"Let her go!" Anselm yelled as he was pinned down by two young ruffians who looked to be in their early 20's.

He was lying on the floor of an abandoned building made of bricks and mortar, with wooden scaffolding and broken boxes lying against the walls haphazardly.

The youth was covered with many wounds and bruises and held down by the men. Right now, the rest of his group of street-rats were nowhere to be seen, presumably they had separated to their own ways and devices after encountering Lars and "saving" Ilya from him.

At the same time, another thug held Ilya's arms behind her back as their leader, a middle-aged man dressed leather armour, looked on, smiling lasciviously.

"If it's money you want, we'll earn more! All she has is 1 silver and a few coppers, we have barely anything!" He struggled and tried to squirm out of his captors' grip but to no avail.

The middle-aged man sneered as he heard this, but did not take his perverted gaze off the crying small girl before him.

"Money...? Alright! If you can give me 10 silvers by tomorrow, I'll return your little sister to you!" Then he sent an evil gaze at the boy and added, "But until then, your sister will have to pay interest with her body! Hahahah!"

"NO! You can't--" Anselm yelled at the top of his lungs, before one of the ruffians kicked him in the mouth, leaving the metallic taste of blood and silencing the spirited boy. Nevertheless, he did not stop trying to resist, prompting the young men to curse in annoyance and gag him with a dirty, soiled cloth before they tied him up.

"Mhhmphph!!!" He tried to shout through the gag, but only caused himself to nearly choke on the rags in his mouth.

He could only watch on in horror as the monsters began to reach their hands out to a.s.sault his beloved little sister, not related by blood but who he had taken as his little sister who he would protect. Blood and tears mixed together on his face as he gnashed his teeth as hard as he could then thrashed about, in the hopes of getting free before it was too late.

His struggles only triggered the ire of his captors who began kicking him with their tips of their boots in his stomach, chest, sides and ribs. Regardless of how much they hurt him, he had only one thing in his mind - to save Ilya from being defiled and destroyed.

But no matter how much he fought and squirmed and desperately fought against his bonds and a.s.sailants, he was powerless to resist and change their fate. He hated himself, hated the evil demons before him, hated this depraved world that stole his and Ilya's happiness all for the sake of lining some corrupt politicians pockets.

If only... If only he had the power to change everything, he would kill them all! So that no more victims would ever appear again!

Alas, his thoughts were futile; for in the jungle of the world, might makes right and the weak are merely trampled on as playthings, cattle or insects, not even treated as humans.

In his despair, he did something he swore he would never do again, not since all his parents' friends had turned their back to his sorrowful pleas of help, not since they had colluded to steal his family, home and inheritance.

He called out for help.

'Someone... Please... Anyone... Help...!!!'

His vision became clouded by red, his own blood dripped down his forehead and kept him from seeing clearly, but he still tried hard as he could to keep his eyes on the scene before him, unwillingness flooding his soul. But soon, even his wish to not take his eyes away was denied as the kicks and punches knocked him dizzy, sending his vision swimming with stars.

'No...!!!!!!!!!'

Then suddenly the kicks and blows stopped.

He heard quick footsteps before 2 thuds beside him, followed by another two sounds of something smaller but heavy hitting the ground.

Then in barely an instant after that, he heard a few steps then the sound of a jump; then something sharp slicing through the air, followed by two men's cries of alarm and one girl's cry of shock.

Then two more thuds one after the other, before silence - apart from the sobbing cries of a young girl.

'No... What... What's going on...? He fought to maintain his consciousness, but could not - he blacked out.

* * * * *

[Lars' Point of View]

Lars sighed.

What was he doing...?

At first he had felt guilty for giving the girl a silver coin, but soon he realised that the four men had accosted the two children not for the money, but for their carnal, depraved desires.

Even as he was filled with relief that he was not the one who brought the calamity down on the brother-sister pair's heads, he felt the churning of rage fill his belly, before he chided himself.

'No no no no... Lars, you will NOT get involved in every single thing that happens! Remember your mission! Remember your homeland! Remember Moira...' He blinked when he thought of Moira.

...What would Moira want him to do...?

He hesitated but for an instant, before das.h.i.+ng forward to launch two swift strikes at the men who were soon going to beat the boy to death.

*s.h.i.+ng! s.h.i.+ng!!*

As the beautiful metallic sword light slashed through the wind, two heads were separated from the bodies they had belonged to, sailing into the air before landing on the ground with a *plop* sound.

Without any pause in his movements, he pivoted and leapt forward to rescue the girl before she was scarred for life. He swung the replica Brightstar in a beautiful arc, one sword and one slash shearing through the sky to judge the two sinners with their sentence: Death.

Even as the bodies of the leader and his right-hand man began to topple and fall, Lars landed and wrapped Ilya up in his cloak to keep her from the blood and the sight of the dead bodies. He held the sobbing girl tight to his side, trying to comfort her.

Then he half-carried half-dragged the still delirious and fearful girl over to the unconscious Anselm's side to use healing spells on the boy, while looking around watchfully in case he had been discovered.

He sighed while healing the boy with one hand and trying to calm the girl down with his other.

What was he going to do with these two kids...?

* * * * *

[Late afternoon]

In the end, he had been forced to track down Khalid and the supply wagon troupe. They had been extremely hesitant to take the children with them to the Arena as junior servants, but they had been even more fearful of the demonic slayer than they were reluctant.

Finally, they agreed - though in fact, they had not dared to say a word of protest since the start.

As a token of grat.i.tude, Lars pressed 2 platinum coins into Khalid's hands - the equivalent of 200 gold coins, or nearly a full year's wages for a 100 wagon workers! Split among the 20 odd men... That was more than 5 years wages per person!

Khalid and the other men's eyes instantly looked like they had turned into gold coins at the sight of the great wealth before them. They were not afraid of being robbed in the city due to their esteemed status as Duke Silvan's people, and they could easily hire far more guards with that money.

And so the decision was made. The two children would follow Khalid back to the Arena for a life that was at least better than living - or more likely dying - on the streets.

Lars bid goodbye to the two stunned and overwhelmed children who could not accept or process the situation before them. They had thanked him repeatedly, profusely, non-stop, to the point it became an annoyance.

In fact, it had got on his nerves so much that he nearly raised his voice to ask them to shut up and stop thanking him - but he changed his mind and spoke gently when he saw the looks of fear surfacing on the two children's faces.

It was clear that the traumatic experience wouldn't be so easily erased. Despite his saving them physically, he knew that it would take many years for them to be redeemed mentally, psychologically and emotionally.

Khalid thought quickly and made some preparations; in the end it was decided that the whole troupe would not stay the night - they would make haste to leave before sundown.

At this, the girl began crying to ask to say goodbye to all her precious brothers and sisters, Anselm scolded her gently, saying that they should not implicate or endanger anyone else in their escape. The quicker they went, the fewer people knew, the better.

Lars was surprised at the fiery boy's unexpected maturity and calmness in this harrowing situation, he seemed to have a good head on him as well as a caring heart for his little sister. He nodded, then turned away to leave despite the heavy feeling in his heart to see them go. He shook his head at his own silliness. Why the sentimental feelings...? He didn't know even know them for more than a few hours, anyway!

He bid farewell once more to Khalid and the kids before beginning to leave - before a small and frail frame crashed into him from behind in an embrace.

He looked back and saw the beautiful and adorable blonde girl Ilya hugging his back, crying. This time it was in a far greater grat.i.tude.

In the end, she couldn't even form the words 'Thank you' properly due to the emotions of relief and thankfulness welling up in her heart, but he didn't mind.

He patted her on the head and gently pried her arms off, giving her a quick hug. Then he looked at Anselm, nodding to him.

"Young, strong and brave man!"

"Y-yes, Mr...?" The teenage boy gave him a grin, his teeth somewhat healed by Lars' healing magics.

"Take good of your sister, okay...?"

"I will! And, thank you, again and again,thank you, Mr...! I'll... We... We WILL pay you back someday! Somehow, somehow we will!"

Lars smiled and quickly departed, stopping when he had turned the first corner.

He shook his head as was his habit, mocking himself for his impulsiveness and tut tut-ing himself for being so soft, then smiled tenderly.

He was happy.

Despite his derailing of his own mission and sidetracking his objectives, he was happy. He could follow his heart, he could be true to himself - and save others where no one had come to his rescue, all those years ago.

And as he carried on reminiscing and enjoying the feelings of satisfaction at helping others, he closed his eyes and let the tears of joy stream down his cheeks. He was glad that he had made it away from his acquaintances in time.

He didn't want to cry in front of others.