The clash of wooden blade rang through the training yard.
Mason's breathing had grown heavier, but his eyes—sharp, burning—never left his target.
"Again!" Chad said calmly.
Mason didn't hesitate.
He stepped forward and swung—fast.
Then faster.
First with his feet then his wooden sword, his wooden sword blurred as he unleashed a flurry of strikes, each one carrying more force than the last. His footwork tightened, his shoulders turned with precision, and his entire body moved as one. No wasted motion. No hesitation
Each strike Mason threw was met with calm, overwhelming precision. Chad uses his bear hands —deflecting and redirecting every attack
"Go More," Chad said,
Mason increased his pace. But even with that Chad had thr upper hand, Before he could react, Chad's wooden blade tapped into his ribs.
A clean hit.
Mason staggered back, exhaling heavily, chest rising and falling.
But he didn't fall.
Instead—
He rushed forward again.
Chad was impressed
A shout escaped him as he poured everything into his next attack. His blade came down hard, then twisted mid-swing—just like he'd been practicing—changing direction at the last second to strike from the side.
Chad smiles approving that attack
Then He blocked it.
Effortlessly.
"Nice" Chad says
Very impressed
Mason exhaled sharply, sweat trailing down his face. But he tightened his grips.
"You know"
He breaths heavily
"Am just getting started"
He wasn't done.
Not yet.
He prepares to attack again
"Help!!!"
"THIEF!!"
The scream tore through the air.
Both of them froze.
"Quickly somebody stop them they're running!"
Mason's head snapped toward the village.
Chad didn't move immediately—but his eyes shifted.
Sharp. Focused.
Cause they both noticed it was the voice of Becca
From the village store, chaos spilled outward.
Seven men burst into view.
Rough. Armed.
Knives. Axes. Sacks filled with stolen food slung over their shoulders.
They ran fast—desperate—but not unprepared.
Villagers began pouring out of their homes, shouting, pointing, panic spreading like wildfire.
"Stop them!"
"Someone do something!"
"They're escaping!"
The thieves were heading straight for the village gate—
Straight toward the training yard.
Mason's grip tightened on his sword.
"…Father."
"On it" Chad replies
Chad stepped forward.
Slow.
Calm.
He walked past Mason and into the path of the incoming thieves.
No rush.
No fear.
Just certainty.
The ground seemed to quiet beneath his steps.
The seven men noticed him.
At first, they didn't slow.
Then—
They did.
One by one, their pace dropped.
Boots scraping against dirt.
Chad stopped a few meters ahead of them, standing alone in the open path.
Between them…
And Freedom
Then one of them broke the silence
"Boss you said Chad wouldn't be around at this time but look at him now" he said with a trembling voice as he was shaking
"Shut up lucas" the boss replies
"Drop what you took."
Chad's voice was low, steady, but it carried across the open space like a command.
"Leave the goods. Walk away."
A pause.
His eyes sharpened.
"And this ends like nothing ever happened."
The villagers held their breath.
Even Mason felt it—that invisible pressure in the air, like something heavy was pressing down on everyone at once.
The thieves exchanged glances.
Then one of them stepped forward.
The leader.
A tall man with a scar cutting across his cheek, his grip firm around the axe resting on his shoulder. His lips curled into a mocking grin as his eyes locked onto Chad.
"So… it's you."
He chuckled, shaking his head slightly.
"I've heard about you. A demon slayer, right?"
He took a step closer.
"Maybe even a high-ranking one."
The other thieves smirked behind him, confidence creeping back into their posture.
"But let's be real…"
He spread his arms slightly, gesturing to the group behind him.
"You might be strong when you're hunting demons…"
His grin widened.
"But you're not a match for seven men."
A few of the thieves laughed under their breath.
Mason's jaw tightened.
Chad didn't react.
Not a word.
Not a movement.
That silence…
It unsettled them more than any threat.
Then—
One of the thieves at the back glanced away.
His eyes landed on the crowd.
Scanning.
Searching.
Until—
He saw her.
The girl who had shouted.
"…There she is."
Becca.
Standing just beyond the villagers.
One hand resting instinctively over her stomach.
Frozen.
Fear in her eyes.
The thief's expression twisted into something ugly.
Without warning—
He raised his axe.
And hurled it.
"NO—!"
The crowd gasped.
The axe spun violently through the air, cutting straight toward Becca.
Everything seemed to slow.
Mason's eyes widened.
The villagers screamed.
Becca couldn't move.
And Chad—
Looked.
For the first time…
His composure broke.
Then—
He vanished.
A sharp gust of wind cracked through the space he stood—
And in the next instant—
He was above the spinning axe.
Midair.
Perfectly aligned.
His hand shot out—
GRIP.
He caught it clean.
Still spinning.
Still deadly.
His body rotated with it, controlling the momentum in a single, fluid motion—
Then—
WHOOSH!
He flung it back.
Not at the man's head—
But just past him.
The blade sliced the air beside the thief's face, close enough for him to feel death brush against his skin—
Before it slammed into the wall behind with a violent THUD.
Silence.
The thief froze.
Eyes wide.
A thin line of blood slowly traced down his cheek.
He hadn't even realized it had cut him.
Chad dropped to the ground.
Soft.
Controlled.
But the impact echoed.
Different now.
Everything felt different.
He stood there…
Head slightly lowered.
Eyes shadowed.
When he spoke, his voice had changed.
Colder.
Heavier.
"…I see."
A step forward.
"I gave you a choice."
Another step.
"You could have walked away."
The air tightened.
Mason felt it in his chest.
The villagers stepped back instinctively.
Chad lifted his gaze.
And this time—
There was no restraint in his eyes.
"You chose the second option."
A pause.
Then—
A faint exhale.
"I'll take that as your answer."
His grip tightened.
His presence exploded outward—silent, but overwhelming.
"Now…"
His voice dropped.
Dangerously calm.
"You've chosen the wrong village."
Another step.
"Let's see what you can do about it."
The seven thieves stiffened.
For the first time—
They felt it.
Not confidence.
Not arrogance.
Fear.
And the fight…
Was no longer in their control.