Harres tidied up the dining table while Aleeora tried to help by carrying the dirty plates to him.
"Thank you," Harres said warmly with a smile. Once everything was put away, he picked up a blue scarf and a small silver sword.
He gently wrapped the scarf around Aleeora's shoulders, then handed her the small sword. After that, he walked toward the door, reaching for his own sword that rested against the frame.
Slowly, his hand pulled open the wooden door, letting the morning sunlight spill inside. Birds were already singing, their voices filling the sky like a hymn of dawn.
"Let's go," Harres said, extending his hand.
Aleeora nodded and grasped his large, calloused palm.
The morning was calm and serene. Around them, animals busied themselves with their routines, as if the tragic events of the past few days had never happened.
"Where are we going?" Aleeora asked, tilting her head up at the old man.
"To the cliffs nearby. There's something I want to show you," Harres replied, his eyes fixed ahead. His brown eyes gleamed when the sunlight struck them, making them look almost golden.
A gentle breeze swept past, ruffling his thick hair. After several minutes of walking, they finally reached their destination.
Aleeora's eyes widened. Her gaze was immediately drawn to a massive stone blade planted firmly in the grassy earth.
And it wasn't just one. Five colossal sword monuments jutted out from different directions, each one standing tall like silent guardians.
Harres walked closer, brushing away the weeds growing around one of the swords. He ran a hand across its weathered surface.
"I've always wondered what the inscriptions on these monuments mean," he muttered, glancing at Aleeora before gently patting her head.
"I've searched through countless libraries in this city, but no record mentions them."
Curious, Aleeora stepped closer, studying the ancient carvings. Her small fingers reached out to touch the rough stone—when suddenly, the letters began to glow, snaking across the surface like veins of light.
"Aleeora…"
Harres instinctively pulled her back, alarmed.
"Wait!" she cried. "They're trying to whisper to me."
"Whisper?" Harres echoed, bewildered. He turned back toward the glowing inscriptions. The letters shifted, rearranging themselves as if piecing together a forgotten message.
"I… I can hear them," Aleeora whispered, her voice trembling, as if straining to catch the faintest echoes.
"The angels have fallen. The rest we entrust to you… three chosen ones."
Harres froze, his chest tightening. Words from an ancient prophecy—spoken now through the lips of a child.
"You… you can read this?" he asked in disbelief.
"I don't understand how, but it feels strangely familiar," Aleeora said. She pulled free from his grip and rushed back to the monument.
Her small hand traced the glowing words as her lips moved, reading aloud every line.
"Three chosen ones… you must bring an end to it all. Lead this world to victory."
The moment she finished, the inscriptions began to fade, dissolving into the stone as though they had never existed. Harres quickly looked at the other monuments, each one was vanishing too.
"What does it mean?" Aleeora asked, her voice anxious.
Harres stood still, deep in thought. "I can't be certain… but it must have been left by the angels themselves. a message for those destined to inherit their will."
He folded his arms, his mind racing. *So this girl… she's one of the prophesied figures from two thousand years ago. That explains the voice that's been echoing in my head these past days. It led me here.*
Aleeora tilted her head, puzzled by his silence.
"Old man?" she called softly, snapping him out of his thoughts. "Are you all right?"
"Ah—yes. I'm fine. Just… surprised that you could read it."
"Does that mean… I'm special?" Aleeora clenched her small fists against her chest, her eyes sparkling with hope.
Harres chuckled, ruffling her hair. "Maybe so."
But behind his gentle smile, his hand tightened into a fist. He turned back to the monument one last time before looking at Aleeora.
"Maybe so, Aleeora… maybe so."
Moments later, Harres began to demonstrate a sword technique.
"First, I'll show you a simple strike. Step your right foot back, then swing the blade down with all your strength."
He swung his silver sword in a single, powerful motion. The air split with a sharp gust, striking against a nearby tree.
"Then, pivot your right foot to the left, and—slash!"
His body turned smoothly with the motion, his blade cutting through the air. The gust surged forward, carving a mark into the tree trunk.
"Your turn," Harres said, planting his sword into the ground.
Aleeora glanced down at her small weapon, then back at Harres with a look of fierce determination.
He smiled faintly at her confidence, though a trace of worry flickered in his eyes. Her blade was small—if she lost her grip, she could get hurt.
"Careful," he reminded her. "Remember what I said."
"Yes!" Aleeora replied with a firm nod. She mimicked his stance, sliding her right foot back and raising her sword high.
Harres arched a brow, impressed by how quickly she copied his form.
With her eyes shut tight, Aleeora focused all her strength into a single strike.
Harres's chest tightened unexpectedly. Just watching her prepare made his heart race.
The small sword swung down—but instead of a gust, the blade slipped from her grasp and went flying across the grass.
Harres chuckled, folding his arms. "That was close, Aleeora. You almost had it."
Blushing, Aleeora jogged off to retrieve her weapon.
But Harres's expression hardened. The forest had gone silent. Too silent.
A familiar presence stirred in the air. His instincts screamed.
*Demons.*
So it wasn't her strike that had made his heart pound, it was this. The unnatural aura closing in.
Aleeora bent down, reaching for her sword. The bushes rustled violently. A hulking demon burst out, jaws wide open, lunging straight at her.
"ALEEORA!"
Before she could even turn, a blur shot past. Harres's blade pierced the demon's skull, pinning it against a tree. Blood sprayed across the earth.
Aleeora froze, trembling. Horrid memories resurfaced in her mind. Harres quickly moved to shield her eyes with his hand.
"It's all right, Aleeora. Just close your eyes," he said gently. She nodded with a shiver.
But Harres's breath grew heavy. The forest was crawling with them. He could sense at least fifty demons lurking nearby, waiting to strike.
He wrenched his sword free from the corpse and sheathed it, then lifted Aleeora into his arms.
"Old man…" she whimpered, her voice shaking. She was terrified.
"Don't worry. We'll make it home safely," Harres whispered, sprinting through the grass.
His breathing came in sharp bursts as he darted from tree to tree, narrowly avoiding detection. For a moment, he paused behind a massive trunk, watching a demon stalk past. Luckily, it didn't see him.
When the coast was clear, he ran again—faster this time.
But the demons weren't so easily shaken. Another one leapt from the bushes, dagger raised high.
Harres twisted aside, dodging the strike, then countered in a flash.
His blade severed the demon's head in a single blow.
But more were closing in. Their laughter echoed through the woods as they brandished their weapons, chasing him relentlessly.
"Why are they all here? Is it because of the monuments?" Harres thought, his mind racing. "No matter. I have to get her out of here."
He hurled his sword aside into the grass. The demons ignored it, too consumed by the hunt, their eyes fixed on Harres and the girl.
Once he had gained some distance, Harres closed his eyes and muttered, "Uliona Lukio."
In an instant, he and Aleeora vanished.
The demons skidded to a halt, snarling and scanning the woods. They searched, but the two had disappeared without a trace.
When Harres reappeared, it was at the very spot where he had thrown his sword. He snatched it up and resumed running, his face grim.
"If they've shown up here, then demons must also be appearing in the northern continent… I fear for that boy's safety."
Sweat dripped down his temple as he pressed forward, refusing to slow his pace.
Far away in the north—five days earlier—a boy was shackled in heavy chains within a burning mansion.
His young face was streaked with blood and tears, twisted with hatred.
"I'll kill you all, you bastards!"