The Hero's Puppet Master

A towering B-ranked bandit glared down at Ronan, his confidence shaking, though his ego is intact.

"You're tough, boy," the bandit grunted, lifting his heavy hammer off the ground. "I'll give you credit for that. But your life ends here."

Ronan threw his head back, his face uninterested and serene. He let out a loud sigh, tapping his axe against the ground. "Blah, blah, blah," he said.

"Let's skip the speech and get to the part where I kill you."

The bandit's face twisted with anger, and he roared, charging forward. His hammer swung in a wide arc, strong enough to split a tree in half.

Ronan did not move. He raised his hand and arrested the hammer at midswing. Impact filled the air, but he did not stir. Bandit eyes grew wide with incredulity as Ronan sneered around the grip of the hammer.

"This?" Ronan pressed down upon the hammer in his palm. Metal crumpled like paper beneath his fingers. "This joke's a weapon?"

The bandit horde was transfixed, gazing in dismay. The B-rated bandit backed away, his swagger gone when he struggled for another weapon.

Ronan's grin went tight and wicked. "Flash Step,"

He vanished.

The bandit blinked and Ronan appeared in front of him.

"Surprise."

Ronan's wind-coated axe sliced clean through the bandit's neck in one swift motion. Blood sprayed in a wide arc, and the body fell to the ground with a heavy thud. He kicked the severed head with his boot, his tone mocking. "He sure was talkative for someone without a head."

The rest of the bandits froze in place, their courage gone. For a moment, no one moved.

Then, panic set in. "He's just one kid!" someone yelled, voice shaking. "Overwhelm him!"

The camp erupted into chaos as the bandits charged with raised weapons and spells crackling in their hands.

The large tent at the center of the camp suddenly burst open, and a towering figure stepped out. Valture. His bloodstained armor glinted dully under the moonlight, and his scarred face twisted into a snarl.

"What in the hell is happening here?" His voice echoed, drowning out every voice. His storm-like powerful aura was so heavy that he could even make his men look smaller than himself.

One of his trembling bandits stood before him. "Boss, it's. it's a kid. He's already killed fifteen of us! He's—"

"A kid?" Valture's voice was as cold as ice. His gaze knocked the bandit off his feet. "You are telling me a brat is raping my camp?"

Valture strode into the clearing, his eyes narrowing. Ronan stood in the middle of a field of bodies, his axes dripping with blood. His calm grin remained, unaffected by the destruction around him.

A desperate bandit lunged at Ronan, yelling. He sidestepped with ease, his glowing axe slicing cleanly. The man fell in two, his scream silenced.

Ronan sneered at the rest of the bandits. "This is it? These are Valture's men? Weak."

Valture's face darkened, and his aura grew heavier, crackling with power. "You arrogant little brat," he growled.

Without late, Valture activated Flash Step.

In the blink of an eye, he closed the gap between them. Before Ronan could react, Valture's massive hand clamped around his throat like a steel trap.

"Let's see how cocky you are now," Valture sneered, dragging Ronan at brutal speed.

He slammed him into a tree with a loud crack. The trunk split from the force, leaning precariously as splinters rained down.

"You think you can waltz into my camp? Kill my men like they're nothing?" Valture's voice was filled with rage. "I'll show you what real power feels like."

He squeezed Ronan's neck tighter, lifting him off the ground. Ronan's axes fell as he clawed at Valture's arm, gasping for air.

Valture's fist slammed into Ronan's face with crushing force. Blood sprayed as his head snapped to the side. "You're nothing!" Valture roared, landing another punch. "Thought you were unstoppable? Thought you could take me?"

In the bushes, Aurelia crouched, her body shaking. Her tear-streaked face was pale as she clawed at the dirt, helpless.

"Ronan," she whispered, her voice breaking. Her heart twisted at the sight of his beaten form.

"I can't," she stammered, tears flowing. "I can't lose him. Not him."

She sank her hands into the ground, scraping nails on sharp stones. She didn't care.

Her mind was screaming to get up and hide. Her heart wouldn't let her.

Warmth spread through her chest in a slow and comforting pattern.

Aurelia gasped. She clamped her hand on the sun-shaped birthmark she kept hidden beneath her clothes. It glowed with a faint, soft gold pulsing in rhythm with her racing heart.

The heat was getting stronger, and she could feel it penetrate the cold morning like rays breaking through a veil. The strength came with the light into her body as it pushed fear aside.

"I won't let him die," she said steadily. "I won't let Ronan die!"

A harder resolve settled on her tear-stained face. She clenched her fists while the mark flared to full intensity, wrapping her in its warm, golden light.