Ren froze, his stomach lurching as the street plunged into a stunned silence. For a moment, no one moved. Then, like a dam breaking, a scream ripped through the air. The village erupted into chaos.
The men, who had entered the village like bringers of death, descended on the villagers with brutality. Swords slashed through flesh, blood splattered the walls, and the joyous festival turned into a massacre.
Men, women, and children were cut down where they stood. No one was spared.
Ren's heart pounded in his chest as he watched the carnage unfold, his body frozen in place. He wanted to help, to stop the slaughter, but it was as if some invisible force kept him rooted to the spot.
The villagers, too engrossed in their joyous mood, had no chance to even think about attacking the killers.
The leader of the group, his sword dripping with fresh blood, raised his weapon to the sky, his voice booming with righteous fury.
