The Start of a Great Battle

They made it to the castle faster this time, which was no shock to the group. This occasion was truly significant, poised to shape the destiny of the world. The group clearly grasped the gravity of the situation, as seen in the astonishment etched on General Visch's face.

“Well, you all have impeccable timing,” the general quipped, though it didn't quite land.

With a curt nod, Asiris walked past General Visch, leaving him bewildered by the abrupt shift in attitude.

The rest of the gang seemed to have it together, but there was definitely a strong vibe in the air. “Okay…” the general muttered.

Off they went to the soldiers' hideout, attracting curious gazes as if they were the heroes of the day.

“So, you guys are the Heathers,” one person quipped, a hint of sarcasm in his tone. He playfully imitated an African accent, mentioning the great Asiris.

Peter cleverly deduced that one of the individuals in the hideout was of African descent and that the banter was intended for entertainment. “So, how about you teach us how to predict every move like a fortune teller,” he quipped, playfully smacking Asiris on the shoulder.

Chuckles ensued, though none of it seemed truly humorous.

“Excuse me,” Asiris said, his patience wearing thin. If he stuck around for this banter much longer, someone's face could end up split open.

Xavier was already striding in that direction, shooting a stern glance at the teasing individual.

They settled into a seat provided by someone who happened to have an African accent.

“Apologies for Riki, he can be quite a handful,” the person chuckled, expecting further amusement.

“So, are these the princes?” he inquired. “Indeed,” Caville replied. Micah possesses the Heather Eye's power, so his presence on this mission is crucial.

“Ah yes, heard that myth before,” he remarked, chuckling once more, now teetering on irritation.

The atmosphere took a sudden turn when a commanding voice rang out, causing everyone in the room to immediately focus.

Asiris glanced to his left and noticed a man in a neatly tucked shirt and a brown cap resembling a military sergeant.

With the Ikes encroaching on our turf and advancing toward the wall, the sergeant declared, pausing dramatically and creating an eerie tension in the room.

“Machine men!”

“Here!”

“Infantry!”

"Here!"

“Archers!”

"Here!"

“Knights!”

"Here!"

"Heathers!"

"Here?..." Micah paused, taking a step back as the room fell into an unexpected hush.

Well, well, well, it appears we have everyone—hold on. Asiris? The sergeant inquired.

In a moment of self-preservation, Asiris rose to his feet and admitted, "Yes, it's me."

The sergeant flashed a grin and gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder. "You and I need to have a little chat about... stuff, but first, let me get this initial order out, alright?"

After a courteous handshake, Asiris made his way back to his seat.

In a voice that didn’t match his earlier whispering, the sergeant exclaimed, “Now, we need archers behind the infantry, and we need machine guns on the top of the wall—don’t let them get through!”

“Yes, sir!”

"Alright, let's get a move on!" With a dramatic flair, he shouted before glancing at Asiris, motioning for him to follow.

Micah and Peter cautiously traced the razor-sharp edges of their swords, narrowly avoiding injury.

“Well, hopefully the Ikes have fun with this,” Peter boasted, trying to mask his growing unease. "Well, I must say, finding myself in this situation was quite unexpected." Micah chuckled uneasily, "You can repeat that sentiment."

A moment of quiet lingered as dread started to creep in.

As Peter's voice trembled, he posed a question, "If we don't make it through this battle, it's been a pleasure being your brother."

Micah's fear quickly morphed into concern. Well, I can't die. I must use this power to rescue them, and I refuse to disappoint them.

“Don’t fret,” Peter assured him, regaining his composure. "I'll ensure no one lays a finger on you."

“Thanks,” Micah replied, finding a glimmer of security in Peter’s words. Yet, worry persisted. What was Peter's grand plan for self-preservation?

As the parade went on, the initial whispers of fatigue began to spread among the crowd. “My legs burn,” Peter complained.

Micah couldn't resist a chuckle, replying, "You can say that again."

Vienne and Xavier sauntered over to join the group on the march, their expressions a delightful blend of excitement and nervousness.

“Ahh yes, battle is soon to begin,” Xavier declared. “So, what's your grand scheme?”

Peter boldly declared, “I’m just gonna eliminate every Ike I see,” his voice brimming with assurance. Xavier let out a chuckle in agreement, briefly lifting their spirits.

"Oh, we're really feeling it now!" they chuckled, but the laughter quickly died down as serious thoughts resurfaced.

“I hope we survive this,” Vienne admitted.

“Ditto,” they all chimed together, a harmonious moment that brought comfort.

Suddenly, the march was abruptly interrupted, with commands echoing through the troops. Peter, initially perplexed, suddenly found himself overcome with a wave of inquisitiveness.

“What happened?” he inquired, maneuvering through the crowd, his curiosity trumping his initial confusion.

Standing at the front of the line, he was taken aback by the sight before him. Countless Ikes lined up in perfect formation, with a single figure commanding attention at the front. “Who’s up front?” he asked, surprised when Jack responded.

General Stricker's great-grandfather had quite the eventful history with us during the past war. He nearly wiped out our entire army. He's definitely someone worth keeping an eye on.

Peter glanced back at General Stricker, captivated by this new opponent. The general sported disheveled dirty-blonde hair and a matching scruffy beard. The smirk on his face gave Peter chills, and his voice was equally disturbing.

“Well, might as well stop him,” Peter muttered.

"So, are these the great Hemorrians who've come to stop our army of global domination!?" General Stricker bellowed. "I must say, I'm quite intrigued."

Asiris boldly made his way to the front next to General Visch, immediately grabbing Peter's interest.

“Alright, what brings you here?” Asiris bellowed, the sound echoing through the Ikes’ ranks.

General Stricker's reply was about as illuminating as a dark room. “So it’s true; the Heathers have come to help you guys,” he sneered.

"Yes—now answer my question." What brings you fine folks to this place? "Asiris demanded, irritation evident in his voice," he said with a raised eyebrow.

“Because we are well aware of your grand scheme, commander of the Heathers,” General Stricker taunted Asiris. Having only yourself to face us would be the wisest choice, without relying on your feeble allies.

General Visch was not pleased with the situation, but Stricker's even louder snorts started to make Visch uneasy.

"You see, you guys have done this world to a crisp." You have no power, in fact, you can’t even keep your own princes.

Asiris couldn't help but let out a few snorts, even louder than Stricker's, which only increased the tension.

“We shall establish a fresh order, a novel law!” Stricker exclaimed, prompting the Ikes to cheer and raise their swords triumphantly. "And you'd wish you'd been a part of it," he added, holding his sword high.

“Stations!” Asiris gave the order, and both armies took their places. General Visch, brandishing two swords, caught Asiris' interest.

The tension in the air was palpable as the soldiers faced off, their gazes locked on their adversaries, ready for the impending clash of swords.

Counting away like a mathematician.

“Now,” Asiris whispered, and the silence was shattered by deafening screams as the Heathers and Ikes charged at each other with determination and fury.

The frontlines clashed, their path cutting through the Ikes like a blade through flesh. The frontline had vanished, leaving only a trail of disorder.

Stricker observed the situation and, from his faraway spot, signaled for a messenger to come over.

“Yes?” inquired the messenger.

Stricker quipped, "Why don't we send some soldiers to the frontlines and break the breakthrough?"

“Yes, sir,” the messenger confirmed.

With a swift gallop, he led his horse onto the battlefield, commanding the troops, "Send reinforcements to the frontlines, halt the enemy advance!"

The Ikes perked up at the sound and turned their gaze towards the frontlines, preparing for whatever the Hemorrians had planned next. Get ready, the showdown is about to get even more intense.