The three Montreas look at Cecil with doubtful looks.

“The who?” Norman asks.

Never did he hear of any bandits named “Red Hook” or even normal groups called like that. They must be new to this land if they even dare to step foot and cause trouble in the village. Rosenvolt doesn't take kindly to anyone that intrudes its territories, and if said group is currently invading their village, they'd have to hide their asses really well or they'd risk turning into monster food.

“The Red Hook!” Cecil says, worried. “They have already began harassing the people! Even Stan got caught and was taken hostage!”

“What?! Stan? That idiot!”

Norman hurried towards the door, stopping short as he was about to go out.

“Martha.”

“I know Norman.”

Norman nods.

“Cecil, get in there.”

Cecil complies and gets herself and Misha inside the house along with Martha and Aren. Misha’s face tells Aren that she’s confused as to what’s happening, and he’ll have to react like her if he’s going to convince everyone that he’s still the real Aren. Unfortunately for him, curiousity is starting to creep on his back when things get increasingly tense in the atmosphere in the house. Right when he was about to speak up, Martha took a step forward.

“Cecil, take care of Aren will you?”

“Okay. Stay safe please.”

Martha smiled, before rushing off outside to catch up to Norman. Aren’s left with the other two inside their house. “WHAT ARE YOU DOIIIIING?!”

Aren frantically panics believing that he’s now in great danger. The only people he knows that are capable of protecting them was Norman and possibly Martha, but now they’re gone and they have become vulnerable if ever the bandits decide to come the house. He couldn’t keep his composure and started running around, not knowing what to do. Cecil tried her best to calm Aren down while holding Misha. Misha is also getting affected by Aren’s panicking, tearing up as her child brain could not keep up with the current situation.

“Aren! Please calm down!”

Aren stops, and immediately gave Cecil a look. A light bulb popped over his head, prompting him to use Jack’s Eye on her to check if she’s capable.

General Info Name: Cecil Joman Affiliation: None Level: 10 Age: 27 Gender: Female

Jobs Villager Apothecary

“I’m doomed!”

His legs gave out and went on all fours in defeat. Cecil wasn’t able to calm the fetal positioned Aren down as he cries in anxiety. Now she has two children to calm down seeing that Misha too started to cry after seeing her friend on the ground silently wailing. Anxiously out of his mind, all he could do is stay in place and wait for rescue.

Meanwhile, Norman arrives at the village center, where there seems to be a number of bandits doing bandit things. A few of them rode horses and stayed in the middle holding a few of the villagers as hostages. No matter he hard he looked, he couldn’t find Stan in the group of hostages. Though he’s not here for Stan only.

“All of you. What are you doing to our village?”

He called out to the bandits on the horses. All of them gave Norman the glance that is normally reserved for cocky and arrogant arsehats. One of the bandits made his horse step up with a prideful look on his misshapen, scarful face. He wore what seems to be leather armor, and a blood red tattered robe accompanied by his red bandit cap. For a bandit, he surprisingly resemble a noble specially with the wooden staff he wield on his right hand. He opens his mouth to speak.

“Huh? Who the hell are you?”

His voice reeks of arrogance, contributing to Norman’s swelling anger. Though he should be able to deal with this kind of guy through his experience, an entirely different story is told through his Berserker job.

“Get out before I boot your face in.”

Norman threatened the group, glaring at them with intensity. Although few of the bandits recoiled, the one who seems to be the leader shrugged it off with a laugh. The other then followed after realizing that there’s no need to fear with their leader here.

“Are you kidding me? What are you gonna do? Shave your beard menacingly?”

The leader let out another laugh, making the others follow in response. Norman’s veins started to bulge from his forehead.

“This is your last warning. Walk away, or get your bones broken.”

The leader stopped laughing and looked down on Norman, clicking his tongue and pointing his staff at him.

“Let’s see if you could still talk like that after this. Burrow!”

The earth opened and swallowed Norman halfway through his body, getting him stuck on the ground. Chuckling, the bandit leader tapped his staff on his shoulder, grinning on his accomplishment against Norman.

“Now look what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

Norman stayed there, quiet.

“Cut his head off. This’ll teach him not to talk like that to the great Kail of the Red Hook!”

All of the bandits chanted his name as one of them draws his sword and got near to Norman. Norman stayed absolutely stayed still as the bandit approached him. The bandit readied his sword, aiming at Norman’s neck and intending to swing at full force. Unable to do anything with them being tied in a rope, the hostages could do nothing but to anticipate Norman’s impending execution.

“Bye bye, old man.”

The deed was done.

*Kashing*

But the sword broke right after it hit Norman’s neck, as well as the bandit’s face. The air wheezed as the bandit went flying to the sky, falling down after a while and landing on the roof of a nearby house. The bandits had their jaws agape, trailing the flying bandit before their eyes before looking at the perpetrator. Norman’s fist was raised and bloodied as he looked at the intruders with bloodlust. He punched so fast that they could only see the bandit fly first before they could see his fist swinging. Apart from that, the ground hold also seems to be broken. Not that he wasn’t free before, but Norman is now clearly saying that the leader’s spell wasn’t effective at keeping him at bay.

“W-what?”

Perturbed, Kail could only utter a single word as Norman slowly climbs out of the ground like a hot knife cutting through butter. His neck and knuckles cracks as he readies himself for a complete beatdown on the visibly deterred bandits. He stops short after a few steps, inhaling deep.

“WHO ARE YOU CALLING OLD, JACKASS?!”

The last straw was drawn when his inevitable fate was brought upon the table, prompting the old man to lash out. Bursting out in a yell of anger as a tear drops from his eye, he lets out his frustration by giving that bandit the good ‘ol punch to the face. He looked at Kail with such intensity that one could say Norman’s trying to shoot a laser beam from his eyes.

Kail, however, refused to let himself get scared by some bulky old man.

“Get him! Ability Boost!”

His staff glowed orange as sparkles engulf all of the bandits with an increase in power, encouraging all of them back up again. Screaming their own battle cries, the ground bandits charged at Norman with all their might with their swords drawn and brandished on the air. Unfortunately for them, one by one they fell from Norman’s iron fists smacking them left and directly to their faces, shattering their swords whenever they block or parry. Although his height is only slightly taller than most of the bandits, they could only perceive him as a giant monster slowly making its way towards their leader.

“Attack without fail! Ability Boost! Bind!”

Kail refreshed the Ability Boost, and shot a bright yellow projectile from his staff which hit Norman clean. The projectile immediately wrapped itself on Norman, forming a net-like hindrance on him.

“He’s bound! He won’t be able to touch you!”

With that info, the bandits once again rushed at him, this time using their skills.

“Dual Slash!”

“Butterfly Dance!”

“Bullet Point!”

Norman, who’s mobility was somewhat impaired, was sick of the unbelievably futile attempts on his life. He breathed deeply, and with all his might, yelled at the top of his lungs.

“YOU ALL BETTER START PRAYING NOW!”

His roar caused a shockwave of sound that knocked everyone in the area down, prompting them to cover their ears due to how absurdly loud it is. Kail, who didn’t expect something like that to happen, fell from his high horse in intense ear-splitting pain as he covers his ears. He was practically at brink of fainting, but he persevered and forced himself to keep his consciousness. When he came to, he could only see his bandits get tossed from one place to another like some used towels as the giant gets closer to him..

“S-shit! Dragon’s Flame!”

Finally deciding to use his most powerful attack, his staff intensely glowed red as he channels the spell with utmost focus. Norman however wasn’t worried and kept his pace approaching Kail. Kail then released the spell in a devastating line of fire, shooting out a dragon’s head made out of fire as he pours all the mana he could into it. The dragon’s head had a clean hit on Norman, exploding into a fiery blaze and setting the surrounding area on fire. Victory’s sure to be had.

“Did you just really use a powerful fire spell…”

Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem that way. Norman was still standing, unscathed, the culprit for his untouched health being a faint blue bubble shield surrounding over him.

“...on a place full of houses?!”

Kail falls down on his back, desperately dragging himself away from Norman as he approaches him. He has no more mana left for anything useful, and with that, no more mental stamina to keep himself together. A heavy pressure piles up on him with his expression turning more grim and hopeless, as if he was about to be eaten by a horrifying monster that no one could fathom. He’s dead, and he knows it.

“Do you have any idea what you could have caused if someone wasn’t there to prevent it spreading?”

Kail glances over to the nearby houses, only to find out they too are protected by a shield bubble. Every single one of them. He couldn’t believe his eyes, since it was even impossible for him to generate a bubble shield that big. The most he could do was as big as a fist, and that only had the sturdiness of ordinary glass. However, someone managed to cover every house in the area with a bubble shield so strong that it actually protected them from his Dragon’s Flame, a spell known for its devastating area of effect that can burn even mana. This was a scene he could not even start comprehending.

“T-the hostages! Yeah! If you come any closer, we’ll kill them!”

Kail declared, prompting the remaining bandits near the hostages to take a hold of them. Their hands shook and faces clearly filled with dread, but this is their only chance of getting out of here alive. Kail found the strength to stand back up, albeit wobbly, and backpedaled to the hostages with is staff held out, pointing at Norman. A quivering grin forms on his face, as he looks at Norman with loathing.

“What now, huh?”

Norman stood there, eyebrows burrowed and fists open. His body relaxes with the understanding that the bandits are no longer a threat. They are shaken and intimidated by him, and that’s enough to give him an opportunity. The bubble shield around him faded and disappeared completely in glimmering dusts of blue.

“Stan, I heard you were capturedI What the hell were you thinking?!”

Silence befell then after, making Kail look around in anticipation. Nothing happened.

“What are you talking abo-”

“Uwah!”

Kail immediately looks behind him only to find his men suddenly dropping down one by one, their falls marked with a scream of pain. The event transpired blindingly fast that not even the bandits were able to take the life of one hostage before being taken down. The ropes binding the hostages were cut immediately after the last one fell, setting them all free with no bandits around to hold them down.

One thing after another happened, with Kail finally starting to break on his only chance being taken away. He fell down to his knees, feeling defeated and hopeless. His men are either knocked out or dead, he has no more mana, and the only thing he has going for him now is his staff, the only thing in his collection that wasn’t taken in misdeed.

“Terrible isn’t it?”

Kail jumped back in surprise and fell down, but was too exhausted mentally to even care on getting himself away from the source of the voice behind him. What stood before him was a very short old man, who had the wrinkled time-old face and white river-like beard of a wise elder who had probably lived a life that stretched far more than a normal human could have. With him only came a dirty brown robe, sandals that fully wrap his feet and raises him a bit taller, and a wooden cane he leans on for support. The shine from his bald head mocks Kail.

“Young lads, but too bad I had to end them. Such fine potential wasted on pointless errands such as this.”

His words rang inside Kail’s head, making it clear for him that this man was the one who set the hostages free and jumped on his men. He finally broke, and fainted from too much stress and mana deprivation. The old man clicks his tongue in disappointment, putting his palm in front of him to offer a prayer to Kail. The hostages got their stuff together, and began working to put out the fire that has been since roaring around them. What happened was to be put aside and getting the fire out was top priority. The houses are still safe due to the bubble shields, but none of them knows how long they will last.

“Stan!”

Amongst the crackles of flames penetrated a familiar booming voice.

“Ah, Norman. Why were you late?”

Norman’s face was that of frustration and anger, though more childlike than his previous rage over the bandits. He stomped his way towards Stan who was stroking his magnificent beard in anticipation of Norman’s arrival. Norman stopped close in front of Stan, and prepared his lungs to give him a piece of his mind. He had to lean down to level his head with Stan’s.

“Late?! LATE?! You fell asleep again didn’t you?! What would’ve happened if they decided to just kill everybody?”

The perk of being constantly around a loud person such as this one is the ability to hear it in a normal voice rather than a large speaker speaking at you in full volume. It’s either that, or Stan’s age is starting to turn his ear upside down. Bonking someone on the head was hardly what Stan wanted to do, but he did it anyway on Norman. Norman looked at him blankly with the cane on his head.

“You should know better than anyone else that they couldn’t have intruded…”

Stan takes away his cane, looking at Norman dead in the eyes with cold and nefarious intent.

“...much less live if they had every intent on destroying this village, no?”

Norman straightens out, rubbing his head as he looks at Stan looking at the former-hostages-villagers doing their best to put out the significantly weaker fire.

“Besides, there was no casualties in our side, is there? I say this is much of a victory like any.”

“He’s right Norman.”

Martha approaches the two, before waving her hands to make the shields disappear since the fire isn’t a threat anymore.

“Though I have to agree with him, Stan. You are the only one here who could sense people from quars away. Falling asleep would cause you to be unable to do that, right?”

“That’s where you’re wrong, missy. Bloodlust does not escape my radar.”

Stan explains to Martha. She and Norman has been with him for years, but neither of them fully knew his abilities, so he had to give explanations once in a while to prove what he can and can’t do. Though admittedly he fell asleep because none of the bandits had bloodlust, and only sought to ransack the village rather than completely destroy it and kill everyone. He only woke up when Kail wanted to have Norman’s head, but even so, he knew that Norman’s body could take a sword without a scratch. The only moment where he absolutely had to interfer is when the hostages was finally threatened.

“Even so, you shouldn’t fall asleep durin-”

“Which of us have lived far longer, I wonder?”

Norman grumbles while Martha pats his back to calm him down.

“Oh! That reminds me, where’s the young boy now?”

Back at the house, the room was unnaturally quiet with Cecil sitting on a long chair on the side of the living room.

“Mommy, are we okay?”

Misha was hugging her tightly on her right, looking at her with worried eyes. She gently rubbed her head as she reassure her.

“We’re going to be fine, Misha. Norman and Martha is out there, so don’t worry. And Aren…”

On her left was Aren, embracing her so tight that she’s starting to have problems with breathing. He was shaking with eyes full of worry and paranoia.

“Could you please ease a little bit? Your parents will come back, I promise.”

But he couldn’t, and it only made him hug her even closer and tighter to him. “I’m going to die.” Just as Cecil was about to accept her fate, Norman came back, slamming the door open.

“Aren, you’re fine!”

Norman exclaimed, happy that his son is still full of life.

“No I’m not!”

Aren suddenly retorted, clearly feeling opposite of Norman, which made him recoil. Martha was behind Norman, peeking out from his back. She only realized now that it was foolish to leave her son in the house. She thought it was a good idea since she silently casted a protection spell over the three, but she didn’t consider her son’s mental state when she left.

“You left ush here! What if the baddiesh came?”

Aren came down from his chair and approached the two, stopping halfway. Martha clearly looked ashamed and disappointed on herself. Norman kept quiet, but Martha was shaking with distress from her son’s tone. Norman noticed this, and tried to calm Aren down.

“Aren, you’re making your mother-”

“I wash shcared you know! I wash afraid!”

Aren was starting to not act like his age. Boys like him usually just cry and run towards their parents if they felt distraught, but he instead stood and complained to his parents. This made them feel incompetent as parents, feeling as if they failed Aren. Cecil and Misha could only watch from the back as Aren shakes in frustration from his parents’ ignorance.

Aren isn’t exactly in the best shape in his mind. The normally “think first before talking” him is currently being overwhelmed by his fear and anxiety, appropriately so since he is just a child and he knows that he could not win a fight with anyone. Being left alone with an adult who may not be capable of protecting him and a vulnerable girl while in the vicinity of a dangerous situation was sure to snap him.

“What were you thinking?!”

Martha couldn’t keep herself together anymore, and rushed to Aren to embrace him tightly, her tears overflowing her eyes.

“I’m sorry Aren! I’m sorry! Please forgive your mother! I’m really sorry!”

Aren bites his lower lip trying to keep himself from crying, but the tears were just too powerful to hold back. He looks at Norman, which made him try to open his mouth to say something, but withdrawn instead. Martha continued to repeatedly apologize. Norman could only think that they failed him twice already, and it took a big hit on his heart. He couldn’t bare to see Aren look at him with such angry and scared eyes. He couldn’t protect him physically before, now he couldn’t protect him mentally. Just as he was about to walk away, Aren talked.

“Don’t try to walk away, dad.”

He turned around to look at Aren, who’s expression is now that of sorrow and longing.

“Stay. Dad, mom. Pleash.”

He was about to do something stupid again. Leaving the house to calm himself was stupid. If there’s one thing he doesn’t want, it would be making his son sad. So, for this time until the end, he must give him what he could not gain back in those years. He joined the two in an embrace full of love, as Aren finally hugged back the two, sobbing on their shoulders. Martha finally stopped her apologizing, and gave the turn for Norman.

“I’m sorry, Aren. I swear I will not leave you again.”

Cecil sighs with relief, holding her chest that had finally relaxed after being so tense watching the family from the back with Misha. Stan stands outside the door having witnessed the event in all its entirety. He strokes his beard as he grinned and chuckled.

“Interesting.”

The Montreas, though bad in some things, love for each other was something they strongly had. Such thing was evident by their relationship as even though Aren complained and saw the two as strangers, he fell asleep on his mother’s arms completely at ease. Never did he thought that he could develop an attachment to people he only met for a few days.

On that day, the parents swore to do their best for their son. After all, they could never win against him if he ever complained again.