Leander was sent flying, and for a heartbeat, everyone in the yard stood in stunned silence. Weapons slipped from soldiers’ hands and clattered to the ground, and their eyes widened in terror. Many instinctively stepped back and bumped against the wooden fence, but no one dared look down.
Nathaniel’s sword gave a sharp, buzzing tremor. He tightened his grip on the hilt, holding it so hard that the red marks of his fingertips were left on the scabbard.
The child’s earlier punch had been nothing but a blur. The small, chubby fist seemed harmless, yet when it struck Leander’s chest, it landed like a meteor.
Nathaniel saw Leander’s black armor cave in. He heard the sharp crack of ribs breaking, the grinding of bone scraping against bone.
“Captain Grimsby…”
A guard trembled as he tried to step forward and help Leander, but he froze after only two steps.
Leander, curled up beneath the fence, choked as black blood bubbled from his throat. Each breath was more ragged than the last, and his sunken chest writhed as if something were crawling beneath the skin.
The most terrifying part was his eyes. They bulged as though ready to pop out from their sockets, but his eyes were still fixed on the child on the swing. Even in death, his pupils were frozen in fear.
The child pumped his legs as the swing rose to its peak. His short jacket lifted in the wind, showing his chubby arm with soft rolls.
He casually glanced at the corpse on the ground. The dark shine of his eyes reflected the morning glories on the wooden fence. Suddenly, he pointed at one half-opened bud and said, “That one’s about to wither.”
The remark sounded casual, but it hit everyone like a punch to the gut. Nathaniel broke out in a cold sweat. His battle robe clung to his wounds, and the wet fabric biting into him with sharp pain.
Only then did he realize he had made a terrible mistake. On this island where immortals and demons were indistinguishable, how could a child wandering so freely in the hidden yard be an ordinary kid?
That seemingly casual punch contained earth-shaking power. It was probably more terrifying than the Dreadkraken they’d encountered earlier.
“We didn’t mean to disturb you. Please forgive us,” he said, dropping to one knee. He was unable to hide the tremor in his voice. “We’re just ordinary people who wandered into this Elysium Isle by mistake. We mean no disrespect.”
The soldiers behind him snapped out of their daze and dropped to their knees. The armor clattered loudly and sharply in the stillness of the yard.
If Leander, one of their best fighters, couldn’t even withstand a single punch from this child, what kind of being were they dealing with on this island?
The swing rose higher, and the sturdy branches creaked softly. The child seemed oblivious to Nathaniel’s apology, or perhaps simply didn’t bother to respond.
He tilted his head back to watch the drifting clouds while humming that tuneless nursery rhyme again. Strange as it was, the sound carried a lulling cadence, and more than one soldier felt their eyelids grow heavy.
Nathaniel gritted his teeth and looked up.
“Young sir…” he began. He was about to say something when he saw the child suddenly raise his small hand and gaze casually toward the gate.
In an instant, a violent wind swept from deep within the grove. It carried countless leaves that sliced across their faces like sharp blades.
Nathaniel felt a tremendous force slam into his chest. He was thrown backward and collided with the soldiers behind him.
Screams rose one after another as everyone was swept away like dust before an invisible broom. They tumbled outside the fence.
Some crashed into the tree trunks, splitting their heads open instantly. Others tripped over vines and rolled down the slope into the underbrush.
Nathaniel landed on the outer edge. His forehead struck a blue stone, and his vision went black. He struggled to lift his head just in time to see the wooden gate creak shut.
The swing still swayed gently, but the child had disappeared into the shadows of the grove, as if he had never been there.
The gust of wind came and went in an instant, leaving a mess of mud and leaves scattered across the ground. The soldiers helped each other to their feet. Their armor was coated in dirt and debris.
Some groaned while clutching their broken ribs. Others glared at the closed fence through gritted teeth. Yet no one dared move forward because that wind carried a force more terrifying than a thousand charging troops.
“Your Highness, this-” one guard began. He pressed a hand to his bleeding forehead, but Nathaniel shot him a glare before he could finish.
Nathaniel used his sword to prop himself up, then got on his feet. As he wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, he gazed at the tranquil grove with complex emotions.
That child’s power was unfathomable, and it was clearly beyond their ability to challenge. Yet that only confirmed there were true masters hidden somewhere on this island.
The smoke, the swing, and even the nursery rhyme the child hummed seemed ordinary, yet it clearly felt like some kind of test.
“Don’t make a sound.” Nathaniel lowered his voice as his gaze swept over his soldiers. “From now on, we’ll camp outside this place. No one is to go within half a step of that fence.”
He paused, then looked at the curling smoke in the grove. A flicker of stubborn resolve crossed his eyes as he said, “We’ll wait here.”
