Najeem shaded his vision with his hand as he stared down the hill he was standing atop, along with his comrades and the Legions of Koini.

A black wave of lamellar and leather capped enemies stood waiting at the bottom, waving the banners of the Gongsun Dynasty.

This was the first time he’d seen a field battle in a long time. While normally trained for stealth, Asasiyun were more than adept in field combat as well.

Still, the small Targe shield strapped to his left arm didn’t feel right. But if he relied solely on dodging, he’d throw himself into the spear of some unseen enemy.

Seang stood near him, armed with a Jambudvipi halberd. On the other side of him was Vai, who held a stylized, almost sword-like cudgel.

They were considered in the same class as the army’s cataphracts, who were led by Gustave and Orhan. They disrupted the enemy ranks and allow the legions to penetrate their formations.

From the position the army was in, the enemy should’ve only been able to see him and his allies.

A young prince stood at the head of the enemy. The Westerners had told him the prince’s name: Gongsun Guanyu. They all thought it odd that the 17th prince would lead this army seemingly alone, with minimal Bane Knights. The Twelve were noticeably missing.

It didn’t matter, though. That was a problem for the tacticians to puzzle out. His primary worry should be on the fight at hand.

Then the horns blared.

It was time.

According to Ruhak, the enemy had positioned their anti-cavalry spearmen up front. It was him and the other Companies who had to soften them for the cataphracts.

Najeem drew his scimitar from his hip and sprinted down the hill alongside his allies. Arrow fire provided cover from crossbowmen on the enemy's side.

Lokapele, a ways off, was the first to attack with a giant chunk of magma.

Seang unleashed blasts of golden energy while Vai created four extra limbs made of water that each drew their own clubs and shark-tooth-lined blades from his back.

Najeem sank into the shadows.

After uttering the first of his mantras, Najeem had gained supernatural speed while in the shadow world, allowing him to almost teleport between shadows if the distance wasn’t too long.

His focus intensified like never before as he meticulously planned every move, every entry into and exit from the shadows. He was practically blind to the attacks he was dealing, so long as they hit flesh.

He solely occupied his mind with causing chaos with his sudden appearances.

Sink in, jump out, strike twice, sink in, reappear, cut to the nape.

As the battle went on, Najeem started pulling enemy soldiers into the shadows with him, killing them there rather than in the real world.

When Najeem rose from the shadows for what had to be the thousandth time, another horn sounded. The cataphracts were charging.

Najeem backed away as armored horses galloped past and smashed into the broken ranks of spearmen.

The moment he thought he’d gotten a break, Ruhak rode past him on horseback. “Bane Knights on the left flank! Let’s move!”

That’s right. This was a war. There was no silence after a kill. Just more work to be done.

Najeem followed Ricco, Sila, and Shahla as they ran to the left.

The scale armor under his robes was feeling heavy. He grabbed a waterskin on his belt and allowed himself a sip of lukewarm hydration.

While the army only had minimal Bane Knights, the word minimal translated to about one hundred in this case. The entire Koini army had twenty Bane Knights of their own. Still, thirty-four on one hundred when fourteen of those thirty-four were Shedim masters weren’t the worst odds in the world.

Especially with the fruits of their training.

“She who shatters twilight and brings about the light of day! Bond with my steel and be the hand that carves my path!” Seang shouted as she ran towards the charging ranks of Bane Knights.

Her halberd shined with golden light, becoming a far more stylized and seemingly heavier version of the weapon, but the nun wielded it as though it were a light as air.

“He who shows the lost the way through the dark.” Najeem muttered, “Bond with my steel and be the hand that carves my path.”

Steel infused its power into Najeem’s scimitar, Blademerging itself. His Shedim wrapped his sword in shadowy tendrils. His blade grew in size, becoming more like a thing used in ritual rather than a weapon. His shield underwent a similar transformation as his hands turned as black as Plague Scars. Black smoke streamed off his weapons as he charged at the Bane Knights.

Blademerging slowed down the consumption of his stamina and focus, while also magically enhancing his weapons.

Najeem slammed his shield into the first Bane Knight he made contact with as the Companies broke up their ranks.

The Asasiyun’s world became a whirlwind of steel clashing against steel and blades plunging through flesh. The screeching of Shedim filled his ears, trapped in the weapons wielded by Bane Knights on all sides, surpassed only by the thumping of his heart in his head.

He’d forgotten that the battlefield was not a place where one came to show their prowess. Winning a bout on the field was all about grit.

His mastery over swordplay was almost useless here. The armor the Bane Knights wore was only pierced by his blade because of Shedemic enhancement. More often than not, he found himself on the ground, grappling, biting, or doing whatever it took to put the steel on his blade into his opponent’s body.

His training in assassination, the lessons deepest at his core, was what he relied on. Where to strike an armored opponent to cripple them for life. Where to stab to kill instantly. How to snap a neck.

Sometimes, Bane Knights would gang up on Najeem and sometimes he would help someone on his side gang up on an enemy Bane Knight.

There was no glory to it, like the stories always insisted. But that didn’t make the slaughter any less meaningful. He had to fight. Not just for the people he cared about, but also for himself. He refused to kneel for the absurd expectations that tyranny levied against its people.

Najeem finished another Bane Knight before he was kicked in the side and forced to the ground. He scrambled to his feet and found himself face to face with Gongsun Guanyu.

The prince was armored from head to toe and burned into Najeem with his glare of hatred.

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

“Where is she?” he demanded. “Where’s Taya Sergeyev?”

“Doing something more important than fighting you.” Najeem muttered.

Guanyu glanced to the right as Sila rushed at him, then tossed her aside like a rag doll. “You mock me by thinking you’re a match for me.”

Kameko walked up beside Najeem, kicking her glaive into a fighting position. Red silk billowed out from her lamellar armor as she shouted, “She who swears a sacred oath, to be kept for a thousand years and more! Bond with my steel and become the hand that carves my path!”

Her weapon exploded into a cyclone of flames, adorning itself in its Blademerged form.

Ricco came up on the other side, a poleaxe in his hands, “He who travels the world in a single step, whispering to the gods! Bond with my steel and become the hand that carves my path!” Ricco’s poleaxe shifted into a much longer, more wicked-looking weapon that glowed with green and violet energy.

Guanyu’s eyes flared green as the ghostly images of six green women appeared around him. When they vanished as suddenly as they appeared, Guanyu vanished with them.

“What the-” Ricco started before an invisible force slammed into his brigandine and forced him backward.

The prince was invisible.

Najeem held his shield in front of him and backed away as Kameko unleashed arcs of fire from her weapon.

Najeem saw the glint of metal in the middle of the air and rushed at it. He slammed into the prince’s invisible body, dismissing his magic. The prince socked Najeem in the jaw with a metal gauntlet, causing vertigo to explode across his vision.

Kameko rushed at the prince as he stood. They clashed, glaive on glaive. Kameko’s orange flames pushed against the pale green flames that came from Guanyu.

Ricco charged at Guanyu, but the prince knocked away the spearpoint of his weapon and brought him to the ground with one swift motion of his glaive’s pommel.

Guanyu knocked Kameko’s weapon away and slammed the glaive into the side of her head. By a stroke of luck, the angle was off just enough to glance off her skull rather than killing her. Still, Kameko dropped, blood smearing her temple.

Najeem pushed himself up in tandem with Ricco and rushed at Guanyu.

The prince thrust his blade at the Asasiyun, but the glaive ground against Najeem’s targe. Before he could strike the prince, the pommel of the weapon swung around and cracked against his undefended side. Najeem staggered back as Guanyu pinned the head of Ricco’s weapon down with his glaive.

Ricco grabbed the back of the prince’s neck and slammed the shaft of his poleaxe into his head. Ricco pulled the weapon out from under the glaive and smashed the hammerhead of the weapon into Guanyu’s lamellar.

While Ricco was occupying Guanyu, Najeem helped Kameko up.

“You alright?”

Kameko nodded, then cracked her neck. “If I die, look for another bird and set it on fire. I’ll be back in no time.”

Najeem nodded. He rushed to help Ricco, who was now on the back foot of a flurry of attacks by Guanyu.

The prince pushed Ricco back to turn his focus to Najeem. He guided Guanyu’s glaive strikes away from him by intercepting them with his shield before smashing Guanyu’s helmet with the pommel of his blade and slashed at his leg.

Guanyu dropped to one knee as Najeem went for a lethal blow. But the prince swept Najeem’s legs out from under him and slammed the pommel of his glaive into Najeem’s chest cavity. Pain exploded through his entire torso as the weapon ripped coughs from his lungs.

Kameko rushed in, saving Najeem from what looked to be another painful blow, the two blades of their weapons testing each other.

Najeem rolled over and pushed himself to his feet with a lot of effort. Breathing sent spikes of pain through him, like a million needles stabbing his lungs from the inside.

Both Kameko and Ricco were looking weary, while the prince seemed just as quick and energetic as he’d been before the fight.

Then the horn sounded. The signal to initiate the false retreat. It wouldn’t be much of a break, but it was the best Najeem could ask for.

Kameko cracked her pommel into Guanyu’s forehead, causing the prince to squeeze his eyes shut and stumble before she and Ricco ran.

Najeem ran with them.

Though it was supposed to be a false retreat, Najeem couldn’t help but feel as though he had actually been defeated.

No. That was just his hurt pride. He could see that now. He did his job. He fought his hardest. There was no shame in retreat.

For the first time, despite his weary muscles, his aching chest and his spinning head, he felt as though the world were crystal clear around him.

________________________________________________________________________

Taya woke up as a child.

Her eyes didn’t open, as they had been open, drying out for...well, who knows how long?

She collapsed when she couldn’t keep running. She still had the energy, but something else stopped her.

Seriously, how long had it been?

Two days?

She stared up at the canopy of the Sklaveni forest, the sunlight coming dim through the greenery.

She was thirsty. So incredibly thirsty. She would probably die if she didn’t look for water.

What’s the point?

She still felt splinters in her palms from the hundreds of pounds of wood she lifted to save her mother. They were a burning reminder she was no longer welcome at her home.

And without that, what did she really have?

Her muscles twisted with painful cramps from a mixture of dehydration and overexertion from running so long.

Events blurred together in her head. It took all the effort she had left to keep them in line.

What’s the point?

Taya let her memories be muddled with each other. Chronology was lost upon her. Only dizziness and confusion had a place in her mind now.

Wouldn’t it be nice if she just...passed on? Went to sleep and never woke up? There was nothing for her in this world now. It would do her family a favor if she just let go. All their troubles were because of her. Because of the wretched demon that lived in those black marks.

And when she died, she would no longer feel pain. The pain in her muscles and the pain in her heat would be gone. In fact, she preferred the fate that the Druids tried to scare everyone with: nothingness.

She didn’t want an afterlife. If she simply ceased existing, she would be okay. No more hiding. No more hurt. No more disappointment.

So why wouldn’t she just close her eyes and let death take her?

It wasn’t as though she hadn’t tried to coexist with the witch. She’d looked for light but found only darkness. She ventured for sunlight, but was overshadowed by the canopy of this...this curse. The moment it infected her, she would fall. There was no other way about it. It was the curse’s actions, not her’s, that destroyed what could’ve been a decent life.

Justice would never come to her. Salvation was a childish dream.

Why? Why couldn’t she get the urge out of her mind to live?

Why couldn’t she just be numb?

Because that isn’t how humans work.

It wasn’t her own voice that spoke to her, yet it was within her head. It was the witch.

If you want to be numb, very well. But that will not stop the suffering. To suffer searching meaning as you have is better than to being numb. In numbness, you will suffer even greater, torn apart by what you’ve let go to waste.

It wasn’t worth it. And besides, she would only spend a few more hours suffering. It would all stop after that.

You want to die a slave? You want to live what remains of your life spurred on only by the whip of suffering and the carrot of numbness?

Yes, actually. What’s wrong with that?

Why? There is so much more! Every man has the power to be invulnerable to the whip. And the reward will not be the absence of suffering, but the presence of happiness!

It was easier said than done.

Nothing worth doing has ever been easy. But what toil you suffer need not be suffering. The pursuit of happiness is not a chore. It is not labor. It is a challenge. A challenge asking you, pleading for you, to meet it. Take it, Taya, and you will earn your right to claim happiness from this world of cruelty.

Taya had tried before. She had failed spectacularly.

Because you sought happiness in lies. You wished to prevent rather than act. Once again, you equated your claim in life to a lack of suffering. But this world is cruel! It is hard! You will never stop suffering and fighting so long as you exist.

Was that supposed to make her want to live?

The difference between suffering and fighting is that a fight is brought upon willingly. Despair forced suffering upon you. The world and the gods of it want humans to be subservient. They try to push you down with natural disasters, famines, lies, shame, fear, and wars. But as big as the enemy may seem, it is not invincible.

And Taya was supposed to do that? The witch could muse all she wanted. Fate couldn’t be defeated.

Fate cannot be destroyed. But are you going to let it steal your life from you? Who’s life is it then? Yours? Or God’s?

Did it matter?

Once you give away your life, you give away your will and your control. You fear the responsibility you have to yourself to live your life, so you give up all you might gain from it to once again make the best you can hope for an absence of suffering. Stop being a coward! Humans are warriors! To deny that makes you a pathetic, shriveled excuse for a life form!

Shut up, she thought. What the hell did this witch know about humans?

What are you going to do about it? Are you going to prove me wrong? Do it then! Or will you stay a coward? You can’t even stand! Go ahead and lie there, more pitiful than a worm as you die with nothing and nobody.

That’s not...She wasn’t…

You wanna be something? Too bad. So long as you can’t stand, speak or even think right, you can do nothing. You’ve given up control of your fate. So do nothing like the puppet you’ve become.

“Fuck you!” Taya’s voice came out as little more than a scratching rasp. But her body boomed with power.

What was that? I couldn’t hear you, coward!

“Fuck you!” Taya screamed again. “I’m not a puppet!”

Really? Why don’t you prove that to me, rag doll?

“FUCK YOU!” Taya felt the icy sensation of her power fill her body with renewed vigor. Just enough to roll over and pound her fist into the ground as she staggered to her feet, “YOU DON’T GET TO SAY WHAT I AM! THIS IS MY LIFE AND MY DEATH! AND NO ONE IS GOING TO DEFINE IT FOR ME! SO FUCK OFF!”

Justice will never come. So use your own justice. Salvation will never save you. So save yourself. Take your life back from the divinity of fate and become human once again. Peace will never come to you. So revel in the pain. Feel the love, faith and dedication humanity has to offer. And weather the sorrow, despair, and grief the world makes you pay for it.

There was so much to do. So much to live for. With only hours left, what would she do?

She would live. She would fight.

Taya screamed at the heavens, voice full of fury as though she’d never been on the verge of death. She would rage until her fire burned out. And even after that, she would come to the abyss of death, lighting it with her fury. The gods would flinch at her touch and her destiny would work for her.

The world would not dominate her.

She would never be a slave again.