Night had arrived.
Everyone was in position.
The widest section of the canyon stretched before Malik, flanked on each side by the same mountains.
He stood alone, his back facing the village in the distance.
He was calm. Steady.
Because he knew.
He knew how this dance played out.
His gaze lifted to the horizon where the first waves of the enemy walked.
A tide of steel and flesh.
Three thousand foot soldiers.
Two hundred archers.
Dozens of Magi.
Six Sahirs.
A full army against a single village.
A full army against a single man.
At least for a little while.
...Let them come.
Those damned bandits had no idea they were walking straight into Hell.
GHOOOOOAAAAN!
At that warhorn, the first wave reached the field's entrance.
"FOR GLORY!"
"TEAR THEM APART!"
"NO MERCY! NO SURVIVORS!"
"WE TAKE THEIR GOLD!"
"WE RAPE THEIR WOMEN!"
"WE LEAVE NOTHING BEHIND!"
Their battle cries echoed against the stone walls.
