At the forward camp of the Blood-Iron Tribe, demon warriors drank heavily and sparred with each other, their cruel laughter echoing off the steep, rocky walls of the canyon. They were celebrating a victory where they didn’t even need to draw their blades for.
At the center of the camp, Chief Malakar sat heavily upon a makeshift throne made from the bones of a mountain drake.
He was a hulking figure of huge muscles and dark ashen skin. Having stepped into the A-rank, his aura was completely unrestrained, leaking out suffocating waves of raw power that made the lesser demons instinctively lower their heads as they passed.
An elder of the tribe approached chief Malakr, offering a massive iron goblet of wine.
"The scouts report movent on the lower trail, Chief," the elder said, a cruel grin appearing on his face. "A single carriage and just a few old n walking beside it."
Malakar took the goblet and let out a deep, rumbling laugh. "Of course. I told you they would break. There’s no way they can resist ."
"Your reputation alone brought them to their knees, chief" the elder agreed, bowing his head. "What of the village, Chief? Do we honour our words of not attacking them?"
Malakar stopped drinking, he lowered the goblet and stared at the elder as if he had just spoken sothing ridiculous. Then a sickening smile spread across his face, revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth.
"Honor a truce with those livestock?" Malakar laughed, amused by the very concept. "Don’t be stupid, Elder Han, tomorrow at dawn, you will take the vanguard down to that pathetic village."
The elder’s grin returned, wider this ti. "Do we destroy everything?"
"Slaughter the children, let the warriors enjoy the won in front of their n," Malakar commanded.
A vanguard captain, standing nearby, spoke up. "And the child of the widow, Chief? The scouts ntioned about the widow having a daughter."
Malakar waved his massive hand. "Bring her here and throw her to the hounds. They haven’t eaten fresh at in days. They enjoy eating children the most."
The captain chuckled. "And if she cries for her mother?"
"Make sure the mother watches the hounds tear her apart," Malakar said, taking another long sip of wine. "It will imdiately break whatever pathetic sliver of hope the widow has left. A toy that has endless hatred towards is much more enjoyable to play with."
The demons nearby their chief erupted into cruel laughter.
***
Miles away, in the Elderglen village, Inside her small, dimly lit ho, Lyra sat on a mattress. She stared blankly at the floorboards, her hands were tightly clasped in her lap. She was trying desperately to project a mask of unwavering strength, but her red swollen eyes betrayed her.
Beside her was Mira who shifted restlessly., The little girl hadn’t slept since yesterday and was comforting her mom, whole night.
"Mom?" Mira whispered.
Lyra blinked, forcing a gentle smile onto her face as she turned to her daughter. "Yes, sweetie? Try to close your eyes for a while and have so rest. You didn’t sleep at all."
Mira shook her head. "Do you think Ren will win mom?"
Lyra opened her mouth, she wanted to answer imdiately that Ren would win because she knows how strong he is. She wanted to say ’Of course he will’. But she also knew how strong A rankers were. So instead, she stayed completely silent.
"What if he gets hurt? I don’t want anything to happen to Ren." Mira asked, her large eyes welling up with tears.
Lyra’s breath hitched. She didn’t want Mira to cry. She decided to put her trust and hope in Ren. "Don’t worry Mira. Ren won’t get hurt and he will co back to us safely."
Lyra slid off the bed and knelt on the cold floorboards, pressing her forehead against her clasped hands.
"Mom? What are you doing?"
"I’m praying, Mira. I’m praying for his safe return." Lyra whispered.
Mira watched her mother for a long mont. Then, the little girl quietly approached the window and pulled out a perfectly smooth river stone. She carefully placed the lucky stone on the windowsill, pointing it toward the dark peak, and folded her tiny hands together.
***
I sat perfectly still on the leather seat,my legs crossed, my breathing slow and asured. In my right hand, I held the smooth river stone Mira had given . My thumb rubbed, calming circles over its polished surface. Outside the carriage, the crunching of the gravel finally began to slow.
"Halt!" a harsh voice barked.
The carriage ca to a sudden stop. And the voices of warriors of the Blood Iron Tribe were heard.
"Well, well. Look at the pathetic old fools," a demon sneered.
"W-we... we bring the tribute," the Elder’s voice trembled from the driver’s seat. He was playing his part flawlessly. "For Chief Malakar. The widow as the mighty chief requested."
Cruel, booming laughter erupted around the carriage. I could hear the clanking of iron armor and the shifting of heavy boots. There were at least a dozen of them, completely relaxed, they entirely focused on the spectacle of the surrender.
"Step aside, old man," a deep, earth-shaking voice rumbled.
The lesser demon warriors instantly went quiet. The sheer spiritual weight pressing against the wood told exactly who it was.
Malakar, the chief of the Blood Iron Tribe.
"You brought her in a box for ," Malakar mocked, his voice dripping with dark, arrogant amusent. "How fitting, I’m actually touched. Let see the prize."
A massive hand grabbed the heavy black curtains. My thumb stopped rubbing the lucky stone and I slipped it into my pocket.
The fabric was violently ripped aside. Malakar stood there, a towering giant of muscle and a cruel, lustful smirk plastered across his face as he looked inside, fully expecting to find a weeping, terrified widow begging for her life.
Instead, he found . I looked up, my eyes locking directly onto his.
Malakar’s lustful smile vanished, replaced by a boiling fury.
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