Chapter 8: The First Attack - Part 2

Kian stood alone at the village entrance, his katana blazing in his grip. Before him, nearly a hundred bandits gathered, their jeers echoing through the smoke. A group of ten rushed forward, circling him with tactical precision.

But Kian did not flinch. He held his blade low, fire licking along its edge, waiting.

The bandits closed in.

Kian spun — a full 360‑degree arc.

Fwoosh!

Flames erupted from his blade, sweeping outward in a blazing storm. The fire struck the bandits before their weapons could reach him. Screams filled the air as the inferno cut them down, one by one, until all ten lay defeated in the dirt.

He straightened, his purple eyes glowing, glaring at the remaining bandits. His gaze alone made them falter. Step by step, he advanced, katana blazing at his side. Fear rippled through their ranks.

“What are you looking for?! Shoot him down!” one of them shouted.

Archers raised their bows, arrows drawn tight. They fired directly at Kian, the distance short, the shots deadly.

Kian did not waver. His katana flashed in rapid slashes, parrying arrow after arrow.

Clang! Clang! Tchak!

Sparks flew, shafts splintered. A few cuts marked his face and hands, but he pressed forward, unbroken.

Then — a voice thundered from behind.

“Attack!”

Kian turned. Captain Gerald charged, twin swords in hand — one shimmering with flowing blue water, the other blazing with bright flames. Behind him surged twenty squad members, their battle cries shaking the air.

And among them — his friends.

- Ren stormed ahead, his massive war hammer raised high, muscles straining as the ground trembled beneath his charge. His sleeveless leather tunic and stone‑like plates gleamed in the firelight, his laughter wild and fearless.

- Daichi darted forward, dual swords shimmering with water, his pale green jacket fluttering as he moved with the speed of the wind. His smirk was sharp, his strikes sharper.

- Haruto advanced silently, bow already drawn, his dark tunic blending into the smoke. His arrows flew with deadly precision, each one finding its mark.

- Aisha spun her naginata gracefully, the weapon now adorned with green vines and blossoms that seemed to bloom from its shaft. Her fitted blue tunic and layered fabric flowed with her movements, elegance and power entwined.

Together, they charged into the fray, no longer children, but warriors forged by five years of relentless training.

The bandits snarled, regrouping, their leader stepping forward with a cruel grin.

“You think you can stop us? This village will burn!”

But the five stood firm, Gerald at their side, their weapons gleaming with elemental power.

The First Attack had begun — and the village would not fall without a fight.

Kian’s blazing katana lowered slightly as he turned to his friends.

“Handle the bandits,” he commanded, his voice steady, eyes locked on the enemy leader. “I’ll take him.”

They nodded without hesitation.

Kian surged forward, sprinting through the chaos. Bandits rushed to intercept him, blades flashing in the firelight.

Slash! His katana cut through the first attacker, flames trailing in its wake.

Clang! He parried another strike, twisting past the bandit’s blade.

Fwoosh! A fiery arc swept outward, forcing two more back.

Arrows whistled past — Thwip! Thwip! — but Kian ducked low, rolling forward, his katana slicing upward to cut down another foe.

The heat of the flames mixed with the acrid smoke of burning wood. His lungs burned, his muscles screamed, but his resolve was unshaken. Every step… closer. Every strike… one less obstacle.

Another bandit lunged — Kian sidestepped, his blade flashing in a clean diagonal cut. Shhhrrk! The man fell, his weapon clattering uselessly to the ground.

Kian pressed on, his purple eyes gleaming, unwavering, as he carved a path through the enemy ranks. His mind was clear, his purpose absolute. This ends with him. The leader falls, and the rest will scatter.

Finally, Kian broke through the line.

The bandit leader stood ahead — tall, broad‑shouldered, and muscular, his presence radiating menace. His grin was cruel, mocking, as if he relished the chaos around him. In his hand he held a massive sword, its blade shimmering unnaturally, flowing with water that dripped and hissed as it touched the scorched earth. The weapon seemed alive, pulsing with elemental power, a stark contrast to Kian’s blazing katana.

Kian slowed his pace, katana blazing at his side, fire licking along the steel. His gaze locked on the leader, his voice low but sharp.

“You’re mine.”

The battlefield roared around them, but in that moment, everything narrowed to the duel that was about to begin.