"Get Conrad and flee the village! Almost everyone's dead, and the main guard's been slaughtered!"

"Get the elder, kids and women out of this place, we'll help out the Zalphion's student and hold them back!"

"Head for Ryuviel! You'll be safe there!"

After seeing how the tide of battle crushed the defending forces, the villagers, mainly the men, decided to arm themselves and fight for the safety of their loved ones.

The band of invaders and pillagers were ruthless and bloodthirsty, sparing no one if they ever got the chance to.

The villagers rounded up some retired veteran fighters and some who were old enough to serve as guards for the long march to Ryuviel, using the exit to the back of their village as a route of escaping without the knowledge of the pillagers.

*pant* *pant*

Losing the energy to keep fighting the men who have surrounded him, he staggered back, only to find himself helpless against his adversaries.

Though the battle had only begun, the entirety of the men who had joined him in repelling the attackers had either been apprehended or killed ruthlessly, leaving him alone or separated from them.

He was covered in dirt and blood, which were his own and some others' mixed in.

Still, he did his best and took much of the men's attention, forcing their aggression upon him, which as a result led them to toying with him, corralling him in a circle, then pointing their blades at him, creating a small arena.

He could not count how many, but this was vaguely his seventh victim.

When the first belittler came inside the circle, he proceeded to take the youth's life without mercy, hacking and slashing relentlessly and recklessly without remorse.

They howled in excitement each time the youth would fall down on the ground, or if he were to be pushed back to one of the men serving as walls.

They would push him back with their feet, or smack him with the blunt edge of their weapon, causing him to bleed with a fatal strike to the back of his head.

It was warm, and more so unpleasant as it mixed with the smell of dry, cold air passing by them.

That was when he could not control his body, stumbling forward with his guarded stance, instead rushing the suddenly bewildered man, who took the brunt of the attack, receiving a cut across his torso, which bled right away as the youth's weight continued to shift forward, resulting in the blade to further slice deeply through the unfortunate man's skin tissue.

"Ahh, Ahh! It hurts! Get this thing off me!"

He furiously howled in pain, touching the part of his body that bled profusely, then limping to the ground as he fell face first, dying then and there.

Heinrich watched in terror as he reeled from the shock and sensation that he felt when the blade he had continued to cut through him with ease.

He realized it and could not believe that he had done such a thing.

"I-I killed someone... No, it can't be. Ha, he must be just resting, right?"

He was surrounded by silence and cold stared from the men around him, who looked at Heinrich like he had done wrong.

He was forced, but he did do something terrible, that much he was aware of.

The silence was then followed by a roar of laughter, erupting and booming around him.

Without delay, another man entered, brandishing his weapon as he licked his tongue.

It became clear to him as to what will happen if he allows such a thing to fall upon him.

He picked up his blade with his shaking hands, pulling his sword from the deceased man's body with a gut-wrenching feeling, averting his eyes from the gruesome sight that he had created.

Now it brings us to the present where an exhausted youth, struggling to draw their attention towards him, knowing no other way to keep them at bay.

After adjusting somewhat to having killed someone, he was able to endure and keep moving.

Just before they became bored did the army of pillagers turn their attention to the rumbling sound of roaring building up slowly.

The wooden gates opened, followed by a loud charge of numerous group of poorly defended villagers armed with torches pitchforks and other farming weapons.

"Get them!"

Surprised and clearly bewildered, the pillager army was unable to prepare themselves for the oncoming charge, which proved effective despite being performed by poorly trained, or inexperienced people.

Weapons rarely clashed, and blades, iron, and steel met skin and flesh, bathed in blood and felled lives without mercy.

The youth became amazed at the bravery of the villagers and how they showed it with their actions, leading him to being filled with enough will to fight back those that surrounded him, taking down the unaware and distracted.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

But, against those who have become murderers by profession, their chances of living through this encounter is nearly nonexistent.

Soon, each one of them started to fall despite their valiant efforts to fight back.

There was no chain of command on the enemy's side, yet all they needed was to realize that they were against the same people they threatened.

And what followed is the villager's downfall, which plummeted.

They tried to yell in agony and pain, but some were unable to even say their last words as they were hacked to death with sharp or blunt edged weapons, brutalized as their killers smiled with a rush of adrenaline and enjoyment.

The youth watched as the tide of battle changed instantly, shifting from the villagers, who appeared to have the upper hand at the beginning, to the pillagers, who had superiority with experience and numbers alone.

Soon, the youth found himself losing hope of succeeding, leaving him disheartened and unable to fight back as he tried saving those who he thought still had a chance of being saved.

"Hey, take that kid! We can sell him to slave trader for a pretty hefty price!"

He was immediately apprehended, kicked down on the ground and brutalized by those who became irritated with the mere sight of his face, causing him to black out and lose consciousness.

The others were not so fortunate, killed, while some were captured and bound with rope.

The remaining villagers who staged a final defense were now silent, either deceased or captured to be sold as slaves.

The night became filled with roars of cheer and celebration.

"Pillage and ransack the village, take the women, and bound those who look capable of being sold!"

Some then separated, laying waste to the village in droves.

"Sir, there's no one of them here! They're gone!"

"Send out a search party at once and find those damned rats! We're going back to the hideout to distribute the loot."

Soon, they began burning the village, leaving nothing in its wake as it fell to the ground, returning to its state, before it was occupied.

Without anything left, the army then departed with those whom they spared and thought of as decent and would sell fairly well enough for them to benefit from.

Within a few minutes after the invading army departed, another arrived, but a smaller numbered one.

They were led by a man wearing his own custom armor, wearing a look of surprise and horror as he surveyed the area around him, now reduced to rubble.

He dismounted, walking a few steps forward only to fall to his knees, limp and dejected.

"No... I was... Too late."

A knight wearing full, blue armor, dismounted as well, looking at the damages with a stern and calm mind.

"Is this the place?"

She asked, not taking into consideration the emotions that the young man was feeling.

"Yes. More like what's left of it though."

Immediately, he stood up, running across the bodies of the fallen, and towards the burnt wooden gates, scouring the area in hopes of finding someone.

But, only traces of ashes strewn all around him.

"Conrad! Elder! Where are you?! It's me, Hector! Anyone, answer me, please!"

He shouted as loud as he could, only to receive no answer.

On the way, he saw faces of whom he recognized.

He knew their names, but dared not speak them lest he wanted to disturb their eternal sleep.

He returned to the army's general, on the verge of breaking down and becoming a lunatic who lost everything.

"Captain, I want you to take two squadrons and search the area for any signs of survivors."

The knight she called over saluted, then galloped away on his horse with his men in tow.

"Second platoon commander. Take your platoon and scout the area. Return to me if you find anyone close by. I want a tight and secure perimeter around here until I can find anything out."

"Yes, my lord!"

The platoon commander did the same.

"The rest of you. Arrange the corpses and prepare graves for the bodies."

Her unit moved in an organized manner, following her orders as they all dismounted.

She then returned her attention to the young man, who was almost the same height as her, only a few inches taller.

"Keep yourself together and tell me what happened here."

His body shuddered, and he could not manage a response, struggling with all his might to keep his composure intact.

Still, he persevered, speaking the very details as to how it began, and how it ended up into a conflict filled with blood and anger.

After he had explained much, the knight them asked him about his whereabouts.

"Tell me. Who was the one that sent you?"

"Heinrich. His name was Heinrich."

Although she did not become fond of the idea of him being around her, she became concerned after having heard it once more.

Truth be told, she did not want to believe such a thing.

She inspected a majority of the bodies, identifying them as best they could before burying them.

But she was unable to find one that resembled that man's face.

There was nothing else that they could do.

The village had been burned to the ground, and only this one man survived, spared from the brutality that looked inevitable.

Except, they found something odd.

"All the bodies have been buried, my lord. Oddly enough they're all men. No children, elderly, or even children for that matter."

Upon hearing this, Hector's face lit up, realizing that his brother might be still out there somewhere.

"Call all the platoon commanders and have them form up a marching line. We're going back to Ryuviel for the time being. We need more information before we can move freely."

With a salute, the man, serving as her captain and right hand, left to spread her orders.

"You are also going back with us to Ryuviel. If you want things to go through smoothly, then we'll need you to cooperate and identify people."

He nodded filled with determination.

The army then departed, leaving a brief prayer before that.

The village was no more.

He felt his body being shook without a sign of it stopping.

Slowly, he began opening his eyes, looking above at the clouded sky of a new dawn.

He tried to stand up, only to be brought back down by a sturdy piece of rope tied on his wrists tightly.

He looked around him, seeing people of different colors, all looking deathly and pale as they slept.

Each one had either bruises or wounds on their bodies, wearing a minial to no amount of clothes at all.

There were seven of them in total, all looking to be adults or young men and women.

He tried to move once more only to have his entire body assaulted with pain.

In that moment he remembered how he received them.

"Where... am I?"

A large, vigorously fit, and tall looking man with a scar on his left eye spoke with a deep voice, matching with his bodily frame.

He did not show any sign of struggling, only keeping his body still.

"Finally awake, are you?"

"Who are you and where am I?"

"Pity you don't know anything. I can't blame you. You looked battered everywhere. Better take things gradually than have them all thrown at you. You're a slave now. We all here are. I don't know where we're headed, but all I know is that we're being sold out to people."

"A slave?"

He did not know how to respond.

But, he did feel fear, and he could not express it due to the pain he felt all across his body, feeling like an endless torment.

Instead, he became still and breathed in and out, focusing on the pain and how he could dismiss it as it felt like it could drive him insane if it kept going.

"You're pretty calm. I guess that's better than being wasting your energy. My name's Bertrand Elrais. What's yours?"

He tried to calm himself down by speaking with the large man.

"H-Heinrich. My name's Heinrich."

"Well Heinrich. Let's look out for each other. Things aren't looking so well for us in the future."

Thus the man slept, leaving Heinrich to cope with the pain by himself, in which he struggled to make do with the constant shaking of the carriage.