Several hours had passed. During that time, Ace continued wandering among the crops. Dewdrops gathered on the leaves, glistening like scattered shards of diamond atop a green carpet. Delicate spiderwebs shimmered between the branches, reflecting the light of the twin moons with an enchanting glow. Nothing appeared different from how it had been at dusk, so he made his way toward the barns, where silence reigned—broken only by the irregular breathing of the animals, betraying their anxiety and fear.
He inspected the area, scanning every dark corner and listening for the faintest sound. Everything seemed in order. Yet, the silence carried an unsettling weight, as if the entire farm were holding its breath, anticipating something to happen. He paused for a moment, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a small device. Its cracked screen briefly lit up his face, revealing features hardened by intense focus.
"Approximately five minutes until midnight," he said quietly, before returning the device to his pocket.
He stepped toward the farm's back gate, where the air was colder, its taste dry and biting against the skin. Still, it was far from the cruelty of the winds he had endured on previous nights. He lifted his head to the sky, where stars danced in a sea of darkness, then carefully scanned the expanse ahead of him.
The distant tall grass swayed with the breeze. He exhaled slowly, watching his breath rise in white wisps that quickly vanished into the frigid air. The five minutes passed, and gradually, something shifted. It felt as if an unseen presence had slipped into the atmosphere. Suddenly, everything became still—too still—and then came the sounds.
At first, they were faint—whispers brushing the edges of hearing. But they grew louder with each passing moment. The rising sound was accompanied by a pungent, heavy odor that crept into his nose without warning. It wasn't the scent of damp earth or moist vegetation, but something entirely different—something closer to the smell of blood.
He reached for his pocket and pulled out a small flashlight, his trusted companion. Pressing the button, he cast a beam of light that pierced through the darkness, parting the tangled grass like a curtain. He stepped forward slowly, eyes fixed on the shadowed patches where the sounds grew more intense. The sensation was undeniable: he was not alone.
He knew the beam of the flashlight would give away his position, but he also understood he would not be an easy prey for whatever lurked in the shadows. Gradually, he narrowed the flashlight's focus into a sharp spear of light, then aimed it at the deepest point among the grass. He moved the beam cautiously, tracking every tremor with his eyes. He didn't wait long before he saw them—glowing red dots, like tiny embers, moving slowly between the blades of grass. They appeared and vanished, pulsing as if alive.
The eyes moved in pairs, silently tracking his steps, measuring the distance between them and him, waiting for the right moment to strike. The sight was not new to him. He had seen those burning eyes before, following him from between the trees, watching patiently from afar. But this time, he knew those eyes did not belong to mere woodland creatures—they belonged to a threat that had to be eliminated.
Quietly, he gripped the hilt of his military dagger, his fingers tightening around the cold handle. As the blade slid free, it caught the light like a warrior preparing for battle. His eyes never left the grass, now shaking more violently, as if unveiling what lay hidden. And then, the creatures finally emerged.
At first glance, they looked like nothing more than small white rabbits—soft, innocent, as if sprung from a child's dream. But there was something off in their features. Without warning, their appearance shifted. Their soft fur bristled, transforming into something akin to spines—a natural armor. Hidden fangs emerged from their small jaws, gleaming under the moonlight, long and sharp like honed daggers. These were not gentle beings; they were instruments of death, altered by nature into merciless predators.
They gave him no time to think. In a single coordinated burst, they lunged at him, moving in erratic patterns, leaping from side to side in an attempt to confuse him before closing in. But Ace's eyes tracked them with precision. Despite the darkness and their rapid movements, he was able to count them in an instant—six small rabbits. Yet they didn't need to be larger to be deadly.
As the first one neared him, it sprang like a spear from a killer's bow—its bared fangs glinting, tiny arms extended with claws as sharp as knives. But Ace was not to be taken easily.
In a flash, he swung his dagger, slicing through the air—a swift, precise strike that cleaved the darkness. There was no hesitation. The blow was clean, severing the rabbit's head from its body in an instant, like a sharp sword cutting through a falling leaf.
The head hit the ground first, rolling away, as the body collapsed in another direction, twitching briefly before going still. Dark blood spurted like a small fountain, soaking the grass. The remaining rabbits froze at the sight, their glowing eyes locked on their fallen companion's corpse, as if trying to comprehend what had just happened. But the moment didn't last.
Their heads lifted, exchanging quick glances, then they charged again—this time, not in chaos but with coordinated intent, like a team executing a planned maneuver. Some attempted to distract, while others circled around the young man, realizing their prey was not as vulnerable as they had thought. In a flash, they all leapt, attacking from every direction like a storm of fur and claws.
Ace's body moved like that of a seasoned assassin, flowing through the darkness. His dagger gleamed, slicing through the shadows. Every motion was deliberate. Every strike, lethal.
The sound of tearing flesh and metal hitting bone mingled with the shrieks of the dying rabbits, which dropped one after another. Their bodies hit the ground, their blood spraying like red mist. The area around him quickly turned into a miniature battlefield, littered with torn corpses—some still trembling in their final spasms before falling silent forever.
Ace exhaled deeply, releasing the exhaustion from his swift movements. But his moment of rest didn't last. Soon, new sounds reached his ears, and within moments, more heads rose—another group of rabbits emerged, unlike the first.
They didn't move erratically or attack recklessly. They stood in organized rows like a small battalion—more than twenty in number—awaiting a signal, a command to strike. Their eyes weren't just glowing dots; they radiated intelligence, as though they had studied the young man's fighting style through the scout unit he had just faced.
They advanced in harmony, moving as a compact force. Then, they stopped. From within the gathering of snow-white fur emerged something completely different—something that shattered the eerie symmetry. A rabbit unlike any other.
It was small compared to its peers, but its presence was overwhelming, its mere existence enough to instill fear. Its fur was black—not ordinary black, but a darkness that seemed to absorb all light, as though the night itself had taken shape in the form of a creature. Its eyes were not red, but glowing blue—cold, spectral, like harbingers of unavoidable death. Yet they didn't hold the same wild aggression as the others. Rather, they reflected cunning intelligence and a sinister awareness of its power.
At first glance, one might mistake it for a harmless little rabbit. But Ace, with his innate instinct, understood the truth instantly. This creature was not just another member of the pack. It was the true leader—the deadliest predator among them.
His grip on the dagger tightened. Every nerve in his body warned him: the next confrontation would not be easy.
For a moment, the air felt heavier, in sync with the black rabbit's first movement. Its steps were light, cautious. Its fangs weren't visible at first, but when the twin moons' light hit them, they gleamed—long and black. Its claws matched, sharp as blades meant to tear flesh effortlessly. It looked like a finely crafted engine of death.
The rabbits ahead of it parted, their little heads bowing in an unmistakable sign of deference. When it was just a few meters away from Ace, the demonic rabbit stopped. Its piercing eyes studied its opponent. Then, in an instant, it vanished. No sound. No motion. Just gone—like the darkness had swallowed it, as if its presence had been a hallucination.
Ace's eyes darted around, searching desperately for any trace of the small creature, trying to anticipate an attack. Then suddenly, he felt a strange sensation—a warmth spreading across his chest. Looking down, he saw his clothes torn, as if sliced by an invisible blade. Blood trickled slowly. The wound wasn't fatal, but it was enough to alert him to the danger he now faced. He looked up, narrowing his eyes, to find the black rabbit had returned to its spot, standing still as if nothing had happened.
That move had been merely a test—a sample of its speed and precision. Ace felt a chill creep up his spine, realizing how fast the creature could move. He raised his dagger, a clear challenge. The rabbit didn't hesitate. Once again, it vanished.
But this time, Ace was ready.
He followed the blur of movement with his eyes. The place turned into a whirlwind of motion—a battlefield cloaked in chaos. Successive attacks fell upon him like black tempests from all sides. Ace barely kept up with the blistering speed. Each movement was a flash, followed by the clang of metal. Sparks flew with every clash, lighting the scene like stars joining the fight. Every echoing strike was met by another, faster and fiercer. Every step Ace took, the creature had already taken three.
Despite his skill and reflexes, some attacks slipped through, leaving shallow cuts across his body. They weren't deep, but they burned. Still, Ace did not yield, even while battling what seemed to be a living shadow.
The storm lasted only moments before the rabbit returned to its position among its soldiers. Its body trembled, breath quickened, while its opponent remained calm, sharp eyes locked in silent assessment.
The little rabbit kept staring at his opponent with wide eyes, as if trying to comprehend what had happened. His prey had always fallen the moment he unleashed his attacks—but this young man was different. Though his body was riddled with wounds, his confidence remained unshaken. He stood firm, unwavering, and the look in his eyes sent a shiver of danger through the rabbit's heart, a feeling unfamiliar to him.
In stark contrast, Ace's breathing was calm and steady. The anger in his eyes didn't stem from pain, but from something else entirely—the tattered clothes, shredded by the rabbit's attacks. Clothes that the little girl had spent so much time sewing, pouring all her care and affection into every stitch.
Ace examined the torn threads, and a furious expression overtook his face. His eyes sparked as he stepped forward silently. The aura radiating from him in that moment was enough to ignite fear in the hearts of the other rabbits. Their leader flinched for a brief second—not out of fear, but from an innate instinct, a gut feeling that his opponent had changed.
Still, he refused to back down—or so he tried to convince himself. His foot betrayed him, retreating a small step backward, barely noticeable, but it did not escape the eyes of his followers. A wave of unease swept through them as they exchanged glances filled with doubt. Sensing this, the small rabbit's fury surged. He questioned how they could doubt his strength. How could he allow them to witness even the slightest crack in his intimidation?
He let out a fierce growl, his voice sharp and piercing. His black fur rippled, and his eyes gleamed with savage madness.
But Ace didn't stop. His features grew more resolute as he continued to advance. The ominous aura surrounding his opponent seemed to him no more than a light mist. To the rabbit, however, the scene was bewildering. He had always been the source of terror, yet now he stood before an adversary who knew no fear. Some rabbits in the back trembled, a few even stepped away, giving their leader more space, as if offering him a final chance to prove himself.
The small rabbit tensed his body, muscles swelling with the realization that one moment could decide between victory and the fall of someone who believed himself unbeatable. The dark aura around him pulsed with a deep crimson tint, radiating malevolence—an energy Ace could sense clearly.
Then, in a burst of courage befitting a leader of his stature, the black rabbit launched forward with a speed that surpassed anything he had shown before. It was as if the air itself split to make way for his ferocious charge. Blades of grass flew in all directions as if reacting to the sheer force of his movement. Every taut muscle in his body released like a drawn bowstring, and his burning eyes locked onto the young man with deadly focus.
Mid-charge, he leapt—his sharp claws extending like daggers meant to rip life away. But in a flash, like a lightning bolt slicing through darkness, the young man vanished. There was no trace—no sound, no shadow—only an empty void.
The small rabbit's eyes widened in astonishment, his breath caught in his throat. But there was no time for answers.
Suddenly, the world in front of his eyes split apart. The same scene—the barn, the grass, the prey that had once awaited their fate—was now divided into two perfect halves. His mind couldn't grasp what had just happened, but his body felt it—a cold sensation, as if a sharp blade had passed through him. It seeped into his very being. The glow in his eyes faded, and life left them as if a candle had been snuffed out by a sudden wind.
His small body dropped to the ground like a discarded puppet—cleanly cut into two halves. Dark blue blood trickled across the grass like an artist's stroke painting the end of a once-proud leader who believed himself invincible.
For a moment, the smaller rabbits didn't move. It was as though shock had frozen time. They held their breath, their little eyes fixed only on their fallen leader, now lying in two lifeless parts. Then realization struck, and panic erupted in their ranks.
Their small bodies quivered, their faces baring tiny fangs. Red eyes widened until they looked ready to pop from their sockets. Their feet couldn't find traction on the ground. Long ears drooped in fear, as if their instincts screamed the undeniable truth: there was no longer a path to victory. No leader. No protector. They understood that death was all that awaited if they stayed.
Chaos broke out. The rabbits began to leap and run, crashing into each other through the grass. No clear direction—only a single instinct guiding them: escape before death caught up.
Their screams became a dissonant symphony. Tiny feet pounded the earth, bodies flew in every direction, claws scratched at the soil, kicking up clouds of dust and shredded grass. It was clear that fear had overtaken all of them—fleeing, clinging to whatever hope of survival remained. Some followed clearer paths, while others collided in confusion. A few stood frozen, uncertain of where to go, awaiting their grim fate.
Amid this chaos, Ace stood still. His chest rose and fell under the weight of exhaustion. He watched the scene unfold. The final move he had executed to end the black rabbit had drained much of his energy, but he wasn't going to leave the mission incomplete. He couldn't allow those creatures to escape. They might return one day—and pose a threat again.
Showing mercy could spell disaster for the elderly couple at the farm. So he had no choice but to sacrifice one of his precious resources—something he had hoped to avoid unless the situation truly demanded it. Reaching to the small pouch on his lower back, Ace pulled out a smooth metallic sphere. He raised it in front of him. Though small in size, it carried the promise of devastating power.
He took a deep breath, steadying himself, then pressed his thumb against the button on its center. Instantly, the display on its surface lit up, and the countdown began.
He assumed a throwing stance, clenched the sphere tightly, and with the grace of a skilled pitcher, hurled it into the air. The ball shot forward, slicing through the space between him and the rabbits, leaving behind a faint trail of light—like a rogue star falling from the sky. The air tore with a sharp whistle as it sped toward its target.
Then, once it reached the center of the fleeing herd, the explosion erupted—flames burst upward, consuming the grass. Moments ago, the rabbits had been full, living beings scrambling for an escape. Now, they were scattered fragments in the air. Their bodies torn apart by the fiery blast, their blood sprayed like rain, drawing final lines across the burning grass.
Within seconds, the dry grasses around them were devoured by flames, spreading quickly, as if they had been waiting for a single spark to ignite into a sea of fire.
The air filled with the stench of smoke and burning flesh. The continuous crackling of the fire sounded like a funeral dirge, playing to the rhythm of death. The blaze didn't last long. It gradually died down, while Ace observed the destruction he had wrought. His face was calm—no sign of remorse or pity. He understood that what had occurred was necessary—a step he had to take.
Deep inside, he was surprised by the intensity of the blast—not for the first time, but for the second. Though it wasn't as powerful as the explosion in front of the giant ogre, it was still at least twice as strong as what the bomb should've produced. He paused, reflecting on the cause. He surmised that the composition of the air here had amplified the chemical reaction, with the purity of the atmosphere and surrounding gases intensifying the explosion.
After several minutes, the flames had receded, leaving behind glowing ashes and thin spirals of smoke rising into the sky. The air was saturated with the foul scent of death—a suffocating blend of spilled blood and black smoke.
Ace walked slowly through the devastation, each step a struggle against his wounded body. Pain surged with every breath. His scattered injuries throbbed as he examined the ground, littered with fragments of the little rabbits. Then, something on the edge of his vision stirred—a faint movement barely visible under the dim light. He paused, sharp eyes narrowing in.
It was a lone rabbit, limping slowly, barely able to stand. Its movements were sluggish, its body covered in burns and wounds—clearly a survivor by sheer luck.
It seemed to be trying to flee, but its stumbling steps looked more like death's final tremble. Ace hesitated. His eyes locked on the distant rabbit. A part of him wanted to let it go, to give it a chance. But his mind, shaped by harsh experience, knew the truth—this creature, no matter how weak it appeared now, could be a future threat. True safety meant eliminating every potential danger, no matter how small.
Still, he knew that principle wouldn't apply if it were a human. Letting out a heavy, bitter sigh, he reached to his side and drew his small weapon. He raised it steadily, aiming at the rabbit, which had stopped in place, as if sensing its end.
Calmly, Ace squeezed the trigger. The bullet cut through the air and struck its mark with precision. The rabbit dropped instantly—its small body yielding to death.
Silence returned, thick and absolute, as if expressing the sorrow buried deep within the young man's heart for all the destruction he had caused. Then, he began collecting the rabbits' ears—those that still had a recognizable shape—placing them in a paper bag he had requested from the old man.
He ended up gathering eleven pairs, not counting the two black ears he had taken from the black rabbit's head—larger and coarser than the rest.