With his hands folded behind him; Klyde stood motionless, his gaze lingering on the tragic scene he had caused in front of him.
The little girl, who had yet to be exposed to the cruelness of this world, was collapsed beside what was left of her brother, her hands trembling as she cradled his blackened face. Her eyes were wide in shock and grief, as tears streamed down her face.
Such a scene would stir the hearts of many, but Klyde knew not to overcomplicate his decision to kill.
It was simply an effective method to get what he was after.
To be sentimental over the trivial ending of a life was merely a burden created by oneself, a poison which eats away at your resolve.
The act of killing was simple, and required an equally simple thought process when doing so.
Vengeance, justice, good or bad... it's all irrelevant. To use such excuses when taking a life would simply make you a hypocrite — so why overthink it?
Without expression, Klyde exhaled softly and moved.
His steps were measured and slow, crunching over the scorched grass.
He stopped a few feet away from the girl and looked down on her with a cold gaze.
"Get up."
His voice was one of indifference, as though she were barely worth addressing.
Rebecca flinched at the voice. Her grip on her brother's remains loosened, but she remained still, not daring to move. It was like understanding that a tiger is behind you, and all you can hope for is that the terrible nightmare will come to an end...
"I have no interest in repeating myself," Klyde continued with a bored expression.
"Lead me to your village. Or die here beside him." He partially raised his hand, an eerie motion which reminded her of how he had taken her brother's life. It felt suffocating, like a snake which was about to wrap around her throat, quickly snapping the girl from her chaotic state of mind.
Her lips parted to speak. However, no words came out.
The emotions she was currently feeling was simply too much for her to handle, stuck in a state of sobbing and sheer petrifaction.
However, with Klyde's demand, Rebecca knew she had to obey. She didn't doubt that he would instantly kill her.
The threat lingered like a blade pressed to her neck. Thus, with her entire body trembling, Rebecca hurriedly got to her feet, stumbling.
She looked liked a dim candle, swaying about like a sapling in an unforgiving storm.
She turned wordlessly, and began walking.
Klyde observed expressionlessly. After picking up the severed head of the corpse, he followed the girl's direction whilst dragging his horse along.
...
The village soon came into view — a humble cluster of thatched homes and fields of wild herbs.
Rebecca's steps faltered as they approached. Her body quivered beneath the sun's glow, like a leaf trapped in a blizzard. Her face was pale and streaked with dried tears.
Some villagers had already noticed them.
The girl's disheveled state and her reddened eyes was enough to draw wary stares. Whispers began to stir among the peasants who worked in the outer fields.
Then, one of them gasped.
"Rebecca…?"
An old woman had dropped her basket, rushing forward a few steps before freezing in place.
The sight of the severed head swaying from Klyde's grip had silenced her.
More villagers began to notice the commotion. As the village was relatively small, everyone knew each other. Thus, it didn't take much effort to recognise the village head's granddaughter.
Then, from the crowd, emerged a broad-shouldered man with scarred forearms and a heavy woodcutter's axe strapped to his back. His eyes landed on Rebecca, before they narrowed at the stranger next to her.
"Who are you?" he barked, stepping forward. "Why is she in this state? Speak!"
Rebecca's mouth trembled. She lifted her hand weakly. "Don't—"
But the man had already drawn his axe.
Klyde didn't give a response.
With a cold smirk, there was a sudden flash of movement.
In the next instant, his palm struck forward before the man could react.
Pa!
A dull thud echoed through the clearing.
The man took a few steps back from the impact, surprised at the sudden attack.
Rebecca stared with wide eyes, an ominous feeling welling up inside her. She knew those moments all too well.
"No—!"
Boom!
Before anyone could comprehend what had happened, an explosion quickly sounded, creating a wave of heat felt by everyone near the vicinity.
The blast shredded the man's torso open. Flesh and blood sprayed across the dry soil as the remnants of the charred body crumpled to the ground, twitching once, then falling still.
A cry tore through the silence. Villagers screamed, some turning to run, others paralyzed with fear.
Within moments, a crowd had begun gathering in a loose circle.
Each were wide-eyed, pale-faced, and whispering like frightened insects.
The commotion had become too large, and it wasn't long before an old man emerged from one of the central dwellings.
His back was slightly hunched, but his steps were steady and calm. A long staff tapped rhythmically against the ground as he walked. His beard was gray, and his eyes were shadowed with wisdom.
Rebecca quickly ran to him, tears forming in her eyes as her emotions erupted out once more. This figure which was the village head had been someone she had always relied on, feeling a sense of safety.
"Grandfather! T-That man!" Her voice was choked, finding it difficult to speak.
"Calm down first," the old man said with a calm expression, before directing his gaze towards the cause of the commotion.
"You must be the village head." Klyde stepped forward with an insurmountable demeanor, his cold gaze falling on the old man.
With a casual wave of his arm, he threw a severed head.
Plop.
It rolled near the old man's feet, causing the man to wear a grim expression once he realised it was his grandson.
More than that, he realised the precarious situation that their village was in from the state of the two corpses, both in which had been created by this boy in front of him.
A Magus!
With the old man's wisdom, he had experienced many things and lived a long life. Thus, he understood the gravity of this situation.
He quickly adopted a respectful demeanor and bowed, before saying, "Master Magus, to what do I owe your esteemed self from visiting our humble village?"
"Your grandson dared to raise his weapon against me, so I killed him. I had actually planned to forget this offence after getting an apology, but..." He shot a disdainful look at the other corpse.
"Truly detestable things."
"You!" The young girl, who had gained some of her courage back by hiding behind her grandfather, revealed her anger and resentment. "It was clearly you who had struck first—"
Smack!
A sharp sound reverberated before she could continue speaking.
"Grandfather... you?" Rebecca held her red cheek. This was the first time her grandfather had ever laid a hand on her.
The old man shot her a furious gaze as he reprimanded her, "Foolish girl! You do not understand anything!"
He then turned to Klyde.
"This is simply all a misunderstanding," he said slowly, his voice steady and with the upmost respect. "Please, allow me to offer our sincerest apologies on behalf of this foolish village and my stupid grandchildren. The young ones do not know the vastness of the world. If there is anything we can do, our humble village will surely try to make amends."
Klyde narrowed his eyes.
The villagers remained frozen like cattle in the presence of a wolf, their head lowered. None dared lift their gaze, for fear that they too would become scorched corpses.
Klyde showed a faint smirk, his eerie gaze unreadable. "You have some sense, old man. Then I won't waste time."
"I'm looking for the Bloodsoul Flower," Klyde said. "Bring it to me."