After leaving Sol Academy behind, Bereshith continued traveling toward the east.
He had spent hours moving through the sky, using bursts of energy beneath his feet to propel himself forward.
The farther he traveled, the more unfamiliar the land became.
The cities and roads gradually disappeared.
The kingdom's territory eventually gave way to vast stretches of wilderness.
Forests covered the land beneath him, their enormous canopies appearing almost like a dark ocean beneath the night sky.
Bereshith continued traveling until he finally spotted something in the distance.
A small village.
It was surrounded almost entirely by forest.
A wooden wall had been built around the settlement, with a large wooden gate serving as its main entrance.
Several fire torches had been placed outside the wall.
Their flames flickered against the darkness.
Bereshith slowly descended.
His feet touched the ground.
He looked around.
"It seems there is a village here."
It was already night.
The forest surrounding the village was almost completely dark, and the sounds of insects and distant animals echoed throughout the wilderness.
Bereshith walked toward the main gate.
He had barely approached it when—
Three spears suddenly appeared in front of him.
"Who are you?!"
Bereshith immediately stopped.
Three men stood behind the wooden gate.
Each held a crude spear consisting of a long wooden handle with a sharpened stone tip.
Bereshith's eyes widened slightly.
He hadn't expected such a sudden greeting.
However, his surprise quickly disappeared.
He raised both hands to show that he meant no harm.
"Please, calm down."
His voice remained respectful.
"I am just looking for a place to stay."
The three men continued pointing their weapons at him.
Bereshith continued.
"I am running away from my home."
He offered them a small, apologetic smile.
"I can assure you that I don't mean any harm."
He looked toward the fire torch beside the gate.
"Honestly, you don't have to let me stay inside your home."
He gestured toward the light.
"Just let me sleep near that light."
The three men looked at one another.
For several moments, none of them spoke.
Eventually, one of them nodded.
Another man slowly pulled his spear away from Bereshith.
However, the remaining two continued pointing their weapons toward him.
The man who had lowered his spear walked toward Bereshith.
"Don't move."
Bereshith nodded.
"Of course."
The man began searching him.
From his head to his feet.
He checked his clothes, his sides, his waist, his back, and even his pockets.
He carefully touched every part of Bereshith's clothing, looking for weapons or anything valuable.
But there was nothing.
No sword.
No dagger.
No hidden weapon.
No gold.
No silver.
Nothing that appeared valuable enough to steal.
After finishing the search, the man stepped back.
He looked toward the other two and nodded.
The remaining men finally lowered their spears.
One of them spoke sternly.
"You can stay outside the wall."
Bereshith nodded.
"That's fine."
"Not inside."
Bereshith paused.
The man continued.
"We don't welcome outsiders inside the village."
His expression remained serious.
"We trust nobody."
He narrowed his eyes.
"Especially people who come from the city."
Bereshith's eyes widened slightly.
"!"
He hadn't expected those words.
But before he could respond, the third man spoke.
"Follow us."
The three men turned toward the gate.
Bereshith followed them.
They walked a short distance before stopping.
The man pointed toward the ground directly in front of the gate.
"Here."
He looked at Bereshith.
"You shall sleep here."
Bereshith looked down.
The place they had given him was directly outside the village.
The ground was wet and dirty.
There was no shelter.
No bed.
No blanket.
Nothing.
The three men turned around.
The wooden gate opened.
They entered the village.
Then the gate closed behind them.
Bereshith stood alone outside.
He looked at the gate.
Then at the surrounding forest.
A small smile appeared on his face.
"It's nice to see people listen."
He didn't sound offended.
Instead, he simply accepted their decision.
Bereshith looked down at the ground.
It was far too wet and uncomfortable to sleep on directly.
He looked around.
There were trees everywhere.
Bushes.
Branches.
And countless fallen leaves scattered across the forest floor.
An idea came to him.
Bereshith walked toward the nearby trees and began gathering dried leaves.
He collected them one by one.
Soon, he had gathered a large pile.
He carried them back toward the gate.
Then he spread them carefully across the ground.
He added more leaves until they formed a thick layer.
It wasn't a proper bed.
But it was enough.
Bereshith lay down upon the leaves.
He placed his hands behind his head and looked toward the night sky.
Thousands of stars filled the darkness above him.
He stared at them quietly.
"I hope..."
His voice was soft.
"...everyone understands my intention."
His thoughts briefly returned to the academy.
Lucas.
Yareach.
Lily.
Rayryn.
Inoha.
Levanah.
Lexy.
Cyse.
Cyte.
And all the others.
He wondered what they were doing now.
He wondered whether Lily had already returned to his room.
Whether someone had discovered the note.
Whether they had already realized that he was gone.
Bereshith slowly closed his eyes.
For now...
He simply wanted to rest.
And eventually, he fell asleep.
Several hours passed.
The three men who had confronted Bereshith earlier were still awake.
They stood near the wooden wall.
One of them carefully looked over it.
His eyes searched the darkness outside.
Then he spotted Bereshith.
The young man was sleeping peacefully upon the pile of dried leaves.
He wasn't moving.
He wasn't complaining.
He wasn't trying to enter the village.
He simply slept.
The man frowned.
"This kid..."
He glanced toward his companions.
"Does he not know the danger lurking outside?"
The second man looked over the wall.
He stared at Bereshith for several seconds.
Then his expression became troubled.
"You know what..."
He lowered his voice.
"I'm starting to have a bad feeling about this."
He looked toward the sleeping boy.
"I think it's best to get him inside."
The first man remained silent.
But before either of them could say anything else—
"No."
The oldest man spoke.
The other two turned toward him.
He was clearly older than the other two, appearing to be in his late middle age.
His expression was hardened by exhaustion and grief.
"No."
He repeated.
"Did you all forget the last time we let anyone enter our village?"
Neither man answered.
The older man clenched his fists.
"Our village was robbed."
His voice trembled.
"Our wives..."
"Our children..."
"They were taken away."
The other two men lowered their eyes.
"Two weeks."
The older man's voice became heavier.
"Two weeks have passed since then."
"We've spent every day trying to find our families."
He looked toward Bereshith.
"And now you're just going to let this young man inside?"
His eyes became filled with anger.
"How have you not learned from the mistake we made?!"
The other two remained silent.
"So no!"
The old man's voice suddenly rose.
"If he dies..."
"He dies because of his foolishness."
"We're not going to let anyone in."
His fist trembled.
"Whether it's a child..."
"An old man..."
"A woman..."
"Or a girl..."
"It doesn't matter!"
His voice echoed through the wooden village wall.
"No one..."
"Is going to get inside this village!"
Silence followed.
The other two men lowered their heads.
They understood.
"We understand..."
One of them quietly answered.
The second man nodded.
"We understand."
The older man turned away.
"If you understand..."
"Then get back to work!"
The two men reluctantly obeyed.
The village became silent again.
Only the crackling torches and distant sounds of the forest remained.
But none of them noticed something.
Bereshith's eyes were still closed.
Yet he had heard everything.
Every word.
Every painful explanation.
He remained completely still.
His breathing continued to appear peaceful.
But his thoughts were already moving.
I guess they do have a reason why they never let anyone get inside.
He slowly opened his eyes.
He looked toward the wooden wall.
They lost their families.
His expression became serious.
Their wives and children were taken.
He remembered something.
Earlier, while traveling through the sky...
He had seen something.
A caravan.
It had been camping somewhere northwest of the village.
Bereshith slowly sat upright.
But still...
His eyes narrowed.
I think I saw a caravan camping from above earlier while I was on the way here.
His concern grew.
Is it them?
He looked toward the northwest.
The forest was almost completely swallowed by darkness.
Bereshith stood.
He quietly brushed the dried leaves from his clothes.
Then he looked toward the village one last time.
He didn't want to wake anyone.
He didn't want to alarm the villagers.
And he certainly didn't want to make them believe that he intended to cause trouble.
But he couldn't simply ignore what he had heard.
If the caravan was responsible for what happened to the village...
Then there was a possibility that the missing families were still alive.
Bereshith looked toward the northwest.
His expression became determined.
"I should investigate."
He gathered energy beneath his feet.
His knees bent.
The darkness concealed his movements.
Then—
BOOM!
Bereshith launched himself into the sky.
He rose quickly.
So quickly that none of the three men noticed him leaving.
The wooden wall became smaller beneath him.
The village became smaller.
The forest stretched endlessly in every direction.
Bereshith looked toward the northwest.
He remembered the location of the caravan he had seen earlier.
Then he burst forward.
Another explosion of energy erupted beneath his feet.
His body accelerated through the night sky.
He continued.
Another burst.
And another.
Each movement carried him farther through the darkness.
Until eventually...
A faint orange glow appeared between the trees.
Bereshith slowed.
He looked downward.
There.
A camp.
Several fires burned beneath the night sky.
Wagons were gathered together.
And around them...
People were moving.
Bereshith's eyes narrowed.
He had found the caravan.
He slowly descended toward the darkness surrounding the camp.
Whatever had happened to the village...
He was about to find out.
The orange glow of the campfire slowly became clearer as Bereshith approached.
He remained above the trees, moving silently through the night.
At first, he thought it was merely an ordinary caravan.
But the closer he came...
The more something felt wrong.
Bereshith slowed down.
His eyes widened.
"...What?"
Below him was not one carriage.
Not five.
Not ten.
There were more than twenty.
Large wooden carriages had been arranged around the camp.
But these were not ordinary merchant carriages.
Their sides were reinforced with thick wooden bars.
Metal locks covered their doors.
And behind those bars...
Bereshith saw people.
Children.
Girls.
Women.
Some were young.
Others appeared to be middle-aged.
All of them were crammed inside the prison-like carriages.
Some children were crying.
Some women held the younger children against their chests.
Others simply sat silently, their faces empty from exhaustion and fear.
Bereshith's expression changed.
His eyes became cold.
He slowly descended behind a group of trees and observed the camp from the darkness.
There were approximately thirty men.
They were gathered around several fires.
Some were drinking liquor.
Others were laughing.
Their weapons were scattered around them.
Swords.
Knives.
Clubs.
They behaved as though they had nothing to fear.
As though the people locked inside those carriages weren't human beings.
Bereshith stared.
His hands slowly clenched.
"...So this is the reason."
The village.
The missing families.
The fear.
The old man's anger.
Everything suddenly made sense.
The villagers had not been paranoid.
They had been victims.
Bereshith's expression darkened.
Then one of the men stood.
He was heavily intoxicated.
He stumbled toward one of the prison carriages while laughing with the others.
The prisoners immediately became frightened.
The man opened the carriage.
Several people backed away.
"No..."
A young girl tried to hide behind the others.
The man's eyes fell upon her.
He grabbed her by the hair.
The girl screamed.
"Help!"
She desperately tried to hold onto the wooden bars.
"Please!"
Nobody moved.
The other prisoners were terrified.
They knew what these men were capable of.
The man dragged the girl outside.
She cried and begged.
"Please don't!"
"Someone help me!"
But nobody could move.
They were too frightened.
The man dragged her toward the darkness beyond the fire.
He began removing his outer clothing.
The girl realized what he intended.
Her face became pale.
"No..."
She shook her head desperately.
"Please..."
"Don't do this..."
Bereshith watched.
For a moment...
He didn't move.
His eyes remained fixed on the girl.
Then he saw her tears. He heard her voice. That before even the Man touches the girls clothes and body and do the deed.
Something inside him broke.
The energy surrounding his body suddenly erupted.
BOOM!
Raw energy flooded every muscle, every bone, every vein. The air around him warped with pressure. In one explosive leap he crossed the distance and seized the nearest man by the sides of the head. His bare fingers sank into flesh and skull. With a single savage twist and pull, the entire head tore free of the spine in a wet, ripping crack of bone and cartilage.
The headless body stood rigid for a heartbeat. Then a thick, pressurized fountain of blood erupted from the open neck stump, spraying in a wide, pulsing arc that painted the dirt, the nearest carriage bars, and the faces of the men closest by. The severed head dangled for a moment in Bereshith's grip before he discarded it like refuse.
Inside the prison carriages, every child and every woman who saw it screamed. The sound was high, raw, and terrified—dozens of voices crashing together as small hands and adult hands alike scrambled back from the bars.
The remaining twenty-nine men froze. Liquor vanished from their blood in an instant. Eyes went wide. Hands flew to sword hilts. Steel rang free of scabbards in a chaotic chorus as they armed themselves, forming a desperate, tightening circle around the blood-soaked figure who now stood over their comrade's still-twitching corpse.
Bereshith did not give them time to organize.
He moved.
The first man to step forward lost both hands at the wrists. Bereshith's fingers locked around the forearms and ripped outward with such force that the limbs tore free in twin sprays of arterial blood, tendons snapping like wet ropes. The man stared at the spurting stumps in shock.
Bereshith drove a knee into his gut, folded him forward, then stomped downward with his full weight. The heel smashed into the man's groin with a wet, crushing detonation.
Testicles ruptured.
The scream that followed was high and broken.
Bereshith ripped the ruined organs free, forced the man's mouth open with one blood-slick hand, and shoved the pulped flesh deep into the throat until the man gagged and choked on his own balls.
The body convulsed and went still.
Two more charged from opposite sides. Bereshith caught one by the jaw and the other by the hair. He slammed their skulls together so hard the bone folded inward with a wet crunch.
Brain matter and shards of skull sprayed across the dirt. Both bodies dropped in a heap of twitching limbs.
A third man thrust a sword. Bereshith sidestepped, seized the wrist, and tore the entire arm from the shoulder socket in a single upward wrench. Blood and hanging ligaments sprayed.
He used the severed arm like a club, smashing the man's face until the skull caved and one eye burst free of its socket.
Three more closed in. Bereshith dropped low and drove his fist straight through the center man's chest. Ribs exploded outward around his arm. His hand closed around the still-beating heart and crushed it inside the ribcage.
He yanked his arm free, the heart trailing vessels, and turned on the next attacker. He stomped the man's groin with enough force to pulp everything between the legs into a red ruin, then tore the testicles free and forced them down the screaming throat until the man choked and died on them.
Another sword flashed. Bereshith caught the blade bare-handed, ignored the cut, and punched through the man's sternum with the other fist. The chest cavity opened like a burst fruit. He ripped the head free next, spinning it off the spine in a geyser of blood that painted the nearest carriage bars.
The children inside that wagon screamed louder and scrambled back from the metal.
The circle broke into chaos. Men came at him in pairs and threes. Bereshith met them without slowing. Hands were torn off at the wrists. Private parts were crushed under repeated stomps until nothing remained but pulped meat and blood. Chests were punched open, hearts crushed or ripped out. Heads were twisted free or smashed between palms until the bone collapsed.
One man tried to run. Bereshith caught him by the back of the neck, slammed him face-first into the dirt, then planted a foot on the man's lower back and tore both arms free from the sockets in opposite directions.
He flipped the screaming man over, stomped the groin into paste, ripped the ruined organs free, and forced them deep into the open mouth until the throat bulged and the body went limp.
Another tried to hamstring him. Bereshith spun, drove both thumbs into the eye sockets until the orbs burst, then ripped the head clean off and held the spurting neck stump over another attacker, bathing him in arterial spray before punching through that man's chest and tearing the heart free.
One by one they fell.
Severed hands. Crushed groins. Punched-open chests. Heads torn free. Men forced to choke on their own balls as Bereshith shoved the ruined flesh down their throats until they died gagging on it.
When the last of the twenty-nine hit the ground, the clearing was a slaughterhouse of parted limbs, spilled organs, and blood-soaked dirt. The only sounds left were the crackle of the campfires and the terrified, muffled screams still coming from inside the prison carriages.
Bereshith stood in the center of the carnage, bare hands and feet dripping, chest rising and falling. The energy still hummed under his skin, but every one of the twenty-nine lay in pieces.
None of them would ever rise again.
Bereshith turned from the last of the broken bodies and walked toward the nearest prison carriage. Blood still dripped from his arms, his chest, his hair.
Bits of flesh and torn cloth clung to him from head to bare feet. He reached the iron door, found the heavy latch, and tore it open with a single pull of metal and wood.
The door swung wide.
One by one he moved down the line of carriages. Each lock gave way under his hands. Each door groaned open.
He spoke no commands. He simply freed them.
The prisoners stepped out slowly at first, then faster, spilling into the clearing. Their bare feet and worn sandals sank into the wet earth.
The sea of blood and the scattered remains of their captors greeted them at once—severed limbs, crushed chests, headless torsos, the thick copper stench rising in the night air.
Some of the children clung to the women.
Others stared in stunned silence at the slaughter. A few of the younger ones began to cry again, soft and broken.
Bereshith stood in the center of it all, the firelight catching on the blood that covered him. He looked at them—at the hollow eyes, the trembling hands, the way they kept glancing from the bodies to him and back again—and he smiled.
The expression was gentle, almost warm, completely at odds with the carnage that clung to his skin.
"It's great that you all are safe," he said.
No one moved closer.
The adults pulled the children behind them. Whispers rippled through the group. Fear still held them like a chain.
The man who had just painted the ground with thirty corpses now stood among them, smiling as if he had done nothing more than open a door.
Then a small figure stepped forward.
A girl, barefoot, her feet caked with dirt and now streaked with the blood that soaked the earth. Her clothes were ragged. Her eyes were open but unfocused, pale and sightless.
She walked with careful, measured steps, as if the ground itself spoke to her.
She stopped only a few paces from Bereshith and lifted her face toward him.
"Who are you?" she asked.
Her voice was quiet but clear. "Why are you shining in my eyes? I know I cannot see… but why can I see you? Gleaming in my eyes?"
An elder woman's voice cracked across the clearing like a whip.
"Tyflí!!!! Get back here!!!"
The girl turned her head, searching for the direction of the sound. She found it somehow, even in the dark.
"Grandma?! It's alright!" she called back. "You can trust this man! He's not danger like the other people who took us!"
Tyflí turned again toward Bereshith.
She did not step away. Instead she hold Bereshith's hand, and raised her voice so the others could hear her.
"He's the one who opened the doors! He's the one who stopped them! Look at what he did to the men who hurt us—he didn't touch us. He didn't take anything from us. He only killed the ones who kept us in cages. He's not going to hurt anyone. He's good. I can feel it. I can… see it."
Some of the women still held their children tight. A few of the young ladies watched Bereshith with hard, uncertain eyes.
But Tyflí kept speaking, calm and steady, repeating that he had freed them, that the blood on him belonged only to their captors, that the shining she saw in her darkness was not a threat.
Slowly, the tension in the group began to ease.
One woman stepped a little closer. Then another. A child peeked out from behind a skirt.
The elder woman who had shouted finally crossed the blood-soaked ground and took Tyflí's hand, though her own eyes never left Bereshith's face.
When the last of the fear had loosened its grip, Bereshith looked over the group.
"Who among you can ride a horse?" he asked.
A handful of voices answered—Ten of the younger women, Fifteen of the middle-aged women, and Eleven teenage girls who had once worked the fields.
Bereshith nodded.
"Those who can drive the carriages will take the reins. The rest of you will ride inside where it is safer. We travel together. I will lead."
He moved to the trees at the edge of the clearing where several horses still stood tied—animals the captors had kept separate from the wagons.
He cut the ropes with a single pull and led the horses forward.
Those who could ride solo took them.
The others climbed back into the open carriages, helping the children and the weaker women up first.
Torches were lit from the dying campfires. The flames threw long, flickering shadows across the blood and the bodies left behind.
Bereshith mounted one of the free horses.
He looked once more at the line of carriages, at the faces watching him from the bars and the open doors, at Tyflí standing close to her grandmother with her face still turned toward the faint, impossible light she alone seemed to see.
Then he turned his horse toward the dark forest path that led back toward their village.
But before he could even command the horse to move, Tyflí runs towards to Bereshith and pulled Bereshith pants and said: "Can I ride with you?!"
Bereshith was bewildered from the sudden action he never expected that before he could even response.
Tyflí's grandmother immediately runs towards where her granddaughter is and pulled her away from Bereshith: "Tyflí! It's dangerous! Let's just get back ride on the back of the carriage?!"
Then Tyflí gently said to her grandmother while holding her hands: "Grandmother, It will be alright. I promise you! For the 1st time... I can see something with these blind eyes I have! So please grant me to stay with him for this moments! I might not able to see this bright man! So please Grandmother, this is my only wish!"
Tyflí's grandmother was hesitant at 1st until she sigh, release her and said: "fine... Just get back to me, once we get back to our village!"
Tyflí smiled gleamedly and said: "Thank you so much, Grandmother!"
Then she divert her attention looked directly at Bereshith: "Please Mister! Can I ride with you?!"
Bereshith couldn't help it but sigh, and said: "Alright... but behave yourself."
Then Bereshith get down from the horse, lift Tyflí up and let her sat on the back of the horse, once Bereshith see how Tyflí sitting properly and comfortable she, Bereshith mounted the horse once again, but this time with Tyflí, the blind girl.
Then Bereshith commanded the horse to move.
From that moment.
The carriages creaked into motion.
Torchlight bobbed in the night.
The horses' hooves and the heavy wheels rolled over the blood-soaked ground and into the trees.
Behind them the clearing of slaughter fell away into darkness.
Ahead, the long road home stretched beneath the black canopy of the forest, lit only by the trembling flames they carried with them.