The army reached the outskirts of the main base. It was not merely a camp like the one they had destroyed earlier, but an impregnable fortress, its soaring walls built of solid rock. Behind those walls, the growls of beasts rose, and the smell of sulfur filled the air—the scent of Hell trying to occupy the Earth.
The army paused for a moment, like a roaring wave waiting for the permission to uproot evil.
Supreme Commander "Salam" advanced with steady steps, alone, until he stood close to the giant wall. His silence was heavier than the noise of battle, the silence of a servant connecting with his Lord.
He gripped the handle of his massive sword with both hands, raising it horizontally level with his right shoulder. He closed his eyes for a moment, summoning the greatness of "God" in his heart, disavowing his own might and power for the might and power of God.
"O Helper of the weak... O Conqueror of demons."
He whispered it in his secret heart, and pulled his arm back very slowly, as if drawing the string of an invisible bow. From his body, a dense aura exploded—not bright like gold nor red like blood, but dark yellow leaning towards brown... the color of the earth God created, and the color of the mountains He anchored. The aura condensed around his sword blade until the sword seemed to swell, becoming the size of a massive stone pillar of blessed energy.
In a fleeting moment, the slowness vanished.
With a single exhale, his hand thrust forward in a straight stab.
The sword did not touch the stone directly; the massive air pressure preceded it. When the tip of the blade met the wall, there was no sound of metallic impact, but a deep "grinding" sound, as if the layers of the earth were moving by the command of their Lord.
BOOOOM!
The sword embedded itself in the wall, and glowing yellow cracks spread with lightning speed along the length and breadth of the wall, tracing a web of destruction. For a single second, the wall held, then... it crumbled. The rocks exploded and disintegrated like brittle biscuits, creating a giant gap from which thick dust billowed.
"Asad" did not wait for the dust to settle.
"Attack! Cleanse the earth from the filth of demons!"
Asad screamed with his booming voice, and launched himself like a red arrow, his crimson hair leaving a trail behind him. Behind him rushed the torrent of believing soldiers, crossing the gap while shouting thunderous war cries, determined to reclaim their land from the defilement of Iblis and his followers.
Commander Salam remained at the gap. He did not advance. He pulled his sword from the rubble and began dealing devastating horizontal strikes to the sides of the gap, widening the breach meter by meter, crushing their defenses to allow the largest number of soldiers to pour through, and to ensure a path for retreat if things went wrong. He was like a human drilling machine.
Inside, Hell had opened its gates.
Mutants... hundreds of them. Swine with deformed human faces, apes with long limbs and sharpened knives, and shadow demons moving between the ranks—all loyal followers of pure evil.
"Hilal" stood in the midst of the battle. He should have been in the rear for support, but the scene before him stirred something ancient and dark in his chest. He saw those ugly faces, the same species that tore his wife apart, the same creatures that serve the Devil and seek to extinguish the light of God.
"You..."
Hilal whispered, his voice coming out hoarse from extreme pressure.
The air around him rarefied. The suppressed anger, which he had tried to bridle.
Strands of his hair, which had grown long since that ominous night, began to move. There was no wind, but his hair floated upwards, rippling like angry black snakes dancing around his head. His eyes turned red like embers, and his transparent, reddish-tinted aura began to expand, pushing the air away from him.
He raised his empty left hand and clenched the void towards a group of attacking apes.
"Crush."
The moment he clenched his fingers, the air clamped down on them. The sound of their bones breaking collectively was heard before they fell as lifeless lumps of meat. Then he drew his sword, and he was not like a dignified teacher, but fought like a tornado of vengeance, tearing through the ranks of the Devil's followers without mercy.
Far from the noisy center of battle, and away from the bright lights of Asad's aura and Salam's destructive power... there was a shadow moving with a different smoothness.
"Zilal".
He moved with perfect agility, his dagger glinting in the dark for a moment before burying itself in the neck of a passing mutant. He did not fight with enthusiasm, nor with anger. His movements were calculated, economical, and cold.
He killed a mutant that tried to intercept his path, then leaped lightly over a wrecked cart, moving into the dense shadow area next to the inner barracks buildings.
He looked behind him for a moment. He saw the army of believers engaging fiercely, saw the soldiers fighting savagely, Hilal grinding bones with his rage, and Salam pounding the walls.
Zilal smiled a faint, mocking smile.
"Poor souls... thinking their faith will save them from certain killing."
He wiped the black blood from his dagger, and instead of heading to the depth of the battle to support his comrades, he veered off his path. He melted into the shadow, using his ability to hide, moving away from the army, penetrating deep into the base where the dark main building lay... there where the appointment was made for him with his true masters, and where Iblis's irresistible promises awaited him.
At the Walls
"Boom…"
A heavy impact resounded, shaking the ground. Commander Salam quickly turned toward the source, only to see a massive boulder hurled from atop the wall onto the rear of the army. Before he could fully process what he was seeing, a second rock came crashing down, crushing a group of soldiers and tearing their bodies into pieces, their blood splattering over their comrades.
The flow of troops through the breach came to a halt. Panic spread through their hearts as they staggered backward, eyes fixed on the sky in terror. A third boulder fell, nearly claiming more lives, had a massive shadow not intercepted its path.
Before it could reach the ground by several meters, Commander Salam appeared.
He stood tall and raised his broad sword to receive the rock, which was several times larger than himself. His feet dragged through the dirt under the tremendous weight until the boulder stopped just half a meter above the heads of the terrified soldiers.
With a powerful exhale, Salam hurled the rock aside, and it crashed to the ground with a thunderous roar. He bent slightly and coughed blood from his mouth—the internal pressure had been immense. He lifted his gaze toward the top of the wall, and there, amid the darkness, stood a fat giant. His features were indistinct, yet his presence was overwhelming.
Several more rocks rained down, but Salam did not retreat. He swung his sword, and blades of yellow energy shot forth, slicing the boulders midair and reducing them to harmless gravel.
Then, the monster stopped throwing.
It leapt from the top of the towering wall.
The moment it touched the ground, it triggered a localized quake, knocking many soldiers to the ground, unable to keep their balance. With its massive bulk, it blocked the passage, cutting off the army's advance into the monsters' camp.
Under the scattered torchlight, the creature's features became clear. It was a hideous humanoid boar, grotesquely ugly, its body piled with fat and muscle. A wicked grin stretched across its face, revealing yellowed tusks.
It wasted no time.
The boar kicked off the ground and charged forward at a speed utterly disproportionate to its size, hurling its enormous fist toward Salam.
With a surprisingly light motion for such a heavy weapon, Salam used his sword as a shield, deflecting the punch off course. He avoided the blow, but realized too late that a kick was coming straight at him, leaving no room to evade.
He raised his left arm swiftly to block it. The force of the strike sent him flying back a full meter, his feet carving grooves into the earth as he lost his balance for a moment.
No sooner had he regained his footing than the boar leapt into the air, clasping its fists together and bringing them down from above like a colossal hammer aimed at crushing Salam's skull.
Salam lifted his sword horizontally over his head.
Craaaack!
His body absorbed the tremendous impact, and the ground beneath them trembled. Blood began to trickle from Salam's nose under the pressure, while the boar's fists continued to press downward like an immovable mountain.
Salam's teeth ground together as a dark yellow aura erupted around him like a raging volcano. Blood splattered onto the ground from sheer exertion. Slowly, his arms began to move, pushing the boar's fists upward, centimeter by centimeter.
Then, in a sudden surge of energy, Salam unleashed all his strength, sending the boar's fists flying up and breaking the hold.
Like lightning, Salam swung his sword in a sweeping horizontal slash, nearly severing the monster's head. The boar retreated backward with astonishing speed, but the strike left behind an unnoticed "air blade" that struck it squarely in the chest.
Yet its armor-like hide did not split—only a shallow wound was left behind.
The boar wiped at the wound, its malicious grin widening as it opened its mouth in a hoarse voice:
"It seems you have some skill… Let's see how long you can last."
Deep in the Battle
Amidst the clamor of swords and the screeching of mutants, "Asad" and "Hilal" were carving their path like a dual tornado. Asad's red sword claimed souls with a speed the eye could not follow, while Hilal's powers crushed the bones of those who approached him before they could even touch him.
But, little by little, Asad felt a cold shiver run down his spine. The soldiers around them... their numbers were decreasing at a suspicious rate, as if the earth were swallowing them whole.
Asad turned back to check the left flank, and suddenly...
WHIZZZZZ!
The sound of air splitting sharply.
There was no time to think. With warrior instincts honed by years of combat, Asad raised his sword with lightning speed to protect his neck.
CLAAANG!
Sparks flew into the air. A thin metallic blade collided with Asad's sword with unnatural force—a force that made Asad's arm tremble for a moment.
At the exact same moment, on the other side...
"Watch ou—!"
Hilal tried to shout a warning, but a giant shadow had already blocked the light from him.
FWOOOO...
The sound of compressed air generated by the movement of an arm as massive as a tree trunk.
Hilal couldn't use his crushing ability from a distance; the opponent was too fast and too close. He raised his right arm in a desperate attempt to block.
CRAAAACK!
The ugly sound of shattering bone drowned out the noise of the battle.
"Arghhhh!"
Hilal let out a muffled scream as he flew through the air for several meters, crashing into the ground with force, his right arm dangling. The fractures in the bone had paralyzed his hand.
The dust stopped swirling, and the truth was revealed.
Standing before Hilal was a nightmare beast: a giant Chimpanzee, its muscles rippling like rocks, exhaling hot steam from its nostrils, its eyes gleaming with savage stupidity and destructive power. It stood like an insulating wall, blocking the vision and the path between Hilal and Asad.
As for Asad, another ape had landed with suspicious grace in front of him, but this one was human-sized. In its hand was a long, curved sword. Its stance was not that of a beast, but that of a professional duelist. The ape smiled a grin full of fangs, its eyes shining with malicious intelligence.
Asad took a step back, his eyes darting between his opponent and Hilal, who lay on the ground clutching his broken arm.
"Damn it..."
Asad whispered, realizing the catastrophe.
They had been separated, and not by random chance.
He looked at the giant Chimpanzee approaching Hilal, then at the dueling ape waving its sword before him with mockery.
"They studied us..."
Asad gritted his teeth in rage. If he were the one facing that giant, his speed and sword would have been enough to slice it into ribbons before it could blink—large size meant an easy target for his swift blade.
And if Hilal were facing this dueling ape, he could have crushed it with "air pressure" from a distance without needing to clash swords, for Hilal's power excelled against small, fast bodies.
But the enemy had flipped the script.
Hilal, with his mental and spiritual abilities, now stood physically helpless before a muscle mass that was unaffected by simple air pressure and required massive destructive force to repel. And Asad, the skilled swordsman, found himself facing a peer who matched him in speed and evasion, which would stall him for a long time.
Asad gripped his sword until his knuckles turned white, his red aura flaring like fire.
"Hold on, Hilal..." Asad muttered as he saw the dueling ape preparing to attack. "It seems we have to break the rules of the game."
Back at the Walls
Salam planted his sword into the ground and closed his eyes. His aura began to rise like the steam of the hot earth, and the blade of his sword vibrated violently in response to his latent energy. Suddenly, his eyes snapped open; he gripped the hilt with power and dashed toward the Boar.
Just as he closed the distance and began to swing his sword, he vanished from sight, only to reappear in the blink of an eye behind the Boar, his sword descending mid-strike.
It was a blindingly fast flank, barely visible.
But the Boar spun around with amazing speed, kicking the side of the sword with its foot to neutralize the attack. The shockwave reverberated through Salam's body, causing fresh internal tears.
The Commander did not stop. The blows followed like a sweeping torrent, relentless successive attacks. The Boar dodged some and received others with an open chest, revealing skin as hard as steel. With every impact or parry, the recoil tore at Salam's muscles from the inside; dark blue patches of trapped blood began to appear beneath his skin, and his fighting power gradually dwindled.
THWACK!
The Boar delivered a sweeping backhand slap that swatted Salam away as if he were a fly.
The Commander's body flew through the air, rolling across the ground several times, blood bursting from his open wounds, until he crashed hard into the rocky wall. Blood continued to pour from all his injuries, forming a crimson pool around him.
His fingers trembled as they sought the hilt of his sword once more amidst the dirt and blood.
He moved slowly, weighed down by exhaustion and pain, fighting gravity until he stood upright. He lifted his gaze toward his enemy, his eyes overflowing with a refusal to surrender, while a single phrase that withstood all this pain echoed in his mind:
"Either Victory... or Martyrdom."
On the distant horizon, amidst the darkness, there was a mare with a lantern hanging from it, ridden by a girl whose features appeared stern and anxious, trying to hasten as much as she could...
In the Medic Tent - Far from the Frontlines
"Zahra" gasped sharply, as if her soul had been suddenly pulled from the darkness of the void to return to her body all at once.
She opened her eyes; the canvas ceiling of the tent was the first thing to greet her blurred vision. She tried to move, but her body felt heavy, as if lead had been poured into it. Memories flooded her mind in quick, painful flashes.
She tried to sit up, but the faint sound of a metal bowl hitting the ground made her turn slowly.
A young nurse stood at the entrance, the bowl having slipped from her hand in astonishment.
"Miss Zahra! You... You have awakened!"
The nurse rushed toward her, quickly checking her pulse and temperature, then gently supported her to sit on the edge of the bed.
"How do you feel?" the nurse asked, handing her a cup of water.
"Heavy..." Zahra whispered in a hoarse voice. "How long have I been here? And why is it so quiet? Where is everyone?"
The nurse handed Zahra some warm soup and began to recount what had happened: her coma that had lasted for several nights, the army's movement, and the massive assault launched by the Commanders at sunset today on the Demon Fortress.
The soup stopped in Zahra's throat. "The attack... has started?"
The image of "Hilal" leaped to her mind immediately. An instinctive feeling, a mysterious spiritual connection, told her he was in danger.
She set the bowl aside firmly, her eyes shining with sudden determination.
"Prepare a horse and a saddle for me. Now."
The nurse's eyes widened in horror. "Impossible! Your body hasn't recovered yet; you can barely stand! You need rest for several more days until your life cycle regains its balance."
"There is no time for rest."
Zahra forced herself to stand. She swayed slightly but refused the helping hand. She began to walk around the tent, step by step, forcing her dormant muscles to respond, and pushing her own healing energy to circulate forcibly through her veins.
She ate the rest of the food quickly to gather energy and performed some simple exercises to get her blood flowing. The pain was there, but the anxiety for her comrades was stronger.
After an hour of desperate attempts, she wore her combat robe.
She stepped out of the tent, where the night wrapped around the place, and the stars were hidden behind distant clouds of smoke coming from the battlefield. Reluctantly, the nurse had prepared the mare and hung a glowing lantern on its saddle.
Zahra mounted the steed. Her facial features, which had been gentle and peaceful, now transformed into those of a resolved warrior.
She looked toward the distant horizon, anxiety filling her eyes.
"Hold on..." she whispered to the wind, and kicked the mare's sides.
The mare galloped into the darkness, its lantern swaying like a solitary flame of hope, racing to catch up with death before it could snatch her loved ones.