A squad of no more than five men charged through the forest on their horses, a tall and muscular man leading them. Their speed seemed to surpass even that of light as they glided across the ground with worried faces.

Once they arrived, they were met with a gruesome scene out of a horror movie. The village they were meant to save was burnt to the ground, dead bodies littered the floor, and blood was used to paint the whole place red. Everyone seemed to already have lost their lives to the cruel monsters who had attacked.

Clover, the leader of the small knight squad, got off his hoarse and looked around, his face as hard as stone. No one had moved an inch. Out of the corner of his eye, Clover noticed a small movement. He quickly darted his head in the direction only to be met with the sight of a young boy curled up, a safe distance away from the roaring flames, with his arms covering his face as he cried silently.

All the members of the squad looked at each other before Clover approached the boy, no visible emotion on his face.