Loose

In the coastal city of Hadia, a man sat in a room surrounded by three armored men. His face was tense, and his foul mood was unmistakable. The Sulten Burak was prepared for the assault from the men that had camped outside his city and had made a command outpost in one of the houses just close to the city's only gate. Even at this very moment, Sulten Burak had not given up hope and was waiting for his men to bring some news

As Silence hung in the air until the door suddenly opened, cutting the obvious tension, and a soldier entered.

Sulten Burak quickly raised his head and spoke in a sharp, urgent tone.

"What are they doing?" Sulten Burak, the man seated at the desk, demanded.

"My Lord, it seems the enemies are having a feast," the soldier replied.

"What?" Burak exclaimed in confusion, slamming his fist on the table. "That bastard is mocking us!"

"What do we do, Lord Burak?" one of the armored men asked.

"We could attack them now while they're distracted," another suggested.

"It's obvious they're trying to provoke us. If we attack now, we might fall into a trap," another voice countered.

"Damn it!" Burak cursed, his frustration boiling over.

"Where are the other Sultens?" Burak asked.

"They haven't arrived yet. I doubt they'll be coming," one of the men replied grimly.

Burak's rage flared. "Damn them all! Where's that bitch Khalifa? How could she let them destroy Bintan? How could Khan and Abu lose? And where are those damn child spies from Eru? We'll use them as cannon fodder in the battle!"

"They escaped from the room where we kept them. Those hermits killed the guards stationed there. We're searching for them now," another soldier reported.

Burak ran his hand through his hair, overwhelmed by the mounting failures. One disaster after another plagued him. He had tried everything to seize power in Wize. King Ken's death had left a power vacuum, and Burak had seen his chance. Victory seemed within reach—he had powerful generals among the Ten Sands, allies in the Sultens, and the resources of an entire nation behind him.

But it had all unraveled. His generals were likely dead, his Sulten allies had probably betrayed him, and the nation that had once backed him was gone. Now, he stood alone, barely able to defend the city.

"Damn it. I shouldn't have listened to General Abu," Burak muttered to himself. "We should've held our ground here and waited for Jai to attack. If he'd come, we could've met him with our full force and worn him down."

Now, defeat loomed. Everything he had worked for was crumbling. His thoughts churned as he searched for a solution.

"The prince," Burak said suddenly. "Where is he?"

"Last we heard, he was in Lyokis, though we doubt he's still there," one of the men answered.

Burak's gaze swept across the room, locking eyes with each man.

"The prince is Wize's only hope. We cannot let Hadia fall. Not now. We must hold fast and stand firm. Jai wants a fight? Then we'll give him hell and blood. Tell the men to rest well tonight. Tomorrow will be a long day." Burak said, trying to motivate his men.

As Burak finished speaking, a soldier entered the room.

"My Lord, Sulten Hafe has arrived," the soldier announced.

"That's great. Send him in at once" Sulten Burak said.

Sulten Hafe stepped in, accompanied by a single guard.

"Hafe!" Burak exclaimed, his voice tinged with relief. "I thought you'd betrayed me."

"Why would I do that? If I turn to Jai, he'll kill me. You're my only hope," Hafe replied, his voice trembling.

"Good to hear," Burak said, visibly pleased. "We're preparing for battle tomorrow. It'll be a tough one, but we'll make them bleed."

Hafe approached Burak, his expression calm. As he drew closer, he suddenly pulled a dagger, aiming for Burak's throat. Burak moved just in time, the blade grazing his neck. In one swift motion, he drew his saber and struck Hafe down.

Burak turned to call for help, but in the same moment, the guard who had entered with Hafe—a man disguised as Larry Dew—had already killed the four men in the room.

Burak stared in shock at the corpses. One man's throat had been slashed, another's heart torn out, a third was bleeding from a fatal stomach wound, and the fourth had been decapitated.

"When…"

"How.." Sulten Burak was lost of words. In a brief moment, the man had killed his commanders

"You… You're cursed," Burak stammered as Larry cut off an arm from one of the corpses and began eating it.

"So?" Larry asked nonchalantly, his face smeared with blood.

Burak gripped his saber tightly, his eyes locked on Larry. "I'm guessing I can't call for help, as my men outside are being attacked as well?"

"Smart," Larry replied with a bloodied grin.

"I can't believe Jai would try to assassinate me! That fool thinks a weakling like Hafe could end me?"

"Hafe wasn't meant to kill you," Larry said. At least that was what he said. He knew the fool will grow nervous at the last minute and miss his target, so we had some contingencies.

Burak suddenly felt dizzy, the room spinning around him.

"It seems you're finally feeling it," Larry said with a sinister smile.

"What did you do?" Burak demanded, struggling to steady himself.

"It's poison," Larry revealed. "As you guessed, that weakling wasn't supposed to kill you. Lord Jai knew you'd survive. I'm the one sent to finish the job."

Larry stepped closer, his voice dripping with malice.

"Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Larry Dew—your doom."

Just as Larry had said to Burak. The men outside the command post were also being attacked by the men that had followed the Sulten. They had not expected their allies to turn on them almost as soon as they arrived so it was barely a fight. Most men that were dead on the floor had barely gotten the chance to draw their weapon before they were killed. Many laid on the ground dead, and many more was bound to follow that same night