The afternoon sun had begun to sink, its light turning deep orange as if the sky itself were burning. We were no longer in the crowded markets of Maltoon, nor within its busy streets. Elhaan had led us outside the city, though not far only to a quieter area where the air was fresher, the land greener.
Tall trees rose above us, their branches heavy with leaves, and among them stood houses. Some were built between the trunks, others beneath their shade. It looked like something from an old story , the kind where a wise master of martial arts lived in seclusion.
Elhaan walked with a purpose. "He lives somewhere here," he said calmly.
I grew more curious with every step. Who exactly were we about to meet?
After a while, Elhaan stopped at one of the wooden doors. He knocked firmly. No answer came. Silence pressed in around us. Then I saw his hand move subtly, his lips forming words I didn't understand. I would only realize later that he had used some kind of power, some strange magic.
"The house is empty," he said at last. "The one we seek is not here."
But before I could ask more, the ground shuddered. A deafening explosion rolled across the air from the direction of Maltoon.
Smoke. Distant screams. The city was under attack.
Elhaan's eyes hardened. He turned to the two children with us. "Inside. Now."
The children hurried into the empty house. Elhaan stretched out his hand and a faint glow shimmered over the doorway, a barrier sealing them safely inside. Then he looked at me.
"Come. With me."
And we ran, back toward Maltoon.
Note:(now third person narration it not Mikael anymore . Some people find it hard that who is telling story ).
Maltoon.
The city was chaos. Warriors in black cloaks swept through the streets, working with precision, checking every house, cutting down those who resisted. Their movements were not wild raids , they were organized, almost militarily disciplined.
The Deens fought back with everything they had. They were outnumbered, but their swords did not rest. They fought not for land or glory, but for the people running through the alleys, for every child or mother who could still escape.
It was a losing battle, yet they refused to surrender.
Among them, one Deen commander stood out. His armor was battered, his cheek streaked with blood, but his eyes burned with will. He clashed directly with the leader of the black warriors, their blades striking so fiercely the sound echoed like thunder.
Nearby, Irees , another Deen, young but fierce, with long dark hair tied into a ponytail , pulled his sword free from a fallen enemy. His face was sharp, his clothes torn and bloodied, but his spirit unbroken.
"Commander, be careful!" he shouted.
The Deen commander pressed harder, overpowering his opponent. For a moment, hope flickered. Strike after strike pushed the black commander back, until a crushing punch from Irees himself sent the enemy flying into the remains of a broken wall.
The black-cloaked leader staggered. His body was drenched in blood. He was losing.
But then, with desperate hands, he unclipped a small case from his belt. Inside swirled a strange, liquid smoke — alive, writhing. Without hesitation, he swallowed it.
The change was horrifying.
Blackness spread across half his body like tar, his skin twisting as veins turned dark. His right arm dissolved into a shifting, liquid shadow that formed itself into a long, jagged sword. The other half of him , human still ... was drenched in blood, but no longer weak. His strength had multiplied. His speed doubled.
The monster roared and charged.
His smoke-forged blade cut through the air in a blur, too fast, too merciless.
He did not miss.
The strike tore clean through the Deen commander's chest. For a heartbeat the man stood still, his eyes wide with disbelief. Then they rolled back, and his body fell slack.
Blood spilled down his armor as the black warrior's blade ripped free. The proud commander , Irees' senior, his brother-in-arms , collapsed lifeless onto the broken stones.
Irees' breath caught in his throat. He watched, helpless, as the man who had led them, who had stood unyielding for their people, was cast aside like a doll.
"NoOOO…!" The cry ripped from his throat, but it was drowned in the chaos.
The monster grinned, its half-human face twisted with blood, its smoke-wreathed half twisting and writhing like a storm. With no care, it hurled the dead commander's body aside, letting it crash against the ruins.
Then its burning eyes turned to Irees.
"You're next."
Irees gripped his sword with shaking hands. His arms were heavy, his chest seared with pain, but fury boiled in his heart. His commander was dead, their people were still running, and now the monster bore down on him with unstoppable force.
The battle was no longer about victory. It was survival, resistance , one last stand against the darkness swallowing Maltoon.
The black smoke spread across the warrior's body like living fire, twisting his flesh into something no longer human. His eyes gleamed red, his breath came in ragged growls, and in his hand the smoke hardened into a jagged black blade that pulsed with a life of its own.
He charged.
Irees raised his sword just in time, the clash shaking his arms to the bone. The impact forced him back, his boots scraping across the bloodied stone. Before he could steady himself, another strike came, faster, heavier. Sparks flew as steel met darkness, the sound ringing in his ears.
The monster pressed on with merciless fury. Each blow crashed like a hammer, and Irees could feel his strength draining with every block. His arms trembled, his shoulders burned.
He's too fast… too strong.
The monster's blade slashed across his chest, tearing through armor and skin. Hot blood spread down his side. Pain stabbed through him, but Irees gritted his teeth and lunged, forcing his own sword across the monster's face. The black figure recoiled, smoke hissing where the blade cut deep.
For a moment, Irees thought he could win. He forced himself forward, screaming with effort, raining down desperate strikes. His sword blurred, sparks and shadows colliding as the two clashed in the ruins of Maltoon.
But the monster laughed , a guttural, broken laugh. His smoke-forged blade swept wide, catching Irees in the ribs and sending him sprawling across shattered stone. The air left his lungs. His sword slipped from his grasp.
He coughed blood, his vision blurring. His long hair, once neat in a ponytail, now clung to his bloody face. Still, he staggered to his feet, forcing his broken body to move.
The monster advanced slowly, savoring the sight of his prey. His voice, distorted, hissed like steam.
"You can't win, little Deen. You bleed, you break, and still you crawl."
Irees raised his sword again, though his arms shook so badly he could barely lift it. Every breath was agony, but behind him families still fled through the ruins. If he fell here, that boy clutching his mother's hand would never make it.
"I won't… let you…" His voice was hoarse, but unshaken.
With a roar, he hurled himself forward. His sword met the monster's once more, and for an instant he matched him strike for strike. The clash tore open his wounds further, every movement sending fire through his body. But he did not stop.
The monster's strength, though, was overwhelming. His blows grew heavier, and soon Irees' defense began to falter. The black blade grazed his arm, then his shoulder, then slashed across his cheek. His handsome features were now smeared with blood, his body carved with wounds.
Still, he fought. Every strike from him was not for victory, but for the next heartbeat, the next chance for another civilian to escape.
At last, the monster struck his sword aside and drove a fist into Irees' chest. The impact lifted him from his feet, throwing him into the remains of a wall. He crumpled to the ground, gasping, his body broken.
Blood poured from his lips. His hands would no longer grip his sword. His legs would no longer hold him.
He looked up at the burning sky, despair closing in.
Is this it? Is this all I was good for?
In the ruins of Maltoon, a proud warrior lay beaten, praying for a miracle.
Irees lay broken among the rubble, blood soaking the ground beneath him. His fingers twitched for his sword, but it was just out of reach, glinting faintly in the dust. His body would not move. His lungs burned, each breath a jagged knife.
The monster loomed over him, half-man, half-shadow. One hand still flesh, torn and bloody, the other a mass of writhing smoke that pulsed into the shape of a jagged blade. His red eyes gleamed with cruel delight.
"You fought well," the creature hissed, voice like cracking stone. "But in the end, you are nothing."
He seized Irees by his long ponytail, dragging him upright like a broken doll. Irees gritted his teeth but could not resist. The black blade pressed against his chest, right over his heart.
In that instant, he felt his strength leave him. His thoughts blurred. So this is it… I am too weak. Too small to protect anyone.
Then
A sharp crack split the air. A stone struck the monster's face.
The creature snarled and turned, his burning eyes locking on the source. A boy stood in the ruins, no older than ten, his body shaking but his chin held high. Dust smeared his face, and his small hand clutched another stone, ready to throw.
Irees' heart clenched. Terror stabbed deeper than any wound.
No… no, not him. Not the child. I can't… I can't save him.
Shame crushed him. He cursed himself, cursed his weakness. All he could do was watch.
The monster hurled Irees aside like broken wood. He crashed into the ground, his vision swimming, unable to rise.
The black blade lifted, aimed now at the boy. The monster's shadow fell over him, death moments away.
The boy's eyes widened, but he did not run. He stood frozen, stone still in his hand.
Then , a voice tore through the smoke and fire.
"The heavens have arrived… to punish you, monster!"
It was sharp, shrill, and mocking. The monster froze, his blade hovering mid-strike. He glanced around, eyes blazing, but saw no one.
"Who dares ?!" his voice roared.
Another voice answered, smaller, yet filled with boldness.
"Here, pig!"
From the broken debris of a collapsed house, something stirred. Dust shifted, wood cracked, and then a small spider walked into view. Its eight legs glistened in the light, and its many eyes burned with defiance.
It stood before the monster, no bigger than a man's hand, yet its voice rang with challenge.
"Fight me."
The spider didn't look frightening. If anything, he carried himself like a well-groomed pet dressed for an occasion. A tilted mafia-style hat, complete with a feather, rested upon his small head, casting a shadow over the crimson muffler wrapped around his neck. The cloth covered his mouth, leaving only two glinting eyes to peer out from beneath the brim. He was no larger than a man's palm, yet he carried an air of authority that made him seem much larger.
At his side hung a pouch no bigger than a pen cap, the kind one might overlook if not for its deadly contents , needle-like darts spun from his own web, each tipped with venom. He moved upright on two legs like a man, while the rest of his limbs shifted with uncanny precision, serving as hands.
He ignored the black warrior commander now a monster ...standing before him and instead strode past with quiet dignity, approaching the fallen figure of young Deen, lying unconscious on the ground. Lowering his hat in respect, the spider's voice came soft but steady.
"You have done well holding him off, hero. Rest now. Your burden will be mine. I'll handle it from here."
As he spoke, silken threads streamed from his limbs, weaving a protective web over Deen's battered body.
From behind, the enemy's voice rang out, sharp and mocking.
"Hey, pint-sized! Are you done playing nurse?"
The spider didn't turn. His eyes glowed beneath the brim of his hat as he answered, calm yet cutting.
"Not yet. But soon. And when I am… it will all end with you."
The air between them thickened with tension. The commander drew his weapon. The spider adjusted his hat, his muffler shifting slightly as he rose to full height. Both stood ready, and the fight was about to begin.
Author here
let's called the black warrior commander . Viper