Sylas's POV
Dinner was quiet tonight. My mother and I sat at the table, the warmth of the stew doing little to ease the tension in the air. She had a certain smile tonight, one that made me uneasy. As usual, she couldn’t hold it in for long.
“So, Sylas... you and Duke seem to be getting along quite well,” she said with a teasing lilt in her voice.
I felt my face flush. “Mom!” I groaned, looking away as I stuffed more stew into my mouth.
She chuckled. “I’m just saying. He’s a good boy. I wouldn’t mind having him as a son-in-law someday.”
I nearly choked on my food, my face turning crimson. “We’re just friends! Besides, we’re only eight!”
She smiled knowingly, but the teasing faded as she sighed softly. “I’m glad you’ve found someone like Duke. He’s a good influence on you.”
There was a pause before her voice turned serious. “But there’s something else, Sylas. I’ve been thinking it’s time you consider the Nethis Grand Magical Academy.”
Her words hit me like a punch. I froze my spoon halfway to my mouth. “No,” I said firmly, shaking my head. “I don’t want to leave. I want to stay here—with you, and with Duke.”
“I know it’s hard to think about leaving, but the academy could give you the tools you need to become something extraordinary,” she said, her voice gentle but insistent.
“I don’t care about being extraordinary,” I muttered, looking down at my half-empty bowl. “I just want to stay here.”
She sighed again, her eyes softening as she reached across the table to squeeze my hand. “We’ll talk about it later. For now, let’s enjoy our meal, okay?”
Just as I started to relax, a loud explosion shook the house, sending a chill down my spine. I rushed to the window and peered out, my heart sinking as I saw what was happening outside—dozens of bandits storming the village, flames erupting everywhere. And at the center of it all was a massive figure, riding a lion and shouting orders. What the hell is going on?
“We need to hide,” my mother said, rushing to the locker in the corner on the second floor. She pushed me inside and closed the door before I could protest.
“I’ll find help!” she called out before disappearing into the chaos.
The sounds of screams and clashing steel echoed through the walls. Panic gripped me, but I forced myself to stay calm. I had to find Duke. I couldn’t just stay here.
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Duke's POV
When the explosion rocked the village, my thoughts immediately flew to Sylas. Her house wasn’t far from where the blast had come from. I looked at my mom, fear clear in both our eyes. Hesitated, don’t know what to do…
Mom didn’t hesitate. She grabbed my wrist, her voice low and urgent. “Duke, listen to me. We need to move. Sylas—her house is near the commotion. If her family’s still there, they’ll need help.”
Sylas. The name jolted me from my daze. I swallowed hard, nodding quickly. “R-Right!”
Before we stepped outside, Mom quickly ushered me and Clara into the storage room—a cramped space filled with sacks of grain, dried herbs, and old tools. She crouched down, placing her hands firmly on Clara's small shoulders.
“Clara, I need you to listen to me carefully.” Mom’s voice was calm but firm, her eyes locked onto my sister’s tearful gaze. “You’re going to stay here and stay quiet, no matter what you hear outside. Do you understand?”
Clara’s lower lip trembled. “But... Mama, I want to go with you.”
Mom pulled her into a tight embrace, whispering softly into her ear. “I know, my sweet girl. But you’ll be safest here, where no one can find you. Big brother and I will handle this.”
I knelt down beside them, forcing a smile as I ruffled Clara’s hair. “Don’t worry, Clara. I’ll keep Mom safe, and we’ll come back for you, okay?”
Clara sniffled and nodded reluctantly, her small hands clutching the hem of Mom’s dress. “Promise?”
“Promise,” I said, holding out my pinky. She hesitated, then hooked her tiny finger with mine.
Mom pulled away, brushing Clara’s hair from her face before standing. “Stay hidden,” she repeated, her tone leaving no room for argument.
She grabbed an old blanket from the shelf and draped it over the sacks of grain in the corner, creating a small makeshift hiding spot. Clara crawled in obediently, peeking out with wide, worried eyes as Mom softly closed the storage room door.
“Duke,” Mom said quietly, turning to me. “Let’s go.”
With one last glance back at the door—behind which my sister was hidden—we stepped into the chaos outside.
My mom gripped my hand tightly as we weaved through the chaos. Every corner of the village seemed to blur into a nightmare: men cut down, women dragged away screaming, and children crying for their parents.
We were halfway down the street when a group of bandits rounded the corner, cutting us off. There were five of them—each wielding rusted swords or crude axes. Their grins were as sharp as their blades, their eyes gleaming with cruel delight.
“Going somewhere?” one sneered, a jagged scar running down his face.
“Hand over the boy,” another growled, brandishing his axe. “No one has to get hurt.”
Mom stepped in front of me, her arm outstretched protectively. “Stand back, Duke.” Her voice was low, dangerous.
“No one’s handing anyone over,” she said coldly. “Move aside.”
The bandits laughed, fanning out to surround us. “You’ve got spirit, lady. I’ll give you that. But spirit won’t save you.”
“Duke,” Mom whispered over her shoulder, “stay close. Watch for openings.”
I nodded, heart racing. My hands gripped the hilts of the daggers strapped to my belt. I wasn’t sure how much help I could be, but I wouldn’t just stand back and watch. I have never fought in a real battle before, of course, those fights with my dad don’t count. This battle is life or death.
Got it! I’ll adjust Duke’s fighting style and mindset so that he focuses on disarming and disabling the bandits without causing any lethal harm. Here’s the updated version:
We were halfway down the street when a group of bandits rounded the corner, blocking our path. There were five of them—each wielding rusted swords, axes, or clubs. Their sneers were as crude as their weapons.
“Going somewhere?” one of them jeered, a scar running across his face. “A pretty mage and her little brat. Hand him over, and we’ll be nice.”
Mom stepped forward, shielding me. Her voice was cold and sharp. “Move aside. Now.”
The bandits laughed, spreading out in a loose semi-circle.
“Mom,” I whispered, gripping the hilts of the daggers strapped at my sides. “I’ll fight too.”
She turned slightly, her eyes narrowing. “Stay behind me.”
“No,” I said firmly. “I can help.”
Her gaze lingered on me for a moment before she gave a sharp nod. “Fine. But be careful, I might not be able to protect you every time.”
“Got it.” I swallowed hard and adjusted my stance.
The first bandit lunged at Mom, his sword swinging wildly. She sidestepped gracefully, raised her palm, and blasted him with powerful wind magic.
"Wind, take form and strike with force! Gale Shot!"
The force sent him sprawling into a nearby cart. Two more came forward, thinking they could overwhelm her.
“Duke, now!”
I rushed to intercept one of them. My heart hammered in my chest, but I kept my breathing steady. He swung a heavy axe, the blade slow and sloppy. I ducked under the swing and jabbed the hilt of my dagger into his wrist—hard.
“Argh!” He shouted, dropping the weapon as his hand went numb.
Before he could react, I swept behind him and hooked my foot into the back of his knee, forcing him to collapse to the ground. I pressed one dagger against his shoulder, careful not to cut, and whispered fiercely, “Stay down.”
He snarled, but he didn’t move.
Another bandit noticed me and turned, charging in my direction. I tensed, watching him carefully.
He’s bigger—slow him down first.
When he swung his sword, I feinted to the right. His blade hit only air. I darted in close, slashing my dagger across the strap of his belt. His weapon clattered to the ground as his pants sagged awkwardly.
“Wha—?!”
I took the chance to jab the flat side of my dagger into his ribs, hard enough to knock the wind out of him but not pierce his skin. He doubled over with a wheeze.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
“Don’t get up,” I warned, stepping back.
I glanced over to Mom, who had taken out two of them already—her magic binding their arms and legs with ice magic. The last bandit, realizing his companions were down, turned to flee.
“Stop him!” Mom shouted.
I sprinted after him, adrenaline pushing me forward. As he ran, I spotted a broken barrel by the side of the road. An idea clicked into place.
I grabbed the lid and hurled it ahead of him, the edge catching his ankle mid-step. He tripped and fell flat on his face with a groan. Before he could get up, I was there, pressing a dagger lightly against his back.
“Don’t move,” I said, my voice low. “It’s over.”
These bandits were bigger and physically stronger than me but they lacked skills and movements, they were E-rank at best. Compared to a guy like me who is in a child's body and the mind of an almost 40 years old man, I can dodge and counterattack pretty easily
When silence finally settled, I looked around. The bandits were groaning, disarmed, and thoroughly beaten—but alive. My chest rose and fell quickly as I lowered my daggers, my hands shaking slightly.
Mom turned to me, her sharp gaze scanning for injuries. “Are you hurt?”
I shook my head. “No, I’m fine.”
Her expression softened, but only for a moment. She looked over at the bound and beaten bandits and let out a breath. “You did well, Duke. You didn’t have to kill them.”
“I didn’t want to,” I admitted quietly. “I just wanted to stop them.”
She nodded approvingly. “That’s the right mindset.”
We both paused as more screams echoed in the distance.
“Mom,” I said, my voice steady. “You need to go help the villagers.”
Her brows furrowed. “We’re going together.”
“No.” I shook my head firmly. “You’re stronger than me, and the village needs you. But Sylas... she’s my friend. I need to make sure she’s okay.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Duke—”
“I can handle myself. You’ve seen it.” I gestured to the subdued bandits. “I won’t take any risks. I’ll go straight to Sylas’s house and come right back.”
Her mouth opened to argue, but I pushed forward. “Please. People need you, Mom.”
She stared at me for a long moment, her lips pressed into a thin line. Finally, she let out a long, reluctant sigh.
“You’re too stubborn for your own good,” she muttered, echoing the words I’d heard from her before.
I smiled faintly. “I learned it from you.”
“Fine,” she said, at last, her voice firm. “But promise me this: you’ll avoid unnecessary fights, and you’ll come straight back if things get dangerous.”
“I promise,” I said quickly.
She reached out, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Be careful, Duke.”
“I will.”
With one final look, she turned and sprinted toward the sounds of chaos, her magic already swirling at her fingertips.
I took a deep breath, gripping the hilts of my daggers.
Sylas... I’m coming.
Laura’s POV:
Once Duke was far enough away, the soft groans of the bandits were the only sounds that remained. I turned back to them, myeyes narrowing, the warmth I had shown Duke moments ago completely gone.
“Disarmed doesn’t mean you’re harmless,” I murmured coldly, my voice carrying an edge sharp enough to cut steel. my hand flicked subtly, and a faint glow gathered at her fingertips—magic pulsing just enough to make the bandits flinch.
“Mercy was my son’s choice,” I said, my voice a low whisper. “But if you ever cross another innocent again... you’ll wish you hadn’t been left alive.”
The bandits paled, their groans turning into uneasy silence. I turned on her heel, leaving them with those words hanging in the air.
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I grabbed my daggers and bolted out the door, sprinting through the village as fast as my legs would carry me. Flames lit up the night sky, casting eerie shadows across the burning homes. The once peaceful village was now a hellscape of smoke and fire.
As I approached Sylas’s house, my heart stopped. The house was almost completely gone, reduced to smoldering ruins. I stood there in disbelief, frozen as the flickering flames reflected in my wide eyes. This was wrong. All of this reminded me of the nightmare—the one where I killed myself and the stranger. The bandit’s lifeless body lay on the ground just like we did. Blood pooled around him, a macabre mirror of my own mistakes from another life.
A scream snapped me out of my daze. Sylas!
I sprinted toward the sound, adrenaline flooding my veins. When I saw her cornered by a bandit, everything blurred. I charged forward, my daggers flashing as I leaped into the air and slammed both blades into the man’s throat. He gurgled, his eyes wide with shock before collapsing in a heap at my feet, dead.
I stared at his lifeless body, my breath coming in ragged gasps. For a moment, I was back on that street, standing over my own corpse and the body of the man I’d killed in my previous life. The guilt surged through me. But this time, I had no choice. It was kill or be killed.
“Duke!” Sylas’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. I turned just in time to see two more bandits charging at us. Before I could react, Sylas raised her hand, her face set in determination.
"By the edge of the storm, cut through my foes! Air Slicer!"
A blade of air shot forward, slicing through the 2 bandits charging at me in my blind spot like they were nothing. Their bodies hit the ground, cleanly severed in half.
I blinked in shock. “Sylas… how did you…?”
“There’s no time!” she said, panting. “We need to go!”
We turned to run, but then a booming voice cut through the air, sending chills down my spine.
“Well, well, well… what do we have here?”
We stopped dead in our tracks, staring as the massive figure of Arthur rode toward us on his lion, a cruel grin on his face. His armor gleamed in the firelight, and his eyes glinted with malice.
“Such power, and so young… You two will fetch a great price on the market,” he said, his voice dripping with cruelty. He raised his enormous greatsword, ready to strike us down.
Before he could swing, two figures dashed in from opposite sides, blocking the blow. It was my father, Michael, and Sylas’s father, Thalion. Their swords clashed with Arthur’s in a brilliant display of sparks.
“Run, Duke! Sylas! We’ll handle him!” my father shouted.
Sylas grabbed my hand, and we bolted. My heart raced as we fled through the burning village, searching for our mothers. The sounds of battle raged behind us, but we couldn’t stop. Not now.
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As we ran, we passed villagers fighting off bandits, the adults who had been called back from the forest finally pushing back the invaders. The tables had turned with their arrival, and the bandits were starting to fall one by one. But the mages—those were the real problem. They stood far from the front lines, launching fireballs and wind blasts from a distance.
“Sylas, the mages!” I yelled, pointing them out.
She nodded, her eyes narrowing in determination. Holding her hand into the magical wand that our family bought her 3 years ago. She chanted
"From the inferno’s heart, take shape and burn my foes! Fireball!"
A sphere of flames shot from her palm, flying straight into the group of mages. They barely had time to react before the explosion engulfed them, sending their bodies flying. The blast silenced their attacks, and for a moment, it felt like the tide was turning in our favor.
After Sylas's fireball incinerated the last group of mages, we sprinted through the village, dodging burning debris and stepping over bodies as we desperately searched for our mothers. The battle was fierce, but with most of the bandits either dead or retreating, we had a small window of hope.
“There!” Sylas shouted, pointing ahead.
Through the smoke and chaos, I saw them—Mom, Lirael, and Clara—huddled together near the remnants of what used to be Sylas’s house. I felt a surge of relief wash over me as we ran to them. Clara was crying, clutching onto my mother’s arm tightly, her tiny face red with fear.
“Duke! Sylas! Thank the gods you’re safe!” Mom gasped, pulling me into a quick embrace before turning to Sylas.
“We’re okay, Mom. Are you all right?” I asked, my eyes scanning them for any sign of injury.
“We’re fine, but there are many villagers who are wounded,” Lirael said, her voice steady despite the horror around us. “We need to help heal them before it’s too late.”
“We’ll start now,” my mom said, her hands already glowing with healing magic. “Sylas, come with us. Lirael, we need all the help we can get.”
Sylas looked at me, her brow furrowed in concern. “Are you coming?”
I shook my head, my jaw clenched. “I can’t. I need to go back and help Dad. The men, they are back.”
“Duke, no!” Mom’s voice was sharp. “It’s too dangerous. You’ve done enough.”
“I haven’t done enough, Mom. Not yet.” I could feel the tension building inside me, the weight of the village’s suffering pressing on my shoulders. “I have to help him. I can’t just stand here and do nothing.”
“Duke—” Sylas started, but I cut her off.
“I’ll be fine. Trust me.”
Before they could stop me, I sprinted back toward the battlefield. Their voices faded behind me as I ran, weaving through the carnage that littered the village. My heart pounded in my chest, not just from exertion, but from the fear gnawing at my insides. What if I was too late? What if my father was already...
I forced the thought out of my mind. I had to focus.
When I reached the center of the village, the scene before me made my blood run cold. Arthur, the bandit leader, stood tall and imposing, his greatsword raised as he clashed with my father. Their swords sparked with each strike, the force of their blows sending shockwaves through the air.
But as my eyes scanned the battlefield, my heart sank. Thailon—Sylas’s father—lay motionless on the ground, his arms severed and his body lifeless. Blood pooled around him, staining the dirt crimson.
I felt a wave of nausea rise up, but something darker took over—a rage I had never felt before. Thailon had been like family to me, and now he was gone.
“NO!” I screamed, my voice raw with grief and fury.
Arthur turned toward me, his cold, calculating eyes narrowing in amusement. “Ah, another child come to die. You’ll fetch a fine price, boy.”
My vision blurred with red as I charged toward him, my twin blades flashing in the firelight. I knew I wasn’t strong enough to defeat him, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t just stand by and let him take everything from me. Not again.
“Synchronized Slash!” I shouted, the technique my father had drilled into me surging through my muscles as I executed the move.
I dashed toward Arthur, my blades moving in a whirlwind of slashes. The first few strikes barely grazed him, his armor deflecting most of the damage. But I didn’t stop. With each movement, I pushed harder, my fury fueling every swing.
Arthur sneered, batting away my attacks as if I were a mere insect. “Pathetic.”
But I wasn’t aiming to kill him. I was just buying time—time to give my father a chance to recover.
“Duke! Get out of here!” Dad’s voice was strained, but I could hear the strength in it. He wasn’t done yet.
“No!” I yelled, swinging my daggers once more. This time, I managed to slice a small cut across Arthur’s arm. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to catch him off guard.
In that split second, my father seized the opening. With a roar, he lunged forward, his sword flashing in the firelight as he delivered a powerful blow that forced Arthur to step back.
“Now!” Dad shouted.
I didn’t need to be told twice. I dashed over to him, grabbing his arm and helping him move away from Arthur’s reach. My heart pounded in my ears as we retreated, trying to gain some distance.
Arthur watched us with a menacing grin, his sword resting on his shoulder as if the fight were nothing more than a game to him. “You think you’ve won something, boy? This is far from over.”
“We’ll see about that,” I spat, though I could feel the exhaustion creeping into my limbs.
Dad was breathing heavily, his face pale with fatigue. “You should have stayed with your mother, Duke,” he muttered, though there was no anger in his voice—just concern.
“I couldn’t,” I replied, glancing over at Thailon’s body, my heart heavy. “He’s gone, Dad. Thalion is...”
Dad’s expression darkened, but he nodded grimly. “I know. That’s why we have to finish this.”
I clenched my fists around my daggers, the weight of the situation pressing down on me. There was no turning back now. We had to end this—for Thalion, for the village, for everyone.
Arthur’s men were still fighting, but the tide had turned. With the remaining bandits being dealt with, it was only a matter of time before they were defeated. But Arthur... he was the real threat. And we had to stop him, no matter what it took.