The flames of Briarford rose higher into the night sky. Houses crackled as they burned, and the cries of the villagers carried through the smoke. Bandits laughed, their swords wet with blood, their hands heavy with stolen goods.
But at the center of the chaos stood Kael.
Wrapped in bandages, pale yet unwavering, he gripped his sword with both hands. Maverick stood beside him, his fur bristling, eyes sharp as firelight glimmered off his whiskers.
For a moment, the village square fell silent. Everyone—villagers and bandits alike—watched the bandaged boy standing like a warrior pulled from death itself.
Then one bandit scoffed, breaking the silence. "What's this? A ghost wrapped in rags?" He spat on the ground. "Look at him, he can barely stand. Just swing your sword once and he'll fall."
Laughter spread through the bandits.
Another one smirked, pointing his axe. "Hey, kid! Did your mother wrap you up like that so you wouldn't scrape your knees? You think you can scare us with that pretty sword?"
"Don't waste time," a third growled. "Cut him down and finish this. The brat will be no different than the guards we butchered."
But Kael didn't flinch. His eyes were steady, glowing faintly in the firelight. His voice was quiet but carried through the chaos:
"You burn their homes… you steal their lives. This village saved me when I was nothing. And now… I will save them."
The elder's lips trembled as he heard those words. His old eyes filled with tears. "He… he's standing for us. That boy…"
Villagers clutched each other, watching from behind broken doors and walls. Their fear softened just a little, replaced by a spark of something they thought they had lost. Hope.
"
The bandit leader snarled. His face was half hidden under a hood, but his eyes glared with fury. "Enough. Kill him."
The first bandit charged, swinging a heavy club down toward Kael's head. The villagers screamed.
But Kael moved. His body, though wrapped in wounds, flowed like instinct. He sidestepped, his sword flashing upward in a clean arc.
Shhhk!
The bandit froze, his weapon clattering to the ground. A thin red line ran across his chest before he collapsed in the dirt.
The laughter of the bandits stopped.
The villagers gasped. "He… he killed him in one strike!"
Kael exhaled slowly, lowering his blade. His heart pounded in his chest, but his grip remained firm. His eyes burned with something the bandits couldn't laugh at anymore.
Another came at him with twin daggers, fast and ruthless. Kael parried once, twice—then twisted his blade, sending sparks into the night. His counter cut straight across the man's arm, making him scream as blood sprayed.
The villagers cried out in awe. "He's not falling—he's pushing them back!"
Kael pressed forward, each strike cleaner, sharper, as though his body remembered something his mind had yet to learn. The Bloodheart Stone's power pulsed faintly inside him, lending his broken body strength it shouldn't have.
The girl clutched her mother tighter, but her eyes shone. "He's like a knight from the stories…"
The bandits hesitated now, circling warily. Their mocking grins had vanished. The smell of burning homes mixed with the sharp scent of blood, but Kael stood unshaken in the middle of it all.
One spat angrily. "He's just one boy! Kill him already!"
Three came at him at once, blades raised.
Kael took a deep breath. His bandages fluttered as the wind shifted with the flames. He stepped forward, his sword sweeping in a low arc.
Clang! Steel clashed with steel. Sparks danced. Kael spun with surprising speed, slashing one bandit across the back while blocking another strike with the flat of his blade. The third aimed for his chest—
But Maverick leapt, claws glowing faintly, raking across the attacker's face. The man screamed and stumbled back, blinded.
Kael seized the opening. His sword pierced clean through.
The villagers shouted, their fear transforming into something else—cheers."
"Gods above, he's turning the tide!"
The elder gripped his staff tight, tears streaming freely now. "This boy… he carries strength beyond his years."
The bandit leader snarled, stepping forward at last. His presence was heavy, his weapon a massive curved blade that glimmered wickedly in the firelight.
"Enough games," he growled. "You think you can stand against me, boy? You're nothing but a wounded rat hiding behind bandages."
Kael lifted his sword, pointing it straight at him. Though his body shook from exhaustion, his gaze did not falter.
"Try me," Kael said.
The villagers held their breath. The girl whispered again, almost in prayer:
"Please… win."
The square grew tense, the firelight casting monstrous shadows on the walls. Bandits and villagers alike waited as the leader and the bandaged warrior locked eyes.