On a narrow and treacherous winding dirt road in the middle of the mountainous Fodlan's Fangs, a small-scale battle is taking place.
A group of roughly one hundred bandits has preyed upon this area for years, and once again they are going after a wealthy-seeming carriage passing through.
What they didn't anticipate, however, is the might of the hired mercenaries defending the vehicle.
Immediately after they revealed themselves, they knew they had messed up. What should have been the usual roadside robbery turned into an all-out battle for their lives, and they were losing. Badly.
In the midst of the chaos, a small boy darts around the battlefield using his longknife to debilitate any unsuspecting rogue he comes across. His short stature and unusual speed making it easy for him to go unnoticed by most until it is too late.
Steel hammers against steel as the unorganized bandits rush forward towards the unified formation of mercenaries in a desperate attempt to either escape or take as many down as they can.
Amidst this carnage, Byleth maneuvers throughout the battleground, slicing at the legs of occupied enemies or the throats of ones lying on the ground.
Screams and blood fill the air as one rogue's cheap leather armor fails to prevent a gleaming axe from tearing into his side, while another takes an arrow to the knee, collapsing to the ground.
Despite it all, the youth stays locked in on his goal of enfeebling and finishing those he can. Dashing in the direction of yet another would-be victim, he suddenly leaps to the side as a warhammer comes crashing down right where he would have been, impacting the ground with a loud thud.
Glancing to the side he sees a hulking and stocky brute of a man charging at him with an enraged expression.
Calmly examining the approaching figure, he hears a distinct whistle in the background and crouches low, waiting as an arrow comes flying across the air and stabs into the rogue's back.
Stumbling due to the sudden blow, he fails to react as the adolescent nimbly leaps up and streaks his blade across his throat in a quick and effortless fashion. Blood spills out of the man's neck like a waterfall, but the perpetrator has already moved on, searching for his next prey.
A couple of minutes later, the battle is finished.
The attacking bandit group formerly comprised of some seventy odd men is left with only twelve in moderate stages of injury. By comparison, The New Dawn Mercenaries have just eight casualties, a testament to their skill to be sure considering their smaller size, but unfortunate nonetheless.
Zane leisurely sits on his armored horse with a beautifully carved bow slung over his shoulder and an easy smile, watching as his men begin to clean up the battlefield.
Every now and then his attention wanders to the child walking amidst the gore, seemingly unfazed by it. As if sensing the gaze, the youth turns his head and locks eyes with the ginger, exchanging a small nod.
Moving on he comes to a stop beside his father and surveys the captured bandits.
As his blank cobalt eyes run over them, several shrink back from his gaze with pale faces. Those that had witnessed the boy before them on the battlefield are absolutely scared shitless.
It's one thing to see two grown men fighting to the death, but another thing entirely to see a child do the same. The few who saw what had happened feel a chill up their spine recalling the expressionless and bloody face he had when slicing through man after man, never pausing, never resting.
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The Fell Star's Return
FanfictionA young boy with a strange demeanor suddenly finds himself dealing with a beautiful green haired girl stuck in his mind. She doesn't remember much of anything, and loves to sleep, however it's clear that there is a deep connection between the two of...
