The Village's Salvation
“……”
Along the boundary of a small village where even the fences stood crooked, people lined up holding rusty farming tools and broken swords. The haphazard piles of stones offered no real cover, serving only to mark the line between the road and the plains, and every face was filled with fear.
On the opposite side, across a single small meadow that could be crossed in a glance, a group of massive creatures stared back at the village and its people.
Brawny arms that could easily lift a grown man, reddish-brown skin, sharp fangs jutting from their mouths, and a single eye each. A pack of Cyclopes.
The Cyclopes, wearing nothing, each carried a club fashioned from a small tree or a chunk of rock in one hand. White breath hissed threateningly from their mouths with every exhale. Then the largest among them stepped forward and bellowed at the village in awkward speech.
“Humans! Give food! Or we smash!”
The pronunciation was clumsy and the vocabulary crude, yet the meaning was unmistakable.
“Damn it. Those shameless bastards.”
The villagers knew that some Cyclopes had settled in the nearby mountains after the great war. The creatures had never descended into the village before, nor caused any real harm. For a remote hamlet far from the capital and unable to receive military support, provoking the Cyclopes was far too dangerous, so the people had chosen to coexist by simply avoiding their territory.
Yet the Cyclopes, who once stayed within their own domain, gradually expanded their range. They began stealing sheep and goats that wandered too close to the village. The villagers sought help from nearby cities, and knight orders and mage units would arrive, but the Cyclopes would simply hole up in the mountains and refuse to come down.
Even the knights and mages found it impossible to root out the Cyclopes hidden deep in the treacherous ranges. Each time, they returned empty-handed. Then, several weeks ago, floods and landslides blocked the main road into the village. With no way for large mounted forces to reach them, the Cyclopes had finally come right up to the village doorstep, demanding livestock and food.
The villagers had been forced to hand over what they could for weeks, but the storehouses were nearly empty. If they gave any more, they would not survive the winter—there would not even be enough to eat in the days ahead.
In the end, the villagers, who had spent their lives holding only farming tools and kitchen knives, took up weapons to survive and now stood facing the Cyclopes.
Yet the outcome was obvious. A single Cyclops could lift a large cow with ease and uproot small trees by the roots. And there were more than ten of them.
Even if every villager threw their lives away, they might only manage to scratch the creatures’ skin. With extraordinary luck, they might kill one—but what difference would that make?
“Humans! Food!”
The Cyclops roared again in that grotesque voice, and the others echoed with howls. Their patience had clearly run out.
“……”
The villagers swallowed dryly and gripped their tools tighter. Among them were youths who had only just shed their boyish looks, and an old man whose hands trembled under the weight of his weapon. The savage howls gradually faded. It seemed the Cyclopes would soon charge across the meadow.
The Cyclopes began to move, slowly at first, as the villagers remained motionless. Step by step, dragging their clubs, they advanced. Then they broke into a run toward the village.
The light faded from the villagers’ eyes as they sensed the end. Not fleeing or dropping their weapons was the greatest courage they could muster.
“……?”
But just as the Cyclopes reached the center of the meadow, strange lights suddenly appeared around them, and glowing runes began to form.
The Cyclopes slowed, momentarily confused by the sudden appearance of the runes. From within the patterns, a white creature emerged.
It resembled a large seal with pure white skin. It stood on two front flippers, its rear ending in a single fin-like tail, much like a seal. Yet its eyes were red like a white rabbit’s, and two slightly elongated oval shapes sat where ears should be. A round black pattern marked its torso, resembling a simplified eye.
“Kyuu!”
Despite its doll-like appearance and a cry reminiscent of a young fox—adorable in every way—the creature was twice the size of the Cyclopes. When it casually swung its front paws and head, one Cyclops was sent tumbling backward.
The Cyclopes, still reeling from the sudden change, charged at the creature. Though it was larger, they were many, and hunting animals bigger than themselves was nothing new.
One Cyclops raised its club. Compared to the rough skin of its kind and the crude weapon, the creature’s smooth hide looked impossibly fragile.
“Kyuu!”
But the moment the Cyclops swung down, the pattern on the creature’s body glowed. A blast of white frost erupted, instantly freezing every Cyclops nearby.
The white creature’s name was Usa Monos. One of the sacred water beasts said to dwell in holy rivers, it possessed such immense mana that it could freeze even lava in an instant if it so wished.
The surviving Cyclopes turned to flee in terror. Dangerous as they were, they were nothing compared to Usa Monos. Yet before they could take more than a few steps, light flared again, and new runes etched themselves into the earth.
The ground suddenly heaved upward. Several giants of stone and soil, grass still clinging to their heads and backs, rose to block the Cyclopes’ escape. The Cyclopes charged without hesitation. Though large, the giants were roughly their size, and stone and earth seemed far less threatening than the mysterious white beast.
One Cyclops smashed its rock into a giant’s head. The giant staggered, and its head fell away. A cruel smile spread across the Cyclops’s face as it turned toward its next foe.
“……!”
Before it could even look away, the headless giant reached out and seized the Cyclops by the shoulders. As if mocking it, fresh soil surged from the giant’s torso and formed a new head.
These were Earth Elementals—high-ranking spirits of the land itself, unlike the lesser spirits Anak once forced into rocks.
The Earth Elementals fell upon the Cyclopes. A massive fist struck one Cyclops square in the face, sending its protruding fangs scattering. While it groaned in pain, sharp stone spikes erupted from the elemental’s body and pierced through the Cyclops.
The others fared no better. One Cyclops foolishly tried to wrestle an Earth Elemental, gripping its arms. At first it seemed evenly matched, but the elemental suddenly absorbed the earth beneath its feet and swelled in size. Like a landslide, the soil and stone that made up its body crashed down upon the Cyclops.
Unable to withstand the weight, the Cyclops collapsed. In its terror and agony, dirt and rocks poured into its open mouth. It suffocated, buried alive beneath the earth.
The remaining Cyclopes finally understood their fear as the Earth Elementals closed in. They tried to break through the weakest part of the encirclement, but most were caught.
Only one Cyclops managed to slip through. It fled toward the forest, abandoning even its club. If it could reach the trees, it would be safe—or so it desperately believed. Its massive body, belly, and everything beneath it shook as it ran for its life.
Yet before it could near the forest, light bloomed once more before its eyes. The Cyclops felt its legs weaken at the sight of that cursed, terrifying glow. Its steps faltered, and its single eye filled with nothing but fear.
Still, it forced its legs to move one last time. Even its small brain understood that nothing appeared the instant the light formed—it had seen it happen too many times. The Cyclops charged straight through the light just as something began to manifest.
A smile spread across its face. Now it only had to keep running. The forest was right there. It would leave this region and never return.
“…Guh!”
But as it ran, a sudden pain in its chest stopped it cold. Confused, the Cyclops slowly lowered its gaze to its chest and saw something unfamiliar protruding from it—a sharp, blindingly white light.
Following the beam that had pierced through its back, the Cyclops turned its head. At the end of the long white light stood a white horse bearing a single golden horn. A heavenly steed with a sacred horn—a Unicorn, one of the highest-ranking sacred beasts.
The light from the Unicorn’s horn slowly faded, leaving a gaping hole in the Cyclops’s chest. The creature raised a hand to the wound, watching its fingers stain red with its own blood, then collapsed.
“…Whoa, whoooa!”
The villagers, who had watched in stunned silence, finally erupted into cheers as the last Cyclops fell. They all looked skyward, where a winged steed—a Pegasus—was slowly descending.
“Thank you! Thank you so much!”
“We’re so grateful!”
The villagers bowed repeatedly toward the Pegasus, voices raised in gratitude. Two figures rode upon it. One was a young boy clutching the other’s waist in fear, while the second gently reassured him.
With green hair and snow-white skin, the rider’s delicate, ethereal beauty made it difficult to determine their gender. An elderly man who had been holding a broken sword stepped forward from the crowd.
“Thank you, truly, Lord Anak! I am the village chief. To come so quickly despite our sudden request……”
The chief’s voice trembled with emotion. Anak, the one called by that name, smiled brightly as he dismounted the Pegasus. He reached up to help the still-trembling boy down, then gently patted his head.
“It’s nothing. Thanks to this boy finding me so quickly, we arrived just in time. The thanks should go to him.”
The boy blushed at the praise and lowered his head. His torn, mud-stained clothes spoke of how desperately he had run.
“As expected of one of the heroes who saved the world alongside the Hero of Light, Lord Rowell!”
“The Summoner of Deception! The Second-Best Strategist! The Nightmare of Orsia Hill!”
“Anak! Anak! Anak!”
Between the small village and the meadow, Anak’s name echoed again and again. The man called Anak, looking slightly embarrassed, raised a hand in acknowledgment.