Khourhatin and his family ran through the burning city streets. They plunged through clouds of ash and smoke. They ducked to let scattering debris fly over their heads.

  Khourhatin's younger brother, Elidyr, sneaked a glance behind him. His eyes bulged at the monster.

  "Don't look back!" Khourhatin snapped at Elidyr. Getting more afraid than he already was would only hinder him. They needed to focus on hope of survival, not the threat of death.

  Elidyr nodded at Khourhatin and stared back at their destination, the City's southern gate. From such a distance it was only a small and blurry smudge. Between it and them, the river prollon cut through the city. The Logel Bridge arced over the rushing waters.

  Khourhatin glanced to the side and at his parents. Both of them were panting. Sweat streamed down their faces. Their legs shuddered. Running so far and for so long wasn't something they were used to. His mother, Seldanna, kept up with him and Elidyr quite well despite her clear exhaustion. But his father, Kelvhan was slowing.

  There was no chance Khourhatin would leave them behind. Death was preferable to letting loved ones die. So maybe he and Elidyr would have to carry him. Would they be strong enough and fast enough? No, on second thought it wasn't a question of could or couldn't. They would have to do it, even if it cost their lives. There wouldn't be any other way. Khourhatin scanned the area for a wagon they could push his father in. Or even better, a horse they could ride away on.

  There was nothing. All he could see were burning buildings, billowing smoke, bleeding citizens, and ruined buildings.

  "It's ok," Elidyr said with a big grin on his face. "We'll survive."

  But the only thing grinning was his mouth. His voice quivered. His red-shot eyes bulged with terror. He was the youngest of them. He was probably the most afraid. Yet he dragged a grin up and onto his face. And Khourhatin understood why. Because the sight of it eased his racing heart. Even though doom enveloped him, at least he was with family who he could love and trust.

  So Khourhatin forced himself to smile back before turning to the city's southern gate in the distance. They stepped onto the bridge. They were getting closer.

  Khourhatin's back felt hot. An orange lustre spread across the ground in front of him and around him. It got brighter and brighter. What was going on? He spun. A swirling ball of flame shot at him.

  His brother was fast. He was agile. He could take care of himself. Right? His mother and father were tired. They wouldn't be able to dodge. He had to save them.

  He leapt to the side. He tackled his parents to the ground.

  He grimaced as the fire shot past his back, burning it. But only a bit. He jumped to his feet. He spun. The fireballs' impact punched a crater into the ground, shattering stone and splashing dirt. But something within the crater burned. A small form. A small person. A small boy. A familiar looking boy.

  Tears welled up in Khourhatin's eyes. He gripped his chest as if a hammer rammed into his heart.

  Elidyr's corpse burned in the crater. His clothes blackened into ash. His skin melted, revealing writhing flesh and gleaming bone. He wanted to fall to his knees and mourn the loss of his brother. But he could see the monster's shadow zooming across the cobbled road in his periphery. It shot towards him and his still living parents.

  He spun to them. They staggered to their feet. They continued running. The guilt of leaving his brother's corpse behind to burn stabbed him with a sting sharper than any knife, but there wasn't much they could do. They had to survive.

  "I'm sorry," he muttered as they sprinted over the city's bridge.

  He chewed on the inside of his mouth. Wasn't there something else he could've done? Did he really have to leave his brother to die like that? If he pushed him out of the way then his parents would've died. No matter what, someone would've died. Unless he was just too dumb to think of something else. What was wrong with him?

  Maybe he should've been the one to die. He slowed his run. Maybe the only way they could survive was by him staying back. If he could distract the monster by throwing a rock at it and then running in a different direction, then maybe his parents would live. He'd die, but two lives are more valuable than one. It'd be worth it.

  The flapping of the monster's wings battered his ears. It was getting too close. He began to turn towards it whilst reaching for a rock on the ground.

  "Thanks for saving our lives, son," his father said by his side. He spun back to where he was running. He glanced at his parents. They smiled at him with anxious eyes.

  "Elidyr's death wasn't your fault," Seldanna said. "We couldn't have asked for a better son."

  "We'll all survive," Kelvhan said, grabbing Khourhatin's arm and yanking him onwards. They must've noticed him turning around, maybe even predicting what he was intending to do. "There's no point if we don't try our best to do it together."

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  Khourhatin involuntarily smiled at their kind words. He felt hesitant to follow them onwards, but he did it anyway. He was always a bit rebellious, but now wasn't the time. He couldn't trust himself, but he certainly could trust them. He sped up his run into a sprint but stayed slow enough so that he was adjacent to his parents.

  They plunged into the city's southern wall's shadow. They ran through the open gate's gap. The flapping of the monster's wings quietened.

  But then a crash sounded behind Khourhatin. Something blurred in Khourhatin's periphery. He glanced to his side. Towards his parents. Fragments of wood splashed his face. Splinters pricked his cheeks.

  Blood splattered his face and torso. Large clumps of wood smashed into the ground beside him. Presumably debris from a demolished building. Must've splashed away from the impact and crashed into the ground beside him. Crashed into where his parents were.

  They laid beneath the rubble. The debris crushed them. Cracked wood stabbed them. Blood pooled out of them. He couldn't even hear them make a noise.

  Tears rolled down Khourhatin's face. All of the adrenaline and energy that allowed him to run faster than ever before vanished from his body. He fell to his knees. What was the point? What did he even have to protect?

  The ground rumbled as Khourhatin heard the flapping of wings beat gusts of wind against the ground. He turned. Glimmering red scales blotted out the sun. Blood dripped down from gleaming fangs, each tooth the size of a grown man. Steam and smoke spilled out of its maw and swirled up and into the sky. Each flap of its wings seemed to shake everything nearby, wobbling Khourhatin.

  Running was hopeless. Even if he could, what was there to run to? What was there to run for? He had nothing. So he ripped off a cracked piece of wood from the rubble that killed his parents. It was sharp. It wouldn't do anything to the beast. It wouldn't do anything to anyone. He couldn't do anything to anyone. But he didn't want to end his life sobbing on his knees.

  He wanted to do it with a scowl on his face. He wanted to die with violent intentions shot up at his enemy. These monsters, they all needed to die. He wasn't the one to do it, but how he wished he could. And that's what he chose to do in his last moments. He dragged himself up to a stand. He glared up at the winged-beast. He stared into depths of its widening maw that revealed the flickering of emerging flames. He chose to die fighting an impossible battle. What else did he have but a futile and delusional rage?

  He thought he might as well indulge in it as he ran at the dragon with a yell. Swirling fire shot out of its mouth and towards Khourhatin. Tears rushed across his face. They glistened in the air behind him.

  There was no way he could survive the incoming ball of flame. He smiled. Finally time to rest. Maybe in the afterlife he could see his parents and brother alive and well. Hopefully the monster hunters left in the world would avenge him.

  A gleaming shape blurred in his periphery. Something smashed into him. He flew. The flames smashed into where he stood, punching a crater into the cobbled road, splashing shattered stone and burnt dirt up and into the air.

  Khourhatin's heart leapt. He didn't die. A person stood between him and the dragon. Golden plate armour glimmered all over his hulking form. His gauntleted hands clenched the hilt of a claymore that put the height of the tallest and widest of men to shame with its terrifying size.

  The man glanced up at the dragon with blank and bored eyes through the slits of his helmet. The dragon bristled at the sight of him. It flapped its wings, shooting up and away from them. Away from the man.

  Who was he? To make even a dragon afraid, he had to be extraordinary.

  He had to be a monster hunter.

  "What rank are you?" Khourhatin blurted out. He immediately bit his tongue. Why ask such a stupid question in such a situation? But he just felt like he had to know. He had to know as much as possible about this person. The hero who made a dragon feel fear. He needed to know everything.

  "S," the man said with a deadpan voice, as if he was stating what he had for breakfast. When in reality he was stating that he was the highest-ranked monster hunter in the continent's Hunter Sect. No wonder the dragon was afraid.

  No wonder the ground shook when he kicked off the ground to jump in the air. No wonder the impact of the leap formed a crater beneath him, pushed Khourhatin away, lifted him off his feet, and sent him flying a dozen metres. Pain ravaged his back and head when he crashed on the floor. But he didn't care. Nothing could decay the grin that spread across his face as his tear gushing eyes gazed up at the man blur up to the sky.

  The monster lurched when it spun and saw the monster hunter come towards it. It flapped its wings. It bared its fangs. It flickered fire in its maw. But it was too late.

  The man zoomed past the dragon, shooting up and into the clouds. The hiss of metal scraping against rock spread through the air. The dragon paused. Then blood burst out of its body. Two severed halves of its torso slid off each other. Blood, gore, and gleaming scales fell down to the city.

  Fire shot down from the clouds. These flames were different however. They were shaped like fire, but it was black. It blurred down at the dragon's shredded corpse like a javelin. Once they collided, the monster's corpse burned, melted, vapourized, and decayed into a puff of ash. It splashed over the city.

  A ghostly and ethereal cloud of glowing red light shimmered from within the ash. What was that?

  The monster hunter's glimmering golden form blurred as he shot down from the clouds and back into the crater that he formed when he first jumped. He crashed into the ground with a crouch, rumbling the stones and scattering everything in the nearby city away. Including Khourhatin who stumbled and tripped onto his back once again

  He scrambled back to his feet. He ran towards where the monster hunter was. Questions, praises, and compliments flooded his mind.

  But he was gone. He vanished as if he was never there. Maybe he could meet him again if he was the victim of another monster attack. Or maybe if he went to the Hunter Sect's Citadel he could see him there.

  No. Neither was an ideal way of meeting him again. The best path was to become a monster hunter and then look in the mirror twenty years after. He clenched his fists, wiped the tears off his cheeks, and marched out of the city.

  He vowed to become a monster hunter. But not just any silly monster hunter. But the best. He vowed to become just like the man who saved him that day.