The square of Elenadrom thundered with the roar of thousands. Orcs flooded the streets, their weapons clanging like war drums, their eyes glowing with bloodlust.
Ragon stood alone in the center, his body trembling not from fear, but from the storm surging within him. White sparks crawled over his skin, snapping at the air, each crack of thunder.
"Come!" he shouted, his voice shaking the ground.
The first wave charged. Ragon leapt forward, as he did a three hundred and sixty degree spin in midair as lightning arced down his arms.
He spun into a midair kick that split the skull of the leading brute, sparks dancing across the corpse. Landing low, he rolled under three swinging blades, electricity bursting from his hands as he drove both palms upward.
A bolt of white lightning tore through their torsos, blasting them apart in a spray of charred flesh.
More pressed in. A spear jabbed for his throat....Ragon backflipped over it, catching the shaft with his foot mid-spin. He wrenched it free as he landed, twirling it in a blur before hurling it like a thunderbolt. It pierced through five orcs in a row, their bodies convulsing as lightning crackled down the metal.
Another hammer swung. Ragon slid beneath it on one knee, sparks trailing behind him like a comet's tail.
He exploded upward with a spinning elbow, snapping the hammer-wielder's jaw sideways. Before the brute could fall, Ragon planted a glowing hand on its chest...electricity surged, and the orc's body detonated in a crack of thunder that toppled the line behind it.
They swarmed him from every direction, a living wall of tusks and blades. Ragon vaulted off a shield, flipping over their heads, lightning bursting from his feet to sear the orcs beneath.
In the air, he spinned, grabbed the edge of a rooftop beam, and used the momentum to swing down into the mass. His body became a storm, fists and kicks tearing through the horde in blinding arcs of light.
He seized a sword mid-swing, bent it with his bare hands, and thrust it back into its wielder's throat. Electricity laced along the blade, chaining through the ranks like fire along oil, dropping dozens at once.
For every orc that fell, ten more came. Their numbers blackened the alleys, spilled over the rooftops, pressed like a tide. Ragon was a blur in the chaos—rolling beneath strikes, vaulting off shoulders, spinning into acrobatic blows that blended martial grace with godlike ferocity.
A cart of javelins lay overturned nearby...he kicked it, sending the spears into the air, then relvolved into a midair spin. Lightning surged from his body, magnetizing the weapons. They rained down like a storm of thunderbolts, skewering orcs in every direction.
Thunder cracked. Corpses burned. The ground split beneath his feet.
He fought until his knuckles were split open, until his lungs burned, until the square was choked with bodies. He began to feel exhausted, but he couldn't stop. Not while his parents' blood still screamed inside him
At last, silence. The once-mighty horde lay in heaps, smoke rising from their charred remains. The stench of iron and scorched flesh choked the air.
Ragon stood amidst it all, sparks still crawling over his skin, his chest heaving. He turned toward the statue of Graknar. Its stone sneer glared down at him.
His body shook, rage boiling over. "No more chains. No more masters!"
He unleashed it all. Lightning and light erupted together. The statue cracked, split, and finally shattered, its fragments raining like broken thunder across the blood-soaked earth.
Only then did his strength fail him. He collapsed to his knees as his vision faded, as the villagers poured into the square.
The joyous cheers of the villagers could be heard as they had witnessed the destruction of their oppressor.
"Ragon!"
"Ragon!"
"Ragon!" they shouted, lifting his unconscious body in celebration. They rejoiced, unaware that the despair that fueled Ragon's fury was also a source of sorrow for him.
After nineteen long years of captivity, freedom was finally theirs.
Few Days Later...
Ragon awoke to find himself in a chamber filled with gold, lying on a king-sized bed. His head throbbed painfully as he sat up, disoriented.
"Where am I? Mother! Father!" he called out. Then the harsh reality struck him: as he remembered that he had lost his parents.
Tears streamed down his face as memories of that horrific day flooded back.
Just then, a girl entered the room, carrying a bowl of water and a towel. As she approached Ragon, she was surprised to see him awake, but to her surprise age never thought that a young man like him would be crying.
"He must be going through a lot" she thought as she hesitated to go closer to him, but she finally summoned the courage.
The young girl went closer to him and gently patted his shoulder, out if reflex, gripping her neck instantly.
"Please... you're hurting me," she gasped, her breath labored as she tried to break free from his grasp.
Immediately, Ragon realized she was not an orc, but a human. Instantly, he released her, as he felt a little bit embrassed.
"I'm sorry," he stammered, tears still in his eyes.
The girl, Thera, was a beautiful young woman with bright pink hair. She was the one who had been caring for him since when he was unconscious. And she understood it wasn't intentional.
"Please, Master Ragon. I feel your pain, but you don't have to dwell on the past. You need to rest. I'll take care of your injuries. Please," Thera urged. After all, he was now their savior, having single-handedly defeated the orcs a feat they never dared to dream could be achieved.
Ragon wiped his tears, determined not to appear weak before her. He stood up from the bed, with a serious expression.
"Where are my parents?" he asked, gripping her shoulders tightly.
"Your parents have been set to be burned on the boat in a few hours," she explained gently.
"Why would anyone do that? Without my permission?" Ragon was furious hearing that.
Thera placed her hand on Ragon's, as she wanted to calm him down and it happened to work.
"Master Ragon, you've been unconscious for a week. The villagers couldn't delay honoring your parents any longer. They believed it was the best way to show their respect."
Ragon's chest tightened as the words sank in. He pulled his hands away, staggered back, and darted toward the door. His legs wobbled under him as he tried to run, but his body was too weak. He collapsed to the ground, as he was completely exhausted.
"Please, let me help you," Thera said, rushing to his side. She carried one of his arms over her shoulder, holding him steady.
"You'll hurt yourself more if you push like this."
Reluctantly, Ragon allowed her to support him as they moved toward the door.
A Few Hours Later
The sun was setting, casting an amber glow across the village. At the riverbank, a boat filled with flowers drifted gently on the water. On it lay the bodies of Ragon's parents, surrounded by the finest offerings the villagers could muster.
The entire village had gathered by the shore, their chains discarded, their faces were all moody. Freedom had come at a heavy cost, and they owed their lives to the couple who had raised Ragon.
Ragon stood at the edge of the water, his knees trembling. He fell to the ground, tears streaming down his face as he knelt before the boat.
"Mom, Dad… You sacrificed everything for me, for this village. I should've been stronger. I should've protected you."
The villagers watched in silence, some of the kids couldn't hold back there tears they began crying too.
For years, they had known suffering under the orcs' rule, but this moment was their moment of liberation.
Ragon stood, his hands trembling as he took the ceremonial bow and an arrow from a villager. With shaking hands, he nocked the arrow, aimed at the boat, and said
"Rest in peace. I will make sure your sacrifice wasn't in vain."
The arrow flew, igniting the boat in a blaze of flames that danced against the darkening sky. The villagers bowed their heads as the boat drifted away, as the glow flame reflected on the water.
When Ragon turned back, he saw the villagers looking at him with admiration. No longer were they bound by chains, they stood tall.
An old man, leaning on a wooden staff, hobbled forward. He had lines on his face as they were extremely wrinkle which could tell that he was extremely old. He bowed down before Ragon, as he said in a low tone.
He was no other than he patriarch of Elenadrom. It was still surprising how he had survived during this Nineteen years of slavery,
"Master Ragon…I'm sorry for your loss, you are our savior. We owe you everything. All Hail The King" he immediately knelt down bowing his head
The villagers followed suit, bowing in unison. Their voices rose in a chorus, chanting,
"All Hail the King! All Hail the King!"