Trap

Drafts of air occasionally slipped into the cave, rustling the leaves and branches.

Deep in the heart of the Peklo Forest, one of the main roads stretched through the wilderness, carved out by the three factions early on.

It connected all three settlements, with smaller trails branching off in various directions.

Along this road, an escort of Iron Hearts, easily recognized by the black bandanas tied around their foreheads, was traveling eastward, towards the newly acquired Kings Hand camp. This convoy was a relief squadron of sorts.

After Roof's mismanagement, much of the food in the eastern camp was gone, and the Kings Hand hadn't bothered with farming. Raven had been forced to send supplies to his brother Crow, keeping the camp operational.

"Hey, did you hear? Apparently, Ghost sent a message to Captain Crow. Said something about the camp being attacked," a young Iron Heart, one of the youngest to have been kidnapped and brought to the Peklo Forest, asked his senior. 

The two marched at the back of the convoy, where a makeshift cart was being pulled by four sweaty teens, who took turns with another group of four to haul the supplies.

The senior, a broad-shouldered youth with a strong jaw, dismissed the younger one's concerns with a wave. 

"You worry too much, Eme. Ghost is in the southern part of the forest. He won't be anywhere near here. Besides, from what I've heard, Raven plans to take the southern forest first before dealing with the Queen's Hand. Ghost won't stand a chance against an army. I can tell you that much."

"I heard he took down the whole camp by himself when he fought Roof big brother!" Eme replied nervously, casting frequent glances into the dark trees surrounding them.

"That's just a rumor, Eme. You're too gullible. He probably waited until everyone was asleep and caught Roof off guard before running away. In a head to head only Captain Crow could take Roof on. Heard this Ghost is probably another peasant like us, he won't be able to defeat a noble in a fair fight I'll tell you that much."

Eme wanted to say more, but the stern looks from the others in the convoy urged him to stay quiet. No one needed negativity during a supply run.

The forest already had a way of playing tricks on their minds, filling the air with strange noises and shadows that seemed to move. The last thing they needed were ghost stories to fuel their anxiety.

Feeling dejected, Eme lowered his head and continued marching. But as he glanced to the side of the trail, his breath suddenly caught in his throat.

***

They had been waiting for a while, but now the convoy was in sight.

Aziz crouched on a sturdy branch, concealed within the foliage of the treetops, his keen eyes tracking the movement below.

The convoy was approaching the center of the forest, soon to veer east toward the Kings Hand, just as Roof had told them.

The convoy's schedule was meant to be top secret, but Roof, the former Star King, had once had dealings with the Iron Hearts. He knew their habits.

They certainly wouldn't expect the dethroned Star King to join hands with Ghost, the one who had played a part in his downfall.

From his vantage point, Aziz could faintly hear snippets of conversation from the convoy below. Captain Crow's name was repeated often, along with mentions of the "Star King."

It seemed clear now—the Iron Hearts had taken control. The image of the boy with the club strapped to his back flashed in Aziz's mind, remembering his first time seeing Crow. 

Had the Iron Hearts planned this all along? 

They had remained neutral at the start of the test, steering clear of early conflicts, but now their true colors were showing.

A rustle in the nearby undergrowth caught Aziz's attention. His sharp ears picked up the movement instantly. His eyes darted to the roadside where Marcus was hiding, tucked into a bush as the end of the convoy passed by.

For a moment, Aziz thought Marcus was about to be exposed by a young Iron Heart glancing in his direction, but a quick shout from a companion drew the boy's attention back to the convoy. A close call.

The convoy, sixteen strong, marched onward. The black bandanas tied around their heads marked them as Iron Hearts.

Two teams of four hauled carts laden with supplies, their faces slick with sweat as they struggled under the load.

For Aziz and Marcus to succeed, they would need to cut their numbers in half, if not more.

Aziz's gaze flicked to Marcus in the dense undergrowth, watching for the signal. Marcus raised two fingers, the other hand pointing to the front of the convey.

Two martial artists.

What level? Unknown.

It didn't matter.

Their plan was already in motion.

Aziz began to count down silently as the convoy neared his position.

5.

The Iron Hearts trudged forward, the sounds of boots crunching against the forest path mingling with the occasional murmur of conversation. The cart wheels groaned under the weight of the supplies.

4.

The canopy of trees overhead cast long shadows on the road, the thick undergrowth pressing in on both sides of the trail. None of the Iron Hearts suspected anything, their eyes fixed forward.

3.

The lead members of the convoy marched confidently, their bandanas bobbing in rhythm as they moved. One of them laughed at a joke, oblivious to the danger beneath their feet.

2.

Aziz's pulse quickened. The trap was set. Just a few more steps.

1.

The ground beneath the first three collapsed with a loud crack, and they fell into a deep pit. There was no time for them to scream.

Within seconds, writhing shadows emerged from the darkness—black-deaths. The venomous snakes struck with lethal precision, their fangs sinking deep into flesh.

The convulsions began immediately as the poison worked its way through their bodies, paralyzing them with death's icy grip.

Their comrades shouted in panic, but it was already too late. The first three were dead within moments, their bodies lying twisted and motionless at the bottom of the pit.

The forest fell into a tense silence, broken only by the panicked yells of the remaining Iron Hearts as they scrambled to react, unaware that they had just walked into the jaws of a trap far deadlier than they had imagined.

Jumping down, Aziz landed in the midst of the chaos, his body dissolving into the shadows as he Shadow Stepped, becoming invisible to the naked eye. At the same moment, Marcus darted out from the underbrush behind the convoy.

He moved swiftly, almost soundlessly, his hand wrapping around the neck of the smallest boy at the back. The boy hadn't even turned to see what was happening before Marcus snapped his neck with a swift, practiced motion.

The lifeless body crumpled to the ground.

His companion, wide-eyed at the sight, swung out wildly with a sharpened sword, panic overtaking him, screaming a name,"Eme! No!"

Raven's sponsor isn't holding back, thought Aziz, catching the gleam of iron in the torchlight. 

He stepped in closer, observing from the shadows as the remaining Iron Hearts turned their attention from the pit, abandoning any attempt to rescue their fallen comrades.

Rage fueled their actions now. They charged blindly at Marcus, too consumed with fury to think clearly.

There's no true leader here, Aziz noted, the captain of the convoy probably dead from the earlier trap. Too easy.

He emerged from the shadows as he stepped into the circle of light cast by their torches. The month of preparation had been worth it.

This trap—the pit they had painstakingly dug—had worked perfectly, and now it was time to finish the job. Roof had provided the timing, the convoy routes, they needed to pull this off. But Aziz hadn't spent the past weeks just digging.

Roof had also begun instructing him in Physical martial arts, teaching him the sword. Now it was time to put those lessons to the test.

With fluid grace, Aziz drew the sword he had taken from Roof, the blade gleaming in the firelight. He moved swiftly, darting behind one of the charging soldiers.

With one precise strike, he drove the blade through the boy's back, the iron biting deep. The Iron Heart let out a short gasp before collapsing in a heap at Aziz's feet.

His mastership of the sword was still lacking, having to use Shadow Grasp, using the shadows of the tree to grip them in place as he charged forward, the Iron Heart men too late to realize they couldn't move.

Marcus wasn't far behind.

As one of the attackers closed in, Marcus sidestepped the strike, using the enemy's momentum against him.

With a sharp pivot, he elbowed the boy in the throat, knocking the wind out of him before delivering a finishing blow to his chest, sending him crashing into the dirt.

Aziz remained calm in the fray, his mind detached from the violence. He had learned early on that the first to attack would be the experienced fighters, the ones who had seen battle before. 

Take them out first, Aziz reminded himself, and the rest will break.

And just as he predicted, when the most capable among them fell, the others hesitated. Fear crept into their eyes, replacing the earlier rage. A few glanced nervously at each other before turning and bolting into the trees.

Aziz smirked to himself. Five of them. Exactly as expected.

From across the battlefield, Marcus cursed under his breath, watching the retreating figures. "We did it. Divines above we actually did it!"

Aziz chuckled lightly, wiping his blade clean on the tunic of one of the fallen. 

"The job isn't done Little Marcus," Aziz replied, quickly coming back down from the euphoria. No, we are nowhere near done.

The fleeing Iron Hearts yelled frantically as they disappeared into the dense forest, their voices echoing back. "It's him! It's the Ghost!"

The name echoed in the dark like a whisper carried on the wind. Aziz's reputation was growing. Soon enough, the entire forest would fear the shadows and the ground beneath them.