The moment Aldric's boots hit the ground, the battlefield erupted into chaos. Smoke and ash filled the air, the acrid scent of burning wood mixing with the coppery tang of blood. The flickering flames painted twisted shadows across the village as bandits roamed freely, tearing through homes like rabid beasts.
A woman's scream cut through the noise.
Aldric's heart pounded. His eyes snapped toward a group of bandits near a crumbling hut. Their laughter was cruel, their intent unmistakable.
Before he could think, his hand shot forward. A frigid mist curled around his fingertips as he unleashed a barrage of ice shards. The first struck true, piercing the throat of one bandit mid-laugh. He crumpled instantly. Another let out a startled cry as an icicle tore through his leg, sending him tumbling to the ground.
The others turned sharply, their eyes locking onto him.
"There's someone here!" one shouted.
Aldric's stomach tightened, but he didn't hesitate. He raised his sword, stepping forward as the bandits rushed him.
They came fast. Too fast.
The first swung his blade wildly. Aldric barely parried in time, the force of the impact rattling his arms. Another lunged from the side, forcing him to pivot. He managed to duck beneath a strike, countering with a quick slash to the man's side.
But he was outnumbered.
His boots skidded against the dirt as he struggled to keep up. The bandits fought without form or discipline, but they were relentless. A sword came dangerously close, forcing Aldric to leap back. His breath came fast, sweat mixing with the dirt and blood on his skin. He had trained for combat, but this was different. This wasn't a sparring match with controlled strikes and clear rules. This was survival.
A sharp pain flared in his shoulder as a bandit's blade grazed him, tearing through his coat. He clenched his teeth, forcing himself to focus. He couldn't let them overwhelm him.
"Villagers, run!" he shouted between labored breaths. "Get to safety!"
But the village chief's voice rang out above the battle.
"No! We fight!"
Aldric's eyes widened as the villagers surged forward, armed with whatever they could find—pitchforks, wooden clubs, even farming scythes. Their faces were lined with fear, but they charged anyway.
The bandits faltered.
For the first time, the ones who had been the hunters were now the hunted. The villagers, driven by desperation, struck with everything they had. One bandit fell beneath a farmer's heavy swing. Another stumbled as a group of villagers tackled him to the ground.
But then—
A sickening crunch.
The battlefield stilled for a moment as a previous figure stepped forward again.
Aldric turned sharply, his breath catching in his throat.
Varek Earthshatter.
The bandit leader stood at the heart of the chaos, his broad shoulders relaxed, his presence alone enough to command silence. In his grasp was the village chief, held in place by a jagged stone spear pressing against his throat.
Aldric froze.
"Drop your sword, little noble," Varek said, his voice dangerously calm. "Or the old man dies."
Aldric's fingers tightened around his hilt. His mind raced, searching for a way out, but every option led to the same outcome. If he moved too fast, the chief would die. If he hesitated, he would still die.
"Aldric—" The chief's voice was hoarse, but steady. "Don't—"
The stone spear shot forward.
Aldric's world slowed to a crawl.
The chief choked, his body jerking as the jagged rock pierced his chest. Blood bloomed against his tunic, dark and heavy.
Varek let go.
The old man collapsed.
Aldric heard his own scream before he realized it had left his lips. His sword slipped from his grasp as he staggered forward, his knees nearly giving out beneath him.
He had failed.
His vision blurred. Everything—the battle, the shouts, the flickering fire—faded into a dull hum. He felt weightless, detached, as if none of this was real.
Then—
A sudden gust of wind. A flash of steel.
A sword arced toward Varek, forcing him to step back. A cloaked figure landed between them, weapon raised.
Aldric blinked.
More figures emerged from the smoke. Adventurers.
A group of them, clad in worn but sturdy armor, rushed into battle, cutting through the remaining bandits with practiced ease.
One of them, a woman wielding a greatsword, glanced at Aldric.
"We were just passing through," she said, her voice steady, "but it looks like we showed up at the right time."
The fight reignited. The adventurers clashed with Varek, their attacks swift and precise. But even with their combined strength, the bandit leader held his ground.
Varek smirked. "This is getting interesting."
Aldric barely moved. His legs felt heavy, his body drained of all strength.
Then, something warm touched his hand.
He looked down.
The chief, still barely alive, had grabbed his wrist. His grip was weak, but his eyes… his eyes still burned with something fierce.
"You… have your father's heart," the old man rasped.
Aldric's breath hitched.
"You stood for us… just like he would."
A lump formed in Aldric's throat.
"But you're not done yet."
The chief exhaled his final breath. His hand fell limp.
Aldric trembled.
Then, something in him snapped.
The haze over his mind cleared. The exhaustion in his limbs faded. He forced himself to his feet, his pulse pounding in his ears.
He was not strong enough.
But he was not done.
Varek turned, his gaze landing on him.
"Oh? The little noble still has some fight left?"
Aldric raised his hand. Frost curled around his fingertips.
"You talk too much."
The air turned frigid.
Aldric lunged.
Their swords clashed, the impact sending shockwaves through his bones. Varek fought with a predator's confidence, his strikes clean and calculated. He dodged an ice-infused slash with ease, countering with a brutal kick that sent Aldric skidding back.
"You don't know the world," Varek taunted. "You don't understand how things work beyond your little town."
Aldric gritted his teeth. He had heard those words before.
But now, he wasn't listening.
He pressed forward. His magic surged, ice forming along his blade. He swung, forcing Varek to deflect. The adventurers seized the opening, launching a combined attack that pushed the bandit leader back.
For the first time, Varek scowled.
"Tch. Annoying brat."
A sharp whistle cut through the air. Varek leapt back, his form vanishing into the smoke.
Aldric's chest heaved. His grip on his sword loosened.
It was over.
But at what cost?
The village lay in ruins. A third of its people were dead.
Aldric barely registered the hands that grasped his shoulders, the villagers speaking words of gratitude. He only felt the emptiness settling in his chest.
He had won.
Yet, all he could think about was how powerless he had been.
Aldric stood amidst the wreckage, his body aching, his mind adrift. The night air was thick with the scent of burnt wood and blood. Around him, the village lay in ruins. Some homes still smoldered, their charred remains barely standing. The once-bustling streets were now littered with the fallen—bandits and villagers alike.
A child sobbed somewhere in the distance. Women cradled their loved ones, their cries a painful melody of grief. The adventurers were helping the wounded, their faces grim, but Aldric could see it in their eyes—they had arrived too late to save everyone.
A man approached him, his tunic torn, his hands stained with soot. His face was streaked with tears, but when he looked at Aldric, there was something else.
"Thank you," the villager said. His voice was hoarse, but steady. "If you hadn't come, none of us would be here."
Others murmured their agreement. They placed hands on Aldric's shoulders, nodding in quiet gratitude.
Aldric swallowed hard.
He didn't deserve their thanks.
He had tried. He had fought.
And still, so many had died.
He turned, his eyes sweeping over the village chief's still form. His stomach twisted. The man who had believed in him, who had given his last words of encouragement, was gone.
It wasn't enough.
His fingers curled into fists.
A low chuckle echoed from the distance.
Aldric's head snapped up.
Standing at the edge of the ruins, half-hidden by the shadows of the forest, was Varek Earthshatter. Blood dripped from a wound on his arm, but he stood tall, his expression unreadable.
"You've got guts, noble brat," Varek mused, tilting his head. "I'll admit, I underestimated you."
Aldric's grip on his sword tightened. He took a step forward, but Varek merely raised a hand, his smirk widening.
"But let me tell you something, little lord," he continued. "This village? It was nothing. Just a fraction of what's happening beyond your cozy little town."
Aldric stiffened.
"You think bandits are the worst of it?" Varek laughed. "No. Outside your borders, monsters roam freely, nobles sell their own people, and entire towns vanish overnight. You know nothing of the real world."
Aldric's breath hitched.
Varek took a step back into the shadows, but his final words cut through the cold night air like a blade.
"You should watch out, young master." His voice dropped, almost amused. "Next time, I won't leave Dystonia alone. When I return, I'll burn it to the ground."
And with that, he disappeared into the darkness.
Aldric didn't move.
The cold wind howled through the broken village, carrying the weight of Varek's words deep into his bones.
He had won.
But it didn't feel like victory.
It felt like a warning.
A promise of something far worse to come.