"What are you going to do to me? And where are my mother and sister?" Borwur asked menacingly after hearing all that.
Rento looked at him with contempt and said, "Don't act so lightly if you don't want to die like Volgur and the other one. What was his name? Well, I don't remember, but what a shame. Look, he sold his village to get his son back from us, and in the end, they both ended up dead, poor things. You should have seen the way he cried while hugging his son's lifeless body; it almost made me feel sorry for him. He was lucky I'm someone kind and I quickly put an end to his suffering."
"What do you mean, Volgur and Vilgir are dead?" Borwur said, his eyes blurring as he looked at Rento, looking almost crazy.
"Oh yeah, that's right, Vilgir was the boy's name. What a shitty name. Sometimes I forget the bad taste you forgetful people have." Yeah, well, they both died, but don't go crazy yet. The best is yet to come. As we speak, your sister must be dead, and your mother is dying in her final moments while my men enjoy her. You're the final straw. He needs to see you die before his eyes so she understands what she did wrong.
Rento suddenly stopped talking and grabbed his throat.
A moment later, he fell to the ground. On top of the body was Borwur, his eyes bloodshot, a dagger dripping with blood in his hand.
His mind was racing, barely able to process any thoughts other than the hatred gnawing at him inside.
What do you mean, Volgur and Vilgir are dead? What do you mean, his sister is dead too? And what did he say they did to his mother?
Without being able to think any longer, he slammed the door open. The armored men waiting at the door were shocked, but by the time they were ready to react, he was already several meters ahead of them. They were about to chase him when, suddenly, they smelled blood coming from the house. They all turned around and were shocked to see what was inside. There lay their superior, dead, in a pool of blood emanating from his neck, with a look of terror on his face.
Borwur ran toward the streets he'd come from before, hoping it was all a big lie and his mother and sister were walking back to the house, talking and smiling, as usual.
After a few minutes of running wildly, he finally saw them, but found something very different from what he'd expected.
There were three men talking to each other.
"I told you you had to be careful. Look, you killed her, Rento's going to get mad at you," said the tallest of the three.
"Fuck, I didn't expect him to be so weak, I screwed up," said the youngest man, putting his hands to his head. He was no older than 16 and had a pure, white complexion, devoid of any experience or wounds that would show he'd known the horrors of war.
He continued speaking now in a more animated tone. "I'm sure if I find two or three pretty young girls, he'll let it pass, although it's true that this one is extraordinarily beautiful, even for a forgotten one."
He was interrupted by an older man sitting next to these two and playing with a blood-covered dagger. "Leave it alone," he said. "It's done and dusted. Now that we're done here early, we must continue with the mission. Remember, we must massacre every forgotten person in this place."
"You're right," the young man replied. "If we leave now, we won't run into Rento, and who knows? Maybe if I manage to kill a lot of them, he'll let me through."
All this talk was taking place around a woman of great beauty with cuts on various parts of her body, torn clothing, and black eyes, as dark as the abyss itself, devoid of any light. From those gem-like eyes, tears flowed like rivers across her skin, giving an almost fantastic, yet unnecessary, shine to that lifeless skin.
A few feet away from her was a little girl, with cuts all over her body, appearing to have suffered unimaginable torture. Just like her mother, you could see those beautiful, lifeless black eyes surrounded by large tears that fell to the ground, forming a small puddle.
At that moment, the three men stopped talking to each other and turned around to see a pale boy with dark eyes and hair. However, there was something different about him. Blood was oozing from his black eyes, a scarlet color that stood out against the boy's pale skin tone. Something about the scene was mystical, almost inhuman. Everyone felt a chill run down their spines, and before any of them could respond or say anything to the boy, one of their heads fell to the ground, cleanly severed, as if it had never belonged to him.
"Boy, move!" the older man shouted, but it was too late.
Borwur used the momentum after cutting the first man's neck to spin on his right leg as he fell to the ground and stabbed the young man in the stomach. In a flash, one man was headless and another was lying on the ground, dying, trying to stop the bleeding.
"Kid, who are you and what are you doing here? We weren't told there were any users," the older man said, sweating profusely and trying to make sense of the situation.
However, at that moment, Borwur wasn't listening; all he had in mind was revenge on those who had taken his family away from him. And so, he quickly advanced on the man.