Confrontation Between Allies

The battlefield was a cacophony of chaos and despair, a symphony of violence and suffering that assaulted every sense. The metallic clang of swords meeting shields rang out like discordant bells, while the guttural cries of the wounded mingled with the acrid scent of smoke and blood. Dust swirled in the air, carrying with it the bitter tang of gunpowder and the stinging sting of ash. Chris could taste the dryness in his mouth, the residue of dirt and despair. His hands trembled as he clenched his fists, his knuckles aching under the strain, frustration boiling over into an uncontrollable rage.

He turned sharply to Jabari, who stood like a stone amidst the storm. The contrast was maddening. “Look at this, Jabari!” Chris’s voice cracked, raw with emotion. “People are dying, and you’re standing here like it’s just another day. How can you be so calm?” His eyes burned, not just with anger, but with desperation, searching Jabari’s face for even a flicker of shared pain.

Jabari didn’t flinch. His posture was relaxed, almost serene, his gaze fixed beyond the horizon where the sky was an angry canvas of orange and black, fire and smoke painting a scene of carnage. The sharp scent of burning wood and flesh hung heavy in the air, but his expression was as placid as still water. “Chris,” he began, his voice low and steady, cutting through the din like a blade through silk, “you know as well as I do that losing your head won’t change anything.”

Chris staggered back a step, his boots grinding against the rough, uneven ground, slick with mud and streaked with crimson. “I don’t want to hear that!” he shouted, his voice hoarse. “We can do something. We should be doing something! How can you just accept this? Don’t you care?” His heart pounded, each beat hammering against his ribs like a war drum.

Jabari finally shifted, his dark eyes meeting Chris’s with an intensity that belied his calm. “Caring doesn’t change the outcome,” he said simply, his words deliberate, measured. “This is war. People die. It’s tragic, but it’s also inevitable.” His tone was calm but heavy, each word like a stone dropped into the turbulent sea of Chris’s emotions.

Chris took another step closer, the heat from a nearby blaze warming his skin and making the air almost unbearable to breathe. He could feel the grit of ash against his teeth as he spoke, his voice breaking with raw emotion. “So, what? Do we just accept this slaughter? We let people die for some ‘greater good’ that doesn’t even guarantee victory?”

Jabari sighed softly, his breath visible in the cool morning air despite the inferno around them. He turned to fully face Chris, his movements deliberate, the rustle of his cloak a whisper against the chaos. “Chris,” he said, his voice softer now but no less firm, “what you see as acceptance isn’t that. It’s understanding. Understanding that the world isn’t black and white. Sacrifices are made not out of cold indifference, but out of necessity.”

Chris felt the weight of Jabari’s words pressing down on him, heavy as the scent of death clung to the battlefield. His throat tightened as he struggled to find the words, to cling to his righteous anger. But Jabari’s gaze didn’t waver, his dark eyes piercing and unwavering, their calm resolve cutting through Chris’s turmoil like a blade. “It’s not easy,” Jabari continued, his voice carrying over the cacophony as though the war itself quieted to listen. “It doesn’t feel right. But if we want to win, we must be willing to carry this burden. Not for ourselves, but for everyone who cannot.”

The tension between Chris and Jabari was palpable, a storm brewing between them as the clamour of distant battle echoed through the air, faintly mingling with the metallic tang of blood and ash. The harsh stench of war clung to their clothes, mixing with the cold, acrid smoke wafting from burning debris.

Chris whirled around sharply, his boots grinding against the scorched earth as his fury boiled over like an unchecked blaze. His voice was a raw snarl, each word laced with venom. “What kind of monster revels in this? From the very beginning of this war, you’ve been suspicious—your every move reeks of secrecy!”

Jabari stood still, his posture unyielding and calm like an immovable pillar amidst chaos. He let out a slow, measured sigh, the sound like the hiss of wind against a blade. “Suspicious?” he repeated, his tone low but sharp, cutting through Chris’s anger like a knife. “Chris, this is exactly why I am ranked Master One, and you are Master Two.” His gaze fixed on Chris, intense and unwavering, the weight of authority and disdain in his dark eyes like a physical pressure. “I don’t let emotions dictate my decisions. Unlike you, I don’t allow them to blind me from what is necessary to achieve victory.”

Chris’s fists clenched at his sides, his knuckles white under the strain. Veins throbbed angrily along his temples, his entire frame trembling with barely contained rage. The words Jabari had spoken struck a nerve, a deep and festering wound that Chris could not ignore. His face twisted in a mix of fury and frustration, his breaths coming in shallow, rapid bursts like an animal cornered.

In an explosive outburst, Chris’s voice cracked through the tension like a whip. “You know, Jabari, it’s as if you’re working for Balisarda Sumernor!” Spit flew as he shouted, his voice hoarse from both shouting and raw emotion. “At this point, you’re no better than him—just as he betrayed the Ultimate Bloodshed User, you’re going to betray the military! I see it already!”

The accusation hung in the air like smoke, thick and suffocating. Jabari’s expression didn’t waver, but the air around him seemed to grow heavier, and colder. His sharp jawline tensed as he locked eyes with Chris, the faintest twitch betraying a momentary flicker of something unreadable—anger, pity, or perhaps indifference. The tension between the two was electric, a coiled spring ready to snap as the remnants of war—shouts, distant explosions, and the sharp scent of burning flesh—seeped into the space between them.

The argument between Chris and Jabari raged like a storm atop the wide hill, their voices rising above the distant din of battle. The tension in the air was thick, charged with emotion, and carried the bitter tang of blood, smoke, and earth. The clash of ideals was almost deafening, even as the background symphony of war swelled below them.

From the hill’s edge, Jolvuthiz watched with a sharp gaze, his form partially cloaked in a shroud of writhing, dark energy. His eyes, burning with cold amusement, narrowed as he observed their heated exchange. The chaos in their words was a stark contrast to his eerie calm. His lips curled into a mocking smirk as he muttered under his breath, "Fools. Squabbling like children while the world burns around them." His body tensed, as he tilted his head slightly, the faint hum of his power vibrating through the air around him.

With a sudden burst of motion, Jolvuthiz launched himself from the hilltop, his powerful legs digging into the scorched earth and propelling him forward with shocking speed. The ground quaked faintly from the force of his leap, and a low rush of displaced air followed in his wake. The faint scent of charred soil lingered in the space where he once stood, the only indication of his departure.

The world around him blurred as he cut through the space between himself and his targets. The sound of the wind roared in his ears, mingling with the muffled cacophony of battle below. His senses heightened with each heartbeat: the distant crackle of flames, the metallic tang of blood in the air, the texture of the uneven earth beneath his boots.

In a blink, Jolvuthiz was upon them. Neither Chris nor Jabari had time to react; his arrival was as sudden and unstoppable as a lightning strike. Dust and ash swirled violently around him as his feet slammed into the ground, the force sending faint tremors across the hilltop.

Both swords were already unsheathed, their edges pulsing with a sinister, dark energy. He moved with an effortless, predatory grace, extending his arms in one fluid motion to press the razor-sharp tips of his blades against Chris’s neck on his left and Jabari’s on his right. The cold steel hovered dangerously close, poised to bite with the faintest movement. For a brief, tense moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. Chris felt the chilling sting of the blade’s edge against his skin, a whisper of pain that promised devastation at the slightest slip. Jabari’s jaw clenched, his calm exterior unshaken, though his sharp gaze flicked to the blade at his throat, silently calculating the danger.

Jolvuthiz’s grin spread slowly, unnervingly wide, his sharp teeth glinting like predatory fangs. “Gentlemen,” he said, his voice dripping with mockery, a deep, resonant tone that seemed to reverberate in their very bones. “I see you’re enjoying a delightful spat amidst this charming carnage. Mind if I…cut in?”

Chris’s breath hitched as he instinctively swallowed, the faintest motion causing the blade at his throat to press just a little harder. His rage was momentarily eclipsed by shock and a flicker of fear. Jabari, however, remained eerily composed, his calm unbroken even with death so close. His dark eyes met Jolvuthiz’s mismatched gaze—a mixture of human intensity and the otherworldly glow of dark energy.

“Jolvuthiz,” Jabari said evenly, his voice as steady as ever, “stand down. This is no time for theatrics.”

Jolvuthiz chuckled softly, a low, menacing sound that would send shivers down anyone's spine. “Oh, but this is precisely the time, Master One,” he said mockingly, his tone laced with amusement. “Your little squabble here is delightful, but I’d hate for it to escalate into something…messy.”

His eyes darted to Chris, who was glaring at him with barely restrained fury. “And you,” Jolvuthiz added, his smirk growing. “You seem so eager to bark accusations, but I wonder…do you bite as fiercely as you bark?”

Chris’s fists clenched, his body trembling with restrained anger. “Get your sword off me, Jolvuthiz,” he growled through gritted teeth, his voice low and dangerous. “Or I swear—”

“You’ll what?” Jolvuthiz sneered, his grin abruptly vanishing as his features twisted into a cold mask of disdain. His eyes, once gleaming with amusement, darkened as his voice dropped to a low, menacing whisper, each word laced with venom. “Pleasure me, you say? With what I crave most—a fight.”

He took a step forward, the air around him thickening with an unsettling energy, his presence almost suffocating. The words hung in the air like a challenge, daring his opponent to make the first move. “I do not seek the trivial pleasures you offer. No, I hunger for something far more satisfying.” His lips curled into a dangerous smile, the gleam in his eyes reflecting the twisted excitement of a predator ready to pounce. “A true struggle. The kind that tests the limits of both mind and body. A battle to the death.”

The tension was suffocating, the weight of his words settling like a heavy shroud over the three of them. The dark energy surrounding Jolvuthiz flared slightly, crackling with raw power, as if daring either man to test him.

Jabari, the unyielding figure who had withstood countless trials, stood as a monument of strength and resolve. His gaze never wavered as he addressed the looming threat before him. The silence between them had stretched, thick with tension, until Jabari’s voice finally shattered it—clear, deep, and unwavering.

"Jolvuthiz," he said, his tone carrying the weight of authority, as if his very words held the power to bend fate itself. "Enough. Lower your swords."

For a brief moment, the dark swordsman—Jolvuthiz—remained motionless, his cold eyes flickering between Jabari and the other figure in the distance. He seemed to take pleasure in the pause, as if savouring the reactions of the men before him, gauging their will to resist. The chill in the air deepened as the hundreds of swords that rained down upon the battlefield continued their deadly descent, tearing into the earth, shattering armour, and claiming lives without discrimination.

Then, with a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of the world, Jolvuthiz finally spoke, his voice laced with mocking disdain. “Jabari,” he drawled, “you have no authority here, no right to demand such a thing from me. You think you can command me to lower my blades, but you cannot even discern the source of the eighty thousand swords falling from the sky—swords that are cutting down those around us with deadly precision.”

His eyes glinted with knowing cruelty, watching Jabari closely as he took in the chaos surrounding them. "Where do you think all this destruction is coming from, huh?" Jolvuthiz’s voice dripped with derision as he continued, his smirk barely visible beneath the shadow of his hood. "You stand here, a pillar of strength, yet you can’t even see what direction the root of this attack is coming from."

The faint hum of his energy-laden blades underscored the silence, a foreboding melody to accompany the symphony of war raging below. Finally, with an exaggerated sigh, he tilted his head, his grin returning with a venomous edge.

“Always so commanding, Jabari,” Jolvuthiz drawled, his voice dripping with mockery. “You carry yourself like a king, yet your throne is built on shifting sand.” Slowly, he withdrew his swords, the dark energy dissipating from their edges like smoke retreating into shadows. The tension in the air eased marginally, though the threat of his presence lingered like a storm cloud.

Chris staggered back, instinctively rubbing his neck where the cold steel had kissed his skin. His eyes burned with a mixture of anger and confusion, but he bit back any further outbursts. Jabari, as calm and steady as ever, took a deliberate step forward, positioning himself between Chris and Jolvuthiz, his posture a subtle yet unmistakable shield.

Before anyone had a chance to speak, Chris cut through the silence with a loud, commanding tone laced with barely contained rage. "Jolvuthiz, can you just shut the fuck up, please? You’re giving me a headache with your blabbering, prioritising your own self-pleasure while our comrades are being annihilated.”

Jolvuthiz didn't flinch at the harsh words; he simply stared at Chris with cold, contemptuous eyes. Then, with a shrug, he slowly slid his twin blades into their sheaths, his movements casual and fluid, like a dancer dancing to an unheard tune. He tilted his head slightly, the faint glow of dark energy rippling across his skin, like the gentle glow of the moon on a dark night. "Oh Chrissy boy," he began, his tone dripping with mockery, "what a wonderful choice of words. How clever you are, to blame others for the suffering your ignorance has created."

The words landed with a sharp, stinging blow. The anger that had faded in the face of Jolvuthiz's insanity flared like a flame, sending the blood rushing to Chris's face. His hands curled into fists as he glared at Jolvuthiz, his words a barely contained snarl. "You—"

"Chris." Jabari's voice cut through the tension like a knife. Chris's eyes narrowed, and his shoulders tensed as he fixed his gaze on Jabari. His jaw clenched, but he said nothing, letting the words die on his lips. Jabari's gaze was unwavering, his posture unflinching. "Stand down," he commanded quietly.

Chris exhaled slowly, his breath escaping in a faint wisp visible in the cold, tense air. The subtle hiss of his breath matched the rhythmic thrum of his pulse pounding in his ears. The metallic tang of adrenaline lingered on his tongue, sharp and biting, as he forced his clenched fists to relax. His fingers tingle slightly, the sensation echoing the restrained fury coursing through him.

He closed his eyes for a heartbeat, shutting out the dim, flickering lights of the room that cast distorted shadows across the walls. The faint smell of burnt wiring hung in the air, mingling with the earthy scent of damp concrete. Chris drew in a deep, grounding breath, the cold biting at his lungs, and opened his eyes again, their sharp focus locking onto Jolvuthiz.

When he spoke, his voice was low and measured, carrying a weight that demanded attention. The faint echo of his words seemed to reverberate against the hard surfaces around them. “You know,” he began, his tone calm but laced with an edge of iron resolve, “you may be right, Jabari. But there’s one thing I can say for sure.”

He took a step forward, the scuff of his boot against the gritty floor punctuating his words. His gaze, unwavering and intense, held Jolvuthiz like a blade. “I joined the military to fight for what’s right. To stand and protect, not to cower like sitting ducks when attacked.”

The subtle tremor of tension in the room was almost palpable, like the heavy silence before a storm. Chris’s voice cut through it, deliberate and precise. “So answer me this,” he continued, each word pronounced with quiet authority. “Do you know, with any certainty, where the source of this attack is coming from, Jabari?”

Jabari’s expression remained steady, unshaken by Chris’s intensity. His presence was calm, deliberate, a fortress of composure in the storm of tension. The faint hum of power that always seemed to accompany him was there, subtle but undeniable, a low vibration in the air between them. He tilted his head slightly, as if considering Chris’s words, his sharp eyes catching the dim light in the room.

“Certainty, Chris?” Jabari’s voice was deep and steady, carrying a resonance that seemed to fill the space. It was neither dismissive nor defensive, but calm—assured. “You’re asking for certainty in the middle of a war zone? Certainty in chaos? Tell me, when has that ever existed?”

He stepped forward, the soft crunch of his boots on the gritty floor punctuating his deliberate movements. The faint scent of ozone lingered around him, electric and sharp, mingling with the heavier, metallic tang of tension in the room. His tone didn’t rise or falter; it was steady, unwavering.

“I’ll tell you what I do know,” Jabari murmured, his voice low and unyielding, a rumble that resonated like distant thunder. The tone was magnetic, pulling Chris closer, not with volume but with its measured weight. The air between them felt heavy as if the gravity of his words had thickened it. A faint metallic tang of blood and ash lingered, remnants of destruction saturating the atmosphere.

“This attack?” Jabari continued, his eyes narrowing, sharp and calculating. “It isn’t random. It’s surgical. Purposeful.” His gaze flickered, scanning their surroundings, as though he could still see the ghostly echoes of the chaos. Smoke hung in the distance, a smudged haze against the sky, carrying with it the acrid scent of scorched earth and charred metal. The crackling sounds of smouldering debris whispered faintly in the background, mingling with the restless murmurs of survivors.

“The patterns,” Jabari said, gesturing subtly with his hand, his fingers tightening as if holding an invisible thread, “they don’t match. The strikes—too calculated, too precise. Whoever—whatever—is behind this knows exactly how to fracture us.” He leaned closer to Chris, his words weighted and deliberate, his breath carrying a faint trace of sweat and tension. The cool breeze offered little relief, its bite brushing against their skin as if nature itself recoiled from the devastation.

“They’re dismantling us,” he said, his voice softening, yet filled with an almost tangible intensity. “Piece by piece. Targeting our structure, our cohesion, our will.” Each word felt like a blade, slicing through the veil of uncertainty, exposing the raw nerve of their predicament. A shiver rippled through the air, though whether from fear or the creeping realisation, Chris couldn’t tell.

Jabari’s eyes locked onto Chris’s, the depth of his gaze pulling Chris into the storm of his conviction. “And there is only one man on this planet with the capability to orchestrate something like this.” His next words came like the final strike of a gavel, their weight undeniable.

“Balisarda Sumernor.”

The name hung in the air, as heavy as the silence that followed, leaving Chris feeling as though the ground beneath them had shifted. A distant explosion rippled through the atmosphere, faint vibrations stirring beneath their feet as if to punctuate Jabari’s damning conclusion.

Jabari let those words hang in the air for a moment, the weight of them almost palpable. The faint flicker of light from the corner of the sky danced across his features, but his expression didn’t change. He took another step closer, now standing almost face-to-face with Chris.

“And I know this,” he said quietly, his voice sinking into a near-whisper, heavy with restrained intensity. “We can’t afford to waste time playing these games, looking for answers where there may not be any.”

Then, finally, Jabari took a half-step back, his posture as composed as ever. His arms hung loosely at his sides, and his eyes held a steady, unflinching gaze. “But as for your question, Chris,” he said, his voice softening just slightly, “if you want me to say it, fine—I don’t know. Not yet.”

smirk lingering, his eyes gleaming with an unsettling mix of amusement and disdain. The air around him crackled with malevolent energy, the oppressive weight of his presence pressing down on the battlefield, suffocating the very life out of the space between them.

Then, a sharp cackle broke through the tension, echoing like the creaking of a broken chain. Jolvuthiz’s lips parted in a cruel, mocking laugh that seemed to draw the very darkness closer, distorting the air around him with a thick, electric charge. "Ah, you both still don’t see it, do you? How tragic." His voice was laced with a malicious delight, each word a venomous drop that oozed into the air like poison.

Chris felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as he glanced around, his senses overwhelmed by the palpable darkness. The war around them—the distant crack of gunfire, the anguished wails of the fallen—seemed to fade into the background, drowned out by the unsettling, otherworldly force emanating from Jolvuthiz. The scent of ash and death lingered in his nostrils, but now it was tainted by something far worse—like the metallic tang of blood mingling with sulphur, a foreshadowing of what was to come.

Jabari’s eyes narrowed, his expression unreadable. "What are you talking about, Jolvuthiz?"

The mocking grin on Jolvuthiz’s face widened as he raised one hand, his fingers twisting in the air like an invisible marionette pulling at strings. A gust of wind stirred, sharp and bitter, carrying with it a faint sound—a sound that couldn’t be pinpointed but felt like something coming from above. The scent of ozone, the electric tang of a coming storm, flickered through the battlefield. Chris’s heart skipped a beat, his pulse quickening. He could feel it now—the unnatural stillness creeping into the air, the sensation of something ominous just beyond the reach of his senses.

Jolvuthiz’s eyes gleamed with cold delight, his voice almost a whisper now. "You think this war is your concern? Your petty bickering? How amusing. But the true source of destruction…" He paused, letting the silence stretch taut, like a bowstring pulled to its limit. Then, with a cruel flourish, he raised his arm higher, pointing directly at the sky.

Jabari’s face remained an impenetrable mask, his expression as fixed and unyielding as a chiselled statue. His short-cropped brown hair, slick with morning dew, caught faint glimmers of light from the overcast sky, and his beard, streaked with grey, framed his jaw with the quiet dignity of age and battle-worn resilience. His eyes, keen and piercing, narrowed as Jolvuthiz's arm rose, tracking the arc of movement with a glare that could almost bore into the soul of the gesture.

The air between them was thick, almost alive with what was left unsaid, but Jabari didn't budge. His shoulders were broad and steady; his body betrayed no sense of unease. He breathed slowly and measured, rising and falling in perfect rhythm with the pulse of the moment warrior's instinct rooted in discipline.

As Jolvuthiz's finger reached its apex, pointing skyward with a theatrical flourish, the stillness seemed to thrum with portentous energy. Jabari did not falter in his glare. It locked onto Jolvuthiz as if to challenge him to explain himself without words.

While Jabari just stood there, staring-unflinching in a glare that did not shake, Chris stood off a bit to the side and furrowed his brow, his lips parted, bemused. His gaze danced from Jolvuthiz's pointed arm up to the grim sky as though trying to find an important meaning within the movement itself. The weight of that seemed to fall differently in the set of his shoulders: tense, yet doubting, as though he stood amid a puzzle he didn't quite catch.

“What's he pointing at?" Chris muttered under his breath, yet very tellingly. He jerked his gaze toward Jabari and onto his stoic face as quickly as possible, hoping to cull something off, trying to see in him once more the wall standing before him, strong, solid, and unbreakable.

Chris shifted, the silence gnawing at him and feeding into his unease. His fingers curled into loose fists at his sides, and his tension gave away his unease. He wasn't sure whether speaking up or silence would work best, and that made the moment weigh heavily on him, scattering and clouding his thoughts in a million directions.

The curl of Jolvuthiz's lips upwards held no warmth, and was born of something deeper and unnervingly alien. His teeth were sharp and too perfect, glinting in the dim light, stretched in a grin just a fraction too wide, as if his face could barely contain it. Shadows seemed to collect at the corners of his mouth, outlining the unnatural angle of the expression.

“Chris, do you not feel it?" Jolvuthiz's voice was now shaking, not with fear, but with something far more sinister barely restrained glee oozing from every word. His grin stretched wider, exposing his razor-sharp teeth like the edge of a predator savouring his prey's last desperate breath. "The agonising death that befell our comrades, the screams that echoed through the void are nothing but a taste."

He took a deliberate step forward, his arm still pointing skyward, the motion slow, theatrical, as if savouring every second of their confusion. His amethyst eyes shone with a frenetic light, the gleam of a man unhinged by the revelation he was about to bestow.

"Jabari," Jolvuthiz hissed, his tone dripping with mockery. "You’ve pinned this carnage on Balisarda Sumernor, haven’t you? So confident, so sure of your conclusions. Yet, you’ve both failed to grasp the grandeur of what unfolds above us."

He laughed, a sound that was sharp and discordant like metal scraping against bone. The sound seemed to vibrate in the air, carrying with it a sickening undercurrent of exhilaration. Jolvuthiz's gaze burned into Jabari's, challenging, daring him to respond, but Jabari's stony demeanour remained unyielding.

"Look higher!" Jolvuthiz exclaimed suddenly, his voice swelling with unholy joy. "Feel it! The aura, the unrelenting surge of power that rends the very fabric of the heavens!" His arm quivered as if even he could barely contain the sheer thrill of what he was describing. "Countless portals are tearing open, one by one, vomiting forth blades of destruction one a harbinger of death, a testament to the overwhelming force that has descended upon your platoon!"

The grin on his face somehow expanded further as he began to pace, jerky movements with excitement real, contagious even. "Oh, glorious it is! The very firmament becomes a canvas of annihilation, the swords painting a masterpiece of ruin! This is the source of the attack! Not some petty skirmish or mortal squabble, but something far beyond our comprehension-a symphony of devastation played out across the heavens!"

His laughter bombed again, resounding across the camp like a macabre melody. Chris's shoulders straightened, and his wide eyes shot to the sky where Jolvuthiz pointed; his mind reeled from the weight of the claim.

Jabari didn't move. His gaze continued to lock with Jolvuthiz, the fire in his eyes a wordless counterpoint to the madman's ecstatic revelry. Whispering only a short sentence to himself from his mouth “Is this takemikazuchi's wrath?”

The wind ruffled Chris's brown hair as he glanced to the side, tilting his head slightly while locking an intense gaze on Jabari. His eyes widened in frustration. "Everyone is dying here because of you, Jabari! You're incompetent! If you're not going to do anything, then I will!" Chris exclaimed loudly.

Jolvuthiz tilted his head to the side, a sinister smile spreading across his face as the echoes of death reverberated around them. His eyes narrowed sharply. "I’m surprised, Chris," he said, his tone laced with mockery. "Blaming the deaths of our comrades on Jabari's incompetence? Did you really just say that? I may not always see eye to eye with Jabari, but he’s already ensured everyone was told to get to safety." His voice carried a biting edge as he delivered his criticism.

Jabari stepped forward, his boots thudding softly towards the bloodstained ground, the metallic tang of demise lingering within the air. The faint crackle of distant flames and the muffled groans of the wounded shaped a haunting backdrop. His hand, calloused from infinite battles, reached out with a planned slowness, the motion cutting via the anxiety like a blade.

His arm, muscled and constant, came to relaxation in front of Jolvuthiz, a silent barrier that demanded interest. The scent of sweat and burnt flesh mingled, heavy and acrid, with the sit back of coming near nightfall. Jabari’s voice, low and hard, carried a weight that appeared to press down at the very air.

"Let me handle this," he said, his tone calm but company, resonating with authority. His darkish eyes locked onto Jolvuthiz’s, a flicker of determination burning inside them.

The air was thick with the stench of blood and smoke, each breath feeling like a battle against the chaos swirling around them. Jabari let out a heavy sigh, his dark eyes locked on the distant horizon where Balisarda Sumernor’s castle loomed, a dark reminder of what lay ahead. “I’ve done everything I can to save those we still can,” he said, his voice laced with a steely determination. “But sometimes, sacrifices are part of the deal if we want to achieve something bigger.”

Jolvuthiz leaned in, a sharp, unkind smirk lighting up his face in the dim glow of the fire. “Exactly,” he hissed, his words dripping with a twisted kind of satisfaction. His breath was hot and carried a foul, rotten scent. “Lives are just pawns in this game. You should be grateful, Chris. Each loss brings us one step closer to winning.”

Chris clenched his fists, the rough dirt beneath him grinding against his boots. Frustration and despair twisted in his chest as he shot back, “And what kind of victory comes at this cost? We’ve got to figure out a better way!”

Jabari’s gaze bore into Chris, sharp and unforgiving. “There’s no ‘better way,’” he replied, cutting through Chris’s anger like a knife. “The only way to stop Balisarda Sumernor is to break through those castle walls. It’s the only plan that makes sense. But,” he added, his tone softening just a bit, “if we’re careful, we might save more lives than we lose.”

Chris frowned, confusion flickering across his face. “What do you mean?”

Leaning in closer, Jabari lowered his voice to a near whisper, as if the weight of his words demanded it. “Your ability, Chris. The force you can create with your hands. You can manipulate the air, creating shockwaves powerful enough to shatter stone, level defences, and clear the battlefield.”

Jolvuthiz let out a low, mocking laugh, his tone dripping with scorn. “A force of nature unleashed. Just think of the chaos you could unleash on the enemy’s stronghold.”

Ignoring him, Jabari remained focused. “Chris,” he said, urgency creeping into his voice. “Your power doesn’t just destroy—it can redirect the chaos. If you target those portals above Balisarda’s castle, you could collapse their formation. A single, well-aimed strike could take down the walls, disrupt their reinforcements, and give us a shot at ending this war.”

Chris’s heart raced, the weight of responsibility settling over him like a heavy cloak. His palms tingled as he envisioned the energy building between them, that invisible power he’d always had, capable of creating devastating air quakes with just a flick of his wrist. He hesitated, the enormity of the task pressing down on him. “That’s a huge ask,” he muttered, doubt creeping into his voice. “Do you really believe I can do it?”

Jabari stepped closer, his expression steady. “I’m not asking because I think you can,” he said firmly. “I’m asking because I know you can. You just need to focus, Chris. Channel everything you’ve got into this one moment. Together, we can turn this chaos into a chance for victory.”

The tension in Chris’s shoulders eased as determination began to replace the doubt clouding his mind. He took a deep breath, the cool night air mingling with the heat of the nearby flames. His fingers flexed, the faint hum of energy growing stronger as he readied himself.

“Alright,” Chris said, his voice firm. “I’ll do it. Let’s end this nightmare.”