The leader looked at John with unflinching coldness and ordered him to handle whatever was left inside the house. Without another word, John moved toward the door, and as soon as he crossed the threshold, screams began to echo from within. Outside, the others heard those gut-wrenching cries as they dealt with the remains of Enix, preparing his body with a brutal ceremonial precision. They tied him to a pole, with his head resting against his chest.
None of the men showed sorrow, sadness, or anger. They simply watched with hardened expressions shaped by the life they had chosen. They knew that such tasks often required sacrifices, though none had imagined that one of their own would fall on this occasion.
A few minutes later, John emerged from the house. His face, armor, and even his boots were covered in blood. He breathed heavily. The leader, the man in the red hood, approached him and asked in a low, almost disdainful tone:
"Well? Did you take care of the brother?"
John looked at him, visibly confused. It was clear he hadn't expected to find anyone else there. "No, there were only women and children. No sign of an adult man," he replied, his coldness contrasting with the massacre he had just executed.
The leader stood completely perplexed at John's answer. This was not what he wanted to hear. According to the reports he had received, Paulus would never abandon his brother, just as Elmer would not stray from him; they were mutual protectors who watched each other's backs. In his mind, words of curse and frustration began to resound. The calm he had maintained until now evaporated in an instant.
"Everyone, move out immediately!" he barked sharply. Without wasting time, the men obeyed, and within seconds, they ran toward the village, dragging Enix's body along the ground. They couldn't afford to leave any evidence of their presence.
The urgency of their movements became apparent. They ran quickly, the weight of their mission increased by uncertainty. They knew that if someone had escaped, they needed to find them before the news of their attack spread and put them in danger.
The screams of people and children still echoed in the distance as they ventured deeper into the village. Some of the men took their time finishing off the victims they found. The leader, visibly furious, halted abruptly in the village center.
"John, tell everyone to stop with the nonsense and finish the damn job once and for all. I want them here now!" he shouted, his voice laden with irritation. Without replying, John nodded and quickly moved away. "Brik, Tinix, do the same. And you, Paul, take care of the body," he added, pointing to Enix's corpse.
Slowly, the group's members gathered around the leader. Their originally white outfits were now stained with a deep red, a mix of blood and dirt. The voices of the newcomers blended with mocking comments.
"One of us is dead," someone muttered quietly, barely suppressing a smile.
"How did that happen?" asked another, with a sarcastic tone.
"An villager trying to protect his family, it seems," one man responded with a mocking laugh. "Ha! That's really stupid."
"And who was it?" someone else insisted.
"Led," came the indifferent reply.
"Haha! That idiot," another man laughed out loud. Some in the group laughed with no respect or interest. The camaraderie was nonexistent among them, and the fate of their fallen comrades meant nothing to them.
Once gathered, the eleven men stood in silence, some expressing surprise upon realizing that it wasn't just one who had been careless enough to fall. However, all of them understood it was not the time to express doubts or give in to uncertainty. The leader positioned himself at the center and, with a firm voice, broke the silence.
"It's not time to relax yet. There's a damn rat still loose. Who among you were by the mountain area, where there were two houses?"
"I was," one of the men responded.
"And I, sir," said another.
"Good. You two, step forward," the leader ordered, not taking his eyes off them. The men obeyed.
"When you were in that area, did you see anyone inside those houses? Answer now!"
One of the men, shaking, began to speak with a stammer:
"No, sir. When we got to those houses, they were completely empty, both of people and belongings."
"So you didn't find anyone? Not even a body?" asked the leader, trying to contain his frustration.
"No, sir," the man replied, unable to stop trembling.
"Damn it, damn it!" the leader exclaimed, allowing anger to take over him. In a burst of fury, he removed his mask and hood, revealing a tense and furious face. The expression of despair on his face was clear. The men around him exchanged worried looks. The calm that their leader had usually exuded seemed to have shattered.
At that moment, Brik and Tinix appeared behind some trees, both panting as if they had been running. Tinix, his voice choppy, announced:
"Sir, we think we've found who you were looking for."
The leader's gaze fixed on them. "Where?" he demanded, his voice firm.
"Don't worry, sir. John is already taking care of it," Tinix replied, trying to calm him while pointing toward the forest.
The leader breathed a sigh of relief, though a spark of unease still remained. He knew John was an expert; if anyone could finish the job without leaving loose ends, it was him. However, he needed confirmation that the situation was completely under control.
"And how are you sure of his exact location?" the leader asked, his tone severe, expecting a precise answer.
Brik, somewhat nervous, replied: "Lord John said he would handle it personally. He was the one who found the Brother, but he wasn't alone; since there were more survivors, he ordered us to make sure we kill them. So we split up; we intercepted a pregnant woman and a maid. Among them, we found some belongings."
Tinix stepped forward and, with careful movement, handed a piece of paper to the leader. "This is what we found, sir," he explained as he presented a drawing. The leader looked at it, and his expression hardened. On the paper, he immediately recognized the wife of the last remaining Firebrand.
A faint smile appeared on his face, but it was not yet time to relax. He had almost completed the mission, but the final target remained. With a determined expression, he turned to his men and declared: "Alright, we'll help John. I don't want any chance of escape for that last Firebrand. Let's finish the job."
Before the leader could finish speaking, a cry echoed in the air, interrupting his command. The men turned toward the sound, and there, amidst the blood running with the rain, they saw a barefoot child, his clothes torn. His bare feet were stained with mud. His expression seemed lost, as though he had been drawn to that place by the desperation of a last refuge.