Chong reached the northern gate, his hope a desperate, frantic beat in his chest. He had made it, he thought, a small, foolish triumph in the midst of utter chaos. But as he crested the last rise, the sight that greeted him stole the breath from his lungs. The northern gate was not a safe haven; it had also been hit by a heavy and brutal attack. Arrows still landed on the roofs of houses, and the bodies of civilians who had been killed in the crossfire lay on the street. With a dawning horror, he realized there was no safe place left in the city. The Magoli's victory was complete, and he was trapped.
As he slowly reined in his horse, an arrow suddenly slammed into the side of the animal. The horse jolted forward in a panic of pain, and Chong was thrown from the saddle, tumbling hard onto the cobblestone street. He got up to his knees, his mind spinning, and in that moment, he saw them: a sea of houses with white cloth tied to their front doors, fluttering gently in the wind. The sight was a devastating confirmation. He now knew it didn't matter if he made it out alive; returning to reclaim the city would be an impossible task. Just then, a sharp pain that lanced from his back to his chest. He looked down and found an arrowhead, its brutal tip sticking out from his armor, having pierced his right chest.
Then the sound of horseshoes galloping down the street made him chuckle. In that moment, Chong understood with a terrible clarity that the city had fallen, and all the soldiers who had sacrificed their lives for his escape had done so in vain. With the last of his will to fight emptied from him, he closed his eyes, no longer caring about what was to come, as cold steel touched the back of his neck.
Chinua swung her spear to the side as her horse raced through the ranks of the Ginmiao soldiers. With a brutal, fluid motion, the point of her spear caught a Ginmiao soldier and lifted him clean into the air, a rag doll in her wake. She then slammed him into the side of a house, the sickening crunch of bone and wood echoing as he crumpled to the ground. Without a moment's hesitation, she swung her spear to her left hand and, with a quick, merciless slash, drove the blade into the face of another Ginmiao soldier.
Chinua's horse, a powerful engine of war, was suddenly stopped short by a Ginmiao soldier wheeling a heavy wagon directly into its path. The animal reared, startled by the unexpected obstacle, its loud neigh a jarring sound in the chaos. Chinua, with her formidable reflexes, abandoned the horse in a flash, leaping from the saddle as the animal shrieked. As she hit the ground, she spotted Nta, his face grimed with sweat and blood, his eyes locked on her. In that moment, the entire battlefield seemed to fade away, and a new, more personal battle began as Chinua raised her spear, preparing to fight the man who had dared to hold her at bay.
The duel began with a sickening clash of steel. Chinua's spear was a flash of lethal grace, her every thrust a precise, brutal promise of death. Nta met her with his sword, a blade that had tasted blood countless times, but her weapon's length and speed forced him into a desperate, defensive dance. As he parried and dodged, a handful of his soldiers, the last remaining defenders of the gate, saw their captain in a desperate fight and charged forward with a defiant roar.
Chinua did not flinch. Her eyes, cold and merciless, swept over the men now surrounding her, a grim calculation in their depth. She became a whirlwind of steel, her spear a blur of motion as she lashed out, keeping the exhausted Ginmiao soldiers at bay. She used her long reach to devastating effect, her spear not just a weapon but an impenetrable barrier. For every soldier who dared to close the distance, she drove her spear forward, its sharp point finding its mark in a throat or a heart, a testament to her ruthless, unbreakable will.
From a distance, amidst the chaos of the southern gate, Khunbish's eyes scanned the battlefield. He had just led his men through the tunnel's spike trap, and now he saw Chinua. She was a whirlwind of motion, her spear a blur of steel, but she was not alone. The last of the Ginmiao soldiers had rallied around Nta, transforming a duel into a desperate, outnumbered brawl. Without a word, Khunbish pointed, and, with a grim determination, he and his soldiers, including Zhi, quickly made their way toward the fray, a second wave of support for their general.
With Khunbish's reinforcements crashing into the fray, the Ginmiao soldiers who had fought so valiantly were quickly overwhelmed, their last stand broken. They were either killed in the ruthless, final push or captured, leaving Nta to fight Chinua alone. But even as he was left with no one to guard his back, Khunbish did not hesitate. He quickly made his way over, his sword drawn and ready, joining Chinua to fight Nta. What was once a fierce duel had become a brutal, final fight for one man against two unrelenting forces.
As Khunbish's sword flashed, slicing his body one slash after another, and Chinua's spear thrust and tore at him one stab after another, Nta did not back down. He didn't plan to win the fight; he had already made peace with the knowledge that today he would not escape death. The reason he refused to fall, the reason he held on with every ounce of his failing strength, was that every second he remained standing was a second gained to increase Chong's chance of escape. He was not fighting for victory, but for time, a final, selfless act of defiance.
With a final, desperate swing, Zhi's spear struck the back of Nta's calf. The unexpected blow drove into the muscle, and the sudden, searing pain sent Nta's legs out from under him, dropping him down onto his knees. In that instant, as he gasped in a mix of pain and defeat, Chinua was there. Her spear, which had been a whirlwind of death just moments before, was now held perfectly still, its sharp, cold point aimed directly at Nta's throat. The fight was over.
Chinua looked down at the brave Ginmiao soldier. She saw a man who had fought with every ounce of his last strength, a man who refused to surrender or back down, even as his body began to fail him. He was on his knees, supporting himself with his sword, a grim, silent defiance in his eyes. He had held them at bay for a full half-hour, a feat of impossible courage, and Chinua felt a flicker of grudging respect for the man who had sacrificed everything for his general.
"Stand down, soldier," Chinua said, her voice cold and commanding. Her words cut through the chaos of the city's fall, a clear, final order. "Neu-Li City has fallen, the battle is lost. Why are you still fighting?" She was not asking out of curiosity but out of a warrior's respect.
Nta, on his knees, used his sword as a defiant crutch, his body a map of pain. He looked up at her, his eyes still burning with an unbreakable will, a last, quiet act of loyalty to a cause that had already been lost.
"If this is Namsu Village, you have done the same," Nta said, his voice cold and filled with the weight of a final judgment. He knew he could not accept the fact of being named a prisoner of war; he would not surrender. With a last, desperate roar, he used his remaining strength to spring forward, his sword a flash of defiance aimed at Chinua's face. But as fast as he leaped, Chinua's spear was faster. With a single, fluid thrust, the steel point penetrated deep into Nta's left chest, bringing his courageous, final act to a swift and tragic end.
"Captain!" The captured Ginmiao soldiers cried out in unison, their voices a sudden, grief-stricken wail that cut through the chaos of the battle's end. Their cries were a final salute to the man who had fought for their escape until his last breath. Bound and defeated, they had just witnessed their captain's last act of defiance, and in that single, heartbroken word, they showed that even in their defeat, their loyalty to Nta remained unbreakable.
The sword in Nta's right hand slowly fell to the ground, a final, hollow clang of defeat. With a laborious effort, he slowly raised his left hand, his fingers curling around the socket of Chinua's spear. He looked up into her eyes, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth, and with a voice that gurgled with blood, he spoke his final words. "Your messenger said you fight and live with your code of ethics," he rasped, his breath becoming shallow and his vision growing pale. "Will you live up to your promise not to harm surrendered soldiers and civilians?"
Chinua looked at Nta, and with a single nod, she answered his final question. It was an act of high respect for a warrior who had refused to break, a silent promise to a man who had given his life for his people. Without saying a word, she pulled her spear backward from his chest. Nta's body, its will finally gone, fell to the ground with a soft thud, a quiet, final sound in the now-silent streets of the fallen city.