The horizontal dark red slash that had torn through Finn's body continued to burn through the trees, the flames licking hungrily at the surroundings. Icariel stood frozen, his mind unable to fully grasp the horror before him. His body trembled uncontrollably, his lips barely managing to form the words, "What the..."
Before his fear could paralyze him further, the voice in his head rang out with sharp clarity: [Hide behind the right tree at your side. Now.]
Without hesitation, despite the overwhelming terror, Icariel darted behind the thick tree, pressing his back tightly against the rough bark. He slapped both hands over his mouth to stifle any sound, his breath ragged, his heart pounding like a war drum in his chest.
Through the cacophony of burning wood and crackling embers, he heard it—footsteps. Slow. Confident. Approaching.
"Tch." A voice, smooth and chilling, filled the air. "To think the thought that you could escape me even crossed your mind."
Icariel could barely see, peering just slightly past the bark, but what he saw sent a fresh wave of fear coursing through his veins. A woman. She was unlike any woman from Mjull. Dressed in sleek black-and-white armor that hugged her figure, her long hair tied into a high ponytail, she exuded both elegance and danger. A massive two-edged sword with a black handle rested easily in her grasp, too large for her slender frame, yet she wielded it as if it were an extension of her own body. The weapon pulsed with the same dark red energy as the deadly slash.
A smirk stretched across her lips, an expression filled with amusement, cruelty, and insanity. Her gaze was locked on the lifeless body of Finn, her eyes gleaming with something close to ecstasy.
"To think," she continued, "only after killing this rat, you would come crawling here for my throat."
She shifted her stance, gripping the massive sword with both hands, and raised it high.
CLASH!
A blinding explosion of sparks erupted as steel met steel. The ground trembled beneath the force of the impact.
The woman's smirk widened, her eyes alight with excitement. "Isn't that right, Galien?"
Standing in front of the woman, his face contorted with pure, unfiltered rage, was Galien.
His sword, radiating with brilliant orange energy, locked against her corrupted weapon. His muscles tensed, veins bulging, as he pushed forward with all his might.
"You bitch!" Galien snarled, his fury barely contained as he stared her down, his eyes burning with the promise of vengeance.
Icariel's eyes widened in shock. "Galien?"
His gaze flickered to Finn's lifeless body, his friend's torso severed from the waist down, blood pooling beneath him. A single tear slid down Galien's cheek, his expression twisted in grief and rage.
"Why?" he demanded, his voice raw. With a roar, he swung his sword, the orange energy flaring violently around it.
The woman met his attack with ease, her smirk deepening. "It's your fault," she mocked, parrying his strike as if it were nothing. "For refusing our offer too often, you fool."
Another swing came—faster, fueled by unrestrained fury. "But I never gave you trouble!" Galien shouted. "I lived here with my family, with my people! Even when I refused you, I never dared raise a hand against your kind!"
"Haa…" The woman sighed in feigned disappointment as she took a step back. The dark red energy coiled around her blade again, pulsating like a living force. With a sudden movement, she unleashed another horizontal slash, the energy wave cutting through the trees like paper, racing toward Galien.
Galien barely managed to block, but the force sent him skidding back. Blood dripped from his lips as he staggered, his body trembling from the internal wounds.
Icariel, paralyzed by fear, pressed himself against the tree. "Is that really Galien? Was he always this strong? Or has he been hiding it all this time? But why?"
The woman tilted her head, eyes narrowing as she watched Galien struggle. Her voice dripped with venomous amusement. "You said it yourself best: 'Better to rid myself of those who refuse me now, before they grow into enemies I can't control. A refusal today may be a dagger tomorrow.'"
From a small pouch Galien had always carried with him, a strange energy began to emit. With a swift motion, he reached inside and pulled out another sword. The weapon shimmered as it emerged, its blade gleaming with raw power.
The ponytailed woman's smirk widened at the sight. She placed her left hand on her forehead, amusement dancing in her eyes."Hah… my leader gave you that magical pouch as a gift of trust. And you still use it? Now to stash weapons aimed at me? How utterly ironic."
"Shut up," Galien growled, his grip tightening around his newly drawn blade. "Shut your damn mouth!"
Still hidden, Icariel's pulse quickened at her words. "That pouch… it's the one Galien always carried. That's why he usually went barehanded on hunts. It wasn't just any pouch—it was magical. It could hold far larger things than its size should allow. But… hadn't Galien told everyone he found it alone in the forest?"His mind raced, heart pounding fiercely. "Was that a lie?"
CLASHH!
The battle erupted once more, fiercer than before. Now wielding two swords, Galien was a storm of relentless strikes. He pushed the mysterious woman back, his offensive overwhelming.
Clash, Clash, Clash.
Their weapons met in rapid succession, sparks flying with each collision. She swung her massive sword, aiming to sever Galien's hand, but he twisted his body, narrowly dodging. With a sudden counterattack, he struck her face—a shallow but precise slash just below her right eye.
She touched the fresh wound, her smirk flickering for a brief moment before a cold chuckle escaped her lips. "Still troublesome as ever… that's exactly why he wanted you with us, no matter what."Her dark red aura pulsed ominously around her. "Even locked away in this backwater village, you never lost your battle instincts—not even without training. But you should've gone all in from the start."
Her grip tightened around her sword. "Now that you took my attack head-on, you're suffering from internal wounds. Too bad for you."
With a sudden burst of speed, she lunged forward, forcing Galien onto the defensive, her attacks growing more relentless by the second.
Galien's thoughts raced as he felt the woman's relentless attacks cut into his flesh. "I can't defeat her… I'm sure of it. She's grown too strong."
A deep rage surged within him. "Damn it. If I hadn't taken that hit… If I wasn't bleeding out… I could end this. I could avenge Finn."
A scream tore from his throat as he leaped forward, swinging both swords with all his might. The woman met his assault with ease, raising her massive sword to block his strikes. Sparks erupted as their weapons clashed, shaking the ground beneath them.
Behind the tree, Icariel watched, frozen in terror. He had always known Galien was a superhuman—an awakened one, a chosen one. But Galien had told him before that superhumans could grow to become walking armies, unmatched in strength. Galien had claimed he wasn't interested in training to that level, choosing instead to stay in the village to protect his loved ones.
"How many things has he been hiding?"
What Galien was displaying now was beyond anything Icariel had ever imagined. He had hidden his true strength, and yet, even now, it wasn't enough. The woman was overpowering him.
The battle neared its end. Galien's breath grew short, his body swaying. Blood dripped from his wounds, staining the dirt below.
The woman smirked. "The end has come, I guess."
Galien fell to one knee, both swords stabbed into the ground to keep himself from collapsing entirely.
Icariel, still hidden, felt his heart pounding so hard it hurt. "If Galien dies… no one can protect us. No one can face these monsters alone. No one is strong enough to take his place. And no one can stop that woman."
His hands trembled, his body numb with fear.
"That means we will die."
"That means… I will die."
His dark eyes widened, pupils shaking violently as the realization paralyzed him. The boy was panicking, not from anything physically happening to him, but just from the overwhelming thought of death itself. That was how much he feared it.
Then, the voice in his mind spoke again.
Icariel's breath hitched. His eyes went wide, his terror momentarily replaced with sheer disbelief.
"WHAT?!" he blurted in his mind, responding to the voice in pure shock.
[End of Chapter 3]