With that, they both dashed off in opposite directions, each set on their own crucial mission.

As Ivan ran, he tried to establish a connection through his radio. "HQ, HQ, this is Sgt Ivan Abrams of Red Musket—" He hesitated for a moment. Still, he decided it was crucial to report the truth.

"I was attacked by some creatures that looked like… goblins, and I killed many of them."

Ivan continued his report. "Currently, from the north, I see an area that is burning, and there appears to be a dragon spewing fire. Along the way, I encountered fleeing civilians heading towards a village called 'Manilia.' I never heard of that village, but please send troops there!"

"I repeat to HQ—" Ivan's report was suddenly interrupted by the sound of a distant gunshot. He gritted his teeth at the noise and quickened his pace. "Please be safe," he prayed silently.

As Ivan sprinted closer, the scene of destruction unfolded with devastating clarity. The flickering light from the flames illuminated the night, casting an eerie glow that revealed the charred remnants of houses and a wooden wall, all engulfed in roaring fire. The structures were reduced to mere silhouettes against the raging inferno, their forms distorted by the heat and smoke that rose in thick, suffocating columns into the blackened sky.

He finally saw the burning gate entrance. His heart felt a little relieved when he saw another group of civilians fleeing. Ivan immediately got in position, then waved his hands while flashing his lights, "Over here!"

As Ivan approached the burning entrance of the village gate, his heart lightened slightly when he saw a group of civilians fleeing the chaos. Quickly positioning himself where he could be most visible, he waved his hands vigorously while flashing his lights to draw their attention. "Over here!" he called out, his voice urgent but steady, cutting through the noise of the crackling flames and chaotic commotion.

First, Ivan secured the location by surveying the surroundings with a trained eye. Though he detected no immediate threats, a knot of apprehension tightened in his stomach. The air is tense, charged with an undercurrent of impending danger.

As the group of villagers neared, panting and dishevelled, Ivan quickly assessed them. "Is everyone here? Are there any more survivors?" he asked, scanning their faces for signs of hope or further despair.

A haggard woman, her eyes wide and frantic, pushed her way to the front. Tears streamed down her soot-streaked cheeks, her voice trembling as she cried, "The twins! Have you seen them? They were playing by the square when the attack started!"

A ripple of worry spread through the other villagers. A burly man stepped forward, his own fear momentarily forgotten. "We should search the houses first, then—"

Ivan's hand shot up, silencing him. "Tell me, where did you last see them?"

A young boy, no older than ten, peeked out from behind a woman's leg. "They were headed towards the graveyard, sir, just before the attack started."

Ivan's gaze snapped towards the boy. "The graveyard? At this hour?"

The boy nodded, a small sniffle escaping his nose. A villager pointed a shaking finger towards the east. "Just past the central well, sir. By the old oak tree."

Ivan's jaw clenched. "Alright, listen to me carefully. You're heading south, towards Manilia, right? There's a group of survivors there already. You need to join them, understand? Everyone here. Now." He swept his gaze over the hesitant crowd. "The twins are my priority. Are there any others still trapped?"

A collective shake of heads met his question. "Just the adventurers, sir," a woman mumbled, her voice barely a whisper. "But we don't know if…"

"Understood." Ivan cut her off. "Now get moving! I'll find those kids!"

Without hesitation, Ivan bolted towards the burning village, his resolve steeling him against the heat and danger. "Anyone in there! Come out! I will save you!" he bellowed, his voice echoing off the crumbling walls.

The village is an inferno, with embers swirling like fiery snowflakes and debris from collapsing homes crashing around him. Amidst this chaos, Ivan's ears caught the faint cries of children. He sprinted towards the sound, dodging flaming timbers and leaping over debris. As he drew closer, the cries became clearer—terrified yet resilient.

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"I'm coming! Keep calling out to me!" Ivan shouted, hoping his voice would provide some comfort to the frightened children.

But as Ivan turned a corner, he bumped into something. Ivan regained his balance, squinting through the smoke to make out the silhouette of the creature he had bumped into. It was a squat humanoid figure roughly his own height, with distinctly pointy ears jutting out from its head. Ivan's heart pounded as he realized this was no ordinary human.

Chills ran down Ivan's spine as the creature turned to face him. Its face was grotesquely pig-like, with large, jagged teeth stained with fresh blood. In its hands, it gripped a massive axe, its blade gleaming ominously even in the dim light of the fire. This creature was different from the goblins Ivan had encountered earlier; there was a deeper, more menacing hunger in its eyes. Its an Orc

Ivan let out a sigh, not of resignation to defeat but of disbelief at the surreal nightmare unfolding around him. "Hah~ I must really be losing my mind," he muttered under his breath. This acknowledgment wasn't a surrender to that creature, but a brief concession to the absurdity of his situation.

The creature snorted aggressively, a sound that was part grunt, part growl, as it brandished its axe in a threatening display. Ivan watched its movements carefully, every sense heightened, knowing that his response in the next few seconds would be crucial.

The creature then unleashed a ferocious swing, its axe cleaving through the air with such force that when it struck the ground, it seemed as though the earth itself split apart. Dirt and debris erupted from the impact site, scattering in all directions. But this time, Ivan didn't hesitate; he seized the moment to retaliate. He quickly aimed and fired a three-round burst directly at the creature's head. The bullets connected with lethal precision, and the orc collapsed, its head gruesomely mutilated from the impact.

Ivan glanced briefly at the fallen orc, its head mutilated, confirming the kill, then hurried onward in his quest to find the missing twins.

As he approached the central well, which the villagers had mentioned, Ivan finally caught sight of the twins. A young girl was desperately trying to help her twin sister to her feet. The girl appeared injured, struggling to stand even with his sister's support.

"Leave here, Alisa! It's too dangerous; leave me and go quickly!" the girl implored, her voice weak but urgent.

"I can't! I was the one who insisted we visit Mom and Dad this late; it's my fault you're hurt. So come on, Reona! We can make it out of here together!" Alisa replied, her voice trembling with determination and fear.

"I'll just slow you down!" Reona protested weakly.

Just as Ivan processed this scene of desperation, a new threat emerged from the shadows. Dark figures began to materialize around them—orc warriors, their brownish skins almost camouflaging with the night, eyes glowing with a malevolent red as they tightened their circle around the helpless children.

"Leave here, Alisa! It's too dangerous, leave me and go quickly!" Reona's plea was desperate, her voice echoing the terror of their situation.

"I can't! We promised Mom and Dad that we'd always stick together," Alisa responded, her determination faltering as the encroaching orcs raised their weapons, ready to strike.

Ivan's heart pounded in his chest as he realized the imminent danger. The distance was too great, and the orcs were too close. "Shit! I won't make it in time!"

Suddenly, amidst the tension and fear, a deep, authoritative voice cut through the chaos. "Get down!" it commanded. Alisa instinctively pulled her sister close and ducked, shielding both of them with her body. Just then, from the left, a powerful wave of energy surged through the air, resembling a horizontal slash of lightning. It soared just above the twins' heads. It struck the advancing orc, which seemed to be electrocuted or stunned, its body freezing midair as it was about to deliver a deadly blow.

"Now, sis!" the same voice called out again.

"I got it!" an energetic yet serious, youthful feminine voice responded. In an instant, as if conjured from thin air, sharp ice or crystal spikes materialized, pointing directly at the orcs. With rapid succession, these icy projectiles launched like a barrage from a machine gun, impaling the orcs in their heads and bodies. The orcs howled in pain, and the front line collapsed under the assault.

However, the threat was far from over. More orcs emerged, these ones even larger, standing between 8 and 9 feet tall, with bulky bodies. The axes they wielded were larger than the children themselves.

Undeterred, the massive orcs prepared to attack again. The twins, overwhelmed by fear, clung to each other, crying.

As the orcs swung their axes simultaneously, a figure moved with astonishing speed into the fray. A man, large and imposing, wielding a massive shield that looked like it was cut from an iron door, intercepted the blow. His long dark hair flowed behind him, and his knight's armour, though rusted and battered with dents and a scorched black cape tattered and torn, held firm against the attack. The clash of metal was deafening, sparks flying as the shield met the axes. Remarkably, despite the orcs' greater size, they were the ones who recoiled from the impact.

When the orcs' axes were thrown backwards by the force of their own thwarted attack, the knight seized the opportunity. He drew his enormous sword, which was also worn and seemingly dull yet still formidable. The massive blade, wider than a man's hand and nicked along its edge, gleamed faintly despite its lack of polish. With lightning-fast movements that belied the sword's cumbersome appearance, he slashed at the exposed abdomens of the stunned orcs.

As the knight's sword sliced through the orcs with devastating efficiency, a series of spinning magical circles adorned with pentagrams appeared around the battlefield. "Heaven of ice and fire, combine and be sharp, hit them!" a voice commanded, and from each circle burst forth crystals enveloped in flames, bombarding the orcs with a barrage that culminated in explosive impacts. Like dominoes, the orcs fell one after another, the ground trembling slightly under the weight of their collapsing bodies. The air was filled with the scent of scorched earth and burnt flesh.

Just as the dust began to settle, another orc attempted a stealthy approach towards the knight from behind.

However, its movement was halted by a new figure—a woman wielding a long wooden staff. Dressed in a greyish blouse with a brown knit short shawl, black corset and brownish pants, her short dark hair was tied into short, low twin tails. At her hip hung a satchel, perhaps filled with magical artefacts or potions. "Not on my watch!" she declared, pointing her staff at the sneaky orc. From the tip of her staff, a light blue magical circle appeared, launching a crystal charged with electricity that pierced right through the orc, causing it to convulse as if electrocuted before falling lifeless.

"Thanks, sister," the knight expressed his gratitude, and the siblings positioned themselves back to back, ready to face any more threats together.

Ivan watched, utterly astounded by the unfolding events. Even amidst the chaos, he felt a moment of disbelief, stunned into silence. If not for the warmth of the fire nearby and the palpable heat emanating from his own adrenaline-fueled body, he might have thought he was dreaming or had somehow stumbled into a movie set.

Magic? Knights? Monsters? Everything sounded like it was ripped from the pages of a fantasy novel, but this is Ivan's reality now. As he stood there, taking in the scene, a mix of awe and confusion filled him.