'Any survivors?' asked one of them, a tall male with a stern face and a katana hilt peeking over his shoulder.
'Not even an ant,' replied another, a female with braided hair, her voice tinged with disappointment as she scanned the ruins.
'Hmph, must be a really strong demon,' the first one muttered, kicking a piece of debris.
I crept closer to get a good look, my curiosity overriding my fear for a moment. Were they Katsuo's servants? Their ears twitched as if sensing something, and I froze. But then I stumbled over a loose root and fell right in between them with a thud. I looked up, and everyone was staring at me! It scared the death out of me! Damn it! Their eyes—sharp and alien—bore into me, and I felt like a mouse caught in a trap.
'You said there wasn't an ant,' one elf growled, his hand twitching toward his weapon.
'I don't know where this child came from!' another snapped, her rifle half-raised.
'Hey, little fella,' said a female elf, her voice soft and melodic, like wind through ancient leaves. She knelt down, her silver hair shimmering in the dim light of the ruined village, her pointed ears twitching with curiosity. She was the one with the braided hair, her black uniform adorned with silver insignia that looked like wings. 'Did you live here? We found this place in ruins, and you're the only one left standing.'
I didn't answer. My throat was tight, choked with fear and grief. I looked around at the shattered huts, the bloodstained earth, and the flickering torches the elves carried. Pretending to be out cold, I shifted my toe just a fraction—barely a wiggle. It nudged a loose stone on the uneven ground, sending it rolling downhill with a soft clatter. The pebble tumbled right onto one of their flaming sticks, propped carelessly against a charred log. The stick snapped under the impact, sparks erupting as the flame sputtered out in a puff of acrid smoke.
The elf holding it yelped in surprise, stumbling back as the others turned, their eyes widening. In that heartbeat of chaos, with their attention diverted, I lunged. My small hand darted out, fingers wrapping around the grip of a sleek, enchanted pistol holstered at the lead elf's belt—a relic from the old wars, humming faintly with arcane energy. I yanked it free, the weight cold and unfamiliar in my palm, and rolled into a crouch, heart hammering.
I held it up at them, my arms trembling but steady enough. All of them froze, their faces paling beneath the intricate tattoos that marked them as warriors of the Wing Corp. Fear flickered in their eyes—as I saw it, raw and undeniable—and I scraped my fingers nervously along the trigger, the metal clicking ominously.
'WHO ARE YOU, AND HOW DID YOU ENTER!' I shouted, my voice cracking like a whip in the silence of the night. It echoed off the ruins, sounding braver than I felt.
'Wow! Kid, keep that gun down,' said one of them, a burly male elf with a scar across his cheek, raising his hands slowly. His voice was calm, but his eyes darted to the weapon, assessing the threat. 'You don't want to hurt anyone, do you? We're not the enemy here.'
'NEVER!' I retorted, tears blurring my vision. I didn't lower the gun, my finger hovering over the trigger. Memories of Mom's bloodied form flashed in my mind, fueling my defiance.
'Cool down, kid! We're not here to hurt you,' another chimed in, a younger elf with braided hair, stepping forward cautiously. She had a kind face, despite the katana at her hip. 'Put it away before someone gets hurt. That pistol's loaded with elven fire—could burn a hole through a mountain if you're not careful.'
I kept it up, defiance burning through my fear. Tears flowed from my eyes, hot and relentless. I didn't know what it was because of—the searing pain in my side from a glancing wound I hadn't noticed until now, or the crushing loss of my family, slaughtered in an instant. The world spun, but I held firm, my red hair matted with sweat and ash.
'OK, kid! We are High Wings of the Wing Corp!' the female elf said, her tone soothing, as if talking to a wild animal. 'We're scouts from the Elven Enclave, sent to investigate disturbances in the borderlands. We mean no harm. Our job is to protect places like this from threats… like demons.'
'I know you are elves, but why are you here?' I demanded, my voice wavering. The gun felt heavier now, but I couldn't let go. What if they were lying? What if Katsuo had sent them?
'We just want to know what happened here! This village was supposed to be peaceful,' she replied, gesturing to the devastation around us. 'Who did this? Was it bandits? Monsters? Tell us, and we can help.'
'Ok, Mr. Elf... OK, I don't know! I was having dinner with my family when a random person named Katsuo came and killed everyone!' The words tumbled out, raw and broken. Memories flashed: the laughter at the table, the sudden shadow, the screams. I dropped the gun with a clatter, the metal hitting the dirt as I sank to my knees, my red hair falling like a curtain over my tear-streaked face. Exhaustion hit me like a wave, and I sobbed, the grief pouring out uncontrollably.
'Wait... Katsuo?' the scarred elf echoed, his voice dropping to a whisper. He exchanged glances with the others, their expressions shifting from surprise to alarm.
'Yes,' I mumbled, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand.
'Lord Katsuo?' he pressed, his tone urgent now.
'What?' I looked up, confusion cutting through my grief. Who was this guy? Just some psycho with a sword?
'Demon King Katsuo!' the female elf exclaimed, her eyes widening in horror. 'You're saying he was here? The Demon King himself? That's… impossible. He hasn't been seen in centuries.'
'Excuse me, WHAAAAAAT?' I blurted, my mind reeling. Demon King? Katsuo? The elves' faces turned grim, and I realized my world had just shattered even further. Demons?Kings? What kind of nightmare had I stumbled into?
'Ummmmm,' I mumbled, still dazed from the whirlwind of revelations. My mind spun like a leaf in a storm—Demon King Katsuo, elves from some Wing Corp, and now this? I rubbed my eyes, trying to process it all, my red hair sticking to my sweaty forehead. Questions piled up: If Katsuo was a demon king, what did that make me? A target? And these elves—were they really here to help, or was this all some elaborate trap?
'Ok, kid,' said the female elf, her voice gentle but insistent, crouching down to my level. Her silver eyes gleamed with a mix of concern and curiosity, like she was piecing together a long-lost puzzle. 'What's your name? We need to know who we're dealing with here. It could be important.'
'Fogo, Tom Fogo,' I replied hesitantly, my voice small and shaky. It felt weird saying it out loud after everything that had happened—my family gone, my home in ashes. I wasn't sure why it mattered, but the air seemed to thicken with anticipation, as if my name held some hidden power.