Night fell over Brihan Village, cloaking Elijah's remote cottage in silver moonlight. Inside, the cozy kitchen flickered with the soft glow of firewood, and the smell of simmering chicken stew filled the air.
Elijah, wearing a simple apron, stirred the pot with quiet focus.
"Last night… when I was asleep," he muttered to himself, "a few assassins came for my life. I knocked them out and handed them to the village guards."
He leaned back against the wall, frowning.
"Strange, though. After that, the village head came and cast a protective barrier around my zone. I don't know how, but he did it. That's no ordinary power..."
A sudden crunch from outside interrupted his thoughts.
Elijah paused, assuming it was a stray animal—but the sound came again. This time louder. Persistent. Agitating.
He sighed, irritation bubbling up.
"Can't even cook in peace…"
Pulling the kitchen knife from the wooden block, still tied to his apron, Elijah stepped outside.
The cold wind brushed his face as he scanned the tree-lined path outside his cottage.
Suddenly—bam!
Someone tackled him from the side, sending him stumbling backward. In one smooth motion, Elijah flipped the figure onto the ground and pointed the knife to person's throat.
"Who are you?" he demanded coldly.
The person, hidden under a dusty cloak, raised trembling hands. The voice was weak, breathless.
"Please... help me. They're going to kill me…"
Elijah's eyes narrowed.
"Not unless you tell me who you are. I've already been attacked by strangers. I don't trust people with sudden entrances."
The figure hesitated, clutching the cloak tightly.
"Please… I can't say now… but I beg you…"
Elijah stood firm, the blade unwavering.
"I can leave you here. That's all I'll do unless you give me a reason not to."
The figure's hand trembled—until something slipped from inside their cloak.
A card.
Elijah spotted it instantly. He snatched it with the precision of a hawk.
"Student card of Constantine High…" he muttered.
His expression darkened.
"Don't tell me… you ran away from your house, and now your family's sent guards to chase you?"
The cloaked figure flinched. Elijah took a step back.
"Sorry. I don't interfere with family drama."
"No!" the figure finally said. "You're… partially right. But they're not guards. They're bandits! They destroyed our entire village. I'm the only survivor…"
Elijah's eyes narrowed further.
"Which village?"
"I'll tell you later," the person whispered, almost collapsing. "But please… help me."
Before Elijah could reply, a faint whistle sliced through the air.
He sensed it.
An arrow.
Without thinking, Elijah grabbed the figure by the cloak, pulling him back as he caught the arrow mid-flight with one hand.
He turned and scanned the treeline.
Dozens of bandits were emerging, torches in hand, blades gleaming.
"Tch… You brought trouble."
The cloaked person looked terrified.
"My home's there." Elijah pointed toward the cottage. "Go. My stew's on the fire. If it's ready, turn off the flames, set the table, and you can have one piece of meat. Just one. And please... avoid my room."
"W-what?" the figure asked, confused.
"No time," Elijah said as he turned toward the approaching threat. "Now go."
As the cloaked fugitive hurried inside, Elijah vanished into the trees.
The bandits closed in—but Elijah was gone.
A moment later, the first man screamed, dragged into the underbrush.
Another fell, spine struck by a thrown stone.
One by one, like a ghost, Elijah dismantled them in the shadows of the forest. His mind flashed back to Alaric's brutal training in the woods—the way he was taught to become invisible, to kill like a wraith.
"Blend with the forest. Let silence be your blade."
Leaves whispered, and Elijah descended on the last two bandits, disarming them with a blur of movement. When the chaos ended, all that remained was the rustling of branches and the groans of defeated men.
He returned to his cottage, wiping sweat from his brow.
Inside, the room was quiet.
The person sat at the table, asleep—head resting on arms. He hadn't touched the meat.
Elijah sighed and pulled up a chair across from them.
He placed the knife back on the table and spoke calmly.
"You can stop pretending. You're safe. Now tell me—who are you?"
The figure stirred.
Then, slowly, they reached for the hood—and pulled it back.
Elijah's eyes widened.
He froze.