Leonhard ran through the darkened woods, his breath heavy, his heart pounding in his chest. The screams of the villagers echoed behind him—shrieks of terror, cries for mercy, and the sickening laughter of bandits. His fists clenched at his sides.
Why should he care?
They had done nothing but push him away, treating him like an outcast, a freak. When his father disappeared, they whispered behind his back, called him the son of a heretic. His mother had struggled because of them. He owed them nothing.
Yet—
His legs slowed. His steps grew heavy.
He gritted his teeth.
"Damn it… why am I so kind?"
The moment he turned back toward the village, a burst of fire exploded in the distance. The sky glowed an eerie orange, smoke rising in thick, curling plumes. As he reached the village outskirts, the sight before him made his blood boil.
Bodies littered the streets—some dead, some still twitching. The bandits moved like wolves, their grins wide with sick pleasure. A man clawed at his throat, gurgling as a sword was ripped from his neck. A woman's screams pierced the night as she was dragged into the shadows. Children cowered behind broken carts, their small hands clamped over their mouths.
Leonhard's vision blurred with rage.
And then—
A spark.
The flames from the burning houses twisted unnaturally, bending toward him. They licked at his skin, but they did not burn. The ground trembled beneath his feet, cracks forming in the dirt.
The bandits turned.
One of them grinned. "Well, well, look who came back."
Leonhard raised his hand.
The flames answered.
Fire erupted from the ground, swirling into a roaring inferno. A wave of heat blasted through the street, turning the air thick with the stench of burning flesh. The nearest bandits didn't even have time to scream before they were engulfed, their bodies writhing as their flesh bubbled and blackened. Their eyes melted in their sockets. Their skin peeled away in sheets, curling like burnt paper.
One of them stumbled forward, his jaw hanging open in a silent scream. His legs gave out beneath him, and he crumpled to the ground, a charred husk.
The others froze, eyes wide with terror.
"What the hell is that kid?!"
Leonhard didn't answer.
He raised his other hand.
The earth rumbled. Thick, thorn-covered vines exploded from the ground, writhing like hungry serpents.
A bandit turned to run—
A vine lashed out, wrapping around his throat. He let out a choked gasp as the thorns sank deep, blood pouring down his chest. His body jerked violently as the vine twisted, snapping his neck with a sickening crunch.
Another bandit charged at Leonhard with a sword raised high.
Leonhard didn't flinch.
A flick of his wrist sent a vine bursting from the ground, impaling the man through the stomach. The sword clattered from his grip as he looked down, eyes wide in horror. Blood gushed from the wound, his mouth opening and closing like a dying fish. The vine twisted inside him, ripping him apart from the inside out.
Another bandit tried to flee.
Leonhard pointed at him.
A thin stream of fire shot from his fingertips, piercing straight through the man's chest. The bandit let out a strangled gasp, his ribcage glowing red-hot as flames erupted from inside him. His skin bulged and cracked—then exploded, chunks of burning flesh splattering across the ground.
The last bandit dropped his weapon, falling to his knees. His body shook violently.
"P-please," he sobbed. "I was just following orders—"
Leonhard stared down at him, his golden eyes glowing through the flames.
"You were going to let them suffer," he said quietly.
The bandit let out a strangled whimper.
Leonhard clenched his fist.
The bandit's body ignited instantly, his shrieks of agony cutting through the night as the fire devoured him. His skin melted off in layers, his flesh turning to ash before he finally collapsed, silent.
The battle was over.
Leonhard stood in the center of the carnage, blood dripping from his fingertips. Flames swirled around him, forming wheels of fire that cast his shadow across the ruins of the village. The ground beneath him was scorched black, littered with bodies burned beyond recognition.
Slowly, the villagers emerged from their hiding places.
They should have been relieved.
They should have thanked him.
But instead—
They stared at him with horror.
Their faces were pale. Their bodies trembled.
They weren't looking at a savior.
They were looking at a monster.
Leonhard met their fearful gazes, his expression unreadable.
Then, from the crowd, someone whispered:
"He's just like his father."
A shiver ran through the villagers.
Leonhard's breath hitched.
They weren't grateful.
They weren't saved.
They were afraid.
The fire around him flickered.
His hands clenched into fists.
Then, without another word—
He turned and walked away.