The Festival of Moonlight was supposed to be a night of joy. Music played in the streets, colorful lanterns illuminated the city, and children laughed as they ran between food stalls. People danced under the glow of the full moon, their worries momentarily forgotten.
Among them, Elara and Ainz's other friends enjoyed the celebration, unaware of the darkness creeping toward them.
Unaware that this night would be their last.
Midnight – The First Strike
The first sign of danger was the sudden silence.
The music stopped. The laughter faded. Then, the distant sound of something heavy slamming into wood echoed through the city.
Then a scream.
Then another.
The festival-goers turned toward the source, their faces filled with confusion. Before anyone could react, figures cloaked in black poured into the streets like shadows, blades gleaming under the moonlight.
The Organization had begun its purge.
The air filled with chaos. People ran, knocking over food stalls in their desperation. Screams drowned out the music as the assassins and soldiers of the Organization cut down anyone who resisted.
Some of the festival-goers weren't targets—they were merely collateral damage.
And Elara was next.
Elara's Home – Midnight
A loud bang shook the small house.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
Elara, still wearing her festival attire, turned toward the door, her heart pounding.
"What was that…?" she whispered, placing her cup down.
A second later, the wooden door exploded inward.
Soldiers stormed in, their torches casting monstrous shadows against the walls.
"Elara," a deep voice sneered, "you're coming with us."
She stumbled backward, knocking over a chair. "Who—? What—?"
"You're under arrest for treason against Benling."
The leader stepped forward, his armored boots crushing the broken wood beneath him. His face was covered with a steel mask, but his cruel smirk was visible.
Elara's hands trembled. Then her fingers brushed against something—the handle of a dagger she had hidden beneath the table.
Her only chance.
She lunged for it—
A crack echoed through the room as the masked man kicked her in the ribs, sending her crashing into the ground. Her vision blurred from the impact, her body spasming in pain.
"Tch. Don't try anything stupid."
Rough hands grabbed her arms and yanked her up. She screamed and kicked, but the soldiers were too strong.
As they dragged her outside, the nightmare unfolded before her eyes.
The City Burns
The once-festive streets were now filled with corpses.
Homes were set ablaze, their flames licking the night sky. Smoke choked the air. The bodies of guards and civilians alike littered the stone roads, their blood pooling in the cracks.
And among the chaos, Ainz's friends were being hunted down one by one.
Elsewhere in Benling
Tyren, a close friend of Ainz, fought back.
"You bastards!" he roared, swinging a wooden beam at the soldiers. "Ainz is no traitor!"
His attack connected, smashing into one of their helmets. The soldier stumbled, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth.
But Tyren was outnumbered.
Before he could swing again, a second soldier drove a spear through his thigh.
Tyren screamed as he fell to the ground, clutching his bleeding leg. The soldiers surrounded him, their weapons glinting in the firelight.
"You should have stayed silent," one of them muttered.
Then the beating began.
Captured – The City Plaza
By the time the sun began to rise, the last of Ainz's friends had been captured.
They were dragged to the central plaza, their bodies bruised and broken, their hands shackled behind their backs. Some were barely conscious, their heads hanging low.
Elara, however, still held her head high.
The high-ranking officer, dressed in silver armor, stepped forward. His sharp gaze swept over the prisoners like a predator inspecting his prey.
"You all should feel honored," he said. "The Organization has taken an interest in you."
Elara's jaw clenched. "Go to hell."
The officer smirked. "You'll wish that was an option."
The torches burned through the night. The screams would continue until morning.