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Chapter 4 - Crimson Night

The night Asmanda burned in war would later be known as the "Crimson Night."

The sky was covered with dark gray clouds. The wind blew cold from the north, howling like a warning of the coming storm. It had been two weeks since the messenger left. Neva had waited two weeks to regroup, but now he stood in his tent, listening with tense eyes to the new messenger sent by Caesar that day. The messenger repeated Caesar's words one by one. For Neva, patience had run out. His eyes were full of anger and ambition.

"There's only one option left for me now. I'll end this tonight."

In the dead of night, with the moon a hazy shape in the sky, Neva and his forces moved through the forest and crept toward Asmanda. The area was silent,only distant owl calls broke the stillness. Neva's scouts quietly eliminated the lookouts. Around the town, everything appeared calm. Too calm. Nothing seemed out of place but for Neva, "too easy" had always been a warning. The truth revealed itself when the first arrows sliced through the sky and fell among his men. As soon as they slipped into the town, torches flared from all directions. Archers sprang out from behind houses, cellar doors, and rooftops. The stone streets of Asmanda lit up with fire. It was a trap.

Neva's troops were caught in the narrow alleys, unable to move freely. Alpen had been waiting for this. He had placed fighters in every corner, hidden traps inside homes, and built barricades to block the streets. Like a master of chess, he had lured his enemy into checkmate using their own moves. And now, he controlled the entire board.

The battle tore through the streets. Neva's men charged with axes in front and shields behind. Windows shattered, rooftops collapsed, and death lingered at every turn.

Neva never once thought of retreating. He pressed forward, through the screams and the clash of steel. His blade dripped with blood. He stepped over allies and struck down enemies each swing met with another trap, another ambush. As they pushed deeper into the town, the paths behind were already sealed. Going back was no longer possible. Neva's army had walked into their own ambush.

Then came the explosion a gunpowder store ignited, bursting into flame like a star in the middle of the night. A severed head landed at Neva's feet. It belonged to Asteros, his right hand. Neva dropped to his knees exhausted, defeated, cornered and through the smoke and fire, a figure approached with heavy steps: Alpen.

His armor was smeared with mud and blood, his eyes calm as he gazed down at Neva. In one hand a shield, in the other a sword. He stood tall amidst the chaos. It was the darkest hour of the night. In the glow of fire, two figures faced each other: One, still as ice, eyes as deep as an ancient forest.

The other, burning with rage, like a volcano ready to erupt. Alpen and Neva.

Neva slowly stood, locking eyes with his enemy. The noise of the battlefield faded behind them. Two commanders, lost in a storm of war, had finally found one another in the eye of it. A silent circle formed around them as soldiers kept fighting all around.

Neva moved with agility inside his light armor. In his hand was a slender yet deadly sword -short and razor-sharp. His eyes searched for an opening, while a mocking smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

Alpen, by contrast, stood firm inside his heavy armor. A shield rested on his left arm, and in his right, he held a long, slightly curved sword. His stance wasn't aggressive, but calculated. Every motion he made seemed thought out in advance disciplined and balanced.

The first move came from Neva.

He lunged forward with speed, unleashing blow after blow. His blade twisted like a dancer, trying to slip past a guard and strike true but Alpen blocked every strike either with his shield or by shifting a single step to the side. He didn't counter. He waited with patience.

Neva finally stepped back, catching his breath. He spoke in a mocking tone.

"I didn't expect you to be this cautious. You're fighting like a scared old man."

Alpen looked at him silently and chuckled.

"They say, 'What comes like the wind, leaves like a flood.'"

This time, Alpen struck first. He swung his sword swiftly. Neva blocked with his shield, but the follow-up spin was unexpected. Neva barely dodged it, but his armor got grazed. His eyes widened. This man... was far more skilled than he had thought.

Their clash had become a chess match. Neva began using his wit feinting, switching directions, testing defenses. He came in from the right, then the left, dancing with deception, trying to confuse his opponent.

But Alpen followed his every move, reading each strike as if he'd seen it before. Then, a moment came. Neva made a move that seemed to finally break through Alpen's defense. His blade slipped past the shield at least, that's how it looked. But it was a trap.

Alpen had lowered his shield on purpose, luring him in. Just as Neva lunged to strike, Alpen twisted upward from beneath, slamming his knee into Neva's chest. Neva staggered and in that instant, Alpen knocked his sword aside with a powerful swing. Neva's weapon flew into the grass. He was disarmed. As his knees hit the ground, he lifted his head and for the first time, the truth of defeat flickered in his eyes.

Alpen didn't raise his sword to Neva's throat. Instead, he picked up the fallen blade and silently turned his back.

"I knew I'd win. But killing you wouldn't be a victory. You still have things to say, Neva."

Neva bowed his head. This wasn't just a physical defeat it was something deeper. He had trusted his speed, his tactics, his intellect but he had faced a man who fought not only with strength, but with patience and precision. By then, the fighting among the soldiers had ceased. Seeing their commander defeated, Neva's men had surrendered. Tonight, it wasn't Asmanda that had fallen, it was Neva's pride.

Alpen gave a faint, mocking smile.

"Trusting the silence of a town... it cost you dearly, Neva. And it already has."

Neva, bleeding from every wound, slowly raised his head. The pain was all over him but his eyes still burned with defiance.

"I lost... but this war isn't over."

"You're right... But tonight wasn't your night. Tonight, Asmanda spoke."

Neva was taken prisoner. Alongside him, hundreds of his men had either fallen or surrendered. Though Alpen had suffered heavy losses, he had defended Asmanda, protected his people, and defeated the enemy.

As the morning sun lit the scorched streets of Asmanda, smoke still rose into the sky. The marks of war—blood, fire, and courage—were etched into every stone. Alpen stood before Neva, bearing the weight of battle on his shoulders, yet his expression remained steady. He looked into Neva's eyes, he could see that a spark still burned in this warrior's soul. But Neva was no longer just a captive. He was now a potential opportunity—a key to a much larger game.

Alpen turned and called out to those nearby.

"Aro, Mergen!"

The two men quickly approached. Aro was a quiet, sharp-eyed scout. Mergen was a large man, known for his discipline as much as his strength. Alpen had chosen them for this task not only for their loyalty, but because it required strategy.

"Take Neva to the capital. Do not stop anywhere along the way. Be cautious ,you never know who might cross your path. Once there, deliver him directly to Vizier Ilterish."

Aro nodded firmly. Mergen adjusted the axe on his shoulder. Neva remained silent like a warrior who had fallen in battle but preserved his honor.

Alpen turned back to the village square. He looked around: broken homes, the black marks of fire, wounded bodies... But life still clung to this place. The strength of its resistance was like the stubbornness of the land unyielding.

In a firm, steady voice, he spoke.

"Everyone, listen to me! These lands are ours and they will stay that way. Every burned home will be rebuilt. Every loss will be honored. Soldiers reinforce the northern and eastern gates. Civilians start with purifying the water sources. Blacksmiths check every piece of equipment. This town did not fall, and it never will!"

A resounding reply echoed from the people. Knowing that something would be rebuilt gave strength to weary bodies and hope to wounded hearts. As the first light of day spread across the land, Neva's escort set off. Alpen climbed onto a tall stone and gave the village one final look.

This battle was over.

The war in Asmanda had come to an end.

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