Not to question why was their call,
But to act, to endure, and stand tall.
War's cruel burden they bore,
Yet from its crucible wisdom did pour.
The life they yearned for, they hold in thrall,
Equally with their foe, be it great or small.
Into Death's valley, undaunted, they did install,
United they rode, a steadfast enthrall.
Deafening Howls of anger and the thunder of the drums echoed over the battlefield, the masses in the armies gripped their weapons, as they readied themselves to meet their maker and take along their enemies with them.
From my vantage point atop a war elephant, I gazed out upon the expansive battlefield. The sun's rays stretched across the horizon, illuminating a sea of warriors and banners. Each fluttering pennant carried the dreams and aspirations of the diverse forces that rallied to my cause — a cause to reclaim the throne and restore indigenous rule to our land. My heart swelled with a mixture of pride, determination, and a profound sense of responsibility— A humble trader’s son was soon to be crowned as the Emperor.
As the enemy forces drew near, a thunderous silence descended upon the field, broken only by the rhythmic beat of war drums. The air crackled with anticipation, and I could feel the weight of history bearing down upon me. The crown of the Sultanate adorned my head, a powerful emblem that symbolized the hopes of my people. With my sword in hand, I prepared to lead my warriors into a battle that would test their mettle and our collective resolve.
As the signal to charge reverberated through the air, the earth trembled beneath the hooves of our war elephants. The clash of steel and the cries of men melded into a symphony of chaos and courage. I spurred my mount forward, a surge of adrenaline coursing through my veins. The wind carried the scent of dust, sweat, and determination – the very essence of our struggle.
The battlefield became a theatre of strategy and valour, with my tactical decisions shaping the ebb and flow of combat. I rode with the vanguard and ordered both flanks to isolate the enemy command. The war elephants, majestic and fearsome, unleashed their power upon the foe, crushing opposition and sowing chaos in our wake.
As the battle raged on, I could see the fire of determination in the eyes of my comrades. The enemy line was about to break and victory was within grasp, yet, even amidst the chaos, destiny is a fickle mistress. A stray arrow tearing through the air—a terrible pain struck my eye, casting a shadow over my vision. Pain seared through my being, but my spirit remained unbroken. I fought on, driven by an unyielding determination to see our cause through to its end.
Has victory at sight made me lower my guard? was it a mounted enemy unit or a traitor shooting at my blind-spot? I wasn’t sure. My conscious was slipping away, I was unable to gather my thoughts. But one thing I was sure — This is the end!
“Perhaps the world is on the brink of its demise, yet here you remain seated, right in the centre, immersed in your reading.”
Amidst a scene that seemed to straddle the precipice of an apocalypse, Yuvan found himself grounded by a simple, yet enigmatic voice that resonated through the air. His surroundings took form under the shade of a colossal steel tower, its apex crowned by a dazzling, metallic orb. This monument stood as a vigilant guardian, burdened with the weighty duty of potentially unleashing an unparalleled force upon the world.
Yuvan, lost in thought, was perched beneath this sentinel structure. The book he held was gradually closed as his gaze lifted from the pages to meet the ascending sun. Its rays painted the desert landscape with a golden touch, spreading a warm, forgiving embrace over the vast and barren expanse. The dawn seemed to smile upon this realm of isolation.
A whispered sentiment pulled Yuvan from his literary reverie, yanking him back to the realm of reality. The words had a gravity, anchoring his mind to the present. As the sun painted the sky with deeper hues of blue, Yuvan's fingers relinquished their hold on the book, allowing it to rest in his lap. He absorbed the scene, contemplating the significance of the moment.
"I live their life through these words," Yuvan whispered to himself, his voice almost a part of the desert breeze. The book was a portal, a conduit through which he experienced lives that danced within the ink and pages. He drew solace and connection from these stories, weaving himself into the narratives of others.
A peculiar invitation lingered in the air. "You will like it; it’s about someone like you—a man with boundless potential." Yuvan's brows knitted together in curiosity; intrigue prying open the door to his imagination. The words hung heavy with the unspoken, a hidden promise that this tale held reflections of his own journey.
A pang of sombre realization resonated in Yuvan's thoughts, brought forth by the words that followed. "If not for the stray arrow, the course of the world would have been different. If you were not going to die today, the future of the world would have been different." The weight of destiny pressed down upon Yuvan's shoulders, the awareness of how a single moment, a mere twist of fate, could alter the course of history.
Yet, amidst this profound reflection, Yohan's voice broke through the contemplative silence. A smile graced Yuvan's lips, a response to the observation that he hadn't quite expected his friend to be here. "You weren't confident that I would come!" Yohan's words carried a hint of playful reproach, a light-heartedness that pierced through the gravity of the situation.
"I harboured my uncertainties," Yuvan confessed, his form rising from his seat, his gaze locking onto Yohan's with a steadfast intensity. Before them stood two figures, locked in a profound encounter, their spirits woven together by a thread that surpassed the confines of time and space. One bore the visage of a battle-hardened warrior, his countenance marked by the scars of conflict and a resolute stance, his eyes gleaming with unyielding resolve. The other emanated an air of profound sagacity and tranquil composure.
Between them, a connection thrived, one that traversed the realm of mortality, leading them to this juncture. "You are the impregnable bastion against which my efforts falter," Yuvan admitted, his voice heavy with acknowledgement. His eyes met Yohan's, and in that connection, a testament to their shared journey was exchanged.
"Should I falter in the face of peril, I have no right to claim you as my adversary," Yuvan's voice held the weight of conviction. The words flowed, intermingling with the essence of their bond. "Furthermore, how else am I to triumph over a behemoth such as you, if I myself cannot stake my life on the line?"
*Radio Static*
The room was filled with the crackling of radio interference, the sound cutting through the air like a sharp blade.
"General! Come in!" the radio's voice reverberated within the confines of the control room, urgently demanding attention.
The General's voice held a composed authority, a reflection of his position. "What is it, sergeant?" he responded, his tone reflecting both curiosity and readiness.
A report came through the radio waves, carrying a sense of urgency. "We've got two unidentified individuals positioned beneath the tower, sir!"
If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
The General's reaction was swift and laced with frustration. "What! Remove them from the site immediately!" His command held an edge of impatience, and dissatisfaction with the perceived inefficiency of his personnel.
The sergeant clarified the nature of the unidentified persons, emphasizing their unfamiliarity. “Sir, by 'unidentified,' I mean they're not part of our forces! One of them looks like a Kraut! And other a Brown.”
The General's frustration escalated as he pieced together the situation. The realization that their adversaries had discovered the operation both angered and exasperated him. "What! How did they manage to locate us? Despite their defeat, they persist in harassing us!" He vented his frustration, the weight of their relentless adversaries gnawing at him.
Taking a decisive course of action, he conveyed his orders with a mixture of resignation and determination. "Stand down, Sergeant. We will proceed with the countdown. Let them meet their demise alongside the impending detonation." With a controlled motion, he set down the transmitter, his gaze turning towards the assembly of scientists in the control room.
The atmosphere was electric with anticipation, a palpable tension filling the air. Observers from various fields – scientists, engineers, and military personnel – found themselves fixated on the unfolding events. The countdown had begun, a culmination of their efforts and ambitions.
Reeeeeeeeeeee!
A siren's wail pierced the atmosphere, its shrill sound reverberating like a haunting prelude. The control room stood at the crossroads of destiny, as the impending detonation loomed ever closer.
“Took them long enough!” Yuvan commented on the siren.
“So, this stone is actually 10.. worth our life. 9.. What if its resilience 8.. surprises us?” Yuvan said while tossing the purple stone in his hand. “The stray arrow 7.. that will claim 6.. your life, 5.. will you fall 4.. like the unlucky king 3.. or pluck it out 2.. and chew it.” 1..
0.. Yohan transmitted his thoughts while leaping towards the stone, runes started to glow over his body. He grabbed the stone but Yuvan didn’t let it go out of his grip.
“To be born again you have to die first!”
KABOOM!
Everyone present was startled by the brilliant moment of light as if the radiance of a thousand suns were to burst at once into the sky, and the explosion like that of distant thunder. In an instant, a scorching fireball formed, expanding rapidly and engulfing everything in its path. The intense heat generated by the nuclear reaction reached temperatures hotter than the surface of the sun, turning sand into glass and melting steel structures within seconds.
The explosion’s brilliance painted the heavens with hues of white and orange, casting eerie shadows upon the ground. The very air seemed ablaze, the fireball's ferocity reaching temperatures beyond imagination. For fleeting instants, it outshone the sun, an ominous testament to humanity's newfound power over the universe's elemental forces.
Heads raised, eyes locked on the spectacle, capturing the unearthly beauty of a peculiar mushroom cloud unfurling silently against the distant blue expanse. The world's trajectory had irrevocably shifted, and they were the agents of this transformation. Laughter mixed with tears, a few grappling with the weight of becoming destroyers of worlds—harbingers of death. Silence permeated the majority. The two young men were momentarily forgotten.
Amidst the contemplative silence, the first to snap back to reality was the General. With unwavering authority, he voiced his directive, his words slicing through the room, "Inform the POTUS. The enemies are aware. We need to expedite the drop."
The impact had sent a shockwave rippling through the stone and a burst of radiant energy erupted—overshadowed by the explosion. The released energy surged outward, creating a luminous pathway that seemed to bridge the gap between the mortal plane and realms beyond. The souls of the newly departed young men were dragged into the portal by an invisible force. As they moved along the radiant pathway, the veil between worlds grew thin. Cosmic vistas stretched out before them, a tapestry of swirling nebulae and distant stars. Time seemed to lose its meaning as they journeyed onward, along their separate paths.
In the boundless expanse of oblivion, a solitary soul floated, adrift amidst an endless sea of nothingness. Devoid of form and substance, it existed as a mere whisper of existence, a faint echo of a forgotten reality. In this timeless void, there were no points of reference, no markers of space or time—only an eternal emptiness that enveloped the soul in its all—encompassing embrace.
Without the constraints of a physical vessel, the soul’s awareness expanded, transcending the limitations of the senses. It was as if the very essence of being had been distilled to its purest form, free from the distractions of the material world. There were no sights to see, no sounds to hear, yet the soul's consciousness shimmered with a quiet intensity, a silent symphony of thoughts and emotions that resonated within its core.
As the soul floated through this ethereal expanse, a subtle change began to stir the stillness. A gentle tug, imperceptible at first, beckoned the soul toward a distant point in the void. It was as if the very fabric of nothingness held a secret, a concealed passage waiting to be discovered.
Guided by an inexplicable intuition, the soul moved with purpose toward the source of this new-found attraction. Its essence surged with a sense of anticipation, an otherworldly curiosity driving it forward. The colours around it shifted and swirled, forming a pathway that seemed to materialize out of the very essence of the void.
As the soul traversed this path, the emptiness began to transform. Whispers of sensation returned – a faint touch of warmth, the distant murmur of a melody, a fleeting glimpse of distant horizons. The void, once all-encompassing, was gradually giving way to the faintest traces of something beyond itself.
"Capture the souls!" The chilling command rang out, slicing through the air like a blade of ice.
Yuvan's soul emerged from the ethereal path, greeted not by gentle silence but by the agonizing cry of a collective wail. An invisible, malevolent force ensnared him alongside a multitude of hapless souls, a twisted gathering destined for an enigmatic fate. Pulled by the unforgiving tide, they were drawn towards a mysterious formation, a shape of unknown purpose and ominous design.
The once-distant melody, now revealed, wasn't a soothing serenade but a dirge of impending doom. The souls that had entered before Yuvan met a grisly end. Their essence was cruelly extracted, leaving behind nothing but dissipating wisps of smoke. The very air seemed to shiver with the weight of their vanishing existence.
As Yuvan's own essence was mercilessly drained by the formation, a sudden shift in the heavens themselves disrupted the sinister tableau. A distant rumble, akin to the wrathful growl of celestial thunder, reverberated through the valley. The very cosmos seemed to stir as if a divine reckoning was imminent.
Beneath the weight of this ominous portent, the Asuras – the commanders of this unholy enterprise – raised their eyes to the heavens, their hearts gripped by a swift foreboding. Fear swept across their ranks like wildfire, eroding the bravado that had bolstered them moments ago.
"Prepare for the heavenly tribulation!" Their commanders' voices shattered the eerie stillness, a battle cry infused with equal parts desperation and resolve. The impending reckoning was unmistakable, a cascade of divine retribution set to descend upon them. In the face of impending doom, they rallied themselves to face the unfathomable forces they had dared to disturb.
From the heart of the tempest, lightning flickered like the wrath of the gods themselves, jagged tendrils lancing out from the roiling heavens. Thunder followed in its wake, a deafening roar that reverberated through the very earth, resonating with the primal fears of all who bore witness. Each flash of light revealed a nightmarish tableau: an evil army, an amalgamation of darkness and despair, arrayed in sinister ranks before an ancient and foreboding formation.
“Defend the formation!”
The formation, a relic of forgotten times, exuded an aura of malefic power, its contours twisted and contorted like the gnarled fingers of a spectral hand reaching upwards from the bowels of the earth. An otherworldly energy pulsed from its core, a siren call that had drawn the forces of darkness to its side. They stood resolute, a legion of malevolent beings, their armour adorned with symbols of cruelty and malice, their eyes gleaming with a hunger for dominion.
But as the evil Asuras braced themselves, the heavens seemed to rebel, in a blinding flash, the skies tore asunder. Lightning, a jagged lance of white-hot brilliance, slashed across the sky, illuminating the landscape with an eerie radiance. Breaking through the defensive barriers and striking the formation. With each successive bolt, the air crackled with reminiscence of divine energy.
As the onslaught continued, cracks began to spider-web through the formation's stony façade. Its once-imposing spires crumbled, reduced to rubble under the relentless barrage. The evil army fought back with desperate fervour, their weapons and spells clashing against the relentless onslaught of thunder and lightning.
But the storm would not be denied. Lightning bolts found their marks with unerring precision, striking down champions of darkness and shattering the malevolent spells woven by the enemy's sorcerers. Thunder rumbled like a battle cry, drowning out the cries of the Asuras and drowning them in a cacophony of nature's fury. The malevolent army's resistance faltered, their ranks scattering like leaves before a gale. Giving a chance for Yuvan and others to slip through.
And then, as suddenly as it had begun, the storm began to recede. The thunder rumbled with a final, authoritative growl— a warning for the mortals.
Deep into the earth’s trench there stood a desolate fortress. In the heart of the fortress, the air was thick with malevolence, tainted by the sinister aura that clung to every stone and shadow. The walls seemed to seethe with dark energy as if the very architecture itself were a manifestation of the twisted forces that governed this accursed realm. At the centre of the chamber, a grotesque throne stood, its jagged edges and twisted spires a testament to the depths of depravity that had taken root.
Upon the throne, a figure languished, his form shrouded in tattered robes that bore the marks of his malevolent endeavours. He was the lord of this nightmarish domain, a being whose very existence was sustained by a forbidden and profane technique. His flesh was pallid and withered, a stark contrast to the burning intensity of his eyes that seemed to glow with an unnatural light. Tubes and tendrils protruded from his withered form, merging with arcane machinery that pulsated with a sinister rhythm, channelling the stolen life force that sustained his wretched existence.
Before the throne, a demonic General knelt, his form imposing and fearsome. His armour was wrought from the blackest steel, etched with runes that whispered of unspeakable bargains made in the darkness. His eyes glowed with a malevolent fire, mirroring the searing intensity of his lord's gaze. With a bow that exuded reverence and fear in equal measure, he began to recount the infernal machinations that had unfolded since their last meeting.
"Master," the General's voice was a gravelly symphony of cruelty and obeisance. "Our legions have suffered a terrible loss, half of them are either incapacitated or dead. The formation itself has collapsed and mages controlling it perished and a few souls escaped during the mayhem."
The lord's skeletal fingers twitched, a gesture that conveyed a hint of annoyance, “hmm! Anticipated! Yet..” he rasped through a voice that had been eroded by time and malevolent power, “Mobilize our people, it’s time to complete the Ragnarok Connection and kill the otherworldly parasites we must not let them take root in our world.”
Keep it discreet, we should give out any hint to the righteous faction.
Already on it sire.