Allan ran into a house, quickly grabbing his bag and a sack from his room. Fortunately, he had a fresh supply of food he bought but did not know where the money from shop businesses was. Allan could only take his savings. Two full pouches of coins were all he had. It was still quite a wealth. His father did not manage him about it. Because he was doing his own business and contracts. Materials from the shop were the only things he used and Clayton never intended to hinder his learning experiences. All his metals and other materials were strictly his and his son's. Profits not so much, but that was something Allan had to figure out himself.
.
.
Allan suddenly heard shouts from a window. He glanced outside. Seeing lines of horses with soldiers on them. “Cavalry is here? What are they doing here? They are far away from the main gate.” Allan thought.

He quickly came to a horrific sight. They started to massacre fleeing people. Cleaving at them with blades. Piercing flesh with spears. Blood flowed on as they lost their lives at an alarming rate. They were not the northerners, as they wore regular-looking armors and weapons. Nothing showed their stands and uniforms. As for the Grusha or Waan armies, they had their own crests and mandatory ways to distinguish their looks.

“Oh, no! No!” Allan backed from the window. Terrified by this sight.

“I-i-i-i-I should take a bunch of weapons with me.” He mumbled in nervousness. Amassing a little of the courage he had, and left his room. With his bag and sack on his shoulders, he went downstairs. Fear of death washed over his feelings. He did not think of the dead citizens outside of his home. The sigh of death completely overwhelmed his mind.

Almost falling over, he glanced outside, not sure how much time he had before he was noticed or raided. He went to a warehouse and got some knives and a pair of short swords. He remembered that ranged weapons were very useful against adults with his build. “We used to sell bows. Now, that would be useful. Unfortunately, we have none.”

He remembered he had flying knives from earlier. Fortunately, they were still there. More than that, he could try to use regular knives for throwing, but they weren’t meant to be thrown.

“Oh right. I shouldn’t forget my books! Although they are not important to one’s life. It is too important to me. To throw them away, I am not willing.”

Allan took his stuff off and ran upstairs to get his books. Throwing himself towards his stash, he found his collection and took away the most important ones.

“Where is my spy diary?”

“Where is it??” Allan angrily shouted.

He couldn’t find it.

“I left it here… l am sure…”

Suddenly, he heard the unknown sounds from below. Someone forcefully entered through the locked door. Gritting his teeth, he left his room.

As he looked around a corner. He saw a man wearing furred clothes made from hides and animal fur. They did not look that barbaric. In fact, they had accents of different colors and types, which made them tougher than leather armor, and they looked quite intimidating. It was the regular clothes of northern tribes when they went to war.

“So it is true.” Allan finally had his confirmation. As he was standing there, he backed a step away from the stairs. Wood creaked before his feet.

The man noticed the sound and went to look at Allan, who was frozen from this sudden situation. His face grinned as if he was looking at his prey.

“Shit!” Allan panicked, stumbling backward into a wall. “What a psychopath, he is going to kill me.” Stumbling at his feet, he summoned his courage. “You…”

He could hear slowly approaching steps from the stair.

Stabilizing his breath. He walked to the stairs while he took something from his pocket.

“Fuck off!” Allan shouted, and throw it away as he leaned from a corner. His foe not wearing any head armor. Ax in his back, he probably did not think that he would need it. He couldn't care less about his language at all. He heard more and more magical words in the pug of the Lonely Tiger. People there were never unbothered to let their words or feelings out.

Thud.

The knife penetrated his head, which was closest as he was walking upstairs. His face was still grinning, but the shock was in his eyes. He collapsed from the stairs. Dead.

“Serves you…” Allan mumbled to himself. His hands still shaking. He took his flying knives with him, as they were small enough to carry. “Such power. I am not even that proficient in throwing, so my power was definitely weak. It was the flying knife which made up for my shortcomings.” Allan sighed as he took another knife in his right hand and books in the other.

He approached the corpse, not looking at it at all. This was his first time killing another human being. It felt like nothing as he looked at the lost look on that man's face. Perhaps he had a family of his own or a son, like Allan's age. It was an older man with a fierce expression. This sight would be left in Allan's mind for a long time. Pulling out the knife from his head and storing his book in a bag.

He quickly wanted to leave by a back door, but another figure emerged from the main door. He was bleeding all over. His face was sweaty and in visible pain. With swords in both hands, which were significantly more bloodied than himself. Aura of a warrior around him.

“M-M-Mister Thomas?” Allan was shocked by this sudden visitor.

“I am glad to see you alive. Worse comes to worst. Isn’t it?” Thomas joked.

“Right… this is hard to believe. What about father?” Allan asked.

Thomas stumbled to his feet. Turning around to see a man in regular soldier leather armor with a released bow in his hand. “Allan, you know, I used to be a really good mercenary.” Thomas said to Allan as he turned around.

Taking his swords up against the charging man, who discarded his bow. Swinging his sword at his enemy. Thomas elegantly deflected the blow with his right sword and took a step forward. With a quick sweep, his left one slashed the throat of his opponent in one quick motion. The man fell to the ground with no defense left, or life.

“Fuckers…” Thomas cursed as he staggered. Allan, stunned by the fine sword arts, couldn’t find a word to say. He just watched as Thomas leaned to a side of a door. Closing it behind his back.

“We have been betrayed. Invaded and chances are. Not many are present.” Thomas stuttered.

“Your father won’t come. Probably… I am not sure at the moment. He tasked me to give you a hand or two. Seems like I will give you my whole body. Heheheh.” Thomas bitterly laughed.

“What is going on, Thomas??” Allan finally found the courage to ask him.

“Boris is a fucking liar, piece of shit, and traitor of this kingdom! If what your father told me, it is probably correct. I Can’t see it any other way. They have come from the northern shores.”

“Impossible! They have a much tougher sea than in the south! How could they?” Allan asked, in confusion.

“I did not ask them… Perhaps you could ask that fella over there.” Thomas pointed to stairs behind Allan.

“He is dead.” Allan explained.

“I see… That is unfortunate...”

“There is also something else… Boris is in cahoots with them. Somehow. Your father did not know it until the last moment. I just found out from one soldier. They are from the west off from the Northern nation. You probably get what it means… right?”

Allan fell speechless. “We are doomed?”

“Not necessarily. I have a friend in the capital... I wanted to take you there.”

“North is probably all gone now… But, I don’t have much more information than that.” Thomas panted. His back floated with blood. An arrow from earlier hit him in a vital spot.

It reminded Allan of some conflicts he read about. Kingdom, located in the west. Neighboring the Grusha kingdom from the east, and above that, was the Northern nation. Nearly 4 times larger than the kingdom of Grusha. Nation of the Dawn is its name. There were all kinds of rumors about them. Hundreds of years ago, they emerged victorious in many wars. Their hunger for territories was apparent, but surrounding nations and royal families came to a tacit understanding. Alliance to go against it. For the past decades, they did not begin any major wars.

“Thomas… Can I help you with something?” Asked Allan with teary eyes.

“Don’t make it dramatic. I don’t fear death. But… My promise to Clayton still stands. You need to be hard on yourself from now… here is a map. Go through the mountain pass. It is a few kilometers from here. Try to reach the main city and reach out to my friend from the East district. Her name is Vanessa of Red. She has a well-known restaurant called Peacock Rooftop. Tell her about Thomas Thorn. She still… owns me something.” Thomas coughed.

“Damn. I hoped to die in a…”

“Thomas? Mister THOMAS!” Allan started to shake his shoulders. Slowly coming to a realization that Thomas is dead. “He lost too much blood…”

Allan tried to make it easier for himself. Nothing could help him.

“Screw these freaking wars for some territories!!! Fuck the Dawn…”

“F-father….” Allan felt stunned by this scene. In his hands was a friend as well as a teaching figure he knew for a long time since he was little. He never expected him to die to protect him. “Why father made you do this...” Allan gritted his teeth in unwillingness. He would rather him to be alive and escape by himself. Unfortunately, what has happened could never go back.

Suddenly, screams of anguish were heard from outside. Allan could notice thuds and howling sounds in the noises of people's screams and the glitter of strange sounds of a fight.

Allan was still in shock, but before he did anything, all noise ceased to exist. Taking a glance at the near window. Beastly enormous eyes were looking at him in crimson colors.
.
.
.
.
One hour before the main gate was attacked,
Northeast of the city of Waan, In a governor's building. There was a building system, where was a huge military base. The training school was stationed there as well. Boris Timber was a major patron and had some say in the deals of the local military. Clayton was teaching students that studied military-grade skills as well as basic skills about taking care of their equipment, potential problems, and more.

Today, Boris pursued him to teach a combat lesson to official military personnel. It took half of a day to get it all sorted out. He wasn’t there alone. Boris contracted all major blacksmiths, mercenaries, and adventures to make it the best teaching experience.

Clayton did not think something was fishy about this. Major cities had always some new recruits or even veterans who needed some additional training. Contractors were common to hire. But this time, the number of them was simply too high.
Clayton had some information that he already confirmed, but could not take advantage of it. He was in a dilemma if he didn’t make a mistake or not.

After a while, it was his time for a blacksmithing lesson for the military-grade blacksmith of a higher level. They had their own building, where every contracted blacksmith was in charge of a few novices or intermediate-level blacksmiths. Clayton was the same. Working through the techniques he deemed worthy to teach them or further improve their shortcomings. He was quick and, to a point, going on and on, like a machine. He was used to teaching his son and after today; it made it clear to realize that his son's level was above most of them.