As they walked, Brynn looked up at Daemon with a curious tilt to his head. "So, what's the last thing y' remember, anyhow? Or do ya remember nothin' at all?"
Daemon shook his head, feeling the familiar frustration creep up. "It's… all just bits and pieces. Like fog. I feel like there's something I should remember, but I can't quite reach it."
Brynn scratched his head, squinting thoughtfully. "Weird… So, ya don't even know yer own name? Not fer sure?"
"Not for sure, no," Daemon admitted, glancing down. "I think it's Daemon. But it feels like there's… more. Maybe a last name, but I can't remember that either."
Brynn let out a low whistle. "Well, that's somethin'! Can't imagine not knowin' who I am or where I came from. S'pose I'd feel all strange about it. So, uh… are ya from a far-off place, or ya reckon maybe yer just wanderin'?"
Daemon shrugged helplessly, feeling the boy's genuine curiosity. "I wish I knew."
They walked in silence for a moment, with Brynn darting glances up at him, clearly still full of questions. "So… ya really ain't never heard o' nightcrawlers? They're nasty, mister. Used to creep outta the woods 'round dusk, scared folks half to death."
Daemon's eyebrows raised slightly. "And you've seen them?"
"Nah, nah." Brynn waved his hand, a bit embarrassed. "They was long gone by the time I was born. Only reason we don't see 'em anymore's 'cause of my dad. Came 'round when they was real bad and drove 'em off good. Folks say he was a powerful spirit, you know? Guess that's how he met my mom."
Daemon reached over, placing a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder. "I'm sure he'd be proud of you, Brynn. Sounds like you're doing just fine."
Brynn grinned up at him, looking a little sheepish. "Guess so. But… thanks. Ain't so bad, I s'pose, havin' someone to talk to 'bout it."
As they neared the village, Brynn's gaze suddenly shifted upward. A dark plume of smoke was rising against the sky, staining it with thick, swirling shadows. His stomach churned as a sinking dread washed over him.
"N-No…," he muttered, quickening his pace. "That's comin' from the village…"
Without warning, he took off, sprinting toward the smoke. Daemon followed, easily keeping up, though his expression remained blank, almost distant. They emerged from the trees to a scene of devastation. Brynn's home, his village—it was in ruins. Most of the houses were nothing more than shattered timber and rubble.
A few villagers were struggling to hold their ground against a group of men clad in rough armor and weapons glinting with blood. They fought with fierce desperation, but one by one, Brynn watched in horror as they were struck down, the sounds of clashing steel quickly giving way to silence.
Brynn fell to his knees, his face pale, eyes wide with shock. "M-Mom...?" he whispered, barely able to get the words out. "Is she…?"
Daemon looked down at him, a flicker of concern breaking through his dazed expression.
A mocking voice rang out from the chaos, drawing their attention. "Well, lookie here, boys," sneered one of the bandits. "Missed a couple stragglers!"
The rest of the bandits began forming a ring around them, their laughter and jeers filling the air. A man who appeared to be their leader stepped forward, a grim smile playing on his lips as he surveyed Brynn and Daemon.
"A shame, really," he said, shaking his head with mock regret. "Can't have any witnesses, y'know?"
Brynn's face twisted with anger, tears welling up in his eyes as he struggled to his feet. "What'd you do to my mom?" he shouted, voice breaking. "Where is she?"
The bandit leader's smile widened as he scratched his chin. "Your mom?" He chuckled coldly. "Kid, I don't keep track of every face I kill. Too many to remember. But I s'pose it doesn't matter, does it? You should be a good boy and accept your end quietly. Unless… you're plannin' to fight?"
The bandits snickered as he looked back at his men, smirking. "All of us here are level 2 or above, and I happen to be a level 4 Dark Mage." His laughter echoed, harsh and cruel. "So, what're you two gonna do about that?"
Daemon's face remained unchanged, still staring at the ground as if he was barely aware of what was happening. The leader frowned, slightly annoyed, and motioned for one of his men. "All right, go on, finish 'em off."
One of the bandits stepped forward eagerly, unsheathing his blade with a sinister grin. He lunged at them, his speed blurring, faster than Brynn could even follow.
But just before the blade could connect with Brynn's skull, the man seemed to dissolve, his body breaking apart into a red mist. The mist lingered for barely an instant before disappearing entirely, as if he'd never been there at all.
The bandits stared, wide-eyed and horrified, as Daemon lowered his outstretched hand. Silence swept over the scene. A few bandits exchanged confused glances, trying to process what had just happened, when Daemon's quiet, steady voice broke through the tension.
"Grown men shouldn't be trying to kill children," he said, his voice calm but cold, and as he spoke, a chilling aura spread over the area. Brynn felt the temperature drop, shivering as the air around them turned frigid.
In the blink of an eye, the remaining bandits were reduced to a bloody mist that quickly dissipated into nothing, leaving only their leader standing. He stumbled backward, face pale with shock, as beads of sweat broke out across his forehead. His voice shook as he muttered, "What the hell…? How…?"
Gritting his teeth, the bandit leader let out a furious snarl and activated his own magic, a dark purple aura exploding out of him. The ground trembled underfoot as his energy tore through the surroundings, flattening trees and leveling what was left of the ruined houses. But somehow, the area around Daemon and Brynn remained untouched, a bubble of calm in the midst of chaos.
The leader charged forward, fury blazing in his eyes. To the outside world, their movements were nearly invisible, a blur of speed. But for Daemon and the leader, time seemed to slow, each moment stretching into an eternity.
The leader swung his blade at Daemon, aiming for a killing blow, but he caught it effortlessly in his bare hand. The sword began to dissolve, and with it, the leader's right hand faded into nothingness. The bandit's eyes went wide with terror, watching in disbelief as his left hand disappeared the same way.
Time resumed, and the leader crumpled to his knees, staring in horror at the stumps where his hands used to be. Trembling, he looked up at Daemon, voice weak. "Wh-what… what are you?" he stammered, desperation creeping into his tone.
Daemon's gaze was unwavering. "I don't know," he replied, voice low and chilling. He tilted his head, a faint hint of irony coloring his words. "But I remember you saying to 'accept your end quietly,' wasn't that it?"
The leader's face twisted in fear as he began to beg, "P-please, I-I was just following orders! My boss—"
His words cut off as Daemon finished him off, leaving only silence behind. He turned, walking over to Brynn, who was still kneeling, eyes fixed on the ruined village, too stunned to cry. Daemon placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"Brynn," he said softly. "Take me to your home. Maybe your mom found a way to hide."
Brynn took a shaky breath and stood, walking ahead in silence. They made their way through the remains of the village until they reached a small, simple house that had somehow escaped the worst of the destruction. Brynn pushed open the door, heart pounding, and took a step inside—then froze.
His mother lay on the floor, her chest stained red, a deep wound over her heart. Brynn's legs gave out, and he collapsed beside her, staring numbly at her still form. The tears came, spilling down his cheeks as he cried in silence, his world broken.
That evening, they laid her to rest, the sky turning a soft pink as the sun set. Daemon placed a hand on Brynn's shoulder, glancing around the abandoned village. "What about the rest of the villagers?" he asked quietly.
Brynn shook his head. "Don't… don't care anymore."
Daemon's eyes softened, but he nodded in understanding. "Still," he murmured, "they deserve a resting place." He extended his hand, and with a gentle, steady motion, the entire village vanished. The houses and the fallen, all of it faded away, leaving a quiet, empty field in their place.
Brynn wiped his eyes, his expression hardening as he looked up at Daemon. "I want to be strong… like you," he whispered. "I want to find the boss that monster was talkin' about."
Daemon met his gaze, nodding solemnly. "Then I'll help you, Brynn. You and I… we'll find him together."
(4 years later)
The sharp clash of metal rang out in the palace courtyard, where Brynn, now a strong and agile young man of sixteen, was pushing back against a barrage of blows from Prince Callum Armiel, a determined but slightly overmatched thirteen-year-old. Brynn sidestepped, parried, and instructed with calm precision.
"Keep your stance balanced," Brynn said, moving like it was second nature. "If you lean too far forward, you're wide open. Here, try to dodge instead."
Prince Callum's sword missed by a hair's breadth as he tried, a bit awkwardly, to mimic Brynn's movements. They trained intensely for another few minutes before finally stopping, Callum panting hard and dripping sweat as they both reached for their water flasks.
"Not bad, Your Highness," Brynn said with a grin. "You're getting quicker."
The prince took a gulp of water, managing a proud smile. "I'll beat you one of these days, Brynn. Mark my words."
"Looking forward to it," Brynn replied, chuckling, when a familiar voice spoke up from across the courtyard.
"Working him hard, are we?" Daemon greeted, approaching them with a casual stride. Four years had passed since that fateful day in the village, but Daemon looked as unchanged as ever. Brynn still couldn't figure out if he was even human.
"Daemon!" Callum called out, his voice slightly hoarse. "Brynn doesn't give me a moment's rest."
Brynn raised an eyebrow, smirking. "You need it, Your Highness. Besides, Daemon's the one who taught me to train this hard. He just hides it better."
Daemon laughed, clapping Brynn on the shoulder. "He's right, Callum. And speaking of which—good work, Brynn. You're doing an impressive job with the prince's training."
Brynn shrugged, smiling. "It's fine… but I still want a rematch against you."
Daemon chuckled knowingly, crossing his arms. "Hmm, let's see… that would make it 255 losses, zero wins?"
"Oh, please," Brynn scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Just you wait. I'm level 2 now, after all—I'll catch up before you know it."
"Keep dreaming," Daemon said with a smirk. "You'd better pack a lot of lunches for that trip."
Ignoring the jab, Brynn shot him a curious look. "Well then, Mr. Hotshot, if you're so strong, how about telling me what your level is?"
Daemon sighed, clearly used to this line of questioning by now. "You know, Brynn, some things are best left a mystery."
"Yeah, yeah," Brynn said with mock impatience. "All I know is you use void magic, which is practically cheating, by the way. You could at least give me a clue."
"Would it really make a difference?" Daemon asked, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "Let's just say I'm still a bit… out of reach."
"Uh-huh." Brynn narrowed his eyes, sensing another dodge. "Someday I'll find out."
"Good luck with that," Daemon said, but his tone shifted slightly. "Speaking of which, you're going to have a new chance to test your strength soon. We'll be heading out of Atheria in a few days."
"Leaving?" Brynn perked up, intrigued. "Where to?"
"Myrria," Daemon replied, his gaze sharpening. "Most of the kingdoms will gather there for the annual tournament festival between the nations."
"Tournament, huh?" Brynn grinned, already excited at the prospect. "Count me in! Wait… you're expecting me to participate?"
Daemon nodded. "The king expects it. And so do I."
Brynn let out a low whistle. "Well, no pressure, then."
"Oh, there's plenty of pressure. Think of it as another test. And who knows—maybe you'll even win a fight this time."
Brynn laughed, reaching for his sword. "Is that a challenge, Daemon?"
Daemon smiled. "Only if you're ready for another lesson."