Fenrius kept his promise of remaining silent while enduring the torture. His eyes grew empty, and his face became devoid of expression. The Atria soldiers eventually grew weary of torturing him without seeing any reaction, so they began to ignore him. He became a forgotten prisoner, left alone in his private cell. At that moment, memories of his children's gang flooded his mind.
The next day, the same cycle repeated with the other prisoners: waking up, eating, mining work, but this time, Fenrius was no longer tormented. During breaks, he would always make a new friend, especially from the Imperial holding cell. He carefully observed the Atria soldiers' routines, identifying their vulnerabilities. When he was back in his cell, he used his daily time to perform push-ups, squats, sit-ups, and any other workout to improve his physical endurance.
One fateful night, when the Atria soldiers were intoxicated and careless, Fenrius took advantage of his small frame to maneuver through the bars of his cell. The prison was designed for adults, so the bars were spaced far enough apart for Fenrius to slip through. He snuck past the guards, who were too drunk to notice him, and fought his way out of the dungeon.
However, as he eavesdropped on the soldiers' conversation in front of him and learned of the arrival of a warden, Fenrius made a calculated decision. He deliberately slipped into the Imperial holding cell through a gap in the bars, paying no attention to the many prisoners who observed him. He leaned against the corner wall, pretending to be mute as he always did, concealing his true intentions.
"Hey, who's that kid?" asked a new prisoner.
The old prisoners immediately gathered around the boy, "Kid, has the warden arrived yet?" asked one of them.
Fenrius nodded in reply, then signaled with his hand that a prisoner had died the night before for daring to escape from the prison.
"Shit! So this is the day of our execution, huh."
"Hey, I'm seriously asking, who is that kid?" asked the new prisoner for the second time. "I've never heard him utter a single word once!"
The old prisoners smiled at the new prisoner, and one of them said, "He is Witching Night—no, just consider him an important messenger."
The other prisoner added, "Yeah, after being freed from the Atria soldiers' torture, this boy actively came to this cell to listen to and bring us news from the outside whenever new prisoners arrived."
The new prisoner chuckled as he now understood what happened. "I see, but what could a small brat like him have done to end up in a place like this? Murder, maybe? Hehe, just kidding..."
Most of the old prisoners recognized Fenrius, and because he had a small build, they used the boy as a tool to escape from the prison. Almost in line with them, Fenrius himself would rather attempt an escape together than rot in his old cell alone, where even the guards paid him little attention.
"Shhh, quiet! The guards are approaching..."
The sound of the guards' metal footsteps could be heard from a distance and getting closer, their presence demanding attention. Two guards opened the cell door, and one of them slammed his spear against the ground and announced, "All of you, to the execution chamber! Enjoy your last day!"
The prisoners hastily stood up, reluctantly obeying the guards' orders. Fenrius joined the group, keeping his head down and trying to blend in. They were led to a large room filled with lifeless bodies, but there were no torture instruments or pools of blood. Instead, a cauldron filled with green water stood in the center of the room.
The Atria soldiers stood guard in the room, their spears held at the ready. The warden watched over them, making sure that the prisoners did not resist. The soldiers warned the prisoners that any resistance would be met with swift and deadly force. One by one, the prisoners approached the cauldron, choosing to die by poison rather than be impaled by a hundred spears.
Fenrius felt the urgency of the situation. He was the fourth person in line to drink the poison. He knew he had to come up with a plan quickly, or it would be too late. He looked around the room, but there was no way out. The Atria soldiers were guarding all the exits.
In that tense moment, a familiar face approached him. It was Lieutenant Jack, one of the soldiers who had been torturing him. Jack leaned in close and whispered, "Hey, Fenrius, do you still remember me? Let's talk."
Fenrius recognized Lieutenant Jack's presence, but he chose to remain silent and composed. He had learned a lot about the prison's rules during his time among the Atria soldiers, and he knew that they wouldn't risk causing a disturbance. He also knew that this was his final day, so he simply disregarded Lieutenant Jack and refused to engage in any form of communication.
"Hey, it's been almost a month since you last spoke to us. Two days ago, the Witching Night Boy struck again! The royal supplies have been stolen repeatedly in your absence! If you help us find out who he is, I promise to set you free from this prison!" Lieutenant Jack pleaded, hoping to break Fenrius' resolve.
But Fenrius continued to avert his gaze, unyielding in his stance.
"Well, then! Enjoy your final moments, heading toward the afterlife you so desire!" Jack snapped, his voice filled with contempt.
The chief warden, distinguished by his black uniform, commanded a prisoner to step forward and handed him a cup filled with the green liquid from the cauldron. "Drink it," demanded the warden, "and don't resist if you don't want to die tormented."
The prisoner raised the cup, a sneer forming on his face. "Soon, you rebellious kingdoms will be obliterated by the Empire! Astoriamus will damn you all! And I will relish it from above!" he declared defiantly.
With his final words spoken, he consumed the green liquid. His body immediately stiffened, and he collapsed to the ground, paralyzed. The poison took swift effect, and the soldiers callously discarded his lifeless body onto a heap of corpses.
Now, it was the second prisoner's turn to step forward. He took hold of the cup, raised it high, and proclaimed, "Long live the One King!"
He too consumed the poison. His mouth foamed, his body convulsed, and slowly, agonizingly, he succumbed to the poison's deadly grip until not a muscle stirred.
The third prisoner, a new prisoner, stepped forward and snatched the cup from the warden's hand with a firm grip. He brought the cup to his lips and took a sip, but then abruptly stopped. The Atria soldiers held their breath. The prisoner's gaze pierced through each of them as he shouted defiantly, "There is only one king in the Runeverse! A Zesperia! Immortal and protected by the Divines! Only Astora Pendragon meets those criteria! For the Empire!" With a vehement gesture, he dropped the cup to the ground and retrieved a hidden knife from his shirt.
The soldiers recoiled in shock as the man lunged toward the warden, brandishing the sharp blade. However, in an unexpected turn of events, his head suddenly exploded, blood spraying everywhere, and his lifeless body collapsed to the ground. Everyone in the room was astonished to learn that the warden possessed a secret weapon, a Magnum pistol capable of delivering a lethal shot to a prisoner's head at a moment's notice.
"Next prisoner, step forward," ordered Sir Draxus, the Warden.
The fourth captive, the sole boy in the room, Fenrius, kept his gaze lowered. He picked up the discarded cup and filled it with poison from the cauldron. Just as he was about to bring it to his lips, the warden halted him with a gesture.
"Hey, kid... Any last words?" inquired the warden.
Fenrius offered no response. He stood motionless, as still as a stone, his silence akin to that of a lamb.
"Sir Draxus, it's futile," commented Lieutenant Jack. "The boy hasn't spoken in nearly a month. His will to live is extinguished. Now, he's nothing but a walking corpse."
The warden briefly glanced at the lieutenant before refocusing his attention on the boy. "Very well, then, boy. Proceed..."
The boy Fenrius consumed the poison, but something extraordinary occurred that left the soldiers astonished. The boy's body remained upright, unaffected by paralysis or convulsions. This puzzled them, as the poisons known to be lethal for adults seemed ineffective on young children. It was an unprecedented event in the prison's history. Despite the fierce and resilient nature of the criminals and captives, none had ever demonstrated the same resilience as the beggar boy.
"Damn, that boy! I knew there was something peculiar about him! No matter how many times he was thrown into the den of a ferocious beast with sharp fangs and claws, he managed to survive!" exclaimed Lieutenant Jack.
"Hey, kid! What's keeping you alive?!" shouted another soldier.
"It's no use! He won't answer. He has been silent for a month!" replied the third soldier.
“Sir Draxus! Let's just blow the boy's head off!” suggested the fourth soldier.
Sir Draxus pondered, ("What is happening? That boy should have perished, even if he ingested a small amount of poison. His body must have endured excruciating pain, yet his face showed no emotion. The boy's resilience is truly remarkable.")
"Next prisoner, step forward!" Sir Draxus commanded, and the warden handed him a cup containing a small dose of poison.
Seeing the great endurance of the boy after surviving death, the fifth prisoner drank it with confidence. Gradually, the effects of the poison took hold. His head grew dizzy, his body trembled, and in a hoarse voice, he struggled to speak, "What kind of poison... I... can't... n-no..."
Blood poured from the prisoner's mouth, staining his throat. His body slumped, and his hand reached out, longing to grasp something within his reach, but it fell limp with his final breath. The warden's suspicions were confirmed—ordinary poison was ineffective against the boy's heightened immunity as if he had been bitten by numerous venomous snakes.
"Kid!" called out Sir Draxus. "Due to your strong will to survive, I shall grant you an honorable death! A one-on-one duel against an Atria soldier! This shall be a wheel battle. If you emerge victorious, another soldier will serve you until your last breath!"
Fenrius nodded in agreement, and a smile appeared on Sir Draxus' face. He arranged the soldiers to form a circle, creating an arena-like setting, their expressions filled with disdain and disgust toward the young beggar, who was being granted such a solemn privilege.
Sir Draxus tossed a sword to Fenrius, who caught it gracefully, while Lieutenant Jack twirled his spear challengingly, entering the arena as the boy's first adversary. Fenrius stepped into the arena without armor, armed only with the sword bestowed upon him by the warden and his determination. The boy gazed intently at his opponent.
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"I brought you here, and I will end it here, boy!" declared Lieutenant Jack.
Sir Draxus exclaimed, "Let the fight begin!" as he fired his Magnum pistol into the air.
The soldiers erupted in cheers. The two combatants circled each other warily, sizing each other up. Lieutenant Jack took the initiative to attack first, but Fenrius swiftly maneuvered around the arena, keeping his distance from his opponent.
It was evident to everyone that in terms of sheer strength, a child could not match that of an adult soldier. Fenrius continued to evade the confrontation while searching for an opening. He was quick and agile, but he was also inexperienced, meanwhile, Lieutenant Jack was slower and more powerful, but too predictable.
"What's the matter with you Fenrius? Don't you have guts?! You’re nothing but a fly to me!" Jack taunted the boy, yet Fenrius remained silent.
With the strength he had gained from his rigorous training and weightlifting, Fenrius evaded Jack's attacks with three times the speed. Sir Draxus began to think of the potential usefulness of a boy named Fenrius if he were trained as a soldier. He recognized the value of Fenrius' exceptional resilience and mental toughness, which made him a valuable slave with a potentially high price. However, the warden also recognized that keeping the boy alive could pose a threat to the kingdom, like creating another "Witching Night Boy."
With his spear poised, Lieutenant Jack swiftly thrust it forward, narrowly missing Fenrius' small body. The boy struggled to anticipate his enemy's rapid movements.
"Why do you stay silent? That's why we've decided to end you! Maybe if you speak, we'll go easy on you! Answer me, Fenrius!" Jack ranted, launching attacks despite Fenrius' attempts to dodge.
Now it was the boy's turn to retaliate, but his strike was met with the block of Lieutenant Jack's spear, forcefully pushing Fenrius to the ground. The soldiers' cheers grew louder, while the prisoners watched with pity at the boy's futile struggle. In Sir Draxus' mind, this was the moment of the boy's demise. Lieutenant Jack bellowed in Fenrius' face.
"Speak, Fenrius! Beg me as you did before!"
Fenrius' hands trembled as he tightly gripped the spear's hilt, its tip perilously close to his neck. A sinister grin stretched across Jack's face, his gaze emanating a thick aura of murderous intent. However, his expression faltered when he saw Fenrius' calm gaze, even in the face of imminent death.
The boy forcefully expelled the poison that had been lingering in his mouth, mixing with his saliva, directly into Lieutenant Jack's eyes. Sir Draxus and the soldiers stood in stunned silence, while the captives watched in disbelief. Little did they know, Fenrius' immunity to disease and poison, which developed during his time in the slums, was now unquestionable.
Lieutenant Jack dropped his spear and began to rub his eyes. In his fleeting blindness, the cold iron of Fenrius' sword touched Jack's throat, then slashed it, severing his jugular vein. Blood immediately began to gush from the wound, and Jack fell to the ground, dead.
This was the pivotal moment, the decisive culmination of Fenrius' triumph in his lifetime. With just one opportunity, one decisive act, and one objective, he seized Lieutenant Jack's spear from the ground and aimed it directly at the warden. The unfolding of his actions seemed to defy the laws of time.
He knew the desperation that had driven the third prisoner to attack the warden with his concealed knife. He knew the deep-rooted fear the prisoners held for the warden compared to the spearmen. He knew that the warden's formidable long-range weapon was the very instrument of absolute power governing the prison's conditions. And he knew, without a shred of doubt, what he had set out to accomplish from the very outset.
Fenrius hurled the spear, piercing the warden's chest. Sir Draxus responded by grabbing the Magnum pistol from his pocket and aiming it at Fenrius. The boy deftly dodged the warden's bullet and simultaneously launched his sword. The sword struck the warden's head with lethal precision, instantly killing him and causing him to drop his firearm.
Fenrius seized the warden's gun, taking aim at the charging Atria soldier wielding a spear. As he fired the powerful Magnum, the prisoners, armed with hidden sharp weapons, joined the revolt, launching their own attacks against the soldiers.
In stark contrast to the demoralized Atria soldiers whose leader had fallen, the prisoners fought with relentless determination, their numbers growing as the rebellion gained momentum.
"Fenrius, my boy!" called out one of the captives guarding his back. "We are indebted to you! If you wish to escape, entrust the weapon to me. I promise to ensure your safe passage!"
"No," replied Fenrius, his voice devoid of emotion. "Let this room be drenched in blood and guts."
"Then we stand united!" exclaimed the captive.
That day, in the depths of the Atria military base's dungeon, a momentous rebellion erupted. Countless Atria soldiers fell victim to the onslaught. Former prisoners, criminals, and even ex-soldiers of the Empire joined forces in a united cause to overthrow their oppressors. At the forefront of the charge was Fenrius, unleashing the devastating power of the high-caliber Magnum to eliminate the remaining soldiers.
The chaos seemed unending, and news of the uprising spread like wildfire, reaching the kingdom of Atria and fueling the King's mounting fury and unease.
***
Reinforcements arrived at the execution chamber and began killing any prisoners they encountered. A commotion broke out in every prison cell, which had been freed by an imposter soldier. Fenrius slipped away from the group and ducked behind some nearby crates. Shouts of the guards and the clashing of metal reverberated through the air, creating an atmosphere of sheer chaos.
Making his way toward the exit, Fenrius caught sight of an Atria soldier who was brandishing a greatsword. He realized that the soldier was an imposter, as he was slashing his own comrades and orchestrating the disturbance as a diversion for the prisoners to escape. Fenrius was the first prisoner to slip into the cover of the night.
The sound of pursuing guards echoed through the forest as Fenrius sprinted. He utilized every ounce of strength and speed at his disposal. After what felt like an eternity of running, he finally collapsed onto the ground, gasping for precious breath.
Lying there, Fenrius came to the grim realization that he had traded one prison for another. He was a wanted fugitive with nowhere to go and no one to turn to. Nevertheless, he rose to his feet and ventured deeper into the ominous forest, before he succumbed to exhaustion once more.
His strength failed him, and he struggled to keep his heavy eyelids open. He found himself sprawled on the cold and damp forest floor, feeling as lifeless as a corpse. While a twinge of concern about the unseen creatures and insects lurking in the darkness tugged at his mind, he gradually came to accept his fate.
Rather than simply relying on the forest to guide him to find his way out, he decided to rest until daybreak. As he closed his eyes, his thoughts drifted to his comrades from the Children's Gang: Zachs, Vincent, Leroy, Rodrick, Thomas, and Mandee. They had all lost their lives during their quest to vanquish the monsters in the Gronoa Mountain.
In the midst of his weariness, Fenrius was suddenly overcome by a wave of dizziness. His head echoed with the words of a Dawnstrike Assassin he had encountered in a bar long ago. The assassin's charismatic voice had left an indelible mark on his memory.
("Everyone experiences moments of glory,") the assassin had said. ("And your future stretches far beyond this moment! Await your time!")
The Dawnstrike Assassin had been a guiding light for Fenrius, revealing the vastness of the Runeverse and imparting invaluable knowledge about its intricacies. Lessons on the complexities of the world, the conflicts between Independent Kingdoms and Empires, and the cautionary tales of treacherous individuals and kingdoms had been shared by the assassin. Of particular interest was the clandestine organization known as the "Sorcerers," which manipulated events from the shadows, exerting influence on those malevolent kingdoms.
What surprised Fenrius was the uniqueness of this assassin. He wielded a massive sword with the expertise of a seasoned warrior, setting him apart from others. The image of the dark-clothed figure brandishing his greatsword as he left the tavern was etched vividly in Fenrius' mind.
Waking amidst the darkness of the forest, Fenrius gazed up at the towering trees above, brushing away the leaves that clung to his cheeks. He rubbed his eyes and face to affirm that this was not a dream, and tears welled up as he realized he had survived. Gratitude filled his heart, seeing it as a miracle that the Creator of Heaven and Hell still didn’t want to take him yet.
Instead of harboring resentment toward life, he resolved to face the trials ahead with a resolute and mature mindset, understanding that the hardships he endured would forge his inner strength.
*
The following day, as the late afternoon sun cast its warm rays, Nightville witnessed the return of what had been taken from it. Fenrius, with disheveled hair, pallid complexion, and tattered prison attire, had come back to his hometown. At that moment, he beheld the sight of young children his own age sprinting toward him, calling out his name and shedding tears of joy for his long-awaited homecoming. His six friends—Dale, Yaevin, Luca, Camus, Talindra, and Kagari—embraced Fenrius as if he were their own kin.
"Fenrius, why did you have to go and sacrifice everything for our village?" Dale asked, his voice filled with concern and confusion. "You could have stayed here with us."
"And remember when we made that promise to explore the Runeverse together?" Camus added. "We couldn’t do that without you!"
"And if you weren't here, this village would've been wiped out ages ago," Luca chimed in. "You shouldn't be the one making sacrifices! You're our leader, man!"
Fenrius just smiled happily, even though he didn't fully listen to them. Seeing their familiar faces became one of the driving forces behind his will to live, just as his departed friends had entrusted him with the torch of life for their village. Now, it was his turn to carry that torch before passing it on to his surviving comrade. In a whisper, he found himself murmuring, "Somehow, I feel reborn."
His friends were silent for a moment, puzzled by Fenrius' nonsense expression. Their concern deepened as Talindra pointed out his pale face and feverish state. "Fenrius, you don't look so good. Are you alright?" she asked, her face full of worry.
Ever since Talindra mentioned it, Fenrius has been feeling sick. The remnants of the poison that had entered his body are now making themselves known. Not wanting his friends to worry, he immediately changed the subject. "Yaevin, did you manage to do it?" he asked, turning to his Elf friend.
"Yeah, kinda," Yaevin responded. "Gotta admit, Fenrius, being the one who distracts the enemy on the front lines is seriously tough. But hey, with everyone's help, those Atria soldiers still have no clue who we really are."
Fenrius placed his hand on Yaevin's shoulder, offering a reassuring gesture. "You did your best," he affirmed. "You all need to understand that the Witching Night Boy was originally one person, and when that person is no longer here, someone else must step up to take their place!"
As Fenrius listened to his friends, he felt his breath grow heavier. He realized that he was not only fighting with the poison in his body but also this suffocating evil aura. A mysterious figure materialized on top of the dark clouds of Gronoa. The figure silently surveyed the faces of each child before vanishing into the wind, leaving an enigmatic presence in its wake.
The wind blew through the clouds, and a red sunset painted the western sky. Fenrius turned his head toward the hills but saw no one. However, he felt a lingering presence trailing behind him, and the thought of death hovering over him made it difficult to calm down.
"Look, it's Fenry!" shouted one of the villagers, followed by others.
"Where has he been? I've missed him so much. He hasn't been around for a month," said another.
Fenrius felt his energy rise as the villagers surrounded him, greeting him with happy faces. Although he knew the end of the battle was in sight, he felt no glory. His blood still boiled from the rigors of yesterday's battle, and he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep tonight.
"Fenry, where have you been? Your clothes are so dirty," the old blacksmith asked, concerned.
"Blacksmith Uncle, can you forge a sword for me again?" Fenrius asked.
"Of course. What do you need it for?"
"I want to play again tonight. And Alchemist Uncle, can you make me an explosive ball like before?"
The old alchemist nodded. "Whatever you request, Fenry, I'll be ready to do it."
"No," said the bartender. "You've just returned after a month. We should have a feast in your honor."
"Not tonight, sir," Fenrius replied, pulling out a new weapon that surprised them all—a high-caliber Magnum pistol he had obtained from the warden, a symbol of the power that controlled the prison.
"What is that weapon?! I've never seen it before!" Dale exclaimed.
"It's a pistol, a long-range firearm loaded with bullets," the bartender explained. "When you pull the trigger, it unleashes explosive power with a loud sound. Unlike magic, a gun can instantly kill people."
"And this gun has one bullet left," Fenrius added.
"Okay... For tonight, I'll allow you to proceed," the bartender said, convinced.
Fenrius turned to his friends, "Do you all trust me for tonight?"
Fenrius felt unstoppable with his new weapon in his hands. He couldn't wait to use it, and the children's gang could resume their operations to steal valuable cargo after his absence. At first, when the children saw their captain's worn-out and dirty prison clothes, they hesitated. However, Fenrius had always been a successful swindler with a calculated plan rather than a total ambush, only that fact made them nod in agreement.
"Yeah, let's do it! With you, the children's gang becomes invincible!"
They were all buzzing with excitement, except for little Kagari, the shy girl with fiery red hair. She spoke softly, her voice barely above a whisper, "Um... Fenrius... Are you really sure about this? I mean, last time we were so close..."
"Not this time, Kagari," Fenrius dismissed her concerns. "I'm sorry for making you all wait. This is my time to shine."
The surge of adrenaline coursed through Fenrius, overpowering his hunger and thirst. His body trembled with anticipation, eager to exact revenge on the soldiers for what they had done to him. Fenrius knew that by working together with the villagers, they could accomplish anything. If his plan succeeded, they would be spared from starvation and the ravages of war.
"Fenry, if you fail to steal, run straight back to the village! We'll all be prepared to fight alongside you, even if it means giving our lives!" called out one of the villagers.
"Thank you, but the Witching Night Boy never fails to steal. Tonight marks my rebirth. After I succeed, we'll have a celebratory feast at the bar!" Fenrius declared confidently.
Everyone cheered for Fenrius, believing that the boy was a divine gift to their village.