Neil forced himself to start moving, cutting down any beasts that dared to stand in his path. Smoke rose from the burning corpses of the creatures, stinging his eyes. He looked up at the darkening sky. "It's nighttime," he muttered. "Time for a moment's rest before I continue inspecting the area."

He walked towards his horse, Kentio, a magnificent white stallion whose coat matched Neil's silver hair. Kentio's intelligent, black eyes reflected the night sky. The horse n whinnied softly as Neil approached, nodding his head in greeting. Neil swung himself onto Kentio's back and they set off towards the main army camp.

After twenty minutes of travel, Neil reined in his horse. A putrid stench filled the air, emanating from a pile of nearby corpses. A chunk of flesh splattered near him, making him jump down to investigate. "This is human flesh," he said, his voice grim. He looked up at the sky, searching for the source of the grisly remains. His heart sank as he saw thousands of vultures circling overhead.

Following the movement of the vultures, Neil dismounted and began to walk. With each step, the stench grew stronger. After a few minutes, he stumbled upon a horrifying scene: Hundreds of corpses were piled on top of each other, a gruesome tapestry of flesh and blood created by the vultures. The air crackled with a dark energy.

Neil cautiously approached one of the bodies. The man's face was badly disfigured, most of the flesh eaten away. A lone vulture continued to feed on the corpse. Neil searched for any way to identify the soldier. He noticed a faint, almost black tinge to the man's blood. "Perhaps a Neothaliyan soldier," he murmured, looking around. "The Acronyian army wasn't here. Who did this?"

He searched the area for several minutes, confirming that all the bodies were Neothaliyan soldiers. No other corpses were found. Confused and disturbed, he muttered, "What happened here?"

His gaze fell on the mangled bodies, their faces unrecognizable even to their own kin. Neil clenched his fists in anger. "They are pure evil, not caring even for their own men," he growled. He looked down at the fallen soldiers. "I cannot help you right now, but on my way back, I will bury your bodies for this world."

Neil rode for another forty minutes, the horrific scene following him like a nightmare. Finally, he reached the army camp. He quickly hid his horse at a distance. "Please be safe, Kentio," he whispered. "I will return after a while. If I am captured, return to the Acronyian army."

Moving cautiously on foot, Neil reached the main entrance of the camp within twenty minutes. He infiltrated the camp undetected and spent an hour observing the enemy. By estimating the amount of food and supplies used, he was able to gauge the size of the army.

To confirm his suspicions, he entered the armory. He didn't waste time admiring the weapons, quickly moving towards a corner. Before he could explore further, he sensed danger and bolted.

Two soldiers flanked a large, imposing man carrying a long sword. The man suddenly stopped. "He's here!" he roared. "Get everyone ready for battle!"

Neil sprinted towards his horse, whistling for Kentio. The loyal stallion came charging, and Neil leaped onto his back in one swift motion. Unfortunately, due to their position, Neil faced the enemy while Kentio faced away. Understanding the urgency of the situation, Kentio propelled himself forward at full speed.

As Neil faced the enemy, he saw them aiming flaming arrows at him. Each archer was accompanied by a soldier holding a vial of oil. The soldiers were recklessly splashing the oil onto the arrows, creating a terrifying spectacle. Neil recognized the glowing red metal of the arrowheads – they were scorching hot. The archers struggled to hold the burning arrows, sweat dripping from their brows.

"Now!" bellowed the Neothaliyan commander.

The soldiers released their flaming arrows in a deadly volley. Neil drew his sword, deflecting the fiery projectiles with practiced skill.

"Side!" the Neothaliyan commander barked at his soldiers, clearing a path for their leader. One soldier presented a spare spear. The commander dipped the spearhead into the oil, his eyes gleaming with a cruel satisfaction.

"Ignite it," he commanded.

A soldier used a torch to light the spear, transforming it into a monstrous flaming weapon. The commander aimed it at Neil with a sadistic grin.

Neil, evaluating his options in a split second, realized he wouldn't have enough time to change direction. "Using flames would create a blast, hurting both of us," he thought. "If only I had more time..."

With a surge of determination, he gripped his sword tighter. As the flaming spear hurtled towards him, he met it head-on with his blade. The impact was brutal. The force dragged Kentio back several meters, but Neil managed to deflect the spear slightly, just enough.

The flames singed Neil's mask as the spear struck the ground, its power spent. The impact sent a shockwave through the earth, causing both Neil and the soldiers to lose their footing. Neil wrestled to control Kentio, who reared in fright. Debris rained down from the resulting explosion, but Neil, with his honed reflexes, guided Kentio through the falling rocks, dodging most of them while deflecting the rest with his sword.

The Neothaliyan commander, recovering from the shock, bellowed orders. "Soldiers, capture him! Scouts, track him down! He can't have escaped for long. Find his soldiers, they must be nearby!"

Meanwhile, the commander rushed towards a secluded area of the camp. "Sir," he announced, his voice trembling with urgency, "He was here. Neil is back."

A figure emerged from the shadows, a chilling presence. He wielded a wicked-looking scythe, its blade pitch black. A single, jagged scar ran across his left eye, partially obscuring it. He erupted into a chilling laugh, the sound of a madman.

"I will have my revenge, Neil," he cackled. "For this scar, for your friends, your family, everyone you know and love… they will all die by my hand!"

A dark memory flickered in his mind, and his laughter intensified, turning into a psychotic rant. "Didn't it take one of your family members 23 years ago?" he shrieked. "One by one, they will all be here! Prepare the army! You are in charge, and you better not disappoint me!" He glared into the commander's terrified eyes.

"Is that clear?" he boomed.

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The commander, utterly petrified, stammered, "Y-yes, sir."

The figure with the scythe retreated back into the shadows, leaving the commander to sweat and tremble.

Meanwhile.....

Neil, having evaded capture, reached a desolate area. He looked back at the smoldering battlefield, a grim determination hardening his gaze. "Just a bit longer," he muttered through gritted teeth. "Hold on, just a bit longer."

His escape had taken longer than expected due to the relentless pursuit of the enemy soldiers. He had used the chase to his advantage, eliminating several of them along the way. Now, with only one soldier remaining on his tail, Neil saw his chance.

"Finally free of them," he sighed, glancing back at his lone pursuer.

After another thirty to forty minutes of hard riding, Neil reached his own camp. The army had fully recovered from their journey.

"Food is ready, sir," announced a relieved-looking officer.

"Good," Neil replied. "Feed the soldiers first." He then moved towards his tent, instructing a guard to remain on high alert for any sign of approaching enemies.

Exhausted, Neil collapsed onto his cot after a brief but satisfying meal. Just as he began to drift off to sleep, a voice intruded into his mind, a voice he'd heard before.

"Find that sword... FIND THAT SWORD!" The voice echoed in Neil's head, sharp and piercing. He jolted awake, clutching his head as a throbbing pain intensified. "Why? Why this voice again? What is it?" he cried out, bewildered and frustrated by the recurring torment.

The pounding in his head worsened with each passing moment. Suddenly, a concerned voice broke through the haze.

"Commander! Commander, are you alright?" Deniyour, the camp's chemist, rushed to Neil's side and helped him lie back down. He then barked an order to the guards to summon another senior member of his staff.

Within minutes, another figure appeared. "Sir, this has started again," Deniyour explained to the newcomer, a seasoned physician.

The physician examined Neil thoroughly, his brow furrowing in concentration. "As I told you before," he finally sighed, "there's no cure for this condition. However, your special food may slow the process. This medicine, though," he continued, holding out a pouch, "will at least ease his suffering for now. Apply it gently to his forehead. It should relax his mind, and hopefully, he'll wake up feeling refreshed. Remember, neither my medicine nor your food can cure him; they can only slow the progression."

Just as the physician turned to leave, Neil, struggling to open his eyes, managed to croak out, "Chemist Amierto, thank you for always helping me."

Amierto's smile faltered for a moment, a flicker of sadness crossing his features. "Just doing my job, and you do yours, Neil," he replied with a forced cheer and walked out of the tent.

Tears welled up in Amierto's eyes as he reached a secluded corner of the camp. Leaning against a tree, he allowed his emotions to flow freely, muffling his sobs with a clenched fist. "I'm so sorry, Neil," he choked out. "If only I had more knowledge, I might be able to find a solution for you… if only…"

He wiped away his tears, his resolve hardening. "Giving up isn't an option," he muttered fiercely. "There must be another way. I just need to gather more information."

Returning to his tent, Amierto began packing his supplies. He then addressed his most skilled student, Rentio. "Rentio," he began with a heavy heart, "today might be the last time we speak. I've taught you everything I know, and there's nothing left to offer. You've perfected your skills during these past fifteen days. Nothing can prevent you from becoming a great chemist, and…" He paused, his gaze searching the room before settling on a young man. "Some of your skills even surpass mine, making me wonder if I was ever good enough to be your teacher."

Rentio's face flushed with emotion. "You are the best teacher, Commander! We can't even imagine what we would have become if we hadn't met you!"

"Alright, back to the topic," Amierto continued, his voice cracking slightly. "Rentio, you're the most skilled of all my students, and most importantly, you're well aware of Neil's condition. While I'm gone, please take care of him for me."

Rentio placed a hand over his heart, his voice filled with determination. "Teacher, Commander Neil and you are both the most precious people to me. If it weren't for him, we wouldn't even be here. I swear on my gods and on the knowledge I possess that I will do everything in my power to help the Commander, no matter the cost. Even if it takes my life, so be it!"

Amierto, his heart swelling with pride, muttered under his breath, "He wouldn't allow anything to happen to you, Neil. That's for sure." He took a deep breath and gathered his students around him.

"I apologize," he began, his voice thick with emotion. "I've become too attached to you all, and I haven't made you full-fledged chemists yet. I'm truly sorry."

Despite the apology, a glint of pride shone in his eyes as he reached into his bag and pulled out a scroll for each student. "From this day forward, you are all full-fledged chemists," he declared with a hint of satisfaction.

He then handed each student a bag. "I know this isn't much," he said, "but it should help you on your journey."

One of the students, Velieuo, peeked inside and gasped. The bag was filled with hundreds of silver coins, ten gold coins, and several hundred copper coins. There were also various herbs, medicines, and a single platinum coin gleaming amongst the other items.

Velieuo's eyes widened in shock, and his voice choked with emotion. "Teacher, we don't want this!" he stammered, shoving the bag back towards Amierto. "Please don't leave, teacher. If it's that important, take us with you!"

Amierto remained firm, gently refusing the bag. "I can't take you with me. It'll be a dangerous mission, and..." His voice trailed off, his eyes welling up again. "I want you all to choose your own paths after this war is over. Please go and explore this world with your own eyes."

He then turned to Velieuo, attempting to lighten the mood. "Don't even think about selling that platinum coin, Velieuo," he said with a playful smile. "It's not just any coin. It has a Royal symbol, a mark of your identity. Never give it to anyone. If it falls into the wrong hands, they could gain access to any location in Acronyia. And if the enemy gets hold of it, it could be a disaster worse than this war."

A collective gasp filled the tent. The students exchanged solemn glances, the weight of Amierto's words settling upon them.

"We will never let it fall into enemy hands," one of them declared with unwavering determination. "Even if it costs us our lives, we'll make sure the Commander is safe."

Amierto chuckled, a hint of his usual cheer returning. "You're all so dramatic! You just repeated what I said word for word." A faint blush crept onto their faces as they realized their near-identical declarations.

Amierto took a moment to explain the significance of the Royal symbol on the coin. With a final goodbye, he exited the tent, leaving his students with a heavy hearts but a renewed sense of purpose.

Meanwhile, within the Neothaliyan camp, a soldier discreetly opened a small, golden, circular box. Glancing around furtively to ensure he was alone, he pricked his finger with a needle and let a single drop of blood fall onto the base of the box. As soon as the blood touched the metal, the box glowed with an intense golden light.

"Yes," the soldier hissed in satisfaction, "it's working." He leaned closer, his voice barely a whisper. "Commander, it is confirmed again. Commander Neil cannot fight."

**In another part of the battlefield…**

"Neothaliyans, stop right there!" boomed a voice. "Will he join the fight?" one of the soldiers inquired anxiously.

"Yes," the commander replied, "if we're unable to handle the enemy forces, he will come for sure." He lowered his voice and spoke into the soldier's ear, "But for your own sake, you better not address him so casually."

The soldier gulped, his face pale with fear. "Y-yes, commander. I won't repeat it."

The commander surveyed the landscape. "This valley… what do they call it again? Ah, yes, King's Valley. A fitting place for the Neothaliyans, a land shrouded in dark energy." He issued a command to his soldiers. "Have they arrived yet?"

"No, commander," a soldier quickly responded. "There's no sign of the enemy."

"Two hours remain," the commander muttered, his gaze fixed on the high ground flanking the path. "Whatever you're planning, Neil, we're ready for it."

On one side, Neil is weakened and unprepared for battle. On the other, the enemy awaits, armed and fueled by a sinister agenda. The mysterious voice continues to torment Neil, but its purpose remains unclear. As the two armies prepare to clash in King's Valley, the fate of the war hangs in the balance.