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The needle's tip slowly pierced the skin at a skillful depth and angle, stitching the torn flesh together. The fine catgut thread soon sealed the hideous wound. With a deft finishing technique, the gash, which should have looked as fearsome as a centipede, now had certain neatness to it. It would likely leave a scar, but at least it would not worsen.
Satisfied with her work, she rose onto the tips of her toes. The patient before her offered a grateful smile. The simple, honest peasant repeatedly voiced his thanks and reached behind him. Surely he had brought fruit, dried meat, or something similar.
A cold, metallic grinding sound slipped into her ears and spread to her neck. It gently kissed her skin, causing gooseflesh to break out quickly.
The simple, honest peasant from just moments before had now transformed into a man with eyes as sharp and heroic as a falcon's. He glared at her with a fierce light in his eyes and still gripped a sharp, short knife in his hand.
"Doctor, you have done well. I should properly thank you. How about sending you early to meet Effas?"
Before she could scream, the sharp, short knife plunged straight into her chest. All her strength, along with her blood, flowed out of the wound. Her legs gave way, and she collapsed to the ground. She no longer had the strength to even wail or cry out. Meanwhile, the man naturally wiped his blade clean on his clothes.
Outside the window, the roar of flames consuming houses and the villagers’ screams rang out. Without hesitation or pity, iron hooves ravaged this small village, and it would soon become a land of death.
Intense fear and sorrow made her struggle desperately to rise. Her heart was filled with bewildered, chaotic emotions. Yet, for some unknown reason, the man suddenly crouched down and clamped a hand over her mouth. Unwilling to die like this, she opened her mouth and bit down hard on his hand. She could feel her teeth sinking into flesh.
At the same time, a short, sharp scream rang out beside her ear. The hand that had been covering her mouth now pinched her jaw tightly. The piercing pain made her jump up suddenly.
Talina lifted her head above the water’s surface and blinked her sleepy eyes. She looked puzzledly at the man before her. He was the same man who had secretly returned to see his wife, only to be captured by the cavalrymen. Now, he looked at her with an expression of intense anxiety.
The piercing screams seemed far away, yet the emotion of despair was palpable. The firelight cast a red glow beyond the windows. Talina turned her head and saw the village burning.
Screaming villagers were overtaken one by one by the cavalrymen. Their backs were pierced by lances, and curved swords swung with ease, severing one head after another from their necks. Infants, still faintly struggling, were impaled on spears.
The firelight beside them illuminated the twisted face of the cavalryman and his pointed ears. The light in his eyes, like that of a wild beast, was filled with aggression and a desire to inflict suffering. His teeth seemed stained with blood.
Torch after torch was hurled by the swiftly galloping cavalrymen, crashing into the spaces between the thatched cottages and rapidly igniting the straw roofs. Those unable to escape in time emitted desperate, wailing screams as they beat frantically at doors and windows. Yet, time and again, they were driven back by the flames.
Corpses warped and twisted swiftly in the fierce fire, and boiling entrails and blood burst forth from their bodies like balloons. The village, peaceful by day, had become a hell for humans.
This terrifying sight nearly drove Talina mad with fear. She stood there, dumbfounded and agape, not knowing what to say. Her hands and feet grew cold and numb. She was like a foolish sheep paralyzed by terror, able only to close her eyes and await death.
"Talina! Talina! Hurry and pack your things! We must flee at once!"
A violent shaking brought the terrified girl back to her senses. In the man’s arms was a small cloth bundle. Within it was a plump little face. His face was smeared with clots of blood, and he still gripped a blood-drenched knife used for chopping wood. Clearly, his journey here had not been smooth.
"We must run quickly! These people started killing as soon as they rushed into the village. We don't know where they're from. We only know they're Holsian! We must flee at once! They have no intention of leaving any of us alive. Run! Run!"
The man was clearly extremely panicked; his words were incoherent. The girl immediately rose, took her small satchel of supplies from the cabinet beside her, hesitated for a moment, and tucked the exquisite short knife into her belt. The two of them crouched down and slowly crept out the door.
"My woman is waiting for us in the grass at the village entrance. Move lightly. As long as we slip into the forest, we will be safe.”
The man grabbed a longbow leaning against the doorframe. A quiver of arrows hung at his waist. A Holsian soldier with a split-open skull lay in the courtyard, a red-and-white mixture flowing out from the cavity in his cranium.
The intense stench of blood made the girl involuntarily furrow her brows. She lowered her head and carefully concealed herself among the tufts of grass surrounding the houses.
Talina had never been more grateful for the grass around the houses and her own lazy nature. Had she been more diligent and cleared away the grass, he and Talina would now be exposed to the eyes of these terrifying slaughterers.
The death rattle of the dying and desperate and heart-rending screams echoed everywhere. The dreadful sound of blades entering flesh made them both tremble. Yet the child in the man’s arms slept soundly.
The piteous cries did not frighten him as they would an ordinary child. He curled his small body within the embrace of the cloth bundle, breathing evenly and smoothly. This made the man all the more cautious. If the child were to wake up now, it would cause enormous trouble.
The village where they had lived for so many years had transformed into a land of death. The fallen bodies beside the mill and waterwheel were all villagers they had known; now, they were corpses. Death was like a small butterfly, hovering around them, ready to touch them at any moment. It had never felt so real or so concrete before.
There was no time for sorrow or anger. The only thing they could do was flee. Intense fear gripped both of them. The only thing they could do was flee from this place that had become hell.
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