Under a gloomy sky, the once-peaceful village was now engulfed in roaring flames and crumbling ruins.
Thick smoke and fire filled the air, the acrid stench making it hard to breathe.
Children's screams and cries echoed through the chaos, their desperate voices clashing with the coarse shouts of attackers, made even sharper by the sound of explosions.
"The Dark Magic Cult is everywhere," a scarlet-haired girl whispered, crouching in the corner of a ruined building. Her eyes darted around warily as she spoke softly to the boy behind her.
"Roger, is the bomb ready?"
"It won't be long before the enemy searches this area. We need to get out of here fast."
Sweat dripped down Roger's forehead as his hands frantically worked with the materials scattered on the ground.
Finally, a faint white glow pulsed from the unassuming metal lump in front of him. He let out a long breath, his tense shoulders relaxing.
"Done." He quickly tucked the bomb into his pocket, grabbing a silver longsword nearly half his height from the ground. "Erza, which direction has the fewest enemies?"
Hearing the word "done," Erza felt a weight lift from her chest.
"Northwest," she answered immediately.
Roger's gaze swept over the shattered scene before him—ruins, flames, pillars of smoke. His mind rapidly pieced together a viable escape route.
Once he'd mapped out the path, he gave Erza a small wave, signaling her to follow.
Erza crouched low, moving swiftly and silently to join him.
The two kept a careful distance, weaving through collapsed houses and burning beams with practiced coordination.
As they neared the northwest corner, two figures suddenly burst out of the thick smoke ahead!
Roger's heart skipped a beat. His body reacted faster than his mind, dropping low and diving behind a crumbling half-wall.
At the same time, his right hand flashed a quick gesture behind him—alert!
Erza's breath caught at the signal. Every nerve in her body tensed, her eyes locked on the two approaching figures.
It was a boy tightly clutching a girl's hand, both panting heavily as they ran.
The girl's face was smeared with dirt and tear tracks, her eyes filled with pure terror. She kept glancing back, as if expecting something horrifying to pounce from behind.
The boy, though just as disheveled, seemed calmer. His eyes scanned like searchlights, watching for enemies that could emerge from any direction.
After observing closely and confirming no one was chasing them, Erza darted forward a few steps, closing the distance. She lowered her voice and said urgently, "That way's crawling with the Dark Magic Cult! Head northwest—there are fewer enemies there. If you want to escape, that's your best shot!"
The boy flinched at her voice but relaxed when he saw it was just another kid. He nodded firmly. "Got it! Thanks!"
Erza gave a small smile and waved it off. "No big deal. After all, Aunt Roberta gave us those delicious apple pies a few times."
"Mom…" At the familiar name, the girl behind him let out a soft sob.
The boy quickly raised a hand, gently ruffling his sister's hair, keeping his voice steady. "Don't worry, we'll find Mom soon."
Comforted by her brother, the girl's distress eased slightly. She glanced at the retreating figures ahead, puzzled. "Aren't… aren't we going with that big sister?"
"She's heading northwest, right?"
The boy shook his head, his eyes fixed on the fleeting glimpse of scarlet hair disappearing into the distance.
"No, we'd only slow them down if we followed. If I'm right, that was Erza—the one Mom told us about."
"She's always with Roger, so he's probably with her now too."
"With Roger there, they've got a good chance of escaping."
"After all, Roger's the best swordsman in the village, next to the chief."
Erza soon caught up with Roger, who was waiting in the shadows of a tree.
They exchanged a quick glance, seizing the moment. Together, they scrambled up a nearby tree with dense foliage, hiding in the thick canopy's shade.
Below, five figures in black and purple robes patrolled back and forth.
The moment the group's attention shifted to the other side, Roger sprang into action. He pulled a fist-sized metal box from his pocket, hooked his finger through the pin at the top, and yanked it. With a swift toss, the box arced low through the air.
Tap.
The faint sound of it landing drew the attention of one of the robed figures. "Hm?" He glanced down, muttering, "What's that?" Instinctively, he bent to pick it up.
The second his fingers brushed the cold metal—
Click!
The lid snapped open and spun wildly.
Whoosh!
A massive cloud of thick white smoke burst out like an exploding marshmallow, greedily swallowing the surrounding air. In an instant, it engulfed all five figures!
"Enemy attack! It's an ambush!" a panicked scream erupted from the smoke, sounding like a strangled chicken.
"Cough, cough! Cover your mouth and nose!" The others scrambled, frantically shielding their faces.
At that moment, a hoarse voice roared from the edge of the smoke in another direction: "Over there! I saw someone! The kids ran south!"
"Chase them! Don't let them get away!" another voice shouted from the haze.
Without a second thought, the group stumbled out of the smoke like headless flies, charging blindly toward the south.
Watching the dark figures rush off in the wrong direction, Erza nearly fell out of the tree in shock.
She whipped her head toward Roger, eyes wide. "That voice… Roger?!"
"Was that you shouting? How did you make your voice sound like that bad guy we ran into earlier? Is that magic?"
Roger grinned, sliding down the tree trunk with ease. As Erza followed, he said, "Not magic. It's called voice mimicry."
"Just a little trick I picked up back home. A lot of us learned it."
"That's incredible!" Erza's mind flashed with images of Roger throwing bombs, mimicking voices, and wielding a sword. She couldn't help but ask, "Where are you from, Roger? How do you know swordsmanship, how to make bombs and smoke bombs, and how to change your voice?"
"It's like… you learned all this stuff for war! Is your hometown always fighting or something?"
Roger let out a half-laugh, half-sigh at her conclusion. "You're overthinking it—"
Suddenly, a loud bang cut through the air. A dark glow flashed, and Roger's body was sent flying into the distance, leaving Erza's pupils shrinking in shock.