Khaos has just vanished into the night, swallowed by the fog and the faint glow of distant, approaching Xylens. The villagers remain frozen. Some exhale in relief, others whisper with a touch of cruelty. Knights loosen their grips on weapons.
Knight 1:
"Well... that takes care of him."
Knight 2 (grinning):
"He always wanted to be a hero. Let him die like one."
Knight 3 (coldly):
"One less cursed blood to worry about."
Just then, a grunt cuts through the air. Ser Rothan, bloodied and barely standing, pushes himself off the stone wall he was leaning against. His cloak is torn, arm trembling as he leans on his sword like a crutch. He looks across the crowd with fury burning in his eyes.
Ser Rothan (rasping, but rising in strength):
"...You miserable cowards."
[All go quiet. The tension thickens. A few look away, ashamed. Others stare in silence.]
"You sit here with your swords clean, your armor untouched, and you speak ill of the only one among us who had the courage to act. A boy—despised, spit on, left to starve by the very people he just risked his life to protect.
And you call him the cursed one?"
Sir Ferrin (stepping forward, tall and proud):
"Enough, Rothan. You speak as though he's a hero—but you forget who he is. That boy is a stain on Velmira. His blood invited the first Xylen. His parents betrayed us, and that darkness still clings to him. If he dies out there, it is balance."
[Gasps ripple through the knights. Rothan stares at Ferrin, his jaw tightening. Then, he laughs—not kindly, but bitterly.]
Ser Rothan:
"You old fool... It was your cowardice that brought the darkness here tonight, not his. You and all those like you who cling to fear like a child to a blanket.
Khaos did what none of you dared to do—what even I, in my wounds, could not. He stepped into death's mouth not for glory, not for redemption… but because it was right.
And you dare call that weakness?"
[Ferrin glares, but says nothing. Rothan pushes off his sword, staggering forward so all can hear.]
Ser Rothan (voice rising):
"I've bled for Velmira. Fought more beasts than most of you can name. And I tell you this if we abandon him now, we are not knights. We are cowards wrapped in steel.
We say the Xylens are monsters… but we are the ones who watched a child suffer. We let hatred rot our hearts while he trained in the shadows, while he grew strong beneath your spit and your stones.
And now… he's out there, alone. A single spark in the dark.
You think that spark will last?
Not without us.
Not without honor.
So raise your blades not for Khaos, not for me but for the people hiding in their homes. For the name of Velmira, for every oath you swore when you put on that armor.
If you're too afraid to fight, stand aside. But if even one breath of courage remains in your soul... then follow that boy into the dark. Because I swear on every drop of blood in my body he is not alone. Not while I breathe."
[Silence. Tension. A flicker of emotion. Then—a knight steps forward.]
Knight 4:
"I'll go. I'll follow him."
Knight 5 (hesitating):
"He… saved us once. We owe him."
[More knights step forward, unsheathing weapons, lighting magic runes across their gauntlets. Some glance to Rothan, others toward the forest where Khaos vanished.]
Knight 6 (looking at Ferrin):
"Let the boy's blood be cursed. Tonight, he's the bravest one among us."
[Ferrin says nothing. His jaw clenches. He looks away.]
Ser Rothan (hoarse):
"Then go. Fight. Protect each other. And if we must die tonight... let it be fighting. Let Velmira's name be remembered not for fear, but for fire."
The scene changes to Khaos
Khaos didn't look back.
The storm raged outside, but it was nothing compared to the storm in his chest. The world was crumbling around him his village, his past, and now, even the chance of survival. He had no one left to trust. Rothan, with his stern words and hard lessons, had given Khaos the strength to act, but the knight's injury had sealed his fate. Khaos was alone, and the weight of that loneliness bore down on him with crushing intensity.
not caring about the cold seeping through his skin. His hands were stiff around the hilt of Dylan's broken sword, the weapon a mere fragment of what he needed to survive. But it was all he had.
The path was familiar, though the wreckage of the village twisted it into something unfamiliar. Buildings were nothing but charred skeletons, the road a labyrinth of cracked stone and debris. The Xylens had left their mark, their massive claws gouging the earth, the bodies of their victims littering the streets.
Khaos didn't hesitate. He couldn't. His every step was driven by something more than survival. It was the need to prove himself. To show the world—no, to show himself—that he wasn't the monster they believed him to be. The same monster they'd accused him of being for years.
The northern boundary. The breach. It was all that mattered now.
His heart thundered in his chest as he approached the woods, the very trees where the creatures had first emerged. The wind howled, and for a moment, Khaos swore he could hear the guttural growls of Xylens, hidden somewhere within the darkness. His violet eyes scanned the horizon. The barrier shimmered faintly in the distance, weak and flickering.
The world was teetering on the edge.
He ran.
Khaos reached the northern barrier, the magic weave visibly faltering like a breath held too long. It was barely holding, and he knew he wouldn't be able to fix it on his own. He was too weak, too far from anything that could help him.
He glanced behind him once. There was no turning back. The villagers, Rothan—they were all behind him now. His path lay ahead, in the heart of the storm, at the mercy of the beasts.
And then, there they were.
A low, bone-chilling growl echoed from the woods, followed by the unmistakable screech of a Xylen. Khaos gripped the sword tighter, his knuckles white against the jagged handle. The first creature burst from the trees, its glowing red eyes burning through the night like embers in a furnace. It was massive, far larger than anything Khaos had seen before. The weight of its presence crushed the air around him.
Khaos didn't flinch. He couldn't. Not now.
With a feral roar, the Xylen charged.
Khaos rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding its massive claws as they raked through the ground where he'd just been standing. He came up in a crouch, using the momentum to lunge forward, thrusting Dylan's sword toward the creature's exposed side. The blade struck, but the force of the beast sent him tumbling back.
The Xylen howled in pain, but it wasn't enough to stop it.
It came for him again, faster this time, its jaws snapping like an avalanche ready to swallow him whole. Khaos barely managed to dodge, but he felt the wind of its claws grazing his arm. Blood welled from the scratch, but it didn't slow him down. Not yet.
Desperation fueled him. He dove into the thick underbrush, hoping to use the trees to his advantage, but the Xylen was relentless. It tore through the foliage like paper, roaring with fury as it picked up the chase. Its claws crashed into the trunks, splintering them in seconds, forcing Khaos to keep moving.
He was growing tired. His body screamed for rest, but there was no time. There was never any time.
Finally, he reached a clearing, and he saw ita tall, jagged rock formation that he could use for cover. If he could get there, he could make his stand.
But the Xylen was on him faster than he anticipated. Before he could react, the beast barreled into him, knocking him to the ground with such force that the air was knocked from his lungs. The beast's weight pressed down on his chest, its sharp claws digging into the earth beside his head. Khaos's vision blurred as it pinned him there, its hot breath smelling of blood and sulfur.
For a brief moment, time seemed to stretch out. Khaos's heart raced, panic surging through him like wildfire. This was it. He was going to die alone, just like they always said he would.
But something inside him refused to give in. He wasn't going to let it end like this. Not without a fight.
His hand reached for the sword, still clutched tightly in his fingers, and with all his remaining strength, he drove the blade upward, aiming for the creature's throat. The Xylen howled, jerking back in pain, but the force of its movement sent Khaos tumbling to the side. The sword slipped from his grasp.
Before he could recover, the Xylen was on him again, pinning him down with a brutal swipe of its claws.
The world spun.
His vision blurred.
Then, through the haze of pain, he heard it.
The screech of another Xylen.
More were coming.
Khaos's breath came in ragged gasps, his body pinned beneath the beast. It was hopeless. There was no escape. He had failed.
And then
A roar echoed in the distance. A shout. Voices.