The morning sun stretched its soft glow over the trail that led from the borderlands toward the open plains. The breeze was calm and cool, brushing across the long grass that shimmered like waves under the sky. Horses marched in rhythm, hooves striking dust into gentle clouds as the East Valley Wing caravan advanced.
Ellein and Ferlin rode ahead near the chariot where Kiaria and Diala sat. The quiet journey was broken by a teasing voice that rose from the side."It seems our little hero doesn't have to spend time on something precious," someone called out mockingly. "You lucky fellow… you're not bad."
Ferlin chuckled under his breath. "Ellein, you'll never change."Kiaria sighed, rubbing his temple. "Brothers, isn't it a bit awkward? Let's keep moving." He let out a small exhale. "Finally… escaped."
But even as he said that, his eyes shifted toward Diala. She noticed his gaze and looked down immediately, fingers fidgeting at the hem of her robe. The soft rattle of the wheels filled the silence between them.
After a long stretch, Kiaria finally spoke, breaking the quiet."Dia, what's bothering you? You've been distant lately. Sometimes you act close, then suddenly cold. Are you keeping something from me?"
"Kia… I…" She faltered, her words trembling. Her eyes didn't meet his.
"Dia, I'm listening," he said calmly.
"No… nothing. You're overthinking," she replied quickly, forcing a smile.
"Really…!" Kiaria didn't press further. "Alright," he said gently. "But don't rush your cultivation. You remember what happened to me last time. Don't repeat my mistakes. Curiosity can kill a cat, Dia. Don't let it hurt you."
Before she could answer, someone knocked on the chariot window. It was Sheriff Staley."Kids, we're nearing the Grasslands. Prepare your tokens. And Dia, sit closer to him – there's no need for formality now."
Kiaria adjusted his wide hat, pulling out the golden token from his waist. "Dia, come closer," he said quietly. She hesitated, then obeyed, sitting beside him as the chariot rolled forward.
Through the curtains, the world opened before them – the grand entrance to the Grasslands. The horizon spread like a boundless emerald sea, stretching as far as sight reached. The scent of wildflowers drifted with the wind, and the grass rippled softly under sunlight. Yet, the serenity ended where the border began.
Rows of red-armored soldiers lined the main gate. Their halberds gleamed, and their crimson cloaks fluttered with the wind. They stood in rigid formation, inspecting travelers' tokens. On the far left, a group of trespassers knelt under scorching sun, punished by lashes from the guards. The air carried a harsh rhythm – the snap of whips, the cries of pain, the heavy silence that followed each strike.
Kiaria leaned near the window, watching quietly. "Looks like discipline is serious here," he murmured.
Suddenly, a loud commotion stirred the gate."Get out of my way!" a coarse voice roared.
Two ornate carriages thundered through the line, scattering travelers and horses alike. Dust surged into the air. An elderly couple was thrown aside – the man hit the ground hard and spat blood. No one dared to help.
A few meters ahead, a little boy sat in the middle of the road, playing with a wooden horse. The oncoming carriage didn't stop. A servant leaned out, whip drawn, striking toward the child.
The whip cracked – but a hand caught it.
Kiaria had already stepped out of the chariot. His grip tightened around the whip, veins standing out across his hand. The servant froze.
"How dare you harm the helpless?" Kiaria's tone was calm but sharp enough to cut stone. He yanked the whip, dragging the servant off the carriage, and threw him against the side of the wheel. The man groaned, face covered in dust.
"Stop it!"
The shout came from the second carriage. A richly dressed man stepped down, his clothes shimmering with woven gold threads. Rings glinted on his fingers, and his eyes bore the arrogance of power.
He studied Kiaria from head to toe, then smiled faintly. "Servants, this young man looks familiar. Tell me, my little friend – who are you? Have we met before?"
Kiaria stood still. "You don't deserve to know my name."
The man chuckled. "Ah, so fierce. It's just a misunderstanding. My servants can be… unruly. Forgive them this once. I'll make them apologize."
He turned sharply to his servant. "You! Kneel down! Say sorry to this boy." The servant fell to his knees, trembling. "See?" the noble said smoothly. "No need for trouble now."
Kiaria's eyes narrowed, a humorless smile on his lips. "You're a good actor."
The noble's smile faded. "Impatient, are we? Then don't blame me." He raised his hand. "Troops, surround them – but don't kill."
Within seconds, dozens of soldiers and servants encircled Kiaria. Swords gleamed under sunlight.
The mercenaries of East Valley Wing sprang forward instantly, forming a defensive circle. "Little brother, we've got you," Ferlin said, drawing his blade.
The noble scoffed. "So, the East Valley Wing dares stand against me? What a pity. None of you will leave alive."
"Brothers," Staley said dryly, "this idiot's name doesn't even deserve memory."
Kiaria stepped forward. "Brother Staley, let me handle this. I'll take care of him myself."
Staley smirked. "He's all yours."
The noble raised an eyebrow. "You'll regret this."
Kiaria didn't retrieve his Sacred Sword or flashy techniques – only a quiet hum rippled through the air. His aura shifted. The young boy–small enough–hands was meant to be held by his parents, standing with a massive and imposing beast companion behind.
The mercenaries stepped back, knowing what was coming.
The soldiers charged first – but before their feet even hit the ground twice, a gust of shadow burst forth. The beast's roar shook the field. In the next blink, half the attackers lay sprawled across the dirt, their armor dented, their weapons shattered.
The noble froze, disbelief on his face. "W–Who are you?"
Kiaria approached slowly, his steps calm. "You don't need to know."
"You'll die for this," the noble stammered. "If you harm me, the entire Grassland command will–"
Kiaria crouched in front of him, his tone soft and cold. "Don't be kidding. There is no one in this Empire born with the power to touch my hair. You threatened a child and killed innocents for pride. The only punishment you deserve is the people's wrath and judgement."
He turned to the crowd. "Didn't he bully you all? You can hide in silence, or reclaim your dignity. Choice is yours." His voice steadied, "fear is a fuel to raise the sword against threat, not against you."
The street grew still. Then, the little boy who'd dropped his toy earlier walked forward. He lifted his broken wooden horse – and threw it at the noble's face.
The crowd followed. One by one, people stepped forward. The guards hesitated but didn't intervene. They had seen enough.
The noble screamed, "You… all of you will die!" His body pulsed with sudden rage, veins bulging. His aura burst outward – malicious and wild. His skin darkened, his muscles twisted. Bones left their joints. No pain, body expanded. A berserker's form – half human, half beast.
He roared and lunged toward Kiaria, twin fold fans drawn, filled with blood-colored energy.
Before impact, Diala stepped in front of Kiaria, her arms raised to shield him.
Kiaria smiled faintly. "Dia, move." He tapped a pressure point on her shoulder-neck, making her body go still for a moment. In a flash, he whisked her back into the chariot.
The berserker's fans slashed downward – but never connected. The energy burst fizzled into nothing the moment it touched Kiaria. His eyes glowed faintly.
The berserker froze, panic spreading across his face. "My… energy–it's gone–"
Kiaria's hand gripped the man's wrist. "Energy born from arrogance will burn fast. I had a small hope in you, but now it seems unnecessary."
A faint ripple passed through the air – a spiritual backlash struck. The berserker's form shattered, his aura collapsing inward. He fell to the ground, nearly unconscious and alive.
Gloomy eyes widened, trembling legs stood still, voices became silent.
The soldiers lowered their heads. Civilians began whispering – not in fear, but in awe. The boy's mother hugged her son tightly, tears streaking her dusty face.
Sheriff Staley broke the silence. "Next time, pick your enemies wisely, you barely escaped from death, fool" he muttered. Then louder, "Everyone, move on!"
The mercenaries cleared the way. Kiaria stood still for a moment, dust swirling around his boots. Diala peeked from the chariot window, eyes soft yet troubled.
When Kiaria climbed back inside, she whispered, "You didn't have to fight for them."
He smiled faintly. "Then what's the point of strength, if not to protect?"
Diala disagreed his words by tilting head. Her eyes met his eyes, "If you are not confident about the results, then what use is in this strength?"
Kiaria impressed by her words, but he completed her words with answer. "When weak raise sword against his fears, hope answers. When hope answer, strength implements."
Laughs exploded in the chariot.
Outside, the caravan rolled forward once more. The Grasslands stretched endlessly before them – a world vast, open, and waiting.