I Need a Hero

With the flames flickering in his, all he could think of was the despair these people were suffering. Letting out a shaky breath, he rushed straight into the heart of the flames. Forcing people out of their homes, collecting children from the local orphanage, and taking them down to the ice-cold river. Hoping the water would sooth their burns, to supply water for the children that needed a moment to take a drink and calm down, or to have them feel safe away from the flames.

“Rikon,” A small voice called.

“Yes,” he replied patiently.

“Thank you,” the child said, voice threatening to break out into sobs.

The man crouched down to eye level, caressing the child’s face comforting. Rikon herded the child into a hug, petting the child’s dirt crusted hair. The child tugged at his shirt, sobbing into his shoulder, he just stood there holding the sobbing creature.

“It’s okay, you’re safe now,” Rikon whispered affectionately. He picked up the child, making sure his face stayed nestled in his shoulder. Petting the messy hair of the child, he paused. A loose hold on the child’s head and shoulders. It would be so easy to snap their neck.

He stood there unmoving for the longest while before a muffled.

“Are you okay,” escaped the kid’s mouth.

“Of course, in matter of fact. You should take a quick nap, I’ll make sure nothing happens to you,” Rikon replied. He continued with the petting; the child took their sweet time nodding off. But when they did, Rikon shifted them onto his hip, supporting them with a single arm.

He snapped his fingers, the villagers turned to each other blood lust clear in their eyes. He stood afar watching as the once peaceful town tore each other apart bit by bit. A wide smile plastered on his face. The screeches of pain, the blood of the fallen, and the roars of victory were music to Rikon’s ears. This continued until there was one bloodied body left, it took sight of him. Rikon’s once joyous smile turned into a frown. Watching at the person sprinted over. Rikon growled, he held out his hand, palm upwards. He clenched his fingers to his palm, blood of the fallen shooting off the ground and through the villager running at him.

And down the villager went. Falling at Rikon’s feet, he wasn’t impressed in the slightest. Turning his back to the burnt and bloody town, he left with the only living being left, a child.