RevenGers

Mom...?

The word didn't leave his lips, but it screamed inside his head, over and over, like it was the only thing left in the world. His legs locked in place, his body trembling as he stared at the unmoving form in the grass. The moonlight made her look almost peaceful, like she was just sleeping. But she wasn't.

She wasn't moving. She wasn't breathing.

His stomach twisted, a sick, churning feeling crawling up his throat. He had just been eating dinner with her. Laughing. His father had been smiling. His sister had been complaining about the story their father told. It had been warm, safe, normal.

Then the world ended.

The Black Tower came. Screams filled the air. Fire swallowed the village. His mother had fallen—he had seen her and his sister disappear into the backyard, but he had to keep moving. His father had been fighting. He had left him there, had run when he was told.

Then… then the man in black had found him.

Sarion's breathing hitched. That man. That monster. His cruel grin, his mocking voice. Making him choose. Choose who to save. He had tried—he had tried so hard—but it didn't matter. The man had killed them anyway.

So many dead.

So much blood.

And now… Mom.

Sarion couldn't feel his fingers anymore. His head was spinning. His sister was still crying. The younger Black Tower man was still smiling at her.

The other one, the older one, was fidgeting with something. A bronze thing. Sarion didn't know what it was. Didn't care.

Because his mother was dead.

His mother was dead.

His mother was dead.

And he had no idea what to do.

The young man clicked his tongue and shook his head as his gaze landed on Sarion. "Man… what a shame."

His voice was casual, almost lazy, like he wasn't standing next to a corpse, like he wasn't looking at a crying child.

"You've only got traces of the One Power," he said, almost pitying. "Barely anything at all. Even less than most people." He let out a small chuckle. "Guess you won't be doing much with that in your life."

Then, his eyes drifted back to Sarion's sister, and his smile widened. "But her… now she's something special." His voice held a note of excitement. "I can't believe how much of the One Power she has. She could probably reach Rank 6. Maybe even higher."

He let out a chuckle. "And the more we have like her at the Black Tower, the better."

The older man still hadn't spoken. His fingers continued to fidget with the bronze object, his face partially hidden in the moonlight's shadow.

Sarion's breath was shaky, his chest tight, his vision blurred—not from tears, but from the heat rising inside him. Fear, confusion, sadness—all of it twisted into something else. Something hotter. Something sharper.

His hands clenched into fists. His mother was gone. His sister was crying. And these people—these monsters—were standing here talking like this was normal.

His voice came out hoarse, but steady. "Where's the Chief of Guards?"

The young man's smile twitched. "Huh?"

"He was supposed to have fallen here too," Sarion said, his voice louder this time.

The young man's expression darkened. His easy grin disappeared, replaced by something colder. He raised his hand.

But before he could do anything, a scream tore through the air.

"Don't you dare touch him!"

Sarion's sister's voice rang out, sharp and filled with fury. Her small frame trembled, but her eyes burned with anger.

The older Black Tower member, who had remained silent all this time, finally raised his head. His fidgeting stopped. His gaze settled on the situation before him.

The older man's fingers brushed against his disheveled beard, his touch slow, thoughtful. Then, he nodded to himself.

The young man turned immediately, his movements sharp at the sudden absence of fidgeting. His expression shifted, irritation replaced by something more cautious. "Something wrong?" he asked.

There was respect in his tone. And fear.

Sarion swallowed. His heart pounded so hard it hurt. This man—whoever he was—he was the real threat. Even the other Black Tower member knew it.

But that didn't matter. None of it did. All he cared about was his sister. He had to save her. Somehow.

But she wasn't close enough. She was too far, standing there frozen, her hands clenched at her sides. Even if she ran, she wouldn't be fast enough.

Sarion bit his lip, his fists trembling at his sides. He wasn't stupid. He had seen how strong Arts Users were. How easily they killed.

If they wanted to, these two could take his sister away in an instant. And he wouldn't be able to do anything about it.

The older man tilted his head slightly, his rough fingers still idly stroking his unkempt beard. His gaze, sharp and unreadable, fixed itself solely on Sarion's sister.

"Is there anything you want?" he asked, his tone calm, almost gentle. "I'll give it to you."

The young man beside him blinked in confusion. "Huh? What are you talking about?"

But the older man didn't acknowledge him. Not even a glance. It was as if he didn't exist. As if, in this moment, there was only the little girl.

Sarion didn't understand either. None of this made sense.

His sister, however, remained silent, her small hands trembling as she stared at their mother's lifeless body. Her anger hadn't faded. If anything, it burned even stronger.

Then, she lifted her hand and pointed.

"Him." Her voice was clear, unwavering. "He killed Mom! He deserves to die!"

She didn't fully understand what death meant. Not really. But she knew it was something bad.

When people died, they were gone forever.

You couldn't talk to them anymore.

You couldn't hold them anymore.

And if that was what villains did to good people—then she wanted the villain gone forever too.

The young man let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "Are you serious? You think you can decide who lives and dies, little girl? That's cute—"

Sarion's stomach twisted. Something was wrong.

The older man gave a small nod.

And then—

Schlk.

The young man's head fell to the ground. His body remained upright for a fraction of a second before crumpling beside it.

Sarion barely registered the movement. A glimmer of something invisible—no, air—had been in the older man's grasp for a mere instant before vanishing. He had moved with impossible speed, using wind Arts to form a blade of air, and in that same moment, the execution was over.

Sarion's sister stared at the fallen body, her small fingers tightening into fists. She didn't know how to feel. She had wanted him gone, but seeing it happen so suddenly, so effortlessly…

Still, she swallowed, looked up at the older man, and said, "Thank you… for listening."

The older man, as calm as ever, inclined his head. Then, after a moment, he spoke again.

"Would you like to come with me?"

Sarion froze.

The man's voice was soft, but the words sent an immediate chill down his spine.

"If you do," the older man continued, "I'll let your brother live."

Sarion's breath caught. No. He had to stop this. He had to say something.

But when he opened his mouth—nothing came out.

His eyes widened.

A shimmering distortion in the air separated him from his sister. A wind barrier.

Arts can do this?! His mind reeled. His voice—completely trapped.

He couldn't call out to her. He couldn't stop this.

Just how strong was this man?

Rank 6? Rank 7?

What is he?!

His legs trembled, and before he knew it, he had taken a step back.

His sister hesitated, staring up at the older man.

She didn't know what to say.

The older man reached into his robe, his fingers brushing against the metallic object once more. This time, he held it up, his eyes shifting toward Sarion.

No—

Not at Sarion.

Behind him.

A sudden gust of wind rushed past his ear. Sarion's instincts screamed—danger!

And then—

The ground vanished beneath him.

Before he could even process what was happening, strong arms wrapped around him, lifting him into the air. The next instant, he was back on solid ground.

His breath came in ragged gasps.

Someone stood beside him—a man, maybe thirty years old, with a sharp gaze. He took a single step forward, positioning himself between Sarion and the older Black Tower member.

Sarion blinked, his mind struggling to catch up.

The older man—he had done something. A wind attack?

And this man—he had moved, grabbed Sarion, and dodged it.

Slowly, Sarion turned his head.

His stomach dropped.

Where he had been standing just moments ago—was nothing but rubble and destruction. A chunk of the ground had been gouged out, debris scattered like an explosion had gone off.

His hands trembled.

If this man hadn't intervened—

He would be—

Sarion's eyes widened as he took in the man's appearance.

Blonde hair. A short beard. Adventuring gear.

Wait—

That description…

He had heard it just a little earlier.

Oh right…

The Shadow Assassin had mentioned a friend. A friend who would come to protect him.

Sarion was supposed to wait for him at the doorstep of their house.

But he hadn't waited.

He had come to the backyard—to find his sister and mother.

His fingers curled into fists. If he had stayed put, maybe things would've been different. Maybe he wouldn't have needed saving.

But then another thought struck him.

The older man… had he really been targeting him?

Or—

Was the attack meant for this friend to begin with?

After all, the older man had no reason to kill him. He was trying to gain his sister's trust.

So why?

Sarion swallowed hard.

What was really happening here?

The older man stroked his disheveled beard and addressed the newcomer.

"Leif the Golden Oath."

Leif grinned, resting a hand on his hip. "Well, now. Didn't expect to hear my name from you."

His sharp eyes studied the older man.

"What's someone like you doing in a random village? You're too high up for grunt work. The Dark Crow wouldn't allow it. He's not dumb enough to risk it. So why are you here?"

Silence.

The older man merely smiled. He didn't answer.

Leif's grin faded slightly, and his gaze drifted—falling on Sarion's sister.

His expression shifted.

"Ah… I see."

He exhaled.

"It's her you want, isn't it?"

Sarion's heart stopped for a second.

They came here for his sister?

Why her?

What did they want with her?

Then, a memory clicked into place—the young man from earlier.

"She's blessed."

"She could reach Rank 6 or more."

Sarion felt his breath hitch.

He was young, but he wasn't stupid.

They weren't just here.

They were trying to recruit his sister into the Black Tower.

Even if it meant kidnapping her.

Even if it meant making sure her family was dead.

Sarion's stomach twisted.

Leif clicked his tongue in frustration, looking around at the lifeless bodies scattered across the village.

"Do you have to kill so many every damn time?"

No answer.

The older man simply stroked his beard. Then, his eyes narrowed.

"Is the Shadow Assassin here too?"

Leif crossed his arms. "So what if he is?"

A small smile formed on the older man's lips.

"Then I can't stay."

Wind gathered.

Sarion barely had time to react before the attack was launched—not at Leif, but at him.

His breath caught in his throat.

The world blurred—air slashing toward him—

Then, clang!

Leif was there, intercepting it.

Sarion gasped, his small body trembling from the sheer force of the wind pressure.

And in that split second—he saw it.

The older man had already reached his sister.

His hand grasped the bronze object—fidgeting with it one final time.

A golden portal burst open, swallowing them both.

And then... They were gone.

Just like that.

In an instant.

Sarion's legs gave out.

He fell to his knees, his breath shallow.

Gone.

His sister was gone.

His mind screamed at him to move, to chase after her, to do something, but his body wouldn't listen. His heart pounded in his chest, his vision blurred—not from tears, but from sheer disbelief.

Leif clicked his tongue again, his fists clenching.

"Damn it."

The golden portal had already faded, leaving behind nothing but silence and the lingering scent of wind Arts.

Sarion's fingers dug into the dirt. His body trembled—not just from exhaustion, but from the sheer helplessness flooding his entire being.

His sister had been right there. Just a few steps away.

And he couldn't do a single thing.

Leif exhaled sharply, rubbing his face. He crouched next to Sarion, placing a firm hand on the boy's shoulder.

"Kid," he said, his voice steady despite the chaos around them. "I know it hurts, but we have to move. If they came for your sister, they might've sent others too."

Move?

Go where?

Sarion's gaze drifted to his mother's body. To the burned homes. To the lifeless faces of people he had known his entire life.

What was left to run to?

Sarion's breathing grew shallow. His head felt light, his vision darkening at the edges.

Too much.

Everything that had happened—it played over and over in his mind, refusing to stop.

Dinner with his family.

The Black Tower's attack.

His mother's fall.

His father staying behind.

That young man, making him choose who would live and who would die—only to kill them both.

The Shadow Assassin appearing.

His mother's corpse.

His sister's scream.

The old man's words.

The golden portal swallowing her whole.

He couldn't stop it.

He hadn't saved her.

He wasn't strong enough.

His thoughts spiraled, consuming him, crushing him beneath their weight. His limbs were heavy, his body swayed—

"Hey, kid—"

Leif's voice barely registered before Sarion collapsed.

Leif caught him with ease, holding him up as he sighed. He looked down at the unconscious boy, his grip tightening.

He didn't know what to say. What could he say?

"Damn it," he muttered under his breath.

They had to go.

That was all there was to it.

Without another word, he adjusted his hold on Sarion and leaped into the air.

—End of Chapter.