Under the shroud of the obsidian night, the oppressive air of impending doom seemed to thicken. Outside Stonevale, the bandit crew known as Blackwood had gathered in full force. Their torches sliced through the darkness like malignant stars, and the shattered remnants of the town's defenses quivered under their shadow. But Ethan had resolved to meet this threat alone. Gripping his Titan-forged sword, its hilt worn from countless battles, he emerged from his humble refuge with a determination fueled by a personal vendetta and the duty to protect those he had come to defend.
Without waiting for backup, Ethan surged forward into the tumult. The first wave of snarling bandits lunged at him as if animated by a hunger for blood and chaos. In an almost preternatural display of agility, Ethan sidestepped their clumsy attacks. His arms moved with an instinctive ferocity—a blend of modern combat discipline and ancient warrior prowess. Sparks flew as his sword clashed against crude axes and rusted blades. Each parry and counterattack was both precise and relentless, carving through the ranks in a ballet of raw violence.
A bandit with a jagged scar swung a heavy club in a wild arc, but Ethan anticipated the blow, ducking low and thrusting upward—a deep cut that pinned the assailant's arm against his torso. Another rushed him from the flank; swift as a striking serpent, Ethan countered with a vicious slash along the bandit's exposed side. The cries of his foes mingled into a cacophony of rage and confusion, but Ethan fought on, each movement calculated and resolute.
At one moment, as he parried a blow from two attackers simultaneously, his senses honed—reminders of his lost kingdom surfacing like fragmented memories—Ethan's every muscle seemed to pulse in perfect rhythm with fate itself. He spun, leaping over a fallen enemy, and delivered a decisive blow that sent one bandit reeling backwards into the darkness. The fierce determination in his eyes, accented by the burning sigil on his chest, cast him not as a mere warrior, but as a force of nature uncompromising against tyranny.
The skirmish raged with unbridled ferocity around him. Bandits darted in and out of the swirling melee, their crude weapons flashing in the dim light. Yet, one by one, they began to falter under Ethan's relentless assault. Even as fatigue threatened to erode his movement, the memory of his purpose spurred him onward; every attacked limb, every shouted curse from his enemies, bolstered the relentless rhythm of his combat.
When the last of the Blackwood bandits were left staggering or fleeing back into the shrouded wild, a heavy silence fell over the outskirts. Breathing hard, his body aching with wounds and exhaustion, Ethan lowered his sword. His single-handed victory was as brutal as it was somber—a grim reminder that the price of defiance sometimes was paid in blood.
In the immediate aftermath of the skirmish, as Ethan leaned against a shattered wall to regain his strength, the acrid tang of smoke and the distant murmur of cautious voices reached his ears. A soldier captain, his uniform dusted with the soot of battle and marked by the authority of Stonevale's guard, strode up to him. The captain's eyes, a piercing gray, examined Ethan's ragged appearance and the unmistakable crimson sigil burning on his chest.
"You fought fiercely, stranger," the captain said in a tone measured with both respect and wariness. "On behalf of Lord Samiel, I must inform you that you are summoned to his presence immediately. Lord Samiel wishes to speak with you regarding tonight's events and your... unusual origins."
Ethan nodded, wiping sweat from his brow as he gripped his sword's hilt a little tighter. "I will go," he replied, his voice low and steady despite the physical and emotional toll of the battle. With the captain leading the way, Ethan trailed back through the darkened streets of Stonevale toward the town hall—a sturdy stone building that served as the seat of local authority.
Inside the town hall, the atmosphere was heavy with tension and unspoken questions. Lord Samiel—a lean, stern man with guarded eyes and an air of decisive command—sat behind a long oak desk. The flicker of candlelight danced across his face, lending his expression a blend of authority and cautious curiosity as he regarded Ethan.
"Ethan," Samiel began gravely, "I have heard of your exploits this night. Your skill has saved many lives, but I must ask: from where do you hail? Your appearance and your markings, they speak of an origin beyond our common lands."
Ethan, still catching his breath, met Lord Samiel's gaze directly. "My past is filled with shadows—a kingdom of ancient glory I once knew, though I cannot say how it came to be lost. I search for answers, for the truth of what was taken from me." His voice, heavy with the weight of both sorrow and duty, resonated through the silent hall.
Lord Samiel leaned forward, his expression inscrutable. "I have no knowledge of any such kingdom within Stonevale's borders," he replied slowly. "Yet the echoes of legend and whispered lore may hold a key. I suggest you seek out Alexander, a great scholar whose reputation for unraveling ancient mysteries is known far and wide. He resides in the Dukedom of Valeria, where the old records and forgotten histories are carefully preserved."
Ethan's eyes narrowed as he considered this new lead—a promise of solace for his tortured soul. "Alexander… If he can guide me to the truth… then that direction must be pursued." He paused for a moment as his mind churned with the possibility of reclaiming even a fragment of his lost legacy.
Lord Samiel fixed him with a keen, thoughtful look. "Know this, Ethan: Stonevale will offer what limited shelter it can until the matter of the bandit threat is resolved. But you must not tarry here. Your journey—to find Alexander and the answers you seek—will take you into lands both treacherous and strange. My council and the King of Eldoria themselves have extended aid, but time is of the essence."
Ethan nodded solemnly, his resolve hardening. "Then I will depart at once," he declared. "I wish to know the truth of my kingdom. Tell me of Alexander's whereabouts."
"The great scholar Alexander has been known to travel within the dukedom of Valeria, where the ancient libraries hold secrets of our past," Samiel explained. "Seek him, and you may find the answers hidden in those venerable halls. But be warned—the path to Valeria is beset with dangers both mortal and mystical."
With the weight of newfound purpose pressing on his shoulders, Ethan bowed respectfully to Lord Samiel. Exiting the town hall, he stepped back into Stonevale's quiet gloom. The night threatened to yield to the early tendrils of dawn, yet within his heart, the journey ahead beckoned with a fierce intensity.
Outside the guarded walls, under a sky smeared with the first hints of rising light, Ethan prepared to leave Stonevale behind. His battle with the bandit crew had proven both his valor and the harsh reality of a world rife with treachery. Now, driven by the need for answers about his past—and with Rilan faithfully by his side—he set his sights on the distant dukedom of Valeria and the great scholar, Alexander.