Flares of Pain

The path to Kabunlawan stretched endlessly before them, silent and uneventful at first.

The youngsters clung to their beast mounts, the rhythmic gallop of the creatures offering a false sense of calm. Each thud of clawed feet against the dirt seemed to echo the unease in their hearts.

But then, a deafening bang shattered the stillness—a burst of magic crackling like thunder through the air. The youngsters froze, their mounts rearing slightly in response to the sound. Even the riders knew what it meant.

"It's him," the leader of the E-rank guards muttered grimly. "The old man's power."

The realization hit like an icy wind. The old man, who had stayed behind to protect their village, had unleashed his magic—a sign of an escalating battle and certain danger. Without hesitation, the group urged their mounts forward and the beasts snarled as they picked up speed.

"We have to get to Kabunlawan!" the carriage driver barked, his voice tense.

In the distance, ominous shapes emerged—hound-like monsters with glowing eyes and salivating maws, their inhuman forms bounding toward them in pursuit.

"Hounds!" one youngster cried, their voices trembling with fear.

As the E-rank guards steadied themselves on their mounts, they released their powers. They closed their eyes, focusing inward, and visualized the threads of their power weaving together. Each thread pulsed with energy, intertwining to form the shape of a fireball. With a sharp exhale, they released the concentrated energy, sending the fireballs hurtling toward the oncoming hounds. The flames illuminated the night, roaring as they collided with the ground, creating a barrier of fire that slowed the advancing pack.

"Keep moving!" a guard shouted, releasing another volley of flames.

The beast mounts responded to their riders' commands, their powerful legs propelling them faster and faster. But the hounds were relentless, their snarls growing louder with each passing moment.

"Hold them back!" another guard yelled, throwing more fireballs. The hounds briefly scattered, their formation disrupted, but they quickly regrouped, closing the distance again.

Ahead, the walls of Kabunlawan finally came into view, its gates illuminated faintly by torches. Relief flooded through the group as they pushed their mounts harder, the beasts breathing heavily but charging with everything they had.

The guards fired a final barrage of magic, and, for a moment, the hounds hesitated. It was enough. The group reached the gates just as the hounds began closing in again. The heavy gates creaked open just wide enough to let them through before slamming shut with a deafening clang.

Inside the safety of the walls, the youngsters dismounted, their legs shaky and their faces pale. Without hesitation, they ran to the guards stationed at the gate, falling to their knees in desperation.

"Please! I beg you to help our village!" one of them begged, tears streaming down their face. "It's being destroyed!"

The Kabunlawan guards exchanged uneasy glances but remained silent. Moments later, a stern-looking official stepped forward, his expression devoid of sympathy.

"Help cannot be sent," he said firmly. "Your village is overrun with monsters. If we send men, we risk bringing the beasts here. Kabunlawan must be protected above all else."

"But our families!" another youngster cried out. "There are still people back there! You can't just—"

"I'm sorry," the official interrupted. "Your village is lost."

The youngsters stared at him, their faces stricken with disbelief and grief.

"You don't understand!" one of them shouted, their voice cracking. "We can't just abandon them!"

"The borders are sealed," the official said coldly. "You'll stay here now. That's all we can offer."

The weight of his words settled over them like a suffocating shroud. Despair clawed at their hearts, but amidst the sorrow, a spark of defiance flickered.

A few of the older youngsters from Saliksik, standing slightly apart from the group, exchanged glances. Unlike the younger children, they refused to be silenced. These were teenagers, hardened by their upbringing in a harsh world and emboldened by desperation.

"You can't just leave them to die!" one of them said, stepping forward boldly. "You have soldiers, walls, and magic! What's the point of all this if you can't protect others?"

The officials remained firm, shaking their heads. "The risk is too great. Kabunlawan must be protected."

Before the youngsters could press further, the sound of hoofbeats echoed through the air. A cavalcade of warriors on beast mounts approached the gates of Kabunlawan. Their armor gleamed under the torchlight, and their presence radiated authority and strength.

The guards at the gates straightened and saluted as the leader of the group—a tall figure clad in reinforced leather armor adorned with silver sigils—dismounted.

"Captain Sidlak Luna, we thank you for the visit," one guard said, his voice filled with respect. Even the grumpy village chief, who had been observing the commotion from afar, adjusted his demeanor and stepped forward to greet the group with a forced smile.

The older youngsters from Saliksik saw their chance. They burst from the crowd and ran toward the cavalry, their voices rising in desperate pleas.

"Please help our village!" one shouted, tears streaming down his face.

Another added, "Our families are still there! Please, let us come with you!"

The village chief's face darkened, and he moved to reprimand the children. "Enough of this nonsense! Step back and—"

"Let the kids be," Captain Luna interrupted, raising a gloved hand. His voice was calm but commanding, and his presence silenced the chief instantly.

The chief clicked his tongue in annoyance but turned and walked back toward his abode, muttering under his breath.

Captain Luna studied the youngsters carefully. Despite their tear-streaked faces and trembling voices, he saw the fire of determination in their eyes.

"How many of you are asking to come?" he finally asked.

"Five of us," the teen replied, standing straighter despite the weight of fear and grief.

The captain nodded. "Then you'll ride with us. But know this—this isn't a journey of safety. It's a battlefield. If you come, you follow orders, no matter what."

The teens nodded fervently, their resolve unwavering.

The younger children, who had been watching quietly, began to sob. One of them clung to his older brother's arm; it was Javier. "Don't go! What if you don't come back?"

The older brother knelt and hugged the child tightly. "I'll come back. I promise. Stay here, stay safe, and keep praying for us and everyone in the village."

Moments later, the five older youngsters mounted borrowed beasts and joined the cavalry. As the gates of Kabunlawan opened once more, the 13 C-rank soldiers and their B-rank captain rode out into the darkness, their formation unyielding.

The six younger children were left behind, standing by the gates with tear-streaked faces. As the sound of hoofbeats faded into the distance, they knelt together in prayer, clinging to hope that their older siblings and parents would return safely.

As the cavalry surged forward, their mounts slicing through the night like ethereal streaks of lightning, the surrounding air began to shimmer with anticipation. Before their magic manifested, the soldiers channeled their threads of power, each weaving a tapestry of luminescent energy that painted the battlefield in a kaleidoscope of hues. These radiant threads intertwined, forming intricate patterns that corresponded to the specific magic they intended to unleash.

The younger villagers granted the rare opportunity to accompany the seasoned warriors, watched in awe as this spectacle unfolded. The soldiers' threads coalesced into blazing fireballs, razor-sharp wind blades, and shimmering barriers of light, each a manifestation, a testament to their skill and control. As these magical constructs hurtled toward the E-rank hounds in pursuit, the battlefield was illuminated in a dazzling display of colors and light.

Explosions of fiery orange, slashing arcs of translucent blue, and protective domes of radiant gold decimated the oncoming horde, scattering their remains into the encroaching darkness.

Despite their amazement, tears streamed down the teenagers' faces as the harsh reality settled upon them. The vivid contrast between the soldiers' formidable prowess and the meager defenses their families had relied upon became painfully clear. Images of their elders—frail yet defiant—battling these relentless monsters with limited strength and resources weighed heavily on their hearts, casting a somber shadow over the night's resplendent display.

As the cavalcade approached the ruined gates of Barangay Saliksik, the scene before them was devastating. The village, once lively and full of laughter, was now shrouded in chaos. Fires raged from scattered homes, painting the night sky orange. Desperate cries and the monstrous growls of hounds echoed through the air.

At the center of the town stood the Elder Chief, Elder Lolong. The once-proud leader was battered and bloody, his garments soaked with crimson and his staff barely able to support him. Surrounding him were snarling hounds, circling for the final blow. Despite his E-rank fighter-mage status, Lolong's age and injuries made him vulnerable. He still fought valiantly, an ember of defiance burning within him.

The teenagers could not hold back their grief. Their knees buckled, and tears streamed down their faces, the weight of the devastation overwhelming them. Among them, the elder's grandson, his face contorted with anguish, was the first to break. The sight of his grandfather—his protector, his mentor—brought him to his knees. His body trembled with a mix of sorrow and rage, and before anyone could stop him, he ran forward, driven by the need to be near the man who had given everything to protect them.

The others followed without hesitation, the bond of family and duty propelling them forward despite the danger. Their hearts beat with desperation, and they reached the front lines, desperate to do something, anything, to save the elder.

The cavalry responded instantly. Captain Luna's voice rang out, sharp and commanding. His soldiers moved with precision, their weapons flashing as they hacked through the closest monsters. The creatures fell, but the tide was relentless.

The cavalry responded instantly, their movements a testament to discipline forged in countless battles. Captain Luna's voice cut through the chaos like a blade, sharp and commanding, "Hold the line! Protect the survivors at all costs!"

His soldiers surged forward with unwavering precision, a wall of determination against the encroaching horrors. Swords and spears gleamed in the moonlight, striking with brutal efficiency as they cut down the nearest monsters. Each swing and thrust was a calculated blow, honed to perfection.

Yet, for every creature that fell, another emerged from the shadows, their monstrous forms surging forward with an unrelenting hunger. The soldiers gritted their teeth, the tide pressing harder, threatening to overwhelm even their steadfast formation. The clash of steel against twisted flesh reverberated through the battlefield, a symphony of desperation and resolve.

As the battle raged on, the cavalry healers approached Elder Lolong. They mended his physical wounds with glowing magic, but the mental scars remained untouched. The old man shoved them away with trembling hands, his body shaking—not from injury, but from grief and anger.

"Leave me!" Lolong shouted, his voice breaking. "This is no place for children or cowards. Go back to where you came from!"

The teenagers recoiled, frightened by his outburst, and sought refuge behind the lone cavalry soldier. One youngster, unable to hold back any longer, cried out, "Please don't, Elder Lolong! Please don't leave us!"

The elder, his face twisted in pain, muttered to himself, his voice barely audible over the chaos. "If only I had been stronger... If only I hadn't been born so weak... If only I had worked harder. None of this would've happened. None of this..." His muttering grew louder, more venomous, as he began to direct his anger outward.

"If only no fools had abandoned us, leaving us to fend for ourselves! If only those brats hadn't been born!" He turned his gaze to the teenagers, his eyes filled with bitterness. "We spent everything—our time, our funds—on raising you! On giving you a better life! And what did we get? This! If it weren't for you, Saliksik could've had walls, defenses, a chance to survive!"

The words cut through the teenagers like a blade. His grandson collapsed to the ground, sobbing uncontrollably, their legs too weak to support them. The others, though trembling, tried to comfort their friend.

A deep, foreboding silence followed. The cavalry soldier standing guard sensed the shift in the air. His hand went to the blue torch strapped to his belt, lighting it with haste. The torch ignited, releasing a radiant, protective barrier that encircled the children in a 4-meter radius.

"Don't step outside this barrier, no matter what happens," the soldier instructed firmly.

The youngsters, their faces streaked with tears, nodded in unison, clutching one another for comfort.

But it was too late.

As Elder Lolong's despair reached its peak, a faint shimmer of his threads began to darken, shifting from their usual luminescence to a foreboding shade.

These once-bright strands of energy, now tainted by his overwhelming anguish, started to writhe and twist, as if alive with malevolent intent. Slowly, dark threads emerged from the surrounding shadows, snaking through the air with an eerie purpose, converging upon him like predatory serpents.

The negative energy coalesced, feeding off his deepest regrets and unbridled fury. With each passing moment, more of these sinister threads latched onto his form, weaving a cocoon around him. The air grew thick with an oppressive aura, and a chilling silence fell over the battlefield, broken only by the sound of the dark threads tightening their grip.

Suddenly, Elder Lolong let out a blood-curdling scream, a sound that pierced the very soul. His body convulsed violently as the dark threads burrowed into his flesh, initiating a horrifying transformation.

His frame swelled grotesquely, skin stretching and tearing as muscles bulged unnaturally. Bones cracked and reformed, creating new, malformed limbs that jutted out at unnatural angles. Extra arms sprouted from his sides, their clawed hands grasping at the earth as multiple eyes, gleaming with a malevolent intelligence, opened across his distorted body.

The teenagers watched in horror, their faces pale and his despair consumed, eyes wide with terror.

The transformation was both shocking and eerie, a nightmarish spectacle that would be forever etched into their memories. The grotesque monstrosity that now stood before them was a chilling testament to the destructive power of unchecked anguish and fury.

Their hearts ached, witnessing the man who had been their pillar of strength now twisted by anguish. His grandson, tears streaming down his face, reached out a trembling hand, whispering, "Lolo, please... it's us." But the creature that was once their beloved elder no longer recognized them, its many eyes reflecting only torment and rage. The bond they shared shattered that moment, leaving the youngsters engulfed in a profound sense of loss and helplessness.

His once-human form was gone, replaced by a monstrous abomination. The transformation finished with a deafening roar as he reached the rank of a D+ monster—a force beyond what the lone cavalry guard could handle.

The monster that was once Elder Lolong glared at the barrier protecting the youngsters, its many eyes gleaming with malice. In an instant, it leaped toward the cavalry soldier.

The soldier raised his shield, bracing for impact, but the force of the creature's attack sent him crashing against the barrier, shattering it like fragile glass.

The protective light faded. The children screamed.

At that moment, the world seemed to stop.

All they saw was a massive claw swinging down toward them everything felt quiet and suddenly went blank.