"Hello, sir. Could we follow you guys we know a short route?"A man stood by the roadside, flanked by two companions. Their smiles were stiff, eyes shifting like restless shadows.
"Of course," my father replied, his tone cautious yet polite. "Lead the way."
They moved ahead, whispering among themselves as we followed at a measured pace. The mountain road narrowed into a rugged trail, fog creeping between the trees. Their behavior was odd every few steps, they glanced back, murmured something, then quickened their pace.
Even I, half-lost in my book, felt the unease growing heavier with each step.
Then one of them slowed, his shoulders tense."Sir," he said, voice trembling slightly, "the path's rough ahead. Just… stay close."
My father nodded, but his hand subtly brushed the hilt of his blade. "We'll manage."
A few more steps and suddenly, the lead man stopped. His companions exchanged a look. One of them muttered under his breath, "Forgive us."
Before anyone could question it, all three turned tail and bolted into the fog.
"WAIT!" Father barked, but it was too late.
A heavy rumble shook the ground. From above, a massive boulder crashed down, slamming onto the path before us, blocking our way forward. Dust exploded in the air. My heart skipped.
The sound of boots followed many of them.
Figures emerged from the mist, weapons glinting like hungry eyes.
I was halfway through my reading when Lyra's voice tore through the calm like a blade. "They sold us out! Those men led them here!"
Her next words cut sharper. "Bandits! Beast Masters prepare for combat!"
Her cry echoed across the cliffs, answered by the howls of beasts and the distant groan of shifting rock. The mountain itself seemed to wake in anger.
Before I could even lift my head, a surge of mana roared beside me.
"Ø' MÃÑÃ, HĒĒD MY WÎLL FØRM A BÀRRÎĒR ØF PRØTĒÇTÌØÑ!"
Alina's chant was swift and practiced. Water surged from the air, spiraling around us into a protective wall that shimmered like glass. Arrows whistled through the mist, but each one curved off-course the moment it touched the barrier, spinning harmlessly into the dirt.
Mother pulled me close, shielding my head though the magic held firm. Through the watery veil, I glimpsed shapes advancing men in ragged leathers, blades drawn, eyes wild. Their beasts followed wolves, boars, even a scaled creature that hissed through the fog.
The tarpaulin over our carriage tore away in the wind, revealing the chaos beyond.
We were surrounded.
At least twenty no, more. Some crouched on higher ledges with bows. Others flanked the path. To our left, a drop into nothing but mist. To our right, armed men and beasts waiting to strike.
Then their leader stepped forward.
He was huge, bald, and shirtless despite the chill, his chest a tapestry of scars. The grin he wore twisted his face into something monstrous.
"Well, well," he drawled, voice coarse like stone grinding. "What's this? A fine haul indeed. Leave the women and the kid alive, boys don't bruise the faces. Damaged goods fetch less coin."
The laughter that followed curdled my stomach.
My fingers clenched into my cloak. For the first time since coming to this world, something dark and furious stirred inside me sharp and burning.
But before I could move, Father's voice cut through the tension like a sword.
Even without magic sight, his words rang true. I could feel faint traces of mana flickering like dying embers around the enemy casters. Father's calm, hardened by years as a Crimson Moon adventurer, was terrifying in its steadiness.
He pulled on his gauntlets with a metallic click and barked, "Safeguard Formation!"
At once, his people moved.
Ronan rushed to the rear, spear in hand. Scarlet and Lyra took the left flank, weapons ready. Father and Darrin advanced toward the cliff, positioning themselves beneath the archers. Alina stood at the center, strengthening the barrier's density with fierce concentration.
Then she raised her hand and shouted,
"Ø' ÊÀRTH, RÎSĒ ÅÑD GÜÄRD MY KĪÑ BËÇØMÉ ØÜR PRØTÉÇTŌR!"
The ground trembled. A thick wall of stone erupted before Darrin, shielding the front from incoming arrows. Father dashed forward, using the wall as cover, his gauntlets flaring with crimson mana.
Lyra drew a breath, her bow glowing faintly blue.
"WÃTĒR BLÄDÉS!"
Dozens of water currents sliced through the fog like invisible blades, cutting across the enemy front line. Screams rose instantly harsh, ragged, and short-lived.
That was the cue.
Ronan and Scarlet lunged from cover, moving with deadly precision. Ronan's spear struck first, skewering one bandit through the chest. Scarlet followed, blade flashing as she severed another's arm cleanly. Each movement was efficient, brutal, and silent.
Within moments, the ground was slick with mud and blood.
I could barely see beyond the water's distortion, but I could feel the battle the tremors of each clash, the pounding rhythm of feet and fists.
Father caught an arrow midair with his gauntlet and snapped it in half. He charged through the smoke, punching an archer off the ledge with a single, mana-charged strike.
Lyra's breathing grew heavier, her leg bleeding from an embedded arrow near her calf. Still, she didn't falter. Her bow rose again, hands steady despite the pain.
"Warrior approaching your side!" Ronan shouted.
He spun, spear whirling in a wide arc that caught another attacker across the throat. Blood sprayed a fleeting crimson flash before the man fell lifeless.
Mother's arms tightened around me, pressing my head against her chest. I could feel her heart hammering, her body trembling though she tried to hide it.
Then a shadow loomed at the barrier's edge.
A middle-aged man, wild-eyed and wielding a machete, burst through the smoke. He lunged straight for Alina, his weapon swinging in a blur.
Everything slowed.
I tried to yell but before I could make a sound
THWACK!
The arrow struck first.
It buried itself in the man's chest, the force lifting him off the ground. His body hit the dirt several meters back, the machete slipping from his hand with a metallic clang.
Lyra lowered her bow only slightly, panting. Her eyes, fierce and unflinching, glowed faintly with mana. She drew another arrow in one smooth motion.
"Another," she whispered.
Her bowstring hummed, and the arrow shimmered air bending around it with raw energy. The shot released, slicing through the battlefield in a line of blue light. A distant scream followed, sharp and final.
The sound of the mountain wind filled the silence that followed heavy, wet, and cold.
I looked around. The bandits who had betrayed us were nowhere to be seen. Only their echoes remained the faint crunch of their retreating boots fading into the mist.
For a moment, I wondered if they regretted it. If the silver coins they must've been paid were worth this blood.
But the thought dissolved as quickly as it came.
Because Father's voice broke through the fading chaos, firm as iron."Clear the path. No survivors."
The fog rolled past us, carrying the scent of earth and death.
And as I looked up through the fading barrier, one thought lingered in my mind the first sharp truth I had learned in this new life:
Even the kindest faces can hide betrayal.
THWACK!
The sound reached my ears only after the arrow had already struck.
Lyra's shot hit the bandit dead in the chest, lifting him off the ground and slamming him several meters back. His machete dropped with a dull clang as he hit the dirt, pinned by the shaft.
Lyra exhaled slowly, lowering her bow for only a second before drawing another arrow from her quiver.
Her right eye glowed faintly with mana as she closed her left, focusing the shot. The arrow began to shimmer, the air around its tip humming with energy.
"Another," she whispered.
The bowstring released with a snap, and the arrow sliced through the howling wind like a streak of blue light its hiss cutting through the chaos as it sought its next mark.