In the square, awash in blood and rubble, the people of Eldenrest huddled in small groups. Children cried silently, while adults shrieked the names of loved ones amidst the chaos. The soldiers in their glowing blue armor coldly dragged living corpses onto the ship, heedless of the pleas or the blood.
One soldier approached a group of women clutching each other by the village well, his energy gun pointed straight at them. A flash of light erupted, but before it could fire, he was flung away like a rotten bale of hay.
Sann stood there, his entire body radiating heat like a furnace, eyes blazing red, every muscle trembling. His body began to transform—his skin tearing to reveal golden fur, his fangs lengthening, sharp claws digging deep into the ground. With every step he took, the ground cracked under the weight and pressure emanating from the giant Leonine Man.
A child screamed from the crowd. "It's Sann! It's Uncle Sann! He'll save us!"
"Brother Sann!! Beat them down!"
"Go, brother!! Don't let them take our people!!"
Cheers erupted, the villagers shouting his name, clinging to their last hope.
Sann charged, moving so fast he was just a blur. His claws glowed red, empowered by the primal fighting instinct of a beast. He tore two soldiers to shreds, blood splattering like red fireworks. Another was punched, his armor crushed, his body deeply indented as if struck by a sledgehammer, then sent flying dozens of meters away. With every swing of his hand, one fell, the rest recoiling as if they had just learned fear.
The screams turned into cheers, hoarse voices rising with renewed hope. Sann stood there, his chest heaving, his eyes gleaming. But then… the sky suddenly darkened.
From the colossal ship, a staircase of light slowly descended. The air changed, thick, suffocating. Distant birds suddenly broke their wings and fell. Everyone fell silent. A stranger stepped out of the light.
He was unlike the soldiers. His armor was black with a violet sheen, conforming to his body in a fluid yet cold manner. His left hand held a long scepter, its tip a deep blue energy core, subtly swirling as if it had a consciousness of its own. No one could see his face as his helmet obscured it, only a faint line of light along his mask from forehead to chin glowed dimly. As he emerged from the green light in mid-air, Sann immediately felt something was wrong. Not because of his bizarre appearance, not because of the scepter or the emotionless voice… but because of the air around him—it was dead.
Everything within a few meters radius around him became terrifyingly still. No wind. No breathing. Even the plants seemed to stop moving. Space seemed slightly bent, as if the whole world was trying to step back to avoid something beyond the laws of nature.
Sann squinted. A drop of sweat fell down his temple, rolling through his blood-soaked lion's fur.
This one… is not like the others. Unpredictable.
But he still stepped forward.
"Just keep trying… to protect everyone. I will win." His eyes flashed with resolve and determination.
⸻
He roared, leaping forward with terrifying speed. His red-glowing claws carved five tearing lines through the air, aiming straight for the leader's neck.
He didn't parry. He didn't counterattack. He simply tilted his head slightly to the left.
Sann missed. Wind whistled past his cheek. A heartbeat later, he raised his staff, lightly tapping Sann's shoulder.
"CRACK!"
His entire right shoulder bone shattered. The force transferred into his body sent him flying back dozens of steps, his claws tearing up the ground. He knelt, gasping, eyes wide.
The damage wasn't from strength. But from the way he toyed with him.
He charged again. His strikes were like a storm. His blood-soaked claws relentlessly swung. But each time he reached, the leader would slightly tilt, evade, step sideways. Like a ghost.
Every time Sann missed, the leader would touch him once. A punch like a shove to the shoulder. A swipe across the neck. A light touch to the back.
But each touch left a terrible wound.
Shoulder cracked. Ribs broken. Left shoulder blade dangling. Back torn open. Blood gushing.
Sann began to feel fear. He feared that he truly couldn't protect anyone anymore, feared that these villagers would die, and feared that his brother Keal would meet the same end as him. His eyes blurred. His breathing began to choke. But he still struggled to stand. His chest heaved. One leg was already broken. He stood on his last remaining strength.
⸻
The figure stopped. He tilted his head as if bored with a toy that was too weak, no longer entertaining.
"Anomaly Class B. High resistance capability. Moderate danger level. Recommendation: Eliminate."
The voice from the comm device echoed steadily, like an execution order being finalized.
He heard it. But no longer had the strength to understand. His eyes only saw one thing—the villagers behind him. They were hiding. They were crying. They were scared.
He whispered: "Keal… don't come back here. Everyone… run…"
And then, he raised his scepter.
The leader slowly walked to the center of the square, where Sann—in his heavily wounded Leonine form—was kneeling on one knee, gasping for breath. Deep cuts on his shoulders, chest, and thighs bled profusely, each breath a groan like a wounded beast.
His hand raised the scepter. No need to lower himself. No need to show haste. He was as if punishing a stubborn wild beast whose fun was over.
The scepter's tip glowed. At first, it was just a faint blue halo surrounding the swirling crystal core, then it suddenly gathered into a finger-sized point of light. That point of light gently vibrated… grew larger… hissed like metal scraping glass, making the whole space feel suffocated.
Sann looked up. His eyes were empty, mixed with pain and helplessness. The crowd behind him began to scream:
"RUN, BROTHER SANN!!!"
"DON'T STAND THERE—!"
"UNCLE, UNCLE, RUUUNN!!!"
But Sann didn't move.
His eyes held a fleeting sadness.
Not because of fear. Not because of pain. But because he understood—he couldn't keep his promise.
He couldn't protect them.
He couldn't live to tomorrow to share a new cup of wine with Keal.
He couldn't see the dance festival tomorrow morning.
He blinked one last time… very slowly… then exhaled softly, like an apology.
And then…
"KRAAAAZZAAAAAAMM!!"
The energy beam was unleashed. Not like a bullet or lightning, but a thick, swirling column of green light, firing straight from the scepter at the speed of light.
The air tore. The ground cracked from the energy pressure. The sound wasn't like an explosion, but like the entire space being ripped apart, resonating in deep vibrations within the chests of those who witnessed it.
The energy beam pierced straight through Sann's chest. For an instant, his body was lifted from the ground, convulsing violently as if being burned from within. His lion's fur was scorched. His flesh blistered. His muscles exploded into fragments.
Then—
BOOOOOMMMMMM!!
Sann's body exploded.
Not a typical fiery explosion. But an explosion into dark red fragments of blood and flesh, raining across the air like a bloodstorm. Large fragments fell onto rooftops, splattered onto trees, and even clung to the faces of the stunned villagers.
Part of his skull fell right in the middle of the village square. Blood still dripped.
A few villagers, unable to bear it, screamed, collapsed, convulsed. One man yelled "No!!!" and rushed forward… only to be shot down instantly.
And the leader, he just stood there. His head slightly tilted to one side, as if observing whether his prey had completely disintegrated.