Tak* Tak* Tak*
The sharp, rhythmic clang of steel against steel echoed across the dusty training grounds. Sweat beaded on my forehead, trickling down my temple to sting my eyes. My muscles screamed, but I ignored them, focusing solely on the blur of movement before me. Three figures, swords raised, pressed their attack.
"Okay, stop now, this much is enough for today."
Sensei's voice cut through the din, and we lowered our weapons, chests heaving. Steam rose from our bodies in the cool morning air.
"If you hadn't stopped us, we would have defeated her!" one of the boys, Roric, panted, wiping a sleeve across his brow.
"Yeah!" nodded Tavin, his younger brother, equally winded.
I couldn't help but smirk, a small, private victory flowering in my chest. "Liar."
Their heads snapped towards me, eyes blazing with familiar frustration. Three of them, working together, coordinating their attacks, and still unable to land a single decisive blow.
"You three are sparring with her at the same time and are still complaining?" Sensei's tone held a hint of amusement, a quiet rebuke that only fueled their resentment towards me.
They glared, their faces contorted with a mixture of exhaustion and impotent rage. But I wasn't scared. Not of their anger, not of their jealousy. It wasn't directed at me, not truly. It was aimed at their own inability, at the gulf between their effort and my natural talent. And honestly? I enjoyed it. It was proof. Proof that I was different, destined for more than this small village could offer.
"Alna, where did you learn these swordfighting skills?" Sensei asked, his expression one of genuine curiosity.
I smiled, straightening my stance. "My father teaches me swordfighting everyday. Apart from this, I also keep training myself."
It was the simple truth. Every morning, before the sun crested the horizon, Father and I would meet behind our small house. His shield, sturdy and worn, would meet my practice sword. He wasn't a warrior, just a simple villager, but he understood movement, leverage, and the importance of a solid defense. And I? I was a sponge, absorbing every lesson, every piece of advice.
"Very good, Alna." Sensei nodded approvingly.
"Hehehe." I couldn't help the quiet giggle that escaped me. His praise, Father's lessons, my own dedication – it was all building towards something.
Our village was tiny, nestled beside a winding river, its population barely fifty souls. Everyone knew everyone. The elders, their faces etched with the wisdom of years, would pat my head, offering kind words and sometimes, a sweet treat. They saw the potential in me, the unusual spark.
The children, on the other hand… they saw the favoritism, the ease with which I surpassed them despite their own efforts. They formed cliques, whispered behind cupped hands, and deliberately excluded me from their games. If I had wanted, I could have forced my way in, flashed a smile, pretended to be like them. But it would have been a waste of time. Their small world, their petty rivalries – it held no interest for me. I had a bigger goal.
Whenever someone, an elder with a kind smile or a curious traveler passing through, asked me what I wanted to do after growing up, my answer was always the same, delivered with unwavering certainty.
"I want to marry Shield Hero and help him in his journey."
A ripple of polite, sometimes pitying, smiles would follow. They'd shake their heads, chuckling softly. "Oh, Alna, that's impossible," they'd say. "There are several thousands of people waiting for Shield Hero so that they could join his party. He's a great Hero, a legend!" They'd try to explain, gently, patiently, that my dream was a childish fantasy. But I never heard them. Their disbelief was just noise.
Only my mother and father, bless their kind hearts, truly trusted in me. Mother, with her gentle hands and unwavering faith, would simply smile and say, "If that is what our Alna wishes, then she will surely find a way." Father, stoic and steady as his shield, would simply nod, his eyes conveying a quiet, powerful belief. Their trust was a rock, a foundation upon which I built my unwavering conviction.
I was cute, with eyes that sparkled with ambition and a smile that could charm the birds from the trees. I was talented, my body moving with a grace that belied my years. I was smart, devouring books whenever I could find them, soaking up knowledge like a parched plant. And I was stronger, not just physically, but in spirit, my resolve harder than any steel. I simply couldn't see the Shield Hero not choosing me. I believed, with every fiber of my being, that I was living the best life, a life leading inevitably to my destiny.
Until one day, that life shattered.
A chill wind carried whispers through the village, whispers of something unnatural, something terrifying. We heard that a purple kasaka had infiltrated the village. Fear, cold and sharp, gripped the air. These monsters were rare, powerful, and utterly lethal. We grabbed whatever weapons we had – farming tools, rusty swords, Father's shield – and rushed towards the source of the commotion.
When we reached the edge of the forest clearing, the scene was chaos. Many people were trying to fend it off, their faces pale with terror, their attacks clumsy and ineffective. The kasaka was a monstrous serpent, its scales a sickening shade of purple, its length a terrifying ten to twelve meters. It moved with unnerving speed, weaving and striking like lightning. But its most terrifying weapon was its breath – streams of searing fire and corrosive acid spat from its gaping maw.
Some people were injured, their skin bubbling and smoking where the acid had touched them. Screams tore through the air. But mercifully, miraculously, no one had died yet.
I had never seen anything like it. This wasn't like hunting boars or fending off stray goblins. This was a force of nature, a creature of pure destruction.
The kasaka's head snapped down, spitting acid towards a man who had stumbled. He barely dodged, rolling away, but mistakenly stepped on the ground where the acid had landed moments before. A chilling shriek tore from his throat as his feet began to melt, his boots fusing to the ground, rendering him unable to move. The kasaka turned, its eyes fixing on him, gathering fire in its throat. But before it could unleash its fiery breath, Father surged forward.
He placed himself between the kasaka and the trapped man, raising his shield, its worn wood glowing faintly with some innate resilience. The firebreath washed over him, a torrent of heat and flame, but the shield held, albeit charring around the edges.
"There's an orb behind the Kasaka's head!" Father roared over the roar of the flames, his voice strained but clear. "Break it! It'll kill the beast!"
The kasaka, enraged by the blocked attack, turned its massive head towards Father. It coiled, preparing to strike.
"Get away from there, stupid father!" I screamed, my voice raw with panic. He could have easily gotten away, rolled to the side, abandoned the trapped man. But he didn't. Because if he moved, the person behind him would become the prey. He chose to stand, a single, unwavering shield against the monster.
The kasaka lunged. In a blur of purple scales and snapping jaws, it struck. But then, another figure moved. Mother. She threw herself between Father and the kasaka, her small frame a fragile barrier. The kasaka's jaws closed, and in a sickening gulp, it swallowed her whole.
A strangled cry tore from Father's lips. His eyes, seconds before filled with grim determination, were now wild with grief and fury. He lost his mind. Shield forgotten, he attacked the kasaka recklessly, slashing and stabbing with a villager's short sword. Somehow, through sheer desperation, he managed to get behind the viper, scrambling towards the glowing orb at the base of its skull.
He reached out, sword raised, ready to strike. But the kasaka, with unnatural speed, turned its head, its massive jaws opening once more. And then, it swallowed him too.
At that moment, standing amidst the chaos and screams, I lost everything. The world tilted, colors blurring into a meaningless mess. Mother. Father. Gone. Swallowed by that monstrous, purple serpent. The pain was a physical blow, stealing my breath, leaving me hollow. Suicide. The thought flickered, cold and inviting. To end it all, to escape this unbearable reality, to follow them into the darkness.
But then… What? The viper was acting strangely. It slowed its movements, its coiled body trembling slightly. The most probable answer clawed its way through my despair – Father. He was hurting it from inside. They were still alive. The kasaka had only swallowed them whole; they weren't crushed, not immediately. There was a chance. A tiny, desperate chance.
Energy surged through me, raw and furious. Grief transmuted into a burning resolve. I saw a nearby sword, half-melted by acid but still holding a semblance of a blade. I snatched it up, its weight familiar in my hand.
The kasaka was facing the opposite direction, still reeling from whatever Father was doing inside its gut. Now was my chance. I ran towards it, my legs pumping, the ground blurring beneath me. Almost reached… just a little more…
Just when I readied the sword, my hand trembling with adrenaline and sorrow, ready to break the gem, the kasaka turned. In an instant. Its head whipped around, eyes fixing on me, a predatory grin stretching its reptilian mouth. A chill ran down my spine, a ghost of fear.
But then, a smile, cold and sharp, crept onto my own face. Sorry, but an experienced loner can't fall for the same trick twice! I had been observing, even through my despair. The kasaka wasn't just a brute; it was cunning.
I didn't hesitate. Instead of attacking the gem, I feinted, then lunged, aiming for its eyes with the acid-scarred sword. The blade met resistance, a sickening crunch, and a shriek of pure agony erupted from the beast. I jumped back just as a torrent of acid erupted from the damaged eye socket, barely dodging the spray. Everyone could see. They could see me, a nine-year-old girl with a broken sword, fighting the kasaka alone. But they didn't bother to help. They just watched, frozen by fear.
It let out a battle cry, a sound that resonated with pain and fury. Its massive body thrashed, crashing against the trees. Seeing it, I knew – it was heavily injured from the inside. Father was succeeding. It fell to the ground, a colossal, writhing mass.
I couldn't bother to find out whether it was acting or not. There was no time. My parents were in there. I ran towards the orb, my lungs burning. I reached it, brought the sword down with all my might, but it didn't break. It was harder than it looked. I kept attacking, blow after blow, the half-melted blade chipping against the glowing surface. Ten, eleven, twelve… it took seventeen consecutive hits to break it.
With a final, desperate strike, the orb shattered, bursting into a shower of purple light. The kasaka's body went rigid, then slumped, lifeless. Several Level up notifications popped up one by one before my eyes, a cascade of glowing text, but I didn't care. Levels meant nothing.
I quickly went to the kasaka's body, searching for a place to cut. Where would they be? Where would be safe? I needed to cut it open, now! But as I raised the sword, ready to pierce the tough hide, hands grabbed me. Many hands. They held me tightly, pulling me away from the dead beast.
"Don't make such a mistake, girl!" an elder's voice was firm, panicked. "This Kasaka's stomach might be filled with acid! If you pierce its stomach, all the acid will come out!"
Rage, pure and incandescent, erupted within me. They were stopping me. They were letting them die. "You are letting two people die just because of a possibility, you motherfu*kers!" I screamed, struggling against their grip, tears of fury streaming down my face. I tried very hard to break free, to reach the kasaka, but I couldn't. They were too strong, too many. If I could have cut its belly, just moments ago, my parents could have been saved.
After that, I went straight to my house. It was empty. Silent. The scent of Mother's cooking still lingered faintly, a cruel reminder of what was lost. It took a while to adapt to the changes. The silence was deafening. The emptiness was a physical ache.
My family. Dead. Gone. Swallowed by a monster while villagers watched.
Now, I had two options. I could either commit suicide at this moment and get out of this hell, escape the pain, join my parents in whatever afterlife awaited. Or, I could keep living and work hard to realize my lifelong dream. The dream of the Shield Hero.
I wasn't a coward. The thought of giving up, of letting the kasaka and the villagers who held me back win, was repugnant. Which is why I decided to live in this world, for my Shield Hero. He was my only hope now, the only star in my darkened sky.
After that, one of my neighbors, a kind old woman named Elara, took me in. She was quiet, her own losses evident in her eyes, but she gave me a roof over my head and a warm meal.
Because my levels had increased a lot after defeating the kasaka, my physical growth was happening very fastly. My body matured at an alarming rate, surpassing girls years older than me. To increase my level even more, to become stronger, to be worthy of the Shield Hero, I used to go to the forest and do hunting every day. The monsters were my training partners, the forest my new home.
I admired Gerard-san very much. He was fifteen years old, one of the older boys in the village, and unlike the others, he didn't treat me differently after the kasaka attack. I considered him my elder brother. He always supported me, offering words of encouragement and sometimes, sharing a piece of dried fruit he'd saved. He motivated me when I was sad, reminding me of my strength, of my dream.
I was just nine years old, but my body was as mature as a twenty-year-old girl. My curves filled out, my height increased, my face sculpted into something... beautiful, or so others said. I liked the strength it gave me, the feeling of capability. But I was also concerned. The way some men looked at me, the whispers that followed me in the market. It felt... unsafe. I started keeping a knife with me, hidden in my boot. A small, sharp reminder that I had to protect myself now. My parents weren't here anymore. I was alone. And I had a destiny to fulfill. I couldn't let anyone, or anything, stop me.
The rhythmic tak of rain against the windowpane had lulled me into a shallow sleep, a fragile state perched between wakefulness and true rest. Sounds blurred into the muffled drumming of the storm outside. It was a quiet night, the kind where the world felt distant and safe within the four walls of the small room my neighbours had given me.
Then, a different sound. The soft creak of a floorboard, a hesitant breath. My senses, sharpened by the constant awareness that had become my shadow since... since the Kasaka... snapped awake. My eyes remained closed, my breathing even, a trick learned from countless hours practicing stillness.
He was close now. I could feel the shift in the air currents, the faint scent of damp cloth and something else... something cloying and unpleasant.
A feather-light touch on my lips.
My body tensed, a coiled spring ready to unleash. But my mind, cold and analytical, held back the immediate physical response. This was Gerard-san. My 'elder brother,' who had offered comfort and a roof over my head. The dissonance was jarring, sickening.
I opened my eyes, just a sliver. The room was dark, but enough moonlight filtered through the clouds to silhouette his form looming over me. He drew back slightly, startled by my seemingly sudden wakefulness.
"Gerard-san," I said, my voice quiet, carefully neutral. "Why are you in my room this late?"
He fumbled for a moment, straightening up, a nervous energy radiating from him. "Ah, Alna. Well, I... I thought we could talk for a while." His voice was strained, too high-pitched to sound natural.
"Oh? What did you want to talk about?" I sat up, pulling the thin blanket tighter around me. The knife I kept hidden beneath my pillow felt cold and reassuring against my fingertips.
He shuffled his feet. "You know... when you were little, after... after the Kasaka... you were all by yourself. We took you in, didn't we?" He paused, a heavy implication hanging in the air. "Now you've grown so much..." His eyes, even in the gloom, felt heavy on me, appraising in a way that made my skin crawl.
The casual possessiveness, the thinly veiled reminder of my perceived 'debt'... It struck a chord of bitter clarity within me. They hadn't taken me in purely out of kindness. It was expected. The last surviving child of a village family, orphaned in tragedy. It was a social obligation, perhaps mixed with a genuine desire to help. But to frame it as a favour that demanded this?
My mind, already reeling from the night of the Kasaka, had processed grief and loss with a chilling pragmatism. I had survived. I had power now, level upon level gained in that desperate fight. I was not dependent on them. Not truly. If they cast me out, I could survive. Better than survive. I could thrive. This small village, these well-meaning but ultimately fragile people, held no real power over me anymore.
"Gerard-san," I said again, my voice even colder this time. "You didn't have to do what you did for me after I got here. Not only this, even if you all had not accepted me, I still had a lot of options, so do not make the mistake of thinking that I am dependent on you." I didn't need them. The thought was a solid, unshakeable foundation in the swirling chaos of my emotions.
His face darkened. The pretense of the caring elder brother vanished, replaced by something ugly and demanding. "Don't talk to me like that, girl! We gave you a home! We fed you!" He lunged forward, his hand reaching for me, rough and grasping.
My body moved on instinct, years of training, compressed into months of accelerated growth, taking over. The knife was in my hand in an instant. The moonlight glinted on the metal. There was no hesitation, no fear. Only the cold, clinical focus born from fighting for my life against a monster.
He cried out as the blade sliced through flesh and bone. The sound was wet, sickening. He stumbled back, clutching at the ruined stumps where his hands had been moments before. Blood, dark against the faint light, splattered onto the wooden floor.
His scream, raw and animalistic, tore through the quiet night. It wasn't just pain; it was shock, disbelief that this child, this girl he thought he owned, had done this.
The noise carried. Doors burst open in the small house. Lights flickered on, casting harsh, হলুদ glows into the hallway and my room. Faces, contorted with fear and horror, appeared in the doorway. My neighbours, the people who had taken me in.
Gerard-san was screaming, pointing at me with his bloody arms. Accusations tumbled out, incoherent through his sobs of pain.
No one asked me what had happened.
They saw the blood, the knife in my hand, Gerard-san's horrific injuries, and their minds leaped to the only conclusion they could grasp. The quiet, traumatized orphan they had taken in had become something monstrous.
They didn't come near me. They didn't threaten. They didn't need to. Their faces, pale and terrified, spoke volumes. Their leader, Gerard-san's father, stepped forward, his voice trembling but firm.
"Get out," he whispered, pointing a shaking finger towards the door. "Get out now and never come back."
I stood there, the knife still in my hand, the blood cooling on my skin. I looked at their faces – fear, disgust, utter rejection. There was no understanding, no attempt to hear my side. But then, why would there be? I had just brutally mutilated one of their own.
A strange sense of detachment washed over me. It hurt, yes, the raw sting of being cast out by the only people who had shown me even a semblance of care since my parents died. But beneath the hurt was a cold, hard core of reality. I was stronger than them now. Much stronger. They couldn't have held me if I hadn't wanted to be held. They couldn't force me to stay if I chose to leave. Throwing me out was their only option, their only defense against something they couldn't comprehend or control.
I lowered the knife. It clattered softly onto the floor. I didn't need it anymore. Not against them.
Without a word, I turned and walked past them, through the shocked faces in the doorway, out of the house, and into the still-raining night. The storm felt less threatening than the silent, judging eyes I had left behind. I was alone again, but this time, I knew I could handle it. I had my strength, my skills, and a dream that burned brighter than any rejection. The path to the Shield Hero was still open, and I would walk it, no matter what I had to do, or who I had to leave behind.