An Eldorian? ... here?
In the village, a hushed silence fell as the astonishing scene unfolded. Every villager gaped in disbelief as Raiden, renowned as one of the village's mightiest warriors, found herself unexpectedly sent soaring through the air with a resounding slap to his cheeks.
"He just brushed off that maiden's punch like it was a gentle breeze!" A villager exclaimed, panic evident in their voice.
Mona, her eyes torn away from Raiden's tumbling form, fixated on Arthur with a mix of awe and bewilderment. "What in the world?... Just who is this guy?" She muttered under her breath, her gaze locked onto Arthur.
Arthur clenched his fist with a furrowed brow, his fingers curling as wisps of smoke oozed from his hand, effect of the punch he blocked earlier.
'She's definitely strong… but I didn't come here to gather allies, I should settle this quickly and head back to the village.' He muttered under his breath, his voice carrying a note of determination.
His gaze shifted from his smoldering fist to the villagers gathered before him, their faces etched with a mix of curiosity and apprehension.
Arthur cleared his throat, his eyes scanning each face in the crowd until they landed on one figure who stood apart, adorned in distinctive garb.
"There... we go," Arthur mused, his voice steady as he began to move closer to the elderly man who stood as the apparent leader among the villagers. The chief, his face etched with worry, quivered in response to Arthur's approach.
"I believe I was asking to speak to your chief," Arthur declared, his words ringing out with authority as he maintained his focus on the one who held the answers he sought.
As Arthur closed the gap between himself and the fearful chief, the old man's terror became palpable. His trembling legs gave way, and he tumbled to the ground in a panic. With desperation in his eyes, he cried out, his voice quivering with fear,
"Protect me! That's why you are in this village to protect us! Do your job!!!" His frantic plea reverberated through the village square.
The maidens, their faces resolute, wasted no time in responding to their chief's desperate call. Among them, Mona displayed incredible swiftness.
With a swift, fluid motion, she unsheathed her sword, and a vibrant blue energy enveloped her form, amplifying her already impressive agility.
Arthur took his final step toward the fallen chief, but before he could react, his gaze shifted slightly to Mona, who had closed the distance at astonishing speed. Her body leaned low, poised for action, her sword ready to strike.
Within moments, Arthur's hand seemed to conjure a small revolver, its metallic surface gleaming menacingly in the dim light. He swiftly leveled the weapon at the unsuspecting Mona, catching her off guard with this unexpected turn of events. There was no time for her to alter her trajectory.
Boom!
The deafening report of the gunshot reverberated through the air, and Mona's lithe form crumpled, her knee buckling as the bullet found its mark, piercing her shoulder. Pain seared through her, and crimson blood began to trickle from the open wound.
"What kind of attack was that... Get up... get up," Mona whispered, her voice trembling with both pain and determination.
She struggled to summon her strength, her fingers clutching the hilt of her sword as she sought to rise and continue the fight, the metallic tang of blood hanging in the air around her.
Arthur peered down at the wounded Mona, his grip on her hair sending discomfort rippling across her features. Before he could utter another word, his eyes fell upon a small, enigmatic red tattoo nestled in the midst of her cleavage. It left him momentarily speechless, a hint of intrigue mingling with the sternness in his gaze.
"Where did you get that mark?" Arthur inquired, his voice firm as he leaned closer to her, his eyes locked onto the mysterious tattoo, his curiosity piqued.
"Mona!" Isla's urgent cry shattered the tense silence. In response, Isla conjured a flurry of red-glowing magic lines that streaked toward Arthur, poised to protect her fallen comrade.
With lightning speed, Arthur relinquished his grip on Mona's hair and seemingly flickered, reappearing behind the village head.
In a blink, he had the elderly man in his clutches, his fingers tightening around the old man's throat. Panic and desperation etched across the village head's face as he struggled to break free from Arthur's iron grasp.
The villagers, despite having weapons at hand, recoiled in fear, their courage waning in the face of this mysterious and formidable adversary.
The collective sentiment seemed to be that if this man could withstand an attack from one of the maidens, then they stood little chance against him.
Fearful murmurs rippled through the onlookers as they hesitated, caught between their desire to protect their leader and their overwhelming trepidation.
Isla rushed to Mona's side, her concern evident in her voice as she asked, "Mona! Are you okay? Hold on, I'll heal you." Her skilled magic strings swiftly encircled Mona's injured shoulder, weaving their restorative magic to heal the wound as rapidly as possible.
Meanwhile, Arthur's grip remained unyielding around the village head's neck, his gaze torn between the two maidens. Confusion and anger battled within him as he muttered to himself, 'What is going on here? What is my property doing in another village?'
His eyes honed in on the distinctive mark of an Eldorian on Mona's chest, a mark that signified an unbreakable bond to their people, a bond that the goddess herself had ordained.
Once a woman has been summoned in the village, they are immediately blessed with the mark, this binds them to the village and increases their bonds with other Eldorians… but an Eldorian woman leaving her village to stay with another has never been heard of and was never ever supposed to be.
Arthur's frustration surged, and his glare intensified as he directed his harsh words at the trembling old man, "Don't test me, you bastard… why are you housing an Eldorian?!".