The distant clash of steel and shouts drifted through the walls, shaking the Tier 1 house as Shiri lay on the floor, bandages pressed to his still-aching wound, whispering to himself, "Please… everything's going okay out there," his voice trembling, every groan of the building and echo of battle reminding him of the chaos beyond, as the sun barely pierced the smoky horizon.
Meanwhile outside, Ardan's laugh rang out across the battlefield, sharp and hollow. Not amusement—tension. His bandit horde, once unstoppable, now held back by a mere twenty men, faltered. Shame and exhilaration mingled in his chest. This was the fight he had craved, the chaos he had longed to unleash.
His eyes scanned the scene. From his vantage, Kairo stood atop the hastily built platform, calm and composed, yet burning with newfound strength. Ardan allowed himself a small smile. (The boy has realized the law of this world.)
His gaze flicked across the battlefield. The kabolts tore through the bandit ranks, clawing and slashing with mechanical precision, shields raised, circling, driving bandits back while ghouls leapt over, smashing with brutal precision. Onyx rampaged like a storm, violet energy lance cutting down any who dared approach. And the small one—Theo—stood in the center of the fray, sword in hand, flanked by Flint, the darker kabolt, who shielded him at every move.
Theo's thoughts swirled in a chaotic tide. (Big bro Kairo… why did he call big bro Shiri's name? What happened? His mind darted back to the captured bandits,tied near the barracks. (Did they… do something?) He watched Onyx leap back over the walls, returning to the battlefront. Theo's chest tightened with frustration. He was useless here, a child amidst seasoned warriors.
Flint noticed Theo's tension, moving to shield him instinctively. The kabolt's massive, armored form loomed protectively, but Theo shook his head. "No… let him get close." Flint's eyes widened, jaw tense, but he stepped aside, letting the bandit approach Theo.
Theo's grip tightened around the iron sword he had picked up from the ground. (No more helplessness. No more letting my family get hurt.)
A bandit barreled toward him, eyes wild with excitement and malice. Flint lunged, ready to intercept—but Theo held out a hand. "I've got this."
The bandit charged, laughing at the boy's size. "Ha! Letting that lizard move you was your biggest mistake, brat—you'll regret it!" Theo felt a flash of doubt, but the memory of Shiri return.
The second day of training, Shiri's hands moved in a blur, slicing through the air as he spoke, eyes sharp. (This first form… it's your foundation. Master it, and every strike, every defense, flows from it. Without this, no technique, no control—you'll be lost in the chaos of battle)
Theo swung. The iron blade cut through the air in a blur, a precise arc powered by determination. He remembered every instruction, every strike he had practiced, and the bandit never saw it coming. Theo shouted, "Rattle of the Deep!" unleashing the first form's strike. The blade struck the man's chest with deadly accuracy. Blood spattered across the battlefield. The bandit crumpled, lifeless, his scream cut short.
Theo's face hardened, eyes narrowing. (I will get stronger. I will protect my family. I will survive this, no matter the cost.)
A faint light flickered in his vision. His yellow eyes glowed, just slightly, almost imperceptibly at first. Flint noticed, head tilting in curiosity, as the aura around Theo shimmered faintly. Something deep within him had awakened—a latent potential that no one had yet witnessed.
Before he could process it further, chaos erupted again. Zeven dashed forward, silver blade cutting through the battlefield with practiced precision. Theo barely had time to react. Flint leapt in front of him, taking the brunt of the strike. Blood gushed from a deep slash along Flint's armored shoulder.
Theo yelled, gripping the kabolt's massive arm to steady him. "Flint! Hold on!" His voice rang with urgency, and he shot a glance toward the approaching Zeven.
Kairo's eyes widened as Zeven and Raghul joined the fray. He didn't know their names, only that these were among the enemy's strongest, and their sudden appearance suddenly sent a chill down his spine. His formation, carefully planned, now faced unforeseen chaos.
Ardan, watching from above, allowed himself a slow, measured laugh. This was no ordinary fight—it was the beginning of the game he had been waiting for. Zeven and Raghul were joining the battle.
Ardan's laughter cut through the chaos, sharp and dark. "So… what will you do now, lord?" he sneered, eyes gleaming with deadly anticipation as his forces surged into the fray. The battlefield trembled—only the bold would survive what came next.
to be continued....