Port Eshnuk, the only official port of the Tasdaha Protectorate. The distance between the port and the capital was that of the length of As-Z̆onghu̐a. Under Azutami control since 1947, the Azu government was the sole helper in industrializing the country, building roads and buildings.

The Al-Wa ship moored in the docks for the final time of their journey, as Mr. Khouw was instructed to bring all the fighters above. Kwazhak took in the scenery, and it was everything but bon vivant. The workers on Ophir Landing were all Khoitan, while the managers directing them were Azu officers. All buildings bore their conqueror’s architecture. Not only did Azu control the protectorate, the entire regime was led by a Khoitan branch of the Azu royal bloodline, the Sultan Miyuydahaj, conceived from one of the many women of Dineh village chiefs with an Azu noble.

“Lisen up. In akodanse with international law, you handkaffs will be taken off,” Mr. Khouw spoke Khoit with an accent. He remembered what Kwazhak had taught him. He walked to each and every one of them and set them free. However there were other soldiers that were monitoring them, including Conghuong. Walking down the gangplank, they were heading towards the Tasdaha Consulate. The facility was marked with the Imperial Seal of Azutami, a golden chrysanthemum, and the Tasdaha Coat of Arms, a sarilang flower with akimbo crossed scimitars.

Once inside, the air conditioning kicked in and everyone felt the cold air landing on their skin, au fait to the desert heat outside. The white linoleum floor was littered with sand, the blue color on the walls faded. As Mr. Khouw and Conghuong were at the front desk, the rest were escorted into a waiting room. The hall was lined with empty chairs. They all took a seat while Kwazhak began to put his plan into motion.

The most enthusiastic one about it was Suruj, offering his past experience fighting Tayang in Buhanggilog. By the description, the captain was adept at demoralization and negating attacks. Kwazhak himself also had an idea from the battle in Wakoku. Hyun-woo and Perez agreed to be the key saboteurs. This was their last chance.

Once the Al-Wa detachment managed to gain a B-1 visa, they rented four buggies to transport the ten fighters. The port’s metal gates bidding them farewell, they approached the famous desert of the Dine al-Othoji. He gazed at the white sand, the lightest in color when compared to the other great deserts of Sunakhamaj, Tier̃a Muęrta, and the Ommekadi Taesi. The Azu had built the now sand-covered roads that were the highway to the city. The problem would soon reveal itself.

The buggies were divided into two quadrants, splitting the fighters five to five on the opposite sides. It was harder to hijack together unless they were to both drive off to the right respectively. They were going at a high speed. Time was limited. Once they approached the city, they would be teleported there instantly. So it had to be now. Kwazhak was in the fourth buggy, in the bottom right corner. He couldn’t communicate with the other five across from him. His instincts soothed his breathing, hoping they understood the gravity of the situation. Kwazhak and the four in the driving box of steel nodded. Perez broke his handcuffs. Snapping it in half, a gauntlet slid towards him. The alarm soon rang, as the two soldiers in the front looked back. The grunts met a metal fist. Swiftly he took the glove off and took control of the wheel, the vehicle doing a hard right. Kwazhak opened the roof hatch above and climbed out. He focused his mind onto the cuffs. The binds exploded to a sahar overload. On top of the buggy he saw the other swerve to the right, following them. However it wasn’t the one that contained the fighters, but Al-Wa paramilitary. Kwazhak’s buggy took fire, projectiles and spells flinging in a flash.

“Dihu Baohu,” He extended his hand out, blocking everything around the vehicle. A soldier managed to slip past his shield and landed on the roof.

“Dihu Nenrik,” Kwazhak maintained the shield with his only hand. He focused his eyes on the soldier, eyes glowing red. The grunt levitated and was thrown off.

The buggy pursuing them suddenly collided with another. The sound of screeching metal and rubber battering his ears. Suruj was on top. Kwazhak’s tense shoulder lessened. They had deviated from the original route, steering directly right. A loud boom sounded, as sand bursted from below the pursuing buggy. Violently it flew in the air before crashing upside down. Suruj’s hands were glowing. But still the last buggy began to pursue them, as the two hijacked ones drove side by side. Mr. Khouw finally climbed up, on the same one as Suruj.

“We need to take out the last one!” Kwazhak shouted to him in Renhua. Mr. Khouw nodded as he took out his rifle, bearing a scope and a long barrel. The driver was in the crosshairs. He pulled the bolt back and forward.

“Dihu Baohu.”

An energy shield surrounded the enemy vehicle. It deflected the bullet. Tayang leaned out the passenger window with a gun. As long as the captain was still alive, their lives were at stake. A blue projectile flew towards them. Suruj put his arm below the hatch to pull out Toqemur.

“Oop, not happening. Alam Tusgal!” Her green eyes illuminated. Absorbing it through her hand, she launched it back faster.

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“Dihu Quxiao.”

The projectile connected with sahar. The blue bullet bounced back to them faster and stronger. Mr. Khouw stepped forward and negated it with a shield. This wouldn’t last long. They needed to shake them off somehow. Then they went up a dune, a sudden leap upward. Kwazhak felt himself airborne. He reached onto the machine’s roof handle. His stomach flew for a moment. The terrain was changing now that they swerved away from the road. The buggies roared as they struggled to go over each slope.

“M’lord, I can’t hit them correctly if we keep this up!” Khouw warned, “I will need to time it correctly.”

“Calm thyself, Mr. Khouw. There is a way. Dihu Nenrik.”

Kwazhak lifted him up into the air. Khouw aimed again at the driver. A shell ejected as he cocked it. Even if the ground wasn’t stable, it didn’t matter if he was floating. Suruj and the others above guarded Khouw, who was focusing on the chest of the driver in his scope. Toqemur created a barrier around him, while Suruj deflected anything coming at them from above. A bang reverberated. A bullet flew from Khouw’s barrel to the buggy’s windshield. It hit the driver’s arm. The vehicle veered violently. Ramming full speed into one of the hijacked buggies. Metal sparks popped like fireworks. The ground sweeped below them. Swerving, it collided with the second one. Their legs faltered, drifting in the white sand.

“I can’t turn!” Hyun-woo shouted, his veins bulging from his arm.

“Same here! Puñeta!” Perez’s gauntlets etched into the steering wheel. His teeth were grinding.

“It is imperative that we stabilize them! Or else-” Kwazhak turned around. Tayang pointed a pistol at his head. Sand blasted into the air like a geyser. The three buggies slammed into a steep dune. Saharic particles and shrapnel flew. The engines expelled sahar in streams of white. Fire danced across the desert.

“Thou art a Laoyuang. It doesn’t matter who thy mother was, nor what she was,” Kwazhak’s brother, Laoyuang Zhenbyoung said to his little sibling, who was reaching adolescence.

“But brother Zhen, I want-”

“Pardon your words. ‘However’ is the correct saying. Our speech is of the utmost importance,” He led him by his shoulders, walking through the lush courtyard of the Jade Palace, their home. The gardens spread its moss and green grass, colorful blue and purple flowers strung like paint on a canvas. The sun was generous, the cold air and warming sun made a perfect paradise. Laoyuang Zhen was his half-brother of the same father. Unlike Kwazhak, Zhen was a full blooded Z̆ongren, the Crown Prince. Zhen was older, more sagacious, and well trusted. While Kwazhak had barely passed his classes of law and government, treated as incompetent by the Al-Qarakh and Laoyuang Houses.

“Now, draw your sword,” Zhen manifested a wooden sword in his hands. “Today we shall try again to harness thy Guizu Arcana.”

“Yes, brother Zhen.”

Little Kwazhak held out his hands as if he was grabbing something, but nothing appeared. He heard from the Imperial physicians. Due to his mixed blood, the hereditary ability of the Guizu Arcana, was impossible. Various teachers and sword masters of the Laoyuang House refused to teach him because of Madam Thoj’s blood in his veins. His older brother was different.

Zhen swung his sword. Kwazhak dodged his attacks. But he stood in awe for a moment.

“Ouch…” Kwazhak’s arms were struck, leaving a red bruise. His brother stopped.

“Concentrate. This talent, that of which requires no sahar, is a gift bestowed by Azazel himself. That has been carefully chosen and cultivated by many generations of Laoyuang before us,” Zhen went on, “However our father is a roué, and tended to many concubines. As a result thee were born, mother Thoj raised you half Khoitan and half Z̆ongren. Even after her death, you have not once changed. Neglecting thy duties, neglecting thyself.”

“Don’t insult my mother… for she was brought as a slave during the northern conquests,” Kwazhak argued with a strong voice, wiping his lip. “Remember in Da Xiagu? Her people in chains, sold off to the Dineh Kazaàd. Father kept but one, the prettiest of them all. ‘However’, all she got here was oppression and mockery. She did her best to help the Laoyuang House, since mother had come to love our father.”

Zhen raised an eyebrow, with an idea in his head.

“Then prove that Madam Thoj’s legacy wasn’t for nought. Lái le,” He gestured, practice sword in hand. Zhen rushed at him. Kwazhak needed to know where he came from. Step by step, he needed to find the traces of the Máak tribe, no matter how long it took for him to understand. Because of his mother, the Houses never gave him his own portrait. Because of his mother, his uncles hid him in the closets. Because of his mother, those tears on his bed never dried.

Little Kwazhak stepped in for the block. An awakening. Particles of creation, a divine grace. He could feel the weight of it on his arms, It was a long metal blade, one sharp edge and a round hilt. He parried Zhen’s sword. He tossed it several zhang away. His eyes widened. The weight of the sword brought Kwazhak to the ground. For a moment, there was silence. A smile drew across Zhen’s face, helping him up. A sweltering warmth stirred inside him. Kwazhak didn’t know how to process these new feelings, the feeling that he had finally made his brother proud. Tears swelled like a morning storm.

“You did well, Kwazhak. Out of all the heirs to the Laoyuang House,” Zhen patted his little brother’s head, as Kwazhak couldn’t stop his own orifices, “Thou art the youngest to ever use the Guizu Arcana. They did not want you to succeed. Yeow Khouw.”

Khouw appeared from a nearby bush, watching curiously. With kind eyes Zhen ushered him to them.

“Rejoice. Kwazhak Laoyuang has done a feat that no other heir could,” The older brother hugged Kwazhak, and so did Yeow Khouw, who still was in training, joined in too. It was that time, the son of a Khoitan and Z̆ongren, became the Laoyuang’s second prince.