The mysterious girl with a fire claw

986 AD Coimbra, Kingdom of Leon.

The stench of death and fire was still strong throughout the area, hundreds of unburied corpses of peasants, workers and people who tried to defend their city, now rotting on the outskirts of Coimbra, which lay in ruins.

The wall was destroyed, and the Moorish soldiers entered the city looting and looking for women and children to enslave them; since their leader, the warlord Almanzor, allowed them to choose them as payment for their services.

Salamanca, Cuéllar and even Barcelona had been destroyed because his terrible actions. For the Spanish, Al-Mansur, or Almanzor, as the Spanish knew him, was the representation of the end of time, the Beast that the book of Revelation warned.

The Muslims arrived from the Maghreb desert in North Africa more than two centuries ago and they had managed to seize almost the entire Iberian Peninsula. Certainly, the Christian kingdoms had made gains and victories since then, but they were counted against the might of the now called Caliphate of Córdoba in the south, which was generally seen as one of the most advanced civilizations in the world. It was a shame that its military tactics always ended in such a vile and shameful way.

The soldiers dressed elegantly, wearing white, blue and ocher tunics, turbans and zaragüelles. They were armed with scimitars, spears, bows, triangular shields, and mails, which were far superior to the few defenses the men could use to protect themselves, many of them tools of the field. Since the Kingdom of León was suffering from constant fighting against Córdoba, there were few soldiers to defend their cities, and, technically, they left the city of Coimbra to its fate.

The Moorish leader, Almanzor, who was slightly overweight, arrived in the city mounted on an elegant white steed, accompanied by his personal guards, who all wore conical helmets that covered part of their eyes, spears, and very elegant white tunics. Al-Mansur himself was dressed in a turban and a red robe, carrying on his left side a golden scimitar with the face of some pagan god, which he said was a djinn, mythological creatures from Nabataean folklore that were mischievous spirits. that tormented humanity.

Almanzor gave the order to his soldiers to make way for him, since he was heading to the Coimbra cathedral, which stood at the top of the city, to thank Allah for his victory. Almanzor's elite soldiers, who accompanied him as if they were his shadow, viewed with contempt the uncivilized attitudes of the common soldiers in treating the people who cried out for their lives and knelt to avoid being killed or, in the case of women and children, sexually abused.

—They are animals, but we need them to achieve our goal of seizing this entire peninsula— the Moorish leader previously told his elite soldiers.

Behind Almanzor, an imam and a retinue of women blindfolded in dark robes accompanied him.

The crows began to arrive to devour the corpses that were outside the city. Several felt into the river, which turned red from the enormous amount of blood that spilled on the battlefield. The women inside the city cried and cried out for mercy so that they could give a Christian burial to their husbands, who died defending the city, but only ended up beaten and abused by Almanzor's soldiers.

In the center of the city, the soldiers began to round up the people who survived, mostly women, children, and the elderly. The soldiers tore their clothes and put shackles on their hands to proceed to take them out of the city as, now, slaves.

Coimbra was next to a river called Munda, which served as a kind of barrier to prevent invasions. The soldiers from Córdoba entered the city using the bridge that was over said river and served as an access gate to it. Some soldiers were guarding the bridge; however, these soldiers were Berbers, who were originally from North Africa. They were generally seen as inferior to the Arabs and had dirtier and more humiliating jobs. As expected, they kept watch while the Arab soldiers could steal loot and choose slaves. Berbers could not participate in any of these activities.

—They must be having a lot of fun, with all the scandal that sounds up here— one soldier commented to another in Berber.

—Someday, Allah willing, we will be at the top of this empire. Don't forget that. He just bows his head and continues without complaining— the other soldier replied in Berber.

The Berber soldiers, unlike the Arabs, did not wear chain mail, only a gray tunic and a white turban. They held a spear to defend themselves, and as a particular feature, their skin was darker than the rest of the Arabs.

At that moment, a noise like a wind was heard, which made the soldiers turn to the opposite side of the city, but they saw nothing. Strange, they returned their gaze to the bridge, when, unable to communicate with each other, they fell dead one by one, without even being able to realize what happened.

The soldiers who were in front of the town caught a glimpse of a lone man standing on the bridge of the Munda River. He couldn't be made out because of the Spanish summer heat, but they could see that the subject was wearing a brown cloak, which he held in his left hand and covered his head like a hood fluttering in the dusty wind. The shine of a sword that he carried in his right hand was also notable.

—Hey kid! What business do you have in this place?— a guard yelled in Arabic, holding a blonde girl by the hair, who sneaked out of the city to look for her father, but the soldiers caught her to abuse her.

—This city has fallen into the hands of the great Al-Mansur, get out or we will kill you— the soldier continued shouting.

But the lad was completely immobile, as if he not heard or had completely ignored him.

—Don't you understand Arabic, you Christian jerk?— the guard yelled at him while the other men laughed when they saw that said lad seemed to challenge them.

—Well, we warned you brat— the guard yelled as he released the girl and reached for his scimitar to fight the lad, when suddenly, before the horrified eyes of the soldiers, the lad disappeared like lightning.

Then a guard screamed in horror, as the arm of the soldier who yelled at the lad was now circling the skies. He still wielded the scimitar with which he threatened the caped youth.

Incredulous, the men looked behind them as the arm fell to the ground and the guard screamed in pain from the wound caused. The young man was right behind them with his sword drawn. The soldiers instinctively rushed to attack him, but the lad turned around and could see them with green eyes full of anger that could be seen from his face, and in moments, the soldiers fell to the ground, some decapitated and others cut in half.

The girl that the soldiers kidnapped was looking with surprise and tears at the young man who killed her captors.

—Run away— the lad said in old Galician to the little girl who was wearing a blue dress that the soldiers tried to tear. —I'm going to finish off all these bastards.—

The girl, still unable to formulate a coherent sentence due to the trauma she suffered, nodded between sobs and sobs and ran from there.

The young man threw off his cloak and ran at inhuman speed towards the destroyed walls of Coimbra, the soldiers could not even notice the attack when dozens of them began to fall to pieces. The Moorish guards who began to discover that they were under attack, began to alert the army to draw their weapons, it seemed that a group of enemy soldiers were breaking into the ruins of the city.

Soldiers began to come out with their scimitars and bows to defend the ruins of the city, but it was useless, their heads, arms and insides were raining on the city. The Moors glimpsed the young man with green eyes full of anger raising his sword, now red from the enormous amount of blood he had spilled.

—It's him, it's him, attack him— the soldiers shouted in Arabic, unable to do anything to defend themselves. The few who could hit the lad with their swords watched with horror as they broke, as the arrows bounced as if his body were made of steel despite not bringing any type of mail or armor with him.

When the lad reached the main square of the town, he began to run towards a nearby house and opened the door. Inside, lay the corpse of a woman with arrows pierced through her back, he was holding a child, who had also been hit by the attacks. The young man leaned down as he touched the woman's face and closed her eyes. Slowly, he got to his feet and saw how, on the lintel of the door, there were some soldiers with bows aiming at him.

In old Galician, the young man told them:

—I won't let you dirty her anymore, beasts—, and immediately, the heads of the soldiers fell rolling on the ground while the lad drew his sword again. He left the house and turned to see that there was a soldier scared to death.

—Where is your leader? That Almanzor guy —, he asked in old Galician.

Nervously, the soldier, who, although he did not understand Galician, was able to identify the word Almanzor and, trembling, pointed towards the Coimbra hill where the city's modest cathedral stood. The lad turned to see the building and his eyes shone a very intense green color, while the soldier fell dead to the ground with his head separated from his inert body.

Electric bolts began to emanate from the young man's body and a slight tremor was felt throughout the area. Below the lad, a crack appeared in the ground, which was caused by his enormous power.

In a river of corpses and the blood of Moorish soldiers, the lad arrived in front of the Coimbra cathedral and shouted at the top of his lungs:

—Almanzor, come out at once so I can kill you, son of a bitch!—

The soldiers came out and tried to attack him with their arrows, to no avail. Stones, arrows, and even boiling oil that had served to repel his attacks earlier were thrown at the young man, but only managed to damage his clothing. The lad was completely unharmed.

Coimbra Cathedral was not an exceptionally large building. Historically, it had served as an episcopal headquarters since the time of the ancient Romans. This building was quite old and somewhat neglected. The yellowed walls were cracked and the statues of saints on the walls were already worn. A lofty cedar door stood between the young man and the interior of said holy building, though the wood was already moldy and somewhat rotten.

—My mother, you killed my mother and my friends, you filthy Moorish piece of shit. Come out at once if you are so brave and defend yourself with your sword— the lad yelled.

The soldiers panicked and began to flee.

—A genius!— they shouted as they broke ranks. —By Allah, we are attacked by a monster, a demon! We have angered a djinn!—

Meanwhile, Al-Mansur, who was praying together with his elite soldiers and trusted staff inside the second hall of the cathedral, was abruptly interrupted by soldiers warning that they were under attack.

—Then stop them! How many are there?— Al-Mansur asked furiously.

—O...o...one sir—, the soldier who alerted him answered nervously.

—What?! Just one, you drunken piece of idiots. How is one person defeating them?—

—He's a monster, sir...a djinn— replied the soldier.

—A djinn?! Are you an idiot or what?— the warlord responded angrily.

—Go and stop him— and he gestured to his elite soldiers, —You guys protect my life, by Allah I'm going to crush this guy.—

The lad, seeing that the Moorish conqueror did not appear, furious, kicked the main door of the cathedral and broke it as if it were made of mud. It should be noted that said door was more than three meters high and weighed more than two hundred kilos.

—Almanzor!— the young man continued to shout as if he were possessed by a demon while the soldiers began to be almost non-existent, either because they had died or had fled believing that a demon was attacking them.

Al-Mansur, quick, brought his retinue of exorcists and furiously, pulled the leader of this group by her arm.

—Send that genius to the abyss, right now!— he yelled at the woman who was wearing an outfit that covered part of her face with a veil.

—My lord— the woman replied. —We have never seen a physical manifestation of a djinn; they only possess humans, and we exorcise them. Djinns do not usually manifest in a physical way, unless...—.

The enraged Moorish conqueror struck the exorcist woman with his scepter, breaking two of her teeth and making her spit blood as she fell to the ground.

—I didn't ask you for explanations, I told you: DO IT!— the Moorish leader responded angrily. —If you can't, I'll behead you right here— he continued with his threat.

But it was too late, the second door that separated the lad from the warlord in front of them collapsed under a crash and tremor. The young man was standing in the hole in the lintel created by himself. His green eyes were filled with anger and hatred, like a bear whose cubs have been killed; and her straight brown hair flew in the wind. His slightly brown skin was completely drenched in the blood of the soldiers he had slain, just like his sword, now crimson red. The lad stared at Al-Mansur as he made a crazy, psychopathic face.

The huge and long room where Almanzor was found was in complete darkness, only a few short beams of light entered directly from the small holes that served as windows. The room smelled musty and musty. The benches that were in said room were breaking and in very poor condition. In the background, on the altar, Almanzor had ordered the removal of the crucifix and his men had placed letters in Arabic that meant: —Allah.— In addition, Persian rugs that Almanzor and his men had brought were still on the floor. On these, they bowed in the direction of Mecca to pray.

—So you are the leader of the Moors?— asked the young man as he slowly approached with a murderous look towards the warlord.

—Who are you?— Al-Mansur asked the lad in Galician as he fell to the ground scared to death.

The elite soldiers of the Moorish conqueror quickly tried to attack him, but like lightning, they could only see their heads turn in the sky and fall next to the warlord who was shivering in fear.

—Exorcise him, exorcise him!— she yelled and yelled, but the women were paralyzed with terror, at the same time, unable to move a single muscle.

—Who am I? Who am I, you ask?— replied the lad with a nervous voice full of fatal wishes. —In hell you won't need to know that, you son of a bitch—, and suddenly, the lad disappeared before the Moor's eyes, knowing that his end had come.

But when the lad crossed the neck of the Moorish leader with his sword, he realized that it had no effect. The sword passed through him just as a ray of light would pass through. The lad tried and tried to cut it, but nothing was happening.

Looking closer, it seemed that Almanzor had frozen as if he were in a painting, and not only him, but also the female exorcists behind him. Likewise, the whole environment looked as if some colors had been lost and as if a blue-gray hue had taken over the range of colors around it.

—What's wrong? What the hell did those witches do?— the lad yelled furiously as he continued to unsuccessfully try to kill the warlord.

The young man stepped away and saw everything around him, that grayish blue color covered the entire environment. Everything was paralyzed, absolutely everything, even stones and drops of blood that were falling, were now suspended in the air. The furious lad withdrew walking backwards with a look of uncertainty when he saw this phenomenon. All this was undoubtedly caused by the witches who were with the Moorish conqueror. Then he heard a woman's voice behind him.

—What are you doing? What god commissioned you to take the lives of these men? Answer!— the girl's voice behind the young man spoke imperatively with a hint of annoyance.

The lad clung to his bloody sword and turned to see her. She was a dark-haired woman with her face covered with a blue-green tunic, similar to how Berber women dressed, she could only glimpse her very beautiful and powerful amber eyes and a red curl on her forehead. She was wearing, under her tunic, a bluish blouse, a purple skirt and green zaragüelles with red slippers. She was standing just inside the doorway that the lad had created to enter the room.

—Answer, who are you? What is your rank? Don't you know that this region is under my jurisdiction?—, the girl continued to question the young man with an impatient look.

—I came to kill these guys because they killed my mother and my friends. Don't get in the way and undo your magic, witch— the young man hissed furiously. —I don't attack or hit women so, I won't hurt you, undo your magic— the bloodstained lad continued to tell her.

—Your mother? What the hell are you talking about?— the woman asked with an incredulous look.

—Your personal business take them out of the human world, lad— the woman continued. —If you don't move from here, I'm going to have to attack you to interrogate you.—

The young man smiled sarcastically.

—No one has ever been able to make me draw a single drop of blood, less a girl can, even though she is a very powerful witch— he said.

—Wow, how self-confident you are little one, but your divine level is so low, you don't stand a chance against me— the girl told him as she started to move and showed her palm.

At that time, her nails grew like a cat's nails, but said nails looked like they were on fire. The lad saw that uncertainly.

—Okay kid, last warning. If you don't tell me who sent you or who you are, I'll have to ask your body— the girl said in a threatening manner as she continued walking slowly towards the young man.

—I already told you, I don't want problems with a girl— replied the furious lad.

The young man was still speaking when he realized that his right arm had disappeared. The girl was behind her with her claw still up and then she kept her claws away from her. The lad began to see everything blurry and in moments he lost consciousness.