The two samurai, swords gleaming in their right hands, began to pick up speed as they closed the distance toward the villagers. Their footsteps thundered on the ground, the rhythm quickening with every second. The tension among the villagers was palpable.

Women pulled their children closer, shielding them with trembling arms, while the men stepped forward to form a protective line, clutching their weapons as if their lives depended on it.

A toddler dropped his wooden toy, but his mother didn’t notice. She was too busy shielding him with her body

The two samurai charged ahead, their determination clear, and fear gripped everyone.

The samurai were halfway to the villagers when an unexpected sound pierced the air. It was sharp, slicing through the tense atmosphere like a blade through cloth.

The sound was like a whip cracking, sharp and sudden, making a few villagers flinch.

The noise was unfamiliar to most of the villagers, who were too focused on the advancing samurai to pay much attention.

But Robin heard it too. His ears perked up, and his eyes narrowed as he tilted his head slightly.

His hand twitched toward his sword, but he didn’t draw it. His eyes narrowed, scanning the sky.

Unlike the others, he recognized the sound. His expression shifted subtly—surprise flickering in his cold demeanor. Slowly, he turned his head in the direction of the noise.

High above, a streak of blue light tore through the sky, descending rapidly toward the ground. It was a slash—an arc of pure energy, blazing with an intensity that made it impossible to track with the naked eye.

The light left a faint trail, like a comet, before vanishing into the ground.

The villagers could only watch in stunned confusion as the streak hurtled toward the two samurai.

A child pointed at the sky, his mouth open in awe, but his mother pulled his hand down, her face pale.

The arc reached its target in an instant. The two samurai didn’t even have time to react as the energy passed cleanly through their necks.

Its speed was so great, its strike so precise, that neither of them realized what had happened. They continued running for a moment, their bodies propelled forward by momentum.

Then their heads fell.

The severed heads hit the ground with a sickening thud, followed by their lifeless bodies collapsing moments later.

The heads rolled a few feet before stopping, their eyes still wide with shock.

Blood erupted from the stumps of their necks, pooling rapidly around the fallen forms.

The blood spread quickly, staining the dry earth a dark, glistening red. The energy slash didn’t stop there—it carved a deep gash into the earth, the raw power evident in the clean cut it left behind.

The villagers gasped in unison, the silence that followed heavy with shock and disbelief.

An old woman covered her mouth with her shawl, her eyes wide with horror. No one could comprehend what they had just witnessed. Whispers of confusion rippled through the crowd.

Robin stood frozen, his expression darkening as he processed the scene.

His jaw tightened, and his fingers curled into fists, but he didn’t move. His gaze darted to the direction the energy slash had come from. 'Who could it be?' he wondered, his mind racing.

As he looked up, his sharp eyes caught sight of a figure descending from the sky. The man’s body was completely shrouded in black, a cloak flowing around him like liquid shadow.

The fabric shimmered faintly, catching the sunlight in a way that made it seem alive. The fabric wrapped tightly around his neck and shoulders, its ends fluttering as he fell.

The figure was inverted, his head pointed toward the ground while his feet reached toward the heavens.

The air around him seemed to hum faintly, as if charged with energy.

The wind whipped his cloak around him, making him look like a shadow come to life. His descent was deliberate, almost theatrical, as if he were a predator preparing to strike.

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The villagers stared in stunned silence, the figure’s presence casting an aura of mystery and awe.

Even the children were quiet, their wide eyes fixed on the descending figure.

Ricky’s breath hitched as his eyes locked onto the descending figure.

His shoulders sagged slightly, as if a weight had been lifted, but his grip on his weapon didn’t loosen completely. His expression softened, his hands loosening on the weapon he had been clutching. His lips parted, and a single word escaped his mouth, carried by equal parts relief and disbelief:

A few villagers exchanged hopeful glances, their fear momentarily replaced by awe.

“Adam.”

Adam, still descending from the sky, was just moments away from hitting the ground.

The wind howled around him, making his cloak ripple like waves.

Then, with a sudden twist, his body spun mid-air. His head, which had been pointed toward the ground, now shifted upward, allowing him to land feet-first. The black cloak wrapped around his frame fluttered in the wind as he straightened his posture.

He landed precisely where the two samurai lay dead, their severed heads and blood pooling beneath their lifeless bodies.

As Adam stood tall, the villagers finally caught sight of him in full detail. The cloak that had concealed him was now pushed aside by the wind, revealing his new form.

He had grown significantly, now towering at six feet tall.

His shoulders were broader, his stance more confident. Even his shadow seemed larger, stretching across the blood-stained ground.

His once-boyish features had hardened, replaced by a sharp, mature look. His jawline was chiseled, his cheekbones prominent, and his eyes carried a steely determination that seemed to pierce through anyone who dared meet his gaze.

His hair, now shoulder-length, was tied neatly at the back, adding to his commanding presence.

A few strands escaped the tie, framing his face and giving him a rugged, battle-worn look.

Adam’s muscular frame was clearly visible beneath the black outfit he wore. The sleeveless design highlighted his toned arms, and the tailored pants accentuated his agile build.

A belt encircled his waist, from which hung a sleek black sword.

The sword’s hilt gleamed faintly, its surface etched with intricate patterns that seemed to shimmer in the sunlight.

Numerous pouches and pockets, reminiscent of a ninja’s utility belt, adorned his sides, hinting at hidden tools or weapons.

The villagers stared in stunned silence.

A child tugged at his mother’s sleeve, whispering, “Is that really Adam?” She shushed him, her eyes wide with disbelief. Many couldn’t recognize him at first.

The Adam they remembered was a carefree, playful child who roamed the village with boundless energy. This man before them was unrecognizable—taller, stronger, and far more intimidating than the boy they once knew.

Rachel, Adam’s mother, stepped forward instinctively, her maternal instincts overpowering her caution.

Her hands trembled as she reached out, as if to touch him, but Ricky’s grip stopped her.

A tear rolled down her cheek. Tears brimmed in her eyes, but before she could take another step, Ricky, her husband, gently but firmly held her back.

“Let me go, Ricky,” Rachel pleaded, her voice trembling with emotion.

Ricky shook his head, his expression tense. “Not now, Rachel. We shouldn’t interfere.”

His grip on Rachel’s arm tightened, his knuckles whitening. He didn’t want to let her go, but he knew he had to.

Rachel looked at him, her frustration evident, but Ricky gestured toward Adam. “He’s not the same boy anymore. Let him handle this. We can’t interrupt.”

Hearing this, Eric, who stood nearby, added, “Mom, Father right. Let Adam focus. If we interfere now, we’ll only make things harder for him.”

Rachel, though still emotional, held herself back. Her lips quivered as she whispered Adam’s name softly, her voice laced with love and worry.

Her voice was so quiet, only Ricky could hear it. He squeezed her hand, his own heart heavy.

In the background, someone else was struggling with emotions just as intense—Sophia.

Standing among the crowd, Sophia’s heart raced uncontrollably as her eyes remained fixed on Adam.

She bit her lip so hard it almost bled, her nails digging into her palms. 'Don’t cry, don’t cry,' she repeated in her head.

Over the past two years, she had changed too. Her height had increased, and her figure had matured into that of a young woman.

Dressed in a flowing yellow dress that complemented her golden hair, she looked radiant, yet her trembling hands betrayed her composure.

Sophia’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. She longed to run to Adam, to ask him how he had survived those two years in the wilderness. But as her emotions surged, tears began to well up in her eyes.

She wiped them away quickly, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "Not now, not in front of everyone." She tried to hold them back, biting her lip and clenching her fists, but it was a losing battle.

'No, Sophia. You’re not a crybaby,' she told herself, trying to regain control. 'If you break down now, what will Adam think of you?'

Despite her internal pep talk, her emotions were laid bare for anyone to see, especially her brother George, who stood beside her.

George, noticing Sophia’s state, smiled faintly. Unlike her, he was elated to see Adam again, confident that their friend had returned to save them.

He patted her shoulder gently, his smile warm but tinged with worry. “He’s back, Sophia. It’s going to be okay.”

The villagers shared George’s sentiment. Relief began to spread among them as they realized that Adam had come back to help.

An old man muttered a prayer under his breath, his wrinkled hands clasped tightly together. However, their joy was tinged with lingering fear.

A woman clutched her baby tighter, her eyes darting between Adam and the surrounding samurai.

As much as they trusted Adam’s strength, they knew the odds were against them. The samurai surrounding the village were too many.

Even with Adam’s power, they doubted he could take them all down alone. Their only hope was that Jordan, another powerful ally, might appear. Together, Adam, Jordan, and the villagers might stand a chance against the overwhelming forces.

But for now, the air was heavy with uncertainty. The villagers exchanged nervous glances, their hope flickering like a fragile flame.

A young boy whispered to his friend, “Do you think he can really save us?” His friend shrugged, his face pale.

And with that, the chapter came to an end.