The Hero's Puppet Master

12th Day of Spring, Year 754

The Village of Sunspire

The sun was bright in the quiet village, warming the fields where the farmers toiled hard, with sweat glistening on their faces. Children were playing merrily, their laughter echoing in the peaceful streets.

But inside the orphanage, Eliana sat at a wooden table, her fingers tapping nervously. The afternoon sunlight came through the windows, but Ronan and Aurelia still hadn't come back from the woods, where they'd gone to gather firewood.

Suddenly, fast footsteps sounded outside, followed by loud knocking. Eliana jumped up and opened the door to see a pale, breathless young man standing there.

"Eliana." he panted, his voice trembling. He pointed toward the village square. "Ronan and Aurelia. they're back, but."

Eliana didn't wait for him to finish. Her heart racing, she ran toward the square, fear growing with every step.

The Village Square

Crowding in the village square stood fear-whispering individuals with heavy air since everybody staring toward the center was gazing at the wonder being dealt with. Eliana worked her way through a swamped crowd with thudding pulses of her heart and eventually lay eyes on him there was Ronan.

He stepped into the square, steady strides notwithstanding his blood-stained clothes and battered face. In his hand was a fat rope.

Dragging behind him was an enormous, limp body drenched in blood and nearly lifeless.

A murmur spread throughout the crowd like ripples across the surface of water.

Aurelia trailed behind him, her face deathly pale and grim, her body is covered with blood stains.

Ronan stopped at the center of the square. He said nothing and pulled on the rope, hauling Valture's body upright. The face of the bandit leader was swollen and bloody, but his size and shape were unmistakable.

With practiced hands, he tied the rope to a wooden beam and hoisted Valture upside down for everyone to see. Blood dripped onto the cobblestones, forming a pool at Ronan's feet.

The crowd fell silent.

Ronan turned to look at them, his sharp gaze moving across the frightened faces. The air grew still, and everybody felt the anger burning inside him.

"This is Valture," he said, his voice hard and firm. "The butcher of knights. The man who made you live in fear."

He paused, letting the words sink in. "Not anymore."

"No. it can't be—"

"Vulture?"

"The butcher of knights? He's here?"

Some of the villagers recoiled at the mention of the name. Mothers hugged their children, gazing nervously around, as if bandits would magically materialize out of nowhere.

Eliana stood there, her legs weak beneath her as she gazed at Ronan and Aurelia. They looked so different from the children she knew, bruised and bloodied. Tears welled up in her eyes, her chest tight with worry and relief.

His gaze softened when he saw her. His mind flashed with memories—fourteen times, he had watched her die. Each time, it had torn him apart.

Not this time.

Now, he had stopped it.

For the first time.

He walked toward Eliana, the crowd parting silently as he passed. When he reached her, he rested his head on her shoulder. His blood-streaked face stained her clothes.

"You're safe," he whispered, his voice shaking. His small body leaned heavily against her as she knelt down. Tears streamed down his face. "You won't get hurt because of them. I stopped them. I'm so glad I stopped them."

In that moment, though his mind carried the weight of over a hundred years, Ronan was just a boy—tired, broken, and relieved.

The forest was silent as the knights reached the clearing, their armor shining faintly in the moonlight. Ronan's message had led them to the bandits' camp.

The first knight to enter froze, his sword falling from his hands to the ground with a loud clatter. His face turned pale, and he couldn't breathe.

Another knight, older but just as shaken, clutched his helmet tightly and mumbled a prayer. A younger knight went down on his knees and vomited as he scanned their surroundings.

In front of them was a nightmare scene straight out of one of those nightmares.

Some were burned so extensively that they could not be told who they were. Some were impaled on spiked wooden stakes, their bodies twisted in impossible ways. Other bodies were torn apart with pieces scattered all over the clearing.

The blood and charred flesh can smell air, filling the knights' nostrils.

"Who. could have done this?" the knight whispered, his voice trembling.

"This isn't… human," another said, his words barely audible.

The captain's face was grim. He shook his head. "Not monsters," he said quietly, gripping his sword. "Prodigies."

When the knights returned to Sunspire village, the villagers gathered in the square. Fear and curiosity filled the air. The captain stepped down from his horse, his face still pale, and addressed the crowd.

"Ronan and Aurelia," he said, his voice steady, "didn't just defeat Valture. They destroyed his entire band."

Gasps spread through the crowd.

"What we saw in that forest." the captain continued, his voice growing stronger, "was not the work of ordinary children. It was the work of warriors. Legends in the making."

The villagers stood silent, stunned by his words.

As the crowd's attention centered on Ronan, he stood tall, his bandaged face curving into a sharp, defiant psychotic smile, and beside him, Aurelia's fear seemed to melt into a cold, deadly smirk, as if challenging the world to mess with them again.

That day, Sunspire was no longer the quiet, forgotten village. It became the birthplace of legends. Ronan and Aurelia, though still children, had proved their strength and courage.

Their victory wasn't just a moment of triumph; it was a message.

Two prodigies had risen.