Marquess Ruan Henouvara, a strikingly handsome warrior of 28, with an ageless charm and unmatched prowess on the battlefield, found himself captivated by the young boy.
As he caught his first glimpse of the frail figure from afar, still conscious but clearly on the brink of collapse before they could vanquish the bandits, his gaze fixated on the boy's fierce eyes.
What he saw took him by surprise—a child radiating rage, already resembling a formidable warrior and a cunning strategist in the making for the Kingdom of Sanen. Just before he closed in on the bandits, a smirk crept across his face as he murmured to himself, "Fascinating, this kid's got real potential."
...
In the heart of Novaran, the capital of Sanen, stood an opulent mansion where both wealthy commoners and nobles made their homes, not to mention the King's grand throne. With determination in their stride, the Marquess of Sanen and his soldiers stepped through the gates, carrying the unconscious boy, Rezoun, who remained blissfully unaware as they journeyed to the Marquess's estate.
...
Rezoun stirred from his slumber, finding himself in an opulent chamber, blissfully unaware that he lay within the sprawling estate of the Marquess, complete with a graveyard, a training ground, and soldiers honing their skills with their swords.
With a feeble whisper, he murmured, "W-where am I again?" before his body fell still, as did his eyes and breath. "O-old man? OLD MAN! Where are you?" he called out, racing to the door. Just then, it swung open, revealing the imposing figure of the Marquess.
Shock, confusion, and a flicker of recognition played across Rezoun's face as memories surged back—memories of the man who had rescued him and his mother after the brutal stab wound inflicted on his father by the treacherous Viscount of Letterune. Though the Marquess had arrived late, he had fought valiantly before the soldiers, allowing Rezoun and his mother to escape. The truth hit him like a jolt: it was indeed Ruan Henouvara who had stood his ground, empowering their escape.
His heart thudded in an irregular rhythm, and he felt the sting of tears pooling in his eyes as he stood frozen. "Y-you're the one. The man who saved me and my mother."
The Marquess smiled softly, but his thoughts drifted back to the chaos of that day. It was true—they had been the last ones standing, clinging to life as he fought against the Viscount's soldiers. He recognized the kid immediately. "So you're the last of that town, with your mother? I remember. But where is she now? Where did you both go after the attack?" His voice was laced with concern.
Rezoun hesitated, his voice trembling as he replied. "We made it to a distant town that was attacked too, but there were no soldiers left. My mom…she didn't make it. She was too sick and starved." His face was shadowed with sorrow.
With a pained expression that seemed to rip him apart inside, Ruan finally sealed his lips and drew the boy into a gentle embrace. "I'm so sorry," he murmured, his voice thick with remorse. "I shouldn't have gone after the Viscount. I should have come to save you two first. It was a grave error on my part." Regret washed over him, especially knowing that this innocent child had just lost his mother. "I searched everywhere for you both, but it was like you vanished into thin air. You must have hidden yourself so well. I truly apologize for failing you as the Marquess of this Kingdom." His sincerity lingered in the air, but the haunting memories crept back like shadows, ready to engulf him once more.
...
While fending off enemies and trying to rescue the remaining townspeople, Ruan's eyes caught a glimpse of a young boy and his mother desperately fleeing—only to witness the boy's father cut down by none other than the Viscount himself.
Ruan's fury exploded. Without hesitation, he charged through the chaos, cutting down a soldier who struck at him from the side, his blade flashing as the man's head fell. He dashed forward, slicing down two more in an instant, before hurling himself at the Viscount with a fierce roar, aiming straight for the man's gut.
The Viscount twisted at the last second, taking only a shallow cut to his side. In return, he slammed his boot into Ruan's chest, sending him crashing back. Ruan dropped to one knee, struggling to breathe as pain burned through his lungs.
But the Viscount wasn't unscathed either. Blood dripped from his wound, and his breath came in short, ragged gasps. "Damn it," he muttered, swaying slightly. "My head's spinning… I'm running on fumes."
Knowing he couldn't last in a drawn-out fight, the Viscount turned and fled, staggering away as fast as his weakening legs could carry him.
Ruan tried to push himself forward, to chase after the fleeing enemies—but his body wouldn't cooperate. The Viscount's brutal kick had done more damage than he'd realized. Gritting his teeth, he stumbled back to safety, barely staying on his feet.
"Where... where's the boy and his mother?" he muttered between ragged breaths, scanning the wreckage around him. His chest burned with every inhale, but he forced himself to move, dragging the lifeless body of the boy's father onto his shoulder. His muscles screamed in protest, but he didn't stop.
He searched desperately, but the mother and child were nowhere in sight.
Then a voice echoed in his memory—one of the fleeing townsfolk shouting amidst the chaos:
"Keep running! Don't let that man's sacrifice be for nothing!"
Ruan froze. Sacrifice? Who?
Before he could piece it together, a bellowing voice cut through the past and into his mind like a blade:
"IF I DON'T MOVE, THEN BURN EVERYTHING?! YOU BASTARDS! I'LL BLOCK YOU EVEN IF YOU SET THIS PLACE ABLAZE! JUST SPARE THE PEOPLE! SPARE MY FAMILY!"
Ruan's eyes widened.
It was him—the man who had stood alone, facing down the soldiers to buy time. The one who had shouted his defiance even as torches were raised to burn the village. The one who had stood his ground… until the Viscount's blade pierced him.
And then came the heart-wrenching cry of a boy, echoing through the smoke.
"FATHER!!"
It was Rezoun—running, tears streaming down his face as he fled the nightmare behind him.
...
"Hah… so this is the man who gave his life to protect the town," Ruan murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper.
His gaze fell on the man's bloodied face, peaceful now in death. Realization dawned—This was the reason the Viscount snapped. Because someone dared to stand up. Because this man refused to let the innocent die.
"You stood your ground for the people," Ruan said, a faint, pained smile tugging at his lips. "What a hero… what a father…"
Despite his battered body, Ruan hoisted the man onto his back, the weight heavy—but not just physically. It was the weight of honor, of sacrifice.
As he trudged forward, the distant thunder of hooves reached his ears. At last, allied soldiers appeared on the horizon, galloping in too late to stop the carnage—but not too late to witness the cost of courage.
...
Ruan knelt down, his expression turning solemn as he met the boy's unwavering gaze. "Tell me, kid... do you want revenge?" he asked, his voice low and firm.
Rezoun's answer came without hesitation, his voice burning with fury. "I'll wipe them out. Every last one of those ruthless nobles from Letterune!"
Ruan's eyes widened slightly in surprise at the raw fire in the boy's words.
But Rezoun wasn't done. He stepped closer, his fists clenched. "So please… help me. Help me grow stronger. Help me become smarter. I don't want to lose to anyone else."
His eyes—once clouded with fear—now shone with determination strong enough to shake even a seasoned warrior like Ruan.
A moment of silence passed before Ruan smiled gently. "Alright… from this moment on, you're part of Henouvara. I'll take you in, as my adopted son. It's the least I can do to honor the man who stood against death for the sake of others."
He wrapped his arms around the boy, pulling him into a firm embrace.
Rezoun trembled. He didn't sob, didn't wail—but tears began to form in his eyes, silent and heavy, as if his heart had finally found something to hold on to.