Adam's eyes fixed on Brand, who stood on the balcony of the two‐story wooden house. The Sun light slanted across the weathered planks of the house and the worn stones below, casting long, distorted shadows.
Brand's face, still pale from the shock of Adam's magical prowess, was partially hidden in the Sun light.
His eyes flickered nervously as he tried to regain his composure after the display of power that had just unsettled him.
In a sudden, bold gesture, Brand raised one hand and declared in a clear, commanding voice, "Grab him—I want that boy alive!"
The command echoed across the courtyard and the narrow streets of the village.
At that very moment, the villagers surrounding Adam—whose eyes glowed a sickly green—began to advance slowly.
Their faces were grim and set, and their mouths opened to emit low, guttural growls that reverberated like a deep rumble under the steady creak of the wooden structures around them.
The sound was unsettling, as if the very ground were vibrating with a dark energy.
A middle-aged villager, his skin weathered by years under the harsh sun and his clothes patched from many winters, suddenly broke from the crowd.
His eyes burned with a mixture of zeal and fear as he charged forward at breakneck speed.
In a display of brutal efficiency, Adam reached the group and without any hesitation, he grabbed the village's head.
With a powerful heave, he hoisted the bandit into the air and then slammed him back onto the ground so forcefully that the impact sent a shock through the man's body.
The sound of his head hitting the hard ground was sickening, and within seconds, the man lay motionless, his eyes rolling back as he fell into unconsciousness from the shock.
For a moment, the chaos seemed to pause. Adam, standing calm in the center of the tumult, observed every detail with a measured, cool gaze.
His expression was unreadable, but behind those eyes, thoughts raced like a silent storm. He noted the trembling of the bandit's body and the fear that flickered in the eyes of the villagers.
It was clear that something was amiss—not only were these people being controlled, but they were also deeply unsettled by their own actions.
Reaching out, he gently touched the man's forehead with a single finger.
His touch was light but filled with purpose, and at the same time, his mind analyzed the situation in a silent monologue. He spoke softly in English, a language that cut through the murmur of the gathered crowd, "Analyze."
In that instant, a blue light ignited on the man's forehead. The glow was soft at first, but it quickly spread across his face, tracing the contours of his weathered skin.
The blue luminescence contrasted starkly with the unnatural green in the villagers' eyes, casting eerie shadows and drawing attention to every furrow and line on the bandit's face.
Adam watched closely, his eyes narrowing as he absorbed every detail of the strange transformation.
The blue glow seemed to pulse gently, as though it were alive, and for a brief moment, the silence was so complete that one could almost hear the rapid beat of Adam's heart.
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Before Adam could dwell further on this mysterious reaction, more villagers—now armed with crude wooden sticks—surged toward him.
Their movements were frenzied, driven by the brand's magic that seemed to grip their very souls.
The wooden sticks tapped against the hard ground as they advanced, each step measured yet frantic, their eyes fixed on Adam with an unsettling intensity.
Without missing a beat, Adam extended his other free hand and issued another command in English, his voice low and forceful: "Push!"
The word carried an immediate and powerful impact. In an instant, five of the villagers standing nearby were hurled backwards.
They soared through the air in a chaotic flurry of limbs and shouts before crashing back down onto the ground.
The force of the repulsion sent splinters of wood and dust swirling around them, and for a brief moment, the air was filled with the sound of bodies thudding against the earth.
High above on the balcony, Brand watched these events unfold with a mixture of mounting astonishment and a growing, eerie smile.
His eyes widened as he took in the spectacle below, the way Adam's magic had turned the tide of the confrontation.
The smile that crept across Brand's face was unsettling—a slow, creeping expression that spoke of both admiration and a hidden, sinister delight.
Around Adam, the villagers who were still under Brand's control moved with a disconcerting, robotic rhythm.
They attacked him not with the skill of trained warriors but like mindless zombies.
It was as if they were puppets, controlled by an unseen hand, their actions void of free will. Their steps were heavy and unthinking, and even their voices—when they managed to grunt or growl—lacked any spark of individuality.
In the midst of this chaotic scene, Adam's attention was drawn back to the fallen bandit.
His finger, which had been resting lightly above the man's head, suddenly tightened as if constricting his very neck. In that small, subtle movement, Adam's mind made a critical connection.
He realized with a sudden clarity what had truly been at work: Brand had cast a spell that turned these villagers into his puppets, binding them to his will like marionettes on invisible strings.
A cold shiver ran down Adam's spine at the thought. The idea that someone could control people so completely was both horrifying and infuriating.
There was a moment of deep silence as Adam stared at the bandit's face—the one that still glowed with the eerie blue light—and then his expression hardened with resolve.
He knew that this manipulation of the villagers had to be undone, not only for his own sake but for the sake of everyone caught in this dark enchantment.
Without delay, Adam leaped back from the group. His movement was fluid and decisive, and he slammed his hand hard on the ground.
The sound of his palm hitting the earth echoed through the courtyard, drawing the attention of brand.
The impact seemed to shake the very ground beneath them, and a ripple of energy passed outward, as if nature itself were responding to his command.
"I've found the solution," Adam declared, his voice carrying clearly over the ambient sounds of the village.
His tone was firm, resonating with the authority of someone who had studied the art of magic and understood its intricate workings.
With his hand still planted on the earth, Adam continued, speaking again in English, "Dispel Blood Connection!"
At the sound of his words, something extraordinary happened. A surge of blue light erupted from Adam's hand and traveled along the ground like a wave.
The light moved steadily, enveloping the bodies of every village inhabitant around him. The blue glow was pure and radiant, a stark contrast to the sickly green that had once filled their eyes.
It swept over them in a steady, rhythmic pattern, as if cleansing the very air and soil from the dark magic that had corrupted it.
As the blue light spread, the strange green glow in the villagers' eyes began to fade gradually. One by one, the unnatural light vanished from their gaze.
Their expressions, once vacant and controlled, slowly began to return to normal. The hard set of their jaws softened, and the wild look in their eyes was replaced by a dawning sense of confusion and relief.
Within seconds, the magic was undone, and every village inhabitant returned to normal. The oppressive spell was broken, and the balance of the moment shifted palpably.
In that final moment, as the last vestiges of the green glow disappeared and the blue light receded into the earth, silence reigned over the chaotic scene.
The villagers, now free from the Brand magic that had enslaved them, blinked and looked around as if awakening from a deep, troubling dream.
The air was filled with a heavy stillness, punctuated only by the soft rustling of leaves and the distant creaking of wooden beams swaying in the breeze.
Within seconds, the strange green glow in their eyes faded, and they all returned to normal.