The art of war is of vital importance to the State. It is a matter of life and death, a road either to safety or to ruin. Hence it is a subject of inquiry which can on no account be neglected

-Sun Tzu

"Men, let's go, check if there are any survivors!" Mengus ordered, swinging his sword towards the entrance to the village.

"And be careful," Lysa added, "looters might still be here."

Everything around them was on fire. The village had scars of a brutal raid all around it. The air was filled heavily with smoke, biting at their lungs, and their eyes, making it hard to see.

The once, well-kept, wooden houses were reduced to charred skeletons. The flames danced high in the blue sky, on the roofs and narrow streets, leaving behind nothing else, just a sound of wood burning.

There was something else in the air, the smell of burning flesh. The central square, once a main location for gatherings, now lay in disarray. Market stalls, once filled with fresh products and handmade crafts, were burnt to a crisp and broken. The remains of some of the goods were still scattered across the cobblestone ground.

"They must've been in a hurry so they couldn't get everything," Isaak said.

"Or they didn't care about it," Mengus rushed to the street where his house was, where his parents lived.

Passing by the village well, a place where everyone used to gather around and use it, stood tainted by the ashes and blood. Its once-pure waters now were tainted with the blood of the people that drank it, the stone rim bore marks of the human skull being bashed at it, pieces of brain on the ground and dead bodies suggested that.

Amidst the wreckage, signs of battle were visible everywhere around them. Broken weapons and pieces of armor lay across the village next to the dead bodies, telling a story of their own, a futile attempt by the villagers to defend their homes. The ground was covered by footsteps of both attackers and defenders, horses and livestock running around the village.

The livestock, silent witnesses to the tragedy, wandered around the burning village, their pens broken open and on fire. One of the pigs didn't waste a lot of time, eating a child's face that lay on the floor, guts opened.

"We have a survivor here!" somebody yelled, and people rushed to help him.

Mengus kept walking down the road he walked many times before. At the end of the street, on his left, his home.

Mengus staggered through the remains of what was once his home, the scent of smoke and the crackling of embers filled the air. The beams of the house were on fire, the flickering flames danced amid the ruins. Panic went through him as he tried to navigate through the maze of fire and destruction.

His heart pounded in his chest, trying to get out. The wooden door, now barely hanging on its hinges, revealed an unknown world to him. The rooms, once full of warmth and love, were filled with fire.

In the center of the devastation, Mengus's eyes fell upon the lifeless body of his father on the ground, a beam on fire covered him like a blanket. The sight froze time for him. The crackling flames showered his father's face with an eerie glow, showing his half-burnt face.

The air was choking him, as he rushed towards his father's side, falling to his knees beside the motionless body. The very walls that had witnessed the laughter, love, and shared stories of the family now stood as silent witnesses to their demise.

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His health in gray, he was dead. Still, he couldn't accept it. Mengus reached out to touch his father, hands trembling as he searched for any sign of life.

"The system is wrong, he is still alive, I know it. Come on dad! Please!" Tears started forming from his eyes.

Then, he noticed a faint movement beneath the rubble. His eyes widened when he saw his mother, badly burnt but miraculously alive. The dim light from the flames revealed her burnt figure, the HP bar hovering on the brink of depletion.

Mengus jumped on his feet and rushed to the rubble. He removed the rubble carefully to avoid causing further harm.

"AENA, GET ME AENA HURRY!!!" he screamed, asking for help.

"I'll go find her." Isaak ran.

While removing the wreckage, he could see the extent of the burns that had taken over her once-pale skin. The flames had been merciless, leaving nothing but destruction behind them.

His mother was wounded, and on the brink of death, but still, he felt a spark of hope that everything would be alright. The sight of her, almost burnt to death, fueled his resolve to do everything he could to ensure she would survive.

The more wreckage he removed, his mother's fragile form uncovered more. Her breathing was shallow, and her eyes were showing life but also pain.

Mengus gently got his mother in his arms, the flames flickered in the background, and their glow danced on their faces.

"You'll be okay mom, don't worry. Now I am here," he whispered to her.

His mother's eyes met his for a moment, and then they closed.

Mengus carefully got out, holding his mother close.

Isaak returned with Aena who rushed to tend to Mengus's mother. Her healing abilities were their only hope in this tough situation. Mengus, his eyes bloody from tears and smoke, stood beside his mother. The flames didn't stop, nor did they intend to. As Aena worked tirelessly to mend the wounds, Mengus glanced back at the remains of his family home.

"Is she going to be fine?" Mengus asked Aena, worried about his mother's health.

"I think so, we barely made it in time, I just need to do something about these burns. Please carry her to the entrance where I'll set up my tent, I can't do anything more like this."

Isaak and Mengus lifted her slowly and carried her outside the village, some more survivors had been found. They were given water and a place to rest.

"If I didn't go I could've protected them."

"You think if you were here you would've done something, right?" Lysa stood behind him.

Mengus didn't respond, he didn't even turn around, his eyes were fixated at the raided village.

She got closer and hugged him. He could feel her warmth.

"It will be okay Mengus, just believe, okay?"

"I'll find who did this."

"And what will you do then?"

He didn't respond. He spat on the floor, his face was dirty from the ashes.

"Isaak, get my horse, it is faster. I want you to go and find any traces of who it was and where they left. Now. They must be here somewhere close, this was only a couple of hours ago, and the sun is going down, they must camp somewhere."

Isaak just nodded and hurried away.

"Mengus, don't do anything stupid please."

Again, he didn't say a word.

* * *

Grief, anger, vengeance. He felt so many things at once. A question kept popping up in his mind: "What will you do to them?"

"Damn, that was a good question. So many ideas are coming to my mind. Let me just catch them."

He watched Aena tending the wounds of his mother. The village survivors gathered around, each telling their story, of the brutality they had endured.

"Men without a banner, around 100 of them just came rushing in. They had no chance. One of them said they went North, some East. Isaak and the others aren't back yet."

Aena, with skillful hands, worked diligently on healing the burns. The HP bar above Mengus's mother, once on the edge of depletion, gradually rose. Mengus felt a glimmer of relief as his mother's breathing steadied.

A party member on a horse came rushing towards them.

"Isaak sent me, someone set camp just North of here not far away, he stayed scouting."

"MEN! ON YOUR HORSES!"

"Mengus," Lysa tried calming him once again. "Please don't d-"

"You stay here, with the others without a horse, keep everyone safe."

Mengus mounted another horse, because Isaak left with his, and galloped into the fading sunlight, leaving behind the village consumed by flames and left in pieces and ruins. Driven by the thirst for justice and the memory of his father in the burning village he called home.