From a distance, Fenrius saw a group of Nightville villagers and Atria soldiers gathered together. He wasn't sure if this was a good or bad sign, but he knew he had to stop running and seek their help.

When he reached the village, his heart sank at the sight that greeted him. The slums were on fire, and half of the village was in ruins. The flag of the Black Hydra was flying ominously in the wind, and there were lifeless bodies strewn everywhere, their heads mounted on wooden spears.

The soldiers glared at Fenrius with cold, piercing eyes, making the already tense atmosphere even more oppressive. He looked around in shock, his dismay growing as he saw a royal golden palanquin in which the King of the Atria Kingdom was seated, accompanied by the masked sorcerer who had been pursuing him. Fenrius felt a sense of impending doom.

His anger boiled over when he saw the lifeless body of Kagari lying on the ground, an arrow piercing her small frame. Talindra's body was swinging ominously from the execution site, a grim reminder of the injustice that had been done. Dale's body was covered in brutal wounds from multiple spears, while Camus hung suspended by chains near a suffocating pool, his body soaked and lifeless. Luca's motionless body was found in the wreckage of their once-cherished home. Fenrius wished with all his heart that this nightmare would end, but the brutal reality before his eyes confirmed that it was all too real.

Fenrius cried out "Kagari!" as he ran to her and lifted her body, blood running down her mouth. He looked closely at her face, his heart heavy with guilt. ("I'm sorry...it's all my fault...I'm sorry...I left you guys again...") Fenrius gently placed her body back on the ground.

"That one! He does not show reverence for the kingdom!" exclaimed General Riggs, recognizing Fenrius from their encounter at the bar the previous night.

Three soldiers swiftly moved to disarm Fenrius, awaiting the judgment of the Great King.

"Hehe, those were all your friends, weren't they? They perished against the wishes of your own people," whispered a soldier into Fenrius' ear.

"I'm sorry, Fenry. We had no choice," confessed one of the villagers who had been close to Fenrius. "If we didn't act, we would all have perished."

The sight of his comrades' deaths, the devastation of the village, and the weary expressions on the faces of the villagers overwhelmed Fenrius. He was tormented by the internal pressure he felt, and he couldn't help but question how much longer this suffering would continue. If there seemed to be no other way to save it, perhaps destroying the village would be a simpler solution.

"That is enough," declared the king. "Gwynael, are you certain he is the Witching Night Boy?"

"Yes. Not only is he their leader, but his will to survive sets him apart from the others," replied the sorcerer named Gwynael.

The king locked eyes with Fenrius, sensing a challenge within his gaze. "Lately, our supplies have been dwindling. I can't believe a group of children could defeat the Atria soldiers."

"These kids have been trained, especially him. He managed to escape from me," added Gwynael. "What do you intend to do with him, Your Fierceness?"

"Boy," called the king. "What is your defense?"

Silence greeted the king's question, and the soldiers tightened their grip on Fenrius' arms, as the boy remained unwilling to reply. He wasn't the type to unleash his anger upon the oppressed villagers. If anyone was to blame, it was himself for not putting an end to everything. Instead, he chose the path of perpetuating an endless struggle.

The king looked down at Fenrius, unable to decipher his expression. Fenrius lowered his gaze, wishing for death to end the ceaseless cycle of pain and suffering.

"Speak, you fool!" snapped the king, causing the villagers to take a step back. Frustrated by the boy's persistent silence, the king lost his composure and reached the peak of his anger. "I am King Urien Hamonviel! You conspired with the rebels and aided in their acts of rebellion. Your punishment is death!"

Fenrius showed no reaction. Lost in a haze of despair, his mind wandered as the soldiers led him toward the blazing execution site, once designated for witches. He closed his eyes and awaited the inevitable.

King Urien was slightly taken aback by the boy's lack of flinching at his threats. This ceased to entertain the king in any way.

"Wait!" The king halted his soldiers with a hand gesture, then turned to address Fenrius. "I will give you a chance to live, brat. Your life now rests in their hands."

King Urien rose from his throne and spoke to the crowd, "So this brat has done everything for this wretched heap of a village. Now, among all of you lowly scum dwellers, select someone to sacrifice and appease my wrath. You have ten seconds. If you fail to choose, I will sever your heads one by one!" His voice boomed, commanding obedience.

The villagers exchanged fearful and bewildered glances, fully aware that they had no choice but to comply. After a brief moment of hesitation, they collectively pointed toward Fenrius.

The boy's heart sank at the realization that those he had always supported, providing them with food, money, medicine, and more, were now sentencing him to be sacrificed. Fenrius bit his lip, fighting the urge to speak, but ultimately succumbed to the harsh reality before him.

"Well, boy... Farewell," said King Urien. "Hang and burn him! I will teach you the consequences of crossing the King of the Atria Kingdom!"

The soldiers set up the execution apparatus—towering gallows designed for public display. They tightly bound Fenrius' hands and feet with ropes, securing him to the gallows. Wood and torches were prepared to ignite the stake.

As the soldiers carried out the execution, tears streamed down the faces of some villagers. In their hearts, a profound sense of guilt weighed heavy for the atrocities committed against Fenrius and his companions. These villagers prayed and hoped for a miracle to save the boy, while many others had become hardened and indifferent, their hearts turned to stone.

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"Any last words?" asked the torchbearer, ready to ignite the logs beneath Fenrius.

Fenrius kept his eyes closed and remained silent.

"Oh, my apologies. There's no point in asking a dead person," sneered the torchbearer.

The torchbearer set the wood ablaze, and the flames swiftly consumed the stake. Gwynael, growing weary of the boy's quiet resignation, opened a portal and vanished from the scene.

The heat of the fire began to scorch Fenrius' feet, and his thoughts turned to his departed friends in the afterlife since there was nothing left for him to safeguard.

("Guys, wait for me... I will surely catch up with you...")

Second by second, Fenrius felt lost, realizing that he possessed the ability to resist but had chosen not to. He pondered whether, if rain were to fall and extinguish the flames, he would have preferred to fight, even amidst the agony. Yet it seemed that no one in this world desired his presence anymore, not even the Runeverse. There was no rain, not even the sky shed tears for his departure. He yearned to release all ties and memories from this world, but something held him back.

Fenrius' mind flooded with memories of his friends, one by one, as he reminisced about their shared experiences guided by the mother of wisdom. Despite lacking a roof over their heads, they found joy in being together, laughing and cherishing each moment. They had faced hardships, but they always discovered a glimmer of hope. The emotions they shared, both joyous and sorrowful, were fleeting, like a passing breeze.

Suddenly, the tragic scene of his friends' deaths overwhelmed Fenrius' thoughts. Their unfulfilled promises and dreams of exploring the vast world together weighed heavily on his heart, fueling his regret, guilt, and self-loathing. As the fire's heat intensified, Fenrius realized he was the last torch of hope. He opened his eyes.

To the surprise of the Atria soldiers and King Urien, the gallows began to sway slowly.

"Did you see that? The gallows...it's moving," one soldier exclaimed.

The swaying of the gallows intensified, capturing their attention.

"So, the boy refuses to surrender," another soldier remarked.

"Fenrius! Just give up already!" a soldier shouted, his words echoed by the others. "What can a mere boy do against the might of the kingdom?"

The villagers, aligning with the soldiers, begged Fenrius to give up his struggle, emphasizing that his continued persistence could cost him an arm or a leg.

"Please, Fenrius, give up! This world is too cruel for someone as young as you."

"Don't squander this chance to be reunited with your friends!"

As the ropes on Fenrius' feet loosened from the fire, he managed to free his leg, albeit with a lingering burn. He kicked back at the gallows, causing it to creak and strain under the force. The soldiers were taken aback by the boy's tenacity, a mixture of astonishment and concern filling the air. Undeterred, Fenrius raised his legs once more, unleashing another powerful kick that shattered the gallows. Amidst the crumbling structure, he tumbled down through the encroaching flames.

A multitude of Atria soldiers swiftly encircled Fenrius, their weapons at the ready, while King Urien himself fell silent in awe of the boy's indomitable spirit. Fenrius, his hands now free from the ropes, rose slowly to his feet. With a burst of resilience, he darted through the ranks of guards, defying the overwhelming odds stacked against him. But his efforts proved futile as a soldier managed to trip him, bringing him crashing down to the ground.

The Atria soldiers descended upon Fenrius, delivering blow after blow, causing anguish and sorrow among the witnessing villagers. Overwhelmed by the torment, Fenrius struggled to rise again. As a soldier lifted a large block of wood, commanding his comrades to make way, a resounding thud echoed through the air as it collided with Fenrius' back. Agonizing pain wracked his body, pressing him further into the unforgiving earth. The Atria soldiers reveled in their sadistic act, relishing in the torture of a mere child who had reached his breaking point.

Undeterred by the frenzied atmosphere, Fenrius summoned every ounce of his willpower, determined not to yield to the brutality unfolding around him. Crawling forward with painstaking effort, his progress was slow and arduous. Realizing that he couldn't fight back physically or vocally, he resorted to silently cursing them within the depths of his heart.

King Urien, amused by the spectacle, let out a light chuckle before joining the sadistic chorus, his words dripping with cruelty. "I find this quite entertaining. Hold your attacks for now! Let him crawl to the tree in the forest, and then we shall end his life."

The king's laughter rang out, followed by the jeers of his soldiers. Fenrius, unmoved by their taunts, was reminded of the many hardships he had faced in his life. Death was a constant companion in his world.

The soldiers jeered at the dying boy, calling him "feeble as a worm." Another encouraged him to keep fighting, saying that he was almost there. Fenrius ignored them and continued to crawl toward the tree, his body agonizing with exhaustion. He knew that his chances of survival were slim, but he would rather die fighting than submit to his fate.

As the soldiers drew their bows, Fenrius's body finally gave out. He collapsed to the ground, too weak to move. He closed his eyes and waited for the end. He knew that this was the final chapter of his life.

For a child who had tasted the bitterness of life, Fenrius clung to a singular thought: ("One chance! Give me just one chance! Please, grant me one chance!")

"Ready!" commanded General Riggs, signaling the imminent release of their arrows.

Blood drenched Fenrius' hair, trickling down his forehead and seeping into one of his eyes, turning it a haunting shade of red. Tears streamed from his other eye, tracing a path down his cheek. With a determined motion, he raised his head and fixed his gaze upon the figure standing resolutely before him. It was a sight that surprised him, and even King Urien and his soldiers were taken aback as a mysterious person emerged from behind a nearby tree. Standing tall, draped in a flowing black robe, the figure wielded a greatsword.

("This...is Fate,") Fenrius whispered to himself, recognizing the hand of destiny at play.

The figure raised the greatsword and swung it in a wide arc, unleashing a shockwave that reversed the direction of the arrows and sent the soldiers flying backward. The general led his cavalry to charge forward, ready to thrust at the figure, but their attempts to counterattack were futile as the figure's speed surpassed their own.

With a swift spin of the sword, he created a whirlwind, knocking the cavalry off their armored horses and scattering the infantry in all directions. Fenrius watched in awe as the figure effortlessly defeated his assailants. Even the Great King himself couldn't believe his eyes; it was like a scene ripped from a storybook.

The last soldier fell to the ground, and the figure approached Fenrius. "Do you still remember me?" he asked, opening his hood.

Fenrius nodded, still in shock from the incredible display of power he had just witnessed. The Dawnstrike Assassin, the same person he had once requested help from two months ago, had finally come to his aid. His trademark black robe and greatsword were already firmly embedded in Fenrius' mind.

"I have been watching you for some time," the assassin said. "You have potential, but you have a long journey ahead. I apologize for taking away your future."

The assassin cradled Fenrius in his arms and disappeared into the depths of the forest, leaving behind the shattered fragments of the boy's former existence. The king's thunderous fury exploded through the air, reverberating through the forest and prompting the iron horse cavalrymen led by General Riggs to start in pursuit. Unable to calm down, the king also ordered his infantrymen to kill all the villagers without mercy.

Fenrius gritted his teeth, but his cries gradually ceased as his gaze fixated on the Dawnstrike Medallion swaying from the neck of the black-robed man. Three shimmering metallic emblems adorned the front of the man's uniform: the Fist Raised in Solidarity, the Broken Chains, and the Torch of Enlightenment.

A pang of guilt pierced the assassin's heart as he carried Fenrius, burdened by his belief that deceased children were destined to receive free passage to the Palandria Heaven. As the leader of the Revolutionary Army, he found himself uncertain of what lay next for the orphan boy. Nonetheless, the ever-intensifying conflicts of the Rune Wars among the Sovereign Kingdoms of Atria, Xina, and Falenas had inexorably led to this moment—the day Fenrius had to bid farewell to the continent of Ardaenor.