Rita was still on her hill, contemplating the small village below. The good atmosphere had neither diminished nor stagnated. On the contrary, from where she stood, she had the impression that nothing could stop the wild growth of joy in that village.
She wondered how it was possible. How such peace could exist in a village within the land of war.
She had no idea, but what she knew for sure was that she did not want to ruin that peace with her cursed presence.
Rita did not know if it was a good idea to be completely alone in this world, and she knew that her family would surely check whether she managed to become queen.
But even by instinct, she herself did not want to interfere with anyone.
So she stayed at the top of her hill. Until the day the village was attacked…
That day, Rita noticed fire and dust rising in the distance. Normally, that could have been nothing unusual, but in Nozras, it was never a good omen. The cloud was advancing too quickly, and the sound of steel could be heard with every gallop of horses.
It was like a storm of weapons and fury heading straight toward them, and the village was aware of it as well. In just a few minutes, Rita noticed agitation among some of them. After only two minutes, the entire village was in motion. The warriors were preparing for battle, while the women and children were moving back, already setting up places to treat the wounded and prepare rations.
In Nozras, it was common for a clan or a group of warriors to build their reputation by attacking other clans or villages. It was part of the long process of building great renown and forming solid clan members.
Rita knew all of this. She had been trained with the history of the country since Nozras. Even though her heritage had been taken from her, her mother and her village had made sure she knew the history of her ancestors and had trained her to become as formidable as they were.
Every descendant of Nozras struck fear into all nations. Woman or man, the proud descendants of the first king of this land had managed to carry on the great legacy of the tyrant and keep the name Obu sacred and spread throughout the country.
For Rita, it was the end of that emblematic name. The lineage had, in a way, died with her.
Even if it was an integral part of life in Nozras, she had no reason to let it happen. She had no reason to place her hopes in a similar future.
So she decided, not out of a simple impulse, but through a true act of will, to help this village whose peace she wanted to protect.
She rushed down the hill at full speed to help the village that was not hers. She even tripped on a root and ended up rolling down the slope, but the village did not see it. They were too focused on preparing for the attack. They regrouped in formation, all behind a kid. A kid holding a huge club in his hand.
The kid stepped forward in front of the group as if his young shoulders were strong enough to bear the pressure of being a leader.
Yet, he did not seem to feel any pressure. He was smiling as if he had just won a game. With the club in hand, resting it on his right shoulder, he puffed out his chest and breathed in the dusty air coming toward him.
"Looks like someone's coming to disturb our little peaceful break, friends. We're going to have to give it our all, because this is serious. It's the Rouc clan. But if you stay behind me, it should be fine."
The boy took position and commanded the village.
"Let's go."
The warriors let out a heavy cry and charged toward their attackers.
The clash between the two groups was terrible, and neither side wanted to yield to the first push. However, the boy did not take part in the melee. He jumped straight into the middle of the group and began swinging his club.
The fight was violent, and the boy was crushing skulls under the weight of his club.
Suddenly, one of the enemy warriors recognized him and warned the others.
"Shit, it's the little ogre."
He dodged blades and fists like no one else, and his dominance on the battlefield was absolute. Despite his young age, he advanced without any concern.
But what terrified the troops the most was the sadistic smile shining on his face. Through the dust and the blood spraying in the air, his white teeth gleamed like a bad omen.
The warriors of Rouc began to retreat little by little.
However, at one moment, a warrior got too close to him. The boy was caught off guard, and despite his exceptional skills, he was almost certain he would take the blade.
The blade almost lodged itself in his neck, but at the last moment, someone intervened.
A blonde-haired girl appeared and crossed blades with the attacker. The sound of metal rang through the area as the boy stepped back in surprise.
And as he stepped back, his face was brushed by the girl's hair.
"Who is she?"
"Who is she?"
Strangely, the Rouc warriors felt a new kind of fear on the battlefield. Rita looked angrier than anyone else.
In a flash, she shoved her dagger into the mouth of the warrior who had tried to kill the boy, then struck the hilt of the blade with a violent high kick. The warrior's face was slammed into the ground, and the blade tore through his face with the impact.
She then pulled her dagger out and threw it at another one, straight into his forehead. Instant death.
"She's unarmed!"
At least, that's what they thought. Rita pulled out another dagger from her warrior outfit and slit the throat of the first one who came at her. The second missed his strike but received a side kick to the face that sent him flying. She caught him in mid-air and used him like a whip against the others who were coming.
The boy had never seen anything like this. This girl had not been trained like a warrior, but rather like an assassin. Her movements were precise, clean, and aimed only at vital points. There was no pleasure on her face, only pure concentration. She left nothing to chance, and every one of her movements was calculated.
For some reason, the boy frowned as he watched her.
Rita finished her massacre without a single injury on her body. At such a young age as well, the Rouc clan had been annihilated with no effort. Legs were cut clean off, the same for arms, sometimes even fingers. She eliminated every single member of the clan in front of her as if they had personally wronged her.
Rita turned toward the young boy, covered in the blood of his enemies, and gave him a worried look.
"Are you okay?"
But the boy smiled, and Rita instantly understood that it was dangerous.
She took a violent punch to the arms. Despite her guard, she was sent back nearly ten meters. She had never felt that before. It was pure strength at a terrifying level. Even the warriors of her village were not capable of such power. It hurt. It really hurt.
The boy stepped forward, and Rita realized she could not see him as anything other than an ogre. He was a small monster, even a little too big for his age. From his face, she could tell he was around her age, but his body was that of an adult, as wide as a boulder.
In a flash, her vision was blocked by the boy's club. But she quickly understood it was a trap. After all, she used that kind of trick often. She deflected the club straight into the trajectory of another warrior, who could only realize that his strike had failed. However, the boy was not done. He caught the club in mid-air and resumed his assault. He tried to strike Rita again, but she was stronger than that. She deflected its trajectory once more with ease.
"You…"
But the boy was getting irritated. He took another side kick straight to the face and did not flinch or move. On the contrary, he grabbed Rita's leg and slammed her to the other side. However, she slipped out of his grasp like soap. Rita got back on her feet as if nothing had happened.
"Wait, I need to—"
But the boy did not stop.
"You were raised in a weird way. And where does that blonde even come from?"
He closed the distance faster than she expected, and now she could not escape. She took another powerful blow to the abdomen. A blow she had never felt before. It was as if her soul had been forcibly ripped out of her body.
She did not even have time to breathe before she took a second hit to the face, then a third to the face again, then a chain of blows coming straight from hell, leaving her unable to react.
She lost consciousness after forty hits.
"But who is this man?"