Chapter 15 : The Rise of Hero
In the northern part of the White Dragon Empire, a fourteen-year-old boy named John lived with his family in a small village. His eyes were blue, and his hair was pure blonde, reaching his shoulders.
John was training with his sword when his sister, Eliza, called him for dinner. "I'm coming, sister!" he replied, putting away his sword.
As he entered the house, he asked, "What's for lunch?"
"It's bread with potato," Eliza said, her face looking unhappy.
John noticed their mother, Hilda, was not present. "Where is Mother?" he asked.
Eliza shrugged. "I don't know."
Just then, Hilda entered the house, looking more like a 50-year-old than her actual age of 45. "I'll eat later, I need to do the house chores," she said.
John urged her, "Mom, come and eat with us!"
Hilda smiled weakly. "Later, dear. I promise."
As they sat down to eat, Eliza brought up the topic of the new Hero. "John, do you know that the new Hero will come to defeat the Demon King?"
John's eyes widened with interest. "Demon King? But why should the Hero kill him? Can't we all join hands and defeat him together?"
Eliza sneered. "You think it's that easy? The Demon King is powerful. We need the Crescent Covenant to defeat him."
John's curiosity was piqued. "What's the Crescent Covenant?"
Eliza leaned in, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's a secret alliance between humans, demons, and demi-humans. If we use it now, we might have a chance against the Demon King."
John's mind raced with questions. "But where is the Demon King? And how do we find him?"
Hilda listened intently, her eyes clouded with worry. She knew more than she let on, but for now, she kept her secrets hidden.
As the sun began to set on the small village, a sense of unease settled over the residents. It was three pm when suddenly, a group of bandits appeared, descending upon the village like a plague. They stole everything in sight, leaving destruction and chaos in their wake.
John's house was no exception. The bandits burst through the door, breaking everything they touched. John's father, Thorne, stood tall, his eyes flashing with anger. He was an ex-mercenary, and he knew how to handle himself in a fight.
"Get back!" Thorne shouted, standing in front of his family. "Leave us alone!"
The leader of the bandits, a burly man named Nandita, sneered at Thorne. "Or what? You'll fight us? You're just a farmer!"
Thorne smiled grimly. "I may be a farmer now, but I was once a mercenary. And I haven't forgotten how to fight."
With a fierce cry, Thorne launched himself at Nandita, sword flashing in the sunlight. The two men clashed, their blades ringing out as they fought.
John watched in awe as his father fought, his movements swift and deadly. He had never seen his father like this before, and he felt a surge of pride.
But just as it seemed Thorne was gaining the upper hand, Nandita landed a lucky blow, sending Thorne crashing to the ground...
Thorne and Nandita exchanged blows, their swords clashing in a flurry of steel and sparks. The air was thick with tension as the two men fought, their movements lightning-fast and deadly.
Thorne, his face set in a grim mask, parried Nandita's attacks with ease, his sword slicing through the air with a deadly whisper. But Nandita was no pushover, and he countered with a series of powerful blows that sent Thorne stumbling back.
The farmer's eyes narrowed, his grip on his sword tightening as he launched himself at Nandita. The two men crashed together, their blades locked in a fierce embrace.
John watched, his heart pounding in his chest, as his father fought for their lives. He knew he had to do something, but his legs seemed rooted to the spot.
Just as Nandita was about to deliver the final blow, John sprang into action. With a fierce cry, he launched himself at the bandit leader, his sword flashing in the sunlight.
Nandita turned, his eyes widening in surprise, as John attacked. The young boy's sword sliced through the air, striking true and biting deep into Nandita's shoulder.
The bandit leader howled in pain, stumbling back as John pressed his advantage. Thorne, taking advantage of the distraction, struck back with renewed strength, his sword slicing through Nandita's defenses.
The two men fought on, their blades ringing out in a deadly rhythm. John's heart pounded in his chest, his senses heightened as he fought for his family's lives.
But Nandita was far from defeated. With a snarl, he launched himself at John, his sword
flashing in the sunlight...
John's sword sliced through the air, striking true and biting deep into Nandita's shoulder. But the bandit leader was unfazed, his eyes blazing with fury as he counterattacked.
John tried to parry, but Nandita's blow was too powerful. The young boy's sword was knocked aside, and he felt himself flying across the room, his body crashing into the wall with a sickening thud.
Thorne's eyes widened in horror as he saw his son injured, his heart racing with fear. He launched himself at Nandita, his sword flashing in the sunlight.
Nandita sneered, his sword slicing through the air in a deadly arc. Thorne parried, but the bandit leader's blow was too strong. The farmer stumbled back, his sword trembling in his hand.
Nandita pressed his advantage, his sword slicing through Thorne's defenses. The farmer tried to counterattack, but Nandita was too powerful. With a final, brutal blow, Thorne crashed to the ground, his sword slipping from his grasp.
John, struggling to his feet, saw his father fall. He knew he had to act fast. With a fierce cry, he launched himself at Nandita, his sword flashing in the sunlight...
But it was too late. Nandita's sword sliced through the air, striking John with a sickening crunch. The young boy felt himself flying across the room, his body crashing into the wall with a deadly thud.
Everything went black.
The fight scene ends here
then Nandita Turned towards Thorne to do the last strick
As Nandita's sword hovered above Thorne's helpless form.
the air grew heavy with anticipation. The sky outside transformed into a canvas of swirling colors, like a masterpiece painted by the divine hand of the gods. The heavens themselves seemed to tremble with the weight of the moment.
And then, in a burst of radiance that illuminated the very fabric of existence, the angel descended. Its wings, four in number, shone with a light that seemed almost divine, casting a warm glow over the room.
The angel's face, a vision of serenity and power, shone with an inner light that seemed to pierce the very soul.
As the angel fell upon John and embraced him, the young boy felt a surge of energy course through his veins, like the very essence of life itself. His eyes snapped open, and he beheld the angel's glory, his heart filled with a sense of wonder and awe.
The angel's touch ignited a fire within John, a flame that burned with an intensity that seemed almost divine.
The threads of time themselves seemed to bend and warp, as if the very fabric of reality had been altered by the angel's presence.
With this newfound power, John beheld the future, the intricate web of cause and effect that bound the universe together. He saw Nandita's sword, still raised high, and he saw the trajectory of its descent.
And with this knowledge, John acted.
His hand shot out, grasping Nandita's wrist with a strength that seemed almost supernatural. The bandit leader's eyes widened in shock as John's grip tightened, his fingers closing around Nandita's wrist like a vice.
The sword, still clutched in Nandita's hand, began to tremble and shake. The blade seemed to writhe and twist, as if alive and struggling to break free.
And then, in a movement so swift it seemed almost instantaneous, the sword sliced through Nandita's throat, the blade biting deep into the flesh.
Blood erupted from the wound, a fountain of crimson that sprayed across the room, painting the walls and floor with a ghastly hue. The sound of Nandita's final breath echoed through the room, a haunting whisper that seemed to linger in the air.
The angel's gaze never wavered, its eyes fixed upon John as the young boy stood tall, his chest heaving with exertion. The air seemed to vibrate with tension, the very fabri
c of reality seeming to bend and warp under the weight of the angel's power.
And then, in an instant, it was over.