Highvale was a city on the brink of collapse. The roads were uneven and riddled with potholes and cracks from years of neglect. Rotting wooden beams and sagging roofs marked the skyline, with some houses leaning precariously as if one strong breeze would send them toppling. The scent of damp wood, unwashed bodies, and stale sweat hung heavy in the air.
People shuffled through the streets with hollow expressions, their clothes threadbare, their bodies thin from hunger. Children with gaunt faces clutched their parents' hands, their eyes glazed with quiet desperation.
Yet, the marketplace still clung to life a fragile heartbeat amid the decay. Merchants barked half-heartedly from behind rickety stalls held together by frayed rope and rusty nails. Wilted vegetables, rusted tools, and patched cloth were displayed like precious treasures. Buyers haggled with muted voices, their words tinged with the weight of survival.
Then, chaos erupted.
A thunder of hooves rattled the ground as a group of bandits stormed into the city. Dust billowed in their wake. Cloaked in battered armor and armed with crude weapons, they rode with wild grins, their eyes glinting with cruel anticipation.
Women screamed. Men pulled their children inside. Doors slammed shut. The bandits sneered at the fear they caused. One by one, they dismounted, kicking down doors and forcing their way into homes.
Inside one house, a man knelt on the floor, his hands trembling. A bandit towered over him, rifling through a battered chest of belongings. He pulled out a handful of gold coins and clicked his tongue in disappointment.
"Pathetic," the bandit muttered before driving the hilt of his sword into the man's face. A sickening crack echoed through the room. Blood splattered across the dirt floor as the man collapsed with a pained groan.
Across the city, the same scene played out bandits tearing through homes, looting, and leaving behind battered families and broken walls.
But amidst the chaos, down a narrow back alley, a young girl clutched her little brother's hand. She was only twelve, yet her eyes carried the weight of someone far older. Her brother, barely eight , trembled beside her, his small fingers digging into her sleeve.
"We have to find somewhere safe," she whispered, pulling him forward.
But fate was cruel.
A shadow stretched across the cracked cobblestones. A rough hand shot out and seized her arm.
"Well, well." A gruff voice, thick with malice. "A pretty little thing trying to play hero for her brother, huh?"
The girl pushed her brother behind her, her body acting as a shield. "Run!" she urged.
But the boy didn't move. He stood frozen, his wide eyes locked onto the bandit's sword.
The bandit sneered. "Tch. Look at him, scared stiff. Not much of a hero, are you?" He yanked the girl closer, his other hand rifling through her pockets. Finding nothing of value, his eyes darkened.
"Useless," he spat. His grip tightened on her arm, and his free hand drifted toward the hilt of his sword. "I might as well-"
Before he could finish, the girl grabbed a handful of dirt and flung it into his eyes.
"You little-!" He staggered back, roaring in pain.
Seizing the moment, she grabbed her brother's hand and ran. Their feet slapped against the uneven stone, breath burning in their lungs.
But they didn't get far.
A sharp yank at her hair ripped her backward. Pain exploded through her scalp, and she screamed as the bandit's hand forced her to her knees.
"You bitch!" The bandit's face twisted with fury, his bloodshot eyes blazing. He raised his sword high.
The girl shut her eyes.
Then
Thwack!
A sharp gasp tore from the bandit's lips. His body trembled as blood trickled from his mouth. His grip on her hair slackened, and he stumbled back, clutching his chest where an arrow had pierced clean through. His breath hitched shallow, ragged before his legs buckled beneath him. He collapsed onto the dirt, twitching as the last spark of life drained from his eyes.
The girl hesitated, her breath ragged. Slowly, she opened her eyes and froze.
A boy stood atop a crumbling watchtower. He couldn't have been older than ten. Dark hair tousled by the wind. Cold, sharp eyes calculating and unwavering locked onto the next target.
In his hands, a bow hummed faintly with Rhu. As he pulled back the string, another arrow shimmered into existence, glowing softly in the dim light.
The girl didn't wait to see what happened next. She grabbed her brother's hand and ran.
Their chance had come.
They wouldn't waste it.
The dust had barely settled over Highvale, but the chaos had been subdued. The air was thick with the stench of blood, sweat, and burning wood. The once-busy streets now lay in ruins, with shattered stalls and broken doors littering the ground. Families hesitantly peeked out from their homes, their eyes filled with both fear and hope as the guards of Ravenhert rounded up the captured bandits.
Dozens of men knelt in the dirt, their hands bound behind their backs with thick ropes. Some of them trembled, their faces pale and slick with sweat, while others glared defiantly at their captors, unwilling to show weakness despite the fear in their eyes. The guards stood watch, their swords drawn, ensuring none of the criminals tried anything foolish.
Sir Jaeger stepped forward, his massive frame casting a long shadow over the prisoners. His armor, dark and polished, reflected the dim light of the smoldering wreckage behind him. His piercing eyes scanned the crowd before he spoke.
"Who is your leader?" His voice was firm, cutting through the tense silence like a blade.
No one answered. The bandits kept their heads down, some sneering, others biting their lips in hesitation.
Sir Jaeger clicked his tongue in annoyance. Then, without warning, his presence shifted his Rhu surged. A suffocating force spread through the air, thick and heavy. It pressed down on the kneeling bandits, making their bodies tremble involuntarily.
The weaker ones gasped for breath, their foreheads touching the ground as if submitting to an unseen god. Even the guards felt the weight of his energy, standing stiff as beads of sweat formed on their brows.
"I'll ask one more time," Sir Jaeger growled, his voice laced with barely contained fury. "Who. Is. Your. Leader?"
A moment of silence passed. Then one of the bandits, thin and wiry with matted hair, coughed violently before barely managing to lift his head. His lip quivered, and his voice cracked as he spoke.
"H-He's not here… Our leader… escaped. By now, he may already be out of the city." His eyes darted toward the other prisoners as though expecting them to silence him.
Jaeger narrowed his eyes, his grip tightening around the hilt of his sword. His jaw tensed as his gaze darkened.
Meanwhile, atop a ruined watchtower, Zed had already sprung into action.
His sharp eyes scanned the horizon, cutting through the smoke and haze. The wind howled against his face, whipping his dark hair across his eyes as he steadied himself, adjusting his stance. His breathing was calm and steady but his focus was razor-sharp. Then he saw movement.
A lone rider, cloaked in black, galloped through the broken streets on a sleek black stallion. The rider's silhouette was blurred by the heatwaves rising from the smoldering wreckage, but Zed's eyes locked onto him immediately.
The leader.
Without hesitation, Zed raised his bow. His fingers brushed the bowstring, and immediately a Rhu-infused arrow materialized, glowing faintly with pale blue energy. The hum of Rhu vibrated through his arm as he pulled the string back, the pressure sharp against his fingertips.
He exhaled slowly. His heartbeat slowed. His pupils narrowed.
Release.
The arrow cut through the air like a lightning bolt. It weaved unnaturally between shattered buildings and crumbling archways, moving so fast it seemed to blur out of existence. It spiraled toward the fleeing rider's back, aimed for the space just beneath his shoulder blade. A fatal shot.
The bandit leader's head snapped to the side at the last moment, sensing danger. His hand shot out with unnatural speed—
Snap!
The arrow stopped mid-flight.
Zed's eyes widened in disbelief.
The leader pulled his horse to a sudden stop, sitting tall in the saddle. He held the arrow between his fingers, inspecting it like it was a mere twig. His gloved hand spun it lazily before crushing it between his fingers. Blue sparks of Rhu crackled and fizzled as the arrow disintegrated into nothing.
The leader's hood fell back slightly as he turned his head toward the watchtower. Cold, calculating eyes dark with amusement met Zed's sharp gaze. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
Impossible. Zed's jaw tightened. His grip on the bowstring creaked. He was already preparing another shot, Rhu energy swirling at his fingertips.
But before he could release it
The man vanished.
Not a trace of him remained. No sound of hooves. No lingering Rhu signature. Just… gone.
Zed's hand lowered slowly. His jaw clenched in frustration, and he leapt down from the watchtower. His feet hit the ground lightly despite the height, his movements fluid as he rushed toward Jaeger. His brow was furrowed, his breath sharp.
"He escaped," Zed said, his voice tight.
Jaeger's eyes darkened. His gaze remained on the horizon, where the faint imprint of hoofprints in the dirt was already fading. He inhaled through his nose, his expression cold.
"This isn't over," he muttered. His hand curled into a fist at his side, knuckles whitening beneath his gauntlet.
Zed's gaze remained on the horizon, his sharp eyes narrowing. He didn't respond, but his jaw tightened, and the faint hum of Rhu still lingered around his fingertips.
The air between them was heavy. The city was quiet now too quiet. The threat had passed… but the storm was far from over.