The mother's tearful screams still resonated hours after the attack.
The boy torn from her arms, the creature disappearing into the trees, the shadows trembling as if the forest itself was celebrating the hunt.
But now, in the square, only silence remained.
The entire village had gathered around the White Lotus temple, under the dim light of crooked torches and trembling hands.
The villagers didn't speak. They didn't breathe loudly.
They waited.
Ren finally emerged from the temple.
His face was serene, clean, expressionless… but in his eyes shone something the villagers couldn't decipher: a mix of deep compassion and absolute authority, as if he were more than a man.
The boy's mother threw herself at his feet.
"Please… please bring him back! I can't… I can't go on without him!"
Ren crouched, took her face in his hands, forcing her to look at him.
"Listen to me," he said, his voice soft but penetrating. "Your son is not dead."*
The woman sobbed, in disbelief.
"R-re… really?"
"I'm sorry. I can hear him. He is still breathing.
And as long as I exist… I will not let that breath be extinguished."
The woman burst into tears, but this time clinging to Ren as if he were the last pillar of a collapsing world.
And the entire village saw that gesture.
Ren slowly rose, helping the woman to her feet.
Then he spoke, without shouting. Without melodrama.
Only the truth… the one he designed for them.
"You cannot face what lives in the forest alone.
You cannot protect yourselves.
But I can protect you."
The villagers began to nod, trembling.
"The boy will be recovered," Ren continued. "But to achieve that… I need you to trust me.
Not as a visitor.
Not as a warrior.
But as your guide."*
A reverent silence swept through the village.
The chief of Gaipan bowed his head to Ren.
Then the elders.
Then entire families.
"Ren…" the chief said. "Gaipan is yours. Do what you must. Just… save us."*
Ren bowed his head slightly, humble in appearance, victorious underneath.
"Gaipan will not fall," he sentenced. "Not while the White Lotus protects it."*
And on that dark night, the entire village swore fealty.
Ren had emotionally isolated the village towards him…
exactly as he had planned.
Hours later, as the village slept under blankets of fear and faith, Ren walked among the trees with Suri and Azula.
The forest was dark.
Too dark.
The moon seemed to dim with every step they took deeper inside, as if the creature had devoured the light as well.
Suri advanced silently, almost invisible.
Azula walked close to Ren, her blue fire barely illuminating the path.
He, however, didn't seem to need light: he moved as if he knew the forest since before he was born.
Suddenly, Suri raised a hand.
"Here," she whispered.
On the ground, disturbed earth, deep tracks, and something that made them all hold their breath:
"A drag mark," Azula murmured. "Big."*
Suri nodded.
"The boy passed through here. By force."
Ren knelt and touched the earth with two fingers.
Still warm.
That meant they were less than an hour away.
A crunch between the trees made Azula light up fire immediately.
But Ren raised a hand.
"No."
The three remained motionless.
The silence became absolute.
And then they saw it.
A gigantic shadow among the branches.
Enormous, circular eyes, too human to belong to an animal.
A body covered in dark, heavy fur, almost like living mud.
Long claws, dragging something wrapped in small cloths… the boy.
The creature didn't roar.
It didn't growl.
It just looked at them.
Ren felt the air change.
It wasn't a beast.
It was something ancient.
Something that knew who he was.
And it responded.
The creature let out a deep growl, which didn't sound like an animal sound but a primitive warning.
A vibration.
A recognition.
As if to say:
"You… do not belong here."
Ren didn't back down.
He let his fingers light up with a faint white glow.
The creature watched him.
It didn't attack.
And then… it disappeared among the trees.
Suri took a deep breath, tense.
"Ren…
That… wasn't normal."
Azula frowned.
"What the hell was that?"
Ren only smiled.
"The beginning."
At dawn, the village was summoned by Ren to the central square.
The families came out, tired, trembling, with deep dark circles under their eyes. The kidnapping of the boy had shattered any illusion of safety.
And Ren knew it.
He had prepared something very special.
In the center of the square, Ren was kneeling in front of a stone bowl, filled with river water.
Around him, white petals and ash from burned herbs.
Suri watched from the rooftops.
Keiko and Mai guarded the village entrances.
Ty Lee distributed small white ribbons among the children.
Azula watched with her arms crossed, fascinated by Ren's calculated theatricality.
The village fell silent as Ren stood up.
"From this night on," he declared, "Gaipan will not be alone."*
He extended his hands over the bowl.
And the water… began to float.
First a thread.
Then a full veil, rising as if responding to an invisible call.
The villagers gasped.
"This ritual," Ren continued, "will mark the pact between you and the White Lotus.
A pact of protection.
A pact of unity.
A pact… of life."*
The water became a suspended sphere.
The white fire flared from his fingers.
The sphere glowed.
The water became light.
And the light fell upon the villagers like a gentle rain.
The children laughed.
The elders wept.
The parents felt peace for the first time in months.
Ren finished the ritual by saying:
"From today, the White Lotus will be your shield.
And I…
will be the guardian who hears your fear and responds with strength."
The entire village bowed.
Azula whispered behind him:
"You are a demon…
or a god."
Ren smiled.
"There is no difference to those who need to believe."
The White Lotus's first mission had begun.
And Gaipan was no longer just a rescued village.
It was the first devoted territory.
The first foundation of the empire that Ren would build.