Feet pounded the sand, quick and restless. Soldiers slipped between corpses, eyes burning with urgency. They held their breath, stifling cries as they darted from tent to tent.
The hiss of a spear cut through the night. A soldier froze—only to see a comrade slipping out of an enemy tent, then diving into another.
Not many enemies lingered nearby, yet the air seemed to choke him. Ahead, a fight erupted—an ally struck down with a scream. The soldier lunged forward, spear in hand.
The enemy looked dazed, but his blade was merciless. Steel flashed—slashes, thrusts. The soldier of Khalid dodged, waited, bided his time. Then—he roared, drove his spear into the man's shoulder, and before the foe could utter a sound, drove it again into his throat.
Another body fell among many. Confusion wrapped itself around the soldier's mind. All around him, comrades passed with grim faces, eyes set forward. Then—a sound. He turned.
Others were running the same way. At the center of the storm, General Hanna battled enemies who loomed like giants. Soldiers tried to intervene, but no opening came.
One of Khalid's men fell to a brutal strike. Hanna, unshaken, retaliated—his spear driving into an enemy's abdomen before he released it, twisting free from a rain of strikes. An unarmored giant surged toward him, fury blazing.
"General!" shouted the observing soldier. He hurled his spear. Hanna caught it mid-air, spun, and in one motion drove it into the enemy's chest, just shy of the heart.
The soldier gasped. Hanna stayed focused, ripping the weapon free, stabbing again. The giant staggered, blood pouring, yet still swung wildly. The impact of his blade rattled the earth.
Another enemy approached—long blond hair loose, a strip of cloth tied at his waist, his bare chest gleaming with sweat. He attacked in a storm of cuts. Hanna danced, sidestepped, the spear whistling as he turned each stroke aside. Behind him, the wounded giant pressed on with madness in his eyes.
More of Khalid's men surged into the fray. Sand shifted under frantic feet, the clash of weapons filling the night. The blond-haired foe locked blades with one soldier, while the wounded giant lunged again at Hanna. This time Hanna spun low, drove the spear deep into his body a third time, and ended him.
The soldier who had thrown his spear earlier stared, stunned. But resolve hardened. He seized another weapon from the ground and rushed to Hanna's side.
The giant collapsed. Hanna wasted no breath, already turning. The fight with the blond warrior raged on, but more titans loomed, their shadows massive against the firelit tents. Three still stood free. Hanna's eyes narrowed—he would break them swiftly, or be broken himself.
He charged, spear leveled. The tip tore through one giant's chest, piercing deep. He pushed forward, driving the man back, locking eyes with the two others as surprise flickered across their faces. He wrenched the weapon free, spun, and dropped into stance again—two foes circling.
Nearby, the soldier of Khalid finished his own enemy with a single slash to the neck. Hanna noted it with a glance before his feet shifted, body whirling. His spear cut across one giant's side, but the man blocked his escape with a brutal sword strike, forcing Hanna back, bare inches from death.
Weaponless now, Hanna ducked and dodged, relentless steel seeking him out. His enemies never tired, but neither did he. Each breath was measured, each step precise. He searched—waited—for an opening.
Then—there. A corpse on the ground. Hanna dropped low, rolled, seized the fallen spear, and rose in one fluid strike. The giant's blade skimmed past his face, silver flashing, and Hanna struck—hard. The point drove through flesh and bone.
The giant staggered, blood spraying, but Hanna did not stop. Blow after blow, deep punctures, until the monster finally fell.
Hanna's breath came hard, steady. Around him, tents collapsed, corpses sprawled. Soldiers ran between them with their spears held tight, the battle thinning but far from done.
He looked at the soldier who had stood with him. "Come," Hanna ordered.
The soldier met his gaze, nodded once. Together they pushed forward, spears ready, vanishing again into the chaos of blood and fire.