Rise of the Horde



It was already a bit dark when Zaraki got out of the residence of the baron. Looking up the night sky saturated with the glow of a million stars, the moon's cool light radiating over the land, a billion specs of dust dance in the sky as the banners upon the towers and walls of the castle sway to the blow of the wind.

Zaraki walked along the cobblestone streets, his thoughts whirling around like a tornado in his mind. The meeting with the baron had been a success. The task assigned to him was done but the presence of Barika spelt trouble for them. He moved with a haste and headed back towards their camp to make his report.

After two hours, Ishaq and the bulk of what remains of the army that was left to defend Ereia from all threats arrived. The army was accompanied by Ishaq's feared Sandstorm Cavalry and the Ereian Royal Cavalry.

"Commander Ishaq! Welcome," Ragab personally came out of his residence to greet Ishaq.. Even though the two had some problems with each other, basic courtesy was still a must. "How can I be of assistance?"

"Information... Information about the enemy." Ishaq uttered. He went directly to the point without even bothering with a proper greeting. "The last position of the enemy and their estimated numbers."

"Hey! Hey!" Barika menacing stepped forward. His towering figure shadowed over Ishaq under the moonlight. "I was the one who the king chose to lead this army, not you."

"We know," Menna was the one who responded. Isma and Menna flanked Ishaq on both sides. The movements of the two caused the members of the Ereian Royal Army who were with Barika to sweat bullets. They knew very well that even with their number advantage, they would be easily thrashed by the two.

Under the cover of the night's darkness, Ragab smiled. "Gentlemen, we are here to address the threat to the kingdom and not to quarrel among ourselves. Let us set aside our personal disputes for now, shall we?" He mediated after hiding his smile.

Barika clicked his tongue, then backed down. The soldiers who were with him gave out a sigh of relief. They were thankful that a brawl didn't break out between the two.

"Let's go inside... Out here is not a proper place to talk." The baron gestured for them to enter his residence.

As they entered the castle, Isma halted in his tracks, his eyebrows scrunched together, then he closed his eyes.

"What's wrong?" Menna, who was by his side, asked. He knew that Isma wouldn't stop in his footsteps without any reason at all.

"I sense someone familiar," Isma responded. His eyes still remained close, still trying to figure out the identity of that person that he was sensing. "The presence is so faint, I can't quite get a grasp on it," he shook his head.

As they followed up after the other who were already ahead of them, the presence that he was sensing became stronger. He was certain that he was picking up on someone familiar in the vicinity. His instincts were never wrong, and he knew that he needed to find that person fast.

"Come with me," Isma said to Menna, before quickly moving towards the direction where he sensed the presence of this familiar person. He made his way through the dark hallway until he came across a door on the eastern wing of the castle.

"Where did your two adjutants go?" Ragab finally noticed that the two were missing. He was so focused on sorting out what information he should reveal to Ishaq and the others.

"Probably something caught their attention," Ishaq shrugged his shoulders. He knew those two well and they wouldn't do anything stupid, even without his supervision. "There must be something that caught their attention," he thought.

As they stand in front of the door where the presence was coming from, "Be on your guard," Isma said sternly. "There is someone here, and they are not to be underestimated."

Menna nodded, his hand already on the hilt of his sword. He stood alert, ready for anything that may come their way.

Without hesitation, Isma pushed the door open and stepped inside. His eyes quickly adjusted to the dim light in the room, and when he saw who was standing there, he smirked.

"So this is where you are hiding," he said to the figure, who was completely covered from head to toe with only the eyes of the figure being shown. "Now we know who is your master."

The two who were in the room turned their heads towards the door. They didn't make any sound, nor had the expression that Isma expected.

A staring contest ensued. The moment lasted for a few breaths until the covered figure made a move. Spikes as dark as a moonless night headed for Isma and Menna.

"Watch out!" Isma warned. He rolled away out of the sudden attack. Menna too got out of the way, he jumped to one side evading the attack at the last moment.

The two quickly regained their footing, swords now drawn and ready for battle. Isma recognized the aura that radiated out of their opponent. It was the same as the one who they fought in the capital. He knew that their opponent was strong, but he was confident that they could take down this enemy.

The figure moved swiftly, its strikes precise and deadly. It was obvious that this was not an ordinary foe, but a skilled warrior. The clash of steel echoed throughout the room as the two sides fought with all their might. There was also the sound of explosions from time to time caused by the attack of the unknown person.

Isma and Menna worked together, their movements fluid and in sync. They were able to deflect most of the enemy's attacks, but the figure proved to be a formidable opponent. It was only a matter of time before someone made a mistake.

With a swift movement, the figure managed to get past Menna's defenses and landed a hit. Menna stumbled back, his sword clattering to the ground. He wasn't wounded. His hand felt numb after deflecting the strange shadow-like attack of the enemy.

Isma's eyes widened in shock as he watched Menna fall to the ground. He knew that he had to end this fight quickly before the enemy could do any more damage. He charged forward, his sword at the ready.

The figure, undeterred by Menna's fall, continued to attack Isma. Their movements were lightning-fast, and it was all Isma could do to keep up. He was starting to tire, and he knew that he needed to end this fight soon or risk losing.

With a roar, Isma launched himself at the enemy, their swords clashing once more. This time, however, Isma was ready. He saw an opening and took it, striking the enemy's sword arm with all his strength.

The figure stumbled back; the sword falling from her hand. Isma wasted no time in pressing his advantage, his sword at the ready. He was about to strike the final blow when he noticed a sharp shadow heading for his chest.

Isma was forced to abandon his attack to defend himself. The force of the enemy's attack threw Isma back a few feet.

"We won't be able to fight her with swords alone," Menna shouted. He gathered a cluster of energy in his right hand then pushed it against the ground. A shockwave ransacked the room. Everything in front of Menna in a cone shape was thrown away. The walls trembled and cracks appeared upon them.

The figure crashed against the wall, almost thrown out of the window. But before she could recover, Isma and Menna charged forward, a fierce determination in their eyes. They knew that they had to end this fight quickly before the enemy regained her footing.

Isma launched himself at the figure, his movements fluid and precise. He feinted left, then struck right, catching the enemy off-guard. His sword sliced through the air, cutting through the fabric of the enemy's cloak and revealing a slender, yet athletic figure underneath.

Menna, on the other hand, launched a series of energy blasts at the enemy, aiming for her weak spots. The figure rolled out of the way, narrowly avoiding the attacks, but it was only a matter of time before she succumbed to their combined efforts.

With a loud yell, Isma and Menna charged forward one final time, their swords and energy blasts striking the enemy simultaneously. The force of their attacks sent the figure flying across the room, crashing into the wall and leaving a deep indent.

The battle was over, or so they thought. The floor under them became black, as if the shadows in all the corners gathered together.

"What the?" Isma uttered. He was puzzled by what the enemy was trying to do. "This isn't good... Run!"

"You don't have to tell me twice," Menna replied, and he was the first one to run out of the room. He felt threatened by the amount of power that was concentrated in the room. Without breaking the seal, he knew that even if he survives the blast, he would surely be heavily wounded.

Isma followed close behind, sprinting as fast as he could. He could feel the danger creeping up behind him, threatening to swallow him whole.

As they ran through the hallway, they could hear the sound of the explosion from behind. The force of the blast sent them stumbling, but they quickly regained their footing.

Menna turned to look at Isma. "Are you alright?" he asked, concern etched on his face.

Isma nodded, trying to catch his breath. "I'm fine," he said, though his voice was shaky.