The Red Village (1)

Deep inside the Sleeping woods, next to Roken village, a 14-year-old youth was facing a tree with an ax in hand. Slender and delicate looking, the youth was breathing roughly, completely exhausted. Drops of sweat were streaming along his well-defined face.

"It looks like I won't be able to cut down this tree before nightfall." Through the gaps in the foliage, he could see the last rays of the setting sun painting the sky with a deep orange hue. Behind him, laid a neatly chopped wood pile. Observing the pile for a moment, he put the ax back in its holder on his waist.

"This will have to do." He sighed. He loathed this part with all his being, carrying the wood back to Roken. He reached for the leather stripe on the ground, the other end was bound to the wooden sled under the wood pile. With self-motivating thoughts, he started his journey back to the village dragging behind the heavy burden.

'If things continue like so, I won't be able to meet the monthly quota.' This depressing thought fell like a heavy rock in the depth of his heart. The juvenile and his grandpa had come to this village 14 years ago. His grandpa was at the time youthful and healthy. Unfortunately, a bizarre disease flared up once they settled in Roken.

His grandpa weakened day by day. Now, he looked hundreds of years old. It was like time flowed faster for him. Because of this, the youth matured more quickly, he started working as a woodcutter for the village to afford food and medicine for his grandpa.

The supervisor had recently decided to raise the monthly quota. When the youth expressed how hard it would be to meet the new one, the supervisor merely smiled. That smile was one of utter disregard and menace. If he had to translate this smile into words, they would be:

'If you know what's good for you, stop giving me lip and start working!'

The reason for the new quota was apparent, at least to the youth. In one word: 'Greed'. The supervisor wanted to sell the surplus of wood and make a profit. After all, the original amount was sufficient to cover the needs of every villager, so it was unnecessary to raise the quota.

Alas, human nature was treacherous. To satisfy his greed, the supervisor didn't care if he risked the livelihood of honest woodcutters. A complaint could have been made to the Village Chief if it weren't for the supervisor's status. Unfortunately for the youth and the other woodcutters, the supervisor was related to the village chief. Resistance was thus futile.

Gritting his teeth, the youth swore to himself. 'This kind of powerlessness, there will come a day when I won't need to feel it anymore.'

The walk back to Roken was grueling. He felt pain in his shoulders and calves. The leather he used to drag the sled was biting into his skin and his calves were strained from the continuous physical exertion.

Still, he soldiered on, the village was less than a mile away. He felt himself gain more energy at the thought of his grandpa. Just as he almost reached the village's vicinity, he smelled the burning wood. Sounds of abject fear and agony pierced his ears. His grip on the leather band slackened and the band fell from his hand.

'No don't tell me...'

Dread settled on his features at the thought and he broke into a run, the wood pile laid on the floor, forgotten. As he was running, praying for his guess to be false, he started hearing cries in the distance.

After a couple of minutes, he eventually broke the treeline. Before his eyes, was pure chaos. Bandits had broken into the village and were ransacking, murdering, and r*ping. The cries he had heard before came from the poor villagers.

'Grandpa!' He ran desperately toward his house. His grandpa needed to be safe.

Unfortunately, fate disdained him. Before he reached his house he could already see the sign. He had weaved through the chaos while avoiding the bandits and ignoring everyone only to see this.

His door was broken. Even with the noisy surrounding, the noise of furniture being thrown was clear to his ears. His head was buzzing. Almost like a puppet, he stepped into the house. The first thing he saw was a lying figure with blood pooling underneath.

He came closer and recognized his grandpa. He was dead. Presumably, it was quick. He was pushed and fell. His head hit a sharp corner and he left this world. The youth wanted to believe that it was painless.

Unexpectedly, faced with tragedy, the youth didn't break down and cry. Simply, the buzzing in his head got louder. He knelt before his grandfather's corpse and bowed three times silently. He then got up and seized the ax hanging at his belt.

The youth wasn't a hunter but he had some experience in hunting. As such, when he walked on the floor, he didn't make any noise. After a turn, he could see the culprit behind the state of his grandfather.

The noises were coming from here. This bandit had stumbled upon this house and had only found one inhabitant. An old man. He casually pushed the surprised old man away, unintentionally killing him. He didn't care. For a bandit, human life was merely a bit superior to grass. Inferior to copper, not to mention silver or gold.

He searched the place and only found 15 coppers. It wasn't much, but it could be exchanged for some cheap wine. He didn't expect anything from this village. After all, it didn't look like a place of prosperity. He would be happy if he could make 50 coppers out of this raid.

'Alas! banditry is becoming more and more unprofitable' The Bandit thought while trying to see if there was anything left of value. At this moment, he had just crouched down because the floor sounded empty. It looked like something was hidden there. Excitement rose in the heart of the bandit. The corner of his lips rose up and then...A head with a happy smile fell on the floor.

Behind the headless body spurting blood like a geyser, a youth stood. In his hand, the ax previously used to chop wood was dripping blood. The youth opened his mouth and spoke to the now-empty house.

"Grandpa, your little Rain killed someone today. You always said that it was difficult...Grandpa, in reality, it is quite easy." A smile uglier than crying spread on the youth's face.

The youth called Rain looked outside through the window.

"Grandpa, don't be lonely. There are a lot of people like the guy who killed you in the village right now. They will accompany you, the journey won't be lonesome. I will make sure of it."

Expressionlessly the youth walked out of the house gripping the ax. At this time, the distant cries of a bird echoed. The youth raised his eyes at the sky who seemed to have been dyed crimson. There was no bird.

Rain stopped looking and walked forward, seeking bandits to kill. His grandpa shouldn't be made to wait. He was quite cold now.