Ryan

Flowers were blooming, birds sang a melody of renewal, and the sun was shining brightly in the clear sky. The snow on the road and roofs of the small town of Neav had melted.

17-year-old Ryan stretched and yawned as he stepped out of his home, a smile spread across his face. He took a deep breath, inhaling the sweet scent of fresh flowers and earth. He wore his boots and headed to the barn to gather his tools.

"Guess that's it for the winter break," Ryan thought, his smile widening at the thought of returning to work. He picked up an axe and a bag. "First on the list..." he began to plan, but his thoughts were interrupted.

Before he could decide, he heard a voice calling out to him. It was Daniel, the 13-year-old son of the village chief, with a bowl cut and a missing tooth, running towards Ryan, breathing heavily.

"Boss, it's bad! The bulls are going crazy!" he exclaimed, slightly out of breath.

"Calm down and explain what happened." Ryan dropped his tools and knelt down to Daniel's level, placing a steadying hand on the boy's shoulder.

"I fed them with grass I found this morning. I didn't know they'd get mad, I swear!"

"Alright," Ryan patted his head. 

"I'll deal with it," he assured him before zooming off with immense power, moving faster than the wind. Ryan's mind focused sharply on the task ahead as he sprinted towards the chief's farm, leaving Daniel's panic behind.

The bulls were jumping around, hitting anything around them as if they had gone mad. The farmers were helpless in the situation.

"Grab some rope and prepare water, be ready to tie them up on my mark!" Ryan shouted to the farmers before jumping in to stop the bulls.

He grabbed a bull by its horn, stopped it in its tracks, and pinned it down. "Now!" The farmers hurried and tied the cow's legs together.

One of the farmers gently rubbed the neck of the bull behind the ear to calm it.

Ryan stood up, took a deep breath, and flexed his fingers, feeling the tension in his muscles ease. His eyes swept over the area, counting the bulls still thrashing in the field. "One down, seven to go," he muttered, exhaling slowly before locking onto his next target.

After the incident, Ryan could see Daniel being scolded by his mom. He watched the scene, feeling a twinge of sympathy. "Poor kid," he thought.

"Ryan..." As he was about to leave, he heard his name from a distance. He checked to find it was Fild, the village chief, and beside him were three figures. "You have visitors," Fild called out, his tone betraying a hint of unease. Ryan recognized their attire and frowned.

The sun was setting, showing the day was over, but not for Ryan. He was in Fild's home, sitting across from one of the visitors while the other two stood guard at the entrance.

Fild lit up the lantern, after which he placed a bottle and cup in front of the visitor, then took his seat a couple of spaces back. He glanced at Ryan, noticing the way the young man's eyes darkened with disgust, the usual calm replaced by simmering frustration.

The visitor was a man in his 30s, with brown hair and a scar across his closed left eye. He opened the bottle and poured himself a drink. He took a shot and grinned.

"Damn, ya make the best ale in the kingdom," he took another shot before facing the annoyed kid. "Ah, my bad... couldn't help m'self. Too good, ya know." He looked again and could see the veins bulging on Ryan's temple.

Ryan's jaw clenched as he forced a smile. His fists tightened, and his eyes narrowed as he glared at Fild, silently questioning why he allowed these men into his home. He took a slow, deep breath, trying to calm the fire in his chest, but the disgust lingered like a bad taste in his mouth.

"Are you here just for the drink, or what? Because if that's it, we have plenty to go around," Ryan interrupted, his voice tight.

"Ya mean it?" The man's eyes grew teary in mock appreciation, which only made Ryan angrier. Unable to contain his frustration, Ryan slammed his fist onto the table, splintering it in two.

The two guards rushed in, drew their blades, and pointed them at Ryan to protect the man. "Lock, Brit, stand down," the man dropped the cup, stood up, and dusted his clothes while taking another gulp from the bottle. "Kid's got a lotta fire in 'im; let 'im cook." They sighed and withdrew their blades.

"Hey kid, name's Hunt," the man introduced himself. "Bet ya know why we're here..." he corked the bottle and passed it to Lock. "No more games. Come with us. Ya got power in that little body of yours, an' we could use it." He stretched his hand out to Ryan.

Ryan slapped his hand away and stood up. "You've been coming here for two years now. How many times do I have to say it?" He looked at Fild. "Why did you even let them in?"

"They are imperial knights, and I'm an old man leading a small village. It's not like I have the power to drive them away..." Fild argued. "Besides, why not go with them? We don't want to see you rot in this village."

He stood up and patted Ryan's shoulder. "We'll be alright, even if you're not here. You've done enough for us already, Ryan. You should find a path that fits you."

"It's not just about the village..." Ryan took Fild's hand down. "It's about what I want and love to do." He turned to Hunt. "Tell Roy I'm not joining the knights, and I'm not leaving the village. I'll grow old and die on this land, and I'm not bothered by it one bit."

Hunt saw the look in his eyes and gave up. "Alright," he sighed, seeing the determination in Ryan's gaze. He faced his companions. "Let's go."

"Ah, before I forget..." he took a token out of his pocket and tossed it to Ryan. "If ya ever change yer mind, show that to any knight, an' ya'll be guided to us. Until then."

The three knights were seen out of the village by Fild and Ryan. "You really should have gone with them," Fild whined. "At least your strength would be put to better use than here."

"My strength is mine, and I'll use it however I wish," Ryan replied with a grin. "Like making a new table, right?" Fild chuckled. "Ha ha, I'm sorry about that."

The knights took camp a few kilometers from Neav. They sat surrounding the bonfire.

"Why did you give up so easily? That's not like you," Lock asked Hunt while stretching the bottle of ale to him.

Hunt, his left eye now open, rejected it and took out a cigarette from his cloak. He snapped his fingers to light it up and took a deep smoke. "He won't change his mind, even if his life were at stake. Hell, he probably doesn't even realize it, but he wouldn't change even if others' lives were on the line. That's what I saw in him." He replied and took another smoke. "The captain should give up on him."

The ember of his cigarette grew faintly. He exhaled slowly, the smoke curling into the air. "He's probably the kind of being that could go beyond existence to achieve his goals... he'll definitely be an icon of great good or evil."

The next day, Ryan left the village before dawn to avoid interruptions. He delved into the Neav woods, a forest a few hundred meters from the village.

Neav is a village known for its unique ale throughout the Arith Kingdom, which is capable of bringing joy even to the gloomiest of all. Ryan was in charge of gathering hard-to-get materials, such as firewood and wild herbs, from the Neav woods. 

The beasts in the forest rarely ventured close to him or his hut; he once crushed the skull of a black bear that dared to, had soup with its flesh, and hide from its skin. He continued to gather materials until noon.

He dropped his axe, breathing heavily and soaked in sweat. He wiped his face and could hear his muscles screaming, alerting him that he was reaching his limits, so he decided to take a break.

He took a soak in the open-air hot spring behind his hut. He remembered the day he first stumbled upon the spring, its steam rising through the trees like a hidden treasure. He could feel his muscles relaxing, as his eyelids became heavier before drifting off to sleep. 

He had a peaceful sleep, not bothered by anything around him. But something in the back of his mind kept gnawing at him, an unshakable sense of unease he chose to ignore.

Ryan woke up after an hour, feeling refreshed, got out of the bath, and stretched out. He dressed up and packed the materials, excited to return. But as he left the premises of the forest, the smile on his face faltered, replaced by a dark gloom as his eyes caught sight of the horizon.

In front of him was a massive and terrifyingly dark smoke rising from the direction of Neav. Ryan's heart dropped. Without thinking, he dropped the materials and bolted towards the village, his legs moving faster than ever before.

The earth underneath was crushed by his weight, and trees and other obstacles along his path were blown away by the wind pressure surrounding him.

He was moving at a speed beyond any he had ever achieved in his life. But all he could think of at the moment was the village. "What's happening?" "Is everyone alright?" "Can I make it in time?" "Please... please," he pleaded with every step, pushing himself harder.

After a few seconds, he could see the village entrance from afar. He took a leap into the air to break his momentum and could see the village burning from above. His heart sank further as the full horror came into view. He landed in the village, creating a small crater.

Breathing heavily, his heart beating loudly, the smell of smoke was strong, but it couldn't cover the overpowering stench of blood and burnt flesh.

His heart raced as he looked around in a hurry. The buildings were burning, the ground smeared with blood, and he could see the charred remains of humans all around.

"No... no, this can't be happening..." He punched himself in the face so hard he got a nosebleed. His eyes were red and teary. "FILD, TREVOR, MISS PAN, ANYONE!!!" Ryan's voice cracked with desperation, echoing through the burning ruins, but only silence answered him.

As he was about to start searching, he heard a growl not far from his position. He rushed to the noise, but wasn't expecting what he found.

"Fild... is... that... you...?" Ryan's voice trembled as he saw the person in front of him. He looked like Fild but had red pupils, claws, and fangs. He was covered in blood and looked drained, like he could fall at any time.

"You're Fild, right? What happened here? Why do you look like that?" Ryan asked, his voice trembling, but all he received as an answer was a weak growl.

His eyes were full of tears, ready to burst out. He tried to get closer, but before he could move, a blade passed through Fild from head to down, splitting him in half.

Ryan's mind went blank, and all he could do was stare. Behind the dead Fild was a red-haired young man with soulless ember eyes.

"Damn, that was stressful," the young man muttered to himself. "Kept running around the building like a rat." He dusted his blade and looked at Ryan. "Guess you're the last one."

"The last one?" Ryan thought in disbelief. Before he could utter a word, the young man passed by him, and Ryan felt a cold sensation spread through his chest. He touched his chest and looked at his palm to find it painted in red. His eyes rolled back, and he fell to the ground, soaked in his own blood.

"That's it? Pathetic... fell in a single strike," the man complained. "Whatever. My job here is done." He turned around to leave but suddenly stopped.

Ryan was in front of him, standing, his eyes blank, and his bleeding had stopped. "Where do you think you're going?" he asked, his voice low and menacing.

The man was surprised for a lot of reasons; Ryan was supposed to be behind him, not in front, and "You can talk?"

"I'll kill you," Ryan growled, his voice filled with a cold fury.