Sweat stung Laios's eyes as he swung the wooden practice sword.
Cold autumn wind swept through the small backyard, but his body burned with exhaustion.
His boots slipped in the loose dirt, his grip on the leather hilt faltering as his muscles screamed in protest.
"Again," Arthur grunted, parrying the strike with effortless ease.
His father didn't even blink as their wooden blades clashed with a dull thud.
"Keep your center of gravity low, Laios. If you lose your balance, a real beast will tear you apart before you can blink."
Breathing heavily, the fourteen-year-old adjusted his stance.
He forced his aching legs to bend, digging his toes into the cold, damp earth of their garden.
He lunged forward once more, executing a quick downward slash that aimed for his father's shoulder.
Wood slammed against wood with a sharp, echoing crack.
Arthur caught the blow on the flat of his training weapon, redirecting the force with a subtle twist.
With a swift flick of his wrist, he disarmed Laios, sending the wooden sword spinning into the tall grass.
"Better, but you're still hesitating at the moment of impact," Arthur said, his rugged face softening slightly.
He reached out, his massive, calloused hand gently adjusting the tight woolen cap pulled low over Laios's head.
"Never let this slip, son. Not even when you're exhausted. Your life depends on keeping your heritage hidden."
Laios nodded quickly, reaching up to tug the rough fabric further down over his ears.
Underneath the wool lay his deepest, most dangerous secret.
Slightly pointed ears, inherited from a mother he had never known, marked him as a hybrid.
In the Kingdom of Elarion, half-breeds were hunted down and executed without trial.
Racial purity was enforced with bloody ruthlessness by the royal crown and the church.
For fourteen years, Arthur had kept Laios hidden in this remote village of Oakhaven, far from the prying eyes of the king's inquisitors.
"I will be careful, Father," Laios promised, his voice cracking slightly with the strain of puberty and fatigue.
He walked over to retrieve his wooden sword, his fingers tracing the worn grooves in the ash wood.
"I want to get stronger. Strong enough to join the Iron Horn Guild and become a Hunter so we don't have to hide forever."
Arthur sighed, a shadow of deep-seated grief passing over his weathered features.
"Being a Hunter is a dangerous life, Laios. But it might be the only way you can ever truly be free."
He looked toward the small wooden grave marker on the hill overlooking their cottage, his eyes growing misty.
Elena, Laios's mother, lay buried under that ancient oak tree.
She had died during childbirth, a tragedy that could have been easily avoided with a simple healing spell.
But the village lacked medical resources, and the nearby human lords had refused to send a healer to a settlement of low-born peasants.
"I will make you proud," Laios said, clenching his jaw as he remembered his father's tears on the anniversary of her death.
"I won't let her memory be in vain. I'll master the sword and the magic within me."
Arthur smiled, placing a heavy, reassuring hand on his son's shoulder.
"You already make me proud, son. Now, let's head inside. The sun is setting, and the air is getting biting cold."
They walked back to their modest cottage, the smell of pine and dry leaves filling the autumn air.
Inside, a modest vegetable stew bubbled over the hearth, offering a brief respite from the harsh realities of their isolated life.
---
Night fell quickly, wrapping Oakhaven in a thick blanket of absolute dark.
Dinner sat half-eaten on the wooden table as an eerie, sudden silence fell over the forest.
Usually, nocturnal creatures filled the woods with a chorus of chirps and hoots, but tonight, everything was dead quiet.
Tonight, there was nothing but the sound of the wind.
Arthur stood up abruptly, his eyes narrowing as he stared at the wooden door.
His hand dropped to the hilt of his real iron broadsword, which always rested near the stone fireplace.
"Father?" Laios asked, his wooden spoon clattering against his clay plate.
"Quiet," Arthur whispered, his posture instantly rigid.
Every muscle in his father's body was tense, like a steel spring wound too tight, his eyes darting to the window.
A sudden, bloodcurdling shriek shattered the silence of the night.
It was followed immediately by the desperate, agonizing screams of their neighbors.
Laios felt a chill run down his spine as the smell of burning wood and copper drifted through the cracks in the walls.
"They're here," Arthur muttered, his voice dropping to a dangerous, low quiet.
He pulled his sword from its scabbard with a sharp, metallic ring that echoed in the small room.
"Our village wards... they've been destroyed by something powerful."
Red light began to flicker through the windowpanes, casting eerie shapes on the walls.
Laios rushed to the glass, his heart hammering against his ribs in a frenzy of fear.
Outside, the peaceful village of Oakhaven was turning into a literal hell of fire and blood.
Grotesque, wolf-like beasts with glowing crimson eyes tore through the thatched-roof cottages.
Villagers ran in terror, only to be cut down by the monsters' jagged claws and razor-sharp teeth.
Fire spread from roof to roof, hungry flames devouring everything in their path.
"Laios, get behind the table!" Arthur roared as the sound of scratching claws echoed on their own roof.
Heavy thuds rattled the ceiling boards, showering them with dust and dried straw as the monsters tried to dig their way in.
Before Laios could move, the heavy front door exploded inward in a shower of splinters.
Splintered oak flew through the air like deadly shrapnel, slicing through the air.
A massive, shadow-fleshed hound lunged through the opening, its jaws snapping inches from Laios's face.
Arthur stepped in front of his son, his broadsword cutting a gleaming arc through the dark.
Black blood sprayed across the floor as the beast was cleaved in two by the powerful strike.
Another monster leaped from the smoke, targeting Arthur's exposed side with razor-sharp claws.
Arthur parried, but a third beast lunged from the shadows, sinking its teeth deep into his thigh.
A guttural cry of pain escaped Arthur's lips as he fell to one knee.
He swung his sword blindly, decapitating the beast attached to his leg, but the damage was already done.
Blood poured from the deep puncture wounds, pooling rapidly on the dry wooden floorboards.
"Father!" Laios screamed, his mind blanking with pure, unadulterated panic.
He grabbed his wooden training sword, rushing toward the doorway where more beasts gathered.
He swung wildly, but a heavy blow from a beast's paw sent him flying backward across the room.
Pain flared in Laios's ribs as he crashed hard against the stone hearth.
His vision blurred, but he forced himself to stand, his eyes locking onto his bleeding father.
Arthur was struggling to rise, his broadsword trembling in his hand as more shadows gathered outside.
---
Flames licked at the walls, turning the small cottage into a blazing furnace of heat and smoke.
Thick, black smoke filled the air, making every breath a painful battle for oxygen.
Laios coughed violently, his eyes burning as he crawled toward his injured father.
"Get up, please get up," Laios begged, tears streaming down his soot-stained cheeks.
He grabbed Arthur's heavy shoulders, hauling him backward with every ounce of strength he possessed.
Somehow, he managed to drag his father behind the shattered oak table, which now lay on its side as a barrier.
Behind this makeshift shield, they were temporarily hidden from the beasts outside.
But the heat was becoming unbearable, and the roof above them groaned under the weight of the roaring fire.
Arthur's face was pale, his eyes unfocused as he clutched his bleeding chest.
"Laios..." Arthur whispered, his voice weak and trembling as life slipped away.
He reached out, his hand wet with his own blood, and grabbed Laios's wrist.
A sticky, crimson handprint smeared across the boy's skin, a permanent mark of this nightmare.
"You have to run," Arthur wheezed, coughing up a spatter of dark blood.
"No, I won't leave you!" Laios cried, his voice cracking with unbearable grief.
"I'm not strong enough to lose you, Father!"
Arthur squeezed his wrist tighter, his grip surprisingly strong despite his failing body.
"Listen to me, Laios," his father commanded, forcing his eyes to lock onto his son's.
"Never let them see your ears. Hide who you are. This world will show you no mercy."
"But Father—" Laios started, but his voice was drowned out by a sudden, terrifying sound.
A heavy, rhythmic thudding shook the ground, vibrating through the burning floorboards.
It was the sound of massive hooves, slow and deliberate, approaching the ruined cottage.
Suddenly, an overwhelming pressure descended upon the room, snuffing out the remaining air.
It felt like the very atmosphere had turned to lead, crushing the lungs of anyone within.
Laios gasped for breath, his heart hammering against his ribs in a frenzy of pure terror.
Even the snarling beasts outside went completely silent, whimpering as they fled.
A massive shadow stretched across the threshold, blotting out the light from the raging fires outside.
Standing in the doorway was a figure of absolute nightmare, radiating pure power.
---
Step by step, the towering figure entered the burning cottage.
He stood over eight feet tall, his massive torso covered in dark, polished steel armor that reflected the dancing flames.
His head was that of a bull, with thick, curved horns that looked sharp enough to pierce iron.
Unlike the mindless beasts that had ravaged the village, this creature moved with a terrifying grace.
His golden eyes burned with an intelligent, cold malice as he surveyed the ruined room.
In his massive, clawed hand, he held a blood-slicked greatsword, its blade humming with dark magic.
Asterius, the Sovereign Minotaur, stopped in the center of the burning room.
His gaze locked onto the overturned oak table where Laios and his father hid.
"A pathetic hiding spot for a former royal guard," Asterius rumbled, his voice shaking the remaining roof tiles.
Laios froze, his entire body trembling so violently his teeth clicked together.
He wanted to shield his father, to stand up and fight, but the suffocating pressure of the monster's aura pinned him to the floor.
He could only watch in helpless horror as the giant stepped closer.
Arthur tried to raise his sword, but his arm lacked the strength, and the blade slipped from his bloody fingers.
"Laios... run..." his father whispered, his voice barely a breath.
But there was nowhere to run.
Flipping the heavy oak table aside with effortless ease, the giant shattered it into splinters.
He looked down at the bleeding man and the terrified boy, his expression devoid of any mercy.
"Your bloodline ends tonight," the Minotaur general declared, his voice cold and final.
Asterius raises his greatsword, but instead of swinging, he snuffs out Arthur's life with a precise, targeted stomp and raises a silver medallion bearing the crest of the human royal family, whispering, 'One threat neutralized.'