The wooden house was engulfed in flames, smoke billowing into the sky like a dark omen. Dust swirled in the air, stirred by the remnants of a recently deployed dust scroll. The structure, made of aged timber and thatched grass, was on the verge of collapse. Inside, the heat was unbearable, a furnace of destruction.
Busca sat unsteadily on a wooden stake, his once-golden robes now tattered and scorched by the blast from artillery shells. His face was etched with discomfort and anger, the remnants of his dignity stripped away.
Kerry, his son, stood nearby, terror etched across his face. Clutching his sword with trembling hands, he couldn't suppress his anxiety. "Father, is that really Martin in the armor?" he stammered, eyes wide.
"Of course it is! Who else would it be?" Busca snapped, frustration bubbling beneath his calm facade.
Quin and Locke were preoccupied with the chaos outside, focused on controlling the blaze that had been ignited by Martin's scroll they had just used. Busca hoped that the roaring flames would block the exit, sealing off any escape routes.
His hope was dashed moments later when a figure emerged from the smoke-filled cabin.
The figure, clad in heavy armor wrapped in layers of animal skin, struggled against the heat and smoke. Despite the oppressive conditions, Martin pressed on, his determination unwavering. The heat was suffocating, but the armor he wore offered a surprising degree of protection against the flames.
With a flick of his left ring finger, Martin activated a delicate parchment inscribed with intricate magical symbols. This parchment, a conduit for his magic, connected him to a wind sac—a device crafted from the hide of a wild boar and designed to propel him skyward.
As he activated the magic, the wind sac inflated dramatically, creating a powerful gust that filled the air. The sudden rush of wind intensified the fire, sending burning debris flying and causing the already fragile structure to tremble.
Martin felt the recoil as the wind propelled him forward, pushing him toward the edge of the wooden house. The moment was chaotic; he had never performed such a maneuver before, and the unfamiliarity made him cautious. But with adrenaline coursing through his veins, he found his balance and pressed on.
The wind sac, powered by a scroll of mad wind magic, surged with energy. This was no ordinary spell; it was four times more potent than the typical mad wind scroll. The air around him roared as he pushed through the burning cabin.
But this surge of power was fleeting. He needed to act quickly. He reached the wall of the wooden house, which was crumbling under the weight of the flames. With no time to spare, he braced himself and smashed through the charred wood, propelled by the wind sac's force.
In an explosive moment, Martin burst through the flames and into the open air. It wasn't flying as much as it was being launched—an impressive leap that sent him soaring above the chaos below.
To Busca and Kerry, it was a sight both awe-inspiring and terrifying. From their vantage point, they watched as the armored figure ascended from the inferno, a silhouette against the backdrop of destruction. The moment was surreal, a blend of danger and beauty that felt almost otherworldly.
"Father, he... he can't be human," Kerry gasped, unable to comprehend what he was witnessing. The height and power displayed were beyond the capabilities of a mere swordsman.
If Martin had heard his words, he would have chuckled, confident in the knowledge that magic and intellect were his true strengths. But at that moment, he was consumed by his own thoughts. "I'm airborne! I can't believe I'm actually flying!" Panic began to set in as he realized he was in free fall, the wind sac's energy waning.
He spotted Kerry below, standing frozen in shock, and instinctively pointed the sword downward. In a final act of desperation, he activated the third wind scroll just before gravity took hold.
The wind sac surged again, but this time it propelled him downward with alarming speed. The sword, aimed directly at Kerry, became an extension of his fall.
The impact was inevitable. The blade pierced through Kerry's chest with a sickening ease, the force of Martin's descent rendering the young man defenseless against the onslaught.
Kerry's armor, battered and weakened from previous battles, crumpled under the assault, and the world shifted into chaos. In that moment, the flames roared behind them, a fitting backdrop to the tragedy that unfolded, sending shockwaves through the fabric of their lives.