That night, the sky over the small, sparsely populated Cloudbreak Village was lightrain yet ravaged by a violent storm. The few houses were scattered far apart. Lightning flashes, like furious dragons roaring, tore through the quiet night.
Inside the simple wooden house, the flickering firelight cast frantic shadows on the walls. The pained moans of a woman named Snow mixed with the growl of thunder outside. Her husband, Clayton, held her hand tightly, his face pale with worry as he watched her every breath.
The midwife urged her on, both encouraging and hastening, "Push, girl! Almost there! One more push!"
BOOM!
A thunderclap, earth-shattering and heaven-shaking, lit up the entire house as if it had struck right in the front yard. At the same moment, the sharp, piercing cry of a tiny newborn rose, cutting through the echoing thunder.
"He's here! A fine boy!" the midwife exclaimed, quickly using a clean cloth to wipe the child clean.
Clayton breathed a sigh of relief, kissing his wife's sweaty forehead. "You've been through so much, Snow."
Snow smiled weakly, her gaze full of tenderness towards her newborn son. The midwife finished cleaning the baby, swaddled him in a warm cloth, and placed him in his mother's arms.
"Clayton," Snow whispered, her voice faint but brimming with happiness. "Let's name him. The heavens struck with great lightning the moment he was born to welcome him. Let's give him a strong name."
Suddenly...
Bang!
The sturdy wooden door was blasted inward by some unseen force. A group of strange figures, their auras menacing and clad in robes of various colors, stormed into the house. Some had long ears, others had horns, some had wings, and many others looked bizarre and different. One among them was a scar-faced man with a burly build, his expression cold, his eyes like daggers—clearly their leader. His eyes scanned the room and stopped when they saw the child sleeping peacefully in his mother's arms.
"Boss, the lightning struck right here! It must be the brat in that woman's arms!" a subordinate dressed in red reported respectfully.
Their leader nodded slightly, his voice hoarse and chillingly indifferent. "I am one of the Three Sticks—Kain Novus. Hand over the child, and I will spare your lives."
Clayton held his wife and child tighter, standing up, his voice trembling but resolute. "Who are you? Our son was just born. What do you want?"
Kain Novus took a step forward, his oppressive aura making the fire in the hearth flicker as if about to die. "I will not repeat myself. The child, or your lives."
"Never!" Snow screamed, clutching her son tightly, her voice choked with tears. "I'd rather die than hand my child over to you freaks!"
Kain Novus didn't hesitate, flicking his wrist to give the order. "Then... die!"
The twelve subordinates drew their weapons in unison. The cold glint of blades flashed as they charged.
Clayton pushed Snow behind him, grabbing a nearby wooden stick to desperately fight back. But he was just a commoner; how could he oppose these skilled villains? A sweeping blade strike; fresh blood sprayed. Clayton roared in pain and fell to the ground.
"Wife... protect our son..." he gasped before closing his eyes.
"Clayton!" Snow shrieked in agony. Another henchman thrust his spear toward her. She held the baby tight, turning her back to use her own body as a shield for her son. The spear tip pierced through her chest. She shuddered slightly and fell beside her husband, her eyes still fixed on her child, who was screaming in terror.
A henchman reached out to snatch the baby.
WHOOSH!
A powerful surge of energy suddenly swept in, hurling the henchman several meters away into the wall. A tall, majestic, and imposing figure appeared in the doorway. It was an old man with hair as white as snow, yet his complexion was ruddy, and his body was robust and muscular, more so than any young man's. His eyes were sharp like lightning, exuding the imposing aura of a grandmaster.
"You beasts! How dare you commit such an atrocity, killing innocent people!" The old man's voice boomed like a bronze bell, full of majesty.
At the same time, a short, stocky figure shot forward like the wind from near the ground. It was a dwarf youth, stout and sturdy with a thick beard, wielding a small war axe. He rolled past Clayton and Snow's bodies, his strong hands steadfastly catching the child falling from his dead mother's arms.
"Old man! No time to hesitate! Secure the child first!" the dwarf youth yelled, clutching the baby to his chest and immediately rolling away from the encircling henchmen.
Kain Novus frowned, his gaze uneasy. "Long time no see. Has it only been a short while, yet you've aged so much?"
The white-haired elder chuckled lightly, his voice full of contempt. "Kain Novus? So it's you. No wonder we haven't seen your kind running rampant these past years. You were waiting for the chance to destroy the chosen one of the next generation. How despicable!"