Year X771 —
Location: Rosemary Village
Age: Ren (6) | Erza (6)
---
Morning arrived the way it always did in Rosemary Village—quietly, politely, as if it didn't want to disturb anyone's peace.
That, Ren would later think, was the cruelest part.
He woke before the sun, breath already steady, body tuned to the rhythm he had trained into himself over countless days.
In.
Out.
The wooden ceiling above him looked unchanged. The faint smell of bread from Mrs. Halwen's oven still drifted through the house. Erza lay a short distance away, curled on her side, red hair fanned out like a protective flame even in sleep.
> Everything looks the same.
That thought unsettled him.
Ren sat up slowly, careful not to wake her. His chest felt… tight. Not pain. Not fear. Something closer to anticipation mixed with dread.
> [Great Sage: Advisory — Emotional dissonance detected. External variables unstable.]
Ren didn't respond.
He didn't need to.
---
The village stirred as the sun climbed higher. Chickens clucked. A cart rattled over the dirt road. Children laughed somewhere near the well.
Ren helped Mrs. Halwen carry sacks of flour from the storage room. His arms trembled slightly under the weight, but he adjusted his breathing and compensated.
"…You're stronger every week," she said warmly. "Your parents would be proud."
The words hit him like a stone dropped into still water.
Ren smiled anyway. "…Thank you."
> They would've been. But they aren't here.
Outside, Erza was practicing swings with a wooden sword—slow, controlled, deliberate. Not flashy. Not wild. Each movement had intent.
Ren watched her for a moment.
> She's changing too.
She noticed his gaze and scowled. "…What."
"…Nothing," he said. "Just thinking you'll outgrow that sword soon."
"…It'll outgrow me first," she replied flatly, then paused. "…Did you sleep."
"…Enough."
She narrowed her eyes. "…That wasn't an answer."
He shrugged lightly. "…It was an honest one."
She huffed but didn't press further.
That should have been the end of it.
It wasn't.
---
The break came near noon.
It started with shouting.
Not loud at first—just raised voices near the village entrance. Ren froze mid-step, senses sharpening instantly.
Erza did too.
"…That's not normal," she muttered.
They exchanged a glance and moved together without speaking.
Three men stood near the old fence. Travelers—dusty cloaks, hardened expressions. One of them had grabbed Mr. Fenly by the collar. Another kicked over a basket of herbs, scattering them into the dirt.
"…We asked nicely," the tallest man said. "Now we're done asking."
"…This is a peaceful village," Mr. Fenly pleaded. "We don't have money like that—"
"Then we'll take something else."
Ren felt it then.
Not killing intent.
But entitlement.
> [Great Sage: Threat assessment — Moderate danger. Probability of escalation: High.]
Erza stepped forward.
Ren caught her wrist.
"…Wait," he whispered.
She rounded on him, eyes blazing. "…They're hurting him."
"I know."
"…Then let go."
He didn't.
"…This is the choice," he said quietly. "…Right now."
Her jaw tightened.
"…If we do nothing—"
"I'm not saying that," he interrupted softly. "I'm saying we don't rush."
One of the men shoved Mr. Fenly to the ground.
That decided it.
Ren released her wrist.
"…Together," he said.
She nodded once.
---
They didn't charge.
They walked.
Two children, small steps, calm faces.
The men laughed when they noticed them.
"…Look at this," one sneered. "Village brats playing heroes."
Ren stopped a few steps away.
"…Please let him go," he said clearly.
The tallest man raised an eyebrow. "…Or what."
Ren met his gaze.
"…Or you'll regret staying."
It wasn't a threat.
It was a statement.
Something in Ren's voice made the man hesitate.
Erza stepped beside him, sword raised—not high, not aggressive. Just ready.
"…You're in our home," she said. "…And you're done here."
The pause that followed was heavy.
Then the man laughed again, harsher this time.
"…Break them," he said.
Everything happened at once.
---
Ren moved first—not forward, but sideways.
He shoved Mr. Fenly back as a fist swung down where his head had been. Pain exploded across Ren's shoulder as another blow grazed him, but he kept breathing.
In.
Out.
Erza shouted and swung—clean, precise. The wooden sword cracked against a knee. The man screamed and fell.
Chaos erupted.
Ren felt hands grab him. He twisted, slipping free more by instinct than strength. He saw a knife flash.
> Too far.
The blade cut his arm.
Warmth spilled.
Time slowed.
> [Great Sage: Emergency response recommended.]
"No," Ren whispered.
He didn't know why he said it.
But something inside him fractured.
Not his calm.
His restraint.
Ren stepped forward and struck.
Not hard.
Not wild.
Just… exactly where it mattered.
The man collapsed, breath gone.
Silence followed—broken only by ragged breathing.
The remaining attacker fled.
---
The village stood frozen.
Ren stared at his bleeding arm.
> I crossed it.
Erza rushed to him, hands shaking. "…Ren—your arm—"
"I'm fine," he said automatically.
It wasn't true.
But the pain wasn't what scared him.
It was the looks.
Fear.
Awe.
Distance.
Mrs. Halwen pulled him into a hug, crying. Mr. Fenly thanked them over and over. Voices overlapped.
Ren barely heard any of it.
> Strength brought attention.
This time, there was no forest.
No shadows.
Everyone had seen.
That night, the village was quieter than usual.
Too quiet.
Ren sat alone near the well, staring at the water.
Erza joined him after a while.
"…You didn't hesitate," she said.
"…I did," he replied. "Just not long enough."
She was silent.
"…Did it feel wrong," she asked.
Ren thought carefully.
"…No," he said. "…It felt necessary."
She nodded slowly.
"…Something still broke."
"Yes."
"…Us?"
He shook his head. "…No. How they see us."
She exhaled sharply.
"…Then we really can't drift anymore."
Ren looked at her.
"…No," he agreed. "…We can't."
The moon reflected in the well—cracked by ripples.
> This was the day something broke. Not the village. Not us.
The illusion.
And once broken—
—it would never fully mend.
---
End of Chapter 25 🌙🩸