The guild fell into an eerie quietness as the night deepened. Most of the members had left to rest and prepare for the upcoming battle, leaving Alex and Ethan alone in the dimly lit main hall. The flickering lanterns cast long shadows on the walls, amplifying the weight of their solitude.
Alex leaned against a wooden pillar, his arms crossed as he watched Ethan pace. Despite his earlier resignation, Ethan's restlessness was palpable.
A Night of Unease
"You're going to wear a hole in the floor," Alex commented, his voice dry but laced with exhaustion.
Ethan stopped mid-stride and turned to him. "I can't just sit here, Alex. Agatha and the others are out there, risking their lives, and we're... babysitting an empty guild."
Alex sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's not just about us anymore. Agatha trusts us to keep this place secure. If the mercenaries decide to retaliate while everyone's gone, someone has to be here to handle it."
Ethan slumped into a chair, resting his head in his hands. "I know, I know," he muttered. "But it still feels wrong."
Alex didn't respond immediately. He understood Ethan's frustration, but his body felt like it weighed a ton, and every muscle screamed for rest. As much as he wanted to be out there fighting, he couldn't ignore the reality of his current state.
An Unspoken Burden
After a long silence, Ethan spoke again, his voice softer. "Do you think they'll be okay?"
Alex hesitated, glancing out the window at the star-filled sky. "Agatha's strong. Stronger than I ever imagined. And with Aiden and the others, they've got a chance."
Ethan leaned back in his chair, letting out a slow breath. "You don't sound convinced."
Alex frowned, his thoughts drifting to the sheer power of the co-leader and the unknown threat posed by the leader of the Black Hand. "It's not that I don't believe in them," he admitted. "But something about all this doesn't sit right with me. This isn't just about mercenaries. It feels... bigger."
Ethan looked at him, his brows furrowing. "You think there's more to this?"
Alex nodded. "I don't know what it is yet, but we need to be ready. Not just for the Black Hand but for whatever else might be coming."
Aiden's Warning
As if on cue, the door creaked open, and Aiden stepped into the hall, his expression as unreadable as ever. He carried an aura of calm confidence, as though the battles of the day hadn't touched him.
"You two look like you're debating the end of the world," Aiden remarked, his tone light but his eyes sharp.
Ethan straightened, surprised by his sudden appearance. "What are you doing here? I thought you'd be with Agatha."
Aiden smirked, leaning against the doorway. "I'm taking a short reprieve before the real fight begins. I trust Agatha to handle things for now."
Alex narrowed his eyes. "And you? You don't seem worried."
Aiden's smirk deepened. "Worry doesn't accomplish much. Preparation does. Besides, you've seen what Agatha's capable of. There's little that can match her strength."
Ethan frowned, still unconvinced. "And what about the leader of the Black Hand? You think he'll just roll over?"
Aiden's gaze darkened slightly. "No. But when the time comes, we'll deal with him."
A Quiet Resolve
As Aiden turned to leave, he glanced back at Alex. "Rest, Alex. You'll need it. This isn't over yet."
Alex stared after him, his mind churning. Despite Aiden's cryptic assurance, a knot of unease twisted in his gut. Something told him that the fight ahead would test them all in ways they couldn't yet imagine.
As the hours passed, Alex and Ethan finally settled into an uneasy rest, their thoughts filled with the uncertainties of the coming day. The quiet of the night offered little solace, but in their hearts, they knew that when the sun rose, they would face whatever came their way—together.
The silence of the guild hall was heavy, blanketing Alex and Ethan as they finally succumbed to exhaustion. Despite their worries, their battered bodies and restless minds could no longer fight the pull of sleep.
Agatha's Departure
While they slept, Agatha and her guild quietly gathered their gear and left under the veil of darkness. The forest swallowed their departure, the sound of their footsteps and hushed voices disappearing into the distance.
The mission ahead was treacherous, and Agatha had made it clear to everyone: Alex and Ethan were to stay behind. The two were young, brave, but not yet ready for the full weight of war.
An Empty Guild
Morning broke slowly, the golden light streaming through the cracks in the guild hall's wooden shutters. Ethan was the first to stir, rubbing his eyes groggily as he stretched in his chair. For a moment, he blinked in confusion before remembering where he was.
"Alex," Ethan called, his voice still heavy with sleep.
Alex groaned, rolling over on the bench he'd claimed. "What?"
Ethan glanced around the empty hall, his expression shifting from sleepy to alarmed. "They're gone," he said, standing abruptly.
"What do you mean, 'gone'?" Alex muttered, sitting up and rubbing his face.
"I mean Agatha and the guild! They left us," Ethan replied, pacing again. "We're just... sitting here looking after an empty building while they're out risking their lives!"
Alex sighed, leaning back against the wall. "We agreed to this, Ethan. She didn't leave us much choice."
"Yeah, well, it still sucks," Ethan muttered, flopping back into a chair.
A Mundane Morning
The hours dragged by as the two tried to find ways to pass the time. Ethan practiced his swordplay in the yard, while Alex busied himself cleaning his gear and reorganizing the guild's supplies.
"It's too quiet," Ethan grumbled after a while, tossing his sword aside.
Alex didn't respond, his focus on sharpening a blade.
The village beyond the guild's walls was equally subdued, the usual bustle of life muted. The absence of the guild members was like a void, a reminder of the stakes of their mission.
The Blast
The peace shattered suddenly with a deafening explosion that shook the ground.
Alex and Ethan leapt to their feet, eyes wide as they grabbed their weapons.
"What was that?!" Ethan shouted, rushing to the window.
Smoke billowed from the direction of the village gate, and the faint sound of panicked screams reached their ears.
"Trouble," Alex muttered, already strapping on his gear.
The two sprinted toward the source of the commotion, their hearts pounding. As they reached the outskirts of the village, they saw the chaos unfolding.
Revenge Arrives
A horde of mercenaries swarmed the village gate, their black uniforms and ruthless demeanor unmistakable. At least fifty of them were advancing, cutting down anyone who stood in their way.
Ethan's grip tightened on his sword. "The Black Hand," he hissed.
Alex scanned the scene, his mind racing. "This isn't just an attack. It's revenge. They know Agatha's gone."
Ethan nodded grimly. "What do we do? There's too many of them!"
Alex clenched his jaw, his exhaustion forgotten in the face of the threat. "We protect the village. No one else can."
Ethan hesitated for a moment, then squared his shoulders. "Let's do this."
With a shared nod, they charged into the fray, the weight of the guild's absence pressing down on them—but their resolve stronger than ever.
The clash at the village gate was chaos incarnate. Mercenaries swarmed like locusts, tearing through the defenses with merciless precision. Villagers screamed, scattering in every direction as their once-peaceful home turned into a battlefield.
Ethan's Stand
Ethan plunged headfirst into the fray, his sword gleaming under the harsh sunlight. He fought with raw ferocity, each swing of his blade cutting down mercenaries who dared to face him. The adrenaline coursing through his veins drowned out the fear, leaving only a singular focus: protect the village.
"Come on!" Ethan roared, deflecting a strike before countering with a clean slash to his opponent's torso. Blood sprayed, but he didn't flinch. Instead, he turned toward another mercenary, his eyes blazing with fury.
It wasn't long before Ethan's rage consumed him entirely. His veins seemed to burn, his muscles surged with unnatural strength, and his movements became faster, deadlier. He had tapped into his latent power: Rage.
Rage Unleashed
Ethan's power manifested visibly, his body radiating a faint crimson aura. Every swing of his sword became a blur, every step left cracks in the ground. He tore through the mercenaries like a tempest, each strike more devastating than the last.
One particularly bold mercenary lunged at him with a spear. Ethan caught the shaft with his bare hand, snapped it in two, and hurled the broken pieces into another attacker. He spun, cleaving through a group of three with a single, powerful sweep of his blade.
The sight was terrifying, even to the mercenaries.
"He's a monster!" one shouted, dropping his weapon and fleeing.
"Run! We can't beat him!" cried another, bolting after his comrade.
Panic rippled through the ranks, and soon a dozen mercenaries abandoned the fight, scattering into the woods.
Alex Secures the Villagers
While Ethan unleashed hell on the battlefield, Alex had a different mission. He darted through the streets, ushering villagers toward the safety of the guild hall.
"This way! Hurry!" Alex shouted, helping an elderly woman to her feet and guiding her toward cover.
A child sobbed nearby, frozen in fear as a mercenary approached. Alex didn't hesitate—he hurled his dagger, striking the attacker square in the chest before rushing to the child's side.
"You're safe now," he said softly, picking the child up and carrying them to the hall.
Despite his exhaustion, Alex moved with determination, refusing to let a single villager fall to the invaders.
The Mercenary Leader
As Ethan continued his onslaught, a figure emerged from the chaos—a towering man clad in white armour, his face obscured by a metal mask. A massive war hammer rested on his shoulder, its head crackling with faint purple energy.
"Ethan, look out!" Alex shouted from a distance, recognising the leader immediately.
The mercenary leader surveyed the battlefield with cold indifference. "Pathetic," he muttered, his deep voice echoing. "Is this all my men amount to? Fleeing from a boy?"
Ethan turned to face him, blood dripping from his blade, his chest heaving. "Who the hell are you?"
The leader stepped forward, his presence alone exuding menace. "I am Darion, commander of this squad. And you," he pointed his hammer at Ethan, "are a pest that needs to be crushed."
Ethan smirked, his crimson aura intensifying. "Try me."
Darion swung his hammer in a wide arc, the air humming with power as it narrowly missed Ethan, slamming into the ground with enough force to send a shockwave rippling through the battlefield.
The fight was far from over, and the stakes had never been higher.