"What the…"
Liam stood, the ocean stretching beneath his feet—yet he did not sink.
The waves churned, but there was no wind. Just the sky- Just blue, endless, both moving and unmoving.
Then—
"NOW... SEEMS YOU ARE FINALLY BACK, KID..."
The voice.
Loud—no. Not as much. Fading. Dying.
Liam grasped his head, a dull ache pressing against his skull.
"What… this… something… I remember…"
The sea rippled.
A shudder ran through him.
"This scene… the sea…"
Faint whispers bled into his mind. Not his own.
"H…e..y…"
"The blue, no, it was dark... too dark..."
Deep blue flickered—black. Too dark. Too deep.
"K…I…D…"
Something was pulling at him.
"When… where…"
His stomach twisted. Something was wrong.
"HEY KID!"
*GASP* His eyes snapped open.
A breathless gasp tore from his lungs.
The sea was gone.
The forest was still.
The world had not changed, yet it felt… different.
Liam looked down, his hands still dirty but... the blood- the wound, no more...
'Good. Now you are finally awake.'
Liam's breath steadied. He turned—nothing. No one.
The silence of the trees pressed against his skin.
'I saw you before…' The voice slithered through his mind.
Liam froze.
Still, no one.
'…And I see you are desperate. You need power, don't you?'
His fingers twitched.
A slow exhale. A steadying breath.
Something was speaking to him.
But more importantly—something was really watching him.
'Strength… if you want strength, I can give it to you… You only have to come to me…'
Liam sighed, rolling his shoulders, the pain... now returned. His gaze flicked toward the sky. The sun had barely moved.
"Hm. Seems not much time has passed. Good. Mercy won't be that mad."
'Yes, that's right… Stand up, come, follow my voice…'
Liam did stand.
But he didn't move.
Instead, he turned around, his hand traveling along the tree bark, tracing the countless deep grooves his blade had already left.
The only permanent mark of his insanity.
'Hey, kid, what are you waiting for!?'
His fingers curled.
A quiet moment.
His now unscathed forehead rested against the rough bark.
"Friend… I am sorry… I hurt you once again."
The leaves shuddered.
Liam's eyes shut, a small, tired smile curling at the edge of his lips.
"Take care." Then, he turned and left.
Not toward the voice.
Not toward the unknown.
Just… home.
'Hey, kid! That's not the right direction!'
Liam didn't stop.
'Hey!!'
His pace remained steady.
'I know you can hear me!!'
Liam exhaled slowly, rubbing his temples. His headache was getting worse.
"...Why the fuck would I follow a creepy voice speaking in my head?"
And with that, he just walked home.
...
The walk back felt faster than before. Maybe it was just the weight in his chest pushing him forward, or maybe he had been moving faster without realizing it. Either way, before he knew it, he was standing at the front door.
The scent of cooked food still lingered in the air.
Mercy had already finished preparing dinner or rather reheating the lunch.
His stomach twisted— probably not from hunger, but from something else.
He had left earlier, barely saying a word. They had been waiting, expecting him to sit down and eat with them, instead, he had put his things down, ignored the warmth of the meal, and walked straight back out.
And now, after all that, he was back... late...
Liam exhaled through his nose and pushed the door open.
Inside, the room was quiet.
Mercy sat at the table, her back to him, hands busy—sorting dried herbs or something similar. She didn't turn when he entered.
Liam lingered in the doorway.
She wasn't mad.
Not outwardly.
But he knew.
She always acted like this when she was mad.
Still, he said nothing.
Instead, he set down his things and grabbed a basin of water, washing up in silence. The coldness of it grounded him, but it didn't wash away the weight pressing on his chest.
By the time he finished, Mercy had finally turned her head slightly, watching him.
Her gaze flicked to the covered and untouched plate of food she had set aside.
Then back to him.
"You still not eating?"
Her voice was calm. Too calm.
"…I'm not hungry." Liam hesitated... he shouldn't have said that...
Mercy scoffed softly. "You didn't eat at noon, either."
Liam looked away.
Another silence stretched between them.
Then—Mercy exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "Are you really about to apologize?"
Liam's jaw tightened. "I—"
"I'm not mad." She was absolutely mad.
He didn't call her out on it.
Instead, he sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. "...I just had things on my mind."
Mercy huffed, crossing her arms. "That's new."
Liam shot her a dry look.
She smirked—just slightly.
Then, her expression softened. "…I'm not mad."
She said it again, quieter this time.
Liam studied her for a long moment.
Then, he exhaled. "You always were a bad liar."
Mercy rolled her eyes but didn't argue.
Instead, she grabbed the plate of food, stood up, and shoved it into his hands.
Liam blinked.
She leveled him with a look. "Sit. Eat."
He hesitated.
Her eyes narrowed.
"Don't make me force-feed you."
Liam sighed, shaking his head. But this time, a ghost of a smile tugged at his lips.
"…Fine."
...
"Taegan...?" As Liam finished his plate.
"Ah, he left..."
"Hmh?"
"Do you not remember, he said he had to do something tomorrow and it seems something happened because he rushed away."
"Huh... Alright."
And after that... the hours passed in a quiet routine.
Mercy busied herself with small tasks—tidying up, checking supplies, mending a tear in one of Liam's shirts.
Liam stayed by the fire, absently sharpening his hunting knife, even if he didn't hunt much it was always by his side, a small sense of security.
For a moment, in this peace, everything felt normal. Even the weight in his chest had lightened. Just a little.
He still wasn't sure what exactly had been bothering him earlier—maybe it was nothing, or maybe it was everything—but for now, this quiet was enough to truly calm him.
Then, in the dark of the night.... it happened, something changed.
Liam noticed first.
His fingers stilled against the blade. His breathing slowed.
The air felt… off. Too quiet.
His eyes flicked to the window.
The usual hum of the forest was gone.
No wind. No insects.
Just silence.
His stomach twisted.
Mercy noticed second.
She turned slightly, her hands pausing mid-movement. "…Liam?"
He didn't answer.
He was already on his feet, moving toward the window.
Then, he saw it.
Dark figures shifting in the distance.
Flickering torchlight.
The gleam of steel.
Bandits.
Liam's jaw tightened.
Mercy stepped beside him, eyes narrowing. "Shit."
She moved before he could say anything.
But before she reached for her bow and dagger, Liam grabbed her wrist.
"Mercy—"
"We have to go." Her voice was firm.
Liam's grip tightened. "No."
She stared at him.
Then scoffed. "Liam. I'm not hiding while they burn the village down."
"You're not fighting either."
Her glare sharpened. "You can't stop me."
Liam exhaled sharply. His voice was quieter this time, but heavier.
"Hide... if they come here, let them take whatever they want."
Mercy flinched. "...What?"
Liam swallowed. "If they don't find anything of worth they'll move on."
She stared at him, disbelief flickering in her expression. "You seriously think that's how it works?"
"They're not here to slaughter," Liam said. "They're here to take. If you fight, they will kill you."
Mercy clenched her fists. "And what about the others?"
Liam's chest ached. "I'm going down to the village."
Mercy's breath hitched. "Alone?"
He nodded.
Her hands trembled at her sides. "...You're really asking me to just sit here?"
Liam closed his eyes for half a second.
Then met her gaze.
"Please."
Mercy's lips parted.
She didn't speak.
She didn't argue.
She just looked at him.
Then—after a long, painful moment—
She nodded.
Liam turned without another word, shoving the door open.
The cold night air rushed against his skin.
He ran.
Rushing down the hill.
Rushing toward the village.
Toward the fire.
Toward the blood.
Toward whatever came next...
...
The village burned.
The bearded man—the adventurer from this morning...
His grip on his axe tightened as he stepped over a crumpled body, boots crushing dying embers into the dirt.
The raid was going as smoothly as expected.
No real fighters. No resistance.
Exactly like they thought.
"Do we take the livestock too?" The lean man stepped in from the side, dagger still slick with blood, watching the flames spread with an easy grin.
"Lenrick... are you actually stupid? Should we drag them across the damned forest or something?"
"Uh! Uhm no, sorry Joren..."
"You shouldn't speak to him now... he is still angry from not getting the right to kill that guy..." The quiet one, the woman, stood near the well, arms crossed, watching everything with cold detachment. She had been cautious at first—watching for trouble, waiting for some hidden warrior to come charging out just like the Boss said.
But there was nothing.
Just weaklings.
"Ah, do you mean that big pig?"
"Yeah, he is also one of the targets of the client so he should be spared no matter what."
"Ah, but wasn't the Boss going to take care of that, why is Joren angry?"
"Yeah, he is just pissed from being looked down on by that guy..."
"Rhea, Lenrick!!" Joren called to the two dragging behind.
"Yeah..."
"Coming..."
Joren smirked, rolling his shoulders. "Alright, let's clean up the rest. Get as much stuff as you can."
A few villagers had already been cut down. The rest? Hiding. Cowering.
But this one in front of him?
Joren planted his boot against the farmer's chest, forcing him back onto the dirt. The man gasped, clutching his ribs. He had already taken a few hits but they weren't aimed at killing... only pain...
"Sadly you can't take much more..." Joren sounded disheartened.
"P-please," the farmer wheezed, blood running down his face.
Joren just laughed. The Boss has been so sure earlier—so sure that someone here could be dangerous.
Yet here they were.
No one.
Nothing.
The merchant from earlier? Dead.
That arrogant villager who had stepped in earlier today?
Gone. Or hiding like the rest.
Joren raised his axe. "This is—"
A dull thud. "Hey!"
Something hitting the ground.
Lenrick turned first, irritation flickering across his face.
Then—
They saw him.
A figure, stepping from the shadows, firelight dancing across his face.
Tall. Broad.
The same damn villager from before.
Joren blinked. Then he grinned.
"Well, well, well." He planted his axe against the ground. "Look who decided to show up. My main course..."
Lenrick scoffed. "Ah, it's the villager—Piggy, was it?" Liam didn't speak.
His gaze flicked to the man on the ground.
To the blood.
To the burning homes.
And something about his silence made Joren's grin twitch.
"Joren... don't forget you shouldn't kill..." Rhea warned.
"Shut up!!" But Joren wasn't going to give up this chance to smash that arrogant face.
Lenrick scoffed again, spinning his dagger. "What, you think you're here to stop us?" He nodded at the glowing text above Liam's head. "You really don't get how this works, do you?"
Joren chuckled, grinning fully, stepping closer. "You're nothing. We are more than fifty... but I alone am enough to squash you!!"
Then, he charged.