But then, one of his dogs barked sharply.
"What is it?" Baskervilel turned to look.
From the shadows, an old man appeared. He had a sword at his side and a long beard streaked with white. His clothes were worn, but he walked with strength. The dogs rushed him.
With a single, clean strike, the old man split them in half.
Baskervilel roared.
[What the hell? You can't even kill one old man?!]
He sent the rest of the hounds after him.
The old man cut through all of them like they were paper.
I didn't understand what was happening. But the sight of this old man walking calmly toward the demon—his eyes filled with fury—sent a chill down my spine.
When most of his dogs were dead, Baskervilel decided to attack himself.
"You'll pay for that, old man! I'll kill you and feed your flesh to my beasts!"
Baskervilel lunged first, but the old man deflected his attack effortlessly. Then Baskervilel struck again. Just as he was about to land a blow, he blinked—and the world spun. In that fleeting moment, he saw his own head lying on the ground.
With one masterful stroke, the old man had severed his head so swiftly that Baskervilel hadn't even realized he was dead.
Even with his head detached, Baskervilel's voice snarled from the ground.
"You damn old man! I'll kill you! My dogs will—!"
But then, the old man summoned a green flame from his hand. He cast it onto the demon's body, his severed head, and the corpses of the hounds. They all burned away in emerald fire.
I could only sit there and watch, unable to move from the pain of my wounds. The old man turned and walked toward me.
As he approached, my vision darkened. I lost all feeling in my body. The last thing I saw before blacking out… was the old man standing tall, surrounded by green flames.
Some time passed.
I slowly regained consciousness. When I tried to move, the pain from my injuries stopped me immediately.
I was lying somewhere unfamiliar. The cloth I had used to cover my eyes was gone.
I looked around but moving my head sent a sharp pain through my skull—it felt like my head would split open.
That's when the old man walked into the room. He stepped inside, set a pot over the fire, and began cooking something.
He was muscular, broad-shouldered, clearly strong despite his age. His hair and beard were streaked with gray. His clothes were old and simple. When he spoke, his voice was calm and clear.
"Your head hurts?"
"Yes… Where am I?"
"My cabin. I rescued you from that demon last night and brought you here."
"Thank you... for saving me, sir."
"Name's Valorant. Just Valorant will do."
"I'm Attu."
"What are you doing out here? Why aren't you at home?"
"I don't have one anymore."
"What about your parents?"
"They're gone. The demon you killed… he destroyed our village. He killed my mother. My father disappeared six years ago."
"I see…"
Valorant grabbed a bowl and ladled soup from the pot, then handed it to me.
"Eat. It'll give you strength."
"Thank you. By the way, where's my sword?"
"Somewhere safe. Next to mine."
I ate the soup he gave me. It was delicious. Maybe because I hadn't eaten in so long… or maybe because Valorant really knew how to cook. Either way, it tasted like the best thing I'd had in ages.
Once he stepped out, I slowly got up. My body ached all over, but I managed to reach the door. I opened it and stepped outside.
Valorant was chopping wood in front of the cabin.
"Where's my blindfold?" I asked.
"Why do you need it?"
"Aren't my eyes frightening to you?"
"No."
"In that case… teach me swordsmanship. And teach me the magic you used—that fire."