Everyone stood in awkward silence, not daring to say a word. Getting so many to safety had been an incredible feat. They all understood full well that the young man could only have done it thanks to his kindness, wit, and meticulous planning.
“Man, compared to that boy...”
“Yeah, we don’t stand a chance.”
It ill befitted grown men to hatch a reckless plan based on petty squabbles and bravado. They had to follow that young man’s example!
But of course, this was all a misunderstanding on their part.
Saving the children had been incidental. All of Crow’s hard work had been, without question, directed simply at saving his own hide. Though he might have appeared mature, he was just terrible at communication and didn’t speak much. Frankly, all he had was a certain air and look about him, nothing more! On the inside, he was just a lazy, good-for-nothing guy.
Unaware of this, the villagers reconciled with one another over the tale of Crow’s alleged exploits.
“S-Sorry, chief. I got carried away and called you a coward. That was rude of me.”
“It’s fine,” the chief replied. “I was too stubborn, myself.”
The rage melted away from the atmosphere. Everyone regained their composure and turned to constructive discussion on how to handle the issue.
“Why don’t we ask Crow’s opinion? He seemed pretty down when I saw him, but...”
“Mm, he’s a kind young man,” the chief said. “I’m sure his heart aches over his inability to save all of the villagers. Still, I’m certain he’ll have good ideas.”
The discussion had hardly begun anew when a desperate cry rang out.
“G-Goblins! An entire group of them!” a villager yelled from outside the assembly hall.
Cries of “What?!” and “It can’t be!” arose. The men immediately leaped to their feet and ran out of the hall to investigate. Barreling down a nearby hill was a group of green humanoids—goblins. Once monkeys but now corrupted by aether, these aetherborn stood at barely a child’s height. Their brutality, however, was unfathomable.
“No... This is exactly what we feared!”
If only they had acted sooner! Bitter regret gripped their hearts, but now was not the time to be paralyzed with fear.
“Everyone, run!” the village chief shouted. “Save the children!”
The adults were determined to see to it that the children had a future, just like young Crow had. And so, they took off running—
“Whoa, whoa, whoa! And where do you losers think you’re going?!”
A powerful strike! As a voice rang out from above, a man was cleft in twain. He fell with a gurgle, a mist of fresh blood spraying those nearby!
“What?!” It took the village chief and the others a moment to realize what had happened. Bathed in the blood of their dead neighbor, who they’d just been speaking to, they quickly fell into a panic and screamed.
“Gah ha ha! Grown men, shaking in their boots like little children! You’re all pathetic!”
A skeletal man stood before the villagers, mocking them with a crude sneer. His cheeks were gaunt, his eye sockets hollow, and his body as thin as a dead branch. Despite this, in his hand was a large blade, longer than the man was tall.
“You’re... Wait, that sword in your hand... Don’t tell me...!”
The blade was a wondrous sight to behold, emanating a faint crimson light. It could be no ordinary weapon.
“Is that...an aethereal arm?!”
“You bet it is!” said the gaunt man. “This is my partner, Dáinsleif, the Crimson Thirst!”
At the man’s words, they beheld a new and bizarre sight: fresh blood swirled up from the remains of the deceased villager. As if moving of its own will, the blood was sucked into Dáinsleif’s blade.
“Ahhh! Here it comes, here it comes, here it comes! Ohhh, that feels good! That feels sooo good!” the skeletal man shouted in ecstasy.
A sound akin to the beating of a heart emanated from the sword. At the same time, the man’s muscles swelled, his entire body taking on a grotesque, gigantic shape. Only his face remained the same.
“What the...?!”
“Geh heh heh! That’s my partner’s power! The story goes that Dáinsleif has a thirst for blood and mayhem! It consumes the blood of those it cuts down to give me temporary strength!” the man explained, and laughed maniacally as he leaned backwards.
His eyes gleaming brightly, the man turned his cruel gaze to the villagers, whom he saw as little more than prey.
“Now, then: time for you losers to become dinner!” he said, letting out a vile cry as he raised his bloodstained blade.
“No!” the villagers cried out at the prospect of having their lives consumed.
But just then, a voice rang out.
“Stop this! Now!”
Shocked, the skeletal man lunged to the side and lifted his sword to shield his chest, just in time to catch a powerful thrust to its center. The giant flew back an astonishing distance—over ten meters—and groaned. “Wh-Who the hell are you?!”
“What?!” the village elder exclaimed. “Wait, you’re...” He couldn’t believe his eyes. “Crow?!”
Standing before their wide gazes was young Crow, clutching a night-black blade in his hand. He shot a brief, cool, dashing glance at the villagers before turning in fury upon the skeletal man.
“Evildoer! For the sin of robbing me of my home, I hereby deliver judgment!”
Crow’s voice reverberated as he announced the man’s sentence, his majestic visage inspiring confidence in the hearts of the villagers. He was the one, the man, the hero to save them all!
(Spoiler: No. No, he wasn’t.)