Chapter 11 – Young Saviour I
Among the chaos, Shawn’s gaze locked onto the banyan tree in the village square. In front of the tree, there were a few of the surviving villagers who were wounded and knelt down. Beneath its sprawling branches, a soldier stood poised to execute the village elder, wielding a sword crafted by Shawn’s own grandfather. The soldier raised the blade, examining it with a cruel smirk, and addressed the crowd, his voice dripping with disdain. “Such a fine sword. Your village’s reputation for forging the sharpest blades in the eastern region is well-deserved. But it’s a pity that you must die by your own making.” He raised the sword, preparing to deliver the fatal blow.
The soldier moved into position to carry out the execution. The village elder, Ruth’s grandfather, knelt helplessly before his family and a small crowd of villagers. The village elders’ family—including Ruth, his father, and mother—were kneeling beside him, their faces stricken with fear and sorrow, with Ruth’s mother covering his eyes.
Shawn’s heart pounded with urgency. Determined to save the elder, he tightened his grip on the bloodied sword in his hand. The distance between him and the soldier seemed insurmountable, but a calm, familiar voice echoed within him, urging him to act. “Just swing the sword.”
With a roar of determination, Shawn shouted and swung the sword with all his might, slashing upward. To his astonishment, a powerful wave of energy erupted from the blade, tearing through the earth and sky in a devastating arc. The shock wave surged from the entrance of his house, creating a slash wave, cutting a path through the landscape toward the banyan tree. The sound was deafening, drawing everyone’s attention.
The soldier, poised to strike, turned just in time to see the slash wave barrelling toward him. He raised the sword and tried to block it, but the force was too great. The impact made the blade loosen from the soldier’s grip and rose in the sky, and plunged into the ground in front of the village elder’s head. The impact of the wave struck the soldier with bone-crushing impact, hurling him towards the banyan tree and embedding him in it. Blood spewed from his mouth as his body crumpled, his internal organs shattered. In his final moments, he realised his fate, closing his eyes as death took him.
The villagers, stunned at first, turned their gazes in the direction the slash wave had come from. Ruth, her voice filled with hope and disbelief, murmured, “It’s Shawn.” A wave of relief and joy swept through the crowd as they saw their would-be saviour standing firm. The sword in Shawn’s hand had shattered from the immense force of the swing, wisps of smoke curling from his hands—a testament to the raw power he had unleashed.
Shawn, breathless and overwhelmed, stood amidst the wreckage. The weight of his actions slowly settled in, but the renewed hope in the villagers’ eyes fuelled his resolve. However, deep down, he knew the battle was far from over.
As Shawn began walking toward the villagers from the slope, the two remaining soldiers noticed everything and hid in the shadows. One crouched on the roof of a broken house and whispered, “he is not an ordinary boy!” The other was concealed in a nearby alley, both waiting for the opportune moment to strike.
As Shawn came down from the slope and started walking past the narrow alleyway, the soldier hiding close by seized his chance. He lunged from the shadows, sword aimed at Shawn’s back. But Shawn’s heightened senses had already warned him of the ambush. As the soldier’s blade cut through the air, Shawn swiftly dodged with a tuck and roll, landing in a defensive stance facing his attacker.
The soldier, who understood he had missed the golden opportunity, started a relentless series of attacks, forcing Shawn to dodge each swing with agility. He had no weapon to counter the blade, leaving him vulnerable. The villagers watched in horror, their earlier hope slowly turning to fear as they saw Shawn fighting unarmed.
The village elder, noticing Shawn’s plight, then turned his glance at Ruth, who was trembling with worry, seeing Shawn fighting and then at the sword that had landed in front of him, gathered his courage. With a surge of resolve, he stood up, grabbed the sword and hurled it toward Shawn, shouting, “Shawn!”
Hearing the elder’s voice, Shawn kept his focus on the soldier in front of him. Timing his movements perfectly, as he dodged the soldiers’ attack and he used the soldier’s body as leverage, kicking off to launch himself into the air. As he soared, he reached out and grabbed the sword, landing gracefully in front of the soldier. Now armed, Shawn assumed an offensive stance, gripping the sword with both hands, ready to face his foe with renewed determination.
The soldier standing before Shawn didn’t flinch, even after seeing Shawn now armed with a sword. His earlier, erratic swings ceased, replaced by a cold, calculated stance. The soldier knew this was going to be a real fight, where even the slightest misstep could mean death, and the young boy in front of him was no ordinary person. They locked eyes, the tension between them palpable, each one reading the other’s intent.
The rain began to pour heavily, its relentless downpour dimming the light from the burning houses and blotting out the rising sun. The world around them seemed to shrink, as if the storm itself was closing in, isolating them in this deadly dance. The silence was broken only by the sudden crash of thunder, a signal that sent both fighters into motion.
They clashed with a force that sent shock-waves rippling through the air, each strike between them deflecting the raindrops outward like tiny explosions. Shawn quickly realised that the soldier’s swings were not the wild, uncoordinated attacks of a novice. Each one was precise, deadly, and meant to end his life. Shawn found himself on the defensive, barely able to parry the powerful blows coming his way.
The villagers, including the elder and Ruth’s family, watched in stunned silence. The sight of a 16-year-old boy holding his own against a seasoned soldier was both awe-inspiring and terrifying. They could see that Shawn was struggling, constantly forced back by the soldier’s relentless assault. Every bit of their hope now rested on Shawn’s narrow shoulders, and the weight of that burden pressed down on him.
Shawn felt the pressure as well. This fight was unlike any he had faced before. The soldier’s experience and skill were overwhelming, and Shawn knew that if he made even a single mistake, it would be his last. Yet, something strange was happening. As the fight dragged on, Shawn began to sense the soldier’s movements, almost as if he could anticipate the next strike before it happened. The world around him seemed to slow down; each swing from the soldier came at him slower and slower, while in reality, Shawn’s reactions were growing faster and more precise.
The soldier, sensing the shift, began to grow restless. His once calm and methodical approach started to fray as frustration crept in. He hadn’t expected Shawn to last so long, let alone begin to turn the tide against him. His attacks became more desperate, his precision faltering as his calm reaction gave way to anger. As both swing the swords left and right, countering each other.
Meanwhile, the second soldier, still hidden on the rooftop, watched the duel intently. He could see his fellow soldier starting to lose control, and he knew he couldn’t just stand by any longer. Silently, he controlled his breathing and began channelling his energy to his blade, preparing to unleash a powerful slash wave that would end the fight in an instant.
As the rain continued to pour, the dark clouds above seemed to mirror the brewing chaos below, along with the clash of the sound between two blades. Shawn, driven by fury and an instinct he couldn’t quite name, continued to fend off his opponent. Time was running out, and Shawn was unaware of the impending danger from one of the roofs. The hidden soldier, crouched on the rooftop, tightened his grip on his sword as he controlled his breathing and channelled his energy to his blade, which began to glow ominously. The flicker of light drew the attention of the villagers and even the soldier battling Shawn, who instantly recognised the signal. With renewed aggression, he struck at Shawn relentlessly, determined to keep his focus undivided and unaware of the attack from the soldier on the roof.
The villagers watched in horror as the soldier on the roof prepared to strike. They tried to shout warnings to Shawn, but their voices were drowned out by the heavy rain and the clash of steel. Perched on the roof, the soldier unleashed a wave of air slashes—deadly arcs of wind that hurtled toward Shawn with lethal precision. Despite the lack of a clear warning, a sense of impending danger surged within Shawn. He instinctively made a powerful dash toward his immediate opponent, crashing into him with his sword in such force that the soldier was thrown back several feet.
In a split second, Shawn turned to face the incoming slashes. He could see the arcs of energy racing towards him, and without hesitation, he raised his sword into a defensive stance. The first wave struck, creating a massive impact that sent a cloud of smoke and debris swirling into the air, completely engulfing him, while the rest of the air slashes followed.
The villagers, witnessing this, gasped in unison, their hearts sinking at the thought of what might have happened to Shawn. The smoke obscured everything, leaving them to wonder if their young protector had been struck down anxiously.
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