Bob The Dragon Layer

Divine Intervention

The crackling bolt of lightning shot through the air, racing toward Bob. He saw it too late, his shield still raised to block the advancing bandits in front of him. For a split second, his heart clenched in his chest—he knew there was no time to defend himself.

But then, something strange happened.

The bolt stopped mid-air, as if time itself had paused for a heartbeat, before reversing its course in an instant. The lightning crackled and sizzled as it shot back toward its source, slamming into the bandit who had summoned it with a deafening crack. The man's scream was brief as the surge of power consumed him, his body convulsing before collapsing in a heap of smoke and charred flesh.

The other bandits froze, wide-eyed and horrified by what had just happened. Bob blinked, confusion clouding his mind. Had he just witnessed divine intervention? He shook his head, focusing back on the fight. The bandits were momentarily disoriented, and he wasn't about to let the opportunity slip.

With renewed determination, Bob charged forward, swinging his shield with brutal precision. His legs burned from exertion, his muscles aching, but he pressed on. He knocked a sword from one bandit's grip, slamming his shield into their gut with enough force to send them sprawling. Another came at him with a spear, but Bob deflected the strike with his shield, using its momentum to crash the weapon into the bandit's chest.

From her vantage point, Anyala lowered her hand, her eyes watching the scene with satisfaction. The lightning bolt reversal had been subtle—enough to turn the tide but not enough to alert Bob to her magic. Her fingers twitched, and with a barely perceptible movement, she altered the battlefield again. As more bandits tried to surround Bob, their steps faltered, their weapons suddenly feeling heavier in their hands. They couldn't seem to move as fast or strike with their full force, while Bob moved with fluidity, his shield a blur as he continued to fend them off.

To the villagers watching from the square, it seemed like Bob was invincible.

One by one, the bandits fell. Bob bashed one over the head, sending him crashing to the ground, and kicked another in the chest, knocking the wind from their lungs. He was breathing hard now, sweat dripping from his brow, but he held his ground. The shield felt heavier in his hand, but with every swing, he knew he was protecting those who couldn't defend themselves.

Behind him, the children huddled close to one another, eyes wide with fear. They watched in awe as Bob fought for them, as if the very gods were on his side. And in that moment, perhaps they were.

The bandits, seeing their numbers dwindle and their leader dead, began to retreat. They scrambled over each other in their haste to flee, throwing down their weapons and disappearing into the darkening night. The village square was left littered with bodies, the smell of burning wood and sweat hanging in the air.

Bob stood there, breathing heavily, his shield still raised as he scanned the area for any remaining threats. But the battle was over. The bandits were gone.

He turned slowly, looking at the villagers who had gathered at the edge of the square. Some were kneeling beside the wounded, while others stared at him with wide-eyed amazement. Whispers filled the air, voices hushed with awe.

"It's a miracle," someone muttered.

"He was touched by the gods," another whispered.

Bob shook his head, confusion still swirling in his mind. What had happened with that lightning bolt? How had he survived? But before he could think any further, the children he had protected ran toward him, their faces lit with relief.

"Thank you!" one of the children cried, hugging Bob around the waist.

"You saved us!" another chimed in, their voice trembling with gratitude.

Bob knelt down, placing a gentle hand on the children's heads. He offered them a tired smile, his body still trembling from the fight. "You're safe now," he said quietly. "You're all safe."

But as the villagers began to gather around him, offering their thanks and praises, Bob's mind drifted back to the battle. The reversal of that lightning bolt still nagged at him. There had been something...unnatural about it, something beyond his understanding.

From the shadows, Anyala watched him, a small smile playing on her lips. She had seen it in his eyes—the uncertainty, the confusion. But she knew he wouldn't figure it out. Not yet. She would let him believe, as the villagers did, that it was divine intervention. It was better that way.

For now, she would remain in the background, quietly nudging him toward his potential. Bob was growing stronger, more confident, but he still had a long way to go. And when the time came, she would be there—ready to reveal the truth about herself and the power he had yet to fully comprehend.

But that time wasn't now.

For now, Bob needed to believe in himself, in the strength of his shield and the mercy it represented. He had saved the village today, and though he didn't know it, he had done so with the help of something far greater than any mortal power.

As the villagers continued to thank Bob, the sun finally dipped below the horizon, casting the village in a deep, peaceful twilight. Anyala, hidden from view, let out a quiet sigh of contentment before turning and slipping away into the shadows.