The area reached its peak of noise but suddenly fell into an eerie silence. Not a cricket chirped nor a bird sang. Only the humming wind remained, swaying the tall grass in rhythmic waves.

     As the blaring gunshots subsided, a profound silence settled in, punctuated only by the fading echoes on the horizon. The men themselves couldn't speak of what they had done, their mouths tightly sealed. They could only exchange scornful glances, their brows furrowed in disdain.

     Cal took a deep breath, releasing it in a loud sigh. He allowed his gaze to rest momentarily before returning to the sight of the lifeless bodies strewn before the porch. A sense of triumph surged through his veins, coursing like electric currents through his hands.

"Must make sure they're all dead," Cal growled with a deep, shuddering voice.

     Cal immediately steps forward, approaching the entrance across the spacious verdant expanse. As he marches slowly, he reloads his pistol, dropping the magazine from the gun's grip. He retrieves another magazine from his coat pocket, inserts it, and firmly grasps his firearm, the sound of it clicking like a snapping stick.

     Blood pours from the deep wounds of lifeless bodies, dripping onto the porch as the scent of rusted iron fills the air. The corpses lie motionless, devoid of any remaining essence. Only flesh remains, scattered on the earthly grounds.

     With each step, the pungent smell of blood stings Cal's nostrils like a needle. Despite the black cloth covering his face, the scent permeates through. Cal's pace slows as his shoes tread upon the mansion's porch, where the lifeless bodies lie.

     Cal raises his pistol, aiming at Albert's lifeless body. Furrowing his brows, he pulls the trigger, and the gun fires with a bang. He then targets Albert's wife, Margaret, firing at her form. Wiping the sweat from his forehead, he turns his arm and fires at the bodies of the three children, William, Andrew, and Michelle.

     Unexpectedly, Cal runs out of ammunition. His pistol snaps, but no rounds eject, no matter how many times he pulls the trigger. He scoffs and lightly kicks Albert's hand, checking for signs of life. The corpse remains unresponsive, confirming Cal's answer.

"One... two... three... four... five..." Cal began counting the lifeless bodies scattered across the porch. He had five souls down. But then, something suddenly caught his attention, causing him to raise a brow and recount. "One. Two. Three. Eh! One. One. Two. Three. Four..." The sound of wood planks creaking reached Cal's ears, accompanied by a faint footstep. Cal quickly glanced over his shoulder and spotted Nelson standing behind him.

"Cal," Nelson called out.

Cal turned to face Nelson. "What, Nelson?"

"...There is an incoming bear," Nelson said.

"...Kill it," Cal ordered, his brows knitted.

"But, Cal. None of us have any bullets left," Nelson replied.

Cal glanced at his pistol, then removed the magazine from the gun's grip. Swiftly, he checked inside, only to find an empty chamber. "...Damn it," he muttered.

"What're you even doing?" Nelson asked, curious.

"I swear... the Podeshire family had six members—the father, mother, and their four children. But there are only five corpses here," Cal explained.

"We need to leave," Nelson suggested.

"But one of them is still out there!" Cal exclaimed, his anger rising.

"We don't have time! A bear is heading our way. And we have nothing to defend ourselves with. If it finds us here, we're done for," Nelson reasoned urgently.

"We can't leave just yet. If that one Podeshire family member survives, they'll seek revenge. Trust me, they're lethal with their elemental powers," Cal insisted.

Suddenly, a loud growl echoed, interrupting their conversation.

"It's close. Too close! We have to go!" Nelson pleaded, his voice filled with nervousness.

     Cal and Nelson swiftly leapt off the porch, their shoes meeting the crunch of the grass beneath. They hurriedly joined the seven other men on the lawn, forming a united front. Once assembled, they ventured forward, pushing through the dense, sharp grass.

     As Cal walked alongside the other men, he removed the cloth covering his face, revealing a sinister frown. His eyebrows knitted together, displaying his contempt as his glare darted to the ground. With every step, his mind raced, consumed by overthinking and vividly imagining various scenarios.

     Fifteen years later, in 1819, Cal maintained his sinister frown, his once dark hair now mostly turned ash-grey, lightening with time. After years of restless anticipation, his nerve-racking thoughts were finally becoming a reality. His gaze locked on the ground, and as he glanced up, he saw two guards gripping his arms tightly on either side. Laughter filled the air, reaching Cal's ears. He turned his gaze to the left, and his eyes settled on someone who stirred his anger, igniting his blood like molten magma.

     There stood 19-year-old Oliver, the youngest son of Albert Podeshire, the sole survivor of Cal's attack, now known as the Remaining Podeshire. Oliver stood alongside a blonde woman and a black-haired man, their joyful expressions and animated conversation evident, although their voices did not carry far enough for Cal to hear. But it was not their words that bothered Cal but the sight of Oliver's happiness, causing a sense of defeat to well up within him. Cal wanted that young man dead.

     Cal growled in annoyance, his frustration mounting. He attempted to move his hands, craving the sensation of a blade to satisfy his desire to stab someone. However, the cold metal of a handcuff restrained him, preventing him from using his palms. Enraged, Cal turned around and unleashed a yell of frustration.

"This is not the end, Podeshire! I will break out one day! I will find you! And I will finish what I've begun!"

     Oliver has now grown into a young, handsome man. His eyes glow like a cave full of gold, and his hair forms a gradient of silver fading into dark chocolate roots, perfectly complementing his self-made uniform that mimics the attire of the city guards. As Oliver looks at Cal, his feet instinctively take a few steps back, and his jaw quivers.

     Seeing a fierce, furious man shouting in the distance causes Oliver's hair to stand on end. Concern for his future safety gnaws at him, causing his heart to pump blood at the speed of a falcon. However, whenever he catches a glimpse of his friends' smiles, security envelops him. Ignoring the negativity, Oliver grins back at his companions, focusing solely on the positivity surrounding them.

     Cal clenches his teeth, and his pupils contract with anger. He senses a spark in his palms and the seething fury within his heart. Despite shouting louder, his voice gradually fades away as the guards seize him, leading him to a place where freedom will remain elusive, at least for now.

"Podeshire! I will get you! I swear!"