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Aden scanned the battlefield, looking for an opening amidst the chaos. His gaze settled on the eastern side, where skirmishes seemed fewer and farther between. Without a moment's hesitation, Aden broke into a sprint, his booted feet pounding the blood-soaked earth, hoping to find a path to safety.

His powerful strides ate up the ground, carrying him ever closer to that elusive path of escape. Aden's eyes strained against the roiling smoke, searching for any sign of an ambush or barrier.

However, his advance was abruptly halted by three enemy soldiers blocking his way. Undeterred, Aden charged forward, gripping his sword with renewed determination.

As he closed the distance, Aden feinted to the left, attempting to catch one of the soldiers off guard with a swift strike. But to his surprise, the enemy soldier deflected his blade with ease, parrying the attack as if anticipating his every move.

Shit, what the...? Did he deflect my strike?

The tactic that had served him well against common enemy soldiers seemed ineffective against these adversaries. Aden realized quickly that these were no ordinary foes.

Abandoning his sword momentarily, Aden snatched up a spear lying beside the charred remains of a fallen cavalryman and an orc. The acrid stench of burnt flesh assailed his nostrils, serving as a grim reminder of the consequences of failure – a fate he had no intention of sharing.

As he gripped the spear, Aden felt a pang of conviction, recalling Ruhim's teachings about the importance of honoring the dead through proper burial rites. But such thoughts were quickly pushed aside as the three soldiers advanced, their eyes studying the way Aden held his new weapon, his thumbs pointed towards the spear's deadly tip.

"Ah, look what we've got here," one of the soldiers remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice. "A fellow Jinn."

In an instant, Aden understood. Their ability to deflect his strikes and read his movements – these were no ordinary soldiers. They were Jinns, like himself, trained in the same ancient ways of combat and bound by the same codes of honor.

A wry smile tugged at the corner of Aden's lips as he realized the challenge that lay before him. Facing opponents who shared his skill and knowledge would require more than mere trickery. This would be a true test of his abilities, a clash of blades and wits that could only be settled through pure mastery of the Jinn arts.

"Great," Aden scoffed.

What are the odds? to run into fellow Jinns in enemy rank, three of them, in the middle of escape, with wyverns chasing his back—out of the frying pan into the fire.

With a deep breath, Aden shifted his stance, centering himself as he prepared to engage his fellow Jinns in battle. This was no longer a skirmish against faceless foes; it was a duel of honor, a dance of steel and steel that would determine the fate of those who walked the path of the warrior.

Aden was well aware that a duel between two Jinns either took a split second or an eternity, there was no in-between. Fighting one Jinn would take forever let alone three Jinns.

If only they were common soldiers Aden would've cut them down easily. no need to do this and that brain-churning battle of wit and technical stuff which would took forever risking himself for another enemy soldiers to join in.

"Umm.. parley?" Aden tried to buy some time to catch his breath. He wasn't in the mood to fight fellow Jinns.

"You are in no position to ask a parley," the other two enemy soldiers replied.

"I'm sorry," the first enemy soldier looks like he is not so sincere about that.

As Aden and his enemy faced each other, the enemy soldier couldn't help but make a snide remark about Aden's helmet uniform.

"Anyway. before we strike you down. I just wanna ask something that has bothered me since the first day I met Khanadi's army on the battlefield. how do you guys keep your confident walking around with that chamberpot on your head." the enemy Jinn sneered as he asked Aden.

His two comrades burst into laughter. They didn't wear a helmet. a very dangerous habit of a particular mercenary group of Median —such as the Jinn— on the battlefield to not wear a helmet.

Aden's eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching with anger. He knew that he had to keep his composure, rise above the petty insults, and focus on the task at hand.

"Yeah, we fight with what we're given," he replied, his voice steady and measured. "I'm not an ungrateful person."

The enemy soldier snorted, his eyes fixed on Aden's helmet. "Well, if I were you, I don't want to be caught dead wearing that thing," he said, his voice filled with contempt.

"Let us help you remove that helmet..along with your head."

Aden took a deep breath, his mind focused on the battle that lay ahead. He knew that he had to stay calm and collected, to rise above the insults and focus on the task at hand—escape the massacre.

"We all have our own ways of fighting," he said, his voice firm and resolute. "But in the end, it's not about what we wear or how we look. It's about our skill and resolve."

The enemy soldier sneered, his eyes fixed on Aden's helmet. "Well, I guess we'll see who will keep his head by the end of the day," he said, his voice filled with arrogance.

Aden nodded, his eyes fixed on the three enemy soldiers in front of him.

"Can you fellows give me some slack?" Aden tried to bargain his life. "I have some gold back in my hometown if you let me live."

It was a common practice for a soldier to pay his own ransom instead of getting himself sold as a slave in Median culture.

"Ah, about that.." The first soldier responded, "We have a specific order, it seems like the Emir Yuza has a bit of..resentment, over his losing streak."

"So it's a yes?" Aden hoped for the best.

The first soldier looked unamused at Aden then he looked to both of his fellow soldiers who shook their heads, "It's a no. We are sorry. You will be wyvern's dinner by the end of the day."

"Wyvern don't eat human." Aden corrected them.

"Wanna try your luck?" The enemy soldier asked with a smug face.

the three soldiers ready with their stance. They had enough of small talk. the three enemy soldiers circle around Aden, walking slowly taking position to flank him from his side.

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"May the eyes of the cowards never sleep," Aden replied. He stepped back a little, making sure three of them were still in his peripheral view.

The air became tense, way more tense than the friendly soldiers getting destroyed by the enemy's wyverns and soldiers.

He assessed the situation. He has a spear while his opponent soldiers only have shamshir by their hands. He was not totally underhanded. He could play this right if he kept them at a distance and in his scope of view.

They started closing in slowly from three directions. They knew Aden could only use his spear in one direction.

his tip of the spear pointed toward the enemy soldier in his front. Aden widened his stance and lowered his body for a bit, not too light nor too heavy.

They were in a position ready to launch.

which one will charge forward first, or are they gonna charge forward simultaneously? That's the question in his mind.

Aden knew that he was outnumbered, but he refused to back down. It was three Jinns in the enemy rank or the three wyverns looming in the sky. He knew exactly which one got more chance of survival.

He stood his ground, his eyes fixed on his opponents, waiting for the right moment to strike.

"..May the soul of the brave lives." The enemy soldiers lunged towards Aden at the same time, their swords flashing in the sunlight.

Aden took a chance at the talker one on his right side. at the same time, Aden made the rest of the enemy soldiers were blocked by friendly targets. Aden took advantage of his enemy's right hand as the dominant hand. It was difficult for the talker to swing his sword at Aden because Aden moved to his left side and he had to turn his body toward Aden—It made his momentum less powerful.

he evaded the sword and made his enemy on his right expose his torso at him. In a split moment, Aden thrust his spear into his enemy's neck and mortally wounded him. The enemy soldier grabbed his neck to prevent blood loss.

Aden used his enemy's body as a cover from the other enemy soldiers. He kept the other enemy soldiers behind their mortally wounded friend.

Just as he was striking the other enemy behind the mortally wounded enemy soldier, Aden heard a familiar whistling sound. It was an arrow, flying through the air right beside his ear him. The red banner's archer units revealed themselves, they were back on the battlefield. Aden quickly ducked, narrowly avoiding another arrow.

As he ducked, a barrage of stray arrows suddenly wheezed all over their heads, forcing the enemy soldiers to take cover. There were two of them left in front of him. Aden took advantage of the chaos, cutting down one of them with a swift stroke of his sword.

But just as he was about to strike the last soldier—Shuck!

Aden felt a sharp pain in his head. His head was spinning.

A stray arrow had pierced through his helmet, made a shallow stab to his head, and almost went through his skull. Aden had to remove his helmet, fresh blood drenching the left side of his face from the open wound.

He took a look at the arrow, realizing that it was a piercing arrow, designed to penetrate even the strongest armor. Aden knew that he had to be careful, for the enemy soldiers were skilled and resourceful.

They don't care about fratricide, attacking their friendly units as they are still engaging the opponent. the enemy truly wanted to finish off their enemy's army —which Aden served— to the last man.

the barrage of arrows seems like has been stopped. Aden wore his chamberpot helmet again. It saved him once, it may save him again.

As he looked around, Aden saw that the last soldier who had insulted his helmet was lying on the ground, pierced by an arrow into his temple. He had been too proud to wear a helmet in battle, thinking that they were winning and that the archers of the Emir Khanadi army had been obliterated and posed no threat to them whatsoever. Aden felt a sense of satisfaction in irony, knowing that his helmet —the one that looked like a chamberpot— had saved his life.

He looked around, the battlefield situation was still not in favor of him and his fellow soldiers as they were fleeing everywhere.

The stray arrows were still flying wildly but not as intense as before.

Aden kept his head down as he ran seeking safety or an escape route. He looked everywhere for another friendly dispatcher to show him the escape route but none of the dispatchers was seen. He assumed the dispatchers were the ones already burned to a crisp by the wyverns. Killing the dispatchers and standard-bearers of the enemy was the basic strategy on the battlefield—to confuse the enemy.

From the other side of the sand and smoke screen, Aden heard footsteps closing in. He carefully peeked. They wore yellow war garb of Khanadi's army, his fellow soldiers.

"Get to the east!" the fellow soldiers are yelling at each other.

"To the coast!" as they took off their armor to reduce weight so they could run faster and not sink when they jumped into the sea.

"Hey! Where is it?" Aden asked one of his fellow soldiers, "Where is the coast?"

"Just over that hill." the fellow soldier pointed toward the hill by the east side. He ran faster than Aden, he already took off his armor, boots, and helmet. He didn't look back, all he thought was jump into the sea, the sea which would give them freedom from being executed or burned to a crisp by a wyvern.

Aden tried not to dwell on the horrific scenes they fled - the piles of smoldering corpses, the dismembered limbs scattered like grisly trophies. He focused instead on the rhythmic pounding of his boots against the earth, letting the sound anchor him to their desperate bid for freedom.

Aden could see the hill but it was still far away. He thought he couldn't make it considering that the enemy pursuers were catching up to him, he was tired and dehydrated, running around under the heat of the scorching battlefield. His legs couldn't keep up to his will to run. Aden dropped to his knees. leaned on his spear, Aden is considering to stand and fight to the end. yet, his body would disagree. He could barely move.

As desperation gripped Aden's heart, an enemy wyvern unit landed in front of him. Followed by a roar, the wyvern opened its jaw, and sparks of fire started to form, ready to blast him with its flame.

It was his turn.

Perhaps the fleeing fellow soldiers were already wiped out by them or they were just bored and decided to go back to the battlefield to join the happy hunt for what's left of Khanadi's army.

In his struggle to find resolve, the earth itself seemed to rebel. Aden felt the ground was shaking again—the enemy wyvern hastily took off.

The ground trembled violently beneath Aden's boots, a deep rumbling that reverberated through his very core. It was another earthquake, but this one carried a magnitude unlike anything he'd ever experienced. The sheer force of it threatened to buckle the earth itself.

"Crap!" he screamed as a fissure split open directly beneath his feet. Before he could even comprehend what was happening, the ground collapsed, and he was swallowed into the pitch-black abyss of an underground river.

The fierce currents immediately seized him in their unrelenting grasp, whipping him through the dark caverns at breakneck speed. He tumbled helplessly, limbs flailing as he collided against the jagged, unforgiving walls of the subterranean passage. Rocks tore at his flesh, but the sturdy helmet absorbed the worst of the impacts, quite likely saving his life.

Aden gasped for air when he could, desperate gulps that were promptly choked out by the churning waters. The currents guided him deeper into the bowels of the earth, the darkness so absolute that he may as well have been blind. Panic clawed at his chest with each bone-jarring collision.

Then, after what felt like an eternity trapped in that hellish abyss, a faint light appeared in the distance - a pinprick of hope that grew brighter and brighter until it blinded him with its radiant intensity. The roar of the rapids intensified as he was violently ejected from the underground passage, launched through the blinding brilliance to plunge into the open sea.

Aden tumbled head-over-heels as he breached the surface, saltwater filling his mouth and nose. His senses were utterly disoriented, the light still too intense after his time submerged in total blackness. He thrashed wildly, trying to right himself even as the raging currents threatened to drag him back under.

Finally, Aden's survival instinct kicked in, he managed to break through the disorientation, he took off his armor and swam to the surface, gulping in precious lungfuls of air as his eyes slowly adjusted to the dazzling sunlight glittering off the waves. Treading water, he whipped his head around, trying to get his bearings in this strange, new environment he'd been so unceremoniously deposited into.

All he could see was the endless expanse of cerulean sea stretching in every direction. The towering cliffs he'd emerged from faded into the distance behind him, an impossible maze of warped rock sculpted by the relentless forces of the earth.

Aden was alone, a castaway set adrift without supplies or any hope of immediate rescue. His only solace was that he'd survived the harrowing underground ordeal... though to what ultimate fate, he could not begin to guess.

He clung to a piece of wooden board, drifting on the waves for two days until he was discovered by the Merlyon—Emer Thalassia and Regalyon joint naval army. Bedraggled and battered, he was fished out by the Merlyon naval patrol.

The Merlyon mistook Aden as a pirate which they had obliterated before at the same time of battle of Al-Ard was happening.

After three days of sailing with the navy patrol as a captive, Aden was brought to the shores of a foreign land. The territory he found himself in belonged to the powerful Regalyon empire in the northern part of the Median peninsula. He had been granted a chance at survival, snatched from the jaws of death in the fiery aftermath of the Battle of Al-Ard.

The battle may have ended, but its echoes would resonate for years to come. The tactics had shifted, and the power dynamics were forever altered by the grand appearance of the Flamecrest Wyverns. Aden's journey had taken an unexpected turn, leading him away from the scorching sands and land of Al-Ard to an uncertain destiny within the waters of the Regalyon empire.

The sands of war had swept him away from the conflict, sparing him a fate shared by his fallen comrades. As he stared at the unfamiliar coastline, his thoughts turned to the devastating battle he had left behind, and he wondered what new chapter awaited him in the wake of his escape.

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