The last manifestation

After that, Ace asked the man to show him the places the creatures had damaged. They both stood up. Ace bowed politely to the grandmother before leaving, showing her the respect, she deserved, and a smile of admiration spread across her face. They walked among the crops—plants bearing fruits and vegetables close to the ground. There, they found signs of destruction: overturned soil, broken branches, and fruits that, although rotting, clearly showed bite marks from small mouths.

They then headed toward the barns. But before they arrived, Ace heard a sound among the plants. He extended his hand in front of the old man, stopping him, while his eyes scanned the branches, trying to locate the source of the noise. The old man gently patted his shoulder and said in a reassuring voice:

"There's nothing to worry about, son."

After saying this, he moved toward the sound, with Ace following cautiously. The old man pushed aside some branches, and what they saw a few meters ahead was entirely unexpected. Before them stood a small child—no more than seven years old. His hair was long and blonde, trailing behind him like threads of gold spun by light itself. His skin was pale, though smudged with dirt, and his blue eyes shimmered with childhood innocence, carrying an unmistakable purity despite the fatigue they revealed.

The child wore a small straw hat, just like the old man's, but newer—seemingly made for him recently. In his tiny hands, he held a small sickle, carefully harvesting fruit and placing it into a straw basket. Every movement reflected dedication and sincerity. From time to time, he paused to wipe the sweat from his brow before resuming work, seemingly tireless.

The old man approached him calmly, and when the child noticed him, a pure smile spread across his face—like a flawless morning light. It was a smile filled with innocent love, free from pretense, giving him strength as though it could wipe away the fatigue of the past hours.

The child walked joyfully toward the old man, who knelt to be at the child's level and asked warmly, as if speaking to his own son:

"How's everything going, my boy?"

The child held up one of the fruits he had picked, wiped it with his sleeve to make it shine, then began speaking with childlike excitement and pride, detailing his work in the field as though his words were a reward in themselves.

The old man listened patiently, then patted the child's head lovingly, making the boy's face glow even brighter. But the moment didn't last long. When the child noticed the approaching stranger, the light in his eyes faded. The warmth of innocence withdrew, replaced by the caution of a child unfamiliar with outsiders. His expression changed, eyes widened, lips quivered, and he stepped back, seeking safety.

He looked at the young man approaching and instinctively hid behind the old man, clutching his robe with trembling hands—as if that piece of fabric could shield him from the world. The old man smiled and gently patted the child's head, then spoke in a calm, reassuring tone:

"Don't be afraid, son. This young man is here to help us. He's an adventurer, and he's going to rid us of those wicked creatures."

Upon hearing this, the child's tension eased slightly. He looked up at the old man with questioning eyes, his young mind trying to absorb the words. A faint glimmer of hope appeared on his face—but it dimmed again as the young man drew closer.

Ace knelt to the child's level, trying to seem less intimidating. He greeted him kindly; his eyes filled with genuine warmth and goodwill. Though the child sensed this, he couldn't yet shake his hesitation. He remained clinging to the old man, who said:

"Forgive the boy, son. He's very shy with strangers." Then, as though recalling something that might make the child proud, he added enthusiastically:

"Oh, right! Did you know—he's the one who drew the picture of the wild rabbit on the poster! He's very talented at drawing!"

Upon hearing this, Ace showed clear admiration and said in a soft voice filled with sincere praise:

"Really? That drawing was exceptional. It caught my eye—and it's the reason I took the job."

The child blushed, then peeked out from behind the old man, his cheeks reddened with shyness. It was obvious that the young man's words stirred a feeling he wasn't used to—praise from a stranger. Finally, his voice came out—a hesitant, shy whisper:

"R–really?"

Ace nodded in confirmation. The boy remained torn between the urge to hide and the desire to be proud. The old man then asked him to return home, but the child, with a sudden determination not seen before, insisted on continuing his work. The old man relented and said:

"Alright. But make sure to return home by sunset."

The child nodded happily and returned to picking fruit. Meanwhile, the man and Ace headed toward the barns, the boy watching Ace's back from afar, his eyes filled with curious wonder. He felt something unfamiliar stir within him—a feeling he had never experienced when meeting a stranger. There was something different about the young man, as if a hidden thread of fate connected them. He couldn't explain it, but his curiosity had been sparked. Still, he pushed those thoughts aside and returned to his work.

As they walked, Ace asked the old man:

"Isn't it dangerous to leave the boy alone, considering the farm's current situation?"

"Nova is stubborn. He doesn't give up easily when we ask him to stop working. So, we assign him simple tasks—watering plants, picking fruit—work that demands patience more than strength. Even so, he always tries to do more. As for leaving him alone, don't worry, son. Those wicked creatures don't appear until late at night. But even so, we never go out after sunset."

When the old man finished speaking, they stood before the barns—a large building housing various animals whose sounds blended together. As soon as they entered, Ace was struck by a familiar mix of smells—animals, damp feed, and dried blood.

The barn was spacious but bore the marks of time: cracked wooden walls, a pitted floor. Despite ongoing care, it seemed locked in a quiet battle against decay. Seeing the animals brought Ace a sense of comfort. Chickens, cows, goats—they weren't unusual, save for the colors of their feathers or fur. He approached a cow resting in a corner, her large eyes calm but weary, as though she had seen many anxious days. He slowly raised his hand to touch her head, but she didn't move. She only stared at him, as if weighing his presence—trying to understand whether he was a threat or simply… a visitor. He didn't touch her. He let her be.

Looking around, Ace noticed signs of makeshift repairs—cracked wood held together by mismatched nails, some crooked, as if hammered in by trembling hands. He could imagine who had done the work—perhaps the old man, worn by years, spending his days fixing what the creatures had damaged. Or maybe it was the boy, trying to leave his mark, to contribute something meaningful, even if small.

Near one of the walls, Ace noticed deep scratches—as if savage claws had gouged the wood mercilessly. Jagged, sharp lines carved through the panels. Dirt was scattered chaotically across the floor, a sign that the animals had panicked and fled in terror. Their quiet noises held an undertone of fear, a primal caution. The cows' moos were broken, and the chickens huddled in the corners of their cages, watching from the shadows.

Afterward, they exited the barn and headed to the back of the property, where the old man explained that the creatures came from that direction. Upon exiting through the wooden gate in the rear fence, Ace saw a field of grass stretching ahead. He soon noticed dark patches scattered across the ground. He bent down to examine them and immediately realized they were dried blood—intertwined with the grass and soil, remnants of a battle unseen.

Nearby, there were clear drag marks—long lines in the grass leading to a dense patch of tall weeds, forming a curtain that concealed what lay beyond.

After gathering all those details, Ace turned to the old man and told him that he would take another round of the area, motioning for him to feel free to leave. The man nodded gratefully and began to walk away. Ace then took one final look at the distant tall grasses, observing them for a few moments before heading off to search for any additional clues that might help him discern the true number of those creatures—their movement patterns, the sharpness of their claws and fangs, and most importantly… whether they had a hidden way into the farm, other than simply leaping over the low-height fence.