In a distant world far beyond our time, Humanity triumphed, death ceased to chime. Freed from the shackles of age, they rose, As technology advanced, their knowledge grows. Boundless exploration, progress untamed, Inventions, discoveries, a world unrestrained. But as their development soared to the skies, A darkness emerged, shrouded in lies. In their relentless quest for greatness and more, Something had shifted, opening a door. A cataclysmic force, their own doing, Humanity's end, the seeds they'd been sowing. From the ashes and ruin, a remnant arose, Survivors, now gifted, from head to toes. Their numbers diminished, but power gained, A transformation in numerals, forever ingrained. These survivors, now marked, a rare breed, United by their symbols, they learned to heed. Harnessing their newfound abilities with grace, The Numbered, they're called, a new human race. Together, they strive to rebuild and restore, A world once ravaged, now healing its core. With the wisdom of ages and powers untold, The Numbered must learn to reshape and uphold.
"What would you say humanity's greatest flaw is? Gluttony? Lust? Greed? Or Malice?..." These were the questions we pondered for years, yet in the end, what led us to the brink of destruction was something we never could have imagined. A blinding explosion of immense proportions, unlike anything the world had ever seen before, engulfed the planet, targeting only humans. The light attempted to affect anything else but was repelled, leaving us to realise that the Earth was truly disgusted with the way we had been treating it for so long. In the aftermath, only a hundred of us survived, and it was excruciating for us to try and rebuild our lives from the ashes of our civilization. But we were determined to make the most of this second chance at redemption, and as we struggled to rebuild, we discovered that something extraordinary had happened. Each of us had been branded with a unique number containing different powers, transforming us into gods.
The world had been given a fresh start, and it was up to us to make the most…
"Grandpa Rowen, we heard all this already," one of the kids interrupts, with a bored expression on his face.
"Yeah, you said this like an infinite amount of times," the girl next to him adds, waving her arms around.
The other kids chime in, all agreeing that they want to hear something new.
The inside of the tent is dimly lit, and the soft patter of rain can be heard outside. The kids huddle together on blankets, their eyes fixed on Grandpa Rowen to tell them another story.
"Tell us about the numbered already," The boy says, tapping his foot.
The kids start to bicker, each one trying to outdo the other by shouting out the name of their favourite numbered.
"Oh, what about Shirley the Medusa?"
"I want to hear about Logan and his dark army."
"No, Logan is too scary!"
"What about Elijah the undefeated?"
"No, we heard about him so many times."
The kids start to argue, their voices overlapping and jumbled.
Grandpa Rowan intervenes. "Alright, kids, calm down. Since you can't decide on anything together, I will pick one of you, and that will be it."
The kids groan in unison, but Rowan is resolute. He looks around the group, studying each child's face carefully, and then points his finger at a black-haired boy. "Lucas! Who do you want to hear about?"
Lucas looks surprised but then quickly composes himself. "Ummmm… how about Evgeniy?"
"Oh yeah, that's a good one."
"I wouldn't mind listening to him either," said the kids, agreeing.
Rowan nods. "Well then, listen closely." He begins to tell the story of Evgeniy, the God Killer, his voice growing louder and more animated as the tale progresses.
The survivors of the catastrophic event were given two gifts - a second chance at life and incredible powers. These gifts were enough to inspire hope in the hearts of the remaining humans and drive them towards building a better future. They vowed to create a utopia where people could live free of fear and hunger, and work together to build a better world.
But one man was driven by a different kind of desire - a lust for power. He saw the numbers on his fellow survivors' bodies as a means to achieve this power, and he embarked on a ruthless quest to obtain them. He killed countless fellow humans, each time taking their number and adding it to his own. The legends say that his hair turned red from the blood of so many gods, and his charade caused distrust and suspicion among the other gods.
As the man known as Evgeniy gained more power, he grew more paranoid and ruthless. He saw all other gods as a threat to his own power, and he began to systematically eliminate them, one by one. The utopia that the humans had hoped to build was destroyed by one man's greed and thirst for power. Despite this setback, the other gods continued to work towards creating a better future for humanity. They knew that their powers came with a responsibility to use them wisely and for the greater good. And so, they persevered, fighting against the darkness that threatened to consume them, and working towards a future where humanity could thrive in peace and harmony.
Rowan looks at the group of children, a sombre expression on his face. "But he is keeping himself hidden," he says gravely. "The last time he was ever spotted was 1000 years ago. Still waiting for a moment to strike."
The children exchange uneasy glances, their faces reflecting the fear and uncertainty that Rowan's words have brought to the surface. One of the boys speaks up, his voice hesitant. "But...he's not coming back, is he?"
Rowan shakes his head. "Who knows? All we know is that we should not follow that man's example. We should all work together, help each other, and use our powers for the greater good."
He pauses, looking around at the children. "You all have the power to make a difference in this world. To create a better future for yourselves and for others. But with great power comes great responsibility. You must use your powers wisely and for the greater good, or risk falling prey to the same kind of greed and lust for power that consumed Evgeniy."
As Rowan drew the captivating tale to a close, the persistent rain that had been drumming against the tent throughout the story finally ceased. Outside, the storm clouds dissipated, and the sun's radiant beams broke through, casting a warm, golden light that filled the tent with a sense of newfound hope and wonder.
As the children eagerly left the tent, the warm summer breeze danced around them. They scattered in all directions, some running straight to their houses while others went to their parents who stood near the tent. The sun cast its golden rays upon the small village, which consisted of twenty modest shacks nestled within the embrace of a U-shaped mountain field. Birds sang cheerfully, and the distant sounds of laughter and chatter filled the air.
Lucas sprinted towards his home, which stood a little further away from the rest of the village. The scent of freshly baked bread greeted him as he approached the small wooden house. He pushed open the door and found his mother, Hannah, holding his little brother Jack in her arms.
Hannah looked up from Jack, her eyes lighting up as she saw her eldest son. "Lucas, you're back so soon," she exclaimed with surprise. "I thought you went to see Rowan."
Lucas's face flushed slightly with embarrassment. "He was a bit tired today, Mom," he replied sheepishly. "I guess we wore him out with all our fucking questions."
Hannah's eyes widened in shock, and she gently scolded her son. "Lucas! Don't talk like that, especially when Jacke is here. Do you want him to grow up to be disrespectful?"
Lucas rolled his eyes, but couldn't help smiling at his baby brother. "It's Jack, not Jake, Mom. Are you feeling alright?"
Hannah sighed and adjusted Jack in her arms. "I'm fine, dear. Just tired. These sleepless nights with your little brother are taking their toll on me."
Lucas, noticing the exhaustion in his mother's eyes, urged her to take a break. "Come on, Mom, please get some rest."
Hannah furrowed her brow, her thoughts consumed with the endless list of chores that needed to be done. "But I haven't cleaned the house yet," she protested.
Lucas glanced around the room, taking in the spotless floors and neatly arranged furniture. With a reassuring smile, he replied, "You already did, Mom. Everything looks perfect. Just take it easy for a while."
I'm a 10-year-old boy, living with my mom and my little brother Jack, who just turned one. My mom has this strange curse where she forgets a lot of things. She remembers her name, my name, and sometimes Jack's too, but that's about it. It can be frustrating at times, especially when she forgets important things like feeding Jack. Because of her forgetfulness, I can't leave the house for too long. She always has this strong urge to clean, and I worry about what might happen if I'm not there to take care of Jack. One day, I came home from playing with my friends to find my mom scrubbing the floor, her hands bleeding and Jack crying out in hunger. It was a disturbing sight, but despite these challenges, we try to live our lives as normally as possible. We live in a small village surrounded by mountains, and sometimes I wonder what's beyond them. My mom told me that my dad used to know a lot about the world, but for some reason, she won't help me learn more about him, even when she's feeling well. One day, when I grow up, I hope to leave this village and explore the world for myself. But for now, I have to focus on taking care of my family and making sure we have everything we need. Despite the difficulties, I'm grateful for my family and the love we share, and I'll do whatever it takes to keep us together.
Lucas approaches his little brother Jack, who's sitting quietly in his crib. "Hey Jack, how are you? Was everything okay while I was gone?" he asks, trying to engage him in conversation.
But Jack just stares back at him blankly, not making a sound. Lucas's smile falters for a moment, and he can't help but wonder why his brother is so different from other infants.
"Jack is nearly always so quiet," he thinks to himself. "The only time he makes a sound is when he needs to eat or be changed. At least he's easy to take care of."
But Lucas quickly shakes off these thoughts and brings back his smile. "Here you go Jack, something nice to eat," he says, leaning in with a spoon of porridge to feed him. "I hope Mom gets better soon"
To his surprise, Jack turns to him and smiles, and Lucas can't help but feel a sense of warmth and connection with his little brother.
But just as he settles in to enjoy the moment, boys from last time come running back to his door, shouting excitedly. "Hey Lucas, you better come quick! We have newcomers!" one of them says.
"Hurry up, I don't want to miss them!" the other adds.
"Newcomers?" Lucas asks, confused but intrigued. He quickly finishes feeding Jack and rushes out the door, eager to see what's going on.
"Our village is completely isolated from the rest of the world, so it's quite surprising that there's someone here to visit," Lucas thinks to himself.
Excitedly, the children gather around the group of newcomers as they approach. The boys can't help but gawk at the assortment of weapons that the travellers carry.
"Wow, look at them!"
"How many weapons do they need?
Lucas's eyes widen as he takes in the group of travellers that have just arrived. There are five of them in total, each looking vastly different from the other. He notices an old man with a long beard, dressed in a robe with intricate patterns and symbols embroidered on it. The three grown-up men are wearing leather armour, with swords and bows slung over their backs. The youngest member of the group is a boy with striking red hair, about Lucas's age, wearing a simple tunic and trousers with a huge sword on his back.
Lucas can't help but feel curious about the newcomers. "Who are they?" he wonders silently.
Just then, Rowan approaches the group, extending a friendly greeting. "Greetings," he says. "What might be the occasion for this sudden arrival?"
The old man responds warmly. "Greetings, my name is Chéng," he says. "These are my companions. We're vagabonds passing through."
"Vagabonds?" Rowan repeats, looking surprised. "Now that's a surprise."
Chéng glanced around the bustling village, taking note of its fertile soil and the potential it held for his people. "We'll only be here for a short while. We need to gather supplies for our next journey, and I saw that this village is rich in resources."
Rowan nodded in agreement. "I appreciate that. I'll ask the others to gather some food and water for you."
Chéng furrowed his brow, concern etched across his face. "That sounds great, but how much would we owe you?"
Rowan looked puzzled for a moment. "Owe me?"
Chéng clarified, "Well, you know, how much will it cost?"
Understanding dawned on Rowan's face. "Aah! You're talking about money. Don't worry, we don't take money here. We're happy to help your people for free."
Chéng hesitated, not wanting to take advantage of their generosity. "Really? But I can't just take everything and not give you anything in return."
Rowan smiled warmly. "I believe you're from the Kingdom, right?"
Chéng confirmed, "Yes, that's correct."
Rowan continued, "Most villages in this region don't use currency. We try to help one another out of kindness."
Chéng raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"
"Believe me," Rowan said with a hint of nostalgia, "I used to be an adventurer myself. I have a good knowledge of this world. I've even encountered some of the Numbers in person."
Chéng's eyes widened in intrigue. "Oh really? Which ones?"
Rowan's eyes sparkled with excitement as he began to recount his tales. "Well..."
Just as Rowan began to share his stories, the children in the village were attempting to strike up a conversation with a red-haired boy who had recently arrived.
One of the kids marvelled at the weapon, eyes wide with curiosity. "Wow, how big is that sword?"
The red-haired boy replied, visibly annoyed, "Big enough to cut you in pieces."
Another kid chimed in, equally captivated. "Can you even pick it up?"
The red-haired boy scoffed, gripping the hilt tightly. "What kind of question is that? I'm quite literally holding it."
The kid couldn't help but ask, "Why is your hair so red?"
The red-haired boy rolled his eyes, wondering why he had to deal with this barrage of questions.
Lucas observed the newcomer closely, noting his maturity despite being around the same age as the other children. The scars that adorned his body hinted at a life filled with hardship and struggle. Lucas spotted an emblem that had fallen from the red-haired boy's possession, and instinctively reached to pick it up. In an instant, his arm was forcefully grabbed.
The red-haired boy hissed, barely containing his fury. "Don't you dare touch that!"
His grip was as unyielding as iron, causing the bones in Lucas's hand to emit an unsettling crackle. Despite the searing pain, Lucas managed to suppress any outward reaction, his eyes glistening with only a few unshed tears.
The red-haired boy furrowed his brow in confusion. "Huh, you seem used to pain. Let me guess - do your parents beat you?"
Lucas blinked, taken aback by the question. "What?"
The boy continued, "No, it doesn't seem that way. I would see marks on you if that were the case. Maybe they use you for free labour. You work around the house, sweating and bleeding, while your parents just lay there, not caring about your well-being."
In that moment, Lucas acted out of instinct rather than anger, head-butting the red-haired boy and causing him to stumble back with a nosebleed.
The red-haired boy snarled, blood streaming down his face. "You…son…of…a…BITCH!" he shouted, fury boiling over. "I WILL BUTCHER YOU!" With a swift motion, he drew his sword, eyes fixed on Lucas.
Chéng's voice cut through the tension like a knife. "Armen, that's enough!"
At his command, the red-haired boy immediately ceased his aggression and sheathed his sword.
Chéng turned to Rowan, a note of apology in his tone. "Rowan, I apologise for my companion's behaviour."
Rowan dismissed the incident with a wave of his hand. "Oh, don't worry about it. No one got seriously hurt, right? Boys will be boys."
Chéng nodded but continued, "I feel it's necessary to warn you that Armen isn't a normal child. His exceptional abilities have given him a considerable ego. I will ensure he is disciplined later and learns that being special doesn't make him superior to others. Your young friend Lucas is quite interesting as well. Is he your grandson?"
Rowan chuckled. "Oh, no, not really. Well, I suppose I am somewhat like a grandfather to him, though we're not blood-related. This boy's name is Lucas, and I would like to apologise on his behalf as well."
Chéng raised an eyebrow. "For what? That was merely an act of self-defence. What concerns me, however, is how a child like Lucas could manage to harm Armen."
Rowan furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?"
Chéng stopped explaining "Nevermind. Let's not dwell on this any longer and complicate the situation further."
Rowan glanced up as the supplies arrived, the townspeople and vagabonds working together to load the wagon for Chéng's group. The air was filled with camaraderie and cooperation, their shared purpose binding them together.
As the group settled onto the wagon, ready to depart, Chéng turned to Rowan with a nod of appreciation. "Rowan, you're a good man. Take care of yourself."
Rowan returned the sentiment with a warm smile. "You too, Chéng."
With that, the group set off, leaving Rowan and Lucas to watch as they disappeared into the distance. Suddenly, Rowan grabbed Lucas by the ear, his expression stern.
Rowan demanded, "You have five seconds to tell me what happened."
Wincing in pain, Lucas hastily explained. "Ow! He started it first. I saw that he dropped something and wanted to give it back to him, but he grabbed me instead and started insulting me."
Rowan released Lucas, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "Lucas, you're better than that. You shouldn't let people's words get to you like that. We were lucky they were such understanding individuals. Did you see how many weapons they had? We must never provoke people like that. Never. Lucas, if you want us to be safe, if you want your mother to be safe, don't act so impulsively."
Lucas nodded.
Later, Lucas made his way back to his family's humble abode, the day's events weighing on his mind. He quietly entered the house, careful not to disturb his mother who was fast asleep, her face showing signs of exhaustion. A soft, affectionate smile spread across Lucas's face as he watched her sleep, knowing that she worked tirelessly to provide for them.
His thoughts turned to his younger brother, Jack, and he decided to check on him. As he approached the small room they shared, he found the boy wide awake, sitting up in bed, and staring at the wall with a distant, silent gaze. Lucas couldn't help but feel a pang of concern and sadness for his brother, who seemed to be trapped in his own little world.
Determined to draw Jack out of his shell, Lucas tried everything he could think of to engage him in play. He tickled him, made funny faces, and even tried to invent silly games, hoping to elicit a reaction from the withdrawn child. But despite Lucas's best efforts, Jack remained silent and unresponsive, his gaze never wavering.
As time wore on, Lucas's frustration began to mount, and he couldn't help but feel disheartened by his brother's lack of reaction. In a final attempt to coax a smile from Jack, Lucas sighed and asked, "Come on, why can't you laugh, just this one time?"
He playfully prodded Jack once more, but instead of the desired response, the boy simply closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep. Defeated, Lucas let out a heavy sigh and muttered, "What a drag," before climbing into his own bed.
As he lay there, staring at the ceiling, Lucas couldn't help but worry about his brother's future. He vowed silently to himself that he would continue to try and reach Jack, no matter how long it took. And with that resolve, Lucas closed his eyes, letting the day's exhaustion carry him into a fitful slumber.
A sudden, piercing scream tore through the night, jolting Lucas from his restless slumber. His heart pounded in his chest as an icy sense of dread crept through him.
What was that? he wondered, his mind racing with fear.
Cautiously peering out of the front door, Lucas's eyes widened in horror at the sight before him. The once-peaceful village had been transformed into a nightmarish tableau of chaos and destruction, with flames devouring the homes he had known all his life. Panic-stricken villagers raced through the streets, their desperate cries for help echoing through the darkness.
Lucas sprang into action, his thoughts focused on protecting his family. He scooped up Jack and shook his mother awake, urgency lacing his voice. "Mom, Mom! Wake up! We need to go NOW!"
Hannah's eyes fluttered open, confusion and concern etched on her face. "Lucas, what's wrong?"
"No time to explain," Lucas insisted, pulling her to her feet. "Please, we need to run. It's not safe."
As they fled their home, the sight of the burning village left Hannah speechless. "What happened here?" she asked, her voice trembling.
"I don't know," Lucas admitted, his own fear threatening to overtake him.
The small family navigated the fiery chaos, dodging burning debris and avoiding the gruesome scene unfolding around them. As they attempted to escape through the village entrance, they spotted Rowan on his knees, begging for mercy before a group of menacing figures.
Rowan pleaded with the attackers, his voice desperate and strained. "Please, I beg you. We can give you whatever you want, just stop taking these people's lives. They've done nothing wrong."
The invader sneered at the old man. "You've got it all wrong. We don't want you to give us anything. We only want to own your land, and you're not needed here anymore."
With a malevolent grin, Adam lifted his blood-stained sword high above his head, his eyes glinting with sadistic delight. With a swift, powerful motion, he brought the blade down, splitting Rowan's skull with a sickening crunch.
The splatter of blood and grey matter sprayed across the men, one of whom laughed maniacally at his companion's viciousness. "Well, Adam, you could've at least put more force into your swing. It's almost a pity to see him still drawing ragged breaths."
Adam's grin widened. "I'm just curious if a man with no brain can tell if he's dead or not."
The man snorted. "And how will you find that out? Ask him?"
Adam laughed, the sound chilling in its callousness. "Didn't think of that!"
Unable to hold back any longer, Lucas cried out in anguish. "GRANDPA ROWAN!!"
One of the invaders cocked his head, listening intently. "Did you hear that?"
Adam smirked. "Of course. That kid's an idiot, revealing his position like that."
He glanced in the direction of the cry. "Do you want to go kill him?"
Adam shook his head, his grin not fading. "No, let's give him a head start."
Hannah grabbed Lucas by the arm, pulling him and Jack along as they ran. Panic filled her eyes as she realised that the village was surrounded, with nowhere to run. Spotting a barrel used for cleaning horse manure, she made a quick decision.
"Honey, I need you to hold your breath," she told Lucas urgently.
She opened the lid, indicating to Lucas where they should hide. With some hesitation, he climbed inside, holding his brother tightly.
"Mom, what about you?" Lucas asked, worry etched on his face.
Hannah tried to smile reassuringly. "You don't have to worry about me, sweetheart. I'll find somewhere to hide. Right now, I need you to stay hidden with Jack and not make a sound, okay?"
Lucas nodded. "Alright, Mom."
She closed the lid and ran off, leaving Lucas and Jack concealed in the barrel.
Inside, Lucas held his brother in his arms, trying to keep him from being covered in the foul-smelling manure. He peered through a gap in the barrel, his thoughts racing.
"It really stinks in here," he thought, grimacing at the sensation of the filth running down his back. "I can feel it seeping into my clothes, and it's like we're almost sinking in this cramped space. I just need to hold on and survive with Jack."
Lucas strained to hear the muffled voices just outside the barrel, his heart pounding in his chest as he held Jack tightly.
"Are you sure you don't want to hunt them down?"
"I've lost the enthusiasm."
"What, did you grow soft all of a sudden?"
"No, it's just that I used most of my energy taking advantage of the village women."
"I hope you at least chose actual women this time, right?"
"Well... more or less."
"What do you mean, more or less?"
"I have a preference for them when they're not yet ripe."
"You're disgusting."
"Whatever. Besides, you know no one is getting away, right? Adam is one of our strongest men, and he can easily catch anyone."
"Speaking of him, he managed to catch that woman, but not the kid."
Lucas felt a chill run down his spine. Tears started to form in his eyes as he tried to control his breathing.
"Well, I'm sure we can find him. Also, do you think I can have a go after Adam?"
"I thought you were out of energy, you lazy bastard?"
"I always make time for women."
"Unbelievable. But you do know that Adam doesn't share his playthings, right? Once he's finished, he'll definitely kill her."
"Fine, whatever."
"By the way, our boss said that we should get rid of these barrels of scat. We need to take them away from this village and bury them."
"Can't we just burn them?"
"No, that'll cause too much pollution. We can't risk that."
"Alright, then."
As the goons gathered the barrels, they grumbled about the mess and the nuisance of the task. Unbeknownst to them, they heaved the very barrel that concealed Lucas and Jack onto the wagon, adding it to the growing stack.
With the barrels secured, the goons climbed onto the wagon, and with a crack of the reins, the horses began to move. The wagon jostled over the uneven ground, each bump causing the barrels to creak and shift. Lucas tightened his grip on Jack, doing his best to keep his younger brother safe and shielded from the foul contents of the barrel.
As the wagon rolled away from the ravaged village, Lucas listened to the fading sounds of their home, His heart heavy with fear and uncertainty. Despite the terror and heartache, He clung to hope, silently vowing that they would survive and one day avenge the lives that had been lost.
Meanwhile in the village Adam's posture straightened as the boss approached, his voice carrying both respect and relief. "Hey boss, you're finally here."
The bald man with grey skin and brown eyes strode confidently toward Adam, his black robe flowing behind him. A metal mask covered his mouth, with tubes filled with green fluid snaking out of it, lending him an air of menace.
"I need your report on how everything went," the masked man demanded, his tone firm.
Adam didn't hesitate to respond. "Sure. The invasion was successful, with no losses and... almost everyone captured."
The masked man's brow furrowed, an expression of disapproval flickering across his face. "Almost everyone?"
Adam shifted uncomfortably, then continued. "Well... you see, there was this woman with two children who were the last to be captured. We caught the woman, but we couldn't find the children."
The image of Hannah's decapitated head mounted on a stick flashed before Adam's eyes, but he didn't mention it to his superior.
"So just children, is that right?" the masked man inquired, his voice tinged with impatience.
Adam nodded. "Yes, that's right."
The man considered this for a moment, his expression softening. "Well then, there's not really anything to worry about. After all... even if they escape, it's not like they'll survive out there for long."
As a sinister grin appeared on Adam's face, the two men shared a dark laugh, unaware of the determination burning within the hearts of the young siblings hidden in a barrel of scat.
The invader grumbled, clearly unhappy with the task at hand. "Maaaaaan, why do we have to do this?"
His friend rolled his eyes, replying curtly, "Someone has to do it."
"But I mean, like, why us of all people?" He complained, a whiny tone creeping into his voice.
His friend, visibly annoyed, shot back, "Well, maybe if you started thinking with your brain and not your dick all the time, then maybe you wouldn't have to."
He smirked, unrepentant. "Well, it's not my fault I have bigger balls than you."
"That's not what I meant—" He started to retort, only to be interrupted by an arrow suddenly piercing his head with a sickening thud.
"What the fuck?" The invader yelped, his bravado vanishing in an instant. Panicked, he stopped the wagon and stumbled off, sword in hand.
He stood up shakily, scanning his surroundings with wide eyes. "Who's there? Show yourself, you bastard."
Before he could react, another arrow found its mark, this time in his crotch. Invader's agonised scream echoed through the air.
"Well, well, well, look who we have here," Chéng's voice rang out, dripping with contempt. "A pathetic-looking bandit who just lost his manhood. Good shot, Ben. I don't think he'll recover from that."
A man with brown hair and a bow stepped out of the shadows, a satisfied grin on his face.
Gasping through the pain, The invader spat out, "WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU PEOPLE!?"
Chéng's eyes narrowed as he addressed the terrified goon. "You're one of those men who just slaughtered that lovely village. That made me and my friends really angry, you know? So, to ease our frustration, how about we just kill a couple of you bastards? I think that sounds fair."
Desperate, The man began to plead. "Wait, wait! I'll pay you. I'll give you everything I own, just please don't kill me!" Tears streamed down his face, his voice cracking.
Chéng shook his head, unyielding. "What you've done cannot be replaced with money. Even your pathetic life is still not enough for all the suffering you've caused. Armen, please finish the job."
The man's face contorted in terror, stammered, "Wait, wait, let's talk this through—" His words were cut short by a sickening crunch as Armen stomped on his head, reducing it to a pulpy mass.
Chéng exhaled deeply, a savage satisfaction in his voice. "Woo, did you feel that? Felt good, didn't it?"
Ben glanced toward the barrels. "Should we look inside?"
Chéng dismissed the suggestion with a wave of his hand. "There's no point. It's probably just horse shit."
Ben, still curious, replied, "I'll check, just in case."
Chéng shrugged, indifferent. "Do whatever you want."
Ben wrinkled his nose as he opened the first lid. "Oh, that stinks so much!" He moved on to the next barrel and lifted the lid. "Oh, this is even worse than the other one."
Chéng rolled his eyes. "Ben, I think you should stop now. I told you there's nothing but horse shit in there."
Ben's voice suddenly rose in alarm. "There's a kid inside!"
Chéng's eyes widened. "What?"
The group turned their attention to Ben, who explained, "I think he's unconscious."
Chéng urged him to act quickly. "What are you waiting for? Get him out of there!"
Ben carefully removed Lucas from the barrel and noticed another child inside. "There's another one with him!"
Chéng frowned, puzzled. "Why would two kids be inside the barrel?"
Ben placed Lucas and Jack on the ground, both still unconscious.
Chéng's eyes narrowed. "It's that same boy."
Ben hesitated. "Should I wake him up?"
Chéng nodded. "Yes, we need to know what happened."
Ben gently shook Lucas in an attempt to rouse him. Slowly, Lucas's eyes fluttered open.
Lucas slowly sat up, rubbing his eyes as he tried to get his bearings. His throat felt scratchy and dry, and his head was pounding. His heart raced as he searched for his younger brother, Jack. "Jack?" he called out, his voice breaking as he spotted him lying next to him, covered in filth.
Chéng's eyes furrowed as he assessed the situation. He turned to the man checking on Jack, and asked with urgency in his voice, "Ethan, how is the kid?"
The blonde man looked up at Chéng, his expression grim. "This is bad. The kid is barely breathing," he said, his voice laced with concern. "I believe it's from the faeces that he was covered in."
Lucas, still feeling overwhelmed with emotions, pleaded with Ethan. "Please, I need you to save Jack," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Ethan placed a reassuring hand on Lucas's shoulder. "Don't worry kid," he said, his voice gentle. "He's not in danger anymore. Though if he stayed in the barrel a bit longer, it would have been more severe."
Lucas let out a deep sigh of relief, grateful that at least one of his worries was taken care of. He looked down at Jack, hoping and praying that he would pull through.
Chéng approached Lucas with concern in his eyes. "Kid, are you alright?" he asked.
Lucas nodded slowly, still trying to piece together what had just happened. Everything felt like a dream, a nightmare that he couldn't seem to shake off.
Chéng placed a comforting hand on Lucas's shoulder. "We're here to help you," he said. "Can you tell us what happened?"
Lucas's heart sank as the memories flooded back. He remembered hearing his mother's gruesome fate and his own narrow escape. He looked up at Chéng with tears in his eyes.
"Please let me join you" He cried out.
Chéng looked at Lucas with a mix of surprise and scepticism. He knew that the boy had just lost everything he had ever known, but joining their group was not something to be taken lightly. Their path was not an easy one, and it was filled with danger and uncertainty.
"Join our group?" Armen scoffed, "In your dreams."
Lucas felt a pang of disappointment but didn't let it deter him. He had made up his mind and he knew what he wanted.
"Please," Lucas implored, "I need your help. I have nowhere else to go."
Chéng looked at the burning ruins of the village in the distance and then back at Lucas.
"Armen, we can't just abandon them." He said.
Armen's eyes narrowed, a sinister glint betraying his thoughts. "Think about it. What value do they truly offer us? Our priority is securing more supplies and weapons, not taking on additional burdens. And I haven't forgotten the stunt you pulled last time."
With a deft flick of his wrist, Armen unsheathed his sword, the menacing rasp echoing ominously.
Chéng's eyes widened in horror. "ARMEN!"
In the split second before Armen's blade descended, Lucas instinctively raised his hand to shield his face. The cold steel sliced through the air, leaving a crimson gash across Lucas's palm. Clenching his teeth, Lucas trembled as he surveyed his injury.
Armen's voice oozed contempt as he taunted, "Tell me, what possible use could we have for a filthy child who quakes so pitifully over a mere scratch?" The sinister undertone in his voice promised that the ordeal was far from over.
In a sudden burst of courage, Lucas launched himself at Armen. With lightning reflexes, Armen sidestepped the attack, a mocking smirk playing on his lips.
Armen taunted, "Do you honestly believe you stand a chance against me?"
Lucas brandished a dagger, his grip resolute. Armen's eyes flickered with confusion as he checked his own belt, only to find his dagger missing.
Armen's voice wavered, incredulous. "When did you manage to steal my dagger?"
Lucas panted, his eyes fixed on the weapon clutched in his unscathed hand, the adrenaline surging through him as he prepared for the next move.
Determination burned in Lucas's eyes as he launched himself at Armen, his spirit unyielding in the face of his opponent's taunts. Armen responded in kind, swinging his greatsword through the air in a wide, sweeping arc. His intent wasn't to kill, but to intimidate Lucas, to force the inexperienced youth to retreat and cower.
Lucas, however, defied expectations. Despite his lack of prior combat experience, he nimbly evaded each powerful blow Armen sent his way. It was as though some latent instinct had awoken within him, granting him a natural agility and intuition in the heat of battle. With every dodge and sidestep, Lucas drew closer to Armen, his confidence surging.
As the distance between them diminished, Lucas recognized an opportunity. Seizing the moment, he darted forward, his movements swift and decisive. The razor-sharp edge of the dagger connected with Armen's neck, leaving a superficial scratch in its wake.
Armen recoiled, the sting of the blade a stark reminder of Lucas's tenacity. The scratch was minor, but it served as a testament to Lucas's unexpected prowess, and a warning that he would not be easily defeated. The air around them seemed to crackle with tension, as the balance of power shifted ever so slightly, and the true nature of their conflict began to reveal itself.
With a weary smile, Lucas gasped, "There... now we're even." His energy spent, he suddenly crumpled to the ground, falling unconscious.
Chéng studied the fallen boy, his expression thoughtful. "Perhaps there's more to this child than we initially thought, Armen. Wouldn't you agree?"
Armen's face was a mixture of surprise and irritation, the unexpected turn of events challenging his perception of the situation. Yet, beneath the annoyance, there was a flicker of curiosity, an unspoken acknowledgment that the boy might indeed possess untapped potential.
As Lucas's eyes fluttered open, he found himself in unfamiliar surroundings. Ethan, sitting nearby, noticed his stirring and remarked, "Oh, you're finally awake."
Blinking in confusion, Lucas managed a weak, "Huh?"
Chéng leaned in, his voice gentle yet firm. "Save your strength, kid. You and your brother are part of our crew now."
Lucas glanced over to see his brother, Jack, seated beside him, and relief washed over him.
"Where are we headed?" Lucas inquired, his curiosity piqued.
Chéng shrugged, his eyes distant. "Who knows? We'll let fate decide our course. By the way, we didn't catch your names."
"My brother's name is Jack, and I'm Lucas," he replied.
Chéng nodded, introducing the others. "Nice to meet you, Lucas. I'm Chéng. Over there is our archer, Ben, and beside him, the silent fellow is Mike. This is our support, Ethan, and the young man you've already met is Armen."
"Nice to meet you all," Lucas murmured.
Armen hesitated before speaking, his voice tinged with regret. "Lucas… I'd like to apologise for our last encounter."
Lucas, taken aback by the unexpected apology, managed a sincere, "Thanks."
Chéng clapped his hands together, satisfied. "Well, now that that's settled…"
As Lucas's thoughts wandered, he pondered the uncertainty of their future. He barely had time to consider the possibilities when Jack's weak voice broke the silence, calling out to him: "Lu…cas."