Strength, Duality
Hours later that very same day, the pair reached the destination. Upon reaching it Cyrus almost cried out in surprise, not for how amazing or unique the destination was but rather because of how plain it turned out to be.
"A small watering hole? Really? I was expecting maybe a secret hidden outpost or a hidden guard squad of Cato's but this…. The old man must have chosen this place for a reason…The only thing I could guess is related to his magic. He has never shown off too much of his talent, but I do know that he has the ability to manipulate water essence…." Pondered Cyrus as he watched Cato then take out a blue crystal, the size of a fist. Cato walked over to the watering hole, knelt down next to it and began interacting with the crystal as it gave off a small glimmer of light as if being charged someway or how.
Cyrus watched Cato for but a moment in silence, before leading the camels to the watering hole and staking their reins into the ground. He then placed one hand on his gifted sword, the other holding his mask, while scanning the horizon for the incoming foe.
Not wanting to disappoint Cyrus, Mundus delivered the foe within the next hour. On the horizon a group of 20 men riding camels could be seen in the distance, all wearing bright white sand cloaks with the same emblem sewn onto their chests: A drawn short bow. Fast they approached, before stopping just a few dozen meters away from the two. One man got down from their camel, before approaching the two with his hands up in the air.
"Friends from afar, we come to offer a deal not to harm" said the approaching man with a perfect imperial accent.
"No harm? Curious thing you say when you bring such force, quickly state your intentions I have places to be" said Cato irritably.
The man, no doubt the chosen negotiator, was somewhat surprised by Cato's nonchalance but he didn't show much obvious sign of it on his face.
"We are here to offer employment for one such as yourself, we know you are a man of talent and our Sultan would love to have you at his side. Wealth and status, lands tied to your name, you will have it all so long as you pledge loyalty to our Sultan." Said the man graciously, as if offering the world to Cato.
"HAHAHAHAHA, your Sultan huh?" Cato mocked while guffawing. "Sultan here Sultan there, a Sultan is no rarer a thing than the sand that lay on the ground around us in this uncivilized land. Mere relics of a forgotten civilization, wasting away fighting over something even dogs within imperial borders would turn their noses at. Fool." With a flick of Cato's wrist and a flash of steel, the man was thus beheaded in one clean cut.
In the background, the allies of the now beheaded negotiator noticed the sign and with a hint of confusion began drawing their bows, no doubt wondering why the swordsman decided to fight against such impossible odds. Drawing their short bows they nocked their arrows and took aim, no doubt planning to take their time whittling away at the apparent master swordsman's stamina.
"It seems I will be moving the lesson on magic ahead of schedule boy" said Cato to Cyrus. "Not only that but behold the power of deduction at work, both sides in this conflict had been sounding the other out for days on end to provide the stage for the best conclusion. Alas, our foe has made the cardinal sin of an overindulgence of pride. Believing themselves to be the strongest force in the region, they cannot even comprehend what I am capable of thus leading themselves down a false path. Now, witness your first lesson on magic. Take up your sword and prepare to act with me, its kill or be killed."
Cyrus nodded at Cato and donned his black half mask for the first time. Wearing it, he began chanting in his mind a phrase he created using Cato's own words.
"I am a blade, a blade who knows no hesitation, a blade that will use the blood of my foes to sharpen itself"´
Slowly hypnotizing himself, his fears and doubts ebbed away only to be replaced by a cold and calculating calmness. Drawing his sword, Cyrus took a stance and waited for Cato.
With a distant yet loud sound in the ghastly quiet desert, nineteen arrows shot from their bows towards the two, their motions practiced and their aim true. As the wave of impending death approached, a blue screen of ice was quickly created in the path of each arrow. The arrows collided with the ice in mid air and were each reflected off one after the other.
Both Cyrus and his foes paused for a moment, no doubt one side in awe of such a feat and the other in shock as their supposed swordsman turned into a more terrifying foe instantly. Cyrus recovering far more quickly took, the magic as his signal and bolted towards the enemy with a speed unnatural for a boy of his age.
As he closed the distance, the enemy awoke from their momentary pause and began shooting once more. This time they targeted only Cyrus, but alas each and every time an arrow found itself on a path towards Cyrus a piece of ice would form thus saving him time and time again.
A spectator would surely marvel at the spectacle, of pieces of ice appearing and vanishing out of seemingly nothing acting as an invisible barrier that only showed itself when its charge was in mortal danger. Cyrus reached the line of camels in short time, with each enemy drawing their swords preparing to make advantage of their numbers to skewer the lad.
Making a rather informed decision, the group began to urge their camels to charge horizontally away from the incoming Cyrus, splitting into two groups. Reaching a quick burst of speed, they surely would have been able to outrun a boy of his age. It was at this moment, however, that Cato acted once more. He produced the crystal he had prepared earlier and threw it into the air. With a loud burst, the temperature of the entire battlefield noticeably reduced to a frigid air. With a quick outstretched palm, he yelled
"Hahaha, behold my new spell mortals: Icy hell!"
A large pulse of magic could be felt by even the least magically inclined at that moment as a prickling of the skin, as a sudden burst of fear and awe. The charging camels' feet were encased in ice, all nineteen of them simultaneously. Following the sudden loss of momentum, each of the riders were thrown off the camels backs onto the ground.
Their weapons flung from their grips, all of them dazed, with some slightly injured, and three breaking their neck immediately. Cato then drew his sword, and dashed towards the group of now 8 on the right while Cyrus reached the group of 8 on the left. At this point, Cyrus had reached the still dazed riders and quickly dispatched the closest two with a swift beheading.
"Two down, I feel nothing" Remarked Cyrus as he approached another three. One more was dispatched while still getting up, with the other two pulling out hidden daggers and leaping towards Cyrus in concert. Taking up his protectors sword stance, the inferior reach of the daggers had no chance of ever reaching their target. Cyrus pivoted to the left, impaling one enemy killing him instantly. He then used the body of his deceased foe as a weapon, pushing it towards his second foe knocking him onto the ground with its weight. In one deft motion, another head was removed from its body.
"Five down, three left. Human life, so fragile" thought Cyrus, rather cryptically.
Looking up, he saw the final three enemies turning towards him with their found swords. From his enemies' point of view, they saw a young boy…no, young man now, with long brown hair wrapped in his sand cloak, his hood having fallen off during the exertion. What was once a pure white cloak was now dyed dark red with the blood of their companions. When they looked into the man's eyes, they saw nothing. No emotion, no bloodlust, no fervor… for a moment they saw a vision of a hooded man with a scythe, readying to reap their very lives.
When Cyrus looked back at them, his eyes glowed with a red hue that when coupled with his black mask made him look like a chaotic demon from the nether. Already visibly shaken from recent events, and with the added pressure of an unfathomably powerful mage the men were already on the verge of a total breakdown.
Noticing this, Cyrus recalled a page out of his military doctrine textbook…of an age-old stratagem employed once in the past.
Acting out a one man play, Cyrus let forth an eerie low sounding laugh that slowly turned into a maniacal rave. He wiped the blood off his sword with his hand, and then wiped it on his mask turning it into a mix of red and black. He then took a stance with his sword and said with a low yet clear voice,
"Come, face your death"
With such actions done, the already shaken men were now convinced that Cyrus was in fact a demon walking the mortal plane once more. Dropping their swords, they turned and ran while crying out in utter terror.
Upon seeing his act work out as expected, Cyrus turned his attention to the other half of the battlefield. Ready to assist his mentor if required, despite the sheer exhaustion that was slowly starting to settle in as the adrenaline started to ebb away. Looking over, he saw Cato sitting on a stool looking right back at Cyrus with a look of approval.
Behind him were the corpses of six men, all killed with a single slash. The last two were frozen solid, slowly suffocating inside the block of ice even in that very moment. Cato gestured towards the three fleeing men, each falling to the ground with their feet encased in ice. With that, the battle was concluded.