Chapter 15: Too Young to Know.

Adi moved like a shadow, his steps silent, his movements fluid. He was a ghost in the night, a predator stalking his prey. He slipped past the Ashari guards, his blade flashing, his movements precise, his kills swift and clean. Each Ashari fell without a sound, their bodies crumpling to the ground, their lives extinguished in a heartbeat.

Al Mussad, meanwhile, moved through the shadows, his movements a blur of motion, his presence a whisper in the darkness. He freed the slaves, his voice a low murmur, his touch gentle, his words reassuring. "Don't make a sound," he whispered, his eyes scanning the hall, his senses on high alert.

He was a whirlwind of motion, a phantom, a reaper. He thinned the Ashari ranks, his movements calculated, his strikes precise, a testament to his years as an Executioner. He was a master of his craft, a silent killer, a force of nature.

The slaves, their faces etched with fear and confusion, were moved towards the podium, their bodies trembling, their minds filled with a desperate hope. Al Mussad, his movements fluid, his presence a whisper, blended with the slaves, his body a shadow in the darkness. He was a chameleon, a master of disguise, a phantom in the night.

He reached the podium, his body pressed against the slaves, his eyes fixed on Jakobo, his hand resting on the hilt of his dagger. The moment was right. He struck like a scorpion, his dagger flashing, his movements swift and deadly. The dagger plunged into Jakobo's mouth, piercing his brain, ending his life in a single, brutal stroke.

The spectators, their faces a mixture of shock and horror, watched in stunned silence as Jakobo's body crumpled to the ground, his eyes wide with disbelief, his life extinguished in a flash of violence.

The masked Ashari member, his face contorted with rage, his eyes burning with a chilling intensity, lunged from the balcony. But Adi was waiting for him, his blade raised, his eyes locked on the masked figure, his body tense, his movements poised.

The guards at the podium, their faces contorted with fury, their weapons drawn, charged towards Al Mussad. They roared their defiance, their voices echoing through the hall, their bodies a blur of motion. But they were too late. Al Mussad, his movements a blur, his strikes precise, had already dispatched them, their bodies falling to the ground, their lives extinguished in a flurry of violence.

The hall was a scene of chaos, the air thick with the smell of blood, the sounds of screams and shouts echoing through the cavern. But amidst the chaos, two figures stood, their eyes locked, their bodies tense, their weapons raised.

Adi and the masked Ashari member, their destinies intertwined, their fates hanging in the balance, prepared for the final confrontation.

Adi launched himself at the masked Ashari, his movements a blur of speed and precision. He was a whirlwind of motion, a force of nature, his blade flashing, his strikes relentless. But the masked figure, his movements deceptively slow, his reflexes lightning fast, deflected Adi's attacks with ease.

The masked man countered, his strikes heavy, his power overwhelming. Adi, caught off guard by the masked man's strength, staggered back, his defenses crumbling under the relentless assault.

"Why are you on their side?" the masked man asked, his voice a low growl, his eyes burning with a chilling intensity. "We're supposed to make chaos, to thin out the humans in the world."

Adi, his mind reeling, his body aching, shook his head. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said, his voice filled with confusion.

A burly Ashari guard, his face contorted with rage, swung a heavy mace towards Adi. Adi, his senses sharp, his reflexes honed, dodged the blow in a split second, his body a blur of motion.

"Ahh, I see," the guard said, his voice laced with a hint of amusement. "You're a hundred years too young to know."

The masked man, his movements a blur, his speed overwhelming, closed the distance between them. He grabbed Adi by the neck, his grip strong, his fingers digging into Adi's flesh.

"You're like me," he said, his voice a low whisper, his eyes filled with a chilling intensity.

A loud bang echoed through the hall, interrupting the masked man's words. A musket, its barrel smoking, its muzzle still glowing, lay on the podium. The masked man, his grip loosening, stumbled back, his eyes widening in surprise. He threw Adi towards the podium, his body crashing against the wood, his breath knocked out of him.

Al Mussad, his face grim, his eyes scanning the hall, saw the musket. "Look," he said, his voice filled with a mixture of relief and urgency. "They have muskets here."

The masked man, his eyes fixed on Al Mussad, his voice a low growl, said, "We'll see each other again soon."

He vanished into the shadows, his movements a blur, his presence a whisper in the darkness. The hall was silent, the air thick with the smell of blood and gunpowder. The slaves, their faces a mixture of fear and relief, watched as Adi slowly rose to his feet, his body aching, his mind reeling.

Al Mussad, his eyes filled with a mixture of concern and admiration, approached Adi. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice filled with a quiet concern.

Adi, his breath ragged, his body bruised, nodded. "I'm fine," he said, his voice a low murmur. "But we need to get out of here."

The battle was far from over. The Ashari were still a threat. The fight for freedom, for justice, for the future of the world, was just beginning.

The Niziari members, their faces grim, their hearts pounding with a mixture of fear and determination, gathered around Al Mussad and Adi. They were ready to fight. They were Niziari, and they would not be defeated.