A Night Where Everything Begins Part-3

While the village was swallowed by chaos, the orphanage became a safe haven. Children and villagers huddled together as Cherry went from group to group, calming frightened faces and steadying trembling hands. Alica and her friends helped her however they could, unaware of the horror raging outside.

All they could do was pray—pray that their hero, Sarah, would return safely and save them like always.

Cherry looked out the window. A sudden chill crept down her spine.

*"I don’t know why… but I feel something happened down there. I want to check, but…"*

She turned to the children. *They need me more right now,* Cherry thought, pushing down her worry.

“Sister Cherry… Sister Cherry!” Alica’s voice broke through her thoughts.

“Huh? Ah, sorry—did you need something, Alica?”

“I said don’t drift off like that! We need you here, Sister Cherry. Don’t worry! Mom is strong—she’ll fix everything soon. And Chris too, he’s with her!” Alica said, forcing a smile to ease her caretaker’s heart.

Cherry exhaled softly. “Yes… you’re right.”

She turned to face the crowd. “Everyone, please remain calm! I know it’s sudden and frightening, but Mother Sarah herself went to deal with the situation. We just have to trust her.”

“That’s right,” an old man said. “If Hero Sarah’s involved, it’ll be over soon.”

“We’re lucky to have the strongest hero protecting us,” a young woman added.

Their words brought temporary comfort. People exchanged nods, holding onto fragile hope.

“It seems like things are finally calming down,” Vennesa said.

“Yeah. With Mother Sarah around, we have nothing to fear,” Dake said with a grin.

But just as relief set in—

The door exploded open with a thunderous blast. Dust and debris scattered through the room as people screamed.

Cherry instinctively grabbed her chained knife, stepping in front of the villagers. Her eyes stung from the dust, but when it cleared, she froze.

Two figures stood framed by the shattered doorway.

The first was a woman about Sarah’s age—cold silver eyes, long black hair, wearing a tight black bodysuit with a flowing blue cloak. A massive crimson scythe rested in her hands.

Beside her stood a towering beastman, fur streaked brown and silver, his chest bare beneath a rough leather jacket.

“Well, well… what do we have here?” the beastman grinned, sharp teeth flashing.

“Who… who are you?” Cherry asked, trying to steady her shaking voice.

“Tch. So Sarah isn’t here,” the beastman clicked his tongue in irritation.

The woman stepped forward gracefully, the scythe glinting ominously. “It seems our little pet caused some trouble for you. We should introduce ourselves… I am Styx of the Deadlands of Reaper. And he”—she gestured lazily—“is Zenjo.”

“Hey! Don’t call me your pet, you wicked witch,” Zenjo growled.

“Why are you attacking our village?” Cherry demanded, summoning every ounce of courage she had.

“Oh? Brave words from such a small bird…” Styx said with amusement. Zenjo smirked and tossed something at Cherry’s feet.

It hit the floor with a dull *thud.*

Cherry glanced down—and gasped. It was an arm. Burned at the wrist.

Recognition stabbed her heart. *Chris… the burn marks…*

Her breath caught. “W-what did you—”

Zenjo interrupted, cleaning his claws with mock boredom. “Oh, that guy? What was his name again… Chris, wasn’t it?”

“CHRIS!!!” Cherry shouted, a tear falling as rage burst through her restraint. She dashed forward, spinning a roundhouse kick toward Zenjo’s head—

—but he caught her leg effortlessly.

“Feisty,” he chuckled, flinging her backward. “I don’t hit women, but…” He suddenly vanished—then reappeared, holding two men trembling in his hands.

*Crunch.*

The sound of skulls cracking silenced the room. Screams erupted.

“Now… who’s next?” Zenjo’s eyes glowed crimson as he grinned.

Cherry rushed forward, but Styx moved between them, her scythe slashing horizontally. Cherry blocked with her chain-knife, the impact sending her flying across the room.

“Sorry, but none of you will leave here alive,” Styx said, her calm tone colder than death.

Cherry stumbled up, blood dripping from her nose. “Alica! Take the children and run! Forget about everyone else—just go!”

“What are you saying—” Alica’s voice trembled.

Styx’s gaze flicked toward the girl. “Zenjo! That one—she’s the target!”

In an instant, Zenjo lunged, but Cherry intercepted him, whipping her chain around his claws. “You’re not going anywhere!” she shouted. But intrupted by Styx

Cherry spun the chain, sending the blade flying with deadly precision. Sparks danced as the knife clashed against Styx’s scythe. The force of each blow cracked the floorboards beneath them.

Cherry darted low, using the chain to pull herself up onto a support beam and launching multiple slashes from above. Styx twirled her scythe, deflecting every strike like a graceful executioner.

The room echoed with metal screeches and shockwaves as villagers ran in panic. Outside, monsters poured through the burning streets, tearing apart homes and dragging villagers into the flames. Alica, Jack, Sabrina, Dake, and Vennesa guided the children through the smoke, slashing at lesser beasts with whatever weapons they could find—broken hoes, knives, even shattered wood.

Screams echoed. The night turned red.

Cherry threw her chain, catching Styx’s arm, pulling hard—but Styx smirked and yanked her forward instead. She spun, kicking Cherry in the stomach before driving the scythe downward. Cherry barely rolled aside as the blade split the ground where she stood.

Panting, Cherry’s grip trembled. “I… won’t… let you touch them!”

Styx tilted her head, her cold smile widening. “And yet… you’re trembling.”

Cherry roared and rushed again, her chain glowing faintly as she infused it with aura. The knife slashed across Styx’s shoulder, drawing a thin line of blood.

“Oh?” Styx hissed, licking the blood from her fingers. “You drew blood. That’s cute.”

Her aura flared crimson. Shadows swirled around her feet.

In one swift motion, she vanished and reappeared behind Cherry.

*Swish.*

Cherry froze. The room fell silent.

Her knife slipped from her hand.

A second later, her body dropped to its knees—her head rolling lifelessly to the floor as blood sprayed across the orphanage wall.

Styx rested her scythe on her shoulder, expression unreadable. “Pathetic. The strong protect nothing but illusions.”

Alica’s scream echoed from outside as the scene melted into chaos once again.