...
"De" took a step back.. silent, like the stillness that precedes a cliff's collapse.
His eyes, void of any spark, followed the faint ripples on the horizon.
Something was coming.
The fog shifted slightly...
And from within the folds of shadow, a man emerged.
He wasn't large, nor the towering brute one might expect from a beast of the wild..
But every fiber of his being screamed danger.
His skin had a grey, ashen tone. His half-closed eyes mocked everything they saw.
His disheveled hair draped over his shoulders, as if it hadn't felt water for centuries.
But what truly distinguished him...
Was something unseen.
The First Realm.
Late Order.
Where those who've outlived their welcome are sent.. to survive or die standing.
He laughed softly. A short chuckle, like someone who'd heard a filthy joke.
His voice was coarse, as if gravel slept in his throat:
"Hmph… Some ants thought they could knock on my door? How bold."
"Roi's" eyes widened.
"Mi" raised her sword in silence.
"Ling" reached for his spear, breath heavy.
They all felt it.. that aura.
It wasn't just pressure. It was the slowing of time, the weight of the world, as if everything froze to force them to look.
But it wasn't over.
Behind him, the shadows reformed.
Two more figures emerged.
They didn't appear as subordinates.
They weren't waiting for orders.
They stood beside him the way death stands beside plague.
Same aura.
Same depth.
Same rank.. Late Order of the First Realm.
The three stood like a wall.
They didn't speak.
They didn't breathe.
They only watched.
And in the middle of it all...
"De" watched as well. But his eyes... held not a speck of fear.
...
The aura emanating from the bandit leader wasn't just a show.
It was tangible..
As if the air around him thickened, saturated with terror.
Though he belonged to the First Realm, anyone with true perception could feel..
His feet nearly grazed the Second.
"This... is unlike any leader we've faced before," muttered "Mi", sweat trailing her brow despite the cold air.
"If we fight them here, we're gambling our lives," said "Ling", hand never leaving his spear.
"But if we retreat... we won't leave alive," added "Roi", eyes locked on the two behind the leader, both still unmoving.. as if their presence alone could set the battlefield aflame.
None of them expected a day like this.
And "De"...
He remained silent.
His cold eyes continued to study the scene.
As if he didn't see what they did..
Or perhaps saw what they couldn't comprehend.
The leader raised his hand slowly, deliberately, and clenched his fist.
"Silence their screams. I don't want to hear a thing."
The ground exploded.
"Ling" lunged first, spear gleaming with a dark shine, slicing through the air like a rebel's cry.
One of the two behind the leader met it with a bare fist.. blocked the strike without so much as a hair shifting.
But Ling twisted mid-air, unleashing a sweeping strike that tore a shallow gash across the opponent's shoulder.
"Mi" darted sideways, capitalizing on the opening.
Her sword danced like flame, striking blind spots..
But the bandit leader himself… moved.
He didn't strike.
He appeared in front of "Roi" without warning.
A single palm strike..
But "Roi" raised his shield just in time.
The impact's roar shattered the air.
Roi was sent flying, rolling through dirt, bleeding from his lips—yet his eyes burned.
The battle raged on.
Blow for blow, each side trying to exploit a moment of weakness.
The leader moved with chilling ease, a faint smile on his face, dodging like a seasoned killer.
His companions fought earnestly..
But hadn't yet revealed their full strength.
And through it all...
"De" still stood.
He didn't strike.
Didn't step in.
But then...
He took a single step forward.
...
"De" moved.
Not with the steps of one preparing for combat.
Nor with the look of a warrior about to explode.
His movements were calm. Measured.
Then suddenly, he turned..
And ran.
He sprinted away from the battlefield,
As if none of it mattered,
As if the enemies were irrelevant.
"He ran?!"
Shock rippled across the field.
Even those deep in battle paused for a breath.
"De?!"
"Mi" screamed—her voice cracked, angry, and wounded at once:
"You coward!!"
The bandit leader laughed..
That heavy laugh, like war drums at a funeral.
"A rat... he won't get far. We'll deal with him once we crush these noisy ants."
But "De"...
Did not look back.
He ran.
And ran.
Until he vanished between dunes like fog swallowed by the morning sun.
**
Minutes passed.
The fighting continued behind him...
But amidst towering rocks and sand, where no eyes followed, "De" stood alone.
He breathed slowly, closed his eyes, and whispered—
Not to anyone, but to something deeper than all that surrounded him.
"People see courage as confrontation.
But they forget that many of the world's dumbest acts wear the mask of bravery."
"Everyone wants to be the hero who faces the monster.
But no one asks: why do I fight? For whom?"
He opened his eyes.
Looked at his hand.
Clean—untainted by blood.
"Not every fight is worth fighting.
And not every retreat is cowardice."
"Cowardice.. is walking with the crowd,
following their screams,
without thought,
without understanding—
just because you're afraid of being called a coward."
"But me... I know who I am.
And I don't need to prove anything to anyone."
**
He could have fought.
He could have made a mark.
But he chose to leave—
Because he saw clearly what others couldn't.
The leader...
Wasn't the true enemy.
The real enemy..
Was collective stupidity.
The blind rush into a doomed battle,
Against a foe that couldn't be brought down without purpose, without plan, without meaning.
They all thought he fled.
But in truth...
He chose the path no one dares walk.
The path of the "rat," as the enemy called him.
But the rat doesn't die in the arenas of fools—
It survives.
It lives.
And it returns...
When the time is right.
And when that day comes—
He won't run.
...