I woke to the sound of two voices nearby, their words muffled but urgent. My head felt heavy, and everything around me spun as I tried to piece together where I was. The air was warm, the flickering glow of a campfire dancing against the cool night. I could hear the crackle of the fire and, faintly, the conversation between two strangers.

  “Why didn’t we just leave her at the town? There was a healer there, or at least an inn…” The man’s voice was calm, though there was a trace of hesitation.

  “Master, we can’t just leave her! She’s… she’s been through so much already. We have to help her,” the girl’s voice was softer, but there was a firmness there, as if she wasn’t going to back down.

  The man sighed, a long, almost tired sound. “I know, but I didn’t know what else to do.”

  “You should’ve been gentler with her,” the girl said, her tone quiet but insistent.

  I shifted slightly, trying to gather enough strength to sit up. The dull ache in my body was there, but something felt… off. I blinked, trying to focus. My chest tightened, but there was no burning pain—no sharp memory of the attack on my village. It felt distant, like a dream I couldn’t quite grasp. I should have been in agony, right? After what happened… But I wasn’t.

  The lack of pain was the first thing that truly caught my attention.

  I slowly opened my eyes. The soft glow of the campfire illuminated a small clearing in the forest, the dark sky streaked with orange from the setting sun. How had I ended up here?

  As I focused on the voices, I saw them both. The girl first—she looked young, maybe my age. Her long, golden hair framed her face, and her bright blue eyes held a softness that made me feel strangely safe. She wore a simple white blouse and a pale skirt that fluttered in the breeze, the fabric moving in a way that reminded me of a gentle breeze. Despite everything, she radiated a comforting warmth.

  But it was the man who caught my attention. He was older—at least, he looked older. His dark skin stood out even more in the faint light of the fire, and the all-black robes he wore—along with the matching cape—blended with the shadows. He wore dark sunglasses that hid his eyes, but even without seeing his expression, I could tell he was imposing. A few golden accessories caught the firelight: rings, a necklace, and a bracelet on his right wrist. His presence was heavy, like he commanded respect just by being there, though not in a threatening way. It was like he was a force of nature.

  When I moved to sit up, both of them turned their attention to me. The man didn’t look directly at me, but I could feel his focus, like he was watching me without ever having to turn his head. The girl smiled warmly at me.

  “You’re awake!” she said, her voice gentle. “We were worried. I’m Sora, and this is my companion, Arden. He… he saved you.”

  I turned my gaze to Arden. There was something about him that made him seem older than he probably was. His short, curly dark hair and stubble made him look more mature, like he could be in his early twenties. But I knew he was probably around my age. Maybe a little older? His dark sunglasses hid his eyes, and I couldn't quite tell what he was thinking, but there was something about him that made me feel… small, even though he wasn’t intimidating.

  I swallowed hard, trying to steady myself. The loss hit me again, and I felt my chest tighten. “Thank you,” I whispered, not really knowing what else to say.

  Arden didn’t respond, but he shifted his posture slightly as if acknowledging my thanks. Then, he turned away, his focus on something distant.

  Sora smiled at me again, though her gaze was softer. “It’s okay,” she said. “We’ll take care of you. Just… try to rest for now.”

  But my mind was a storm of questions. “What happened to my village?” I asked, my voice trembling despite my efforts to keep it steady.

  Sora’s face grew somber, and she hesitated for a long moment before answering. “I’m sorry… it didn’t survive. Everyone…” Her voice trailed off, and I could hear the sadness in her words. It was too much for her to say.

  I closed my eyes, trying to breathe through the tightness in my throat. How had everything changed so suddenly? One moment, I was with my family, and now… I was here, with strangers.

  Arden’s calm voice broke the silence. “Drink this,” he said, tossing something small into my hands. I looked down and saw a vial. The liquid inside shimmered faintly in the firelight. “It’ll help with your strength.”

  I stared at the vial, unsure. But something about his voice made me trust him—just enough to uncork it and drink. The liquid was warm, sliding down my throat. Almost immediately, I felt lighter, though it didn’t fix everything. It didn’t take away the ache in my chest, but at least I felt like I could breathe again.

  “Thank you,” I whispered, the words coming a little easier this time.

  Arden gave a small, dismissive wave of his hand. “It’s nothing,” he said. “We were looking for a high-level dungeon nearby when we found your village. We didn’t get there in time to help, but... we’re here now.”

  I couldn’t process the idea of a dungeon right now. The words felt so distant, but his tone made it clear that he wasn’t lying. It wasn’t like he was enjoying my pain. He was just... here.

  Before I could respond, something shifted in the air. A sound rustled in the distance. Arden instantly went on alert, his posture changing as he scanned the surrounding darkness.

  “We’re surrounded,” he said, his voice steady and calm.

  My heart jumped in my chest, and I turned to look around, but the night swallowed the sounds and the shadows. I couldn’t see anything.

  Fear wrapped around my chest like a vice as I scanned the trees, my breath quickening. The night felt alive, full of hidden threats. Every rustle, every snap of a twig, made me jump. I hated it—I hated being out here, surrounded by things I couldn’t see.

  Arden, though, didn’t seem worried. He stood relaxed, his dark clothes blending into the shadows around him, as if he were one with the night itself. His arms stretched out in front of him, and with a flick of his fingers, several glowing magic circles appeared in the air. Their symbols spun in eerie harmony, and the air around us felt thick, charged with power. He murmured a few words—barely more than a whisper—and the atmosphere seemed to vibrate with the force of his magic.

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  From the darkness, figures emerged—bandits, I realized, though these weren’t the usual ones. They moved with deadly precision, too coordinated to be just ordinary criminals. Their blades gleamed in the moonlight, and crossbows were trained on us.

  Arden didn’t flinch. He simply exhaled and whispered, “Get ready.”

  Then, everything went still.

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  Fear clenched my chest as I scanned my surroundings, my breath uneven. The dense trees loomed over us like silent watchers, their twisted branches shifting in the flickering moonlight. The night was alive with sounds—distant howls, rustling leaves, the occasional snap of a twig beneath unseen footsteps. Every noise made me flinch. I hated this—I hated being out in the open, surrounded by threats I couldn’t see.

  Arden, however, stood completely at ease, as if none of it mattered. His all-black attire blended into the shadows, making him seem like a part of the night itself. His arms stretched out in front of him, and with a flick of his fingers, several magic circles materialized in the air. Their glowing symbols spun in eerie synchronization, pulsing with an unseen power. He murmured a few words—barely more than a whisper—and the air around us shifted, charged with magic so dense I could almost taste it.

  The bandits emerged from the darkness—shapes slipping between the trees, creeping through the underbrush, moving with a trained precision that sent ice down my spine. These weren’t common highwaymen. They were too well-equipped, too coordinated. Blades glinted in the moonlight. Crossbows were raised, their bolts trained on us. They knew who they were up against. And still, they attacked.

  Arden didn’t hesitate. A translucent barrier formed around me and Sora, shimmering faintly as it settled into place. Then, crimson light erupted from his spell circles—dozens of burning projectiles twisting unnaturally through the air like sentient flames. They streaked toward the bandits, hitting their marks with pinpoint accuracy. The moment they made contact, the magic detonated—not with fire, but with sheer force. The explosions sent bodies flying, knocking some into trees, others into the dirt, where they lay motionless.

  More emerged from the darkness, their footsteps louder now as they rushed to close in from all directions. They were faster, more desperate, but Arden was prepared. The bandits didn’t even reach the barrier. From his outstretched hands, a wave of shadowy tendrils shot forward, weaving through the night like serpents. The tendrils struck with brutal force, wrapping around their targets, lifting them into the air, and hurling them into trees or against the forest floor. Those who survived the impact struggled to get back on their feet, but it was futile. Arden’s magic was relentless.

  Suddenly, I heard a sickening, wet sound, followed by a series of screams. I turned to see Sora. Her hand had morphed into something inhuman, something gelatinous, shifting unnaturally in the dim light. A long, translucent appendage—blue and slimy—shot out like a spear, impaling several bandits mid-charge. Her grotesque appendage twisted, pulling the impaled bodies closer as if to inspect her catch before violently flinging them aside. My stomach twisted at the brutal, raw violence.

  I wanted to ask. I wanted to understand. But I had no time. Another impact struck our barrier, a force that made me flinch as it rattled the shield. The magic around us hummed with increasing intensity, but Arden’s concentration never wavered. He was calm, detached, as if these were just obstacles in his path—nothing more, nothing less. His sword flicked through the air like a blur of black steel, cutting through anything that dared approach.

  Then, a deep, resonating sound rang through the forest. A low, metallic hum that sent a shiver down my spine. The birds, startled by the sound, erupted from the trees, their wings beating frantically against the night sky.

  A knight emerged.

  Clad in thick, heavy armor, his presence seemed to suck the warmth out of the air, making the forest feel colder, heavier. He carried himself with an almost regal authority. The surviving bandits halted, their movements frozen in place, as if suddenly aware that they were no longer the most dangerous thing in the woods. No one spoke. No one moved.

  The knight’s helmet tilted slightly, his gaze locking onto Arden. Even through the layers of steel, I could feel it—the sharp focus, the unshakable confidence that radiated from him.

  “I’ve waited for this,” the knight said, his voice thick with anticipation. “To face you—the man they speak of in hushed whispers. The one who walks through battlefields unscathed.”

  Arden didn’t react. He stood there, quiet, unreadable, adjusting his sunglasses with a flick of his fingers. But there was something else in the air now. A tension, thick and palpable. Was he… cautious? I could sense it. His usual indifference had faltered, if only for a moment.

  The knight continued, his voice eager, almost feverish. He spoke of his journey, his reasons for joining the dark organization that had sent him here. He had trained for years, bled for the chance to prove himself in this moment. His words spilled into the night like a rant, his excitement palpable, but Arden remained silent, almost disinterested, as though none of it mattered.

  Finally, the knight raised his sword, its massive blade gleaming in the pale moonlight. “Enough talk. Fight me!”

  With a mighty step, the knight lunged forward, his massive blade cutting through the air in a powerful arc, aimed straight at Arden’s chest.

  Arden moved only his hands. One pushed his sunglasses up his nose, while the other summoned a sword—dark and ominous, its surface gleaming with an unnatural sheen. With a casual flick, he parried the knight’s strike, sending the sword’s momentum off course. The force of the impact reverberated through the air, but Arden barely flinched.

  The knight pressed on. His strikes came fast and furious, each swing a brutal, calculated assault. The ground trembled beneath the weight of his blows, and yet Arden didn’t so much as break a sweat. He dodged, shifted, and countered with effortless precision. Each movement seemed almost languid, as if the fight were a game to him, a game he’d already won before it had even started.

  The knight’s frustration grew with every failed strike, but his attacks never slowed. He put everything into each swing—his blade moving with such speed that it seemed to tear through the air itself. But Arden was always one step ahead, his sword an extension of his will, a perfect counter to the knight’s fury.

  Then, for a brief moment, Arden stopped. He let an opening appear. A small one, but an opening nonetheless. The knight saw it. With a roar of triumph, he swung downward, his blade aimed to cleave Arden in two with all his strength.

  But Arden’s response was swift, almost casual. His sword moved in a smooth arc, effortlessly meeting the knight’s weapon with a precision that defied belief. There was no struggle, no contest. The knight’s massive sword flew from his grip, spinning high into the air. The knight, in that split second of vulnerability, realized his mistake.

  A heartbeat later, Arden’s sword cut through the air like a whisper, and the knight’s body was cleaved in two. The sound of steel meeting flesh, of life being snuffed out in an instant, was the only sound left in the forest. His massive frame crumpled to the ground in absolute silence, his once imposing figure reduced to nothing more than a lifeless heap of armor and blood.

  The forest stilled, the night holding its breath.

  Arden muttered something under his breath, his voice barely more than a whisper. The remaining bandits, witnessing their leader’s effortless demise, turned and fled without hesitation. They vanished into the darkness of the trees, their confidence shattered in an instant.

  I barely noticed them go. My heart hammered in my chest, my mind a whirl of emotions. My eyes remained fixed on Arden, his sword still gleaming in the moonlight. The way he had dispatched that knight with such ease—it left me breathless. Amazed. Overwhelmed.

  Who was this man? And why did it feel like I had just witnessed the fall of something ancient, something greater than any of us could ever understand?