Cain was a watchman for the army of the free nations of the south. Normally, his job, however uneventful it might be, left him tense with fear of every shadow or noise in the night valley.
However, the calmness of this night was a clear sign that something was wrong. And it was when an arrow pierced the veil of darkness in front of him, hitting his left shoulder squarely, that the certainty that this night would not be like the others became evident.
Torches lit up the valley, war cries, pleas for mercy, arrows and blood suddenly painted the night with horror.
A horn sounded in the ranks of the allied nations, giving a late warning about the ongoing attack.
Elite squads tried, unsuccessfully, to contain the unstoppable advance of the enemy army.
Attacking soldiers descended the mountains, galloping on swift six-legged animals. The front of the army was on the verge of collapsing due to the chaos of the lightning attack.
The first rays of dawn brought light to the chaotic scenes unfolding in the valley, illuminating the generals who, from the center of the camp, watched the growing battle.
— Milords, the moment has arrived, send in the assault machines.
The outrageous order surprised everyone.
— Lord Ferron, are you serious? Sending in the assault machines now that our soldiers are lined up with the enemy is condemning a third of our army to death!
— Calm down, Lord Darren. Everything is in line with our expectations. If we suffer heavy casualties and the Master of space does not intervene, surely the other Masters will intervene.
— I understand the need for sacrifices to force the fight to the Master level and reach a resolution without further bloodshed on the part of soldiers and common people. But aren't we going too far? Being the hand of the executioner?
— It's a good thing that the decision is mine, general. I don't expect you to understand the subtleties of the plan of the House of Lords. But I expect you to obey orders.
The animosity was palpable in the air between the nobleman and the general. Born into a common family in a world where those who ruled had the power to kill dozens with a wave of their hands, Lord Darren was not one to resign himself to the status quo. Proof of this was his arrival at the highest position that a person without a noble education could reach in life.
The tension did not last long. A roar reverberated throughout the valley, when a crack hundreds of meters long appeared in the dawn sky. Everyone stopped, unable to continue the carnage in the face of such a demonstration of power.
A dark gray abyss writhed within the crack, and as the two armies watched, the uncomfortable feeling that the abyss was watching back grew with the passing seconds, which seemed like hours.
Taking one step at a time, a figure emerged from within the abyss. It grew and became clearer as it approached. When the last steps were taken, everyone could see a man, with black skin, long braids falling over his shoulders. His dark gray cloak covered light gray linen pants and shirt. His silver eyes stared at everyone on the battlefield below.
Khaled had arrived in the valley.