The sky split open.
A streak of golden light tore across the horizon—fast, furious, and unstable. Villagers in the fields glanced upward, shielding their eyes. For a moment it looked like a comet.
But it wasn't.
It was Mathen.
His cloak whipped violently around him as he flew, muscles rigid, jaw clenched, sweat flying off his brow in rivulets. The wind howled past his ears. He muttered to himself between gritted teeth.
"Fools. Lazy, incompetent fools. I gave them orders."
His eyes blazed with a dangerous hunger.he yelled" search" The crystals—he could feel one. Somewhere in that pathetic little village. Close. So close he could taste it. His hands trembled from withdrawal.
"No more waiting."
But then… his body jerked.
The mana surge inside him flickered. His flight wobbled. His legs sagged. His chest tightened like a hand had gripped his heart.
"No, not now—!"
The glow around him collapsed. Mana sputtered out like a candle in the wind.
And Mathen fell.
He smashed through the canopy of trees beyond Kintol's northern boundary, branches breaking like bones, until he hit the ground with a sickening crack.
Dust flew. Birds scattered. Somewhere nearby, a cow mooed in panic.
He lay still for several seconds.
Groaning, Mathen slowly pushed himself up—blood trailing from his mouth, left shoulder dislocated, leg limping.
Still, he walked.
Through the woods. Through the pain. Through sheer force of desperation.
---
By the time he reached the edge of Kintol, the sun was gone.
Smoke painted the sky red.
Fire crackled from rooftops. Screams laced the wind. Blood stained the cobbled streets.
Mathen staggered into the village like a revenant—face grey, eyes wild, cloak torn, hands twitching with need.
Knights turned to him.
"My Lord Mathen!"
One dropped to his knees.
Mathen ignored them.
He grabbed the nearest villager—a woman with soot on her cheeks and a child clinging to her dress.
"Where are they ?" he hissed. "who is hiding my crystals?"
The woman stammered, "W-we don't—"
He backhanded her.
She fell to the ground. Her child screamed.
Mathen turned to the knights. "Keep searching! Tear every house apart if you must!"
The commander nodded. "Yes, my Lord."
---
He stalked through the streets, dragging people from doorways, from basements, from under broken carts.
One by one.
"Give me the crystals!"
"I don't know what you're talking about!"
"I said GIVE THEM TO ME!"
---
A mage emerged from a burning house. "Nothing inside, my Lord. Just bones."
"Then burn another," Mathen growled.
They reached a small cottage with a blue door. The sign read Branrik & Sons: Tanning & Leathers.
Mathen stepped in.
Elder Branrik sat in a corner, arms spread in front of his wife and daughter. His beard was soaked with sweat. His legs trembled.
"You…" Mathen's voice was a low growl. "You're one of the elders."
"I—I was," Branrik said.
Mathen walked slowly, like a predator. "Tell me where the crystals are."
"I swear," Branrik said. "I don't know. We gave you everything "
Mathen yelled" lies. There is still one, where is it?" Mathen thought" if only may mana hadn't ran out, I would have use search again"
Mathen's hand snapped forward—grabbing the daughter by her hair and lifting her off the ground. She shrieked.
Branrik's wife screamed, "Please! Let her go!"
Mathen yelled" start talking"
Branrik swallowed.
"Ierius, thats his name —he lives near the south field… a new house. They built it last week. He brought the crystals.Please… please let her go."
Mathen yelled" what does he look like?"
Branrik said" he's very small about half our size.
Mathen yelled
"so you lied to my knightis that it? Telling him the traveller died. Taking him to a fake grave?."
He tossed the girl aside. She hit the floor, crying.
To the knights: "Burn this house down."
Branrik shouted, "No! Please, no—!"
The mages flames answered.
---
Mathen stood outside, chest heaving, staring toward the south.
His voice rose above the chaos.
"LERIUS!"
"I know you're here!"
"You think you can take what's mine?! You think you can hide it from me?!"
Villagers stared at him like he was mad.
And he was.
---
The floorboards creaked.
A soft hum pulsed beneath the ground.
One of the Weston knights paused, squinting toward Frederick's newly built house. His hand went to the ground—fingers spreading across the wood, sensing the slight vibration.
"…There's something below."
Without waiting for orders, he unsheathed his blade and drove it through the floor with a crack. Then another. And another. He slammed his boot against the panel. The hidden hatch burst open.
A startled cry escaped Anna.
Inside the dim bunker, Valerius rose slowly, eyes narrow.
The knight dropped down with a thud, his boots thudding against the planks.
Frederick stepped forward. "Wait—please, we're not hiding anything!"
Valerius's voice was calm. Cold.
"We gave the tax collector everything. There's nothing left."
The knight didn't blink. He stepped past Frederick and grabbed Anna by the throat.
She gasped.
"Where are the crystals?"
Grace tried to pull his arm away. "Let her go!"
Frederick dropped to his knees. "Please—please don't hurt her!"
The knight's grip tightened.
Valerius's eye twitched. He took one step forward and clenched his fist.
BOOM.
His punch landed square in the knight's chest—shattering ribs and sending him flying through the stone wall of the basement. The impact caved the rock, a crater forming as dust and rubble rained from above.
"Run," Valerius barked.
"GO!"
Grace grabbed Anna, and with Frederick's arm over her shoulder, they scrambled up the stairs.
Valerius turned back.
A shadow stood in the dust.
Too late.
SHRAK!
The knight reappeared in front of him like lightning, blade slashing upward from his side. Valerius barely saw it coming. He was lifted off the ground, crashing through the trapdoor and blasting through the roof of the house.
He hit the dirt outside with a thud, dust exploding around him. A long, burning gash stretched from his hip to his ribs.
He winced, gritting his teeth. It wasn't deep—but it hurt like hell.
Then—he heard it.
"AHHHHH!"
Grace's scream.
Valerius's eyes widened.
He clenched his fists.
The rage boiled.
Not just rage.
Fury.
At himself. At the world. At the monsters in iron cloaks who thought their power made them gods.
His feet slammed into the ground—crack—the ground cratered beneath him as he launched forward like a cannon.
---
Inside the house, the knight stood in the living room—Frederick limp in his grip, blood pouring from the blade skewered through his stomach.
Anna collapsed beside him, screaming. Grace cried, clutching her mother.
"Frederick!" Anna sobbed. "No—no, stay with me!"
"Please—please don't die, Father!" Grace cried, her voice breaking.
The knight turned, uncaring. "Crystals," he said, his voice like ice. "Where—"
BOOM!
The wall exploded inward as Valerius smashed through it like a meteor. His fist connected with the knight's side—crack!—armor shattered, ribs broke, and the two of them were hurled out the other side of the house.
They slammed into the neighbouring home with brutal force, splinters and bricks flying in all directions. The impact blew the wall clean off.
The knight lay sprawled in the rubble, coughing blood.
Valerius stood over him, face shadowed, breathing heavily, a storm in his eyes.
He picked up the knight's sword, raised it high—ready to finish it.
But—
"Everyone around you is fragile. When you get angry… people get hurt."
The voice.
His mother's voice.
"You have to control your anger, Valerius. Because all life is precious."
He froze.
Chest heaving. Eyes locked on the man.
The knight looked up, stunned—and saw hesitation.
His lips curled.
He reached up, grabbed the blade with both hands—and punched Valerius with a gauntleted fist.
WHAM!
Valerius was thrown back, tumbling across the ground.
---
Inside the broken house, Frederick lay dying.
Anna pressed her hands to his wound. "Stay with me, please—Frederick—!"
Grace sobbed beside her. "No no no no please don't leave us—!"
Blood soaked the wood beneath them.
Frederick whispered, "I'm… I'm sorry…"
---
The knight emerged from the rubble, hand clutching his side.
"I'll admit," he spat blood, "you're not normal. For a villager."
Valerius rose to his feet. Slowly.
Behind him, through the gaping hole in the wall, he saw Anna and Grace clutching Frederick's body.
His jaw clenched.
Yelleen's voice echoed in his mind.
"Be careful. If that sword pierces your heart, you will die."
Valerius stared at the knight.
He saw it.
One star.
Yelleen spoke again.
"I'd tell you to run. But I know you won't. Not after all this."
"He's trained. You aren't."
"But this is your first real fight."
"Don't die, Valerius."
Valerius's knuckles cracked.
"I won't."
They charged.
Sword rang.
Steel clashed with speed and strength. The knight struck in heavy, trained arcs. Valerius dodged narrowly—his instincts screaming, feet dancing.
Each blow missed by inches. Valerius struck back—elbows, fists, knees.
A rib cracked. The knight grunted.
Valerius ducked under a horizontal slash, spun, and slammed his shoulder into the man's chest.
They both staggered.
The knight grabbed him by the throat—Valerius grabbed his arm and headbutted him so hard the man's nose broke.
Blood sprayed.
Steel flashed again.
The knight roared and brought his blade downward—a full-force overhead slash meant to split Valerius in half.
CLANG!
Valerius caught the sword between his bare palms.
The ground shattered beneath him. A deep crater burst open under his feet, dust and stone exploding outward from the raw impact. His legs buckled. His teeth clenched. But the blade—stopped.
The knight's eyes widened. "Impossible."
Valerius's arms trembled—but he didn't move.
The knight leaned forward, pushing down harder. "You think you can take on a knight of Weston?"
"You can't even use Vitalis."
Valerius's eyes burned.
"I don't need it."
With a shout, he shoved the sword to the side.
BOOM!
The knight's blade slammed into the ground, carving a crater in the dirt, sparks leaping from the steel.
Valerius moved immediately—his leg arced up in a tight kick, striking the knight's knee.
The armour bent with a loud crack. The knight stumbled.
Valerius didn't wait.
He stepped in, grabbed the knight's shoulder, and slammed his elbow into the man's helmet with a thunderous clang. The knight reeled back—stunned.
Valerius spun, swept the man's legs with a low kick—and the knight fell.
THUD!
In one motion, Valerius yanked the fallen knight's sword from the ground.
Then—
SHHHK!
He drove it into the man's chest.
The knight's body spasmed, his gauntlets twitching. Blood spilled from the corners of his mouth. His wide eyes locked onto Valerius's face in disbelief.
Valerius stood, panting, the blade still in his hands.
Around him, the village burned.
Screams echoed in the distance.
Valerius spared the knights life
He looked down at his hands.
Then he looked up at the broken house where Grace still wept beside her dying father.
And his jaw clenched.
This wasn't over.
---
The other knights turned their heads. A sound—steel crashing, buildings cracking. One of their own had fallen.
"What was that?" a knight muttered.
A second later, Mathen, far from graceful, ran on foot toward the chaos, his robes dirty, hair wild, eyes bloodshot from days of no sleep. He stumbled around a burning home and stopped cold.
There he was.
A boy. Small. Dust-covered. Holding a massive knight's blade in his grip like it belonged to him.
Mathen's pupils dilated. He pointed with both hands.
"It's him. It's him! IT'S HIM!"
His voice tore through the street like a bell of judgment.
"Capture him! I SAID CAPTURE HIM!"
Thirty-five knights and mages surged into the square. Their boots crushed gravel. Their cloaks snapped. Their weapons gleamed in the firelight.
Valerius looked around. They dwarfed him—all of them over ten feet tall. Armoured titans. Robed giants. Weapons drawn.
He stood alone. Bruised. Bleeding. Breathing smoke.
On the rooftop, Gavurn landed with a soft thump. His eyes narrowed as he looked down at the scene.
So, Gavurn thought, he's the one who brought the crystals.
Then he noticed the fallen knight—unmoving.
He beat a knight? Not just any knight, he beat an enhancer.
Valerius didn't move.
"You heartless people…" his voice rang out, sharp and filled with fury. "You come to this village and slaughter innocent people… for what?"
His grip tightened on the sword.
"Crystals? Is that it? Worth more than lives?"
No one answered. The mages raised their staves. Knights steadied their swords.
Valerius took a step forward.
"I've seen cruelty before. I've seen monsters. But you… you don't even try to hide it. You kill children just fro crystals?"
The image of the hooded man flashed in his mind. The moment he nearly struck down his sister. Eryndor's severed leg. His own shaking hands.
Something inside him shifted.
He raised the sword and said, "Come at me. I've wanted something to hit for a long time."
Gavurn's eyes narrowed. "Outnumbered… and still, he will not yield."
Then it happened.
The sword in Valerius's hand glowed faintly. The Vitalis around him surged. Not into spells, not into forms. Into him.
His… had awakened.
Gavurn felt it instantly. That fight… caused him to awaken?. He's a gifted one.
Even though he had awakened. Valerius had no control. NNo refinement technique. All the vitalis pouring into him—was useless.
Yelleen's voice whispered in his mind. "If you do this… you cannot avoid killing some of them. Because if you hesitate against these odds, you will die. Are you ready for that?"
And again—his mother's words came.
All life is precious, Valerius.
It echoed, louder and louder.
All life is precious.
All life…
He shut his eyes.
His mother's words came, but different this time.
If your life is ever in danger...don't hold back. Show your enemies hell.
Then opened them. Steeled. Determined.
He stepped forward.
The knights charged.
Valerius moved.
He spun, leapt, slashed—his blade carving arcs of pure force through the street. He fought with raw instinct, every strike unrefined but fuelled by rage and clarity.
A mage hurled fire. It struck his chest.
He didn't burn.
He cut the mage in half.
A knight struck from behind—his blade slashed Valerius's side. Valerius crashed through two houses.
A small wound.
He rose again.
They surrounded him. Valerius tore through them like a storm with teeth. He swung wildly, but each blow hit with unnatural force. A knight's head was punched clean off. Another was sliced from collarbone to thigh. Blood sprayed in arcs. Though it pained him to take so many lives, his will did not falter.
Gavurn stood frozen.
"This is… this isn't natural. He is just using raw strength. And yet…"
Mathen screamed from behind, "Why are you LOSING to him?!"
Valerius had four knights left. Then three. Then two.
He roared. He swung. He butchered.
Then Gavurn moved.
He leapt from the rooftop, sword in hand. The wind howled behind him. He crashed down, blade-first.
Valerius saw it. Raised his sword.
BOOM!
The impact split the ground. The shockwave leveled homes. A crater swallowed the street. Dust exploded outward in a massive ring.
Valerius held his ground—but barely. His knees shook. His arms strained. Gavurn's blade pressed down on him like a mountain.
Damn it, Valerius muttered. He's too strong.
Gavurn's leg slammed into his gut. Valerius flew backward. Before he could land, Gavurn appeared in his path and punched him down—his body slammed into the ground with shattering force.
A crater fifteen meters wide opened beneath him.
Valerius coughed blood. He couldn't feel his ribs.
Somewhere, watching through his eyes, a being stirred. It said nothing. But it watched.
Mathen stumbled toward him, grinning like a lunatic.
"What took you so long, Gavurn?" he laughed, drooling. "You got him, didn't you?"
He stepped into the crater.
Gavurn stood over Valerius like a dark tower.
Mathen stopped just in front of him, his boots crunching on stone and ash. He leaned down, face twisted with obsession.
His voice dripped with madness.
"Where is it…?"
A pause.
"Where is my crystal?"
Valerius held Mathen's ankle and crushed it. Mathen screamed and fell to the ground.
Gavurn stepped onto Valerius's back, pinning him down with brutal weight.
In a rage, Mathen raised his hand to cast a spell at Valerius—but nothing happened. His fingers trembled. He stared, confused, then realised the truth.
He had run out of mana.
Snarling, he yelled, "Gather all the villagers here—now!"
Still clutching his shattered foot, he glared at Valerius and said through clenched teeth, "You will give me what I want… or everyone here dies."
After a while, the remaining knights and mages had gathered all the villagers around the crater, forcing them to kneel in terror.
Mathen stood, limping slightly, and said coldly, "Let's try this again. Where are the crystals?"
Valerius, though bruised and pinned, lifted his head and replied defiantly, "We gave you everything."
Mathen snapped his fingers.
A mage stepped forward and set four villagers on fire. Flames roared. Screams pierced the air as the burning villagers collapsed, writhing in agony.
Valerius watched, horror-struck. "I told you—we gave you everything!" he cried.
Mathen snapped his fingers again.
This time, a knight stepped forward and—in one clean, brutal swing—beheaded four more villagers.
Valerius shouted, "Stop it! I'm telling the truth!"
But unknown to him, there was one more crystal—hidden in frederick's home It was the very crystal Mathen had sensed on his way to Kintol.
Mathen narrowed his eyes. "We're not going anywhere." He gestured to a knight and said, "Bring them."
Mathen sat down in the in the crater, eyes locked on Valerius. "My soldier told me that to save their families… the villagers had a lot to say about you." He smiled slowly. "Yeees… I know about them."
Valerius's eyes widened.
Mathen chuckled darkly.
At the edge of the crater, Valerius saw a knight dragging Grace and her mother into view. Both were crying, shaking, broken.
Mathen turned lazily and asked, "Where is the other one?"
The knight bowed. "He is dead, my lord."
Grace sobbed louder. Her mother tried to shield her.
Mathen looked back at Valerius and said, "So, let's start again."
Valerius's lips parted. He wanted to beg—he truly did. But then...
The being who watched him spoke.
"We do not beg."
The word please—so simple—refused to leave his mouth.
Trembling, Valerius said, "I… I have given you everything I have."
Mathen's eyes flashed. He snapped his fingers.
Two knights seized Grace and her mother. Forced them to the ground. Raised their swords.
Valerius screamed, "No. No—stop it. Stop it. STOP IT!"
Yelleen's voice whispered, faint but resolute—cutting through the haze of pain.
"There is one more, Valerius. In Theosis' house."
Valerius's bloodied lips trembled. His thoughts raced. He turned his head, barely able to lift it from the crater floor.
"Wait," he croaked, eyes locking with Mathen's. "I'll give it to you."
Mathen, hand half-raised, froze mid-signal. His knights stood with swords poised above Grace and her mother—one breath away from execution.
A long pause.
Mathen's fingers slowly lowered. His eyes narrowed. "So now… you're willing to comply?" His voice was laced with venom and suspicion. "Show me."
Still pinned under Gavurn's armored heel, Valerius forced the words out. "It's not with me. But I know where it is."
Mathen stepped forward—his foot shattered, balance unsteady. He leaned on his mage with one hand, but his madness still burned like fire through his cracked expression.
"Well then…" he rasped, voice rasping with rage barely contained. "Take me there."
He gestured to Gavurn, who removed his foot from Valerius's back—slowly, warily.
Valerius groaned, pushing himself upright on shaking arms. He didn't look at Grace, nor Anna, nor the villagers. He couldn't.
His eyes only met Mathen's.
A silent pact of desperation and fury.
And as Valerius stood—blood-soaked, bruised, broken—but still alive, a strange hush fell over the crater.
Even the wind seemed to pause.
For this was not mercy.
To Be Continued...