The Dragonborn Overlord of the New World

by nolalothcaragascint1

[Overlord AU/Canon Divergence. No Ainz or Nazarick] [Slow burn] Guild Master Tiberius of the Sanguine Dragons has spent the last 12 years adventuring throughout the nine worlds of YGGDRASIL. But now the game servers are shutting down. What happens when he inadvertently remains behind during the shut down? How will Tiberius react when finds himself in a New World?

6. Chapter IV

Chapter IV

First Blood

The two sisters strode through the simple dirt paths of Carne Village's streets on their way home. Walking at the forefront was the elder of the siblings while her wayward little sister trod several paces back.

Occasionally, Enri's head swiveled casting her gaze back over her shoulder and to the younger Nemu.

The younger girl trudged along at a languished pace, almost dragging her shoes through the dirt. It was an act of futility as if in her childish mindset were she to move slowly enough she could forestall any punishment indefinitely.

While on her face was a rather sour expression, the same she'd worn the whole way. It was a face that Enri had seen her sister wear many a time. Nemu particularly tended to wear when she wasn't allowed to do something. Or in this case, when she was facing the consequences of her actions.

It's not my fault. If you had just done your chores like you're supposed to. Mom wouldn't have sent me to come and bring you home.

But for all Nemu's effort and desire to put off the return to the family home. It was inevitable that they would reach the house.

Reaching out, Enri twisted the door's handle, there was a click and the door swung open.

As Enri stood at the threshold of the home, there came a strong push against her left side. It was a signal to move aside and so she did, allowing the smaller sibling to pass before she tried to muscle her way past.

With a brief shake of her head, the teenager followed her sister inside.

The house's interior was not particularly spacious, but it was consistent with the size of the other houses in the village. Most dwellings followed a similar basic design, which contributed to their relatively modest proportions.

The main room stood as the largest space in the house. It offered a fairly sizable and open area, spanning approximately twenty feet in width and a little over half that in length. This room served as the family's primary gathering place, where they spent most of their time together.

On the western side, you would find the kitchen adorned with its cabinetry and countertops, accompanied by a washbasin, and a sturdy cast-iron wood-burning stove nestled in the corner. On the opposite side of the room, a fireplace stood with a soot-blackened stone mantle, and within its hearth lay a pile of ash from the previous night's fire. Throughout the space, basic furnishings owned by the family were thoughtfully arranged.

In the center of the room, an old oaken table stood, its surface bearing the marks of many years of use, now worn smooth by time. Four sturdy chairs encircled the table, each showing signs of frequent use, though noticeably newer compared to the table. The only other piece of furniture present in the room was a well-worn rocking chair, adding a touch of comfort to the space.

Gazing at the rocking chair brought back fond memories for Enri. Of the times in her youth, sitting on her mother's lap as they gently rocked back and forth. Usually, this resulted in Enri soon falling asleep.

To the back of the room along the same wall as the fireplace was a short hallway. This hall led to the other three rooms in the house.

The first door on the left led to the small bedroom which was shared by the two sisters. Inside were two single beds, a dresser for their clothing, and two small bedside tables.

The door across the hall led to the washroom. It was the smallest room and contained what the family needed to take care of their hygienic needs.

The last door at the end of the hall was that of her parents' bedroom. Here there was a single large bed, a wardrobe, and a small table stood on either side of the bed.

Overall the house was nothing special. But that didn't matter one bit. This was home and that was all that mattered.

Shutting the door behind her, Enri turned to the woman busied in the kitchen. The older woman stood with her arms partially submerged in the washbasin as she scrubbed the remnants of the morning meal from a pot.

"Mom, we're back," the eldest daughter announced their presence.

Upon hearing her daughter's voice, Sofina withdrew her arms from the soiled water. The lather of soap still clung to her forearms as she reached for a waiting towel. Methodically she wiped the water and soap from her arms before replacing the rag on the counter.

Sofina, with a height not much surpassing that of her eldest daughter, had undergone a remarkable transformation since becoming a mother. The birth of her daughters had brought forth changes in her body, accentuating her curves with rounder hips and a fuller bosom, which her husband affectionately described as a "more motherly figure." Yet, these changes only added to her allure, something her husband never failed to remind her of, as he admired her enhanced beauty.

Her face exuded a gentle charm, adorned with delicate feminine features that captivated those who met her. Her eyes, a mesmerizing shade of rich blue, seemed to emit an aura of compassion, drawing people closer with their warmth. And that smile! It could light up the darkest of days and lift the spirits of anyone lucky enough to witness it.

Her face exuded a gentle charm, adorned with delicate feminine features that captivated those who met her. Her eyes, a mesmerizing shade of rich blue, seemed to emit an aura of compassion, drawing people closer with their warmth. And that smile! It could light up the darkest of days and lift the spirits of anyone lucky enough to witness it.

Similar to Enri, she boasted a full head of radiant blonde hair that cascaded down to her shoulder blades, a shimmering golden curtain framing her countenance. However, amid her bustling activities, she often tucked her lustrous locks beneath a kerchief, ensuring they didn't interfere with her work or fall prey to dirt and grime. Despite this practical choice, her beauty shone through, making her a vision of grace and charm in the midst of even the most mundane tasks.

In customary fashion, she adorned herself in a simple yet elegant earthen-toned gown, gracefully reaching down to her ankles, accompanied by a cream-coloured vest that added a touch of charm to her ensemble. It was a choice of attire that bore a striking resemblance to what her eldest daughter often wore, creating a visual harmony that highlighted their familial connection.

Taking several steps the disgruntled mother stood before her two children. Then placing her hands on her hips, Sofina stared down at her youngest child.

"And just where did you run off to young lady? Out to play again without finishing your chores?"

"I just went to see the adventurers," Nemu responded with a hint of her former excitement returned to her, "They were so cool and their armour was so shiny. I bet they had to fight a hundred monsters to get it."

Hearing her daughter gush in her enthusiasm, Sofina could not help but shake her head. But none of this came as a surprise to the mother. Nemu always had a bit of a rebellious streak within her. Often choosing to run off and play with the other children rather than tending to her responsibilities.

"But you know you have chores to do, Nemu."

Faced with her mother's hardened stare the young girl wilted like a water-loving flower in a desert. Timidly, Nemu lifted her gaze from the ground between them to meet her mother's eyes.

"I know… But I would've missed them if I didn't go."

"Maybe you would've, maybe you wouldn't. But I do know had you done your chores, you would've had more time to see them."

Sofina spoke with a cool and commanding tone.

Seeing her mother's mounting displeasure, Nemu adopted a submissive posture and spoke in an innocent childlike manner.

"I'm sorry momma."

Wise to the young girl's tactics, Sofina drew herself up to her full height and crossed her arms over her bust as she wielded a stare as only a mother could.

"Don't think that's gonna work on me, young lady. Now, get to your chores and when your father gets done washing up, then we'll discuss what your punishment will be."

With an indignant huff, Nemu turned and half-stomped her way across the room to the fireplace. Once there she reached out, snatching the small hand broom and dustpan from their resting place. Then set to work gathering the old ash from the hearth and depositing it into a nearby bucket for transport and disposal.

Sofina remained where she stood, her eyes following her youngest daughter for a time. Satisfied little Nemu did not require continued supervision, she turned away and to her elder daughter.

"Oh, Enri, why can't she be more like you? You were far less of a troublemaker than your sister when you were her age." Sofina spoke in soft tones and glanced at Nemu, "I swear she is more like your father than me."

"Aww, don't be too upset with her mom," Enri offered a gentle smile, "She's still growing up, I bet she'll grow out of this in no time. Besides, it's not often that adventurers such as those pass through here."

Sofina gave a mock gasp, "Oh, Enri, not you too."

The teenager shared a giggle of laughter with her mother. Before the older woman sighed as she cupped the elbow of one arm while she rubbed her forehead with her free hand.

"So, tell then, did you get a chance to see them?"

Enri grinned, "Oh yes. Nemu, of course, was already talking to them when I found her. They seemed quite friendly."

Sofina returned the smile, "Well then, since that's been settled. Enri would you be so kind as to fetch more water? I'm sorry to have to bother you but the washing took a bit much."

"It's okay, mom."

"Thank you, deary."

With a smile on her face, the teenager hugged her mom briefly before turning and making her way to the door. She paused for a moment as she watched her sister continue with the first of her chores. Then with a turn of the handle, Enri slipped through the opened door and back outside.

Leaving the entrance to the home, Enri strode around to the side of the house and plucked the large pail from its resting spot. Then with the bucket in hand, she set off on her journey to the village well to gather the water her mother had requested.

As she strode through the hamlet, Enri reflected on the events of the day so far.

The energy that the arrival of the pair of adventurers had brought with them had dissipated entirely. Even the whirl of activity that generally accompanied the coming of the usual passing traders had failed to create such a stir. But the village was quiet now with most of the people having returned to their homes, and many readying for the coming evening. By now most of the gossip had made its rounds of the villagers and their conversations had probably turned back to the day's work and what was to come on the morrow.

The only event that came close as far as Enri had seen recently was the visit paid to the village by one of The Kingdom's tax collectors.

But the discussion that followed was of an entirely different sort.

Then as to be expected, Enri's thoughts were brought back to her sister.

I guess I can't really blame Nemu for doing what she did. She just wants to have fun and it's not like I didn't get into trouble for basically the same things when I was younger.

The teen subconsciously winced as she recalled many a time when she had a rather sore bottom for the spanking her mother had imparted to her.

And besides, it's been a long while since we got any adventurers passing through here. And never any like them.

As Enri envisioned the armoured pair, she compared them to all the adventurers she'd previously encountered.

Adventurers on their own were a great rarity around these parts. Most seemed to prefer to work around the larger towns and cities where they could afford better pay. When any did find their way out this far, it was typically in the case of some monster making enough of a nuisance of itself that it was disrupting trade. Or it had killed enough people that some lord was forced to take notice as it cost him his tax revenue.

But the majority of the time they came as bodyguards for the traveling trade caravans. These caravans customarily belonged to wealthy traders who wished to be well-protected as they moved along the open roads.

Many of the adventurers Enri had seen wore a variety of armours. From the simple padded armours made of thick layers of cloth and leather to the costlier chainmail coats. Some even wore a mishmash of different armours and others wore coats of scale mail.

However, once when she was a little older than Nemu, an affluent merchant had passed through on his way to Baharuth. Or some such place. With him, he had brought an escort of a team of adventurers. This group had been the best equipped that she had seen.

Each of them had worn a set of what they referred to as full plate armour. Seeing them reminded her of the stories of raiders her father would tell her. But their armour had been nothing like that of what the two visitors had possessed.

Their armour had been dull, simple unadorned metal plates. A world apart from the highly stylized gear the two travelers wore.

Nemu had been correct about one thing, that armour had probably cost them a fortune.

Even she knew the look of quality craftsmanship when she saw it. As such it was safe to assume that equipment of such quality would demand an equally high price to be paid.

So it stood to reason for the duo to be so encased in an armour of that level of quality. It likely meant that they had to be rather wealthy themselves. As the idea of wealthy adventurers came to Enri's mind, she was reminded of something one of the adventurers had told her and her father back then.

"There are few old or rich adventurers. Most tend to die poor. Or they make it big and then retire to lives of comfort. But there are those few that carry on and surpass all others. It's those people that legends are built around."

Remembering those words made the teen wonder.

If that were true, then what did it say about those two?

But like many in the village, she had little knowledge about them. She'd heard that they were supposed to be from someplace far away and had gotten lost in the Forest of Tob.

What must their trip through that dense woodland have been like? The Forest of Tob was a dangerous place, filled with creatures that would have no qualms about devouring a person. So for the two of them to venture through that place and emerge seemingly unscathed. They must be something special.

"Well, at least they seemed friendly enough. I would've thought that they'd act like those hoity-toity nobles."

So distracted by her thoughts that Enri barely noticed her journey coming to an end.

The well was situated on the far side of the village from her family's home. Not a terrible distance to walk, after all, Carne wasn't a very big place. But it was not the most convenient to do so when the weather turned unpleasant. Especially when having to carry a bucket filled with three gallons of water.

Hauling such weight all that way sometimes made the distance seem much further than it truly was.

However, it was a trip that Enri was used to making.

Every morning, in the early hours of the day, Enri would get dressed and set out to gather the family's daily requirement of water. How she came to be responsible for this chore was a mix of being the eldest daughter, and that water fetching was a domestic chore which was a woman's work. Originally, she would fetch the water with her mother and sometimes it was with her father. But as she got older, it became more frequent that it was just her.

So it was that Enri would go with the bucket in hand to the well and back again. Each time the liquid cargo would be deposited in the home's water tank, and to fill such a large often took the teen five or six trips. Sometimes she was able to cut the time in half if she had a second pail.

Approaching the well, Enri was grateful that her mother had only asked her to procure a single bucket's worth.

She set the vessel beside the low stone retaining wall before reaching for the nearby hefty hook. The hook slotted into a ring affixed to the bucket's handle easily enough. With that, it was a simple task of taking the winch's crank handle and lowering the bucket down to drink its fill of the well water below.

Enri rolled back her gown's long sleeves past her elbow, exposing the flesh of her arms. Thanks to the many years she had spent aiding her parents in their fieldwork and hauling these heavy buckets on a daily basis, it was reflected in her physique. Most promptly this could be seen on her arms, though they still retained much of their slender shape, the muscles were well-defined containing a surprising amount of strength.

As of late, the teen couldn't help but take note of her continued muscle development. Though she was loath to admit it, this brought her a level of discomfort as many would see this as an unbecoming trait for a proper woman.

Watching the rope, she noticed the tale-tell sign the bucket had made it to the water as the excess rope grew slack. She waited for a moment before reversing the direction of the crank and drawing the bucket backup.

The rope wound itself about the spit and the now-laden pail came into view, the water sloshed over the bucket's sides. Engaging the hoist's locking mechanism, the teen pulled the bucket to her before removing the hook from the handle and placing it on its resting peg.

Taking a moment, Enri reordered her sleeves then taking hold of the handle, she lifted it and set about returning home.

Retracing her path, the teenager moved with a leisurely pace. After all, there was no particular hurry otherwise her mother would surely have mentioned it. So she strode, carrying her liquid cargo enjoying the cool afternoon breeze and the twitter of bird song on the wind.

This tranquil afternoon, however, was soon to take an unexpected and altogether unpleasant turn.

A shrill cry filled the air freezing Enri in her tracks, the water in the bucket sloshed and spilled over the edge with the sudden stop.

"W-what was that?"

The girl stood motionless, listening should the noise come again. It was an odd noise, not unlike the strangled squawk of poultry before it was butchered. Yet the sound was deeper and not like any farmyard sound she'd heard before.

Whatever it was made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end and a knot formed in the pit of her stomach.

Though her instincts were howling at her to turn back and get away from here. Yet her curiosity and concern drove her forward, toward the sounds. Enri strode carefully, edging her way through an alley between two houses. Nearing the end, she pressed herself tight against the stone wall and dared to peek around the corner.

Another of those disturbing cries could be heard and the teen felt her heart lurch within her chest.

Gazing down the dirt street, Enri bore witness to the source of these dreadful sounds.

Two houses over a man wearing a suit of armour stood with his sword in hand. On the ground, before the raider was a young man. He lay propped up by his arm, while he held the other out as if to shield himself.

Viewing him from behind, Enri could not tell who the young man was. But she could tell that he was wounded.

The raider strode closer, his movements were slow and deliberate. Raising his sword he swung, the blade whistled and the young man fell to the brigand's blade like wheat before the scythe.

In the shock of seeing such a scene, Enri released the bucket from her grasp as she lifted her hands to her cover her mouth, stifling a gasp. The container landed at her feet with a thud and its liquid contents splashed and spilled out turning the dirt beneath her feet into thick mud and wetting her shoes.

As the raider lifted his gaze from the lifeless body at his feet, the teenager pulled back around the corner. Her heart raced as terror held her firmly in its icy grip. She listened closely for the sounds of clanking metal in case this metal-encased terror approached.

There came another scream and Enri found herself peaking beyond the corner once again.

The raider had turned, looking back to the house behind him. A substantial thud was followed by equally heavy footfalls and another armoured individual appeared from the darkened doorway. His left hand grasped tightly the forearm of the limp body of a woman as he dragged her from the house. She had a dazed appearance as her head hung slack and she weakly moved her legs in an uncoordinated manner.

Under the light of the afternoon sun, Enri could see the woman's clothes were tattered. Much of her skirt had been ripped allowing the fullness of her legs to be seen. While her bare breasts could be seen hanging through the torn blouse.

Dragging the listless woman behind him, the second raider made strides to join the first individual. Standing before his comrade the raider released his hold on the woman's forearm, allowing her to unceremoniously fall to the dirt with a soft thump.

With an unobstructed view, Enri could see this man wore an open-faced helmet while the other's was closed. This meant she witnessed the smile that spread across his face with what came next.

The armoured man knelt before reaching out to take a fist full of the woman's dark tresses in hand and roughly yanking her head back. Then his arm moved behind his back and from the sheath on his belt, he drew a dagger, the steel of the blade gleamed brightly in the light. Extending his arm, the second man held it like an offering to the other.

The other raider took hold of the dagger hilt and leaned down. Pressing the knife edge to the pale flesh of the woman's neck brought about a gasp. Then in a slow and smooth motion, the steel was drawn across the delicate flesh of her neck.

Soft flesh was parted beneath the sharp edge and rivulets of crimson spilled from the gaping wound. The woman's eyes widened in shock as a horrid croaking gurgle was ushered from her mouth.

Enri felt her stomach churn at the sight and the acidic bite of bile in the back of her throat.

Soon another scream echoed through the air and filled her ears. This scream was quickly joined by a chorus.

Unable to bear witness to this scene any longer, Enri pushed off the wall and began to back away from the corner. Her movements were hesitant at first, her eyes watching the end of the alley. As the fear that at any moment those monsters would come for her. When another anguished cry rang out, she spun on her heel, and facing the alley's entrance she broke out into a full sprint.

What had begun as a peaceful day had now become one of chaos and terror.

Tears streaked down the teenager's cheeks as she ran. All the while listening to the echoing screams that filled the village. Each wail of terror was another person in the village, someone she'd known and was now suffering at the hands of these marauders. The monsters who had invaded their quiet lives and were at work at destroying everything they held dear.

Enri continued to race through the village streets, stopping only long enough to hide.

As she heard the thumps of boots and the clank of armour she hid behind an overturned cart. Peeking through a knothole in the boards, she watched as her fellow villagers were chased.

An older man lost his footing and stumbled. The others didn't seem to notice or care as they continued to run for their lives. All but one of the plundering raiders passed the man by as he lay on the ground. This single raider approached the man with haste and as the man yelled something, the raider plunged his sword through the other's chest. From her spot, Enri thought she saw the raider twist his sword before yanking it free of the corpse.

An uncontrollable tremor of fear passed through her muscles and she subconsciously held her breath. Watching as the armoured killer scanned the area before he took off at a jog to catch up to his companions.

Once he was gone from sight, the teen again set forth as fast as her legs could carry her. In her panic, she did take notice of a change in the air as it grew heavy with the aroma of burnt wood.

Had the raiders set fires? Enri didn't stop to look.

Several times the teenager stumbled, nearly tripping over something in the street. Whether it was a piece of debris or a body, she did not know. Nor did she care to see. Her only care was returning home to be with her family.

Fear drove her to push herself onward at a frantic pace. Even now she could feel the pervasive burn of her muscles and her lungs ached with every rapid breath.

When her family home came into view, a great rush of relief washed over her, at least for the instant. In her frenzy, Enri rushed to the door feeling like she could collapse at any moment.

Laying her hand on the doorknob, she violently twisted it as she pushed hard against the wooden barrier.

"Dad! Mom! Nemu!"

Enri's fearful cries filled the interior as the door swung open. No sooner had the teenager crossed the threshold than she found herself enveloped in the strong arms of her father.

"Enri!" Liam's gruff voice was awash with relief, "Are you all right?!"

His daughter could only sob into his chest as he held her close. As she released her pent-up emotions. Liam could the linen of his shirt growing damp from her tears, and though he wished he could've remained as so, comforting his child. With great reluctance, Liam pulled away from his daughter. Then moving quickly he strode to the still-opened door before slamming it shut and securing the latch.

Feeling her father pull away Enri couldn't help but feel hurt by his actions, even if she did fully understand them. The sound of a door creaking and shuffling footsteps pulled her focus away from her father.

"Enri!" the instantly recognizable voice of her mother called out.

From the short hall at the back of the room emerged her mother and younger sister. The older woman's face was damp with tears and strained with raw emotion. Clinging to her leg was the youngest member of the family. Little Nemu was equally distraught, her small hands held the cloth of her mother's gown balled up in tight fists.

The pair rushed to the teen's side.

Sofina was quick to wrap her arms around her daughter, pulling Enri tight against her body. Any movement on Enri's part only resulted in the embrace growing tighter. The teen felt almost as if her mother was threatening to squeeze the life from her like a python gripping its prey. Unaware of this, the mother bestowed a flutter of kisses on the girl's forehead as her blue eyes sparkled with fresh tears.

"I was so worried about you," Sofina's voice was choked, "I'm so glad you're home."

Feeling the need for air, as well as some space, Enri put up a minor struggle before she managed to disentangle herself from Sofina's iron-like grip. As she took a step back, she ignored the questing hand reaching out, trying to pull her back.

Across the room stood the family patriarch, his back pressed against the door.

With his left shoulder, he braced the door while his right hand gripped the door handle in a white-knuckled hold. Sweat dripped along his neck to soak his shirt collar.

"Dad," Enri's voice was barely above a whisper, "What are we going to do?"

At his daughter's words, Liam turned to face the girl.

The father looked over the faces of the three women with whom he shared this home, the most important individuals in his life. Fear was etched deeply into their features distorting them into expressions he'd never seen before. Swallowing hard, Liam forced himself to bury his fear and think of an answer for the sake of his family.

o – o – o – o

The armoured dragonoid moved with remarkable speed through the dense vegetation of the forest. His armour clanked and rattled with every forceful impact of his boot-clad foot with the earth. So much force was he exerting that he left a sizable indentation with each step.

As he hurried through the forest, he was dimly aware of the presence of the Guardian Overseer keeping pace with him.

Several times he registered the feeling of an impact and a sound like the crack of a whip. Yet there was no appreciable effect on his pacing as he continued headlong through the undergrowth.

At no point in his life could he recall ever moving with such haste as he did now. Not even in his younger years when he served as a lowly intern and was late for work.

The pair had nearly reached the forest clearing, the original point of their arrival before turning back. This meant between them and the Village of Carne was a distance close to two miles. It was a distance that would have taken him a span of twenty or thirty minutes to cover.

If he were still human that is.

Ahead of him, Tiberius could already see the forest had begun to thin and beyond the outline of the village. As far as he was concerned, only a handful of moments had passed since setting off.

Breaking through the thick foliage and emerging onto the cleared grounds of the fields, the pair slowed and stopped.

Here, Tiberius took a scant moment to marvel at this new body he possessed.

If he were still his old self, his muscles would be beyond burning with exertion. No doubt. He'd probably find it hard to even remain standing. Yet there was none of that, not even the slightest edge of a tingle.

Instead, his body moved without hesitation. Feeling as if the return journey had been little more than a brisk walk. To this, the dragonoid would've liked to further test his capabilities. But this would have to wait as the sight of what lay ahead pushed any such thoughts from his mind.

Rising high above the houses of the village were numerous plumes of thick black smoke. To be so dark meant that the fuel was plentiful.

Even from this distance, Tiberius could see the figures of people darting amongst the scattered buildings and heard the screams on the wind.

From behind his helmet, his eyes swept across the fields that surrounded him with a slow swivel of his head.

Lying strewn amongst the crops were the bodies of a number of villagers. Their lifeless forms had been left to rot where they had been cut down.

Turning, Tiberius looked at his escort and she gazed back at him in return. With a sharp nod, Yuliana signaled her readiness to follow.

With a determined stride, the pair moved across the tilled earth and towards the village.

It was here at the village outskirts that the two received the first introduction to the bloodshed that marred this day.

Against the stone wall of a nearby building, a man lay slumped over. His garments splashed with crimson which originated from a stab wound to the abdomen. Not far was the body of an elderly man, hand still gripping the top of his gnarled cane. Several feet away was his head with wispy white hair and a lengthy beard now soiled with scarlet and muddy earth, and face contorted in pain and fear.

Further in another body.

This one lay on the ground curled into the fetal position. With hands pressed tightly to their abdomen in a futile attempt to keep their entrails internal as they spilled out from a deep laceration.

Moving between the homes, Tiberius and Yuliana were met with ever more examples of barbarity and butchery.

In an opened doorway was a young man, looking to be somewhere in his mid or late teens. He was upright but bent over at the waist. The lifeless body was only able to maintain such a stance by virtue of the spear he had been impaled upon. Thrust with enough force to bury its pointed tip not just through his flesh, but also into the oaken door behind him.

While at his feet an older woman, her left arm had been amputated just above the elbow, and a hand axe had been buried deep in her clavicle.

Then came a new sight – a dead horse. Its body was pierced by numerous crossbow bolts that peppered its hide. The animal's corpse was still attached to the cart behind it through the harness it wore.

On the driver's bench was a man with short dark hair and a trimmed goatee. He held the reins in hand as if ready to set forth. Only the crossbow bolt that jutted out from between his ribs spoke visibly to his status of unlife. While a young woman was propped up against the wagon's wheel. In her lap lay her head with long auburn hair fanned out across her legs. As wide brown eyes stared up at the stump of her neck.

If going by their placement and the wagon's readiness, it seemed obvious that the pair were interrupted in their ill-fated attempt to flee the onslaught.

In making their way to the rear of the wagon the pair found another unfortunate victim.

Lying amongst a scattering of emptied burlap sacks was the unmoving body of a teenage girl. The dragonoid's eyes scanned over the scene before him.

The young woman had been stripped of her clothing and left bare for all the world to see. Her body had been placed in such a way that her buttocks rested on the lip of the wagon's bed, leaving her splayed legs to dangle limply over the edge. On the ground – a wadded pile of tattered fabric, undoubtedly what remained of her former garments.

A rivulet of blood trickled down her torso originating from an injury on her right breast. Jutting from the wound was the hilt of a dagger as it had been plunged deep into her chest. Yet more blood oozed from a narrow slash that marred the soft flesh of her neck. However, after a close inspection, the cut did not appear to be deep enough to be fatal.

Was the killer not able to slit her throat properly and had opted to simply stab her through the heart instead? Or was perhaps the shallow cut been an attempt at torture?

However, the true extent of the trauma to which her tormentors had subjected her to was apparent further down.

The flesh of the young woman's thighs were damp with traces of liquid that glistened under the light of the afternoon sun. This with the positioning of the girl's body gave evidence as to what she had faced before the tragic ending of her life.

Directing his gaze upwards Tiberius looked at her face. Or he would have had it not been obscured by the loose strands of long blonde hair.

The golden colour stood out starkly against the drabness of the wooden backdrop. It was a colour that conjured vivid images of a certain teen and her younger sibling with whom he had spoken earlier.

For a moment, he was left to wonder if perhaps this may have been the same girl.

Lifting his head, Tiberius glanced around – searching for the missing sister. Had he maybe missed her among the dead? Or was she by chance still within the home?

Slowly, he reached out and gently brushed aside the hair from the girl's face. Drawing back his gauntleted hand he was afforded a clearer view of the young lady's features.

It was not the same girl.

This girl had been a beauty in life with soft innocent looks with a light spackling of freckles on her cheeks. She had blue-green eyes. Eyes that had once no doubt sparkled in life – now stared glassily at the sky. The spark of life having been extinguished from them.

Setting this aside the dragonoid backed away from the wagon before turning away and continuing onward.

It seemed that not even the most innocent of the village inhabitants had been spared the blade.

The small body of a child, in the neighborhood of ten years, was sprawled on the ground. On their lap, a dog had laid its head, a gaping puncture wound stood out through the short blood-soaked fur. Perhaps an attempt at comfort in their final moments? The dirt beneath the pair had changed to muck as it absorbed the blood from their collective wounds.

Throughout it all, Tiberius looked on with a sense of cool detachment. His face hidden behind the mask of his helmet was a rock of impassivity.

Since the return sojourn to the village, numerous cries could be heard echoing across the area. But now, an eerie silence had descended upon the hamlet.

As a result, the sounds of a scuffle coming from the nearby gap between the houses did well to garner the dragonoid's attention.

With curiosity, Tiberius strode toward the source. The Guardian Overseer was not far behind him.

Entering the sidestreet, the cause of the disturbance became readily apparent. At the far end of the alleyway, several armoured men stood with arming swords in hand as they faced down a lone villager.

Having arranged themselves in a semi-circle, their formation did well to corral the middle-aged man. Leaving him nowhere to flee. In return, he had adopted a defensive posture – keeping his back to the stone wall and wielding a pitchfork as an impromptu spear. Anytime one of his harassers would attempt to approach the villager would thrust out the pitchfork in an effort to fend them off.

The armoured men – seeing the terrified man before them, jeered with pleasure.

Making sport of it, they would seemingly take turns in provoking the villager. Laughing as the victim of their focus would flail about his improvised weapon. This game continued, one would step forward before backing away, easily avoiding the pitchfork's pointed tines.

However, on the villager's last jab, he had left his weapon extended for too long.

This invited a counter. One of the armoured men to the side lurched forwards suddenly and seized the shaft of the farm tool in his gloved hand.

The villager tightened his grip as he wrestled with the other man over the pitchfork. Yet, despite his best efforts, he was no match for the other's greater strength and ultimately the tool was wrenched out of his grasp. Bereft of his only means of defense he stumbled backward until he felt the stone wall press against him.

The raiders laughed seeing the look of despair descend over the villager's face like a mask. However, their mirth seemed to subside when they noticed their prey's eyes were no longer focused on them. But appearing to stare past them, their gaze holding on something beyond them.

The tallest of the armoured men turned following the gaze of the frightened villager. His dark eyes taking in the sight of the approach of the two armoured figures.

"Oi, what do we have here?" the man questioned in a rough voice as he nudged his comrade.

Soon the four others shifted, no longer focusing on their intended quarry, and turned to see what had distracted their companion.

"Well, would'ya get a look at that," one of the men remarked, "I bet that armour cost a pretty gold piece."

"Yeah, bet we'll get a good price for it once we strip it off their corpses."

With the group's focus now set upon the armoured duo they seemed to entirely forget about their previous prey. In seeing this, the fear-stricken villager saw the opportunity and took his chance. Scrambling, he nearly tripped over his own limbs as he sprinted away from the scene as fast as his feet would carry him.

"Don't worry about him," the tall man spoke, "Not like he's going anywhere."

"So who might you two be, eh?"

"Looks like a pair of fancy pants' that found themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time."

As he gazed at the armoured humans before him, the dragonoid felt a burgeoning sensation. Raw and restless it writhed within him, urging him forward, compelling him to act.

"Yuliana, stay here."

"As you wish," there was a perceptible delay in her response. Yet, her master ignored it.

The dragonoid returned his attention to the brutes before him. He squared his shoulders and with an assertive stride, made his way to meet them. As he advanced toward his would-be opponents, his right hand fell upon the hilt of his sword.

"Oh, looks like this one fancies a bit of a go. Well, how's 'bout we show 'em a good time."

Acting as the de facto leader, the largest of the raiders stepped forward. The armoured man moved with the swagger that only overconfidence could provide.

Closing the distance between them to fifteen feet, the raider took hold of his sword's hilt with both hands. He held the sword low, the blade pointing diagonally away from his body.

When he was no more than eight feet away, the tall man increased the breadth of his step. At five feet he raised his blade, readying himself to attack. Then he lunged like a coiled serpent striking at its prey.

From the dragonoid's perspective, the world seemed to shift into slow motion as the raider launched himself at him. Every movement, from the man's airborne trajectory to the spreading delight on his face, unfolded in agonizingly sluggish detail.

Tiberius' hand tightened around Severance's hilt as he instinctively drew the dark crimson blade from its sheath. With a fluid motion, he maneuvered the longsword, holding it horizontally before him with the flat of the blade facing the oncoming opponent. In the midst of the slowed reality, the dragonoid focused his senses, ready to parry the impending attack.

The moment of impact was accompanied by a resounding clang as the two blades clashed. However, as the reverberations echoed through the air, Tiberius sensed that something was amiss.

Behind the ruby lenses of his wolven helmet, the dragonoid furrowed his brow in confusion. His eyes locked onto the raider before him, trying to discern the peculiar feeling that had washed over him during their clash.

Tiberius had successfully countered the attack, and he could see the edge of the raider's sword pressed against the flat of his own. However, what troubled him was not the successful defense itself.

It was the absence of sensation behind the clash. He had expected to feel the sword rattle as the blow landed, to sense the weight of the armoured raider bearing down on his defense. The pushback should have been pronounced, especially considering Tiberius wielded his sword with a single hand, while the raider used a two-handed grip.

Yet, to his bewilderment, the dragonoid felt nothing from the meeting of their blades. It was as if the clash had occurred in a muted reality, devoid of the expected impact.

With a focused gaze, Tiberius observed the raider's sword as it flexed and wavered against Severance's dark blade. The occasional slip of the blade created a high-pitched squeal that echoed in the air. Yet, amidst the clash, the dark crimson of Tiberius' blade remained unyielding and steady in his grasp. The dragonoid flexed his fingers, testing his grip on the sword hilt, and found it to be as solid as ever. Despite the strange lack of feedback from the clash, his weapon held firm, offering him a reassuring sense of control.

This begged the question why was he so unaffected by this contest of strength? Had he overestimated this raider, was it perhaps that he was actually weaker? Or was something else at play, could it be that he was stronger than he thought himself to be?

As the raider swung his sword, a twisted grin of anticipation spread across his face, eager for the kill. However, that excitement quickly turned to astonishment as he realized this mysterious stranger was not just putting up a challenge, but actually besting him in combat. The raider's staggered expression mirrored Tiberius' own internal confusion, and a glint of uncertainty flashed in his eyes.

It was such a change from when he had watched the stranger come at him without even drawing his sword. Confident of his speed the raider had decided to go for a fast lunge and slash. Yet incredibly, the stranger had somehow drawn his blade so deftly that his eyes hadn't been quick enough to detect it. Only when he'd heard the cry of steel on steel that he knew his attack had failed.

Now the two of them stood blade to blade, locked into this challenge.

The raider gritted his teeth, resolving to overcome this upstart.

With a steely tenacity, the raider adjusted his footing, channeling more of his strength into the blade. He intended to break the stalemate and gain the upper hand. As he pressed forward, he hoped that the sudden surge of force would catch the stranger off guard, creating an opportunity for a swift and decisive counterattack.

The silver-clad interloper stood like an immovable sentinel, undeterred by the raider's relentless assault. The raider's efforts to push him back felt as futile as trying to move a colossal mountain. It was as if the stranger's feet were anchored to the very earth itself.

The dragonoid stood, watching as the raider's face turned red with his exertion and mounting frustrations.

The raider's nostrils flared with his every heavy huff. His lips were pulled back in a grimace, revealing yellowing teeth, while his clenched jaw seemed as if it might shatter with tension.

Tiberius tilted his head slightly, his gaze shifting to the raider's feet. The soft earth beneath the armored boots bore the evidence of the fruitless struggle, with deep furrows left behind, showing the raider's lack of forward momentum.

For a moment, Tiberius considered what to do next. Should he release the pressure and let the raider regain his composure, or should he press his advantage and exploit the man's mounting exhaustion?

Ultimately, deciding to experiment, the dragonoid shrugged, nonchalantly pushing back against the raider's bound blade.

To Tiberius, the effort was laughably easy.

But to his adversary, it felt like colliding with a charging battering ram.

The force of the push was overwhelming, shattering the raider's poise and sending him stumbling backward in a wild, ungraceful dance. His arms flailed in a desperate attempt to regain balance, but it was in vain

The man's allies observed the spectacle, making no move to interfere, their expressions a mix of surprise and amusement. They watched as the once-confident raider landed flat on his back in a rather comical fashion.

"You fools! What are you doing?!" the man railed, "Don't just stand there gawking, get 'em!"

Spurred into action by their comrade's words the other four raiders began to move.

One gutsy raider readied his weapon and boldly advanced.

However, the man's body language showcased his inexperience in combat. The positioning of limbs and his movements telegraphed his intentions making it easy for the dragonoid to anticipate.

With his superior speed, outmaneuvering the attack was as artless as performing a quick sidestep. During the action, the dragonoid twisted at the waist and swung Severance in a wide arc. Similarly, Tiberius again felt no resistance as the longsword made contact with the flesh of the raider's neck. In an instant, his head came free from his shoulders.

Scarlet liquid sprayed like a fountain from the stump of his neck while momentum continued to carry the raider's body onward before it tumbled to the earth. Simultaneously, the man's head sailed through the air, eventually rolling on the ground like a loose ball.

The sheer abruptness of the move left the other raiders astonished.

Yet, the momentary shock swiftly transformed into seething anger, and the other three armoured figures sprung into action. The group divided, with two men advancing from the left while the third approached from the right.

A pincer maneuver.

It appeared to be a straightforward tactic: one raider would initiate a frontal assault, serving as a distraction and vulnerability that the others could exploit.

The plan had merit and might have been effective, had the ploy been used against a normal adversary. Sadly for these raiders, their opponent was far from ordinary.

The two raiders on the left stayed close together as they approached. While the other moved further to the right, attempting to draw his attention. The trio stopped their advance, exchanged a glance then with a nod from the man furthest to the left, it began.

The middle raider executed a feint, aiming to divert the dragonoid's attention, while his comrade on the right charged forward.

Without a moment's hesitation, Tiberius responded.

Shifting his weight the dragonoid met the on-rushing raider with a lunge of his own. There was the squeal of metal on metal as the deep crimson blade pierced the man's steel chest piece as though it were mere paper. The armoured man, skewered through the heart, went limp like a boneless fish, and another life was claimed by death that day.

With his opponent still impaled on his sword blade like a human kabob, Tiberius executed a rapid heel turn. His speed and timing were impeccable. While the centrifugal force generated pulled the man's lifeless body from the blade, slinging him toward his cohort.

The raider had but a blink to react before two hundred pounds of human and metal crashed into him. The impact knocked the man off his feet and sent him careening into the stone wall behind him. There was a crunch as his body made contact with the unyielding stone, before coming to rest at the foot of the wall, leaving behind a smear of red to mar the grey stone.

Before the third raider could even react, the dragonoid turned his attention toward him.

His eyes widened with fear as he saw the silver-clad warrior approach. A shiver ran down his spine, and he struggled to muster his courage. With a quick shake of his head, the raider attempted to regain his composure and brace himself for the inevitable attack.

As the dragonoid lifted his longsword, the raider tried to counter. Gripping the hilt with both hands, he held the sword in a high guard stance, positioning the blade parallel to the ground.

Unfortunately, it proved to be a grave mistake. The dragonoid's vastly superior equipment and strength surpassed his abilities by far.

With a swift swing of his arm, Severance moved with such velocity that it appeared as a scarlet streak through the air. In a single merciless strike, Tiberius sliced through the raider's feeble defenses, quite literally.

The raider gazed ahead, his eyes catching a glint of light and hearing a whistling sound as the dark blade surged toward him. Bracing himself for the impending impact, he felt a momentary tremor pass through his sword and into his arm. Then, a sharp metallic clank echoed, followed by an eerie silence.

Once the moment had elapsed, an odd sensation washed over the raider. To the raider, it felt as though his flesh had been set ablaze as waves of searing pain radiated throughout his entire body. So overwhelming was the feeling that the man barely noticed when the world around him began to tilt.

But that couldn't be, he was standing up. Or at least he could've sworn he had been. So why was the world leaning?

Lowering his blade, Tiberius watched as the man's body began to separate.

With his single swing of Severance, the blade collided with the other man. Entering the left clavicle the sword had passed through the armoured chest plate and the flesh beneath before exiting at his hip. So quick was the cut that simple friction was enough to hold the halves together. But it didn't last long as the upper and lower portions came apart. The upper slid briefly before tumbling to the left while the lower half simply collapsed where he stood.

Without the flesh to contain them, the man's entrails spilled out on the ground. While jets of crimson essence spurted from the severed blood vessels to seep into the earth.

Standing over the fallen warrior, the dragonoid gazed down at the body. Within his mind, Tiberius was at a loss with his actions. He had looked upon the carnage these men had wrought without revulsion. And now he had taken the lives of four men without hesitation. As again he came to the same question as before, why was he not bothered by any of this?

A sudden outburst of a frenzied scream pulled the dragonoid away from his inner dilemma.

Like a whirlwind, he turned, his eyes falling upon the remaining raider, who had initiated this fracas.

The raider stood at arm's length with his sword raised, ready to strike. His expression was twisted into one of fury, and his mouth was agape as he gave voice to his rage.

However, his mighty war cry became a hoarse gurgle.

Tiberius' eyes widened with his surprise as he saw the raider's body go limp. The raised arm fell to his side, the sword tumbling from his now loosened grasp. But it was the gleaming silver blade that jutted from the man's mouth like the proverbial silver tongue that was the true attention grabber.

The dragonoid shifted his gaze, seeking the cause for this abrupt end to this encounter. The explanation came as he laid eyes on the Guardian Overseer.

Yuliana stood over the raider's shoulder, the hilt of one of her twin sabers in hand. It seemed as if the raider had attempted a surprise attack, she had done the same. In a blink, she had circled behind the raider and plunged her blade through the back of his skull.

With a sharp yank, she withdrew the blade and permitted the man to crumple to the ground. A trickle of blood leaked from the corner of his gaping maw.

The dragonoid looked at the armoured female.

"You disobeyed."

"I beg your pardon, my lord," the Guardian Overseer fell to her knees, "But I could not allow such a pathetic creature to raise a hand against you."

His gaze lingered for a time, but then Tiberius turned away. His focus returned to the inert body bodies that decorated the ground around them.

Yuliana remained in her kneeling position, her head bowed in veneration.

The longer the silence persisted the more it unnerved the Guardian Overseer and she was left to wonder as to what thoughts were currently occupying his mind.

Was he thinking of punishing her?

For what reason did the bodies of the vile humans hold such fascination?

The sounds of rattling armour could be heard, drawing closer by the moment.

Still, Tiberius remained unmoving.

From either end of the alleyway came two groups of eight armoured men. Rounding the corner the raiders greatly slowed their pace from a frenzied gallop to that of a casual stroll. As they strode into the alley, their collective gazes were affixed to the bodies of their recently slain compatriots.

Perhaps these raiders were combing the village looking for stray inhabitants. Or maybe the villager who fled had attracted their attention, without a doubt he would've spilled his guts to them in a chance for clemency.

Each scenario was just as probable as the other. But it didn't matter, these men had come and soon they would be joining their brethren in the dirt. That much Yuliana was certain of.

Still kneeling, Yuliana eyed the men approaching from behind her master before turning her head and examining the second group. She looked over their faces, examining the variety of expressions they showcased.

Some wore looks of shock with eyes wide and slackened jaws. Others showed more anger than fear with a narrowed gaze, flared nostrils, and clenched jaws. Yet beneath these veneers, they all had the same fear.

Like musk, it seeped from every pore and clung to them.

As the humans drew closer still, Yuliana's instincts urged her to action. To rise and protect her dragonoid master. Yet she did not. She had already been chastised for disobedience and had no wish for punishment beyond a simple chiding.

Still, action must be taken.

"Lord Tiberius," the female Guardian spoke in a gentle tone, "More of the vermin approach. What would you like done with them?"

The wolven helmeted head of her master remained inclined as he continued to stare at the corpses.

Gradually, he lifted his head as if only just now taking notice of the new arrivals. His helmet moved in a slow arc flowing from one group to the other.

She heard the creak of his gauntlet as he tightened his grip upon the longsword's hilt.

"My lord, I await your commands."

Having finished his survey, the dragonoid turned again. This time his gaze fell upon her and he gave her an answer.

"Kill them all."

At the sound of his words, Yuliana could not help but shudder.

Throughout her tenure as the Guardian Overseer, she had heard the dragonoid speak in a variety of ways. From the deep and commanding timber with which he used as he announced his plans to the other Supreme Beings when gathered in the Throne Room. To the lighter, more exuberant way he spoke when something had caught his interest. Or the softer, more compassionate tones he'd shared in words of comfort. Such as on that first night in this world, when he had taken her aside and assured her that she had not failed him.

However, the way he spoke now was entirely different from anything she had heard before.

It carried a chilling and dispassionate edge, devoid of any emotion. Yet, there was a terrible resonance that seemed to echo within her ears. It bore a finality that signaled the irrevocable weight of his judgment.

Forcing these feelings aside, Yuliana acknowledged her master's command.

"By your will, it shall be done."

In silence, the dragonoid strode past the kneeling Guardian and made his way toward the raiders.

Rising, Yuliana watched as her master marched forward with slow purposeful steps. He carried his longsword in hand, the blade pointing out and away from his opponents.

Perhaps the men thought their numbers would be enough to provide them with the advantage.

Their assumption was gravely mistaken.

As the first raider rushed forward, his strike was parried with ease, and in the blink of an eye, he was disarmed by the dragonoid's reposte. The man let out a bloodcurdling scream and fell to his knees. His wide eyes stared down at his outstretched arms – both had been severed at the elbows and now gushed blood from the stumps.

The next assailant met a swift and decisive end, cleaved from head to groin in a single powerful swing.

A pair of them thrust out their spears, aiming to impale the silver-clad attacker. Their aim proved true and their sharpened points made contact with the target. Unfortunately, the attack was ineffectual as the spear tips were met only with the rigid metal of his armour. But that was to be the least of the worries as soon thereafter the pair found their heads being liberated from their bodies with a swing of their foe's iridescent blade.

As the two spearmen fell the dragonoid stepped over their bodies. Yet another raider tried to engage him in battle. This man showcased more skill than those previous. This raider displayed adept footwork and expertly utilized various stances and techniques. Nevertheless, even then he was little more than a moment's distraction. In the midst of an attack, the raider found himself seized by the neck. His mind reeled at this as he intuitively began to retrace his movements. But before he could truly comprehend the how, he was aware of the tightening pressure on his throat. As the pain grew, he yelled out until the hand that held him suddenly pulled away. The man's cry became a warbling, choking sound, his hands impulsively went to his throat. Liquid red gushed from the torn section of flesh while the man futilely tried to stem the bleeding. He soon lost consciousness and collapsed before joining his brothers.

Looking on, Yuliana felt a sense of admiration for her master as he carried out these grisly deeds. Watching him move with fluidity and grace, she would've compared him to a dancer but with the self-control and lethality of an assassin.

Seeing this did serve to assure the Guardian that her liege was not in any danger amongst these humans. As he dealt with the remaining few armoured fools, she turned her focus to the remaining group of humans.

As Yuliana began to approach the men drew themselves closer together and raised their weapons. Yet none dared to advance for witnessing one of the strangers so effortlessly slaughtering their fellow had done much to fill them with terror.

With every step, the fear mounted within the raiders until they subconsciously began to retreat at a matching pace.

This, however, was something that Yuliana could not abide by. After all, her master had issued his commands and she would see them done as her purpose demanded.

Bringing her hands to her waist and grasping the hilts of her twin sabers, she drew the gleaming blades from their sheaths in a crisscross motion. With the dual sabers in hand, the Guardian Overseer adopted a battle stance. There was a crack like thunder as she pushed off from the earth, launching herself at the mass of fearful men.

Invading the unit's space, Yuliana almost appeared to dance as she evaded their attacks with effortless grace. Like a serpent, she struck with lightning-quick lunges before fading back.

One by one the raiders began to fall before her blades.

In an attempt to evade one man stumbled backward, his back coming into contact with the stone wall of a house. Seeing this Yuliana acted, placing the tips of her blades on either side of the man's neck. Effectively pinning the man in place.

He squinted as the sunlight glinted off the blades to his eyes. The swords were held with blades overlapping making them appear more like a massive pair of shears. Trapped, the man begged but his words fell upon deaf ears.

When the swords were drawn apart the deed was done.

As their party's numbers dwindled, the final pair of men could no longer contain their terror. Relinquishing their weapons the men and abandoning their comrades turned to flee certain death.

The Guardian turned, watching as the two men fled and grinned behind her helmet.

"[Swarm of Serpents]."

A sudden flash of light erupted from the ground beneath the fleeing raiders, causing the two to freeze in their tracks. As the earth beneath their feet began to shift and sway, they reluctantly inclined their heads to see what was happening.

Gone was the well-trodden earthen street and in its place was a writhing mass of snakes. The serpents undulated and slithered amongst themselves, filling the air with an angry, rasping hiss. From the squirming swarm, thick tendrils shot forth, swiftly wrapping around the men's forearms, binding them in place.

The tendrils tightened their hold, pulling the raiders to their knees amid the serpents.

Several large and muscular constrictors extricated themselves from their slithering kin. It wasn't long before the pythons had engulfed the two men with their heavy coils. The pair screamed as the constrictors showcased just why they were called so.

The pressure the oversized snakes exerted grew at a steady pace and soon the steel of their cuirasses started to groan. As the metal began to buckle, closing it around them the men's movements grew frantic. With an odd level of intelligence, the smaller serpents struck, aiming for the areas of the body that lacked protection.

White-hot pain erupted as numerous tiny fangs pierced through cloth and into the pliable flesh beneath. Like liquid fire, the venom seared their veins as it coursed throughout their bodies.

The venom's effect became most immediate at the site of the initial bite. There the flesh turned black as it began to rot and putrify. As the black poison spread, it created a spiderweb-like mosaic across their skins. Their complexions grew pale before transforming into a sickening yellow. What had been guttural screams had changed to wheezing gasps. Their tongues and throats swelled to obscene proportions while saliva was churned up to a bubbly froth. Tears of blood streaked down their cheeks from the ruptured blood vessels of their eyes.

Then with a final gasp, the raiders succumbed to a combination of the toxin and the incredible pressure being applied to them.

With the two men now deceased, the purpose of the spell had been fulfilled. The mass of snakes dissolved, their bodies breaking down into ash that dissipated in the wind.

Now as Yuliana stood amongst the dead raiders, she was pleased as she surveyed her work. After all, the world would not miss these impudent creatures. Or any other that would choose to stand against the will of her master.

Her only regret in the matter was that their ends had come all too quickly for her tastes. Those who were foolish enough to stand against Lord of Týrnaust deserved to suffer.

It was in the silence that followed the massacre that the Guardian Overseer was left to wonder, where had the dragonoid gone?

Her questing eyes scanned the opposite end of the alley, the last place she had seen him. Only the messy remnants of Tiberius' would-be opponents could be found.

o – o – o – o

Pushing off the door, Liam made his way cautiously to the nearest window. Edging his way along the wall, the man slowly peeked his head out.

Through the hazy glass of the window, he could see the street and the surrounding houses. His brown eyes scanned up one side of the street and down the other. The world outside seemed oddly serene despite the invasion currently underway. But at least for now, the pathway to escape seemed clear of any of the marauders.

At least for the time being, anyway.

Swallowing his fear, Liam left the window, turning back to face his family.

"We can't stay here," he spoke in a low, almost whisper, "We're gonna have to take a chance and flee the village."

Enri felt her mother take hold of her hand in a vice-like grip and the teen squeezed her hand with an equally firm hold. Both drew upon the comfort that the simple gesture could provide.

"It's too dangerous!" Sofina's voice was perilously high, "We can't! What if they see us?! What if they catch us? They'll…"

Stepping forward and cupping his wife's cheeks in his calloused hands, Liam met her gaze. She looked at him with fresh tears in her eyes as her imagination was rampant with the terror that lay behind the threshold.

Seeing her anguish, his hands slid to her shoulders before he pulled Sofina into a tight embrace.

"We have to take that chance."

As much as the family wished not to hear the terrifying truth didn't make it any less true.

The fact remained the longer they stayed the greater the peril in which they place themselves. With the invaders combing through the village, it was only a matter of time before they would be discovered.

However, as the embers of courage started to glow within the Emmot family. They were just as quickly snuffed out.

Something heavy slammed into the door.

At the impact, Liam whirled around to face whatever would come next. Instinctively, he placed himself between the potential threat and his family. His were extended as if to form a protective barricade around his loved ones.

Behind her husband, Sofina hugged her daughters all the tighter to herself. This time Enri had no objections to the forcefulness of the embrace. While Nemu, unable to bear the weight of her emotions, began to cry again as she tried to hide her face in her mother's gown. In response, her mother could only hold her that much closer as she tried to soothe her youngest child.

Another blow was directed at the door, stronger than the last.

The home's occupants could hear the wood creak under the strain but it managed to hold firm. Yet for how long it would hold out was something they could only guess.

As the door was struck again, Liam considered taking his family to the back room and trying to escape through the window.

But before he put his plan into motion and he could usher them from the room, another collision rattled the house. This time the force of the strike was too powerful for the door to withstand. With a loud crack, the wooden barricade ultimately gave out, being flung open with such force that it slammed into the wall behind it with a resounding thud. An imprint from the handle was probably left behind in the process.

So it was, the last measure of protection for the terrified family was stripped away.

The figure of a man stepped into the now open entryway, he was silhouetted against the brighter light of the outside.

Once their eyes had adjusted, the Emmot family was better able to see the intruder.

He stood average in height with an unremarkable face, partially visible through the narrow opening of his helmet. From what was seen, the man wore a pair of dark blue trousers with a lengthy dark green shirt that fell to his mid-thigh. Overtop this, he had donned a surcoat of matching blue with white trim along its edges. Oddly, he had affixed the pieces of his armour above his ensemble.

It was a strange collection that didn't quite cover the entirety of his body. Upon his torso, he was protected by a well-polished breastplate. Likewise for his shoulders and forearms, while his legs were left bare of armour save for a set of steel shin guards and the partial armour affixed to his boots.

But what held the family's gaze was the one-handed sword he carried in his gloved right hand.

For a time the armoured raider stood unmoving in the doorway, barring their chance for escape.

Even with the brighter light on his back, a malevolent grin could be seen gracing his lips. He was enjoying watching the terror his presence was instilling within them.

With slow deliberate movements, he took several steps closer to the frightened family.

"Aaaahh…"

Liam released a war cry worthy of a berserker as he charged headlong at the armoured man.

From her place at her mother's side, Enri watched as her father barreled into the raider. The force of her father's foolhardy bull rush knocked the home invader clear off his feet and bore both men through the opened door.

The pair landed harshly on the ground outside.

The man's armour rattled and clanked loudly as the two immediately set to grappling with one another.

Lying on his back, the raider found himself pinned beneath the villager. Raising his arms, he attempted to fend off the enraged villager. In doing so he was surprised by the level of strength which the other possessed. Mustering his own, the raider pushed against his attacker, lifting man enough for the raider to bring his legs into play. Planting his foot in the villager's gut, the raider heaved and sent his attacker flopping onto his back. Freed, the raider rolled onto his stomach as he attempted to get back on his feet.

After the rough landing, Liam watched as the raider got to his feet and began to move toward his wayward sword. Seeing this, the father of two scrambled to find his footing. Rushing forward, he managed to close the distance before the raider had recovered.

Liam tackled the other man, dragging him back down to the dirt. He felt the pain of impact as he collided with the steel chest piece. But the pain was easy to put aside when it came to his family.

Moving quickly, he again pinned the raider under his weight before pulling back his arm to strike.

The armoured man was shocked when he was once more taken off his feet. He hadn't expected such resilience from a simple backwoods farmer. Then came the first attack as a fist impacted the side of his jaw. Jarred by the sudden blow, he was left in a momentary daze. While the rich metallic taste of blood washed over his tastebuds.

In retaliation, he twisted his head to the side allowing the next blow to collide with the side of his helmet. Then he struck out with an attack of his own, managing to land several quick jabs against the villager's abdomen. Yet this did not deter the crazed man; instead, he only pressed down with more weight before his rough hands sought out his throat.

A tinge of panic invaded the raider's mind as he felt those hands grip his neck. Frantically his hands reached out seeking anything with which to defend himself. In an instant of clarity, the raider recalled the dagger on his belt. Reaching down, he drew the smaller blade from its sheath, and with the weapon in hand, he wildly waved it about before his attacker.

Liam felt the bite of the steel blade as it slashed a painful trail across his forearm. Realizing the imminent danger, the enraged father released his hold on the other's neck and now grasped for the dagger-wielding hand.

Fortunately, he was able to grab the man's wrist before he could attempt to stab him. As he wrestled for control of the weapon, Liam turned his head, his gaze falling on the three women standing in the doorway.

"Hurry! Get away from…"

His words ended there. For in the frenzy of the clash, he had been so distracted that he had missed the shouts and the clanking of armour.

The pain was immediate as a boot-clad foot struck Liam in the ribs. The power of the kick was enough to send him rolling several times over.

"LIAM!" his wife's cry echoed in his ears.

When he had stopped rolling, Liam lay on his back, his arms instinctively hugging his injured chest. Breath did not return to him directly, for each gasp of air brought about a new wave of pain and a terrible cough.

The three Emmot women all felt the urge to rush to his side. Yet they could not bring themselves to do so in the face of his assailants. All they could do was stand by the wayside and look on as the raiders doled out their punishment.

The original raider rose from the dirt, wiping a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of a gloved hand. Standing over his attacker, he spit at him before taking several short strides and retrieving his sword and dagger. As he turned his anger was engraved deeply into his features.

"Damn you!" the armoured man growled.

The raider returned to stand over the downed villager before he drew back his leg and unleashed a ferocious kick.

The heavy made contact with Liam's side and in doing so, he thought he heard something crack. His already difficult breathing became more so. Without thinking, Liam rolled onto his side and curled himself into a ball as he tried to shield himself.

The raider raised his boot for a second time but it was not to deliver another kick. This time he brought down his foot upon the man in a powerful stomp. Again and again, he did this. His target only changed when he noticed the outstretched arm. So it was that the heel of his boot came down on the man's hand. A spiteful smile spread across the raider's face as he listened to the howl of pain while grinding the fleshy appendage beneath his boot.

Removing his foot, the raider turned to his companions.

"Pick him up."

At his words, two of the raiders stepped forwards before hooking their arms under those of the barely conscious villager they hoisted him to his feet. With their human cargo, the three raiders began to approach the house.

At their approach, Sofina guided her daughters back through the door and back into the house. Unfortunately, there would be no safety as the trio of invaders followed.

Their boot steps on the wooden floor echoed in the silence of the house. The leader of the little group was the first to enter the abode. He was shadowed by the two raiders who carried the family's patriarch. The remaining pair of armoured men remained outside and took their places on either side of the door.

While the leader surveyed the interior, his subordinates took up a position in the little kitchen. Only their hold on Liam was all that kept him aloft. Occasionally, the head raider would pause and act as though he was interested in something before moving along.

Then satisfied he turned and made his way across the room to his prisoner. The smile returned to his lips as he whirled about and planted a balled fist into the prisoner's stomach.

This unprovoked attack roused an outcry from the three female onlookers. This spurred the raider to repeat his attack, several times over as he bathed in their cries. Any noise from the prisoner resulted in him receiving a backhanded slap from his gloved fist.

Sofina and her eldest daughter felt utterly helpless as they could do nothing but look on in utter horror. While little Nemu buried her face in her mother's gown as she cried. Something made Sofina made certain of. For if this was to be the last memories of her father, Nemu did not need to see the how of it.

Only when Liam had stopped reacting, having been reduced to a wheezing mess as he struggled to catch his breath, did the raider decide to cease to inflict his torture.

Instead, the vile individual turned away, shifting his focus to the captive women.

Seeing this through his swollen eyelids, his instinct to protect his family stirred, and mustering what remained of his strength Liam tried to act. He groaned and coughed, spitting up blood as he tried to move.

The raiders holding him merely gazed down at him with impassive disdain.

"Sssshhtaaay ahwwaay froom vheeem."

It was unfortunate that Liam's attempt at stopping the other was marred by slurred speech.

However, it did succeed in gaining the lead raider's attention. He paused allowing the moment to linger before turning back.

As the armoured man stood over him, Liam did his best to brace for another strike. But in his weakened state, it came like a hammer blow. His vision grew hazy and his jaw radiated with new pain. Yet the possibility of a broken jaw was a price worth paying if it meant buying another moment of safety for his family.

Though the raider was saying something Liam was only partially aware of it. It was only by luck that he was even managing to stay conscious.

The raider reached to his belt and drew the same dagger he had brandished in their earlier struggle.

In a show of his skill, he performed a quick and flashy flourish with the weapon before he held it aloft. Then in a deft motion, the raider spun the blade one more time and plunged the dagger into Liam's belly to the hilt.

In an instant, the world around Enri seemed to fall away.

Between the horrid gurgling coughing of her father and the heart-wrenching cry of her mother, there was nothing else.

In this moment of desolation, Sofina could no longer stand back and watch. To the shock of her children, she wrenched herself free of their hold in her attempt to rush to his side. She had almost reached him when she was blindsided by a sudden strike from the knife-wielding man.

Dazed by the blow, Sofina lost her footing and was sent careening toward the floor. Recovering from the blitz attack, she managed to prop herself up and stare wide-eyed up at her husband as fresh tears streamed down her cheeks.

However, the mother of two wasn't allowed to do so for long.

Striding forward her attacker bent down and seized her by the upper portion of the arm and yanked her roughly to her feet.

Looking on, Enri tightened her hold on her younger sister before retreating with her to the far side of the room. Only when her back was met with the hard surface of the wall did she pause. Unable to go any further the teen slid to the ground, her tight grip dragging Nemu down alongside her.

From her new position, the teen watched as the raider twisted her mother's arm as he spun her around, and shoved her against the old dining table. Pinning her between the table and himself, the man reached up and took hold of a fistful of her blonde hair. As he pulled the older woman's head back, this caused her to inadvertently thrust out her chest. This action was met with the raider's assessing gaze. He looked over Sofina's body for a moment before his dark eyes shifted to the other two females in the room.

Enri couldn't suppress the shudder as she felt his eyes upon her. The man's ill intentions for them were made all the more evident by the cruel smirk he wore. But more telling was the lustful gaze in which he held the pair. The longer he stared at them, the ever-deepening sense of dread that settled itself in the pit of her stomach.

She felt the urge to retch when she the slow draw of his tongue across his pale lips.

Turning away, the raider again looked at the sobbing mother.

Raising his hand, a hand that still held the blood-coated dagger, he gently ran the blade along the woman's cheek. He pressed the flat of the blade against the skin, smearing the scarlet blood of her husband on her flesh as the cold steel was dragged. Reaching her jaw, he turned the dagger so the razor-like edge was ever so gently touching her flesh. Carefully, he traced down her neck to her clavicle, and from there he drew the weapon across her chest.

The raider rotated his wrist, positioning the knife vertically.

Then he slid the blade downwards under the top of her gown, allowing the woman to feel its cool touch as it slipped between her breasts.

Sofina stared at the sneering raider and though every fiber of her being wished to strike him. She dared not move for fear of the sharpened blade so perilously close to her flesh.

The dagger remained in its makeshift sheath for what seemed to be an eternity.

Unexpectedly the raider drew back his arm in a swift motion, bringing the blade to press against the cloth of her garb. The knife's refined edge effortlessly cut through the flimsy material.

Sofina cried out in shock as the cloth of her shirt was cut from her neck to her belly, leaving her bountiful breasts bare to the world. Impulsively her arms moved in an attempt to shield herself from prying eyes and maintain her decency.

This only served to earn her a heavy backhanded slap from the armoured individual.

The blow to the side of her face caused her head to ricochet to the side, almost making her topple onto the tabletop. As throbbing pain radiated across her cheek and the taste of blood came from a cut on her lip, she still kept her arms clamped firmly over her chest.

Displeased by this the raider took hold of her forearm, forcefully pulling her arm away from her bosom and jerking her closer to himself.

"Don't do that!" the man hissed in a low husky tone, "I desire to see what gifts you have to offer us. Why a filthy heathen such as yourself should feel privileged for having the honour to receive our divine touch."

The raider's voice lifted, taking on a rather pious character.

"After all, the scriptures do say to bring forth the divine touch to all unbelievers."

The leader's words earned him several deep chuckles from his previously stoic subordinates.

Once more a twisted smile lifted the corners of his mouth as he took great delight in seeing the reactions of his hostages.

Maintaining his hold on Sofina's forearm, the raider sheathed his dagger, and with his now free hand, he reached up and with the aid of his teeth removed the rough leather glove he wore. He allowed the glove to fall from his mouth as he reached out and indulged in satisfying his own pleasures.

As she felt the rough and heated grasp of another upon her bare flesh, Sofina wept openly.

Enri turned away from the scene before her and made sure that the sight was also hidden from her sister's eyes. Squeezing her eyes shut, the teen could only pray for a miracle to save them.

There came a thump, audible even above the cries of her mother and sister, and the door to the house began to move. The hinges creaked as the door slid open slowly to reveal another armoured man standing on the threshold.

This did not go unnoticed by the leader as in his frustration at the interruption he had ceased his molestation.

"What do you want?!" he barked at the other subordinate, "You know better than to interrupt me as I work."

The other raider remained motionless.

"Speak you imbecilic peon!" the leader's aggravation grew at being seemingly ignored, "Or I'll have you whipped and see that you forfeit your portion of the spoils!"

The raider again did not answer save for a slow exhale. Then he seemed to sway on his feet for a brief moment before collapsing to his knees and falling face down on the wooden floor.

The sight of this shocked his fellows as the leader stepped away from the woman and moved closer to the fallen raider. His slow movements showcased his confusion and caution.

Eyes scanned over the body taking in the most obvious of injuries.

The steel plate of his cuirass had been torn asunder. The metal's ragged and bent edges flared outwards as if ripped open. Beneath the no longer functioning armour, the mutilated flesh and bone of the man's back could be seen.

"By the gods!" the lead raider gasped, "Wha…"

His words were silenced by the tall shadow that darkened the doorstep.

At its sudden appearance, the man performed a startled jump as he quickly began to backpedal.

At first, Enri believed it to be another of the marauders. Or perhaps something worse given the wounds sported by the dead raider.

Yet as the figure strode from the outside into the house's interior, the teenage girl was afforded a better view of the new arrival. In doing so the details became clear to her view and it was more obvious they were not one of these invaders.

Recognition flashed across Enri's face at the sight of the adventurer who had visited the village earlier in the day.

It's him!

Her heart yearned to call out to him, to plead for his help, but fear held her voice captive as she beheld the stranger before her.

The once immaculate silver armor he wore now bore the gruesome marks of fresh crimson splatters, staining its noble appearance. The serene wolven face of his helmet, etched in her memory, had twisted into a malevolent snarl, the shadows casting an eerie veil over the scarlet stains. The wolf's visage exuded a hauntingly feral and sinister aura, giving the impression that it had just emerged from a recent, savage kill.

However, what sent shivers down her spine were his eyes – those glowing red jewels that burned with an intense and scorching light. They seemed to pierce through the room's occupants, radiating an unsettling power.

In her mind, she struggled to reconcile this figure with the same person she and her sister had conversed with before. The one who had greeted them with warm cordiality. This transformation was inexplicable, and the stark contrast between the two versions of the man left her utterly bewildered and frightened.

Enri refused to believe that this could be the same person.

In her eyes, it seemed as if a wicked beast had disguised itself in the armor, using it as a mere facade before unleashing a horrifying massacre. And now, that very same beast was on the prowl, hunting for its next hapless victim. The transformation was so chilling and surreal that she couldn't shake the feeling of impending danger lurking in the shadows.

Seeing this, an involuntary shiver ran down her spine, a creeping tinge of horror washing over her.

"Who the hells are you?!" the leader snapped, his voice tinged with fear.

The stranger remained silent, his helmet swiveling as his gaze swept across the room. Though he wasn't terribly larger than the three armoured men, he loomed over them like a veritable giant. When he began to move, his every step echoed like thunder in the collective silence.

"Get him!"

At their leader's shouted command, the other two raiders were prompted into action. The pair released their hold on the dying prisoner, allowing him to slip free and collapse to the floor with a heavy thud.

Advancing on the stranger the pair drew their weapons while their leader stayed well away.

To any observer, what followed would have seemed to play out in a matter of mere moments.

The raider on the left rushed forward to attack first. His sword was held to the side as he performed a low slashing attack, meant to strike at the side of the knee where the armour separated. To his astonishment, the stranger did not attempt to avoid or defend himself in any meaningful way.

The blade made contact with the other's leg sending a reverberation through the sword blade that made the metal sing.

Then as the raider stood bewildered, the adventurer grabbed him by the neck. The armoured man gasped and spasmed before he was hoisted off his feet. He struggled, but it was only for a short time before his eyes rolled back into his head and his body went still.

Before the stunned second raider could attack, he was rushed by the silver-clad warrior. The collision forced him backward and against the wall. Pinned there, he could only stare at the blood-smeared metallic face of the wolf. As its blazing eyes bore into him, there came a sudden and intense pain in his abdomen. Slowly the warrior backed away from him and the raider's head inclined as his eyes traveled to his stomach. There he beheld the hilt of a sword protruding from his armoured torso.

Standing back, Tiberius watched as the man gripped the handle of his sword in a feeble attempt to remove the object on which he was impaled like an insect on display. The raider's grip faltered, and his movements slowed until he fell limp.

With the two minions dealt with, Tiberius now shifted his focus to their leader.

When this newcomer turned to look at him, the raider hastily backpedaled. Like a coward, he hurriedly strode to return to the older woman as she sat hunched over on the ground.

Reaching her side, he grappled briefly with the woman as she tried to free herself from his grip. However, with his fear driving him, the raider managed to overpower the woman as he hauled her to her feet. Wrapping his arm around her midsection the marauder pulled her tight to his chest. While with his other hand, he sought out the sheathed dagger.

Still, Sofina struggled against the raider.

With her left hand, she attempted to pry the armoured coward's vice-like grip from her. While with her right, she busied herself by reaching back to claw at the raider's face.

To avoid the woman's seeking hand, the raider leaned back, pulling his head away. Releasing his hold on her waist, his arm snaked its way up across her exposed breasts so his hand could take hold of her neck.

Sofina gagged as he tightened his grip but only when she felt the kiss of cold steel against her skin did she finally cease her struggle.

"Stay back!" the craven raider snapped, his eyes wide with fear, "Or I'll kill her!"

"Mommy!" Nemu gave voice to her anguish upon hearing the man's words before she buried her face again in her sister's clothing.

However, the threat of the woman's demise did not seem to carry weight with the silver-clad dragonoid. Instead, he continued to move, taking several steps closer.

In response, the raider pressed the knife tip to her neck. The sharpened blade dug into her flesh, piercing it with ease and drawing a droplet of blood.

As Sofina felt the biting sting of the dagger, she renewed her struggle to escape. For this, she only received a harsh grunt from the raider as he tightened his grip on her neck and pressed the knife all the harder.

When he heard the woman cry out, Tiberius stopped.

This action made the man smile as he discovered a means to gain the upper hand. Perhaps there was a way for him to get out of this situation.

"Now back away. I'll be taking this woman with me and I don't suggest you try to follow."

The dragonoid remained motionless.

"Did you not hear me?! I said I'll…"

Enri felt her breath hitch in her chest in surprise at what she saw.

The man foolishly brought his weapon away from her mother's neck to point it at the adventurer who blocked his path. Then like a streak of lightning, the adventurer's arm shot forth. His gauntlet-clad hand clamped down on the raider's forearm holding it in place.

With tremendous ease, Tiberius twisted the man's wrist causing him to cry out in agony and drop his dagger.

The shock of what had happened was featured clearly on the raider's face. While pain raced down the length of his arm where the other gripped him like an iron vice. So concerned was he with the situation that he released his hold on the hostage.

Finally, unrestrained Sofina paused only for a moment to return some modicum of modesty to herself before racing to the side of her gravelly injured husband.

The teenager's heart raced with elation at the sight of her mother being freed and once again at her father's side. Enri watched as her mother cradled her father's head in her lap and began to stroke his cheek. And though she yearned for nothing more than to join her mother in embracing her father.

Something inside her compelled her not to move and remain where she was. It was a quiet voice that told her that the danger had not yet passed.

Tearing her gaze away from her parents, Enri observed the two armoured figures occupying the center of the room.

Though she would never admit to it even until her final breath. Seeing this man who had taken such joy in tormenting her family. The man who had hurt her father and threatened them with unspeakable acts, now tasting that fear for himself. It filled Enri with a profound sense of satisfaction to see this. To know that justice would soon be visited upon him.

Gone was the man's bravado, replaced by cowardice. His smug, cruel words turned from gloating to nothing but pitiful sniveling.

"Please, I-I have money… I can make you wealthy. You'd like that, right?" he struggled to keep his voice level, "I beg of you to let me go."

Then came a sound akin to the breaking of a branch, this was followed by a bestial howl of anguish.

Released from the other's grasp, the raider crumpled to the ground. Resting on his knees, he supported his now ruined left arm. The vambrace worn upon his forearm was bent at an odd angle forcing the limb to follow suit.

Yet this was not the end of his punishment.

Enri watched as the adventurer extended his arms, placing a hand on either side of the man's helmeted head.

In the beginning, it seemed to be a move to remove the other's head covering. However, this was not so. The noise was faint, barely perceptible. But with their proximity, Enri could hear it, a low groaning resonance. It was the sound metal tended to make when it was placed under a great strain.

It was something she had come to recognize when she had made the mistake of standing atop a rather old bucket. The pail had creaked and groaned just before it collapsed in on itself sending her tumbling to the ground, earning herself a bruised knee and scraped elbow.

Understanding the meaning behind this sound the teenager looked to her younger sibling.

"Don't look, Nemu."

Enri held her sister close, doing her best to ensure that Nemu could see nothing of what was to follow while she pressed her hands over the girl's ears.

Tiberius stared down at the man kneeling before him as his hands gripped the sides of his helmet. Slowly he began to bring his hands together, applying deliberate pressure against the steel shell.

The dragonoid knew, from experience that his greater strength would allow him to end this man's existence. Yet he could not bring himself to allow it. Something about this particular raider had roused something darker within him. Perhaps it was the same instinct that drove him to intervene that spoke to him again. This man deserved to suffer for his despicable acts against these people. So it was that this impulse drove the dragonoid to exact his punishment.

The raider felt the confines of his helmet press against his head. It took a moment for him to reason out the cause for this. But as the gravity of the situation started to sink in his eyes grew as wide as saucers. With his good arm, the raider desperately reached up for the other's hands. He clawed at them frantically, his fingers seeking any point where they might find purchase to pry himself free.

Soon he could feel the helmet pressing prominently against his temples. The dull pressure was reminiscent of a growing headache.

"STOP!" he screamed, "PLEASE STOP!"

His desperation grew in his failure to dislodge himself, he began to flail his useless limb at his tormentor. The broken arm battered upon the silver armour and rewarded him with a new wave of intense pain each time.

The groan of distressed metal echoed in his ears and the feel of the helmet grew ever tighter. As the helmet closed in around him, the raider's face began to contort. Throughout it all, he continued to scream his pleas for mercy.

The steel shell compacted under the pressure and with it came a noise like the cracking of a nut. This was the sound of his cheekbones crumbling under the strain. The raider's dark eyes bulged so far that they looked to be threatening to pop out from their sockets. The whites of his eyes had begun to cloud over, turning a ruddy red as blood vessels ruptured.

Still, Tiberius continued to apply force.

Unable to see anymore, Enri closed her eyes, doing her best to ignore the terrified cries of the man. In the back of her mind, that inner voice told her how he deserved this. It was a continual chant that seemed to satisfy that darker impulse.

Daring to open her eyes, Enri looked beyond the scene to her parents on the opposite side of the room. Her mother was bent over her father, her hands pressed flat over her ears. Seeing that the teen felt a pang of jealousy, for in protecting her sister, she had inadvertently prevented herself from being able to do the same. Before she shut her eyes tight again.

By now the man's voice had lost any semblance of anything that a human could produce. These were sounds that only a terrified and wounded animal would make.

Then it came.

The groan of metal reached a crescendo. There was a sound like the splitting of a melon, a telltale wet squelch.

The silence that followed was more unnerving than any of the man's cries had been. Enri felt a shiver pass through herself and her sister. Tentatively her eyelids parted and she took in the scene.

The raider's body sagged, his previously thrashing limbs hung lifelessly at his sides, though he remained held in position by the bloodstained adventurer. When he released withdrew his hands and the corpse fell forward with a dull thud.

The man's head had been mangled.

Within the crushed shell of his helmet, the raider's head had been dramatically elongated. His features deformed as if the underlying structure of his skull had been replaced by a sack of stones. The flesh had become discoloured taking on the deep purple tones of a bruise. One of his eyes could not be seen for the socket had been crushed while its twin dangled free of the socket. His jaws were parted from between broken and missing teeth hung his obscenely swollen tongue, and a rivulet of blood streamed onto the floorboards.

It was a sight that Enri could hardly bear to look at for more than a few seconds. Her attention was thankfully drawn away from the corpse when the adventurer began to turn.

First, it was his head that swiveled to look in their direction. Those eyes still blazed with ruby light looked directly at the two girls.

Enri shuddered under their scrutiny. It may have been true that he had just saved them from those vile men. Yet after witnessing what he was capable of, she couldn't help but worry about their safety.

His heavy footsteps resonated throughout the room and as he stood over them, Enri could only stare up at the armoured figure.

"You're safe now."

Hearing the gentle tone with which he spoke was like a jolt to the teen and a shadow of disbelief settled over Enri. How could he have committed such acts of violence and yet speak as if nothing had happened?

However, this question was quickly brushed aside by more immediate concerns.

Nemu was quick to disentangle herself from her older sibling. The little girl's feet carried her across the room to the side of her parents.

Without a word to their saviour, Enri rose from her place on the floor and rushed past the adventurer. As she trailed after Nemu, she made sure to give the body of the raider a wide berth.

Reaching her family's side, the teen lowered herself to her knees and wrapped around her mother's shoulders before bringing her into a tight hug. It was an embrace that the older woman eagerly accepted. Pulling back slightly from her mother, Enri looked down at her father.

Liam lay on the floor, his head resting on his wife's lap and his blood-covered hands clutching at the wound in his stomach. His breathing was coming to him in slow and shallow wheezes. As he continued to lose blood, Liam's skin began to grow pale taking on the pallor of a corpse.

"Mom… Is Dad…" the teen couldn't bring herself to finish the question.

Nemu sobbed loudly holding on to her mother.

"Da…d…dy," the youngest child's words were heavily distorted by her crying.

Responding to their calls, Liam opened his eyes and stared up at the three members of his family. As if to try and put them at ease, he offered a weak half-smile.

From his place across the room, the dragonoid stood looking on. His eyes tracked the movements of the human teen and her sibling. He watched as the pair came together with what he assumed to be their parents. As the trio of women cried over the man on the floor, Tiberius surveyed him. Even to his unskilled eye, it was clear the man's wounds were grievous and it would only be a matter of time before his life ebbed away.

Feeling that his presence would be unwelcome during this time of sadness. The dragonoid strode with care toward the home's entrance. Momentarily he paused by the body of the raider impaled on the wall. Extending his hand, he grasped the hilt of Severance before drawing the longsword from the man's body. Without the blade to hold it in place, the body fell to the floor with a clatter.

Behind his helmet, Tiberius winced at the racket he had inadvertently caused. Then with the longsword in hand, he headed for the door.

"Wait," a nervous voice called out to him, "Please, wait."

Hearing the soft plea, Tiberius turned back, his eyes falling on the figure of the blonde teenager.

Seeing the adventurer prepare to depart, Enri rose to her feet before hastily making her way to him.

Her reason for approaching him was simple. She knew that was a common practice for adventurers to carry with them potions that would allow them to heal from injury. So there was a chance that he too would have one.

But would he be willing to part with something so valuable just to help some villager he had never met?

It didn't matter, she had to try if it would save her father.

"Please, sir. Help my father if you can," Enri's eyes shone with fresh tears, "I beg you."

For the longest of moments, the pair stood in silence. Then finally, an answer.

The silver armoured adventurer nodded to her and proceeded to follow her back inside. Striding the short distance to the kitchen, Tiberius stood over the family, his eyes again on the man on the floor.

He certainly doesn't look good. I guess I'd best get a read on him.

"[Life Essence]."

The spell invoked was a common one used by many within YGGDRASIL.

[Life Essence] was what was considered a utility spell. It was a spell that when cast would allow the invoker to visualize a target's health pool in the form of an aura. The more health points an individual had the larger and more vibrant the aura that would surround the target. While the less they possessed the duller and shallower, the aura would be until it disappeared entirely.

Many who engaged in PvP combat would make use of this spell to see their opponents hit points. However, this was not foolproof as there did exist a fair number of ways to counter this spell.

With the spell cast, the dragonoid blinked as it took effect.

Before him, each of the three females was surrounded large aura of vibrant green. While the girl's father was seemingly bereft of any such shine. No, that was quite right. Just above his skin, there was a faint outline that encompassed him and that glow was fading.

As he gazed down at the man, Tiberius mulled over the options.

His health pool is almost gone, I doubt he'll last much longer. I could try a health potion but I don't know if that would be enough. For that matter, a healing spell might not either. I mean, I haven't tested healing magic yet and who knows if it'll work the same in this world.

But if don't act soon… Then I'll pull out the stops and go for a high-tier spell.

The dragonoid moved several steps closer and outstretched his arm. He held his hand out with the palm facing the man on the floor.

As he'd done before the dragonoid focused his mind and delved inwards. The same as last time, the world around him grew dull and seemed to fade into the background. Save for himself and the man on the floor everything else around them was but a shadow of its former self.

"[Greater Heal]."

Enri's eyes widened in surprise when she heard the adventurer speak and his hand emitted a green light. This light shone over her father before enveloping him entirely.

She watched as his face, which was once contorted in pain, relaxed and returned to an expression of peace. For one terrifying moment, the girl believed that it was too late. But had it not been for the calm rhythmic movements of his chest those fears were laid to rest.

The swelling from the beatings that had affected him and the countless bruises that marred his skin diminished before disappearing. His complexion which previously had been so drained of colour was returned to a far healthier shade. To not just her astonishment, even the blood that had previously stained his clothing and hands vanished as if it was never there.

Sofina gasped at the sight before her, and hesitantly she reached out removing her husband's hands from his abdomen. There was no rip in the cloth of his shirt, this provoked the woman to grip the shirt and yank it upwards to reveal his stomach. The flesh of his abdomen had been miraculously mended and showcased only smooth, unblemished skin.

Liam groaned as he felt the incredible pain that had so relentlessly plagued him was changed into but a fleeting sensation of mild soreness. But then this too fled from him in a matter of mere moments.

His eyelids fluttered briefly before parting to reveal the soft brown of his eyes. He squinted under the light like a newborn and with bleary vision he stared up at the tear-streaked faces of the three Emmot women.

For a second or so, he was left in puzzlement as to why they were crying so. Yet in a flash, the memory came back to him.

His heart raced as he recalled the man who had invaded their home and the resulting struggle to protect his family. The beating he had received and then the glint of a blade followed by intense and stabbing pain.

"How?" his voice was raspy as he spoke through a parched throat.

With fresh tears of joy rolling down her cheeks, Sofina leaned down pressing her lips to the forehead of her husband. Twice she kissed him before pulling back to look him in the eyes.

"Shh," she cooed to him, "It's okay… we're okay… you're okay."

As he held his wife's gaze, Liam brought his hand up to cup her cheek. But as he opened his mouth to speak, he suddenly let out an exasperated oofas a heavy object was abruptly planted on his stomach.

The man shifted and gazed down at his youngest child as she draped herself over him.

"Nemu!" the girl's mother cried out.

However, neither she nor her husband made any move to dislodge the child from her position. Instead, each parent placed a calming hand upon the little girl's back as she cried into his shirt.

Tiberius looked on with interest as the healing spell took effect on the man and mended his wounds. When the magic had finished, the dragonoid watched as he and his family embraced each other.

As he watched this, Tiberius had to admit to feeling a tinge of embarrassment for this was a private moment, not intended for the prying eyes of outsiders.

Turning away, he made his way once again to the door. The sound of approaching footsteps gave him pause.

"Thank you."

Tiberius craned his neck around to see the elder daughter over his shoulder. Like her mother, she too had the same joyous tears trailing down her cheeks.

"Stay indoors and you'll be safe."

Stepping through the doorway, he was dimly aware of the further words of gratitude.

o – o – o – o

Yuliana strode through the village streets in her continuing search for her wayward master. As she approached an intersection in the path, she paused, and her jade-coloured eyes surveyed her surroundings.

The streets were littered with numerous bodies.

While some of these belonged to Carne's inhabitants, they had now been joined by the mangled corpses of fallen raiders.

A smirk graced her lips, while her master may have wandered off he was kind enough to leave behind a trail of breadcrumbs to follow.

As her eyes glided over the bodies strewn on the ground, Yuliana could not help to feel a sense of approval. These humans were but pathetic fools. They'd borne witness to her master's prowess and yet they had refused to acknowledge his obvious superiority. Instead, they rushed headlong against him, and in so doing they had proven themselves to be unworthy of existence.

Whether it was by the dragonoid's hand or her own, their just punishment had been merited out.

It was the undeniable law of nature that the weak yield to the strong and those that fought against the inevitable were doomed to fall. Knowing that beings like that existed in this world and that they dared to harbor such thoughts. The Guardian Overseer was filled with unfathomable rage.

It was just unfortunate that her master had already cleansed this area, leaving her with no direct outlet.

She continued moving at a steady pace through the deserted village streets. She stopped, a flitter of movement having caught her attention. From her position, Yuliana examined the area, wondering if perhaps it had been a trick of the eye.

Some fifty feet ahead, lying amongst the armour-clad bodies one was moving. A survivor. Somehow this particular individual had managed to elude detection and thus escaped her master's wrath. Now the man lay prone on the ground as he tried to crawl his way through the dirt streets.

How fortuitous the female Guardian thought as she set her sights on the crawling man.

The smile at play on her face was hidden by the beautiful effigy of her helmet's face mask. Yuliana began to approach, making no attempt at stealth. In fact, she went out of her way to make noise.

She kicked aside the bodies of raiders, their armour clanking loudly on contact with her own armoured boot. At the harsh racket, the man was visibly shaken as he froze on the spot. Drawing closer still, the Guardian Overseer moved closer to the buildings that lined the edge. Extending her arm, she held one of her swords parallel to the ground.

The tip of the gleaming blade made contact with the stone of the wall. The hardened metal had little trouble biting into the earth-born material, leaving a thin furrow in its wake. As it was dragged along the wall, the harsh sound of grinding stone and squealing metal resonated throughout.

Striding up to the armoured man on the ground, Yuliana halted for a moment. Then extended her leg and positioned her foot beneath him, she rolled the man over onto his back.

The raider recoiled at the sudden movement and he stared up at the figure looming over him. Shakily he reached up, pulling his helmet off with unsteady hands, and tossed it aside.

Yuliana looked him over.

He was fairly young, probably not long out of his adolescence. Overall he could be said to be attractive with youthful ruggedness and a boyish charm. At least, by human standards. But most fetching was the soft hazel of his eyes. Eyes that now gazed up at her, wide with terror.

"P-p-please…" the young man stuttered sounding on the verge of tears, "I b-beg you…"

He held his hands up before him as if to demonstrate he was not a threat.

Gracefully, Yuliana lowered herself down to kneel beside him.

"Shh," she crooned softly.

Reaching out, she gently laid a gloved finger against his lips. Even through the material of her glove, she could feel his lip quiver at the touch. Cupping his chin, she tilted his head back to hold his focus.

The youthful raider looked up at the beautifully sculpted face of the other's helmet. The jeweled lenses of the eyes appeared to emanate a soft glow. As he gazed upon those eyes, he could not help but feel drawn into them. The fear in which he was mired began to melt away as he felt himself falling into a deep state of relaxation.

Had the lad not continued to stare into the jeweled eyes of the other's helmet, he might have been aware of them pulling away. He might have seen the raising of their arm and the gleaming blade held therein.

But he did not.

Leisurely, Yuliana allowed the tip of her saber to trace over the young man's breastplate and came to a stop above his heart. With a steady downward movement, she pushed the blade point against the metallic carapace. There was a dull thud, then a crunch, and the sound of rending metal.

The steel cuirass gave way before the saber, offering no more resistance than a sheet of paper.

The youthful raider gasped audibly as the saber penetrated his flesh and yet he continued to remain impassive. He just lay there, head inclined and his eyes locked with those glowing jewels.

As the blade continued to move his body convulsed briefly before going still. His eyes fluttered as his head fell slackly to the side.

Seeing this, Yuliana leaned in close.

"There can be no mercy for those that would seek to harm the Supreme One," her voice was little more than a whisper.

Having watched the human expire by her hand had helped to abate some of the anger, she had felt. However, it had only managed to take away the edge. The thought that there was more fueled her fury again.

Extracting her weapon, Yuliana gave it a sour look of displeasure seeing the blood smeared across its blade.

With a small huff, she bent down and tore a piece from the raider's clothing. With the ragged cloth in hand, she proceeded to wipe clean the offending scarlet liquid. Once the sword's blade shone, the Guardian haphazardly tossed the soiled rag aside, allowing it to return to its owner.

With that bit of side business out of the way, she now turned her attention back to her original task. She resumed her stride along the village's dirt pathways.

As she approached the town square, she paused in the shadow of a small house. From here the Guardian Overseer observed the gathering before her.

Fear had spread throughout what remained of the invading force and so it was that they had chosen to regroup. Perhaps they hoped that the combination of numbers and the open environment would afford them an advantage.

She chuckled at this.

Fools. As if anything would save you from your rightful punishment.

Looking them over, she began to wonder just what would be the best way to dispatch these would-be opponents.

In all her time as the Guardian Overseer of Týrnaust, she had never been given the chance to do battle. So it was she had no experience with which to properly gauge her opponent's strength. Yet, even if she did, she was sure that these pitiful humans would hardly measure up.

She could easily just stride into the group and slaughter them with her swords alone. But that doing so was rather blasé and would not be a proper exercise of her abilities. After all, when would such an occasion next present itself?

"[Triplet Maximize Magic – Magic Missile]"

As the voice boomed across the village plaza, Yuliana's thoughts came to a screeching halt.

From the opposite side of the village came a volley of magically created projectiles. The bolts of magical energy sailed through the air with haste and inhuman precision toward their intended targets.

On impact, the energy contained within was released.

With a searing flash and a crack of thunder, the bolts detonated. In less than a second, the metal of their armour was superheated. The steel plates glowed brightly before melting away, flowing down their bodies like water. With the flimsy barriers gone, the magical missile continued to bore through the weaker flesh beneath, leaving behind nothing of their internals. Now only a charred borehole existed.

In sum total, sixteen soldiers both mounted and on foot met their ends.

The rest turned immediately with fearful expressions and marshaled their forces.

Feeling her anger surface again, Yuliana outstretched her hand.

"[Acid Splash]."

High above the armoured men, a mist of yellow-green coalesced from the atmosphere. As more globules began to amass they collided, growing ever heavier with the merger. Before long an orb of liquid began to take form and expanded as more droplets were pulled toward it. Larger and larger it stretched until it was easily ten feet across.

Having attained its apex size, the orb of strange liquid descended rapidly from the sky.

A few of those gathered below had taken notice of the looming shadow. Unfortunately, they did not take action until it was too late.

The orb wobbled as it tumbled earthwards and then on impact with the ground the bubble burst. The strange yellow-green liquid splattered and rained down on all those close to it.

Had this unexpected shower been simple rainwater there would have been no need to worry. However, this was no natural act of the world but a concentration of acid.

The acid wasted no time in beginning its work. Soon small wisps of smoke began to rise from anything the caustic liquid had touched. The human raiders quickly learned that their armour offered no protection against this type of attack. The metal plates bubbled and ran like melted candle wax. After which it wasn't long before the acid reached the tender flesh beneath.

As their skin sizzled and liquefied by the powerful corrosive, the raiders cried out.

Most of the men dropped to their knees in pain. Others thrashed about in a wild frenzy as they attempted to rid themselves of the dissolving armour. As the acid ate through cloth and epidermis alike, blood ran freely from the numerous opened sores that pockmarked their bodies.

The most unfortunate was closest to the shower of acid.

One man had been utterly drenched by the bursting of the acid bubble. So thoroughly covered, the majority of his body had quickly melted into a putrid sludge. Another raider had received a heavy splash to the face, he clawed at his burning flesh. The meat came away like wads of wet paper as even the bone bubbled and crumbled at the slightest touch.

It was into this chaos that the dragonoid strode, his longsword in hand and at the ready. With every swing of Severance, another armoured man fell before him. Unable to defend against their attacker the raiders were left with very few options. The most prominent was to die.

Their numbers declined at a steady pace until none remained and Tiberius stood alone amongst the dead.

The dragonoid turned in a small circle while from behind the ruby lenses of his helmet, he observed the consequences of the slaughter.

I killed them… I killed them all. And still, I feel nothing about these men. No, that's not true. I do feel something…

Tiberius lifted his arm, holding the longsword perpendicular to himself with the tip of the blade pointed toward the sky. The dark colouration of the blade made the blood hard to see. It was only when the crimson essence flowed over the glowing fuller was made visible.

He watched it intently as a large droplet formed and oozed down the longsword. Slowly it came until it reached the crossguard before being diverted and falling to the already blood-soaked earth.

I feel angry. Angry that these men attacked these people. But more than that, it's that it ended too quickly. The dragonoid again eyed the body-strewn grounds. They deserved far worse than this. I want more… I feel it like a hunger burning within me.

The soft clink of metal brought Tiberius back to the moment. Pivoting on his heel, the dragonoid turned rapidly, raising his weapon as he readied to defend himself.

The Guardian Overseer halted immediately upon facing her master's blade.

"Yuliana," the dragonoid rumbled upon recognizing his companion.

"I am sorry I did not announce my approach, my lord," the female Guardian bowed deeply, "I have seen to your commands. None of the offending humans remain within the village nor have any fled."

"I see. And you are certain of this?"

"I am, Lord Tiberius."

"Very good, come with me."

Turning the armour-clad pair strode across the village square, following the same path they had used previously to arrive at a particular house.

The dragonoid knocked several times on the oaken door.

"Chief Wyllam, are you in there?"

A minute passed, and then another ticked by before sounds of life could be heard within. There were a number of heavy thumps as things shifted about behind the closed door. Then slowly the door creaked open and through a slim crack appeared the face of an older man.

"W-what… It's you!"

Recognition replaced fear as the man's eyes took in the sight before him. But that fear soon returned. Opening the door further, the villager peered out, scanning the surroundings for any sign of the marauders.

"Those raiders! They…"

"The invaders have been dealt with," Tiberius interrupted, "The village is quite safe now."

Chief Wyllam regarded the two adventurers at his door with a somewhat skeptical look. However, after a moment his optimism won out and he emerged from behind the wooden barrier. Stepping into the outside world the chief was able to better see the pair. His eyes were instantly drawn to the splatters of crimson that marred their metallic coverings, it was most off-putting to the older gentleman.

When the attack had come, Wyllam and his wife had barricaded their front door as best they could before taking shelter in the back bedroom. Even there the older couple had taken precautions and gone about pushing the dresser against the door. They had huddled in the corner, listening to the screams and shouts that filtered through the walls of their home.

Throughout it all, he and his wife could only wonder when would it be their turn. When would they hear the banging on the door?

More cries and the married couple shivered. But then minutes ago came the unnerving silence.

For a time, he had pondered if perhaps the raiders had moved on. Had the raiders somehow skipped over their home? By fortune's grace, had they been spared while so many of their fellows had not been?

Then came the knock on the door.

To the frightened couple, it had resounded through their home like thunder. The thought that the invaders had come for them, at last, did creep into their minds and hearts. But there was a voice asking for Wyllam; surely the marauding raiders would not have been so courteous.

Curiosity prompted the man to leave his wife and their shared corner. Though not with some reassurance. He had made his way through the house and to the door.

So it was that Chief Wyllam had come to regard the duo of adventurers before him. However, his focus didn't remain with them for long as he caught sight of the devastation that lay behind the pair.

Armoured bodies were strewn about as some child would haphazardly scatter their toys. And much like a child would with their toys none of these men appeared to be unscathed.

The man's eyes scanned across the small village center. Never in all his life had seen such carnage visited upon a person. He felt a sudden wave of nausea wash over him. Hastily he turned away as he battled his stomach in hopes of keeping its morning contents on the inside.

"Are you okay, Chief Wyllam?"

"Yes, yes," the older man waved his hand and drew a deep breath, "I'll be fine. It's just seeing this… It's rather unsettling."

The dragonoid turned, once more gazing across the bodies of the fallen raiders.

Chief Wyllam, managing to regain his composure, lifted his eyes to the sky and sighed. "There is much that will need tending to," he hesitated, "The least of which will be disposing of the…"

"I shall see that it is taken care of."

The older villager turned, surprise on his face.

"You will?"

Tiberius nodded, "Yes, much of the… mess is mine. It is only right that I see to it."

"Very well, I'll tend to the village and allow you to handle this," he gestured to the bloody disarray beyond.

The older villager turned away and back to his home. He knocked softly and waited for a moment before the door opened and he was greeted with the face of his wife, her relief most evident. Through the small gap, the married couple shared several minutes speaking before they exchanged smiles, and the door was again shut tight.

Chief Wyllam briefly nodded to the armoured pair then turned and strode away, into the village.

As he surveyed the damage, the dragonoid realized the scope of what he had gotten himself into.

Tiberius sighed.

Now, how am I supposed to clean this mess? I should really think things through before I open my mouth.

It was the thought of this mess and how to clean it that an idea came to him. By chance, he already knew how it might be cleaned.

"[Message]."

"[My lord,]" the warm tones of the Orrery Keeper's greeting echoed within the dragonoid's head, "[I have been monitoring your situation with the scrying crystal. Are you in need of assistance?]"

"In a manner of speaking, yes."

"[Shall I alert sirs Aeon and Koraboros?]"

Tiberius could feel the sense of alarm in the typically stoic Deva's voice.

"No, Yuliana and I are quite alright. I would like you to open a [Gate] and send the Grand Arena's custodians through to my location."

"[Are you sure that is all you require, my liege?]"

"Yes."

"[Then it shall be done.]"

"Thank you, Nido."

Though he received no verbal response, the dragonoid could envision Nido performing his customary bow in reaction to his master's gratitude.

With the telepathic conversation ended, Tiberius moved to join the Guardian Overseer to await the arrival of the golems. As he stood beside his female companion, he took in the sight of her armoured form.

"It seems we've both gotten a bit messy with this business," his words were accompanied by a small chuckle.

Although Tiberius had meant his words to be in jest. The attempt at humour had been lost on the female Guardian.

Hearing this, Yuliana immediately bowed deeply, "I am sorry, Lord Tiberius. I shall rectify this directly."

Before the dragonoid could say a word otherwise, Yuliana set to work. She stepped closer, raised her hand, and recited a hasty incantation.

As the spell activated, the pair were shrouded in a subtle aura, and for a moment Tiberius thought he could smell mint. But it left as quickly as it had come as the aura faded. The splotches of crimson that marred their armour evaporated into the ether leaving the metal spotless with a well-polished sheen.

"Oh, uh, thank you, Yuliana."

"It was truly nothing, my lord. For you to be seen in such a state would be unforgivable. Besides, I would never hear the end of it from Mathias."

The dragonoid was surprised and felt himself smile at her attempted humour.

"[Lord Tiberius]."

"Yes, Nido?"

"[The golems will be arriving shortly]."

"Understood. Thank you."

No sooner had the dragonoid answered than the air several yards away shimmered. A rippling effect distorted the view before an oval of darkness was made manifest.

The [Gate] was roughly ten feet tall and impossibly black. A veritable black hole, it seemed to swallow all light around it. The portal's edge was ringed in violet flame.

Striding out from this hovering well of black ink was the seven-foot-tall frame of the stone golem. After the first came another and another until all six marched forth in single file. In their lockstep movements, they arranged themselves and waited for their master's command.

Tiberius looked over the unmoving stone figures.

Okay, I know that they can follow orders and clean up the arena. But this isn't the arena. So I don't know if they'll be able to clean this village. But it can't be that different, right?

"Golems," the dragonoid strode forward and addressed the arena's custodians, "You are to seek out the bodies that look like these." He gestured to the forms of the deceased raiders, "Gather them, place them in a wagon, and then dispose of them outside of the village."

For a time the six servants of Týrnaust stood inert. Perhaps they were merely taking the time to process the issued commands. Or more likely as the dragonoid felt, having been removed from their usual habitat of the Grand Arena they were unable to comply.

But finally, after their collective contemplative pause, the stone golems began to move.

Five of them spread out through the village square while the last one, instead, took a different path. The sixth golem strode along the dirt roads, moving deeper into the village.

This intrigued the dragonoid.

Why was this golem leaving its brethren to carry out the task and just where was it going?

The answer came when the golem returned and behind it was a wagon. Unfortunately, the golem had neglected to disconnect the dead horse from its reins. Now the poor lifeless beast of burden was being dragged.

Tiberius sighed at the sight.

Well, I did tell them to get a wagon.

The golem pulled the cart to the center of the square before abandoning it and joining the others. With their broad, strong hands they took hold of limbs, or whatever part they could grab, before hoisting the bodies with ease from the soiled earth. With tireless efficiency, they collected the dead and swiftly deposited them into the back of the waiting cart.

As the golems busied themselves, the dragonoid took the opportunity to deal with the issue of the dragged horse. Striding forward, Tiberius drew his sword, and with a slash, he cut through the straps which connected the two.

The clean-up operation wasn't lost on the people of the village.

Attracted by the strange stone creatures a crowd had begun to form on the outskirts of the square. Though their numbers were low as most of the inhabitants were preoccupied with other matters.

Chief Wyllam stood amongst the crowd, he spent some time speaking with several others. Finishing his conversation, the older man nodded and then made his way to the silver-clad adventurer.

Seeing the older human's approach, the dragonoid observed him. Chief Wyllam wore a somber expression upon his troubled brow and carried himself with the slow stride of exhaustion.

Without needing to ask, Tiberius could already guess the reasons for the man's solemn look.

In his sojourn through Carne Village, he'd no doubt spoken to friends and neighbors and learned the extent of the damage caused by the brigands.

To call these men by any other name was infuriating. Even now, Tiberius could not hide his contempt for them or the low rumble in his throat. These men weren't raiders and now they were nothing.

"How bad is it?"

Tiberius instinctually inquired of Chief Wyllam. In response, the man sighed, his body sagging making him seem all the older for it.

"We lost a fair number of people in that attack. Including several families," Chief Wyllam paused to rub his eyes, "In total the dead number nearly a third of the village."

"I am sorry for your losses."

Despite his apparent sadness over recent events, Chief Wyllam was able to offer a slight grin as he regarded the dragonoid and his companion.

"But without your aid, I doubt that any of us would be here now," he bowed his head, "For this, we owe you and your companion everything."

Much to the surprise of the dragonoid, the village chieftain reached for his belt. Retrieving a small bag, he held it out in offering.

Extending his hand, Tiberius accepted the gift. As the pouch was placed in his open palm, he felt a familiar weight and heard a metallic jingle.

"What is this?"

"A simple payment for the services provided," Chief Wyllam used a tone that was obviously meant to remind the dragonoid of his own words, "I know it is not enough to truly repay our debt. I don't know if anything ever will. But we will do whatever can for you."

For a time, the silver-clad adventurer stood just holding the pouch in his hand before he gave his answer.

"Very well, Chief Wyllam. I accept your terms."

With a concise gesture, the coin-filled pouch was swiftly returned to the pocket dimension of the dragonoid's inventory.

Pleased, the man's smile widened and he nodded in agreement. He then shifted, his eyes moving to the strange stone figures that roved about.

"What are they?"

"They are called Golems. Beings animated by magic for the purpose of carrying out their master's bidding."

"I see."

Again, the human was given pause as he regarded the man who had such things at his beck and call.

Meanwhile, the Stone Golems continued their work. They moved about the grounds in their traditional mechanical fashion as they cleared out the mess. Progress was made at a steady pace as bodies were collected, gore expunged, and then loaded into the waiting cart. Even the body of the slain workhorse was loaded onto the wagon.

Once the wagon was full, the sixth golem took hold of the wagon tongue and began to pull. As the cart was led away, its stone brethren followed behind, and together the golems made their way through Carne Village.

Those villagers that moved about the paths were quick to step aside at the golem's approach, allowing them to pass unimpeded.

Seeing the golems on the move piqued the dragonoid's curiosity, and so he chose to follow.

The troupe of stone figures passed through the village, with their master in tow, and into the nearby fields. Here the lead golem relinquished its hold on the cart while another came alongside the wagon. Then it placed its large hands upon the wagon's underside and proceeded to roll the cart onto its side.

Bodies tumbled out of the wagon bed to land arbitrarily across the tilled earth. Once the last of the cargo had been deposited, the wagon was righted and the golems began the trek back to the village.

The dragonoid was surprised to see how effective they were at their assigned task. It was almost like the golems had a sixth sense for finding the refuse. The Arena Custodians even entered people's homes to carry out the bodies, but only those of the raiders as per their commands.

Thus the process was repeated, and the wagon was loaded before being taken out to the field and emptied. Back and forth several times the trip was made, and each time the pile of dead grew larger.

But the stone servants of Týrnaust were not the only ones involved in clean-up. As there was much to be done in the wake of the attack.

There was the matter of the damaged and destroyed houses that would need to be looked after. But most importantly there was the issue of their deceased neighbors that needed tending to.

Under Chief Wyllam's order, the villagers were split.

The women were sent to look after the children and care for those who suffered injury as a result of the attack. This meant the task of dealing with the damages and handling the dead fell to the men.

The men further split their numbers into two groups.

The first group gathered and set out for a nearby hillside. There they had the relatively easy task of digging the graves for the soon-to-arrive. This left the rest of the men to gather the bodies of their fallen.

Through the village streets and from house to house, they went. The dead were collected, their bodies wrapped in sheets of cloth and laid carefully on the beds of waiting wagons. Occasionally a cry of anguish would be heard from somewhere within the village as a villager would come upon the body of someone particularly close to them.

The care and reverence that the human villagers displayed was such a markedly different scene when compared to the cold and machinelike mannerisms of the golems.

When the grim undertaking was complete, the villagers assembled around the laden carts. The entirety of the community, save for those too young or unable to participate, then set forth. The procession's progress was slowed along the rough-hewn roads toward the hillside.

Trailing behind them all strode the dragonoid and his Floor Guardian escort.

Atop the hillside, overlooking the rural settlement of Carne was the communal graveyard.

It was an unassuming and peaceful setting.

A modest patch of green grass-covered earth surrounded by an old rustic fence. Along its length, there were numerous gaps in the fencing where the old boards had been dislodged or had simply rotted away over time. Scattered throughout the area within its confines were numerous stone markers. Each was cut roughly into an oblong shape. Some were small, measuring a mere foot in height while others stood nearly three feet tall. Some were old, covered in lichen and moss, their inscriptions weathered and hard to read. But a few were obviously freshly carved, still bearing the telltale markings of chisels.

However, all of them were unified in sharing the same bleak duty of marking the final resting place of a loved one.

A silent sentinel, ever watching over some bygone soul.

Tiberius had stayed back from the proceedings, positioning himself further up along the hillside. From here he looked on as the wagons were led into the small fenced plot of land. Then with deference, the cloth-swaddled bodies were lifted from the carts and carried to the freshly dug graves. With the aid of lengths of rope, each body was carefully lowered into the waiting earth.

There were plenty of tears to be shed by men, women, and children. All openly shared their grief as they bid farewell to friends and family.

Taking their place out in front of the gathering were Chief Wyllam and his wife. During each of the interments, he recited verses of a sermon meant to comfort the survivors and ease the spirits of the departed.

As he surveyed the proceedings, the dragonoid was able to identify the two sisters as well as their parents. The girl's mother held each of them close while their father spoke with another man. Each placed a reassuring hand upon the shoulder of the other.

Attending a formal funeral, even if from afar, was something Tiberius had never participated in before.

Typically back on earth when someone had passed away a few things would happen. First would be the issuing of the customary notice of death to the relatives of the decedent. Then the family would have to take responsibility of choosing what was to be done with the body. Given the rather poor state of much of the human population, bodies were usually left to the corporations for disposal. This always came with a hefty bill for the expenses.

Burials, like what he was currently witnessing were something reserved only for the truly wealthy. Only they could afford to make use of those few undeveloped parcels of earth left for a simple burial. But to do so also with a high tax rate and exorbitant monthly fee. Otherwise, the infinitesimal plot of dirt was repossessed by the corporation that owned the land and then rented out to anyone else willing to pay.

As the last body was laid to rest, the assembled villagers paid their final respects to those they had lost. Then they began to file out of the old cemetery and head back toward home.

Nevertheless, not all chose to leave so quickly as some lingered. Perhaps not ready to truly say goodbye.

By this time, Tiberius, however, had already departed and begun the trek back to the village. Making the journey with him was his ever-present chaperone of the Guardian Overseer.

Accompanying the pair on their sojourn was a strained silence.

Casting a glance over his shoulder, the dragonoid found Yuliana to be watching him.

"Is there something bothering you, Yuliana?"

At the sound of her name, the armoured female perked up.

"No… Well, yes actually. My lord, may I ask something of you?"

The dragonoid paused mid-stride and turned, "Of course, you may."

Yuliana similarly halted, "Why did you choose to save these humans? Our purpose for coming here was to collect information about this world, was it not? We accomplished this and had we allowed these humans to perish, our presence would then have passed unnoticed. So why then did we change that?"

Tiberius considered her words carefully as he sought to find the reason for himself as well.

She's right. If these people had all died in the attack then there'd be no one who knew about us. But I couldn't do that, not after they had helped me. In YGGDRASIL, the Sanguine Dragons stood up against PKers. This was no different.

The dragonoid reflected on that last statement.

It seemed to be as good an answer as he could find. Yet he wasn't sure if this was an answer that would satisfy Yuliana.

"Tell me, Yuliana, what do you know of the Sanguine Dragons outside of Týrnaust?"

The Guardian Overseer lowered her head in shame.

"I am afraid I know nothing. Save for the brief conversations of the Supreme Beings which I have overheard during their time within the Throne Room."

Her statement was something that caught the dragonoid's attention and created new questions. Was it possible that the NPCs had memories of their time before arriving in this new world?

"Outside of Týrnaust, the Sanguine Dragons traveled across the lands of YGGDRASIL. And in our journeys, we'd seen many others come under attack. So we decided to lend our aid to those in need. In doing so we gained many allies, who in turn repaid our kindness by lending us their support when we called for it."

For a moment she was silent, but then Yuliana replied.

"I think I understand," her tone held a peculiar inflection, "In saving these people it indentures them to you. This debt will in turn make them an asset for your use in the future. It is a brilliant strategy. As to be expected from the leader of the Creators."

Behind the wolven face of his helmet, Tiberius could only stare at his companion dumbfounded.

That's not what I meant at all! Saying it like that makes it sound like I am tricking people into slavery or something.

With a brief sigh, he turned, shook his head, and continued onwards toward the waiting village.

By the time the pair had reached the village, much of the day had been already spent. The sun was starting its steady journey to meet the horizon. It did not go overlooked by the dragonoid.

I think it's time for us to get back.

Striding through the hamlet, Tiberius, and Yuliana made their way toward the village center. It was here, having finished with their assigned task the six golems had gathered and stood waiting at the point of their summons.

"[Gate]."

With a gesture of his hand, the same portal that had borne these beings of stone to Carne reappeared. Only now the gateway would be used to ferry them home.

"You have done well. Go now, and return home to Týrnaust."

As one unit the golems turned and without a word started to move through the waiting portal. Around the square, some of the villagers had congregated, watching the departure of the stone men. Perhaps they had not witnessed their initial arrival. Or maybe they simply wished to see more of these magical wonders.

As the last golem crossed the threshold, the magical vortex evaporated into the ether.

"Now that our business here is concluded, I believe we should be…"

Yet it seemed fate had other plans in the making.

Standing across from the duo of visitors was the village chief. The older man was busy talking with several others, and if their appearance was anything to go by, then whatever the topic of discussion was it certainly didn't bode well.

Aww, what now?!

Deciding not to wait for the man to bring the news to him. Tiberius was preemptive, striding across the grounds he went to meet him.

"Chief Wyllam, what seems to be the trouble?"

The older human turned away from the others and regarded the armoured duo. His expression glum seemed to brighten if only marginally.

"Some of the men who had taken to keeping watch of the area have returned. And it's not good. It seems they spotted a large number of men approaching on horseback. From what they said, they appear to be another band of warriors."

This news spread quickly through those of the crowd within earshot.

Already looks of fear could be seen cresting the faces of the villagers. Some of them hastily left the square for the relative safety afforded by their homes. No doubt seeking to barricade themselves within.

Not wishing to deal with a village's worth of panicking people, the dragonoid acted promptly.

"Please calm yourselves," Tiberius held his hands aloft to capture the attention of the crowd, "I shall deal with these newcomers."

After his words, it was like a blanket of tranquility had been pulled over the villagers. The looks of dread slowly faded away to be replaced by expressions of relief and hope.

"Chief Wyllam it would be best if you send everyone back to their homes. Meanwhile, my companion and I shall head outside of the village to meet the newcomers and determine their intentions."

"But what if they make it into the village? If we're inside our homes then we'll be trapped. Shouldn't we flee instead?"

Tiberius took several steps closer to the chief, "I promise you. None of them will get past us if they are indeed here to fight. Now can I count on you to do as I said?"

The man swallowed hard, taking a step back from the armoured adventurer. The low tone with which he had spoken was laced with menace and served as a reminder of just what the pair was capable of.

"Yes, I shall see to it at once."

Living up to his title as village chief, he moved away and began to bark orders to those around him. Soon the villagers dispersed as word spread amongst those gathered and people rushed home. A few, however, were given the task of acting as messengers and informing the rest of those not present.

Within short order, the streets were cleared and the village of Carne was transformed into a virtual ghost town.

Sharing a final word, Chief Wyllam wished the pair good luck before turning and making his way to his home and waiting wife.

"Yuliana, let's go."

o – o – o – o

A fair distance outside the village, the dragonoid and his female companion stood in an open field.

Good. We should be far enough away now. The open terrain will make it easier to keep track of the enemy and allow us to make use of AOE spells. Well, that is as long as we stick to the lower-tier spells. Don't need to blow up the village when we're trying to save it.

Tiberius stared out into the distance.

So I guess now we just have to wait.

The pair didn't have long to wait as a large cloud of dust soon began to rise above the horizon.

It was a cloud being kicked up by the numerous horses being ridden by the oncoming host. Moments later the thunderous hoof beats began to echo as they drew nearer.

On the flat and open grounds, the men on horseback had little trouble in spotting the gleaming silver armour ahead of them. The heavy thuds of hooves grew duller as the mounted soldiers slowed from the full gallop to a slow trot.

The skill of the riders was evident as every man managed to keep their horse in formation with the rest, leaving no significant gaps between them.

Tiberius remained on the spot, his eyes scanning over the horse riders as their forward movement stalled out. In doing so the dragonoid took note of their equipment.

Those who had attacked the village had a look of uniformity about them, and some even had regality to their appearance. Each man wore a matching set of armour and each one was outfitted with identical gear.

These men present before Tiberius now were a far cry different.

The armour and equipment that these men wore seemed to vary from one man to the next. Sometimes it was only by a small degree and other times the differences were far more apparent.

As for similarities, the horsemen wore clothing of dark earth tones. Their trousers were the colour of rich mud and lighter-coloured jerkins over cream undershirts. Overtop they wore chainmail and a plate mail cuirass to protect their torsos.

The armour looked to be of poorer quality than those of the previous invaders. The breastplates were dull in colour, lacking the sheen of polished metal, and appeared dimpled from ill mending. Some also wore greaves to guard their legs while others only had knee pads or shin plates atop their knee-high boots.

There were a few toward the front of the company that looked to be wearing a more complete set of armour. Something akin to half-plate.

Equally, the men's helmets were a mishmash.

Some wore the semi-enclosed barbute-style helms that left the faces visible through the T-shaped opening. Others wore helmets that had more of a resemblance to a construction hardhat than something meant for the battlefield. More surprisingly there were even some who wore no form of protection atop their heads at all.

The differences continued down to the weapons they carried.

There were swords, one-handed and two-handed, that hung from their belts. Shields were strapped to the side of the horse's saddle. There were bows with fully laden quivers. A number of them carried halberds or spears which they held with points aimed at the sky. While maces, morningstars, and warhammers dangled from the belts of others.

However, these appearances could be deceiving.

The wide range between each man's equipment made the group seem more like some ragtag militia unit than a regiment of trained professional warriors. Evident as each of these men had the bearing of a veteran soldier as they sat tall in their saddles.

When the riders finally halted some ten yards away, they fell into tightly regimented rows. At the head of the band, their leader urged his horse forward a short distance.

The man's head turned as keen eyes scanned over the surroundings. He spent a fair amount of time looking toward the village that lay beyond. But his gaze soon fell upon the pair of armoured figures who stood imposing themselves between himself and the village.

As the man opened his mouth to speak the dragonoid acted first. Lifting his arm, Tiberius held his hand up in a gesture to halt the man.

"Come no further if you value your lives."