EPISODE 184: RED SAND

— EMPIRE OF AZ’DAWN, YEAR 7291. SEASON: FINAL ENDING.

The sun blazed—hot, vicious… , and scalding the desert sands of the Empire of Az’Dawn. It stood at its zenith, and Allura Grasci Az’Dawn felt the heat on her skin and heard the call of home. The newly named [Caravan of Hope] traveled across the scalding sands; the Ironhide mounts skittered across said ground, padding on their feet to protect them from overheating and burning. The [Dustguards], Imperial Legionnaires sent as her protection, spread themselves out nearly a kilometer around the victorious returning caravan. Allura kept her new [Deathguards] close at hand, the words of Prince Lawruthian an unrelenting stain on her thoughts. She looked to her left, where the blue sea was shown in the distance—its waters glittered like gems. Her thoughts turned to her journey thus far—two words that echoed through her head in an endless loop.

“ Nothing… ”

…

“ Everything .”

Her gaze silently traveled to the jewel-encrusted bracelet slipped around her left wrist, jealously guarded throughout the months from all. It was here that hope for a new future, a change in status, and recognition was placed.

One that would dye the sands red.

[Kinslayer] or [Kingslayer], Allura Grasci Az’Dawn wasn’t certain what sounded better as a title. She knew her journey to achieve the second feat had only begun, and she would do whatever it took to complete it. The [Heavenly Father], Emperor Zerxus Illumindom Az’Dawn, neared his end—his thoughts unaware as he suffered from the madness of {Mage’s Distortion}.

“A copper for your thoughts.”

Allura smiled, turning to face Aunt Chine as she climbed atop Allura’s carriage. Strangely, she held her hand out for Allura to grasp and pull her up.

“You’d be losing your money’s worth,” Allura chuckled, scooting to make room for her aunt as she pulled her upward. They sat, but Aunt Chine never let go of Allura’s hand. Instead, she continued their conversation while her thumb carefully traced a message.

“I’m sure a princess’s thoughts are worth far more,” Aunt Chine responded, her gaze pointed outward at the patrolling guards. “Are you ready to see Ma’vel? The dates should be near their ripeness and ready to be plucked!”

We attack tonight—I suspect the [Dustguards] have found an area of ambush. Stay inside your carriage—no matter what.

“I’m ready to return home, back to Medina,” Allura gushed, her mind pulled in two directions as she listened to her aunt’s words—both silent and spoken. “This trip has taken nearly eight months—it will be good to be home.”

Prepare your [Deathguards] and alert that woman of our intentions when she comes to greet you at lunch. We spare no one.

“Oh, I understand your reasoning, I just miss the unique foods of our home. I’ve missed the heat, strangely…”

----------------------------------------

The night of Az’Dawn was a stark contrast to its day. A cold, biting wind swirled up the sand and threatened to extinguish the flames of the campfires—clouds above dark and ominous. Allura sat in her carriage gently stroking [Ambition’s Wrath] like the hairless cats of home. It arched underneath her touch, as if stretching, awakening from a long nap.

The sands of Az’Dawn differed in their color, but most were a bland sand that stretched endlessly across the rolling hills. All manner of critters lived in the desert, hunting in the early hours and late at night. It was rare for any creature, whether vulture or scorpion, to be out during the day’s sweltering heat. This night was silent, except for the rushing wind. A dust storm brewed, and Allura was certain a twister or two would be seen traveling over the desert tonight.

The three moons were just entering their first crescent, barely providing light to see. [Ambition’s Wrath] tightened its grip around her body, covering her face and leaving only her Aubrey-colored eyes for the world to see. The princess waited—waiting for the sounds of clashing steel and the gurgles of the throat as warriors choked out their final breath. Allura waited—waiting for the cry of alarm as a battle to secure the— her —future took place. The [Kinslayer] waited—waiting for the same ruthlessness that possessed her to make its reappearance.

The night was cold—good enough to steal the chill of flesh as its final breath faded. Allura moved, the signal given as steel clashed on steel. She burst through her carriage door—obstinate in ignoring her aunts words.

Stay inside your carriage—no matter what.

Two flaming whips wrapped around the armored throat of a [Dustguard], scoring a critical hit as she surprised the man. Allura pulled, and the guard’s neck snapped as a charred husk fell to the ground. Magic and Energy flared, both similar in Power enhancements but different in application. Allura paused for a moment, the dim ping of a level-up just one of the many background noises around her. Red blood flowed, dying the sand red—the namesake of her clan.

Redsan.

Before her eyes, Yorimen and Magi-humans battled in the dark—scattered flames from broken campfires barely allowed sight. The magi moved with vicious efficiency led by their leader, a short reddish blonde-haired woman.

She called herself Laura Lance.

The ground turned to magma under her feet, as both parties fought in a battle that surrounded her carriage. Allura’s gaze followed the woman and her callous actions as she slayed any Yoriman who crossed her path. Laura moved like a hound chasing prey—leading it into its master’s trap, except this hound’s master wasn’t here. She accelerated, shield bashing a [Dustguard] Allura conversed with just today. Her dark blade slithered between his armor’s opening before it pulled to the right, slicing the man nearly in twain. His organs spilled onto the magma beneath her, his flesh sizzling as it cooked to perfection. Laura— HOWLED —her magic accompanied by the whistling of the wind.

The storm was here.

Laura’s howl was well received by the harsh winds and responded in kind by the magi around. Allura’s eyes slipped away, [Ambition’s Wrath] lit with flames as it searched for its next victim.

“(Grasci Combat Art),” she activated, her body danced out the way as a blade hungered for her back. Allura ducked—Dustguards fought with both a scimitar and jambiya, at least this one did. He sneered as he looked at her, recognizing her for who she was. All pretense was gone, it seems the prince spoke true of her guards’ intentions.

“Which one of my siblings brought you? Was it Fatima—that two-faced bitch,” Allura sneered, striking as she spoke. “Or was Aisha’s gold better? Perhaps it was Amir, a snake wearing human skin? Or Idris, who believes himself a prophet for Dawn.”

The guard remained silent, casually dodging her blows or redirecting the force of those he couldn’t.

Of course he was stronger than her.

It didn’t take long for Allura to be on the back foot, her harsh offense forced into a strict defense. He was stronger, but not by an amount that immediately threatened her life. A princess was a princess—no matter her status, her class, or bloodline, it allowed her a Mythical start—far superior to her opponent. The wind howled around them, kicking up sand as twisters formed in the night sky. That… shouldn’t have happened this fast.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

Aunt Chine.

Her aunt held an [Energy Sculptor] class—one of the highest achievements in the attribute. She could mimic a mage using Energy, and it seemed she triggered the storm early. Had Allura expected a response from the legionnaire, then she was due for disappointment. The legionnaire pressed his advantage, scoring glancing blows that [Ambition’s Wrath] couldn’t halt.

-150 Health Points.

-142 Health Points.

-174 Health Points.

A sound similar to glass shattering on a stone floor rang in Allura’s ears—silent to all but her. She hissed as he truly drew blood, his attacks powerful enough to break her buffer Health Points provided by her various titles. Her eyebrows arched, a vein of irritation sprouted on her forehead.

“(Ambitious Strikes).”

A flurry of energized flame empowered strikes rushed toward the legionnaire—some easily flicked away by his scimitar or jambiya, others barely grazing him enough to transfer proper damage.

Hamza Zoor -76 Health Points.

Hamza Zoor -120 Health Points.

Hamza Zoor -52 Health Points.

Hamza Zoor has resisted {Ember’s Desire}.

Allura’s fist tightly gripped the leather handles of her whips—her damage was nothing… NOTHING. The legionnaire smirked at her, adjusting his neck as he prepared himself for another round. Flames surged, their color going from a campfire orange and red to a deep dark blood-red. Allura stomped —her body accelerating as she activated her movement skills. Her opponent did the same, their bodies flickered from one area to another, lost in the surging sandstorm.

Lightning flashed, and thunder split the sky in twain. The wind screamed in rage as the first of the twisters touched down—their winds sharp and tearing any who touched them to pieces. They surged with a green glow as two figures fought in between them and two figures fought beneath them. Chine Redsan appeared like an angel who followed the path of light, while Legionnaire Ramus was in harsh contrast—a devil who bared his fangs against the heavens.

“We could have spared you Redsan—gave your clan a way out. Now all of you will DIE ,” he struck as he spoke, his scimitar slick with the blood of magi.

Chine dodged backwards, a twister cutting before her and clouding her from Ramus’s sight. The Energy she used to pull this storm together was quickly returning—her Virtue of Patience surged her strength to a level demigods could compete with. Two wings sprouted just above her waist, heavenly in their appearance as a halo encompassed her back, its light a dim soft green.

Chine struck back, diving on her opponent like a falcon seeking prey. Bullhorns surged from his skull, his wrath given shape into reality. A single, desolate black wing jutted out from the upper-left side of his back. The wing was barren and looked more like a reaper’s scythe than an appendage meant for flight.

A heavenly angel versus a hellish devil.

An age-old tale of good versus evil.

A battle of opposites took place underneath them—the flames of Allura’s weapons grew darker. Her opponent was diligent in his process, his body performed its actions with precise care with every attack. She despised him, and her feelings fueled her Wrath. Her attacks grew stronger, more wild and unkept. His grew firmer, more precise and meticulous. The twisters increased around them—growing numerous as they circled their battlefield.

“A Virtue of Diligence? No wonder you don’t speak,” Allura sneered, a whip striking deep into the ground and sprouting upwards—her hidden attack missed, the legionnaire dodging upward.

Of course he could fly.

He held at least forty levels on Allura then. He was a threat, one that qualified her Wrath.

“( Sin of Wrath ),” Allura sighed.

Legionnaire Ramus’s blade clashed against Chine’s—green and red sparks flew as lightning danced across the sky, its coloration similar. Chine pushed off him, (Wind Blades) slicing through the air. Ramus sneered, his blade flickered as dark flames spat from them—explosions burst in the sky like fireworks. One of them would die today—Ramus held no plans of failing his mission.

Chine was skilled, but she and Ramus were on even playing fields. She hadn’t grown up a princess of the Az’Dawn and her clan was young and new—their resources weren’t as extensive as those of older, ancient clans. Her attribute distribution wasn’t far from Ramus’s own. As all soldiers of the Elrunian Realm, Ramus was taken in as a youth and his training to become great started since. He was fortunate to belong to a clan who could provide better resources that allowed him to be recognized and nurtured by his Imperial Majesty.

Their figures intertwined, blades locked as they appeared to be the most intimate lovers. Chine grunted, a sharp scythe pierced through her abdomen as Ramus’s new appendage struck. They split off, pushed away from one another as red blood flowed… dying the sands below.

Chine Redsan -857 Health Points.

Chine Redsan has been inflicted with {Bleed} -50 Health Points per 30 seconds.

“Do you know why my family chose the name Redsan,” Chine questioned, her voice carried through the wind and storm. Twisters revolved around them—their number never decreasing, only increasing as they threw up sand—causing chaos as the two sides fought. Ramus remained silent, but for a moment—his scythe pulled to his lips as he licked the red blood from it, a shudder of ecstasy reverberated through his body—oh, he would enjoy this.

“Hurry it up—I’ll allow you your final epilogue,” he spoke as if in a play. He was the lead male in a dark, dramatic tragedy, and she…? She was the tragic heroine, fated to fall before the curtains closed.

Chine’s lips curled upward, a playful smirk on her face. She sheathed her sword, but not in defeat. The twisters consolidated around her and Ramus—circling them like vultures spotting downed prey.

Chine Redsan slipped between them, leaving her final words behind as she allowed the attack to consume him. “It is because that is what we do best.”

Allura whips wrapped around the body of the legionnaire—the twisters they fought around his very demise. Her muscles strained as she viciously ripped both arms outward—his body split into chunks… his blood…?

It dyed the sands red.

Chine Redsan has slain [Legionnaire] Ramus.

Allura Grasi Az’Dawn has slain [Legionnaire] Hamza.