The Awakening

“What happened? Why didn’t this girl pass out from the potion we mixed into the cake?”

The burly man’s voice trembled as he stared down at Erella, who was still on her feet.

The potion they had used was infamous—strong enough to bring down a full-grown elephant with a single bite. Yet the little girl before them was wide awake, blinking in confusion. The five bandits exchanged uneasy glances, disbelief etched on their scarred faces.

“This… this isn’t possible,” one muttered. “Did we mess up the dosage?”

The leader, a thickset man with a crooked scar running down his cheek, shook his head. “No. I made it myself. That cake could’ve sent a bear into a week-long sleep. Something’s off about this brat.”

They tried to reason it out but found no explanation. Eventually, they gave up and focused their gazes back on her.

Erella, on the other hand, scrambled to her feet as fast as her trembling legs allowed.

‘Oh, sugar honey iced tea!’ she cursed in her head. ‘This isn’t Hansel and Gretel after all!’

Her heart sank as realization dawned—these weren’t witches. They were worse. Bandits.

Her breath quickened. The way they stared at her—like wolves circling a lamb—made every nerve in her body scream danger.

‘I think I’d rather take my chances with a witch than be captured by these filthy men,’ she thought, dread tightening her chest.

Then one of them stepped closer, his grimy hand grabbing her chin roughly and forcing her to look up at him.

“Hmmm…” He smirked, his voice low and disgusting. “She’s got beauty. We can sell her to that perverted count for a fortune.”

Erella’s face turned pale. The words echoed in her mind like a nightmare—sell her… to a pervert.

Her heart thudded painfully in her chest. She would rather return to her cruel stepmother and stepsisters, scrubbing floors until her hands bled, than be sold to some monster.

‘Oh my God, please—please send me back!’ she prayed desperately, eyes squeezed shut. ‘I promise I’ll never complain again! Just don’t let them sell me!’

But no miracle came. When she opened her eyes, she was still standing before them, trembling. The bandit’s foul breath hit her face, pulling her back to the horror of reality.

“Boss,” another bandit said with a lecherous grin, “can we have a taste of her first before selling her off?”

Erella’s eyes widened in terror. Her hands began to shake uncontrollably.

The leader shot the man a sharp glare. “No. If you touch her, we lose our profit.”

“Come on, boss,” the man protested, his tone turning whiny. “I’ll be gent—”

“Enough!” the leader barked, cutting him off. His cold voice carried no trace of mercy. “You said that last time too. The girl died in your filth.”

Erella froze. The world around her seemed to blur.
They killed a child.

Her fear twisted into something else—something darker. Her blood boiled as images filled her head: terrified children, crying, pleading for help… and these monsters laughing.

Her hands clenched tightly. Her teeth ground together.

Loathe.

The word burned through her mind like fire.

And then—something inside her snapped.

A surge of energy erupted from her chest, wild and uncontrolled. The air thickened, crackling with power.

The bandits stumbled back, eyes darting around in panic.

“What—what the hell was that?!”

“Is someone here?”

They searched wildly, expecting to see a mage or a knight, but there was no one. Only Erella, standing there—small, trembling, her golden eyes now glowing faintly with a strange light.

A violent gust of wind burst from nowhere, slamming into them. The ground cracked under their boots as they fell, struggling to stay upright.

“Boss, what’s happening?!” one of them shouted over the roaring wind.

“Did the duke find us?!” another yelled.

The leader’s face went pale. Only nobles—or the duke himself—could wield mana this strong. But the duke wouldn’t waste time toying with them. If it were him, they’d already be dead.

Still, the instinct to survive overpowered his confusion. “We’re leaving!” he roared. “Now! Get the girl and move!”

But when they turned—Erella was gone.

The wind suddenly died. The forest fell eerily silent.

“Where… where is she?” whispered the lecherous bandit, his voice shaking.

The leader hesitated. His gut screamed that something wasn’t right. “Forget her,” he barked finally. “Our lives are worth more than one brat. Retreat!”

But the lecherous one sneered. “No. I want the girl. I’ll—”

A sharp slash of wind cut through the air, slicing his chest open before he could finish.

He screamed in agony, clutching his bleeding wound. “Arghhh! What—what is this?!”

Another invisible blade struck him, deeper this time, cutting across his back. His body hit the ground with a thud, blood pooling beneath him.

The others froze in horror. Their comrade’s cries echoed through the trees.

“Run!” one shouted, but as they turned, the wind struck again—swift, merciless. It tore through their legs, sending them crashing to the dirt.

Their screams filled the forest.

“Show yourself, coward!” the leader bellowed, trying to sound brave despite the tremor in his voice.

And then—she appeared.

Erella stepped out from the swirling dust, her small frame illuminated by the moonlight. Her long hair fluttered in the dying breeze.

The bandits’ eyes went wide. “Y-you?!”

Erella said nothing. Her expression was cold—almost lifeless—as she raised her hand. The wind obeyed her command.

In a blur, she moved—graceful, deadly. One by one, the men were slashed by unseen blades of air.

“P-please… have mercy…” the lecherous man whimpered, blood staining his torn shirt.

Erella stopped. The forest grew silent again. For a moment, the bandits thought she had relented. Relief flickered in their eyes—until she spoke.

“Did you stop,” she asked softly, “when those children begged for mercy?”

The men’s faces turned ashen.

“Then just kill us already!” the leader spat, desperate to end the torment.

Erella smiled—an angelic smile that sent chills crawling up their spines.

“Killing you,” she whispered, “would be mercy.”

The air grew colder. The pressure around them was suffocating. Their hearts pounded wildly, fear consuming them.

Before she could move again, the remaining bandits made their choice—they turned their own blades upon themselves, ending their lives rather than facing her wrath.

Erella stood still, watching without emotion as their bodies fell. The forest reeked of blood and regret.

When the last echo faded, she lowered her hand. The glow in her eyes dimmed, leaving her exhausted.

She wandered through the forest, following the faint trail of mana that led her to the bandits’ hideout.

It wasn’t hard to find. The stench of decay and greed hung thick in the air.

Erella entered silently, her footsteps echoing against the cold stone floor. She found a few guards still standing—and swiftly ended them. They barely had time to scream.

Then she saw them—children, sleeping soundly inside a cage. Their faces were pale, their wrists bruised, but they were alive.

Relief washed over her. “They didn’t touch them yet…” she murmured.

For a moment, her anger melted into tenderness. She reached through the bars, brushing a strand of hair from a little girl’s face.

And then, the world tilted.

Her vision blurred. Her body felt heavy—drained. The mana she unleashed had taken its toll.

She sank to the ground, her breathing slow and uneven.

Before darkness claimed her, she whispered faintly, “You’re safe now…”

Then Erella’s eyes closed, and silence once again filled the forest.