The elf girl was dragged along among the bandits of the place. None of them seemed to pay attention to her; no matter how much she tried to kick and scream, everything seemed in vain.

Her body was still weak. Perhaps every hit she delivered was nothing more than a caress for several of those men in studded armor. The one carrying her was also cautious; he forced the girl's jaw closed, making her unable to bite the hand with which he was muffling her.

Finally, she was directed towards tents, where the one who kidnapped her released her and threw her inside.

"Get in there, quick!" exclaimed that man almost in a muttered mumble.

The elven girl staggered and fell to the ground. Unable to stand, she was slowly panicking.

When she raised her gaze, fear grew in her.

At the tent entrance stood that drunken bandit she had beaten minutes before.

"Well, we don't have much time," exclaimed that fellow, turning his eyes away from the place to make sure no one had followed them, "I don't know what the hell you're doing here."

The man turned to the girl, who was trying to stand with her knife in hand.

The shaggy-looking fellow watched him casually, "What are you doing?"

"What are YOU doing?" she blurted out with difficulty, holding her knife like a dagger, "Are you seeking revenge? Are you planning to do something to me?"

"Calm down, you're overreacting..."

"Shut up!" she shouted, holding her knife tightly. However, her grip waned after a few seconds, unable to hold firm.

The man watched the akajsi girl in frustration, bringing both hands to his waist.

"Look, if it's about the punch, I'm not mad, okay?" that man began serenely, "but we don't have time. I must get you and your friend out of this place as soon as possible."

At a look that slowly turned from defiance to disbelief, the marked girl watched as the man slid his hand in front of his face, altering it entirely. The man with the scruffy beard, dirty appearance, and black hair was now blond and tidy. The girl watched as not only his face changed and his long hair changed to a golden color, but also his clothing; the black, worn armor he wore was now a brown one, much more neatly kept.

The man saw the look on the girl's face, who was still too much in disbelief, and it brought a smile.

"Easy girl, you're among friends..."

The man took off his right glove and showed the back of his hand.

The man was marked like her, like her friend.

The girl lowered her shoulders, unable to continue in that firm position, and vaguely felt she could finally relax.

"We don't have much time. Your friend has gotten himself into a big mess," explained the man, who soon noticed a detail. A brief silence flooded the place, making him hurry out of the tent.

"Wait!" exclaimed the girl, following him.

The man slipped between several empty tents until he saw the circle of bandits that had formed. The elven girl went after him.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Hide; that cloak of yours makes you very visible," The man forced her into a crouch, trying to hide her. The man also hid cautiously, watching where the combat was wrought.

Suddenly, they watched as the thieves moved away from where the prisoners were.

"Oh, no..." the man predicted what would happen.

The girl watched as one of the jailers dropped his weapon on a prisoner's neck, decapitating him in a single, powerful slash. She gasped in surprise but soon went into a rage.

"We have to do something!" she shouted.

"Keep your voice down!" the man spat between his teeth, covering her mouth with his hand.

The girl abruptly removed the man's hand from her face and glared hatefully at him.

"I know damn well we must do something, so hold yourself. If you think I can throw myself in there and commit a massacre, you're crazy," the man sighed as he watched the circle of bandits slowly close again. Then, he heard a cry of pain. It was not that of a young boy, as the marked boy was, but an adult.

"Shit," he exclaimed, rushing to devise a plan. "Do you have a name?"

The akajsi girl looked at him in confusion for a few moments. Then she shook her head.

"Oh, great. This is all I was missing. I'm sure the kid doesn't have a name either. You must both be very green..."

The man took a breath and squeezed the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

"What's yours?" the girl asked.

"Ronan," he exclaimed, "Ronan of Vilna." After answering him, the man took a look around the camp. The stables, the tents, the stockade, "Well, I guess I'll have to act unorthodox. Girl, you know you're an akajsi, right?"

"That's the term for 'pointy-eared demon,' right?"

"The sweetest nickname for your kind," the man said with a sneer, "Can you talk to animals?" he asked once more.

"I think so."

"Well, that's something," Ronan exclaimed and soon looked at the girl, "Are you hurt?" he asked.

"Poisoned," she replied. However, her condition was still weak.

"This job can't get any harder..." snorted Ronan, exhausted, "I'll take you with me. We'll go to the corral with the horses first, then I'll need your bow," Ronan pointed out, formulating his plan.

"What are you planning to do?" she asked suspiciously.

Ronan grabbed the marked girl by her shoulder; he did so firmly, noticing how she didn't like to be touched.

"I'm going to do some chaos..."

Ronan reached out his hand, and it disappeared as he passed it close to her face. Then, slowly her body began to do so, and then, it was the akajsi girl's turn.

At that instant, the only thing remaining of them was their footprints sunk in the mud.

The marked boy's face of panic and pain was so notorious that Refer read the kid quickly. He was traumatized. What he did, had a terrible consequence.

"Why?" a soft question escaped his lips. His voice echoed the lump in his throat, the boy's eyes were moist, and his body felt weak and heavy.

The marked boy fell to his knees, and the soldier at his feet cowered back in fear as the rest of his companions shouted and laughed.

"What are you doing, worm?" shouted one of those heavily armored bandits to the terrified one, "Come on, you just need a knockout punch."

The fearful bandit watched his companion, then turned to look at the marked kid. Tears flowed down his cheeks as his eyes seemed to stare into the void. He wore a scowl of pain on his face and seemed to be immobile. Suffering seemed to have paralyzed him.

"Get out of the way," the bandit shouted in annoyance, walking over to where the marked boy stood, "If you're not going to do it, I'll take the trophy."

With sword in hand, he advanced with heavy steps toward the dark-skinned boy.

His companions were cheering him on, shouting and clamoring for that coup de grace. Swaggering and egotistical, the bandit raised both arms, encouraging the crowd for more cheers.

"Take this, demon!" the bandit shouted, drowned out by the helmet.

In one swift movement, he raised his sword, planning to lunge at the kid's neck with a single thrust.

However, that would never happen.

With an agonized cry, he grabbed the sharp point of the spear he had broken and buried the blade against the bandit's knee with brutal force. The man's scream of pain seemed to pierce through his helmet.

The bandit fell with his other knee to the ground, but he was not yet defeated. To hit the boy, he swung his ax at him.

The boy dodged it with incredible dexterity and, blinded by fury, threw a fierce punch against the guy's face. The bandit's helmet dented, and the man fell on his back, stunned by that ferocious blow.

Instead of being terrified by what happened, the bandits shouted and encouraged even more violence, for the marked boy was not half the size of that fellow.

"Well, kid," Refer expressed, attentive to the situation, "I think you know what you should do now..."

The marked boy remained standing, his face streaked with tears, unable to move forward.

The bandit chief leaned against the wooden railing from where he watched the spectacle. It would happen again.

Once again, Refer ordered his men to make room, and the executioner, this time, was ready. Finally, it was the turn of Ruelle, Samson's son.

"Too bad, boy," Refer expressed, "You came for him, and maybe you'll take his body--"

A scream interrupted Refer's words. Then, in the blink of an eye, the marked boy grabbed the sword of the badly wounded thief at his feet.

The sword flew after he threw it. Unable to react in time, the sharp weapon pierced the executioner, falling a couple of meters back from the momentum.

Refer had not anticipated that, and on his face, that was noticeable. He quickly looked at his second champion and motioned with his head and a firm look to charge the kid.

Dubitative, the man had no choice and soon charged with his weapon in hand. The boy did not hesitate and charged at him as well. Blinded by fury, the boy screamed as he lunged at the man with incredible speed.

Unable to land a clash with his sword, the bandit slashed in the air as the kid whirled around him. When he saw his chance, the marked one gave a brutal kick against the man's bare legs, and his bones cracking could be heard. Already on the ground, the boy stole the Refer champion's sword and buried it in his chest. The last thing the bandit saw was the kid's face full of tears and intense yellow eyes looking at him full of fury.

Refer watched the situation with some disbelief. However, he did not plan to leave it at that.

"Men! Get him!"

"Refer!" shouted one of his men, pointing to the watchtower.

The tower was burning as his men in it tried to save themselves by jumping into the void. Some tents were also burning, as was part of the defense.

Amid the shouting and fun, their camp began to burn.

Quickly, Refer heard a shout among his men, for the boy had not stood idly by, and now he was the one attacking them.

"Kill him!" shouted Refer cholericly.

Several of his men tried to tackle him, but the boy, blinded by anger and pain, proved to be a more significant opponent.

"The horses!" shouted one of the bandits. The corral had been opened. The horses, frightened and courageous, assaulted their former owners with kicks.

The situation was chaos, uncontrolled anarchy. Refer did what someone like him ilk would do.

"Let's get out of here!" he ordered several of his men nearby.

"Give me that!" he shouted to one of his men, stealing his crossbow from his hands. He didn't plan to shoot the marked one.

During the chaos, he watched as the farmer and his men took the opportunity to move toward where the prisoners were. They saw their chance with disorder, fire, and men running all over the place.

The man had him in range. So he could see how Samson was untying him.

Suddenly an incredible pain struck his hand. Refer fired the crossbow, but the hand he was aiming for his weapon was pierced by a dagger, and the crossbow's bolt hit the ground.

Ronan appeared in the blink of an eye on the battlefield. Refer saw him for an instant and fled cowardly, unable to continue there.

The man with long blond hair lowered the light-as-a-feather akajsi girl from his back.

"You go with the farmers. I'll take care of your friend," ordered Ronan.

The girl watched her traveling companion, and her eyes widened when she saw the massacre.

At least a dozen men lay dead, and those fighting against him did not seem to be fighting for orders but for survival. Those who saw an opportunity to flee did so, but the marked kid would catch up with them with some weapon on the ground.

"What is he doing?" asked the marked girl.

"It's not his fault. Go! Now!" shouted his order to the girl, who hurried to the prisoners.

Ronan approached the boy cautiously. Although the scarred boy was wounded, with several minor cuts on his body, he wielded the weapons of the fallen that he used against the rest of the thieves.

"Scram!" he shouted at the thieves as the marked man rushed up behind the kid.

The boy abruptly turned on Ronan, grabbed him by one of his arms, and went straight for his neck. He violently threw him to the ground, and at that moment, a crunching sound was heard in the man's bones.

Ronan groaned as the kid now tried to stab him with a stolen sword. Ronan spun on the ground and swiftly got to his feet. Then he saw the marked boy swing his sword at him and must have used his knives to deflect the blows.

"Stop!" shouted Ronan incessantly. Finally, the man saw how the boy had yellow eyes, and his gaze seemed blinded, "That's it, stop!" he shouted once more. He tried to calm the kid down.

The boy screamed furiously as each blow broke Ronan's lair, and he had to dodge it again. The man gritted his teeth as he saw his options cut short. He was going to regret that.

Ronan slid his hand in front of his face swiftly and disappeared from the boy's gaze. Then, in that moment of hesitation from the marked kid, he stabbed of his forearms.

The boy cried out in pain but dropped his weapon just like that. Ronan reappeared after his attack and rushed with him to the ground.

During that chaos, bodies, and blood, the akajsi girl had ordered the horses to attack their owners and then flee from there.

Ronan did his own thing by making several fires focused while everyone was distracted except his victims.

"Enough! It's over!" shouted Ronan, wrapping his arms around the kid.

"No!" shouted the boy in desperation and fury, "They're still alive!" the kid crawled on the ground, trying to shake Ronan off.

The marked man's strength was no match for that boy's. However, his persuasion and his lip were better.

"Don't become the monster they want!" shouted Ronan repeatedly.

Almost as if those words were the words needed to calm the beast, the boy soon stopped resisting, but it was then that his crying became more intense.

Ronan was able to sit down on the muddy ground with the kid. The monster that emerged from those men was once again a frightened, crying boy.

"I am a monster," the marked kid said, seeking safety in the man's arms.

The man embraced him. Even though the situation around him was still in chaos, the boy needed someone's calm in that tiny instant.

"It's going to be all right, kid. It's all over..."