Chapter 2: The Carnage of Dáinsleif, the Crimson Thirst

“It’s no use.” In the assembly hall, the air was thick with gloom as the village’s chief and its adult men discussed what their defensive measures should be. “No matter what strategy we come up with, we’ll never stand a chance against a dark magus.”

After the destruction of Titus Village, Crow’s hometown, the villainous dark magus that had spearheaded it was still at large. Their village could be attacked anytime.

Though the men offered their opinions, their ideas were naive at best, and the chief flatly refused them all. They’d been at this for three days now.

“Don’t mistake them for the likes of bandits,” said the chief. “You know full well the threat posed by the aethereal arms they wield.”

“Y-You mean those weapons that gained powers when touched by aether, right? The stuff of legends and myths?” said one of the village men. “I’ve never seen one myself, but...”

“Indeed,” confirmed the chief.

Aethereal arms—humanity’s final trump card! A thousand years before, the highly concentrated aether that had spread throughout the land had affected not only living creatures but also a number of objects—remnants of legendary items once believed to have special powers.

“Originally, they were ancient relics,” the chief explained. “Practically none of them are intact now, of course—mostly just fragments. However, modifying ordinary pieces of equipment with those fragments gives them a fraction of that legendary power.”

Said power was immense.

The people, driven to the brink of extinction, had taken up “aethereal arms”—thus named because aether granted them unusual abilities—and fought back against the threat of the aetherborn. Thus humans were finally able to regain their former authority. However...

“Damn those dark magi! Those weapons are humanity’s hope! How dare they use them for selfish gain!” muttered the chief in disgust.

No longer facing the danger of eradication, humanity could once again afford the luxury of indulgence. Many emerged who were willing and able to commit violent crime. The dark magi were the prime example of that, their actions growing more and more brutal with time.

“The man who attacked Titus Village in particular allegedly employed a large number of goblins. If he attacked us, we wouldn’t stand a chance,” the chief said. “We need to call upon the magus knights! They wield traditional aethereal arms to protect the royal family! I’m sure they could—”

“I’m sorry, what?” a voice objected. “We’re in the middle of nowhere, a week away from the nearest town with a knights’ outpost! Besides, what happens if the messenger runs into aetherborn on the way there?!”

“That’s right!” agreed several other villagers. Each had their own objections to add:

“Even assuming we manage to petition them safely, Chief, who’s to say the village won’t get attacked before the knights even get here?!”

“We barely even have any manpower! We don’t have anyone to spare for this fool’s errand!”

“We need to think of some way to resist the bastard ourselves, right here! If we all work together, I’m sure we can do it!”

While the villagers, especially the younger ones, were excited at the prospect of handling the situation themselves, the chief remained obstinate.

“Don’t underestimate an arms wielder!” he shouted. “I’ve witnessed firsthand the knight they call the Crusher destroy an entire nest of aetherborn! There’s no way ordinary people like us could withstand that sort of power! And our foe has those creatures on his side!”

“Then we attack him in his sleep!” a villager remarked.

“How, you nitwit?! We don’t even know where he is!”

“We’ll just go and find him, then!”

Angry shouts echoed throughout the assembly hall. Confused in the face of the unknown, people ranted and raved at one another.

“Whatever! You’re a coward, Chief! That lad—Crow, I think his name was—managed to make it here with a bunch of kids, right? Worse comes to worst, we should at least be able to run away too, then!”

“Don’t be ridiculous! You think anyone but him could pull that off?!” the chief snapped back, all but screaming at this point. Such behavior was unlike him, and the men shut up.

“I’m sure we’ve all heard the rumors of Crow, the young prodigy of Titus,” said the chief.

The young man was famous even in that neighboring village. Calm, sagacious, not a hint of childish selfishness in him—so they said. At a very young age, he was already working diligently. Not a single person thought ill of him.

“The other young people he rescued say he seems mature, and everyone respects him. They said girls are so taken with the young man that they’re too nervous to even speak to him,” the chief went on, his voice more passionate with every word. “They were crying, both from gratitude to Crow and at their own inadequacy! For while they ran away to save their own skin, with no regard for anyone else, Crow saved the young children! While his peers goofed off, he was training with everything he had! He even secured an escape route for everyone! They were quite ashamed of themselves!”

The men remained quiet as the chief told his tale—the tale of Crow’s courage to step out beyond the safety of the village, braving those places where aetherborn lurked, to secure an escape route for everyone. Of his heroism, as he used his own body as a shield to protect others from the attackers.

Now the men felt mortified. Unlike Crow, they were merely panicking at the last minute, raising their voices at their fellows. How pathetic they were!

“Even someone of his caliber could only get the children to safety. As the dark magus attacked the other villagers, it was all he could do to desperately run from their goblin minions. And you all mean to tell me you can say, without a shadow of a doubt, that you could pull off such a life-threatening getaway?! You mean to tell me you’ll attack the dark magus?!”

Everyone stood in awkward silence, not daring to say a word. Getting so many to safety had been an incredible feat. They all understood full well that the young man could only have done it thanks to his kindness, wit, and meticulous planning.

“Man, compared to that boy...”

“Yeah, we don’t stand a chance.”

It ill befitted grown men to hatch a reckless plan based on petty squabbles and bravado. They had to follow that young man’s example!

But of course, this was all a misunderstanding on their part.

Saving the children had been incidental. All of Crow’s hard work had been, without question, directed simply at saving his own hide. Though he might have appeared mature, he was just terrible at communication and didn’t speak much. Frankly, all he had was a certain air and look about him, nothing more! On the inside, he was just a lazy, good-for-nothing guy.

Unaware of this, the villagers reconciled with one another over the tale of Crow’s alleged exploits.

“S-Sorry, chief. I got carried away and called you a coward. That was rude of me.”

“It’s fine,” the chief replied. “I was too stubborn, myself.”

The rage melted away from the atmosphere. Everyone regained their composure and turned to constructive discussion on how to handle the issue.

“Why don’t we ask Crow’s opinion? He seemed pretty down when I saw him, but...”

“Mm, he’s a kind young man,” the chief said. “I’m sure his heart aches over his inability to save all of the villagers. Still, I’m certain he’ll have good ideas.”

The discussion had hardly begun anew when a desperate cry rang out.

“G-Goblins! An entire group of them!” a villager yelled from outside the assembly hall.

Cries of “What?!” and “It can’t be!” arose. The men immediately leaped to their feet and ran out of the hall to investigate. Barreling down a nearby hill was a group of green humanoids—goblins. Once monkeys but now corrupted by aether, these aetherborn stood at barely a child’s height. Their brutality, however, was unfathomable.

“No... This is exactly what we feared!”

If only they had acted sooner! Bitter regret gripped their hearts, but now was not the time to be paralyzed with fear.

“Everyone, run!” the village chief shouted. “Save the children!”

The adults were determined to see to it that the children had a future, just like young Crow had. And so, they took off running—

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! And where do you losers think you’re going?!”

A powerful strike! As a voice rang out from above, a man was cleft in twain. He fell with a gurgle, a mist of fresh blood spraying those nearby!

“What?!” It took the village chief and the others a moment to realize what had happened. Bathed in the blood of their dead neighbor, who they’d just been speaking to, they quickly fell into a panic and screamed.

“Gah ha ha! Grown men, shaking in their boots like little children! You’re all pathetic!”

A skeletal man stood before the villagers, mocking them with a crude sneer. His cheeks were gaunt, his eye sockets hollow, and his body as thin as a dead branch. Despite this, in his hand was a large blade, longer than the man was tall.

“You’re... Wait, that sword in your hand... Don’t tell me...!”

The blade was a wondrous sight to behold, emanating a faint crimson light. It could be no ordinary weapon.

“Is that...an aethereal arm?!”

“You bet it is!” said the gaunt man. “This is my partner, Dáinsleif, the Crimson Thirst!”

At the man’s words, they beheld a new and bizarre sight: fresh blood swirled up from the remains of the deceased villager. As if moving of its own will, the blood was sucked into Dáinsleif’s blade.

“Ahhh! Here it comes, here it comes, here it comes! Ohhh, that feels good! That feels sooo good!” the skeletal man shouted in ecstasy.

A sound akin to the beating of a heart emanated from the sword. At the same time, the man’s muscles swelled, his entire body taking on a grotesque, gigantic shape. Only his face remained the same.

“What the...?!”

“Geh heh heh! That’s my partner’s power! The story goes that Dáinsleif has a thirst for blood and mayhem! It consumes the blood of those it cuts down to give me temporary strength!” the man explained, and laughed maniacally as he leaned backwards.

His eyes gleaming brightly, the man turned his cruel gaze to the villagers, whom he saw as little more than prey.

“Now, then: time for you losers to become dinner!” he said, letting out a vile cry as he raised his bloodstained blade.

“No!” the villagers cried out at the prospect of having their lives consumed.

But just then, a voice rang out.

“Stop this! Now!”

Shocked, the skeletal man lunged to the side and lifted his sword to shield his chest, just in time to catch a powerful thrust to its center. The giant flew back an astonishing distance—over ten meters—and groaned. “Wh-Who the hell are you?!”

“What?!” the village elder exclaimed. “Wait, you’re...” He couldn’t believe his eyes. “Crow?!”

Standing before their wide gazes was young Crow, clutching a night-black blade in his hand. He shot a brief, cool, dashing glance at the villagers before turning in fury upon the skeletal man.

“Evildoer! For the sin of robbing me of my home, I hereby deliver judgment!”

Crow’s voice reverberated as he announced the man’s sentence, his majestic visage inspiring confidence in the hearts of the villagers. He was the one, the man, the hero to save them all!

(Spoiler: No. No, he wasn’t.)