim reminder of the gang¡¯s cruelty, a warning etched into their minds that resistance meant death¡ªor worse.


    Fear, that insidious force, was a poison. It turned conviction into paralysis, twisting the mind to accept injustice as an unchangeable truth. It whispered lies into their ears: You are too weak. You cannot win. Fighting will only bring more suffering. The villagers had internalized those lies so deeply that even their most primal instincts¡ªto protect their children, to save their own¡ªhad been buried under the weight of terror.


    Yet fear was not the absence of courage but its proving ground. Courage wasn¡¯t ordinary¡ªit was a spark that ignited revolutions, a gift bestowed upon the few who dared to stand against tyranny. It was what separated those who acted from those who only watched. Courage was not the lack of fear but the ability to rise in spite of it, to refuse to let the iron fist of terror crush the flicker of hope. Without it, humanity would remain enslaved to its own dread, a prisoner in chains forged by its own mind.


    The villagers'' hearts ached as they watched the stakes, their breaths shallow and their hands trembling. They could hear the faint cries of their loved ones, but their bodies refused to move. Mothers clenched their fists, fathers grit their teeth, and children hid behind them, peering out with wide, tearful eyes. Their fear wasn¡¯t just of the gang or the stakes¡ªit was of the memories of those who had tried to fight back before and paid with their lives.


    In front of the villagers stood Clergyman Winfreth. Blood dripped from the head of his staff, but his hands remained clasped in prayer. His eyes were closed, his face serene, a portrait of unwavering faith in the divine even in the face of despair. He whispered prayers, his lips moving silently as though summoning strength from a higher power for the fighters on the field.


    <hr>


    Meanwhile, at the heart of the battlefield, Ivo staggered, his legs barely supporting him. Blood dripped from his mouth, and his breaths came shallow and ragged. Each step felt like dragging a mountain and every breath was a struggle. Before him, Boko Salerno charged with the force of a storm, his enormous fists clenched and ready to crush everything in his path, his smirk a cruel reminder of his dominance.


    Ivo¡¯s mind went blank. His purpose, his resolve all of it dissolved into the haze of exhaustion and despair, his vision blurring. He felt nothing but resignation, his battered body no longer responding to his will. Boko¡¯s massive shadow engulfed him, the final blow imminent. His colossal fist, ready to bring it down on Ivo in a crushing blow. Time seemed to slow. The air thickened with the inevitability of defeat.


    Then, a gust of wind tore through the stillness, sharp and sudden. With it came a radiant, serpentine form¡ªa golden Pneuma dragon streaking toward Boko. Its scales shimmered like sunlight on water, and its roar was a thunderclap. The dragon slammed into Boko with a ferocious roar, halting his advance and forcing him to skid backward.


    Fuma landed between Ivo and Boko, his stance firm, his fists crackling with golden pneuma (energy). He turned his head slightly, his sharp eyes fixed on Boko. ¡°You think you can hurt him?¡± Fuma¡¯s voice was steady, a quiet storm. ¡°Not on my watch.¡±


    Boko growled, wiping the corner of his mouth where the dragon had grazed him. His eyes burned with rage as Fuma released another Pneuma dragon, this one roaring louder and faster. Boko leapt back, his massive frame moving with agility, but the dragon¡¯s tail caught him mid-air, sending him crashing into the ground with a grunt.


    Ivo¡¯s eyes fluttered open, his vision blurry. He blinked, and through the haze, he saw Fuma standing tall, his back to him, unyielding like a shield. Ivo¡¯s breath hitched. For a moment, he felt small, weak, his knees buckled, and he fell to the ground, his head hanging low. Fuma glanced back at him, his gaze softening.


    ¡°Captain,¡± Fuma said, crouching to his level, ¡°get up.¡±


    ¡°It''s over, Fuma,¡± Ivo muttered, his voice hollow. ¡°We don¡¯t stand a chance. We can¡¯t¡­ we can¡¯t win. They¡¯re too strong. It''s hopeless.¡±


    Fuma placed his hand on Ivo¡¯s shoulder firmly, forcing him to look up. ¡°Is that why we created this guild? Is that why we¡¯re here¡ªto give up when it gets tough?¡± He gestured toward the stakes scattered around them. ¡°Look around you, Captain.¡±


    With effort, Ivo turned his head. His gaze fell on the stakes where women, children, and men were bound, their bodies battered, their faces obscured by white cloth. Their muffled cries carried through the battlefield a haunting reminder of their suffering. Even though their faces were hidden, their struggles to breathe, their faint groans of pain, and the subtle movements of their bodies spoke volumes. They hadn¡¯t given up. They clung to life, enduring the agony as though holding onto a fragile thread of hope, unseen but still burning within.


    ¡°They¡¯re still fighting, Captain,¡± Fuma said, his voice unwavering. ¡°Even now, with nothing left, they¡¯re fighting to survive, hoping that someone will save them. And that someone is us. We¡¯re their last hope¡ªwe can¡¯t fail them.¡±


    Ivo¡¯s chest tightened. He clenched his fists, his breathing deepening as Fuma¡¯s words ignited something within him. Purpose. Determination. He pushed himself to his feet, steadying his trembling legs. He looked Fuma in the eye and nodded, his expression hardened with resolve.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± Ivo said, his voice stronger now. ¡°We have to do this. No matter what.¡±


    Fuma grinned, stepping back. ¡°Then let¡¯s get to work. You handle that oversized bastard and I am going to free the people.¡±


    ¡°Thanks, Fuma. Now go. Get those people down safely¡±, Ivo said his tone calm.


    Fuma nodded and darted off toward the stakes, his movements swift and purposeful. Ivo turned back to Boko, who was already on his feet, his expression dark with fury.


    Ivo took a step forward, his voice a battle cry that rang across the battlefield. ¡°I¡¯m going to take down you, one way or another. Scarhead!¡±


    <hr>


    Nobu and Fallow stood a few paces apart, their breaths visible in the frigid air as they sized each other up. The ground beneath them was slick with blood and mud, the remnants of earlier clashes. Nobu¡¯s twin long swords gleamed under the morning light, while Fallow¡¯s single blade rested easily in his hand, its edge sharp.


    The tension between them snapped like a taut string, and they charged. Nobu¡¯s twin swords clashed against Fallow¡¯s blade in a burst of sparks. Their movements were swift, calculated, and ferocious. Fallow moved with the precision of a seasoned fighter, using the weight and length of his blade to his advantage, while Nobu¡¯s strikes were powerful yet controlled, each swing threatening to split the air itself.


    As Fallow pressed forward, he noticed Nobu¡¯s uncanny ability to evade at the last possible moment. A sharp vertical slash came down toward Nobu¡¯s shoulder, but his form shimmered briefly¡ªglitching¡ªand the blade passed harmlessly through him. Nobu countered instantly, his own sword slashing upward and forcing Fallow to leap back.


    ¡°What the¡ª¡± Fallow muttered, regaining his footing. He lunged again, testing, this time aiming low at Nobu¡¯s legs. Again, Nobu¡¯s form shimmered, phasing out of reality as Fallow¡¯s blade sliced through empty air. The Zoanthrope sidestepped, his crimson eyes calm and unyielding.


    ¡°Interesting trick,¡± Fallow said. His muddy brown hair was matted to his forehead, but his eyes gleamed with confidence. ¡°For a mutt.¡±


    Nobu didn¡¯t respond immediately. His eyes locked onto Fallow, steady and calculating. His towering frame, clad in his blue-and-red samurai outfit, radiated raw power. His grip on his swords tightened.


    Fallow smirked, feigning a loose grip on his weapon as he circled. ¡°Strong, fast, and tricky¡ªguess you¡¯re not just thick fur after all. I might even say you¡¯re wasted on that guild of yours.¡±


    Nobu remained silent, his muscles coiled like a spring. Fallow lunged once more, his blade aiming for Nobu¡¯s chest, but Nobu glitched again, his form shimmering just as the blade came close. Fallow¡¯s swing carried him slightly off balance, and Nobu seized the opportunity, delivering a punishing kick to his side that sent him skidding across the ground.


    Coughing, Fallow staggered to his feet, his smirk faltering only slightly. ¡°Impressive,¡± he said, spitting blood onto the ground. ¡°Looks like you¡¯re more than just a beast swinging swords. But you¡¯re still just a mutt trying to play samurai.¡±


    The Nobu''s expression didn¡¯t change, but his grip on his swords tightened.


    Fallow straightened, spinning his blade in a slow arc. ¡°I¡¯ll admit, your guild has talent. First an enhancer, now a lowly animal who can glitch¡ªan Evoker. Impressive. But tell me, why waste your strength serving a kid pretending to be a leader?¡±


    Nobu¡¯s lips pulled back in a slight snarl, exposing his sharp teeth. ¡°I made a promise,¡± he said simply, his voice deep and resonant. ¡°To be the sword of Ivo ¡®The Magnificent¡¯ Gadall. That¡¯s all you need to know.¡±


    Fallow snorted, raising his blade. ¡°A mutt like you, clinging to petty promises to a kid? Pathetic. Join us, and I promise you¡¯ll get the respect you deserve. We could use someone with your... tricks.¡±


    Nobu¡¯s stance didn¡¯t falter. ¡°Respect?¡± he echoed, his voice steady but cold. ¡°You mean the kind you show when you hang children and women on stakes? Or the kind where you treat Zoanthropes as less than human? No thanks.¡±


    Fallow¡¯s smirk twisted into a sneer. ¡°Suit yourself, beast. But don¡¯t expect me to go easy on you.¡±


    Without warning, Fallow lunged, his blade flashing in a deadly arc. Nobu didn¡¯t move until the last possible moment. His form shimmered, glitching as Fallow¡¯s blade passed through him harmlessly, as if slicing air.


    Fallow stumbled slightly, his eyes widening. ¡°Oh, so that¡¯s how it is,¡± he muttered, regaining his footing. ¡°No wonder you¡¯ve lasted this long.¡±


    Nobu didn¡¯t reply. He struck with one of his long swords, the blade coming down like a guillotine. Fallow parried, their weapons clashing with a deafening clang. Sparks flew as they traded blows, their movements blurring together. Nobu¡¯s strength was evident in every swing, each strike forcing Fallow to dig his heels into the bloodied ground.


    As the fight intensified, Fallow¡¯s frustration grew. Every time he aimed for a decisive strike, Nobu¡¯s body glitched, his attacks passing through without so much as a scratch. When Fallow adjusted his timing to try to exploit a moment after Nobu glitched, the Zoanthrope was already a step ahead, countering with brutal efficiency.


    ¡°You think you¡¯re clever, don¡¯t you?¡± Fallow snarled, his teeth clenched as he parried another strike. ¡°All these tricks, yet you¡¯re nothing more than a freak playing warrior.¡±


    Nobu¡¯s crimson eyes narrowed. He twisted his body, glitching through another swing of Fallow¡¯s blade before landing a solid kick to the man¡¯s chest. Fallow staggered back, spitting blood onto the ground.


    ¡°You think your words mean anything to me?¡± Nobu growled. His voice carried the weight of conviction. ¡°I fight for my comrades. For the weak. For those who can¡¯t defend themselves. That¡¯s something you¡¯ll never understand.¡±


    Fallow wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his expression darkening. ¡°You¡¯d die for them, wouldn¡¯t you? Throw your life away for that weakling of a captain and his pathetic ideals.¡±


    Nobu¡¯s grip on his swords tightened, his muscles coiling like a predator ready to strike. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t expect you to understand loyalty,¡± he said, his tone like ice. ¡°You only know power through fear. But strength isn¡¯t about crushing others. It¡¯s about protecting what matters.¡±


    With a roar, Nobu surged forward. His swords became blurs of motion, one aimed high and the other low. Fallow blocked the first and twisted to dodge the second, but Nobu glitched mid-strike, reappearing just behind him.


    Fallow barely managed to duck in time to avoid a blow that would have taken his head. He spun around, his blade slashing wildly. ¡°Stop disappearing, damn it!¡± he shouted, his voice laced with frustration.


    Nobu¡¯s voice was calm and deliberate. ¡°Disappearing? No. I¡¯m here to remind you that you will never win¡ªnot as long as people like us stand against you.¡±


    Their blades clashed once more, the sound of metal against metal ringing out across the battlefield. Flecks of fire burst from their blades as they pressed against each other, neither willing to give an inch. Fallow¡¯s grin twisted into a scowl as he growled, forcing Nobu back a step.


    ¡°Weak. Strong,¡± Fallow muttered, his voice laced with a mix of anger and conviction. ¡°It¡¯s all about power. If you¡¯re strong, you crush me. If I¡¯m strong, I crush you. It¡¯s as simple as that!¡± With a roar, he pushed Nobu back, their swords disengaging violently.


    Nobu regained his footing, his eyes narrowing. Fallow, however, lowered his weapon slightly, closing his eyes. His breathing steadied, his earlier desperation fading into a calm focus.


    Nobu tilted his head slightly, his ears twitching as he observed the sudden change in his opponent. Fallow wasn¡¯t retreating¡ªhe was thinking. Strategizing. The tension in the air thickened as the human warrior began recalling every clash, every movement, every instance where Nobu¡¯s glitching ability had given him an advantage.


    Nobu¡¯s instincts screamed at him not to let Fallow gain the upper hand. Without hesitation, he lunged forward, both swords aimed for Fallow¡¯s arms in a decisive strike. The twin blades cut through the air with deadly precision.


    At the last possible moment, Fallow¡¯s eyes snapped open, a smirk playing on his lips. Nobu¡¯s ears perked up, the fur bristling as a sudden sense of danger washed over him.


    Something wasn¡¯t right.

 Chapter 18: Brawl at the Graveyard of the Living Part 7

    Golden pneuma swirled around Fuma as he trembled, pouring every ounce of strength into his technique. Sweat poured down his face, his breath ragged, yet his determination didn¡¯t waver. His eyes fluttered shut, and for a moment, the battlefield seemed to pause. Then, with a sharp exhale, he thrust his hands forward, and multiple serpentine dragons erupted into existence.


    Smaller than the one he had summoned earlier, these serpentine creatures shimmered with an ethereal glow, their bellies rounder, their movements purposeful. The bellies of these dragons swayed as they coiled in midair before streaking toward the stakes like arrows of salvation.


    The villagers at the edges of the battlefield gasped, their fear mingling with awe as the dragons streaked toward the stakes. The dragons moved with precision, weaving through the chaos like threads of light. When they reached the stakes, their bodies writhed and twisted, their jaws snapped open, razor-sharp teeth gleaming as they chewed through the ropes binding the captives.


    One by one, the prisoners fell free, only to be swallowed gently into the dragons¡¯ glowing bellies¡ªsafe, weightless, and protected. It was a bizarre and mesmerizing sight¡ªthe glowing creatures cradling the captives within their golden light. The dragons spiralled back to the ground, landing softly near the villagers. Their mouths opened, and the freed prisoners tumbled onto the ground, gasping for air, their bodies trembling but alive.


    A man clutched his chest, his voice a weak whisper. ¡°By the gods¡­ he¡¯s saving them.¡±


    Another villager, her hands gripping a stick for support, stared in disbelief. ¡°He¡¯s just a boy. How is he doing this?¡±


    The dragons didn¡¯t pause. As soon as they released their cargo, they darted back to the stakes, repeating the process with tireless determination. But Fuma¡¯s body was beginning to falter. His vision blurred, his face was pale, his breath labored, and his shoulders trembled under the strain. His legs buckled, and he planted his feet firmly to steady himself, forcing himself to continue, his willpower the only thing keeping him upright.


    ¡°Look at him,¡± a villager murmured. ¡°He¡¯s exhausted, but he¡¯s not stopping.¡±


    Another shook his head. ¡°How much longer can he keep this up? There are still so many stakes¡­¡±


    Indeed, the stakes stretched endlessly into the distance, each one bearing the weight of suffering. Fuma¡¯s dragons worked relentlessly, but the battle with Fallow had already drained much of his Pneuma. As his Pneuma reserves dwindled, the golden glow of the dragons flickered faintly, like a lantern struggling against the wind.


    Fuma grit his teeth, his fingers quivering as he pushed more energy into the dragons. ¡°Just¡­ a little longer¡­¡± he whispered to himself. But deep down, he knew he was running on fumes, like a carriage on its last drop of fuel. If his Pneuma ran out completely, the dragons would disappear, leaving the captives helpless.


    Nearby, a child tugged at their father¡¯s sleeve. ¡°Papa, he¡¯s shining¡­ like a hero.¡±


    The father nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. ¡°Yes¡­ he is.¡±


    From the ranks of the gang, a furious shout rose above the murmurs. ¡°Stop him! Don¡¯t let him save them!¡±


    Several gang members broke away, weapons raised, charging toward Fuma with murderous intent. Fuma couldn¡¯t even glance at them. His concentration was absolute; the lives of those still bound to the stakes depended on it. The dragons needed his full focus, and any distraction could send the captives plummeting to the ground.


    The villagers cried out in alarm, but before the gang could reach Fuma, a metallic ring zipped through the air and struck one of them square in the chest, sending him sprawling. Another ring followed, hitting its target with precision. Zuri darted in, her movements sharp and fluid, even as blood streamed down her injured arm. Her dark eyes burned with determination, her rings flashing as she swung them with practiced ferocity.


    ¡°You¡¯re not laying a finger on him!¡± she growled, her voice firm despite her exhaustion.


    She leaped into the fray, her rings danced around her, deflecting blades and smashing into armor. One gang member swung a mace at her, but she ducked, spinning to deliver a crushing blow with a ring to his knee. He crumpled to the ground with a howl.


    ¡°Fuma, keep going!¡± she yelled over her shoulder, her eyes blazing with determination.


    Fuma didn¡¯t respond. He couldn¡¯t. His focus was entirely on the dragons, their golden forms now flickering like a flame nearing its end.


    More gang members charged toward him, and Zuri tightened her grip on the rings, ignoring the searing pain in her arm as she fought to keep them at bay. She swung her rings in wide arcs, creating a barrier between Fuma and his attackers. But the strain was beginning to show. Her movements slowed, her breathing ragged, and a gang member managed to graze her side with a blade. She stumbled but recovered, her eyes flashing with fury.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°I said stay back!¡± she screamed, slamming a ring into his chest and sending him flying.


    The villagers watched in stunned silence, their eyes fixed on the young girl who fought with the ferocity of a seasoned warrior and the boy whose golden dragons carried their people to safety. They didn¡¯t cheer. They didn¡¯t move. They simply watched, their breath caught in their throats as hope and fear warred within them.


    Blood loss and exhaustion were taking their toll.


    ¡°He¡¯s¡­ not done yet,¡± Zuri muttered, gripping her rings tightly as she swung again, her strength waning.


    A gang member raised his weapon high, ready to strike her down. Zuri staggered back, her rings slipping from her hands as she fell to her knees. Blood dripped from her wounds, staining the dirt beneath her. She braced herself for the final blow, but it never came.


    A sharp crack echoed around her as a stone struck the attacker¡¯s head, sending him reeling.


    ¡°Enough!¡±


    Clergyman Winfreth stood tall, lifting his bloodied staff in one hand while signaling with the other that he had thrown the stone. His voice boomed across the battlefield. These children? They don¡¯t know us. They owe us nothing. yet they bleed, they struggle, they endure for our sake, fighting for our lives, risking everything for people they¡¯ve never met!¡± His voice cracked, but he pressed on, his words resonating with desperation and conviction.  ¡°And what are we doing? We cower. We wait. For what?¡±


    The villagers shifted uneasily, guilt and shame washing over them.


    His gaze swept across the ground, his voice rising with fervor. ¡°Are we waiting for gods? For miracles? Hoping someone else will save us? We cannot stand idle while our saviours fall before us! Gods help those who help themselves! So let us rise¡ªrise with whatever we have, with whatever strength we can muster! Let us drive these vile cowards from our village! Pick up your courage¡ªpick up anything you can! Fight for your families, for your freedom!¡±


    The villagers hesitated for only a moment before his words lit a fire in their hearts. Shouts of determination erupted from the crowd as men and women grabbed rocks, sticks, farming tools¡ªanything they could wield¡ªand charged forward.


    A villager shouted, ¡°Grab whatever you can! We fight for our people!¡±


    ¡°Drive them out!¡± a woman cried, hurling a dagger at a retreating gang member.


    ¡°You won¡¯t take our village!¡± a man bellowed, swinging a shovel with trembling hands.


    ¡°You¡¯ll pay for what you¡¯ve done!¡± another shouted, his pitchfork raised high.


    The gang faltered under the onslaught, some retreating in panic as rocks and weapons rained down on them. Those who tried to stand their ground were overwhelmed by sheer numbers, villagers swarming them with sticks and stones.


    Zuri collapsed to the ground, her vision fading. She lifted her head slightly, seeing the villagers rushing forward, their fear replaced by fiery resolve. A faint smile crossed her lips as she whispered, ¡°About time,¡± before succumbing to unconsciousness.


    Fuma, witnessing the villagers¡¯ determination, felt a surge of strength course through his weary body. His dragons glowed brighter; their movements more precise as they relentlessly freed the remaining captives.


    ¡°We¡¯re almost there! We¡¯re going to save them all,¡± Fuma grunted, his voice strained but fueled by hope.


    The villagers fought with newfound courage, their voices rising in unison as they pushed back the gang members. Groups of men and women climbed the stakes, their trembling hands untying ropes with urgency. ¡°I¡¯ve got her!¡± a woman cried, cradling a child as she carefully descended. Another team worked together to lower an elderly man, their hands steady despite the chaos around them.


    ¡°Move, move! Get them to safety!¡± one villager shouted as they carried the freed captives to the backlines where others waited to tend to them. Bloodied and battered, the villagers moved as one, no longer bound by fear but united by purpose.


    The last captives were freed as the golden dragons dissolved into shimmering particles. Fuma crumpled to his knees, gasping for air, his vision darkening. The strain had drained every ounce of his strength. The ground felt cold against his knees, and he collapsed forward, his face pale.


    The battlefield fell eerily silent, broken only by the cries of gratitude from the freed captives and the relieved sobs of the villagers. They began gathering around Fuma, their faces etched with awe and concern. A woman knelt beside him, her hands trembling as she touched his shoulder. ¡°You saved us. Thank you,¡± she whispered, her voice choked with emotion.


    But the relief was short-lived.


    A scream pierced the air, sharp and gut-wrenching, silencing the crowd. Fuma¡¯s eyes shot open, his vision blurring as he forced himself to lift his head. The villagers froze, their newfound hope extinguished in an instant.


    All eyes turned toward the center of the battlefield, where the nightmarish sight unfolded. Fallow stood, his blade dripping with blood as it protruded from Nobu¡¯s abdomen. Nobu¡¯s face twisted in agony, blood pooling at his feet.


    ¡°No¡­¡± someone whispered, the word barely audible over the suffocating silence.


    Few feet away from Fallow, Boko held Ivo aloft by his skull, his body hanging limp. Blood streamed from Ivo¡¯s battered and broken frame, staining the ground beneath him. Boko¡¯s monstrous grin widened as he tightened his grip, lifting Ivo higher.


    Time seemed to halt. The villagers stood paralyzed, their breaths caught in their throats. The flicker of hope they had clung to moments ago was snuffed out, replaced by an oppressive weight of despair.


    Fuma¡¯s heart pounded as he pushed himself onto his elbows, his body trembling. His mind raced, his vision fixed on the horrifying scene before him.


    This can¡¯t be happening¡­


    The battlefield, once alive with the sounds of struggle and salvation, now felt like a graveyard. Each second dragged like an eternity as Fallow¡¯s blade twisted cruelly, and Boko¡¯s laughter echoed, chilling and victorious.

 Chapter 19: Brawl at the Graveyard of the Living Part 8

    As Nobu lunged forward, his twin swords aimed for Fallow''s arms, Fallow¡¯s eyes snapped open. A smirk tugged at his lips, the kind that sent a shiver down Nobu¡¯s spine. Something wasn¡¯t right. The confidence in that grin, the calm steadiness in Fallow¡¯s stance¡ªit all screamed danger.


    At the last possible moment, Fallow''s posture shifted slightly, his blade shot forward like a viper, thrusting toward Nobu''s chest with surgical precision. Nobu barely reacted in time, his form glitching out of reality. The blade pierced nothing but air as Nobu reappeared behind Fallow, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts. Yet before he could capitalize on his position, Fallow unfazed, twisted his grip. With a fluid motion, he swung the blade backward, its arc threatening to cleave Nobu in two. Nobu ducked just in time, the blade slicing the air above his head.


    The clash continued in a relentless dance of precision and agility. Fallow¡¯s strikes came faster with every swing, his movements a blur of deadly efficiency. Nobu¡¯s glitches barely kept him alive, each flicker of his form narrowly avoiding the blade that sought to end him. Sweat dripped down his fur, his breathing heavy as he struggled to keep up with the human warrior¡¯s unyielding assault.


    Fallow¡¯s voice cut through the chaos, calm and condescending. ¡°Tired already, mutt? I thought you were supposed to be faster.¡±


    Nobu grits his teeth, ignoring the taunt. He focused on the rhythm of Fallow¡¯s attacks, searching for a pattern, an opening, anything to turn the tide. But Fallow gave him no quarter. Each strike was calculated, a step ahead of Nobu¡¯s reactions. The relentless pressure was more than physical¡ªit was psychological, a game of endurance and wits.


    ¡°You¡¯re slowing down,¡± Fallow sneered as his blade blurred toward Nobu once again. ¡°That fancy trick of yours¡ªwhat do you call it? Glitching? It¡¯s just delaying the inevitable.¡±


    Nobu¡¯s eyes narrowed. He knew Fallow was baiting him, but the truth in those words stung. His energy was waning, and Fallow¡¯s unrelenting attacks kept him from regaining his footing.


    ¡°You¡¯re not bad,¡± Fallow admitted as he lunged, his blade aimed for Nobu''s heart. Nobu¡¯s instincts kicked in, and he glitched once again, reappearing behind his opponent, his twin swords poised to strike Fallow''s unguarded back.


    ¡°...But you¡¯re predictable.¡±


    Nobu¡¯s eyes widened as Fallow didn¡¯t turn. Instead, with an almost casual motion, his left hand darted to his belt, drawing a short sword in a reverse grip.


    Time slowed.


    In one swift motion, he thrust it backward, the sword moving with terrifying speed. Nobu¡¯s instincts screamed at him to glitch, and he did, but not quickly enough.


    Pain exploded in his abdomen as the shorter blade found its mark. Nobu¡¯s glitch had carried him away, but the sword glitched with him, embedding itself deep into his flesh and muscles. He let out a guttural scream, his knees buckling as he clutched at the wound. Blood seeped through his fingers, staining the ground beneath him.


    Fallow turned slowly, his expression a mask of smug satisfaction. He flicked the blade, spraying blood onto the already bloodied ground, and inspected it with disdain. ¡°Tch. Filthy mutt blood stained my rare-grade sword. ¡°How utterly repugnant,¡± he spat, glancing over his shoulder at Nobu, who collapsed to his knees, clutching his wound.


    Nobu gasped for air, his vision swimming as the pain threatened to consume him.


    Fallow loomed over him, his voice dripping with mockery. ¡°You thought you were clever, didn¡¯t you? All those glitching here, glitching there, dancing around me like a pesky fly. But let me ask you¡ªhow does it feel to realize you were dancing to my tune all along?¡±


    Nobu¡¯s ears twitched at the words, his mind racing even as pain clouded his thoughts. ¡°What... do you mean?¡± he rasped.


    Fallow chuckled, the sound cold and devoid of humour. ¡°Oh, it¡¯s simple. I never needed to turn to defend my back. Every swing, every strike, every time I left an opening¡ªit was all a game to me,¡± he said, ¡°I let you think I couldn¡¯t defend my back, swinging my sword whenever you appeared behind me. Made you believe I was a one-trick swordsman, relying only on reach and brute force. But all the while, I was setting the trap. Waiting for you to get comfortable.¡±


    Realization dawned on Nobu, his eyes widening in shock. Fallow had been manipulating him from the start, forcing him into patterns, exploiting his instincts. The relentless attacks, the calculated movements¡ªit had all been a trap, and Nobu had walked straight into it.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    Fallow continued, savoring the moment. ¡°You got cocky. Thought you¡¯d turn the tables, strike me down from behind. And that¡¯s when I struck. No hesitation, no need to turn. Just a simple thrust with my off-hand sword.¡±


    Fallow knelt slightly, leveling his gaze with Nobu¡¯s. ¡°How does it feel, realizing you¡¯ve been outplayed? That your precious tricks were nothing more than a fleeting amusement to me?¡±


    Nobu¡¯s grip on his wound tightened, his claws digging into his own flesh as he fought against the encroaching darkness. His voice was a low whisper, filled with defiance. ¡°This... isn¡¯t over.¡±


    Fallow laughed, rising to his full height. ¡°Oh, it¡¯s over, mutt. You just haven¡¯t accepted it yet.¡± He raised his blade flaring in the sunlight.


    <hr>


    At the same time, Ivo took a step forward, his body trembling under its own weight. His voice, though hoarse and broken, pierced defiantly through the battlefield.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to take you down, one way or another. Scarhead!¡±


    The words were bold, but his stance betrayed him. Each movement was a battle in itself, his legs threatening to give way with every step.


    Boko smirked, his hulking form casting a shadow over Ivo. ¡°How many times have you said that already? Is that the best you¡¯ve got? Pathetic.¡±


    Ivo ignored the taunt, raising a hand to his forehead in his signature dramatic pose, leaning back with exaggerated flair. ¡°These aren¡¯t just empty words. Pretty soon, you¡¯ll be tasting dirt.¡±


    Boko tilted his head, his grin widening. ¡°You think a few flashy moves are going to save you? Look at you, wobbling like a drunk. I¡¯ve crushed warriors twice your size, and they didn¡¯t whimper nearly as much.¡±


    ¡°Talk all you want,¡± Ivo shot back, his voice a mixture of defiance and exhaustion. ¡°The bigger they are, the harder they fall. And you, are overdue for a crash.¡±


    Boko let out a bark of laughter. ¡°Oh, I¡¯m going to enjoy this.¡±


    The fight began in an instant.


    Ivo launched forward, touching a scattering of rocks with his fingertips. The air vibrated with the hum of his telekinetic pneuma as the stones shot toward Boko like tiny missiles.


    Boko didn¡¯t flinch. His arms, thick as steel girders, moved lazily to deflect the projectiles. One struck his cheek, bouncing off harmlessly. Another grazed his jaw, earning nothing more than a raised eyebrow.


    ¡°Is this it?¡± Boko asked, spreading his arms mockingly. ¡°Still throwing pebbles at a mountain.¡±


    Ivo gritted his teeth, sweat dripping down his temple. His mind screamed at him to stop, to rest, but he couldn¡¯t. He wouldn¡¯t. His hands darted toward more rocks, hurling them with everything he could muster.


    The rocks battered Boko¡¯s chest, arms, and legs, but the giant of a man kept walking forward, his steps slow and deliberate.


    ¡°Still trying?¡± Boko said, a note of amusement in his tone.


    The rocks barely caused an itch. One struck Boko¡¯s ribs with a faint clink like a child tapping a spoon against a pot. His grin stretched wider as he reached Ivo, who stood panting, his vision blurring.


    ¡°You¡¯re done,¡± Boko growled.


    Ivo staggered back, his legs giving out beneath him. He gasped, feeling the weight of the moment press against him like an iron vice. His Pneuma was gone, and his energy drained to the last drop. The world around him faded his vision narrowing to the monstrous figure now towering over him.


    Boko¡¯s fists clenched, his knuckles cracking audibly. ¡°You wasted my time,¡± he said, voice cold and heavy. ¡°Now you¡¯ll pay for it.¡±


    The first punch landed with the force of a battering ram, driving Ivo to the ground. Pain flared through his ribs as Boko¡¯s iron-like fists pummeled him mercilessly. Each strike was merciless, relentless.


    Ivo tried to shield himself, raising an arm, but Boko grabbed it, twisting it with a sickening crack. The scream that tore from Ivo¡¯s throat was drowned by Boko¡¯s laughter.


    ¡°You wanted time, huh?¡± Boko snarled, lifting Ivo by the collar. ¡°Time for what? To bleed out slower?¡±


    Ivo coughed, blood spilling from his lips. ¡°T-to save them¡­¡± he rasped, his voice barely audible.


    Boko¡¯s grin twisted into something crueler. ¡°Save who? The villagers? The weak? You can¡¯t even save yourself.¡±


    Another punch, harder than the last, knocked Ivo¡¯s head back. Blood sprayed from his mouth, splattering the ground in dark crimson. Boko didn¡¯t stop. His fists came down again and again, each blow fueled by unrestrained savagery.


    Ivo¡¯s body fell limp, his consciousness slipping. But Boko wasn¡¯t finished. Grabbing him by the skull, Boko lifted Ivo high into the air like a trophy. Blood streamed from Ivo¡¯s battered body, pooling beneath them.


    ¡°Look at him now!¡± Boko roared, his voice echoing across the battlefield. ¡°This is what happens to anyone stupid enough to stand against me!¡±


    The villagers, watching from a distance, shuddered in silent horror. The glimmer of hope they had clung to moments ago was crushed under Boko¡¯s monstrous grin as he tightened his grip, lifting Ivo even higher.

 Chapter 20: Brawl at the Graveyard of the Living Part 9

    Amid the carnage, Cherrie¡¯s wide, tear-filled eyes locked onto Nobu, who was crawling on the ground, his breaths shallow and ragged. Blood seeped from the wound in his abdomen, leaving a dark trail on the scorched earth.


    ¡°Nobu!¡± Cherrie cried out, breaking into a desperate sprint toward him.


    Nobu, hearing her voice, forced his trembling arms to push him up slightly. ¡°Cherrie, no! Stay back!¡± His voice cracked with pain and exhaustion. ¡°Don¡¯t¡­ come closer¡­¡±


    But she didn¡¯t stop. Her feet pounded against the dirt as she shouted his name again, her voice trembling with fear and determination.


    Fallow¡¯s smirk froze as he caught the sound of her cry. Turning his head toward the girl, he chuckled darkly. ¡°Another lamb to the slaughter?¡± He adjusted his grip on the blood-stained blade, raising it high. ¡°But I¡¯m not done with you yet, mutt.¡±


    Just as his sword arched downward, a thunderous roar shattered the tense air behind him.


    A Pneuma dragon surged toward the battlefield, its jaws stretched wide, an embodiment of focused wrath and purpose. Fallow spun on his heels, his eyes widened as he caught sight of the dragon¡¯s gaping maw barreling toward him. Without hesitation, he leaped back, narrowly avoiding the oncoming force.


    But the dragon hadn¡¯t come for him. It dived toward Nobu with precision, swallowing him in one swift, fluid motion. Its ethereal form wrapped protectively around the wounded warrior before arcing upward and retreating, its path leading straight toward its summoner.


    ¡°No!¡± Cherrie cried, her voice cracking with anguish. She skidded to a halt, tears streaming from her eyes and dripping from her rosy cheeks. Her breath hitching as panic gripped her chest, her knees threatening to buckle as she watched the dragon retreat with Nobu.


    The Pneuma dragon slowed as it reached Fuma, who lay weak and motionless on the ground, his energy already drained to the brink. The creature gently deposited Nobu beside him before its glowing form shimmered one last time. Turning its head toward Fuma in a silent farewell, the dragon dissolved into a fine dust, scattering into the wind.


    Fuma¡¯s body, having given its all, finally surrendered. His breathing slowed, and with one last shudder, he slipped into unconsciousness.


    Before Cherrie could catch her breath and run toward Nobu, a rough hand grabbed her arm, yanking her back with brutal force. She cried out, struggling against the iron grip, kicking and clawing. ¡°Let me go!¡± she screamed, her small fists pounding uselessly against the gang member¡¯s chest. But she was just a child, no match for the man¡¯s strength.


    The gang member hoisted her effortlessly, dragging her toward the remaining gang. ¡°Got the lil'' one!¡± he called out, a wicked grin spreading across his face.


    Ivo, barely conscious and dangling limply in Boko¡¯s strong grasp, managed to rasp out, ¡°Let¡­ her¡­ go¡­¡±


    Boko glanced at Ivo, smirking as he tightened his grip on Ivo¡¯s head. ¡°You¡¯re in no position to make demands, runt. Shouldn¡¯t you be worried about yourself?¡± he mocked.


    Ivo¡¯s trembling voice rose again, filled with fury despite his broken state. ¡°You¡­ damn cowards¡­ leave her alone!¡± His body twitched weakly as he tried to wriggle free, but he was powerless, his strength completely spent.


    A gang member shouted from nearby, ¡°Boss, we¡¯ve got one of the brats!¡±


    Boko turned, his smirk widening with malice as he surveyed the beaten villagers and unconscious guild members. ¡°These kids thought they could take us down?¡± he sneered. ¡°Let¡¯s remind these villagers who really own them!¡±


    Weapons were raised, the gang preparing to descend upon the helpless villagers once again. The air grew heavy with dread as the tide of battle turned completely against the villagers and their protectors.


    ¡°Look at your guildmates, boy!¡± Boko bellowed, lifting Ivo¡¯s limp body higher. His grin widened, as he turned Ivo to display him the unconscious and bloodied guild members. ¡°They¡¯re nothing but worms lying in the dirt! And these villagers? They¡¯re as good as dead now, I am going to crush them under my boots.¡±Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    Ivo¡¯s head lolled forward, blood dripping from his mouth and staining his torn clothes. Boko¡¯s words were like a distant echo in his battered mind. Yet, through the haze of pain, one thought burned bright: Cherrie.


    ¡°You¡­¡± Ivo rasped, his voice barely above a whisper. His fingers twitched the faintest motion of life in his battered body. ¡°You¡­ should¡¯ve let Cherrie go¡­ when I said¡­¡±


    Boko¡¯s mocking laughter rang out, loud and cruel, but it was cut short by a sickening crack.


    With every ounce of strength left in him, Ivo swung his fist upward, connecting with Boko¡¯s eye in a brutal blow. The impact was visceral, a sharp crunch that silenced the battlefield.


    Boko roared in agony, stumbling back as blood poured from his ruined eye, staining his face and hands. The pain made him falter, his grip loosening as Ivo slipped from his hands and crumpled to the ground like a discarded doll.


    The battlefield froze.


    For a moment, there was only the sound of Boko¡¯s ragged, furious breathing. Then, from the crowd of villagers, a voice broke the silence. ¡°We won¡¯t let them take the kids! Not after all they¡¯ve done for us!¡±


    It was as if a spark had ignited a powder keg. The villagers, bruised and exhausted but fueled by resistance, surged forward as one. Their cries of determination shook the air, and they charged with whatever strength they could muster, ready to fight for the young heroes who had risked everything for them.


    Boko clutched his ruined eye, blood streaming through his fingers as his face twisted in agony and fury. ¡°That bastard! I¡¯ll kill him! I¡¯ll grind him into dust!¡± His voice was raw, filled with rage and pain, as he raised his boot high above Ivo¡¯s limp body.


    But before he could bring it down, a sharp voice cut through the turmoil like a blade. ¡°Boko, stop!¡± Fallow emerged from the fray, his gaze cold and commanding. He grasped Boko¡¯s arm firmly, forcing the larger man to pause. ¡°Look around! The villagers are turning against us, and our men are spent. Staying here will not work in our favor.¡±


    Boko snarled, yanking his arm free. ¡°I don¡¯t care! They¡¯re nothing but insects! I¡¯ll crush them all myself!¡± His fury boiled over as he glanced toward his gang. ¡°Useless idiots couldn¡¯t handle a few brats. They¡¯re better off dead than disgracing me like this!¡±


    Fallow stepped between him and Ivo, his voice dropping to a firm, deliberate tone. ¡°And you think you can take on all these villagers by yourself? Look at yourself, Boko. You¡¯re bleeding out, and if you keep this up, they¡¯ll overrun us.¡±


    Boko¡¯s nostrils flared as his remaining eye darted across the battlefield. Villagers, battered and bruised, had rallied with a desperate ferocity, dragging gang members to the ground wherever they could catch them. For a moment, his chest heaved with rage, but a flicker of realization tempered his madness.


    ¡°They¡¯re fools!¡± he spat. ¡°I¡¯ll kill them all, these villagers and these worthless gang members too!¡± His voice cracked with frustration, but there was hesitation in his movements.


    ¡°We¡¯ll come back,¡± Fallow pressed, his tone unyielding. ¡°We¡¯ll get our revenge properly, but not like this. For now, retreat. I¡¯ve got the boy.¡± He bent down, hefting Ivo¡¯s mangled body onto his shoulder. ¡°You can punish him later, beat him senseless if you want, but only if you survive today.¡±


    Boko clenched his fists, as he glanced at Fallow, then back at the villagers who surged forward like a tidal wave. Finally, with a growl of frustration, he turned on his heel. ¡°Tch. Fine,¡± he muttered. ¡°But this isn¡¯t over.¡±


    He broke into a sprint, covering his bloodied eye as he retreated. The remaining gang members, disoriented and outnumbered, scrambled to follow him, dragging Cherrie with them as she kicked and screamed, her cries fading into the distance.


    The villagers, emboldened by their brief success, gave chase, capturing whoever they could. A few gang members fell into their grasp, beaten and bound, but it wasn¡¯t enough. Ivo and Cherrie were gone, taken by the retreating gang.


    ¡°Stop!¡± A resonant voice rang out, halting the villagers in their tracks. Winfreth, stood tall, his expression stern but compassionate. ¡°Revenge will not heal the wounded or save the dying. Come back and help those who need us now! Every second wasted chasing them is a life we might lose here.¡±


    The villagers hesitated, their anger giving way to guilt and exhaustion. Slowly, they turned back, their resolve shifting to the injured and fallen. Men and women knelt beside their wounded neighbors, their hands trembling as they worked to save whoever they could.


    The battlefield grew quiet save for the groans of the injured and the whispers of despair. Blood soaked the ground, and the once-proud guild lay in shambles. Ivo and Cherrie were captured. Nobu and Zuri were gravely injured, their breaths shallow as they clung to life. Fuma lay unconscious, his body drained beyond its limits.


    Though the villagers were saved from the immediate threat, the battle had ended not in victory but in tragedy. The guild had achieved only half its mission¡ªBoko Salerno and his Scarhead gang had escaped, leaving destruction in their wake.


    Yet, amidst the sorrow, a glimmer of determination remained. The guild¡¯s resolve was far from broken. They had saved the people; now, only one task remained: to bring Boko and his gang to justice, no matter the cost.

 Chapter 21: Searching for Whats Stolen Part 1

    ¡°Big bro, big bro¡­ will we¡­ will we stay alive? Are we all going¡ª¡±


    A small trembling voice, fragile as glass, broke the suffocating silence. Tiny fingers clung to the frayed edges of a worn-out sleeve, knuckles pale from the desperate grip. Rio''s wide, tear-brimmed eyes searched frantically for reassurance, for something¡ªanything to hold onto, his chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths.


    A warm hand ruffled his messy hair, gentle yet firm, a touch that tried to soothe even when the world around them was crumbling.


    ¡°Shh,¡± came a calm but weary voice, laced with exhaustion yet carrying a quiet strength. ¡°Yes, Rio. We¡¯re going to survive this. Trust your big bro.¡±


    Rio sniffled, wiping at his damp cheeks with the back of his sleeve. His lips trembled as he tried to believe in those words, to let them wrap around him like a shield against the creeping dread inside his chest.


    ¡°But¡­ but Mom, Dad, and¡­¡± His voice cracked as the name of his little sister¡ªso soft, so familiar¡ªdied in his throat. He couldn¡¯t bring himself to say it. It hurt too much.


    His brother¡¯s hand faltered briefly, fingers tightening against the fabric of Rio¡¯s shirt. Then, without a word, he pulled Rio into a tight embrace. No explanations, no false promises¡ªjust warmth. The steady beat of his brother¡¯s heart against his ear made Rio feel safe for a fleeting moment, even as the world outside crumbled into ruin.


    Then, the world shattered.


    The heat came first¡ªblistering, suffocating, wrapping around Rio¡¯s small body like an unseen beast with fiery claws. Smoke thickened the air, choking his lungs with the acrid stench of burnt flesh. Fire crackled hungrily, devouring buildings as if they were made of paper. The sky, once vast and blue, was now smothered in black smoke, swallowing the stars and turning night into an endless void.


    Screams tore through the chaos¡ªdesperate, fleeting. People ran, their silhouettes flickering against the raging inferno. Some stumbled, vanishing beneath the crushing weight of collapsing debris, while others were swallowed whole by the relentless flames. The ground trembled, walls groaning as they buckled and fell, sending embers spiraling like dying fireflies into the air.


    Rio staggered, his young body barely able to withstand the madness around him. The world was ablaze, a nightmarish hellscape of fire and despair. The heat pressed in from all sides, merciless and unrelenting.


    His brother grabbed his hand. "Run."


    The word barely had time to register before Rio was yanked forward, his feet stumbling to keep up. The world blurred¡ªa frantic mess of blazing ruins and fleeing figures. The smoke stung his eyes, making it harder to see, harder to breathe. His lungs burned with every inhale, but he ran.


    Then¡ª


    The world tilted.


    A blast shook the ground beneath them. The impact sent Rio lurching sideways, his fingers slipping free from his brother¡¯s grasp.


    The warmth¡ªhis only anchor¡ªwas gone.


    Rio staggered, his small hands reaching out, grasping at nothing but empty air. Panic clawed at his chest as his eyes darted around wildly, searching.


    "Big bro?!" His voice cracked, raw with fear.


    Bodies rushed past him in the chaos¡ªpanicked figures, their faces contorted in terror. The air was thick with cries, but none of them belonged to his brother.


    Tears welled up in Rio¡¯s eyes, spilling down his cheeks as he spun frantically. "Where are you?! Please¡ªdon¡¯t leave me alone!"


    The thick smoke curled around him, suffocating, blinding. For a horrifying moment, he felt as if he was disappearing, fading into the fire¡¯s endless hunger.


    Then¡ª


    A shift in the haze.


    Through the shimmering waves of heat, Rio saw him. His brother¡¯s limp body dragged across the rubble-strewn ground, his head lolling to one side, a crimson trail following in his wake. Blood dripped from a deep gash on his temple, staining the earth beneath him.


    A man held him by the arm, his grip unrelenting. The flickering firelight distorted his features, turning his face into something twisted, something monstrous. His presence was a smudge of darkness against the inferno, his form shifting like a ghost within the flames.


    Rio¡¯s breath caught in his throat. His legs moved before his mind could catch up.


    "Let him go!" He ran, stumbling over debris, his small hands reaching out, fingers stretching desperately toward his brother. "Please! He¡¯s hurt! Stop!"


    The man didn¡¯t stop. He kept walking, dragging his brother further into the chaos.


    Rio¡¯s chest clenched. His feet burned with every step, but he pushed forward¡ªuntil something seized him from behind.


    Cold.


    Unnatural, bone-deep cold.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    Hands, icy as death itself, wrapped around his arms, wrenching him backward. The contrast against the fire¡¯s blistering heat sent a violent shiver through him. He struggled, thrashing, but the grip tightened, unyielding.


    "Let me go!" he choked out, his voice breaking. "He needs me! I have to¡ª!"


    The hands moved¡ªone clamped over his mouth, silencing his cries, while the other slid around his throat.


    A crushing force.


    Rio¡¯s body convulsed as the icy grip squeezed. His lungs screamed for air, his limbs spasmed. The fire still raged around him, its embers licking at his skin, yet his throat felt like it was trapped in an eternal winter.


    His vision blurred. His muscles grew weak. But even as the darkness crept in, his trembling small fingers reached out toward his brother.


    His arm stretched desperately forward, trying to grasp the only thing that mattered¡ª


    His Big Bro.


    But his brother''s bloodied form was slipping away into the flames.


    Fading.


    Gone.


    <hr>


    Rio jolted awake with a violent gasp, his body lurching forward as if breaking free from unseen chains. His chest heaved erratically, lungs dragging in air like a drowning man breaching the surface. He could still feel it¡ªthe icy grip around his throat, squeezing, suffocating. The ice-cold touch. The helplessness.


    As his ragged breaths slowed, the room around him came into focus. Sunlight streamed through the slight gap in the open window, dust motes drifting lazily in the warm glow. The air was still, almost peaceful. Yet the suffocating pressure on his throat remained.


    Something was pressing down on him.


    His body tensed. His hands shot up, fingers trembling as they clutched at his neck, expecting to find those deathly cold hands still wrapped around him. But instead¡­


    His palm met something warm.


    Something solid.


    He turned his head stiffly, eyes narrowing as they landed on the culprit.


    Asper¡¯s leg¡ªdraped across his neck like some cursed, misplaced scarf. He was sprawled out, snoring softly, a goofy smile twitching at his lips. Then, in his sleep-filled daze, he muttered, ¡°More sauce¡­ yeah¡­ extra cheese¡­ perfect,¡± his voice trailing into a satisfied hum.


    Rio¡¯s eye twitched. His exhausted brain scrambled between relief, residual terror, and a rapidly growing urge to throw Asper out the window.


    Then, with all the strength his sleep-ridden body could muster, he shoved Asper¡¯s leg off him, sending the dreamer rolling onto his side with a startled grunt. ¡°You absolute, pea-brain menace,¡± Rio rasped, rubbing his sore throat. ¡°Even in your sleep, you¡¯re trying to kill me.¡±


    Asper groaned, shifting slightly but not waking, his hand lazily swatting at the air as if shooing away a bothersome fly. ¡°Let me eat... in peace¡­¡± he mumbled.


    Rio stared at him, deadpan. His throat still burned from the lingering chill of his nightmare, his skin slick with sweat, and here Asper was, dreaming about food and suffocating people in his sleep.


    ¡°I swear,¡± Rio muttered, pinching Asper''s leg, ¡°one day, this idiot is actually going to get me killed.¡±


    Asper stirred slightly, but instead of waking up, he shifted, his limbs stretching out¡ªthen promptly kicked Rio in the head.


    A dull thud.


    ¡°Ow! You brain-dead..¡± Rio seethed, his voice breaking into a sharp hiss as he grabbed his forehead. He shot Asper a murderous glare, shoving his leg away with an irritated growl. ¡°Maybe I should blast you off to another planet?!¡±


    His frustration reaching its peak, Rio crawled forward on all fours, his eyes burning with vengeance as he neared Asper¡¯s face. Asper''s lips were parted slightly, his breath slow and even. But just as Rio was about to grab him¡ª


    Asper mumbled.


    ¡°How¡­ the kick¡­ pony¡­ tail¡­¡±


    Rio froze. His irritation flickered. His mind, for a split second, tried to make sense of the nonsense spilling from Asper¡¯s mouth. But before his mind could try to understand anything, something in him snapped.


    Smack!


    A sharp slap rang through the room.


    ¡°OW! What the¡ª¡± Asper jolted upright with a yelp, clutching his cheek. His eyes darted around wildly before locking onto Rio, who was still glaring at him, hand raised and ready for another strike.


    ¡°Why¡¯d you hit me?!¡± Asper demanded, utterly bewildered.


    Rio took a deep breath, his fingers twitching. ¡°Because you deserve it,¡± he said, voice hoarse from both his dream and his very real near-death experience.


    Asper blinked, rubbing his cheek. ¡°You could¡¯ve just woken me up, you psycho¡ª¡±


    ¡°Shut up before I make sure you never wake up again.¡±


    Zenji stirred with a low groan, his fingers instinctively reaching up to his head. The moment they brushed against the side of his skull¡ªjust above his ear¡ªhe winced as a sharp sting jolted through him.


    ¡°What¡­ what¡¯s going on?,¡± he muttered, eyes cracking open to the sight of Rio and Asper glaring at each other. Their argument echoed through the confined space, their bickering as sharp as the pounding in his skull.


    ¡°This buffoon nearly strangled me in his sleep,¡± Rio snapped, sitting back on his heels.


    Asper blinked, his expression morphing from confusion to indignation. ¡°That¡¯s not fair! I was dreaming about food. How could I be strangling you?¡±


    Rio raised an eyebrow, his voice dripping with sarcasm. ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sorry. I didn¡¯t realize your culinary adventures involved suffocating your friends.¡±


    With an exhausted sigh, Zenji forced himself upright, his movements sluggish. ¡°Do you two ever shut up? My head feels like it¡¯s been split open.¡± He glanced around the room, taking in the chaotic state they were in.


    ¡°You do realize,¡± he continued, pressing his palm to his temple, ¡°that your endless chit-chat might just alert someone outside?¡± He inhaled slowly, willing the throbbing pain to settle. ¡°We need to figure out how bad we¡¯re stuck and, more importantly, how we¡¯re getting out of here.¡±


    Rio nodded, his expression hardening as he pushed himself to his feet. ¡°Agreed. But first, someone needs to keep an eye on this food-obsessed lunatic,¡± he said, pointing a finger at Asper.


    Asper pouted, crossing his arms. ¡°Hey, that¡¯s uncalled for.¡±


    ¡°So was almost choking me to death,¡± Rio shot back, rolling his eyes.


    Zenji let out another weary sigh, already regretting waking up. ¡°This is going to be a long day.¡±

 Chapter 22: Searching for Whats Stolen 2

    Rio shifted against the cold stone wall, pressing his forehead to the cool glass of the small window. The morning sun bathed the estate in a golden glow, its light spilling over the horizon like liquid fire. The sky was painted in soft hues of pink and orange, and the courtyard spread out before him¡ªlush greenery, neat rows of swaying crops, and the stone boundary walls enclosing the mansion. But something felt¡­ off.


    He leaned in further, squinting. No patrols. No movement. No rhythmic march or murmur of guards. The usual signs of morning activity¡ªthe clatter of hooves, the echo of orders being barked¡ªwere absent. The place was silent, unnervingly so.


    Rio frowned, craning his neck to get a better view. ¡°That¡¯s weird¡­¡± he muttered. ¡°There¡¯s no one outside.¡±


    Asper, who had been sprawled against the wall fiddling with a loose thread on his sleeve, perked up. ¡°Really?¡± He shot to his feet, shoving Rio aside with enough force to make him stumble.


    ¡°Hey¡ªwhat the goodygoon, Asper?!¡± Rio grumbled, catching himself against the wall.


    ¡°Shh!¡± Asper hushed him absentmindedly, pressing his face to the glass. His eyes darted around the empty courtyard, his expression cycling between curiosity and forced seriousness. ¡°Maybe¡­ maybe they¡¯re all sleeping?¡± He peered left, then right, as if expecting a guard to pop up from under a bush. ¡°I mean, I would too. Who¡¯d want to work for that grumpy old duke?¡±


    Rio let out a chuckle, crossing his arms. ¡°Please, Asper. Stop trying to sound smart.¡±


    Asper turned his head slightly. ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡±


    Rio grinned, holding back another laugh. ¡°You think an entire mansion¡¯s worth of guards just decided to hit snooze at the same time?¡± He shook his head, biting his lip to contain his laughter. ¡°It¡¯s a duke¡¯s estate. Security doesn¡¯t just sleep in.¡±


    Asper blinked, his face scrunching up in confusion. ¡°What? Everybody needs sleep.¡±


    That did it. Rio clapped both hands over his mouth to muffle his laughter, his shoulders shaking.


    Zenji, who had been kneeling by the doorframe, exhaled through his nose, his patience wearing thin. Without a word, he slowly pushed the door open an inch, peering out into the corridor. His sharp eyes scanned the hallway, illuminated just enough to reveal every detail while casting soft shadows along the walls.


    ¡°Maybe it¡¯s a trap¡­¡± he murmured, his voice steady, but low. He nudged the door open a little more, the faint creak breaking the stillness. He waited. No response. No hurried footsteps. No shifting of weapons. Just silence.


    Or¡­


    His fingers tightened on the doorframe.


    ¡°Or maybe,¡± he said after a beat, ¡°our luck hasn¡¯t run out yet.¡±


    He glanced back at the two still snickering idiots and made a quick shushing motion. Then, with a nod, he gestured for them to follow.


    ¡°Let¡¯s move.¡±


    The trio moved cautiously through the hallway, their footsteps light against the polished floor. But while Zenji maintained a composed, calculated pace, Rio and Asper looked like amateur spies from a cartoon¡ªexaggerated tiptoes, backs pressed dramatically against the walls, and whispered exchanges that were anything but subtle.


    Asper even raised his hands in front of him like he was sneaking through a villain¡¯s lair, glancing from side to side with an exaggeratedly serious expression¡ªmuch to Zenji¡¯s growing irritation.


    ¡°Would you stop that?¡± Zenji muttered, his eyes scanning the corridor ahead. ¡°You¡¯re making it even more obvious that we¡¯re up to something.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m blending in with the silence,¡± Asper whispered dramatically.


    Zenji exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose¡ªthe universal gesture of a man questioning his life choices.


    Rio glanced behind them to ensure they weren¡¯t being followed, then gestured ahead. ¡°The Duke¡¯s room is back that way,¡± he murmured. ¡°So Boko¡¯s office should be this way.¡±


    Zenji nodded, keeping his voice low. ¡°Well, let¡¯s hope so.¡±


    Asper¡¯s eyes lit up. ¡°Oh! That¡¯s right! Nun Mira said all the stolen stuff goes to Boko. That means my bag¡¯s probably there!¡± His voice rose with excitement before Zenji flicked him on the forehead.


    ¡°Shhh. Do you want to announce our presence?¡± Zenji scowled.


    Asper winced, rubbing his forehead. ¡°Geez, alright, alright. But come on, it makes sense, doesn¡¯t it?¡±


    Rio smirked, shaking his head. ¡°You sound awfully confident for someone who got us into this mess.¡±


    Asper groaned, throwing his hands up. ¡°How many times are you gonna bring that up, Rio? I already said sorry!¡± He folded his arms, then muttered, ¡°Besides¡­ my stuff is kind of important.¡±


    Zenji gave him a flat look. ¡°You¡¯d better hope it¡¯s there.¡±


    They finally came to a stop in front of a grand wooden door, its dark frame embellished with gold trimmings and an elaborate lion-shaped handle. Asper gulped, shifting nervously on his feet.


    "Alright," Rio whispered, pressing a hand against the door. "Moment of truth."


    With a slow, steady push, the heavy door groaned open, revealing the chaos within.


    The office, once an imposing display of wealth, had been reduced to a ruinous mess. Shattered glass carpeted the floor, catching the morning light in sharp, dangerous angles. A massive window at the far end had been smashed open, jagged edges framing a view of the sprawling estate. The grand mahogany desk that once commanded the room had been overturned, one of its thick legs snapped clean off. Gold coins, gemstones, and priceless antiques lay scattered among torn documents, broken furniture, and toppled shelves.


    Zenji''s sharp eyes swept across the devastation, and he exhaled, stepping forward. "What the hell happened here?"Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    "Looks like someone had a temper tantrum," Rio muttered, nudging a broken chair leg with his foot. His gaze flicked to Asper, who stood frozen in the doorway, expression blank with shock, shoulders sagging, lips slightly parted as he took in the destruction.


    Rio smirked. "Or maybe someone just really hated the decor." He turned to Asper, grinning. "Hey, Asper, you got brain freeze or something?"


    Asper let out a dramatic, tearful sniff. "Ha. Ha. Very funny." He gestured helplessly at the wreckage. "How in the world are we supposed to find my stuff in this mess?"


    Rio chuckled, plucking a small scrap of cloth from the debris and handing it to him. "Here, blow your nose, poor boy."


    Asper snatched it with a scowl and exaggeratedly wiped his face before straightening up. "It''s definitely here. We just need to find it."


    ¡°Wait a second,¡± Rio interjected. ¡°And how are we supposed to know what we¡¯re looking for? You haven¡¯t exactly been specific.¡±


    Asper blinked. "Oh¡­ right." He scratched his temple, giving a sheepish grin. "I guess it¡¯d be hard to find something if you don¡¯t even know what it looks like."


    Zenji sighed. "I swear¡­"


    "Okay, okay!" Asper held up his hands. "It¡¯s a scroll tied with a ribbon and a small, shiny orb. The orb kinda¡­ gleams."


    Zenji raised an unimpressed brow. "Gleams?" He swept his arm toward the room, where countless treasures glistened under the morning light. "Oh, great. That narrows it down to every damn thing in here."


    "Hey, it¡¯s not that bad! Just start looking!" Asper shot back, already sifting through a pile of broken wood and fabric. He shoved aside splintered chair legs and torn upholstery, coughing as dust filled the air.


    Rio let out a low whistle. "Well, this is gonna be fun."


    Zenji sighed, rolling his shoulders before scanning the wreckage. He moved toward an overturned bookshelf, lifting a heavy wooden plank and tossing it aside with a dull thud. "We don¡¯t even know where to start."


    Rio, crouching near a heap of crumpled documents, nudged a pile of scattered papers with his foot. "Over there," he pointed, narrowing his eyes at a mess of scrolls buried beneath shattered glass, chunks of stone, and wood fragments. "If your scroll is anywhere, it¡¯s probably in that disaster."


    Asper nodded, already moving toward the pile. "Fine. Just start digging!"


    Zenji continued searching, stepping carefully through the debris, his boots crunching over broken glass. He crouched near the broken desk, brushing dust off his bandages before slipping his fingers beneath a large wooden slab. He lifted it slightly, his fingers fumbling through the narrow gap between the desk and scattered debris. His fingertips brushed against something smooth and round. He froze.


    Curling his fingers around it, he pulled it free with a small grunt. The object gleamed faintly in the light. Holding it up, he turned toward Asper. "Hey, Bancroft. This your orb?"


    Asper glanced over and immediately shook his head. "Nope. That¡¯s too small. It should be bigger¡ªabout the size of a fist."


    Zenji exhaled through his nose, then casually tossed the useless orb behind him before continuing his search.


    Rio let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. "I don¡¯t see any scroll with a ribbon, Asper. It might not even be here."


    Asper shook his head. "No way. I know it¡¯s here somewhere. Keep looking!"


    Zenji muttered something under his breath but crouched again. He wedged his fingers under another chunk of splintered wood, shifting it aside before his hand brushed against something solid. This time, when he pulled it out, he immediately knew. A larger, gleaming sphere rested in his palm, its smooth surface catching the morning light.


    "Got it," Zenji said flatly, holding it up.


    Asper spun around, his face lighting up. "Yes! That¡¯s it!" He rushed over, carefully cradling the orb in his hands like a long-lost treasure. "Nice work, Zenji!"


    Zenji waved him off. "Yeah, yeah. Don¡¯t thank me yet. Where¡¯s your scroll?"


    Asper didn¡¯t answer¡ªhe was already diving back into the pile of scattered papers and broken wood. He dug frantically, shoving aside useless sheets and dust-covered scrolls until¡ª


    "Got it!" Asper popped up, holding a dusty, slightly crumpled scroll tied with a faded red ribbon. He dusted it off, his eyes shining.


    Rio exhaled sharply. "Finally. Took you long enough."


    Asper grinned, clutching both the orb and scroll tightly.


    Rio gave him a sideways glance. "So, what are those, anyway?"


    Asper hesitated. His fingers instinctively tightened around the items. "Sorry, but¡­ I can¡¯t really tell you."


    Rio narrowed his eyes. "Seriously? We just helped you dig through all this, and you¡¯re still keeping secrets?"


    Asper scratched the back of his head, trying to find the right words. "Look, it¡¯s not that I don¡¯t trust you. It¡¯s just¡­ I don¡¯t even know everything about them myself."


    Rio clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "Man, you¡¯re just full of mysteries, aren¡¯t you?"


    Asper chuckled, slipping the orb and scroll safely into his bag. "Well, at least I finally got them back," he said, his voice quiet but filled with relief. Then his grin widened. "Now¡­ we just have to get out of here alive. Easy, right?"


    Rio groaned. "You just had to say that, didn¡¯t you?"


    Zenji crossed his arms, his expression grim. "Let¡¯s move before we find out how wrong he is."


    As they were about to turn toward the exit. Just then¡ª


    "Oh¡­ hello, kids. Going somewhere?"


    A voice.


    Calm. Too calm.


    Eerie and smooth, like silk wrapped around a dagger.


    The air turned solid. Their bodies locked up¡ªbreath caught mid-inhale, muscles frozen in place. None of them could turn to look. None of them needed to. Their instincts shrieked, a primal, unrelenting warning. The weight of the presence behind them was suffocating, pressing against their backs like an invisible force, demanding submission.


    Danger. No¡ªworse. Predator.


    Zenji¡¯s hand found the hilt of his sword before he could think. Rio¡¯s palm flared, a spark of heat flashing to life, muscles tensing to launch himself at the unseen presence. Their reactions weren¡¯t conscious decisions¡ªthey were raw survival instincts kicking in.


    Then¡ªFWIP!


    A shot.


    Something impossibly fast tore through the air, whispering past Rio¡¯s neck¡ªso close, so precise, it nearly grazed his skin. The heat in his palm flickered, his balance wavered.


    The voice hummed in amusement. "Calm."


    Every cell screamed at them to listen.


    "I wouldn¡¯t try that if I were you, kid."


    The weight of the words settled over them like a suffocating fog. This wasn¡¯t just a warning¡ªit was a promise, a fact of survival. One wrong move, one twitch in the wrong direction, and whatever force lurked behind them would tear through them without hesitation.


    They froze¡ªagain, but deeper this time. Like prey caught in the unblinking gaze of a beast. Their own bodies betrayed them, locking down every muscle, every breath.


    The air in the ruined office thickened, pressing in on their lungs, their instincts warring between the desperate need to flee and the overwhelming certainty that any movement would be their last. Even the smallest movement felt like a mistake.


    A mistake that would end them.


    No one spoke.


    No one breathed.