Surprise

Knock knock.

Dawn rapped sharply on Reality's door.

"Reality! It's me, Dawn. Lance has finally made his move—we might need your help."

The door clicked open within seconds. Reality stepped out, her golden eyes gleaming like sunlight through honey, her crimson hair cascading over her shoulders. She carried a light yellow bag, clearly filled to the brim.

"What's in the bag?" Dawn asked.

"Long story short: potions. Ones that might help your men survive the long night ahead," Reality replied. She reached in and tossed him a small glass vial. The liquid inside burned red, the color of fire.

"Drink up. It boosts stamina, sharpens your senses. You’ll be more alert, which means better chances of survival." Without waiting for his response, she turned and began walking briskly toward the watchtower.

"Let’s hurry. I’ve got thirty more of these—we’ll need to get them to your best fighters."

Dawn, surprised by her readiness and assertiveness, followed.

When they reached the tower, the soldiers updated Dawn.

"Sir, Arnold’s squad has already gone after Lance. Sunflower followed."

Fear gripped Dawn.

He stepped forward, preparing to leap after them—

"Wait." Reality’s voice cut through his panic.

He paused, turning to look at the enigmatic mage.

"There’s only one enemy. Why send just a few? We strike together and end this quickly. Retrieve his blood, protect the village."

Dawn hesitated. "We still need some to stay behind, just in case we fall. They can help evacuate the civilians."

"Then let those thirty with potions accompany us."

He nodded. That was reasonable.

Reality smirked. "But first, you should drink yours."

Dawn eyed the potion in his hand warily.

A nearby soldier, already having downed his dose, grinned. "Sir, I feel incredible! My shift just ended, and I was dead tired—but now I feel like I could fight for days."

That convinced the others. In less than a minute, all thirty soldiers had consumed their potions.

Dawn took a breath, then raised the vial to his lips and drank. It was warm and thick, like molten spice.

Reality nodded approvingly. "Let’s prepare to descend."

A platform was rigged as an elevator to lower the men. Some soldiers tried to convince Dawn to stay behind.

"You think I’m some old relic?" he barked. Then, with a defiant roar, he sprinted toward the ledge.

"I’ll show you I’ve still got it!"

And with that, he jumped—plummeting the full 300 meters to the forest floor.

Gasps erupted. Panic spread.

"Don’t worry," Reality said calmly. "Your Chief is stronger than he looks."

She walked to the ledge.

"Once you’re geared up, descend immediately. The Chief and I will be waiting."

Then she, too, jumped.

On the Forest Floor

Reality landed effortlessly, graceful as a feather. Dawn sat on a rock ahead, catching his breath.

"I can't wait for them," he muttered. "Since this was your idea, you go with them. I need to reach Arnold and Sunflower."

As he stood to dash off, his legs buckled. His body turned heavy, his mind clouded. Dizzy, confused—he barely managed to turn.

In the shadows stood Reality, a glowing crimson fireball hovering over her palm. The smirk on her face sent chills down his spine.

Dropping to one knee, Dawn gasped, "Why?"

Reality stepped forward, her expression almost pitying.

"Why? Because I spent years studying magic I had no passion for. Years perfecting potions—not for healing, but for control. Every potion I give can be altered at my will, whether it’s been consumed or not. And all of it... for one goal."

She sat where Dawn had moments before.

"To find Tresia. Hidden away, unreachable. I searched every book, every scroll, to no avail. My only chance? To become famous enough for some desperate fool to seek me out. And lo and behold, a letter from the Chief of Tresia himself."

"Who are you?" Dawn growled.

"I prepared every poison, plotted every demise, but that cursed one moved early. It didn’t matter. This... this will do."

She leaned closer.

Desperate, Dawn launched a punch at her face.

It stopped an inch from her cheek—suspended midair.

He gasped for breath. She hadn't flinched.

"You think I waited years for a surprise punch to end me?"

"Why!?" he cried again.

Reality whispered in his ear. One word.

"Anglaore Vermilion."

The name struck like thunder.

The Witch.

The very name from the sealed report on the Chief’s deathbed. The woman who had once cursed a nation.

"You're her kin..."

Dawn’s eyes widened with sorrow. He wanted to apologize—not out of fear, but remorse. What his people had done... it had been monstrous.

But he had no time.

Flames erupted around him.

He screamed.

No help came.

Within minutes, Dawn was nothing but ash.

Above, the platform had just begun to lower. Thirty men, empowered, hopeful.

Reality snapped her fingers.

Boom.

Every man exploded from within.

The watchtower ignited. Screams followed. Some tried to douse the flames. Others fell into catatonic shock.

She snapped her fingers again.

A crimson fireball appeared, then flew into the forest canopy, setting thirty great trees ablaze.

Tresia was trapped.

Reality adjusted her hair, a wicked smile on her face.

"Burn the village."

Then, she vanished into the darkness.