The sea breeze did nothing to mask the scent of blood.
Bodies littered the shoreline village burning homes, butchered families, red waves crashing softly in mockery of the horror. In the middle of it all stood a trembling boy, face streaked with ash and tears.
"Why?" he cried out, voice hoarse. "Why did you do this!?"
One of the attackers a man with cruel eyes and a sword still dripping with blood-looked down at him. He sneered, then leaned closer, savoring the boy's grief.
"It wasn't personal, brat. One of your cousins made a mistake refused to back down when he should've bowed. So the order came down. A lesson had to be taught."
He licked the blood from his sword, savoring the taste.
"Now you've all learned."
Then, without hesitation, he kicked the boy out through the shattered entrance of the house. The boy hit the ground hard, pain shooting through his ribs.
The man followed, smiling. But just as he stepped outside.
A single flash of silver.
The smile froze on his face. His head slid off his shoulders before his body hit the ground.
A man stood over him. A long blade in one hand. Face shadowed under a wide hat. Cloaked in blood and silence.
He moved without words.
Like a wind through wheat, he cut through the invaders one stroke per soul. Efficient. Merciless. Inevitable.
When the last body dropped, the boy stared up at his silent savior.
"W-why… did you help me?"
The man paused, eyes unreadable.
"…Just because."
And then, without another word, he vanished leaping away into the smoke and ash.
Shouts echoed from the distance.
"He's here! The cult bastard is here!"
"Find him! He's still nearby!"
The boy froze. They weren't looking for him. They didn't care about survivors. Their rage was aimed at something someone else.
The man who saved him.
But none of that mattered now. The boy turned and fled through the burning ruins, past his family's corpses, into the trees.
He didn't stop running.
Deeper and deeper into the forest. Until his legs gave out and he tripped, tumbling down a mossy hill. He landed in the mud with a dull thud, sobbing.
"Please…" he whimpered to no one. "Someone… something… help me…"
From the darkness, something moved.
A shadow slithered near.
A voice followed, silky and smooth, curling into his ears like a whisper through leaves.
"What's the matter, little one?"
A massive, serpent-like creature slid into view coiled, ancient, with eyes like molten gold.
The boy sat up, dazed. "My family… they're all gone. Killed. I'm the only one left…"
The serpent hissed with mock sadness, circling around the boy.
"So tragic. So alone. But tell me… do you want revenge?"
The boy's hands curled into fists. "Yes."
"Do you crave power?"
"Yes!"
The serpent paused then chuckled, deep and low. "Well… you cannot have it."
The boy flinched. "W-what?"
"You're weak. Power is not for you. You're no hero, no chosen one. And without power… you'll never get your revenge."
The boy stared down, shaking. "Then what do I do?"
The serpent leaned close, breath cold against the boy's skin.
"I can give it to you. Power. Real power. But you must understand—I am no god. I am not one of those sword-flying immortals you've heard in stories."
The boy looked up. "Then what are you?"
The snake's grin split impossibly wide.
"I… am a demon."
Silence.
Then the boy clenched his jaw. "If that's what it takes… then fine. I'll accept. Make me powerful. Let me kill them all."
The demon's eyes glowed with delight.
"Good."
It lunged fangs bared, shadow stretchingand the world went dark.