The fight began, yet for a brief moment, no one moved. The air itself seemed frozen, heavy with anticipation. Trail's eyes flickered, catching the reflection of his sword as it shimmered faintly, responding to his grip. Beside him, Luxorious stood calm, his daggers humming softly, carrying raw energy that distorted the space around them. Sparks crackled faintly in the air, as if the battlefield itself was holding its breath.
"So," Luxorious spoke, breaking the silence, his voice bold and steady, "what's the plan now, Trail?"
Trail didn't look at him immediately. His eyes remained locked forward, calculating. "It's simple," he replied. "I'll take on Grover… while you finish the rest."
Luxorious never smiled. He never needed to. When it came to his power, no one could truly stop him. Still, Trail raised a hand slightly, stopping him for a moment.
"But wait," Trail said. "We don't know if they're being real or not. Aside from Grover… they may be under the control of the darkness."
Before Luxorious could reply, Eagle moved.
The elite commander charged first, sword raised, his intent clear. But in an instant, his vision twisted violently. The ground rotated beneath him, and before he could react, his body slammed into the earth, embedded deep into the stone. Luxorious showed no mercy. One slash, then another. Boom. His daggers carved through the air, creating insane damage across the battlefield. Sparks flew. Flames burst outward. The shockwaves cracked the ground beneath their feet.
Eight commanders charged together, leaping with coordinated precision. Luxorious didn't retreat. He struck once — a single, overwhelming motion — and all eight were knocked away at the same time, bodies colliding mid-air before crashing into the ruins.
Then Steel stepped forward.
His armor was massive, layered like dragon skin, each plate thick and reinforced. His footsteps shook the ground as he advanced. Their weapons clashed, metal screaming against metal. Steel swung with immense force, but Luxorious dodged effortlessly, his movements sharp and controlled.
"The movements are good enough," Luxorious said calmly, "but with that heavy armor… you're missing one thing."
BOOM.
The ground trembled violently as a bolt of lightning struck Steel directly. The force lifted him into the air, sending him flying at least three hundred feet away from the battlefield. His armored body vanished into the dust and debris as he crashed somewhere beyond sight.
While Luxorious handled the elites, something far more brutal was unfolding between Trail and Grover.
Their swords clashed relentlessly. Steel met steel, sparks bursting with every strike. The sand around them stormed violently, pulled into the chaos of their power. Each movement carved lines into the ground, each impact echoing like thunder.
Grover pushed forward, his sword grinding against Trail's. "I have to admit," he said, straining, "you are powerful for sure… Trail Smith."
Trail didn't answer.
Instead, he continued dodging — deliberately. He wasn't fighting seriously. His movements were measured, controlled, as if he were waiting for something. Why was he holding back? Was this connected to the mass murders? Trail was never reckless. He was someone who thought, adapted, and analyzed before unleashing power.
If he really is what I think… Trail's thoughts raced. Then maybe… we can't do anything at all.
Grover charged again, pulling Trail out of his thoughts. His sword thrust forward, aimed straight at Trail's chest. But the blade disintegrated into dust the moment it touched him. Trail spun instantly, driving a kick into Grover's gut with brutal force. Grover flew backward, crashing into the ground, knocked out cold.
Elsewhere, Luxorious continued moving through the battlefield. He dodged effortlessly, closing distance in a blur. A low kick. A sharp elbow. A crushing punch to the face. One by one, the remaining commanders fell. Bodies hit the ground, motionless. Silence slowly crept back in.
But something felt wrong.
When Luxorious returned to Trail, the battlefield looked settled — yet the air felt heavier.
"They were all under control," Trail said quietly. "We can't do much anymore. Let's head back… let this city burn now."
"No," Luxorious interrupted sharply. "We can't go yet. Look."
One by one, the fallen bodies began to move.
They stood up.
Every single one of them.
Without hesitation, they attacked again, relentless, not giving even a second to breathe. The weather shifted unnaturally. Dark clouds gathered overhead. Mist rolled across the ground. Wind howled through the ruins. Dust filled the air. Silence returned — not peace, but something worse.
"They're getting better and better," Luxorious said while dodging attacks. "If we can't kill them… they'll never die."
Trail faced Grover again as he rose. But this time, something caught Trail's eye — a symbol etched into Grover's shoulder. Trail stepped back.
Boom.
Their swords rattled violently. Metal clashed as Trail shifted his grip and struck precisely, slicing through the symbol. Grover screamed, panic flooding his face as he collapsed again.
"So it really was the darkness," Trail muttered.
"Luxorious," Trail called out. "Remove the skin from their shoulders. Remove the sign."
Luxorious nodded once.
A massive circle of energy appeared beneath them, expanding rapidly. The air grew heavy, dense, crushing. A powerful force surged outward, tearing away every trace of the symbols, ripping the darkness from their bodies. One by one, the signs vanished into nothing. Every controlled soldier collapsed, unconscious. Luxorious's eyes glimmered faintly as the energy faded.
They had saved them.
Trail walked toward Grover, kneeling beside him. He checked for breathing.
Nothing.
Only Grover was dead.
No one else had died.
Trail stood up slowly, stunned.
He turned toward Luxorious — and suddenly, a slash came from behind.
Luxorious reacted instantly, blocking the strike. Something rose from Grover's body — not flesh, not blood, but something else. A presence. A soul-like entity twisted and distorted, floating unnaturally.
The voice spoke, proud and venomous. "Look at you… completely exhausted. How stupid. You deserved to die."
It turned toward Trail. Their eyes met.
The presence smiled.
Then it vanished, carried away by the wind, swallowed by the abyss.
Bodies surrounded them, unconscious, breathing — all alive.
Except Grover.
Trail lifted his gaze toward the sky. Black clouds churned overhead. He closed his eyes. "I feel… tired."
Rain began to fall. Drop by drop. Then heavier. Soaking the battlefield, washing bloodless dust from the ground.
Luxorious glanced at him. "Are you going to speak," he said dryly, "or just stare at the sky and soak yourself in the rain?"
Trail exhaled slowly. "I don't have the words yet," he replied. "Let me think of them."