The bandit leader strolled forward with the smug ease of a man already counting his winnings.
Keys clinked softly in one hand. His boots scraped against the stone as he stopped outside the cage and barked orders like he was calling for dogs.
"Back of the cage, boy. You two—" he jerked his chin toward Rhea and Tommy, "—to the door."
Kresos didn't move.
He stood his ground, feet planted, jaw tight.
Lord Franscio didn't look at him at first. Just raised a hand and spoke, calm and cold.
"Remember," he said, "you're the only one I asked for. Your friends? They're disposable."
Then he turned, locking eyes with Kresos.
"I suggest you cooperate."
For a second, Kresos didn't blink. Didn't breathe. His hands clenched until his knuckles went white.
Then, slowly, he stepped back.
As he passed Rhea and Tommy, he leaned in, his voice a whisper too low for anyone else to hear.
"It's going to be alright. Just wait."
Rhea's face was drawn tight, her eyes flickering with doubt. Tommy trembled beside her, fingers curled into tiny fists.
The key scraped in the lock. The cage groaned open.
Two guards stepped in without hesitation. Rough hands grabbed wrists, rope bit into skin. Rhea hissed through her teeth but said nothing. Tommy gasped—small, scared—but stayed quiet.
"Now you," the bandit leader barked. "Out."
Kresos obeyed.
Calm. Controlled.
He stepped through the threshold… and struck.
Like a storm breaking loose.
His fist shot out and crushed the nearest guard's throat in a single, brutal blow. The man dropped, gasping, eyes wide.
Kresos didn't pause.
He spun, ripping the sword from the man's hip in one fluid motion, pivoted, and snatched the round shield from his back. The stolen shield became a weapon—he hurled it across the courtyard like a disc. It caught a crossbowman in the jaw, shattering bone and dropping him to the dirt with a thud.
The others moved—too slow.
But just as Kresos turned to press the advantage—
"Stop."
One word. Quiet. Even.
But it cut the air like a blade.
Kresos froze mid-step.
Rhea and Tommy were still bound. Two soldiers held them firm—blades drawn, pressed to the sides of their necks.
"Move an inch," Franscio said, "and they both bleed."
He stepped forward slowly, brushing dust from his coat.
"And trust me… you'll follow."
A different kind of rage took root in Kresos' chest. Not hot. Not loud.
Black and endless rage.
"I told you..." Kresos growled, the words scraping up his throat, "...not to touch them."
Something cracked.
The ground trembled beneath his feet as a pulse of shadow erupted from his core—cold, jagged, hungry. Dark energy spiraled outward, wrapping him in flickering black and violet light. The air thickened, warped.
And then—
He moved.
Two spears of pure darkness formed in his hands and screamed through the air. They struck true—straight into the guards threatening Rhea and Tommy. No screams. No time. Just silence and stillness as both men fell, limp, the blades clattering uselessly beside them.
Kresos didn't wait.
He slammed his hands into the ground.
A monstrous tendril of shadow erupted like a serpent from the earth, surgically sweeping across the courtyard in devastating arcs. It struck like a warhammer—soldiers were flung like dolls, crashing into stone, weapons flying.
Some didn't rise.
The bandit leader tried to run.
The vine of shadowl caught him mid-step and launched him like a ragdoll. He hit the remains of a crumbled wall with a bone-snapping thud.
He didn't move again.
But it wasn't over.
Kresos turned to the man behind it all—Lord Franscio.
Their eyes locked.
The noble didn't flinch. Didn't panic. He studied Kresos with unnerving calm… like a man watching a volcano erupt from a safe distance. Curious. Cold.
Then the tendril struck.
But before it could connect, a golden dome shimmered into place around Franscio—an elegant, precise shield of light. The shadow slammed into it and shattered like obsidian on steel. The impact still sent Franscio flying backward.
He crashed into a wall, the golden shield cracking on impact before fizzling into pale sparks. Dust billowed. Rubble shifted.
Franscio rose slowly, coughing. Blood smeared the corner of his mouth. But his gaze remained steady.
Unimpressed.
Kresos stumbled.
His breath was ragged. His skin steamed. The aura around him flickered, then vanished. Smoke curled from his fingertips. The world swam.
But he was still standing.
And behind him… silence.
Then—noise.
Boots. Shouts. Metal.
More men poured from the ruins. Dozens. Maybe more.
Too many.
Kresos didn't hesitate.
He reached for the darkness again.
It answered.
A fresh wave of shadow erupted from him, swallowing the courtyard in inky blackness. Sight vanished. Screams rose. Crossbows twanged blindly into the void.
He grabbed Rhea's wrist, then Tommy's. Sliced through their bindings with a flick of his blade.
And ran.
He didn't know the way. But something pulled at him—like instinct, or fate.
Then, ahead—
A gate.
Reinforced. Heavy.
Not for long.
Kresos broke free of the shadow, dragged the others forward, and raised his fist. Power surged.
He punched.
A tendril exploded from his knuckles, slamming into the gate with bone-rattling force. Wood cracked. Iron tore.
The gate shattered.
"Don't let them escape!"
Kresos didn't turn. The shadows dropped. The light returned.
"Run!" he barked.
They did.
They sprinted across open ground, the trees growing closer—fifty meters. Forty. Thirty.
Then—
Thunk.
A single sound, sharp and final.
Kresos heard it. Felt it.
Then another.
Tommy's hand slipped from his.
Kresos turned.
Two arrows jutted from the boy's back.
He fell.
Rhea screamed. Her knees buckled. She tried to run back.
"No!" Kresos roared, catching her arm. "We have to go—now!"
Tears streamed down her face.
"He's just a kid—he's just a kid!"
Kresos grabbed her, voice low and steady.
"If we stop, we die, it's too late for him!"
Rhea stared at her brother's still form. Something broke inside her.
Then she turned.
They ran.
Into the trees. Into silence.
They didn't look back.
They didn't speak.
They didn't breathe.
Not really.
Eventually, they found shelter—a cave hidden beneath roots and rock.
They collapsed inside. Shivering. Hollow.
The shadows had followed them.
So had the loss.
Tommy's name remained unspoken.
But it echoed all the same.