Witch's Daughter And The Devil's Son

Clink! Clank!

In the heart of the dense woods, the clash of metal echoed through the trees as two groups engaged in a furious battle.

"Your Highness, that mysterious group is in conflict with the smugglers. It seems today fortune favors us," a knight whispered, their steps stealthy as they closed in on the source of the commotion.

Cian's eyes gleamed with determination. Today, escape was not an option. Alongside capturing the smugglers, he intended to uncover the woman who led this mysterious group. Enough of this hide and seek now.

Drawing closer, Cian's party took cover behind the boulders, observing as the clashing swords suddenly fell silent. Before them, the mysterious group found themselves surrounded by additional smugglers, blades pointed menacingly.

"It appears the smugglers have turned the tables on them this time. They've laid a trap to capture this group and their leader," a spy murmured, barely audible over the tension.

Cian saw it unfold before him. "Repeating the same trick won't suffice. These smugglers are not ones to be deceived repeatedly," he declared, rising tall and firm, hand firmly grasping his sword hilt.

"Your Highness, shall we intervene?" one of the knights inquired.

In response, Cian advanced, blade already unsheathed. The knights, understanding their liege's resolve, followed suit, prepared for battle. They could hear the leader of the smuggler group warning the captured group.

"...you think you could fool us again? How presumptuous," the leader of smuggler group laughed. "We have been planning to capture you for a long time and make you pay for all those losses you caused us. Each one of you is going to die while we feed you those poisonous herbs and let you know the taste of those precious herbs before you die."

"Try it?" A woman's voice challenged the man.

Even from a distance, Cian's gaze locked onto her, a figure cloaked in defiance, glaring at her enemy. Though her face remained obscured by dark cloth, her eyes spoke volumes, fearless and unyielding. Gripping two short swords, she stood prepared for battle, fully aware of their outnumbered status. She was the sort who would rather break than bend.

"A woman?" the man taunted, his words dripping with disdain. "No wonder you're dwarfed by these burly men. I'm curious what beauty lies beneath, to muster such audacity," he jeered, motioning to his cohorts. "Unveil her face. If she is a beauty, she's mine for the night. If not, she's open to any takers."

Cian watched with growing displeasure as one of the men approached her, intending to carry out the order. Yet, before he could intervene, a pained cry echoed through the forest.

"You're not even worthy of even touching the hem of my garment," the woman spat, withdrawing her sword after slicing the man's hand. There was a unusual pride in her voice and her gaze as if the people in front of her were not even worthy of her single glance.

Such a prideful woman!

Impressed by her defiance amidst dire circumstances, Cian couldn't help but marvel at her courage. Yet, he couldn't shake the sense of impending danger looming over her slim chances of survival.

The smuggler leader, towering and imposing, seethed with fury. "You act brave despite your imminent defeat, you little slut? Seems like you want me to personally uncover your face."

She raised her swords in her defence, but the next moment one of her comrades fell to the ground, a smuggler's blade piercing his body, snuffing out his life, taking her by surprise.

"Stay in your place, or your people will suffer the consequences," the leader warned her, a threat that forced her to restrain herself. It was evident she harbored deep concern for her comrades.

"Leader," one of her men interjected, "protect yourself. We're prepared to lay down our lives for you."

Her resolve wavered. As a proud leader, how could she allow her people to perish? She reluctantly sheathed her sword and remained silent, torn by the weight of responsibility.

"Leader, you can't—Ugh!" Another of her men fell victim to a swift and fatal blow. Though rage burned within her, she held herself back, forced to watch as the smuggler leader approached, intent on revealing her face.

But just as a man reached out to uncover her, a sudden groan of pain pierced the air. The hand poised to touch her face bore a deep gash, a small dagger having struck with lethal precision, sliced open his wrist.

"Dare lay a hand on her again, and you'll find your entire body in pieces," the dagger's owner declared, fearlessly advancing towards them. His gaze locked onto the pair of beautiful eyes peering through the dark cloth concealing her face.

"Kill them all, but spare her for me. Even half-dead, she's worth my attentions," the smuggler leader raged, his fury matched only by the agony of his injury.

In the ensuing chaos, another clash of swords erupted as Cian's knights surged forward, joining the fray. Now, three groups faced off amidst the tumult of battle.

"Your Highness, watch your flank. They outnumber us," Eliot cautioned, poised for combat.

"Leave that leader to me," Cian commanded, his focus split between engaging any adversary that crossed his path and the woman whose every move captivated him. There was an inexplicable allure to her fighting prowess, a graceful dance amidst the chaos that held his attention like the finest of arts.

In the midst of battle, he noticed her stealing glances his way, observing him with a keen eye as if pondering his presence and intent. The gap between them gradually closed as the bodies of fallen foes littered the ground, their combined skill beginning to turn the tide in their favor.

They successfully defeated the smugglers group despite being lowered in numbers.

As instructed by Cian, the leader of the smugglers was left for him to deal with as Eliot captured him for his liege. Finally when all was over, Eliot brought him to Cian and the woman standing next to him, pushing that leader to kneel in front of them.

"You will regret what you did today," that leader growled in a defeat and anger, seeing how all his men were either captured or were dead. "You don't know who you are going against by doing this."

"Shut up," Cian said in a lazy tone as if his words were giving him earaches, "When faced with death, you scums have nothing new to say."

The woman regarded Cian, curiosity glinting in her eyes. Though uncertain of his identity, she sensed he posed no threat, allowing him to take the lead as events unfolded.

"Who are you?" The leader's question mirrored the woman's curiosity.

"Shouldn't you be pleading for mercy instead?" Cian countered, his tone even, yet his gaze conveyed a profound disdain, as though regarding the man as little more than a mere insect to be squashed beneath his heel. His aura of authority made it abundantly clear—he was no ordinary individual.

"Do you know why you're still breathing?" Cian inquired, his voice carrying a weight of ominous implication.

"If you think I will give you any information, then you are mistaken," the leader said, "I would rather die."

Cian chuckled softly, a display of how he perceived the leader's stubbornness as folly. "Your death wish shall be granted, indeed. But before you depart this world, allow me to impart some wisdom to you, so perhaps in your next life, you'll refrain from repeating your mistakes."

"What do you mean?" The leader's tone betrayed his growing unease at Cian's ominous words.

"In battle, regardless of your opponent's gender, even if she is a woman, they are warriors worthy of respect, not objects for your amusement," Cian explained calmly. In one swift motion, the tip of his sword pierced just above the man's left collarbone, eliciting a cry of agony.

"You rather kill her right there with your sword like a warrior than humiliating her with your nasty words." The sword slowly made its way further deep as Cain continued to speak, "Remember this in your next life time if you even deserve one," and pierced that sword further deeper till it reached his heart and man took his last breath.

As if nothing happened, Cian put his foot on leader's shoulder, pushing him away and withdrawing his sword swiftly from his body. The lifeless body of the man collapsed on the ground while his men, whoever was left alive, were left scared to see the end of their leader who was supposed to be strongest of them all.

The woman found herself surprised by Cian's words, a flicker of appreciation glimmering in her eyes. It was evident that this man held genuine respect for women, yet she remained vigilant, unwilling to let her guard down.

"Who are you?" she inquired, her voice steady despite the curiosity that gnawed at her.

Cian returned her gaze, his demeanor composed and steadfast. "I could ask you the same," he replied calmly.

"I fear you may not receive an answer," she conceded.

"My response remains unchanged," he countered, unwavering in his resolve.

For a moment, silence hung between them, each refusing to yield ground to the other. They knew well that neither would relent in their quest for answers.

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