POV: ARMIES MARCHING
The sun beat down relentlessly on both armies as they marched through the wasteland, each unaware of how close their fates would soon intertwine. Nadir’s forces, a monstrous horde of 400 men and women, plowed through the desert like an whirling sandstorm, their banners of the Faith fluttering in the wind. Dust clouds billowed around them, and the heavy footfalls of their soldiers mixed with the rhythmic thumping of drums. The second-class citizens, now fully integrated into the army, marched at the front, trying to prove themselves worthy. They wanted their new status of first class citizens. And they were slowly converting to the Faith, even those who had been reluctant at first.
Nadir, lounging atop his palanquin, watched as they marched with grim determination. He knew the Belief Settlement was close—just one more day’s journey. His fingers drummed on the side of his seat as he stared out into the horizon. In his mind, the Prophet’s teachings echoed: ‘The Faith will spread, and you will be its sword.‘
‘‘‘
Meanwhile, coming from another direction, Atlas led the Portal Crushers in their own march. Their spirits were high, boosted by the raw camaraderie and strength they shared. Crushir and Portilla flanked Atlas, the teenage trolls walking with a cheerful energy, oblivious to the weight of the upcoming battle.
Atlas wiped the sweat from his brow and glanced over at his team. His second-in-command, John, walked beside him, keeping a steady pace. Hank and Alexander were cracking jokes near the rear, with Alexander making some sports reference about the heat.
“Feels like we’re in overtime, and the sun’s playing defense,” Alexander said with a grin. “We’re definitely sweating out a win here.”
Hank chuckled. "God damn! Ain’t no sun gonna stop us, right, Atlas?"
Atlas grinned. “Not as long as we’ve got good people with us.” He glanced over at Isabella, who was keeping a watchful eye on the terrain ahead. "Anything on the horizon?"
Isabella shook her head. "Not yet. But if what John says is true, the Faith army should be arriving soon. We can’t afford to fall too far behind."
Atlas nodded, his gaze turning serious. “We’ll catch up. We always do.”
The Portal Crushers continued their march, the warriors in training keeping up despite the long days and the relentless sun. Morale was boosted with Earth’s Children's familiar songs, their voices filling the silence of the wasteland as they sang the "Hi Ho" march song.
“Hi ho, hi ho, it’s off to fight we go!”
Titus, never far from the center of attention, shouted ahead, "Mama said the sun is just testing us! Ain’t no skeletons hiding out in this heat."
Stu, swinging his mace lazily as they walked, muttered, “Can’t wait for a fucking fight. All this marching is making my legs stiff.”
Stu's words proved prophetic as the sound of fighting erupted ahead. The group of scouts had clashed with yet another group of ghouls, the eerie growls mingling with the sharp sounds of steel meeting flesh.
Atlas's heart raced as he signaled for the army to advance. He could see the scouts engaged in combat, their movements fluid and practiced. The fight didn’t last long; the ghouls, grotesque and disorganized, were no match for the well-prepared scouts. With precision strikes and coordinated maneuvers, the scouts dispatched their foes, the ghouls falling in quick succession.
“Move up!” Atlas commanded, urging his warriors to action. He wanted to ensure they weren’t ambushed while supporting their scouts. Portilla and Crushir stayed close, their eyes scanning for any remaining threats.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
As the last ghoul was taken down, the scouts regrouped, breathing heavily but triumphant. “All clear!” one of them shouted, wiping sweat from his brow. “Just a couple of them. We handled it.”
“Well done,” Atlas replied, relief flooding through him. “Let’s keep moving. We don’t want to linger.”
The army resumed its march, the tension still as thick as the blood on the ground, but eased by the scouts’ quick victory. The sound of their boots echoed against the silent wasteland, each step bringing them closer to the battle that awaited.
‘‘‘
The day passed in a blur of sand and sweat for both armies. Nadir’s forces kept a relentless pace, driven by the promise of glory and the rewards the Faith had promised them. The second-class citizens—newly promoted to temporary first class and eager to prove themselves—pushed hard, knowing that the chance to become permanent first-class citizens awaited them at the end of this campaign.
By evening, Nadir’s army camped just beyond the sight of the Belief Settlement. Nadir stood, surveying the distant walls of the settlement, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword. "Tomorrow," he muttered, “we will take them by surprise. The Prophet’s will shall be done."
His soldiers, exhausted but focused, set up camp with a sense of eager anticipation. The glow of fires dotted the camp as they prepared for the final leg of their journey.
‘‘‘
Meanwhile, Atlas and the Portal Crushers camped further back, still a day’s march away from the settlement. The team sat around the campfire, discussing their strategy for when they arrived.
John looked over the map and traced the route with his finger. “If we push hard tomorrow, we’ll be at the Belief Settlement by evening.”
Barbara, ever meticulous, was already tending to supplies. “We’ll need to make sure everyone’s rested tonight. The last thing we need is fatigue slowing us down during the final push.”
Atlas leaned back, eyes closed for a moment as he spoke. “We’re walking into something big. The Faith settlement’s army is probably massive, but we’ve got experience, skill, and heart. That’s what’ll give us the edge.”
Crushir, sitting nearby, piped up, “Crushir smash them!”
Portilla, nodding with a smug look, added, “Portilla faster. We win!”
Atlas chuckled. “Exactly. Tomorrow’s going to be tough, but we’ll be ready.”
“Atlas, the camp is all set and we’ve got the demon dog wards all linked up,” John said.
As the night settled over both camps, two armies moved closer to an inevitable clash, knowing how the next day would seal the fate of the Belief Settlement. Nadir’s army would arrive first, poised for a brutal assault, while Atlas and his Portal Crushers followed, determined to face whatever awaited them.
‘‘‘
POV: BELIEF SETTLEMENT
As the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows over the barren wasteland, Oliver stood on the outer wall of the Belief Settlement, scanning the vast emptiness. The day had been uneventful, the kind of slow, dragging day that made even the smallest movement on the horizon feel significant. His eyes narrowed as he spotted a dust cloud in the distance, far off but unmistakably moving toward them.
Stevens, his military leader, was nearby, peering through a pair of binoculars. "What do you see?" Oliver asked, leaning on his sword.
Stevens didn’t answer at first, his brows furrowed in concentration. After a few moments, he lowered the binoculars, his face pale. "It’s an army, sir. And... it’s massive."
Oliver’s gut clenched. “Portal Crushers?” He asked this question both hopefully and tinged with anxiety.
Stevens shook his head, dread creeping into his voice. "No. It's not Atlas and his people. It’s...the Faith settlement. I’d recognize those French uniforms anywhere.”
For a moment, the wind was the only sound, howling faintly across the open plains. Oliver’s pulse quickened. The enemy had arrived first. The army in the distance was much larger than he had hoped. Hundreds—no, more than that—were on the march, their banners with the symbol of the Faith cutting through the dust cloud.
“Our Lord above, preserve us,” Oliver muttered under his breath. His mind raced, trying to calculate their options. The Belief Settlement was well-fortified, but against a force this size? It would be a slaughter.
Stevens looked to Oliver, fear flickering in his eyes. "What do we do, sir? We're not ready for this."
Oliver squared his shoulders, trying to keep his voice steady. “We send messengers to Atlas immediately. We need the Portal Crushers here yesterday.”
Stevens nodded and rushed off to prepare the message. Oliver stayed on the wall, his eyes locked on the swirling dust cloud. The weight of the situation settled over him like a boulder. Nadir and his army would be here by tomorrow. There was no doubt about it.
He inhaled deeply, calming the rising panic in his chest. They had no choice now but to defend the settlement with everything they had—and hope to survive until Atlas arrived.
Oliver whispered a prayer, more to himself than anything, “Come on, Atlas. Don’t let us down.”