Chapter 0:
The village of Elnora glowed under the warm light of lanterns, the air buzzing with music and laughter. Tonight was the Harvest Festival—where even the poorest farmer forgot his worries, and children ran wild with wooden dragon masks, laughing as firecrackers lit up the night sky.
Altho leaned against the wooden fence near the main square, watching his little brother Ari run through the crowd with a stick-sword, swinging it at imaginary monsters.
"Don't go too far, Ari," Altho called, his tone half-warning, half-smiling.
"Yeah, yeah!" Ari shouted back, clearly ignoring him.
It was supposed to be a night of peace.
But peace never lasts long.
The first scream cut through the music like a blade.
The gates of Elnora shattered as rough men in bone masks and ragged armor stormed in, wielding axes and torches. Bandits. Dozens of them.
"Take everything! Gold, food, anyone who resists—cut them down!" their leader roared.
Chaos erupted. Stalls overturned, villagers screamed, and fire began to spread along the rooftops.
Altho grabbed Ari's hand and pulled him behind a cart. His heart pounded, but he remembered the small signal flare tied to his belt—a gift from his father, a retired soldier. If danger comes, send it. The kingdom will know.
With shaking hands, Altho lit the flare and shot it into the sky.
A brilliant streak of crimson fire split the darkness.
The bandits cursed, realizing what it meant. Reinforcements were coming—but Elnora might not survive long enough.
Minutes passed like hours. Villagers were being dragged out of their homes. Ari clutched Altho's arm, trembling.
Then it happened.
A voice—calm, cold, commanding—echoed across the square.
"Let them go."
Every bandit froze.
At the far edge of the burning village, she stood. A lone figure. No soldiers. No army. Just one girl.
She was older than Altho by a few years, clad in black-and-silver armor with a longsword strapped to her back. The light of the flames danced on her face, her eyes sharp as a predator's.
One bandit laughed. "Just one girl? Kill her!"
They never touched her.
Steel flashed. Shadows moved faster than eyes could follow. One heartbeat, two heartbeats—men were falling before they even knew they were dead.
She moved like a storm. Graceful. Precise. Ruthless.
By the time the last bandit hit the ground, the night was silent except for the crackle of fire.
She didn't look at the bodies. Didn't gloat. Didn't even speak to the terrified survivors.
She simply turned to the villagers, eyes calm, blade dripping with rainwater and blood alike.
"Is anyone hurt?"
Altho stood frozen, Ari clutching his sleeve, both staring at her in awe.
That night… would change everything.