Confrontation

A frown appears on his face.

He looks down and responds, "Because I can't use Ether," his eyes gleaming with grief.

"Do you want to become strong?" Griffith asks with anticipation.

Hearing this, Alf clenches his fist. He remembers all the taunting comments he has received for his lack of talent in wielding Ether. Clay's taunts continue to reverberate in his mind, frustrating him even further.

He looks up, still exhausted from the run. "Yes," he replies in a low voice. "I want to become strong."

Gazing at him, Griffith grins in satisfaction. Although Alf's voice seemed weak, lacking any vigor, his eyes were fierce—which conveyed his determination, and that was enough to convince Griffith.

"Good. Strength isn't just about muscles or Ether. It's about heart, will, and discipline. If you keep that fire alive, you'll go far."

Alf nods slightly, too drained to say anything.

A glimmer of hope rises in his heart.

"Maybe I can become stronger," he wonders. "Strong enough that I will not be looked down upon, and Mom might finally visit me again?"

The instructor turns to the other four boys. "Starting tomorrow, we begin serious training. If you think today was hard, then prepare yourselves. If you can't endure, you're free to quit anytime."

Clay scoffs, clearly unfazed. "Hmph, as if I'd ever quit."

Alf remains silent, but deep inside, he vows, "I won't quit. No matter how hard it gets, I will keep going."

An hour later—

After the training session, Alf decides to head home. He drags himself, his entire body aching from the brutal day, and starts treading on the muddy path leading to his house. The route is surrounded by a dense cover of forest swarming with different kinds of monsters, ready to lunge at anyone that crosses their path. The sky is crimson, and the woody fragrance of the jungle lingers in the evening air. The sun's light fades and dusk draws near. The surroundings are filled with the howling of wolves and other odd sounds one would expect to hear in a dark forest.

Alf tries to walk as fast as his legs allow him to, trying to quickly walk past the frightening forest, reminiscent of the dream he had this morning. A metallic flavour appears in his mouth. He begins to shake as his heart starts to pound heavily, and cold sweat escapes from his body. His instincts are screaming at him, telling him to flee and find a place to hide, as if warning him of threat.

"Hey! Where do you think you're going?"

A loud shout halts his step, making him take a cautious glance behind. A dark figure is a few meters away from him.

Clay stands there, arms crossed, his usual smug grin in place. But for a moment, Alf swears—he does'nt look like Clay at all.

"What are you doing here?" Alf snaps at him."Were you following me?"

"I followed you to teach you a lesson!" Clay responds smugly, with his eyes darting around to check the surroundings.

He then starts laughing tauntingly while holding his stomach. "By the way, I saw you walking around, scared like a little girl."

"Besides, this is the perfect opportunity. No one will know, even if something bad happenes here." Clay says with a sinister look on his face, his aura changing drastically from before.

He starts to walk towards Alf, with slow deliberate steps.

If the previous Clay was arrogant and childish, the current one is threatening, like a predator watching its victim—moving slowly toward it in hopes of surprising it and mauling it.

Seeing this, a wave of dread washes over Alf. He looks at his alleged classmate, terrified.

He can't move.

He can't breathe.

Frozen in fear.

The aura radiating from him is wrong. Its unnatural. No child should feel this terrifying.

"This isn't Clay!" Alf realizes, his face getting paler by the second.

He asks in a whisper, "W-Who are you?" His lips barely move.

In response, Clay tilts his head, his lips curling up into a sneer.

He gazes at Alf, and in a voice not his own, he chuckles darkly.

"Right," he begins in a hoarse voice "I'm not your little friend."

He then snaps his fingers and a dark shadow appears around him. The shadow begins to fade, gradually revealing his true form, which Alf stares at in absolute shock.

It is a tall figure, dressed head to toe in black. His face is partially covered and he is equipped with different kinds of weapons—daggers, bows, and knives strapped around his arms and legs.

One defining feature of his are his eyes, that are fully white, with no visible Iris.

The appearance of this person scared Alf even more.

"Who are you?" Alf asks desperately, "What do you want?"

At this point, tears are flowing from his eyes. He is on the verge of a breakdown yet he somehow manages to keep it together. This day couldn't have gotten more eventful for a child like him.

The man let's out a sinister chuckle. "I'm here for a Job." He looks at Alf's pale face with an amusing smile and continues "That is to kill you."

Alf bolts away, as soon as the man finishes the sentence. His breath ragged and his heart hammering in his chest.

"No no no no." Alf violently shakes his head,

"Go away! This isn't real!" He tries to deny reality, his eyes gleaming with dread.

Despite his legs being in a really bad condition, he manages to muster up some of his strength and starts running at full speed without looking back. He flees in panic, seeking a way out of this nightmare.

"Oh," the assassin remarks "Trying to run away are we?"

A blood thirsty smirk appears on his face before he bursts forward, leaving a trail of dust in his wake. In an instant, he catches up and is now running alongside Alf.

Alf's eyes widen in horror.

"How did he get here so fast?"

"Trying to run is pointless," he says while grinning wildly. "Just accept your fate and die a painless death."

Alf let's out a panicked squeal and starts screaming.

"AHH! Someone help me! Uncle Daniel!"

Before he can yell again, a strong arm yanks him back, trapping him in a chokehold.

"Shh... Stop struggling. I told you—running is pointless."

The assassin takes out a knife strapped to his arm. It is curved and a green vapour rises from the blade—poison.

He tilts his head, examining the knife with a sinister grin.

"Now... die."

He thrusts the knife forwards, aiming for Alf's neck.

"GRR!"

A red blur leaps out of the bushes.

Before the balde can pierce Alf's skin, a wolf lunges at the assassin's face, fangs bared

"Tch—!" The man clicks his tongue in frustration and shoves Alf aside, raising his arm just in time to block the wolf's snapping jaws.

The wolf growls and claws at him wildly, forcing him back. With a swift motion, he swings his poisoned knife, slicing the wolf's stomach open.

The wolf lands with a thud on the ground, its body lifeless.

The Assassin exhales, annoyed. "Damn mutt."

But before he can regain his composure—

More growls echo through the forest.

His head snaps up.

From the shadows of the trees, a dozen red wolves emerge.

Their fiery eyes gleam in the dark, locked onto the assassin. Their lips curl back, revealing rows of razor-sharp fangs.

"GRR!"

The pack lunges all at once.

The man spins his knife and steps into a defensive stance.

"Tsk. Annoying beasts."

He glares at the approaching wolves, preparing a counter. His gaze falls on Alf, who is seated in the mud, watching the spectacle unfold with wide eyes and a slightly open mouth.

"After I kill these, its your turn." The assassin remarks inwardly. He locks his gaze back onto the incoming attack and licks his lips.

"This is going to be fun," he mumbles with a mad smirk and begins fighting the wolf onslaught.

Alf is finally jolted out of his trance by the sight of sliced flesh and blood everywhere.

The fragrance of blood is in the air, making him take a nervous gulp.

"This is my chance!"

He starts sprinting away, and continues to run for a while in a random direction, unknowingly wondering deep into the monster infested zone.

"Run. Just run, don't stop. Don't look back."

Alf keeps saying to himself as he keeps on running aimlessly. But his stamina and fatigue catch up to him, forcing him to take a break.

He glances behind, and sees no one chasing after him anymore.

"Finally!" He exclaims, exhaling. "Looks like I lost him."

Alf pauses, his breath ragged and looks around. The forest is eerily quite. No growls and howls. No snapping jaw's—nothing. It is as if the monsters have decided to leave him alone, but why?

After calming himself down, Alf observes his surroundings and notes that he is in the deep forest region, which is supposed to be crawling with monsters everywhere.

When he is looking for a spot to sleep, he hears strange noises such as wind blowing behind him and twigs shifting.

However, the darkness of the forest impairs his ability to perceive anything, leading him to panic slightly.

Just when he is panicking, Uncle Daniel's words echo in his mind.

"You must always be aware of your surroundings. The enemy won't hesitate to sneak up on you."

Alf suddenly realizes something. He sits cross legged, in a meditative pose and forces his tired eyes open before gently closing them, concentrating on perceiving his surroundings—any sound, smell, or movement in the air. He tries to sense everything around him without depending on his vision.

Swish...

Alf jerks his head down.

He ducks just in time as an arrow flies over him, hitting a nearby tree.

He leaps up and starts darting his eyes about, trying to spot the sniper in the darkness.

Luckily the arrow missed, otherwise it would have pierced directly through his head.

"That was close!" Alf mutters and falls to the ground from the adrenaline rush, panting.

"No! I can't stay still."

He quickly stands back up and slips stealthily between trees in the hopes of escaping the Assassin hiding in the shadows.

"Trying to flee again?"

An amused voice echoes around him.

Alf whips his head up, darting his gaze about to pinpoint the location of the voice.

"I admit it, you have got good senses," the assassin proclaims. "But it does not matter. You will die today, and no one is coming to save you."

Alf notices a pair of frightening white eyes looking at him from the darkness, emitting a radiance unlike that of human eyes.

Alf's pivots from his spot, and attempts to flee, but he falls down face first on the groud.

His legs do not move. They refuse to listen to him.

"No! Why can't I move?" Alf shouts in panic while his whole body trembles.

His body has been abused all day. It eventually gave out.

He starts crawling, dragging himself away in desperation, looking for a way to survive.

The assassin emerges from the shadows.

"Hahahaha!"

He starts laughing sadistically, while holding his stomach, looking at Alf's desperate attempt.

"Right," he says with a smirk. "Crawl and beg for mercy!"

The assassin approaches the crawling Alf and lifts him by the collar with one hand.

"Now now," he whispers darkly. "Dont worry, I will make it quick."

He once again goes for the knife on his arm.

He grips it, ready to thrust at Alf's heart.

"Please don't kill me," Alf says pleadingly with tears flowing down his face.

But the assassin doesn't budge, and grins widely. "No."

Alf snaps his jaw on the assassin's hand grabbing his collar, leaving a bite wound.

"ARGH!" The assassin screams in pain, and let's go of his grip on Alf's collar.

Alf falls to the ground with a thump and begins crawling away desperately.

"Someone! Help me!"

He screams on top of his lungs and cries.

The assassin growls and glares at Alf. He snatches the knife and slashes his back open.

Alf's face twitches in agony, and he collapses on the ground, blood streaming from the wound, his garments moist and crimson.

"Let us put an end to this!"

The assassin stares at the unconscious Alf with flaming eyes and clinched fists. This time, he brings out a different knife, which is strapped to his legs.

He grabs it, ready to stab Alf's back.

"What!" His hand, which is grasping the knife, is sliced off and falls to the ground.

He begins screaming in anguish while holding his severed arm, blood gushing out and spraying his face.

A fierce looking old man stands there with a blade in hand, glaring at the assassin with cold eyes.

The assassin trips on a branch while trying to flee. He falls and strikes his head against a rock, losing consciousness.

The old man's gaze falls on Alf, who is lying in a pool of blood.

"Alf!" He exclaims in horror and embraces Alf, dragging him out of the dirt.

"Son! Please! Stay with me."

He gently taps Alf's face, trying to force him awake.

Alf opens his eyes slightly. His vision is blurred and his body is cold. He feels the warm hand on his face and looks up at the man embracing him. It is Daniel—his gray hair gleaming under the moonlight, his wrinkled face etched with worry.

"You are heare," Alf says weakly. "Thank God."

He looks at Daniel's face, his vision darkening, eyes heavy. At this point he has lost a lot of blood. It is a miracle that he is still alive, let alone concious.

"Don't worry son! I'm here now! You can rest." Daniel whisper's. "I'm sorry for not arriving sooner."

Hearing this, Alf smiles weakly. "I forgive you," he says.

He slowly shuts his eyes and sinks into the darkness.

To be continued...