Chapter 8: The Tragedy

The Demand

The village square was a graveyard of silence.

Even in the dead of winter, when frost clung to the air and breath turned to fog, the villagers had whispered, laughed, lived. But now, as the armored riders reined their horses to a halt, the world seemed to hold its breath.

A man dismounted first—tall, clean-shaven, his cloak marked with the serpent-and-sword insignia of House Veyra. His silver pin gleamed in the fading sunlight, a cruel reminder of the power he wielded.

"We seek the gold-eyed boy," he announced, his voice cutting through the stillness like a blade. "Hand him over, and there will be no trouble."

Alex stood frozen, his mother's grip like a vice around his wrist. Metha's face was pale, her lips pressed into a thin line. Beside them, Sir Krow stepped forward, his battered armor catching the light.

"By whose order?" Krow asked, his voice calm but edged with steel.

The nobleman smirked. "Lord Veyra himself. Your claim over him is over, knight. This is noble business."

Krow tilted his head, his scarred face unreadable. "Strange. Last I checked, I still held rank. And under the King's Decree of 209, a knight's ward cannot be taken without formal challenge." He paused, his gaze sharpening. "Do you intend to duel me for him?"

The nobleman's smirk faltered. Behind him, his men shifted uneasily, their hands tightening on their weapons. The weight of Krow's reputation—his years of service, his unbroken record in combat—settled over them like a storm cloud.

"We have our orders," the nobleman said, forcing confidence into his voice. "And you are a disgrace to your own title. No one here will protect you."

Krow chuckled, low and dangerous. "Perhaps. But I'd wager the village prefers an old knight over a noble's dogs."

Murmurs rippled through the gathered villagers. Some looked away, their fear palpable, but others straightened, their faces hardening. Gerro stepped forward, his broad frame a shield between Alex and the riders.

"No one here owes House Veyra anything," Gerro said, his voice steady. "You want the boy? You'll have to go through us."

The nobleman's expression darkened. For a moment, it seemed he might give the order, but then his lips curled into a sneer.

"So be it," he said. "If soldiers cannot claim him, others will."

Without another word, he mounted his horse and spurred it into motion. The riders followed, their hooves kicking up dust as they disappeared down the road.

Krow watched them go, his jaw tight. "That bought you time, boy. Nothing more."

Alex's stomach churned. Time. For what?

Krow locked eyes with my father, a silent understanding passing between them.

My father nodded, then grabbed my hands.

"We need to get going," he said hastily.

My mother had already rushed home to pack my things.

"What's the plan?" I demanded. "Didn't they leave already?"

Krow sighed, his usual stoic mask cracking to reveal a flicker of worry. "That was them asking nicely. Since I refused, they'll use force next time." He paused, his voice heavy. "This village is a danger zone for you now. The countdown started the moment they learned of your existence."

I followed my father home, where my mother had prepared rations, clothes, and supplies for a month-long journey.

"I see my things," I said, narrowing my eyes. "Where are yours?"

My mother exchanged a glance with my father, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"They know about the golden-eyed boy," my father said, masking his worry with a forced smile. "If you're not here, there's no danger. You just need to disappear for now. We'll join you later."

"If the village has been discovered," I argued, "there's no point in any of us staying."

My mother's voice cracked. "I wish I could stay by your side, my love. But if we all disappear, it'll give them clues about your origins."

I clenched my fists. "Promise me you'll join me when things quiet down."

My mother cupped my face, then pulled me into a tight hug. "We will… we'll be together again," she whispered, her tears wetting my shoulder.

That night, Sir Krow arrived. "Is everything ready?"

My father nodded. "Yes."

Krow's poker face barely masked the worry I'd seen earlier. "Let's get going. I'll take you to the safest place from here."

I said my goodbyes—tearful hugs with my parents, Jol, and Mok. Everyone who had become my family in this life. Everyone I was about to lose again.

---

### **The Massacre**

Four hours into our journey, I felt it—a gnawing unease in my chest. I turned to see the sky burning red in the distance, smoke curling upward like a funeral pyre.

"Something's wrong," I said, my voice low.

Krow grabbed my shoulder. "We can't go back."

I pushed his hand aside, my golden eyes glowing bright. "I'm going back. Don't stop me."

Unbeknownst to me, I'd activated my **noble eyes' Authority**, a power I didn't yet understand. Krow froze, shock and worry etched on his face as I sprinted toward the village.

---

### **Author POV**

The smell hit Alex first—iron and ash, thick and suffocating. Then the sounds: crackling flames, distant screams fading into silence.

Bodies littered the ground, strewn like broken dolls. The butcher who'd given him extra scraps. The old man who'd told stories of the war.

And then he saw him.

Gerro lay near the well, his sword still clutched in a bloody grip. His chest was split open, but his eyes—his eyes were still open, staring at nothing.

"Dad…?" Alex choked out.

A gurgling breath answered him.

Alex dropped to his knees, pressing a shaking hand to the wound. His mana heart screamed to heal, but it was too late. Too much blood.

"Your… mother…" Gerro rasped. "They took her. Took… the women."

"Who?" Alex's voice broke. "Who took them?"

"Bandits… but… not bandits." Gerro coughed, blood spilling over his lips. "A noble's forces."

Something inside Alex snapped. His mana surged, violent and searing, but he couldn't control it.

Gerro squeezed his wrist. "Stay… alive. Avenge us… but live." He managed a weak grin. "Sorry… couldn't fulfill my promise… to be… together."

His grip slackened.

Gerro exhaled one last time.

"No! NO! NOT AGAIN!" Alex's wail tore through the night, raw and unrelenting. He clutched his father's lifeless body, screaming until his voice cracked.

Behind him, the flames roared higher, consuming the only home he'd ever known.

---

### **Wrath and Ruin**

Alex stumbled through the wreckage like a ghost, searching for familiar faces.

"Mok!" His voice cracked as he found the boy slumped against a wall, a blade jutting from his stomach.

Mok's eyes fluttered open. "A-Alex? You… came back."

Alex pressed his hands to the wound, mana pouring into his palms.

"Don't waste it," Mok whispered. "Not on me." A tear slid down his cheek. "They killed Father. Tortured Mother in front of me. She couldn't take it… she died."

Alex's whole body trembled. "I can save you—"

"Don't." Mok's eyes locked onto his. "Kill them. The ones who did this. Promise me."

Alex swallowed. "I promise."

Mok smiled—just a ghost of his usual grin. "Good."

Then he stilled.

The night swallowed Alex's scream.

A single silver hair drifted past his vision, settling in the blood-streaked dirt. The elf's hair.

His promise burned in his chest like a brand.

The noble had taken everything.

Alex would take everything from him.

---

### **The Confession**

Krow found Alex hours later, standing amid the wreckage.

The fires had died, leaving only embers and the stench of burnt flesh. Bodies littered the ground—some recognizable, others too disfigured to name.

Alex stood motionless, his golden eyes hollow, his hands trembling at his sides.

"I should've been here," Krow murmured, his voice hoarse. "I should've protected them."

Alex didn't look at him. "You protected me instead."

"That's what Gerro asked me to do," Krow said, his jaw clenched. "To make sure his son survived. But after looking at you now i feel like i failed him."

Alex's breath hitched. "We both did."

The silence between them was suffocating, heavy with loss.

Alex finally turned, his golden eyes burning with unshed tears. "I saw my father die. I saw Mok die. They screamed for help, and I wasn't here." His voice broke. "I wasn't here."

Krow closed his eyes. "There was nothing you could've done."

"But I will do something now." Alex's voice was cold, venomous. "A noble's forces did this. That means a noble *ordered* this."

His golden eyes gleamed dangerously.

"I'll burn his house to the ground. I'll carve my name into their bones. I'll make them *beg* before I end them."

Krow stepped closer, placing a firm hand on Alex's shoulder. "Then we hunt, boy."

Alex didn't flinch.

"Yes," he whispered, his voice cold as the grave. "We hunt."