The wooden floor creaked softly beneath Yami's steps as she ascended the staircase.

Her mother's words echoed in her mind: "Go check on Sophia; she's been gone too long. See if Adam's alright."

Yami had always been curious, her mischievous streak often getting the better of her. When she opened Adam's door, the sight before her brought an amused smirk to her lips.

There was Sophia, curled up beside Adam, her arms wrapped around him, her face peaceful in slumber.

"Well, well, Sophia," Yami murmured under her breath, shaking her head. "I always suspected you had feelings for Adam, but this… this is something else."

The faint glow of the lamp cast a warm light on the two, highlighting the contrast between Adam's serene face and Sophia's slightly flushed cheeks.

Yami quietly picked up the dinner tray from the table, careful not to disturb the scene.

Yami has no problem if Sophia and Adam become a couple in the future, in fact Yami will support them for their future.

As she closed the door behind her, she thought to herself, "I'll talk to her tomorrow morning. I need to know where she got this sudden courage. But for now…"

Yami chuckled softly, descending the stairs. "I'll let her enjoy the moment."

The Mansion -

Far away from the peaceful village, a sprawling Japanese-style mansion stood under the pale light of the crescent moon.The air was filled with the soft rustle of leaves, accompanied by the distant sound of wooden swords clashing.

The mansion was surrounded by tall, imposing walls, their surfaces painted with intricate patterns.

Beyond the walls lay a large training ground where young boys and girls practiced swordsmanship under the watchful eyes of stern instructors.

Each student moved with precision, their wooden swords slicing through the air.

Near the edge of the training ground, on a wooden walkway that encircled the mansion, a man clad in traditional black robes walked with purpose.

A long katana hung at his side, its sheath as dark as midnight. His face was weathered, marked by years of discipline and hardship, and his steps were measured, each one deliberate.

He stopped before a sliding door made of thin wooden panels and paper. Bowing slightly, he said, "Lord, I bring news."From within, a calm voice responded, "Enter." Sliding the door open, the man stepped into a room bathed in the soft glow of candlelight.

The floor was covered with tatami mats, and at the center sat a young man dressed in immaculate white robes.

His silver hair gleamed in the dim light, and his piercing blue eyes carried an unsettling calm. A katana rested beside him, its hilt emanating an aura of quiet menace.

The black-robed man knelt before him, bowing deeply. "Lord," he began, his voice steady despite the weight of the news he carried.

The young lord took a sip from the tea cup cradled in his hands, the delicate porcelain a stark contrast to the tension in the room. "Speak," he said, his tone emotionless.

"Lord," the man began, keeping his gaze fixed on the floor, "Mark's crest has been activated. It appears he is dead."

The young lord's expression did not change, his blue eyes narrowing slightly as he set the cup down with a soft clink. "And the mission?"

"It seems it has failed, my lord." Silence hung heavy in the air, the weight of disappointment palpable.

Finally, the young lord spoke, his voice sharp and cutting. "Whether Mark is dead or alive is irrelevant. He was your subordinate, Sinu. If he failed, it is now your responsibility to ensure the mission's success."

Sinu's shoulders stiffened. "But, my lord," he began, his voice laced with hesitation, "how can I attack a village directly? Such an action—"

The young lord's lips curled into a faint, mocking smile.

He lifted the tea cup again, taking another measured sip before interrupting, "I thought someone of your rank might possess a shred of intelligence. But I see now that you are little more than a dog from the branch family."

A vein in Sinu's temple throbbed, but he remained silent, his head bowed. "Forgive me, my lord. I have disappointed you."

The young lord's smile vanished, replaced by a cold, calculating stare. "I do not need your apologies, Sinu. I need results. Complete the mission."

Sinu nodded, his mind racing as he considered his next move. "I will go myself and destroy the village with my own hands," he declared, determination hardening his voice.

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The young lord watched him for a moment before raising a hand. "Wait," he said, his tone sharp.

"If you intend to carry out the mission, do it properly. I will give you a reason, one that will justify the village's destruction and ensure no suspicion falls upon us."

Sinu hesitated, curiosity flickering in his eyes. "What do you mean, my lord?"

The young lord's lips curved into a sinister smile. "Blame Mark's death on someone within the village. Use his murder as a pretext to annihilate them. One by one, eliminate every last soul."

Sinu's eyes widened slightly before a slow smile spread across his face. "An excellent plan, my lord," he said, bowing deeply.But the young lord wasn't finished. "And take others with you. Hunters from the branch family. Ensure you leave no loose ends."

Sinu nodded again, the pieces of the plan falling into place in his mind. Rising to his feet, he bowed once more. "As you command, my lord."

As Sinu left the room, the young lord watched him go, a cold glint in his blue eyes. "You have no idea, Sinu," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, "how your actions will serve my greater purpose. You are just a pawn in my grand scheme."

A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he took another sip of tea, his expression one of quiet triumph.

The first rays of sunlight peeked through the dense forest canopy, casting a golden hue over the quiet wilderness.The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of damp earth and decaying leaves.

A group of twenty-four villagers moved cautiously along a narrow dirt trail, their steps muffled by the thick carpet of fallen leaves.

At the front of the group walked Sam and Komal, the trusted leaders of the hunting party. Their faces, shadowed by the early morning light, carried an air of quiet determination.

Sam's broad shoulders bore the weight of years of leadership.

His rugged appearance—unruly dark hair streaked with silver and a worn leather hunting vest—told of countless battles fought in the wild.

Beside him, Komal's slender frame belied her sharp instincts. Her blonde hair was tied back tightly, and her keen green eyes scanned the forest for any signs of danger.

"The gain has been less this year," Komal said, her voice low but laced with concern. "It feels like the animals are retreating deeper into the forest, as if they're afraid of something."

Sam nodded, his weathered hand brushing against the hilt of the hunting knife at his belt. "I've noticed it too," he admitted. "But I can't figure out what's driving them away."

Their conversation was interrupted by a sharp cry from the front of the group. "Sam! Komal! You need to see this!"Sam broke into a sprint, the leather soles of his boots kicking up dirt as he raced toward the source of the shout.

Komal followed closely, her breaths quick and shallow. As they rounded a bend, the scene before them brought both to an abrupt halt.Scattered across the clearing were bodies—dozens of them.

Dark-clothed figures lay in unnatural positions, their lifeless forms eerily still against the vibrant green of the forest floor.

The metallic tang of blood hung heavy in the air, mingling with the earthy scent of moss and decay.Sam's jaw tightened as he surveyed the carnage. "What in the gods' name happened here?" he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

Komal knelt beside one of the bodies, her hands trembling slightly as she examined the wounds.

Deep punctures marred the chest, while scorch marks seared through the fabric. "They're all dead," she said grimly, standing and wiping her hands on her leather gloves.

The rest of the hunting party gathered around, their faces pale and tense. The crunch of leaves underfoot and the occasional gasp of shock broke the eerie silence.

"What do you think did this?" Sam asked, his voice steady despite the dread creeping into his tone.

Komal shook her head, her eyes narrowing as she studied the corpses. "Not animals. If it were, parts of their bodies would be missing—eaten. This..." she gestured to the scorched clothing, "this was no animal."

Sam ran a hand through his hair, his thoughts racing. "Their clothes... their weapons..." He crouched, picking up a broken dagger from one of the bodies. The craftsmanship was foreign, unlike anything he'd seen before.

Sam exhaled heavily, straightening up. He turned to his team, his commanding presence drawing their attention.

"We can't leave them here. These are people, like us. They have families who deserve closure. We'll bring them back to the village and give them a proper burial."

The villagers exchanged uncertain glances. The idea of carrying so many lifeless bodies back to their home was unsettling.But Sam's unwavering gaze left no room for argument. Slowly, they nodded their agreement.

Komal approached Sam, her steps slow and deliberate. Her hand rested lightly on his arm as she spoke in a hushed tone."This doesn't feel right, Sam. Whatever happened here... it's not over. I can feel it."

Sam placed his calloused hand over hers, a faint smile playing on his lips. "I know you're worried. But we'll figure this out. I promise I won't let anything happen to you or the village."

Komal nodded, though the furrow in her brow remained. One by one, the villagers began lifting the bodies onto their shoulders.

The dead were surprisingly light, their emaciated frames suggesting they'd suffered long before their end. The group moved in solemn silence, the weight of their burden both physical and emotional.

The dirt path leading back to the village felt longer than usual. The forest around them was eerily quiet, save for the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze.

Sam's eyes darted to the shadows, ever alert for any signs of danger. As they emerged from the forest, the first sight of their village brought a collective sigh of relief.

Fields of golden wheat stretched out before them, dotted with the occasional scarecrow.

The morning light bathed the wooden houses in a warm glow, their thatched roofs glistening with dew.

Despite the tranquility of the scene, the sight of the hunting party carrying bodies drew immediate attention.Villagers paused in their morning routines, their faces etched with confusion and concern.

By the time Sam and his group reached the center of the village, a crowd had formed. Mothers with children in tow, elderly men leaning on walking sticks, and farmers with tools still in hand—all gathered to see what had happened.

Whispers rippled through the crowd.

"What's going on?"

"Are those our people?" Someone's ask.

"No, look at their clothes..... They're strangers."

Sam raised his hand, silencing the murmurs. "Everyone, please! I know you have questions, and I'll answer them all. But for now, gather outside my house. I'll explain everything there."

The villagers hesitated before nodding in agreement. Sam's leadership had earned their trust, and they knew better than to doubt him in times of crisis.

As the group moved toward Sam's home, Komal lingered beside him. "Do you think the village is safe, Sam?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Sam glanced at her, his expression unreadable. "I hope so. But whatever happens, we'll face it together." Komal gave a small nod, her resolve hardening.The morning sun climbed higher as the villagers prepared for the meeting, their unease growing with each passing moment.

---

End of the chapter 11.