The roar of the wind preceded his arrival, as though the storm itself announced his coming. There were no horse neighs, nor the sound of hooves on the ground, only a swirling gust of air that gathered in the center of the ruined square, scattering dust and ash in all directions before fading away, leaving a man standing firmly at its center.
His white cloak, embroidered with gold, fluttered softly, carried by invisible breezes, while his silver armor reflected the faint glow of the sun, making him appear as a living legend. He didn't need to announce his name; his fame had already preceded him to this place, and his name alone was enough to instill a mixture of fear, awe, and hope in the hearts of those who saw him.
The square…
The city resembled an abandoned graveyard.
The shattered houses, the streets covered in rubble, and the columns of smoke still rising from some corners painted a scene resembling hell on earth.
The citizens were there, but they were not as they had been before. Their faces were pale, their eyes vacant, their bodies marked with wounds and bruises, and their souls still stuck between the shock of the past and the uncertainty of the future. Some were sitting on the ground, staring blankly into space, as if the pain had paralyzed their minds, while others stood trying to help the wounded, with trembling hands and eyes filled with sorrow.
Children hid behind their mothers, women wept silently, and the elderly stared at the rubble as though searching for the ruins of their homes that would never return.
As for the private security forces, they were in a pitiful state. Some were lying on the ground, unable to move due to the severity of their injuries, while others sat leaning against half-destroyed walls, their eyes heavy with defeat, their clothes torn and stained with blood. Among them stood a few who still clutched their weapons, but their grips were weak, as though they were on the verge of surrender.
When their eyes fell upon Franco, a moment of absolute silence passed. It wasn't a silence of fear, nor one of relief, but a complicated mix of both. They knew who he was, and they knew what his presence here meant… it meant that justice was about to be restored, one way or another.
"Who was responsible for this?"
His voice was calm but piercing, like a sharp sword. It wasn't a question, but more like an unspoken command to provide an answer.
One of the surviving soldiers, a young man in his mid-twenties, barely able to stand due to his wounds, but his gaze still held pride, pointed to the ruins of a large building, where flames were still burning in some corners.
"They came from there… we had no chance of stopping them."
Franco didn't reply immediately. Instead, he raised his hand slightly, and a light breeze stirred, as though it carried the secrets of the place.
His cold eyes scanned the wreckage, as if he could see the scene as it was before the disaster, searching for traces of the sins committed here. In a moment, he closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again, his compassion completely extinguished from within.
"I am here now."
His words were simple, yet they carried a strange weight in the hearts of those who heard them.
He moved among the debris, his steps as steady as though the earth itself bent for him. Every time he passed by a citizen, it felt as though he had restored a part of their broken soul, as if his mere presence could bring back something of what they had lost.
But Franco was not here for pity… he was here for justice.
He raised his hand, and the wind blew forcefully, scattering the ash and dust, revealing the bloodstained ground beneath. At that moment, his element, the wind, was revealed, and his full name was Francesco Franco, the Sacred Knight.
It seemed they were in the next city, but damn, it was living there; I must hurry, or it could be in danger, but I trust that things will be taken care of by Marie Ethan. However, as declared here, there are two of them, which caused me a moment of anxiety for her and the citizens.
This city wasn't destroyed by stones… but by the broken hearts before them. It wasn't invaded by swords, but by silence in the face of injustice, by the betrayal that grew in the silence."
He paused for a moment, then pointed to a wall stained with black and blood:
"Here… a child was killed before his mother, not because he was a fighter, but because he was born in the wrong place. And there… an elderly man was stabbed in the chest because he tried to protect his neighbor. What do you call this? A victory?"
His eyes narrowed slightly, and his voice carried a harsh tone, as if he could no longer bear it:
"This is not a war… this is a masked massacre. Blood on the sidewalks, blood on the walls, blood in the screams of those who survived. And I…"
He lifted his head toward the smoke-filled sky:
"…did not come just for peace. I came to hold them accountable. To return the balance of justice to its rightful place. If there is anything to fear from me… let it be this."
The wind around him suddenly bent, as though it understood the man's intentions, and grew stronger as if preparing to accompany his sword wherever he pointed.
Then he moved through the silence, and behind him, new steps began to follow. The steps of those who had not lost hope… or of those to whom it had returned.
He swore to kill everyone responsible for this.
The ground cracked beneath his feet as he sped forward, his body nothing more than a shadow dancing between the moonlight and the scattered reflections of fire from the burning corpses of the beasts. In the heart of the dark forest, the screams of the beasts tore through the silence, but Niel cared for nothing but one thing: annihilation.
A massive beast with petrified skin lunged at him with its claws, but the moment its claws aimed to pierce him, Niel disappeared.
"Slow."
That was the only word he said before appearing above the beast's head, his slender sword cutting through the air. A clean, swift cut, no chance for resistance. In less than a second, the massive head fell, and blood splattered like red fountains, staining Niel's body. He didn't even care.
Other beasts surrounded the area, their roars acting as an announcement of their impending deaths. Niel didn't stand defensively; he attacked first.
He kicked the ground, causing it to explode beneath his feet, and rushed toward one of them with terrifying speed. His fist pierced the first beast's chest, tearing its ribs and ripping its heart out before crushing it in his hand.
Another beast attempted to ambush him from behind, but the moment it raised its claws, Niel spun around with his body quickly, his eyes shining like burning embers.
"You're not the first, and you won't be the last."
He thrust his hand forward, and a lethal beam shot through the beast before its body exploded into chunks of shredded flesh.
One after another, the beasts fell. Some didn't even have a chance to scream. In the end, Niel stood among the corpses, blood dripping from his arms and sword, which seemed like it wasn't satisfied yet.
He looked ahead, where only one beast remained, its body trembling with fear. It was larger than the others, but even its size didn't stop its shivering. Niel smiled, not out of joy, but out of boredom.
"Oh… is there one left? I thought you all were done."
He raised his sword, but the beast didn't move. The fight wasn't fair. It wasn't even a battle. It was a one-sided massacre.
Niel sighed, then spoke in a low voice:
"Well, let's finish this."
In an instant, the beast was nothing but the echo of its last scream, fading into the darkness of the forest.
Niel stood in the heart of the valley, where the winds whipped through his madness, and the trees bent as though they were watching the coming massacre. In his eyes, this was just training, another phase in the evolution he was pursuing.
"Speed alone is not enough," he murmured, looking at his hands before closing his eyes.
He could hear the pulse of the earth beneath him, feel the vibrations of the wind passing through his fingers. Then, in a moment, he disappeared.
It wasn't an ordinary disappearance; it was as if the space itself tore. He reappeared meters away without leaving a trace, then again, and again. Each time he moved, his steps became faster, his disappearances purer, as though he had never existed.
"It's not enough…"
He raised his hand, and magical energy gathered around it, wind whirlpools began to form, but it still wasn't enough. Combining speed with magic required something deeper… something more dangerous.
He sighed, then looked at one of the giant rocks that were dozens of times larger than him.
"Well, let's see if I can crush you before you even realize I've moved."
In an instant, his body vanished completely, and he appeared right in front of the rock. But instead of attacking, he disappeared again. Then once more. The only sign of his movement was the echo of his steps.
Then... the rock exploded.
No weapon was seen, no visible strike, yet the massive rock shattered from the inside, as if something invisible had torn it apart from several angles.
Niel stood there, watching the dust dissipate, then smiled lightly.
"Not bad… but I can be faster."
In the heart of the beasts' lairs, where there was no light or sound but the echo of his steps, Niel stood in the emptiness. The air here was different, charged with raw energy, heavy enough that even the strongest warriors might collapse under its weight. But Niel? He breathed it in, as if it was part of him, as though he was born to be here.
Months passed as he fought, shattered, destroyed, and rebuilt himself anew. The speed he had reached was unnatural. He moved between gusts of wind, as if he were part of it, only seen as a fleeting glimpse before he brought down his prey. As for magic? It was no longer just a tool he used, but something that pulsed within him, an extension of his will.
He stood there, his body covered in superficial wounds, his clothes torn, but he was calm, composed. His eyes fixed on the emptiness ahead, where he felt its presence... the being he had been waiting for.
Then, the silence exploded.
A low scream, as if it came from the depths of the world itself, engulfed the place, and the rocks around him began to fragment. The air grew suffocating, and the walls trembled, as if the entire lair was trying to flee.
Out of nowhere, darkness opened its eyes.
Two at first, then four, then dozens of glowing red eyes, watching him from the void. Then, a massive being emerged, its limbs like shards of sharp objects, its body swallowing light as if it were a living black hole. It wasn't just another monster... it was something beyond logic, a being that transcended even the concepts Niel had about power.
"You've finally arrived."
The voice wasn't just a growl, but a hum that resonated in his mind, as if the creature wasn't speaking with its mouth, but communicating directly with his thoughts.
Niel didn't move away, didn't retreat. He stood firm, his eyes never flinching even as he stared at this beast that seemed to embody everything he had killed before, but magnified by a hundredfold.
Then, he smiled.
"And finally... something worth all this trouble."
He raised his hand, and the world around him changed. The winds no longer swirled chaotically around him... instead, they became obedient, organized, gathering around his body as if they were a living shield, waiting for him to give the signal to launch.
And when he opened his eyes again, there was no trace of fear or anxiety.
"Come on... show me what you've got."
Many of the battles are about survival in the end.