The Same Nightmares

Little Vir woke up after being knocked unconscious and covered in sand, dirt, and black debris from the roofs of destroyed and burnt houses.

Some people were still running to and fro in search of safety. Vir, with his sad gaze and one swollen eye, stood there, searching for something with his blurred vision.

Slash!

A man who was holding his baby was killed by the tail of a wyvern. The man collapsed after his back was perforated by the wyvern's tail, like a large nail through paper.

The man's baby was thrown from the man's arms. And before the hysterically crying baby fell to the ground, another wyvern quickly grabbed the baby.

One snatch and the baby was in the wyvern's stomach.

Little Vir wanted to scream at the sight, but he could not. He felt his whole body crumbling, and he couldn't even hear his own voice amidst the screams of the others, or the explosions of the dragon's fireballs.

The shouts of those people seemed to have damaged the six-year-old Vir's hearing. Or the sky-high cries and screams at the end of their deaths. It all sounded like the buzzing of a thousand bees to the boy, and he had no idea which one to listen to.

The six-year-old boy saw a 25-year-old woman on the left side. She was struggling desperately from the clutches of a rider who was trying to rape her.

Vir stared impassively, his gaze growing larger and larger, then his scream boomed out, "Mom...!"

Slash!

A woman who ran alongside her husband died with her neck severed, her head rolling on the ground, while her severed neck sprayed blood in all directions before finally collapsing to the ground.

The husband growled and shouted as he hugged his wife's headless body, embracing her with great anger and grief.

"Bastard...!" the man shouted.

He grabbed a sword lying on the ground, stood up, and swung it at the wyvern that had slashed his wife's throat with its sword-tipped tail.

"I kill you!" he shouted, swinging the sword in his hand. "I kill you, bastard…!"

Thud!

Unfortunately, the man was unable to do anything. As soon as he raised the sword, the rider riding the wyvern fired his crossbow, and the arrow pierced right through his chest.

The man collapsed beside his wife's body. He seemed to be about to say something as he reached out to his wife tremblingly, but not a single word came out of his mouth. His hand fell to the ground before he could reach his wife, he died with his eyes wide open.

Vir again screamed for his mother, who was unable to escape the rape of the rider. At least, there were other riders there who seemed to be waiting their turn to rape Vir's mother now.

They were laughing, two of them holding the poor woman, while the other one crushed her with his disgusting demonic lust.

Little Vir felt his whole body become hot as if it was doused in hot oil. Ignoring the wounds on his body, even his own fatigue and fear, he struggled to get out from under the debris.

"Mom!" he shouted, again and again as he continued to struggle.

While at the edge of his vision, his mother was screaming from being raped in a very rough way. Even so, she tried to resist, trying to move her body, or hitting the men to get away from her.

Unfortunately, the more the woman screamed in desperation, the more barbaric the riders became.

"Mom...!" Vir finally managed to get out of the pile of dirt and sand and sprinted to get close to his mother.

Groar...!

Little Vir ran with his ears covered as he heard the terrifying roar of a dragon that seemed so close to him.

And then...

Kaboom!

A fireball thrown by a dracael destroyed a house, knocking over Vir who was running next to the house.

"Mom...!"

Vir was knocked to the ground. He choked and vomited blood. Although his vision was getting blurry, he still tried to crawl to his mother. He wanted to help his mother from being raped by the riders.

"Mom...!" he shouted again in a voice that was swallowed up by the other voices around him that were so noisy and deafening.

Little Vir was like a wounded snake, slithering slowly over the ground, with one arm outstretched towards his screaming mother under the weight of one rider, and the grip of two others.

"Please," Vir said in a weak voice. "Don't hurt my mom..." The hand finally drooped to the ground.

The explosion of the fireball thrown by the same dracael shook the area. Scattered dirt and sand covered the poor boy's body.

The six-year-old boy couldn't see anything anymore amidst his intermittent breathing, the sound ringing loudly as if his ears were no longer functioning. He wanted to get up, wanted to go to his mother, wanted to help her, but he could not.

Then it became quiet, dark, and very still.

Vir didn't know how long he had been unconscious, half-buried in dirt and sand, not knowing at all.

But what he did know was that once he woke up and stood up with all the pain in his body, Vir found no one around him but destruction in almost every corner of the area. In fact, thick black smoke was still billowing from some of the ruins of his neighbors' houses.

He could only find thousands of corpses scattered here and there. The bodies of men and women, even children were lying in terrible conditions.

Their condition was absolutely horrific. Some died with holes in their chests, or even in their faces, some died with severed limbs. And there were many more who died with burnt bodies, some with melted flesh.

No one in the area was still alive, except for the boy.

Vir saw his mother's body at the other end. He limped over to his mother's corpse.

The six-year-old boy saw dried blood that seemed to be coming out of his mother's crotch.

He tried not to cry.

On his mother's chest was a sword, which was probably the sword that had ended his mother's life after being raped by evil men.

Vir knelt beside his dead mother, which her eyes wide open. His head jerked and looked up at the high sky with a long, heartbreaking scream.

"God...!"

Vir woke up with one hand reaching forward. His face was pale and sweaty, as was his body, and he was breathing heavily.

"Mom?"

He swallowed and looked around. Then he found the nine-year-old girl sitting against the side of his cart.

"You had a bad dream?" the nine-year-old girl asked him.

Vir swallowed again, rubbing his face. This was the umpteenth time the same dream had come to him. Dreams about the destruction of his village long ago, when he was a child.

Sensing that Vir wouldn't answer her question, the little girl resumed her activities.

She drew a wyvern shape similar to the one Vir had killed last night, on the blank paper that was part of the thick book in her lap. And the pencil was just a piece of charcoal that she took from the bonfire beside Vir earlier.

Although it was already quite light around him, Vir was sure it was still early in the morning.

He reached for his leather pouch and took a sip of the redbrew inside. Afterward, he got up and straightened his tools, storing them in his cart.

His gaze fell on the big, thick book in the little girl's lap, on the picture of the wyvern the girl had drawn.