Smoke rose over the distant treeline, thin and black against the morning sun. By the time the villagers noticed, the shadows of raiders were already spilling into the fields.
Elira clutched Lyria tightly, her face pale. "Not again… Spirits, please…"
The older men of the village scrambled for rusty spears and cracked shields. Their weapons, meant for wolves or petty thieves, were nothing against seasoned raiders. Fear rippled through the villagers like wildfire.
Ardyn stood apart, eyes narrowed, silver irises glinting with calculation. He could sense the raiders' strength, the surge of malicious intent in their hearts. Perfect.
"Mother, take Lyria inside. Lock the doors," he said quietly.
Elira's eyes widened. "Ardyn… you—"
"I'll be fine," he interrupted, calm and commanding, with a weight that silenced her objections. For a moment, she saw not a boy, but the Sorcerer General Kael Draven incarnate.
The raiders poured into the village, shouting, torches in hand, axes and swords flashing. Their jeers echoed against the wooden huts. One burly man raised his axe to strike a cowering farmer—but the weapon froze midair.
The raider's eyes widened in terror as an invisible force gripped him. Slowly, painfully, he turned to see a boy standing in the dirt road, silver eyes glowing faintly.
Ardyn lifted a hand.
The man flew backward like a ragdoll, smashing into a cart. The others froze.
"What… magic? From a child?"
"Demon!"
"Kill him!"
The raiders charged, but Ardyn's movements were effortless. He whispered a word older than kingdoms, and shards of pure mana erupted from his palms, piercing the attackers with precision. Flames coiled around them, invisible chains lifted them into the air, weapons shattering under the force of his power.
Villagers stared in stunned silence. To them, it was less battle than divine judgment.
One by one, the raiders fell, fleeing into the forest, their cries fading into the distance. The village was scarred, but intact.
Ardyn's eyes dimmed, the glow fading, though the weight of his presence lingered. He surveyed the battlefield: debris, smoke, and the whispers of villagers. Awe and fear mingled in their gazes. Loyalty, even if faint, had begun to root.
"Elira!" he called.
She rushed to him, shaking. "Ardyn! What… what have you done?"
"I told you. I'll be fine." His calm tone carried a quiet authority.
Yet, even as he spoke, a flicker of unease touched the edges of his senses. Someone had watched—not a villager, not a raider—but a hidden presence, cloaked in power beyond mortal comprehension, lingering just beyond the treeline.
Ardyn's lips curved into a knowing smile.
"Good," he whispered. "Let the world take notice."