The Night Patrol and Mando's Sacrifice
Part I: The Forest Watch
Darkness had settled over the ancient forest surrounding Padas City like a heavy cloak, the silver moonlight filtering through the canopy of leaves to cast eerie, dancing shadows on the forest floor. The air hung thick with the scent of damp earth and pine, occasionally punctuated by the calls of nocturnal creatures that echoed through the stillness.
Three swordsmen patrolled the outer perimeter, their footsteps deliberately quiet as they moved between the towering trees. Their hands rested casually on the hilts of their swords, eyes constantly scanning the darkness for any sign of movement. These men were the city's first line of defense against the demons that lurked in the shadows, waiting for any opportunity to prey upon the unwary.
Rol, the youngest of the three, tugged at the collar of his uniform as sweat trickled down his neck despite the cool night air. His stomach growled loudly, breaking the silence that had stretched between them for the past hour.
"It's quite tiresome to keep watch here," he remarked, rubbing his stomach with one hand while adjusting his sword belt with the other. His eyes darted hopefully toward his companions. "Do any of you have food?"
Mando, the largest of the three with broad shoulders and a full beard, chuckled softly. He was a veteran of many such patrols, his weathered face bearing the small scars that spoke of past encounters with the forest's dangers. Unlike Rol, whose nervousness was palpable, Mando moved with the easy confidence of a man familiar with his surroundings.
"Luckily, I have some Puto with me, freshly cooked by my wife!" Mando exclaimed, his deep voice warm with affection as he mentioned his spouse. He reached into his pack and withdrew a small cloth bundle, unwrapping it to reveal several white rice cakes that gleamed in the moonlight. The sweet aroma wafted through the air, making Rol's mouth water instantly.
Ram, the third member of their patrol, rolled his eyes but couldn't suppress a small smile at the sight of Rol's naked longing. Ram was lean and wiry, with sharp features and alert eyes that never seemed to miss anything. He had been silent for most of the patrol, focused entirely on their surroundings.
"Wow, you're fortunate to have a wife," Ram remarked, a hint of envy coloring his normally detached tone. "I don't even have one." As if on cue, his stomach released an audible growl that seemed to echo through the trees. Ram placed a hand on his midsection, looking slightly embarrassed. "My stomach seems to be singing. Mando, perhaps..."
Before Ram could finish his request, Mando shook his head in mock exasperation. "You're pitiful," he teased, though there was no real malice in his words. "Next time, bring your own provisions, Rol." Despite his admonishment, Mando's eyes crinkled with good humor as he extended his hand, offering several pieces of the rice cake. "Here, take this."
Gratitude flooded Rol's face as he accepted the food. "Thank you, brother Mando..." he said, wasting no time in devouring the sweet treats. The puto practically melted in his mouth, and he closed his eyes for a moment to savor the taste, momentarily forgetting the potential dangers lurking in the darkness around them.
Mando turned to Ram, whose pride was clearly warring with his hunger. "What about you, Ram? Would you like some?" he offered, holding out the remaining pieces.
Ram's expression remained stoic, though his eyes betrayed his desire. "I'm still full, thanks," he lied, straightening his posture and patting his clearly empty stomach as if to convince himself as much as his companions.
Pride will be the death of him someday, Mando thought with amusement, wrapping the remaining food and tucking it back into his pack. But I respect his—
His thoughts were abruptly interrupted as the unmistakable sound of an infant's cry pierced the night air, high-pitched and desperate. The sound was so unexpected, so out of place in this dangerous forest, that all three men froze for a heartbeat before instinct took over.
In perfect unison, they drew their swords with practiced efficiency, the steel blades gleaming cold and deadly in the moonlight. Each man assumed a defensive stance, backs forming a triangle as they scanned the surrounding darkness with renewed vigilance.
"Did you hear that?" Rol whispered, his earlier hunger forgotten as adrenaline surged through his veins. His knuckles whitened around the hilt of his sword, and his breath came in quick, shallow bursts.
"Yes, it came from the right," Ram confirmed, his voice low and tense. His eyes narrowed as he peered into the dense undergrowth. "I knew something was amiss in this area." As he spoke, he glanced behind him and noticed a subtle movement in the shadows at Rol's feet—something sinuous and unnatural that didn't belong in the forest floor.
Rol noticed Ram's suddenly intense stare directed at the ground near him. Panic flared in his chest as he interpreted the look as a warning. "Why are you staring at me? Is there something here?!" he exclaimed, his voice rising with fear as he looked wildly around.
"Easy there, don't shout..." Mando cautioned, his own sword raised and ready. His experienced eyes scanned methodically for the source of the threat, every muscle tense and prepared for combat.
"I'm sorry, brother Mando," Rol apologized, attempting to control his breathing and steady his nerves. But before he could say anything more, a pale, tentacle-like appendage shot out from the undergrowth, wrapping around his ankle with lightning speed.
Time seemed to slow as horror dawned on Rol's face. He opened his mouth to scream, but before any sound could emerge, the tentacle yanked with incredible force, pulling his feet out from under him. His sword clattered uselessly to the ground as he fell, arms flailing desperately.
Mando and Ram lunged forward simultaneously, hands outstretched to grab their falling comrade, but the creature's speed was otherworldly. It dragged Rol into the darkness with such velocity that he was gone in a blink of an eye, leaving only disturbed foliage and his abandoned sword as evidence of his presence.
"ROL!!!!!" The terrified scream echoed through the forest, followed by an abrupt, sickening silence that was somehow worse than the cry itself.
Mando and Ram stood frozen for just a moment, the implications of that silence settling heavily upon them. Then, as if released from a spell, they burst into action, charging headlong in the direction of Rol's disappearance. Their boots pounded against the forest floor as they crashed through underbrush and leaped over fallen logs, desperation lending them speed.
"Here's where the voice is coming from!" Ram shouted as they burst into a small clearing. Both men skidded to a halt, their blood turning to ice in their veins at the sight before them.
Rol's body lay sprawled on the forest floor, limbs twisted at unnatural angles. His skin was a ghastly white, drained completely of blood, and his eyes stared sightlessly at the canopy above. There was no blood pooled beneath him, no visible wounds—just a hollow husk that had once been their friend.
Mando fell to his knees beside the body, hot tears streaming down his weathered face as he reached out with a trembling hand to close Rol's vacant eyes. "May the gods guide your soul home, brother," he whispered, his voice thick with grief.
Ram remained standing, his face a mask of stone, but his eyes burned with a cold fire of rage. His grip on his sword tightened until his knuckles cracked, the only outward sign of the fury churning within him. I will avenge you, Rol, he silently vowed.
The moment of mourning was shattered when the sound of childish laughter—not crying—drifted through the trees. The sound was innocent on the surface but carried an undercurrent of something ancient and malevolent that raised the hairs on the backs of their necks.
Mando rose slowly to his feet, wiping the tears from his face with the back of his hand. His grief transformed into grim determination as he turned to Ram. "Ram, I'll handle this," he declared, his voice steady and resolute. "Make your way to the gate and report everything that happened here."
Ram's eyes widened in disbelief. "But Mando, I can't risk losing you like Rol!" he protested, the stoic mask slipping to reveal genuine concern.
Mando placed a heavy hand on Ram's shoulder, his gaze steady and sure. "If it comes to that, I trust you to tell my family that I love them." The words were simple but carried the weight of a final request.
"But Mando—" Ram began, unwilling to abandon his last remaining companion to face the horror alone.
"Move!" Mando cut him off, his voice suddenly sharp as a blade. "He's almost here! Hurry!" His hand dropped to the massive sword strapped to his back, a weapon so large that most men would struggle merely to lift it.
With no other choice and the understanding that warning the city might save countless lives, Ram nodded once, sharply. He clasped Mando's forearm in a warrior's farewell before turning and sprinting toward the city gate, every step heavy with reluctance.
As he departed, Ram glanced back one last time to see Mando standing tall in the clearing, a solitary figure bathed in moonlight. To his surprise, a confident smile played across Mando's bearded face as he drew his enormous sword and prepared to face whatever horror had claimed Rol's life.
May the gods grant you strength, brother, Ram thought as he raced through the forest, the sounds of combat already beginning to echo behind him.
Part II: The Demon's Challenge
As Ram's footsteps faded into the distance, Mando widened his stance and brought his massive sword up in a defensive position. The forest had gone unnaturally quiet, even the insects and night birds falling silent as if holding their breath in anticipation of the coming confrontation.
Come out, demon. I'm ready for you, Mando thought, his senses heightened by the imminent danger. His eyes scanned the darkness methodically, looking for any sign of movement.
Without warning, something shot from the shadows—a blur of pale, twisted flesh moving faster than should be possible. It struck at Mando with devastating force, aiming directly for his chest.
With reflexes honed by years of training and combat, Mando swung his oversized blade to intercept the attack. Metal met flesh with a sound like thunder, and to the demon's evident surprise, the blade did not give way. Instead, hairline cracks appeared along the surface of the sword as it absorbed the tremendous impact.
The demon recoiled, examining its attacking appendage with what appeared to be confusion. The limb was smoking slightly, the pale flesh charred where it had made contact with the blade. Silver inlay in the steel, Mando noted with grim satisfaction. The old stories are true, then.
A chilling laugh emanated from the shadows, neither human nor animal—a sound that seemed to bypass the ears entirely and slither directly into the mind.
"You still managed to laugh after what you did to my companion!" Mando shouted, disgust and anger evident in his voice. He adjusted his grip on the sword, preparing for the next attack.
From the darkness, a voice replied—silky and almost pleasant, which somehow made it all the more disturbing. "What do I care? Your companion tasted awful anyway." The casual cruelty in those words made Mando's blood boil. "But don't worry, since you were able to block my attack, I'll give you this."
A small object sailed through the air, landing at Mando's feet. Looking down, he saw what appeared to be a handful of small red beans, gleaming wetly in the moonlight.
"Red beans," the voice continued, a hint of amusement coloring its tone. "If you eat them, you'll become one of us, strong. Don't you want that?"
Mando's lip curled in revulsion. "I don't need that. I need to kill you," he declared, his voice steady despite the fear threatening to creep into his heart. In his mind, he saw the faces of his wife and young son waiting for him at home, their love giving him strength.
The disembodied laugh came again, closer this time. "He he he..."
Suddenly, a figure stepped into the moonlight, initially appearing as a handsome young man with delicate features. But as Mando watched, the creature's face began to transform—the smooth skin splitting to reveal glistening muscle beneath, the jaw unhinging to display rows of needle-like teeth, and the eyes sinking into the skull before re-emerging as bulbous, multi-faceted orbs that reflected the moonlight in a dozen fractured pieces.
"If you can!" the demon challenged, its voice now a guttural growl that barely resembled human speech.
Before Mando could blink, the demon vanished from sight, moving with that impossible speed. But Mando had anticipated this. In one swift motion, he reached into a pouch at his belt and extracted a handful of fine silver powder, a substance he had prepared specifically for night patrols in demon-infested areas.
With a practiced flick of his wrist, he scattered the powder in a circle around himself, creating a barely visible barrier that glinted faintly in the moonlight. Let's see if this works as the old hunter claimed, he thought, readying his sword once more.
Seconds later, the demon lunged at him from behind, clearly intending to end the fight with a single, devastating strike. But as it crossed the barrier of silver powder, a sizzling sound filled the air, and the creature let out a shriek of pain as its flesh began to smoke and burn.
Sensing his opportunity, Mando pivoted and swung his massive sword in a wide arc, channeling all his strength into the blow. The blade whistled through the air, aimed directly at the demon's midsection.
But the creature, despite its pain, grinned wickedly and twisted its body in an impossible manner, contorting around the arc of the blade. With horrifying speed, it extended one limb, now formed into a razor-sharp spear, and drove it deep into Mando's stomach.
Pain exploded through Mando's body as the demonic appendage pierced his flesh, warm blood immediately soaking his uniform and dripping onto the forest floor. The taste of copper filled his mouth as blood rose in his throat, spilling past his lips in a crimson stream.
The demon withdrew its limb and disappeared once more, reappearing atop a nearby tree branch. It crouched there like some nightmarish gargoyle, observing Mando's suffering with evident pleasure.
"Hehehehe, what now, human?!" it taunted, licking Mando's blood from its transformed limb with a grotesquely long tongue.
Mando fell to one knee, one hand pressed against the wound in a futile attempt to stem the bleeding, the other still clutching his sword. His breaths came in ragged gasps, each one sending fresh waves of agony through his body. Blood continued to trickle from the corner of his mouth, staining his beard crimson.
"Cough— It seems my time has come," he murmured, the words barely audible. In his mind's eye, he saw his wife's gentle smile and his son's innocent face, memories that brought a strange peace despite the dire circumstances. Against all odds, Mando smiled.
The demon tilted its head in confusion, its bulbous eyes narrowing. "Why are you smiling, huh?!" it demanded, unable to comprehend this human's reaction in the face of certain death.
Gathering the last reserves of his strength, Mando suddenly roared, "WHY AM I SMILING?!" The force of his shout startled birds from nearby trees. In one fluid motion born of desperation and will, he surged to his feet and lunged toward the tree where the demon perched.
With a mighty swing that sent pain lancing through his wounded body, Mando brought his sword down on the trunk of the tree. The blade, already weakened from the earlier impact, cleaved through the wood with a splintering crack. The tree began to topple, catching the demon by surprise.
This human's strength is extraordinary, the demon thought as it tumbled from its perch. Recovering quickly, it twisted in midair, transforming its limbs into deadly weapons as it fell, determined to finish what it had started.
But Mando was ready. As the demon descended, he dropped his sword and, with lightning-fast reflexes that belied his wounded state, grabbed the creature's right hand in an iron grip. The contact with Mando's silver-infused gauntlet caused the demon's flesh to sizzle and smoke once more.
"What now?" Mando taunted, a fierce light burning in his eyes despite the pallor of his skin. With his free hand, he delivered a devastating punch directly to the demon's left eye, channeling all his remaining strength into the blow.
The impact was tremendous, the demon's face caving inward where Mando's fist connected. Dark ichor sprayed from the wound, some of it spattering across Mando's face, burning his skin wherever it touched. But the warrior didn't flinch, his focus absolute in these final moments.
Howling in pain and rage, the demon transformed its left hand into a dagger-like appendage and plunged it into Mando's abdomen, directly into the existing wound. Fresh blood gushed from the deepened injury, and Mando coughed violently, more crimson liquid spilling past his lips.
The demon tried to pull away, to retreat and regroup, but to its horror, it found itself unable to move. Mando's grip on its right hand was unbreakable, a vise that even the creature's supernatural strength couldn't overcome. And with its left hand buried in Mando's abdomen, it was effectively trapped.
"Where do you think you're going..." Mando gasped, blood bubbling between his words. His eyes, though dimming, still burned with fierce determination. "You're staying here!"
As they remained locked in this deadly embrace, the forest around them began to lighten almost imperceptibly. The night was drawing to a close, the first hints of dawn approaching from beyond the eastern mountains. The demon seemed to sense this change, its struggles becoming more frantic with each passing moment.
Part III: Dawn's Reckoning
Slowly, the sun began to rise, its golden rays gradually penetrating the forest canopy. What had been a desperate standoff was now illuminated by the increasing light of day, revealing Mando's ashen face and the demon's grotesque form in stark detail.
The creature grew more aggressive as the light strengthened, its movements becoming erratic and panicked. "Let me go!!!" it demanded, its voice losing its earlier confidence. In desperation, it lunged forward, trying to sink its needle-like teeth into Mando's neck.
But even in his weakened state, Mando was a warrior to the core. The demon's teeth scraped against his skin but couldn't penetrate—whether due to some divine protection or simply the extraordinary toughness of a man who had spent his life defending others, the creature couldn't break through.
As the sun climbed higher on the horizon, its rays intensified, casting a golden hue over the macabre scene. Where the light touched the demon's pale flesh, it began to smoke and blister, the creature's supernatural strength waning with each passing second.
"S-stop... the sunlight!" it hissed, writhing in Mando's implacable grip. The proud, taunting predator of the night was now reduced to a desperate, cornered animal.
Mando's vision was beginning to darken around the edges, his life ebbing away with each drop of blood that fell to the forest floor. Yet his grip never faltered, his purpose never wavered. "You're not going anywhere," he whispered through clenched teeth, his voice barely audible now.
In his fading consciousness, Mando thought of his family once more. I'm sorry I won't be coming home, he thought sadly. But I've ensured you'll be safe... that this monster will never threaten you or anyone else again.
Meanwhile, from a ridge overlooking the clearing, a glint of sunlight on metal caught the attention of a patrol that had been dispa