POV : WAR

Behind Nadir, the dust cloud of Atlas’s army surged forward, relentless. The Portal Crushers, still roaring with confidence, were charging full speed. Portilla and Crushir laughed as they ripped through any of Nadir’s soldiers left behind. Their mossy green skin peeked through their increasingly destroyed armour, each cut or gash healing almost instantly.

Atlas, leading from the front, urged his troops on. His twin swords gleamed in the sunlight as he slashed down one of Nadir’s stragglers without hesitation. He could sense the weakness in Nadir’s forces now. They were broken. This was the moment to finish them.

"Don’t let them escape! Keep pushing!" Atlas yelled, his voice steady but filled with urgency. The warriors behind him followed his lead, their weapons swinging as they advanced.

"YEEHAW!" Alexander shouted, taking out a retreating soldier with a single swing of his great sword. “Feels like a derby race out here!” He grinned, spitting dust out of his mouth as he ran alongside the trolls.

Stu, hot-headed as always, grunted as he slammed his mace down on another one of Nadir’s fleeing men. “Shit sippers won’t know what hit ’em!” he growled, eyes wild with adrenaline.

CRUMK

Even the mini faeries fluttered about the battlefield, chanting, "Yes! Yes! Yes!" in high-pitched voices, adding an eerie excitement to the chase. They eagerly collected more coins, while zapping stragglers.

PEW!

PEW!

PEW!

Meanwhile, Nadir ran trying to stay hidden in the chaotic battlefield, aghast at the thought of being chased like a common criminal. This was supposed to be his victory. ‘The Prophet had promised me conquest, domination, paradise. How had it gone so wrong?’

Atlas’s army closed in, the distance shrinking between them and Nadir’s remaining forces. From behind, Nadir could hear the THWIP of crossbow bolts as his rear guards fell to well-placed shots. His heart raced. He needed to regroup, needed time to form a new plan.

But Atlas wasn’t giving him that time.

As they pushed forward, Atlas locked eyes with Nadir, seeing him far in the distance trying to hide. His lip curled in a satisfied smile. "You’re not getting away," he whispered to himself, his pace quickening.

The battle had shifted. What began as Nadir’s confident attack had turned into a full-on retreat. Now, it was Atlas who held the advantage, and he intended to use it to the fullest.

As the dust cloud of Nadir’s retreating army grew more chaotic, Nadir’s mind raced. He needed to escape before Atlas's forces caught him, but the relentless pursuit was closing in fast.

"Faster! I won’t be captured by these heathens!" His voice crackled with desperation.

But it was no use. He could feel Atlas and his troops gaining ground, hear the THWIP of crossbow bolts as more of his men fell behind him. The once-united army of Faith was now in complete disarray. Nadir’s heart pounded in his chest as he glanced back and saw the trolls, their broken armor shimmering as they regenerated from every wound, cackling with glee as they tore through the stragglers.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, Nadir saw movement from another direction—Oliver’s forces. Just 38 men, but in the chaos of the retreat, they posed an even greater threat. Oliver’s troops, spotting the disorganized mass fleeing in panic, began moving toward the fray. Nadir’s heart skipped a beat. His enemies were closing in on all sides.

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“We’re boxed in…” Nadir muttered, a realization dawning on him. His eyes scanned the battlefield, searching for a way out.

Private Ryan, one of Oliver’s men, spotted Nadir on the battlefield and pointed. "That’s him! That’s their leader!" Ryan shouted, his voice full of both fear and determination.

Oliver, despite only having a small force, nodded. "We can’t let him get away. Move quickly, cut him off!"

Nadir cursed under his breath, realizing the walls were closing in. He could see Atlas's troops bearing down from one side, and now Oliver’s men were trying to flank him. With the trolls regenerating and Atlas determined to finish him off, Nadir knew that his only chance lay in disappearing into the wasteland.

"Protect me!" he commanded the men carrying him. "The Faith will reward you!”

The four security guards who had been escorting Nadir guarded him without hesitation. Nadir kept moving, his robes billowing around him as he sprinted toward the cover of a nearby ridge.

***

He ducked behind a jagged outcrop of rock, heart pounding. If he could just make it over the next rise, he could lose Atlas and regroup with whatever remained of his army. But even as he ran, he could hear the sound of footsteps growing louder.

Atlas’s forces were getting closer.

Meanwhile, Private Ryan, panting heavily, ran up to Oliver. “We’re too far to catch him! There’s no way we can reach him in time.”

Oliver gritted his teeth. “We don’t need to catch him, we just need to delay him.” He gestured to his men, moving toward Nadir’s position. “Fan out. Cut off his escape route.”

As Nadir reached the ridge, he looked back over his shoulder. Atlas’s army was dangerously close now. Portilla and Crushir were leading the charge, the trolls practically bouncing as they gleefully ran down more of Nadir’s stragglers.

Nadir’s breathing grew ragged as he scrambled up the ridge, his mind a whirlwind of desperation and fury. His Faith was supposed to guide him, but now it seemed he had been abandoned. He cursed Atlas’s name under his breath, hatred burning in his chest.

At the top of the ridge, Nadir paused for a moment, his chest heaving. He had made it this far, but how much longer could he evade them? He could hear Oliver’s men below, their voices carried on the wind. There wasn’t much time left.

Just as he was about to make a dash for the other side of the ridge, he saw a glimpse of movement—Atlas, with his swords drawn, leading his warriors directly toward him. Their eyes locked for a split second, and Nadir’s heart sank.

Atlas wasn’t going to let him escape.

With no other choice, Nadir sprinted down the opposite side of the ridge, hoping against hope that the fading light and the chaotic battlefield might still grant him the cover he needed to escape.

He spotted his chance when he saw a sharp decline coming up. Half sprinting, half falling he fled down into it.

Atlas seeing this, ground his teeth, he had been so close. He could continue chasing, but that would cost him time. And time was something he didn’t have in abundance right now.

Atlas raised his hand, his voice cutting through the air, "Halt! Stop the chase!"

His army ground to a stop, panting and weary from the relentless pursuit. The trolls, Crushir and Portilla, looked disappointed but obediently slowed their pace, grumbling among themselves about how much fun they’d been having.

"Why we stop?" Crushir asked, scratching his head with one of his huge, dirt-covered hands. His armour , smeared with patches of dirt and blood, glistened in the fading light. "Crushir want more fight. Smash more skulls!"

Atlas, feeling the weight of the day's battle, sheathed his twin swords with a sigh. "We’ve driven them far enough for now. The men are exhausted, and we need to rest. If we push any further, we risk wearing ourselves thin." His voice was firm, but there was a hint of weariness beneath the surface. ‘One more push, and we might have caught Nadir...‘ but he knew better than to voice that out loud.

Crushir’s large shoulders slumped as he pouted, a childlike look crossing his massive face. "Crushir like fight. Want more."

Portilla, more observant than her brother, sat down beside him, stretching out her arms. "We fight again soon, Crushir. Atlas always has plan. You see."

Atlas offered Portilla a grateful glance before turning to survey the battlefield. He could see Oliver’s small force in the distance, making their way toward him. He motioned for them to approach.

Oliver, his face flushed and streaked with dirt, strode up to Atlas, saluting wearily. Behind him, Private Ryan and the rest of his troops stood at attention, their chests heaving from exhaustion.

"That was close," Oliver said, swiping his arm across his brow to remove the sweat that dripped down his face. "Nadir barely slipped through our fingers."

Atlas gave a grunt of agreement, his eyes not leaving the horizon where Nadir had disappeared. "He’ll live to fight another day, but not for long. His losses were heavy—he’s on the run now. The next time we meet, he won’t escape."

‘Chasing down the enemy leader was important, but not as important as the upcoming sacking of the Faith Settlement‘