In the bustling city of Manalo, a boy sprinted towards the grand church, his breath ragged and his body exhausted. Determination etched across his face, he reached the entrance gate, eager to enter as swiftly as possible. However, his path was obstructed by the stern-faced guard on duty.
"Why do you stop me from entering the church? There's an emergency! Please, let me in!" the boy pleaded desperately, his voice filled with urgency.
The guard met the boy's gaze with a cold stare and retorted, "This place is reserved for those with money, not for beggars like you. Go elsewhere, kid."
"But... but I have money!" the boy protested, reaching into his pocket and producing a pouch filled with gleaming gold coins. He hoped that displaying his wealth would convince the guard to grant him entry.
Upon laying eyes on the pouch, the guard's greed took hold, and a devious plan began to form in his mind. Snatching the pouch from the boy's hand, he sneered, "Where did you come across such riches, boy?"
The boy, witnessing his pouch being snatched away before his very eyes, erupted in fury. His words dripped with anger as he demanded, "Give that back to me!"
"Tch! Quit your noise, kid. Go beg somewhere else!" the guard scoffed dismissively before delivering a harsh punch to the boy's abdomen.
Bent over in agony, the boy writhed on the ground, coughing up blood. Meanwhile, the guard prepared to make his exit, paying no mind to the boy's suffering. However, with a surge of determination, the boy dashed towards the guard's legs, clinging onto them with all his might.
"Please, sir! I beg you to return what's rightfully mine. This money is meant to save someone's life!" the boy implored, his grip unyielding as he desperately clung to the guard's legs.
Struggling to free himself, the guard attempted to shake off the boy's grasp, but the boy refused to release his hold. With increasing pressure, he beseeched the guard, "Sir, if you agree to help me in treating someone, you can have this money. I promise to be your lifelong servant."
The guard ceased his struggles, casting a scrutinizing gaze upon the determined boy. He inquired, "Who is this person you speak of? Is it a woman?"
Hearing these words, the boy's hope flickered. Perhaps the guard would finally listen, showing him mercy and offering assistance. With a brief smile, barely noticeable against the ground where his face had been bowed, the boy replied, "Yes, sir. She is a 10-year-old girl. She is suffering from-"
Before the boy could finish his sentence, the guard interrupted with a mocking tone, spitting in the boy's face. He uttered vile words that pierced through the boy's heart, "Send her to me when she grows older. After spending a night or two with her, I might find it in me to cure her. If she pleases me enough, she might even become my slave instead of you."
Enraged by the guard's repugnant words, a gust of wind suddenly swept through, and a crimson line materialized on the guard's hand, followed by a sickening thud. Blood sprayed from the guard's severed limb, his eyes wide with horror and pain. Collapsing to the ground, he howled in agony, his screams piercing the air.
Witnessing the guard's distress, the church gates swung open, and a nobleman emerged, flanked by four guards. Observing the injured guard, his missing hand drenched in blood, the nobleman turned to his subordinates and commanded, "Take him inside the church and seek aid from the priest. Hurry!"
Following his orders, the guards swiftly escorted the injured guard into the church for medical assistance. With the commotion subsiding, the nobleman's gaze fell upon the unconscious boy, lying in a daze beside a hand stained in crimson.
Approaching the motionless figure, the nobleman halted, planting his foot beside the boy's head. Curiosity danced in his eyes as he spoke, "How did you manage this? Why did you do it?" Initially resembling an intrigued child, his expression soon shifted to one of indifference. "Regardless of your reasons, the church will not let you escape unpunished."
"Mind your own business," he muttered to himself, preparing to turn away. However, he abruptly halted, a look of astonishment etched on his face. "Wind elemental user?!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with realization.
"Now I understand how you accomplished this feat without any formal magical training." Consumed by excitement, he momentarily forgot his noble demeanor, letting out a crazed laugh that mirrored that of an adventurous soul who had stumbled upon a great treasure. Recollecting himself, he coughed, feigning composure. "Excuse me."
His eyes shimmered with anticipation as he focused on the boy, proclaiming, "You're coming with me, boy! Hahahaha!" Laughter burst forth from his lips, akin to that of a delirious explorer who had finally discovered a hidden trove.
Realizing his lapse in decorum, he coughed once more, this time disguising his actions as an innocent interruption. "Excuse me."