Hidden within Suthur lay something the holy knights were unprepared to encounter. What appeared to be a small village was laid at the Heart of suthur.
Upon receiving the reports from his advanced scouts, the Paladin's face contorted with a mixture of shock and dismay, his features twisted in disbelief at the unexpected revelation.
"Are you certain the knights accurately reported what they saw?" the Paladin inquired, turning to Sir Molsic for confirmation.
"Yes, sir," Molsic affirmed, offering his reassurance to the Paladin.
The Paladin's face darkened with anger, his expression reflecting his deep displeasure.
"Monsters, those vile creatures, now dare to form villages? What audacity, what arrogance," the Paladin exclaimed, his voice laced with disdain.
"How dare they? How dare those wretched creatures presume to establish any semblance of civilization?" he scoffed, his laughter tinged with hysteria.
With a grim determination etched upon his features, the paladin vowed, "I will bring an end to their so-called civilization. I will bring an end to their lives as well."
Raising his hand in a silent gesture, the Paladin indicated his desire to be left alone.
Recognizing the signal, Sir Molsic respectfully exited the tent, leaving behind an atmosphere thick with tension.
The holy paladin raised his head slightly, scanning the dimly lit tent in search of a chair.
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With a heavy sigh, he finally located a chair tucked away in the corner and made his way towards it, his mind filled with thoughts of memories long forgotten or probably buried deep within him.
The haunting memory of innocent cries echoed in his mind, reminding him of the atrocities committed by the creatures he vowed to eradicate. The wails of children, their voices tinged with fear and despair, cut through his soul like a dagger, fueling his resolve to exterminate the monsters.
The vivid images that tormented him since childhood flooded his mind once more, vivid and relentless. Scenes of destruction, of innocent lives torn apart by the merciless claws of monsters, played like a cruel slideshow before his eyes. Each image etched deep into his memory, driving him to seek vengeance for the countless souls lost to the creatures.
The scent of his room in the small orphanage lingered in his memories, almost as vivid as if he were standing there once again. The faint aroma of old wood and musty fabric mingled with the comforting warmth of candlelight, offering a fleeting sense of solace.
The picture he had drawn two years ago, when he was six years old, hung on the wall opposite his bed. Its crayon strokes depicted a crude yet heartfelt representation of a family: a stick figure with outstretched arms, surrounded by smaller figures that seemed to dance around it in joyous abandon. Though simple, the image held a profound significance for him, a tangible reminder of the family he longed for.
The memories of his childhood were a haunting reminder of the darkness that lurked beneath the surface of his seemingly idyllic hometown on the outskirts of the holy empire. He had once yearned for a family, for the warmth of companionship and love, but the reality he had faced nearly drove him to madness.
The horror of that single night still echoed in his mind—the night when his town was erased from the world's map, labeled a forbidden zone by outsiders. In a single night, everyone in his town perished in a massive monster attack, leaving behind only devastation and sorrow.
The orphanage, too, became a victim of the carnage, consumed by the same terror that befell the rest of the town.
As in one night, a total of 46 children were slaughtered, their innocent lives snuffed out by the merciless rampage of the monsters.
In silent solitude, he sought refuge in the embrace of sleep, hoping to escape, if only for a moment, the haunting memories that plagued his mind.
With a heavy step after another he made his way towards his bed.
The body of a young girl, roughly around the age of 16, lay motionless on his bed.
The young girl lay on the bed, shackles encircling her neck and hands, a grim testament to the cruelty she is enduring.
Her skin was bruised, and her clothes torn, evidence of the mistreatment she had suffered. Despite her ordeal, there was a glimmer of defiance in her eyes, a spark of resilience that refused to be extinguished.
As he removed his gloves with his teeth, the paladin's expression softened slightly as he looked upon the girl. He reached out a hand, gently brushing aside a strand of hair from her bruised face, his touch surprisingly gentle despite the roughness of his appearance.
He dragged his hands slowly down to the girls lower parts... A smile cuts across his face as the young girl moans in anguish.