-49-

The dreaded battle against the Lord of Death and his orcs will begin. Not only must the Prontera forces defend against them, the destruction of the church must also be taken into account. The capital city had to muster all they had and fight even though it may still spell doom in the end.

A lone knight who looked defenceless stared ahead of him. He kept a calm composure although the place was unusually silent; it might have been a mistake to come here. In spite of the possibility that he would be ripped to shreds by the minotaur-like monstrosities, the knight stepped forward with a straight face. Nothing of fear or hesitation was displayed. He was driven to madness; the minotaurs should be the ones fearing him instead.

Then, just a few feet away from him, a lone minotaur-like creature appeared. The challenger was undeniably an enormous behemoth; he had two curved horns jutting past his head, and stood on two thick hooves. He had fiery red hide, his eyes of equal shade of redness. The giant, standing at least ten foot in height, wore a large nose ring. In both hands carried a powerful stone hammer that could crush a diamond into countless smithereens. The knight knew immediately what this behemoth was. They were called Majorous.

From behind the Majorous came about a dozen other minotaurs, but they had brown hides instead. Being the minions of Majorous, those brown ones were called Minorous. No matter how huge and imposing they were, the knight still did not back away. Instead, he unsheathed his black blade, and strode towards the Majorous who still had not made a move.

The Abyss Knight was not a fool either. If he came too close the Majorous, who was waiting for the charge to meet, the brown minions would interfere with a dozen hammers crushing down on him. They did not believe in individual duels; they fought together as a group. The Majorous did not have to question the knight, he would just let him understand the consequences himself of it by the time he struck.

Things went awry for the minotaurs. They had relied too much on their assumption, and therefore their downfall could not have come any sooner. Abyss waved his sword in an arc, and a wave of darkness swept the group of minotaurs, including the leader, away to the wall. The clocks around them ticked furiously as the red leader stood up, a shocked expression etched deep in his face. Taking his hammer, he lumbered towards Abyss with the weapon held high overhead.

Since he was down to one opponent, Abyss wasted no more of his powers to unleash another dark wave. Things were made so much easier for him, the Majorous could might as well be an object of amusement for him. Abyss went down and cleverly rolled over to the back of the red minotaur, jabbing the end of his black sword into one hoof. The behemoth fell, howling for the rest of his minions for help. Now that the Majorous was disabled for the moment, Abyss turned and raised his sword for another wave of darkness, but those brown minions had already scampered off. They clearly feared the knight for beating them down in one stroke of the sword, and wisely ran off to avoid being hit the second time.

Abyss went over to the injured Majorous. Directing his blade to the wound on the hoof, the minotaur thought that the knight was readying the death strike. He closed his eyes for some time, but nothing hit him. The sword was still poised at the hoof, yet Abyss did not attack. Surprisingly, black energies flowed from the sword and into the wound. The Majorous winced as the wound closed, then the flow of the black energy stopped immediately. The red minotaur stared in disbelieve.

"What is this…" the Majorous rumbled.

Abyss kept silent for a moment. Before he decided to speak of his intensions, he inserted the sword back into the scabbard.

"Come under me, and I will lead you minotaurs to greatness."

The Majorous was sceptical. But he continued listening to the ebony knight nonetheless.

"Isn't what you suffered enough evidence?" Abyss continued. "Defy me, minotaur, nothing can save you."

The red behemoth sniffed loudly, then stood up. He towered over the knight, yet he was powerless against him.

"What we do?"

"Rally whatever minions that ran away and everything else in this dank basement. As of this moment, you will fight for me. We have much to accomplish today."

The Majorous nodded almost reluctantly, then asked one last question.

"Where we go?"

Abyss sneered, then opened a shimmering portal that would lead him to the opening of the Clock Tower of Al De Baran.

"Prontera…"

The ebony knight noticed the startled look on the bestial face, but he could care less about his level of confidence and obvious doubts. Under his command and guidance, none of them would falter. Giving the behemoth one last look of warning, the portal closed instantaneously as soon as Abyss stepped through it.

-

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The first rays of light shone throughout Rune-Midgard, and the Prontera troops were already stationed outside the city. This was a pleasant sight to many; at least that meant that the men were well prepared. Perhaps the only ones who flustered were the two warlords and the commanders, who had much arrangement to tend to.

Most of the troops were assigned to the west gate. It was rather obvious that the orcs would come through the west gate, since the orc camp lay far west from Geffen. It pained the warlords that some had to be posted to the south gate from previous experiences, and those numbers at the west were decreased. Still, they could not risk baring the south gate free for breaching.

As usual, the forefront of the army consisted of foot soldiers, and few lines back from them stood the mounted knights. Though they only added up to a meagre two hundred excluding the reinforcements from St Caprina, the determined look on their faces betrayed any misgivings they had. Priests and acolytes were grouped at the back of the main force, ready to provide immediate medical care. Monks stood side by side with the foot soldiers, revising for the last time the chain of martial arts they planned to unleash.

Atop the repaired walls were a line of hunters. The constructors had managed to design the top of the walls such that the hunters were ensured further safety, and the risk of being hit by orc marksmen was reduced now that they had realized the indispensability of hunters. Until now, barely twenty hunters were recruited into the army. And of course, the difference this time had to be the launchers built by the warlords' very own band of warriors. The nozzles were painted the same colour as the walls to hide it before the orcs discovered it.

"It doesn't matter about the plagiarising part, right? What matters is that, we give it our best shot," the sub-commander of the foot soldiers spoke to Larzen.

The tall warlord was thoughtful for a while. Then, as if coming to a decision, he snapped his fingers.

"I'll think about it."

"What?" the sub-commander frowned. "But sir, what's there to think about? I'm afraid we do not have even a mere minute's grace to think!"

"Hmm," Larzen rubbed his chin. "I'll think about it."

The sub-commander let out a long breath of disappointment, and retreated back to his position. Larzen followed the man, then laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Actually we could though… so hurry before Smith's gonna find out."

Larzen winked at the sub-commander. The man's eyes went wide open. Saying his thanks, the sub-commander yelled to his troops. About two dozen swordsmen and knights marched out of their current positions near the standard, and gave their sub-commander a salute.

"Maybe some of you are still unaware of this, but the Prontera army has a serious shortage of hunters," he spoke loudly with a straight face. "I trust you all are well-trained with spears, and you are therefore re-assigned to the walls."

One knight stepped forward in respect, and gave another salute before asking a question.

"May I ask –"

"The group of you will fight from range with spears. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sub-commander Buonor!" the group replied in a synchronized manner.

Sheathing their drawn swords, they proceeded to the walls. Those behind the group who left filled the gap. Sub-commander Buonor then returned to the front of his troops, and continued issuing orders from where he had left off. The south gate was once again guarded by the Fiendbanes, but with a few absent. The launchers at the west had to be operated from the workshop basement after all. Before the break of dawn, Larzen had already gained a huge supply of acid and flame bottles to be released from the launchers. However, that did not guarantee a victory. Nor did it ensure a total success.

Yes, the new weapon looked impressive, that adding to the defenders' arsenal. But who knows if it went awry somehow? After all this was the very first time they were putting it to official use.

The Fiendbanes took their place in another ambush. A platoon of knights stood just outside the south gate, together with the alchemist, Piffy. Standing at the front and leading the men was the knight with two swords, Cerberus. Although they would be heavily outnumbered again as expected, they had the devious Fiendbane's to fall back on. They could only hope that whoever their leader was, he did not concentrate his assault on the south gate. What made up their greatest worry though, was the fact that men might be barrelled over by boulders. The orcs had put their catapult systems into action, yet they had nothing better to offer.

Lord Stratza of the settlement St Caprina understood the importance of the church very well. Despite sending over a hundred of monks, the lord had promised to help suppress any northern assaults, if that, to prevent the destruction of the church. While the grand church lay at the northern corner of Prontera, who knew if the attacks that was likely to come from the west and the south were means to divert the host's attention? This time, many were forced to depend on the sacred powers of the church to help them survive this ordeal. As if the priests themselves shared similar notions, they hardly stopped praying till the break of dawn. When a horn to summon the forces blared, they reluctantly gathered themselves back to their feet from long hours of kneeling.

"So what if we have more or less thirty men? So what if the orcs come on us with over double, triple, or quadruple our force? Despair not, for the very brink of Rune-Midgard's existence lies in the balance," Cerberus shouted to his phalanx of knights given to him as requested. "If you do not fight in the name of your king, at least do it for yourselves and your loved ones."

The men gave a roar, including the alchemist. Cerberus then eyed each men, gesturing to them to make whatever preparations they needed. Turning back to the horizon which was going to be filled with many hulking figures, he prayed silently to whichever god who happened to hear it.

From the back of the platoon stepped out an alchemist. Carrying his new buster axe proudly, he approached the pensive knight.

"Whaccha thinkin'?"

Cerberus, who was staring across the blue morning sky, shifted his gaze to his friend beside him.

"This may be the very last chance we speak to each other, my friend. I have much to do, I can't die in this battle."

"The men see you as their leader, lad. You don't sound as confident now back when you spoke to them," Piffy observed, jerking a thumb behind him.

The knight crossed his arms over his chest and let out a long exhale.

"I still want to free Cranius from his madness and prejudice. I still want to see the lot of us again. And I still want to see… the ceremony," he spoke the last line with much bitterness in his tone.

Piffy shook his head sadly. Cerberus could not tell if it was because of the overwhelming odds against them, or his speech. When the alchemist started to speak again, the dreaded sound reverberated throughout Prontera. Every warrior straightened up, with their swords drawn to answer the blare of a battle horn. Standards were raised high, while the army was closely locked together in a formation to prevent breaching of ranks. The hunters had already sighted the very first sign of orcs from afar, before scouts ran back for a confirmation. Dark clouds began to expand throughout the darkening skies, matching the sullen mood of the war. The orc invasion had begun.

-

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Many people passed a cursory glance at a blue pillar that materialized. A young boy, judging by his brownish tabard and the devious look on his face, was no doubt a thief. Unfortunately for him, he had walked into the spot just in time when a portal opened, and someone from within fell on top of him. The two fell and rolled off, before two more foreign figures stepped out of it.

"What the hell do you think I am!? Your fall-breaker?" the thief, barely seventeen, snapped at the rogue who fell onto him.

In between his speech though, he had sneaked a dagger out from his side and pointed it in the rogue's gut.

"Take out all of it, before I turn nasty," the boy threatened.

The rogue merely laughed as she continued examining the boy's face. A black figure from behind her wanted to interfere, but she held up a hand to indicate that she was able to handle this boy. The air was rather hazy, and the sandy city made breathing ever more difficult. But who could complain, since Morroc had to be located in the middle of a desert of all places.

"Is that you, Pickie?" the rogue asked calmly although she was held at knife-point. "That's not the way to pick zeny, boy. And you're too slow, if you don't mind me."

The boy frowned deeply, but he did not withdraw the dagger.

"What Pickie? Don't address me as such like you've known me for centuries!"

"Are the sands worsening your sight? Don't you recognize me? Or did you left A-S-S?" the rogue talked quickly.

From behind her another female came forward, squatting beside the rogue. The boy eyed her warily, then looked further back to a black robed figure. The newcomer tugged at the rogue's arm.

"What is that? We should get away from this boy, there is something more urgent than this, certainly!"

The rogue grinned to calm her down, not at all caring for the knife still poised at her gut.

"It stands for Association of Sneaky Slayers."

"What? Who in his madness came up with this…"

The female, dressed in a priestess dress, threw a baffled glance at the rogue. But the latter only turned her attention back to the boy. The rogue then pushed back her red hair as if to allow better recognition.

"It's me, Lea."

The deep frown on the boy's face never seemed to leave. Slowly, he recovered his dagger and inserted it back into his side. He ran a hand through his messy hair and stood up.

"You know them?"

The rogue, Lea as she called, went back to her feet. She gave a laugh as though the boy had asked a foolish question.

"Why not? Since I already know your name, I must know A-S-S, kid!"

"I'm not Pickie!" the boy insisted. "What do you want from me?"

"Did you all shift? Or is it still down the same old smelly alley?" the rogue inquired with amusement.

For once, the boy's brows parted with the disappearance of the frown. He looked at the rogue for a little while more, still doubtful of her intensions. The black robed figure behind them all along suddenly approached with clear impatience. The priestess held a blank look, for she had not the slightest idea of what was happening.

"Fine, speak to Invus yourself," the boy said. "I'm heading back anyway."

The young thief spun from them and walked away from the square. The three of them had to keep a very close distance from the boy, for the exit from the square required a lot of effort. Large groups of rogues, assassins and thieves crowded the place, while they had to clutch their zeny pouches tightly. There was a high chance that they would be mugged if they did not guard their money carefully.

Morroc was like a swirl of yellow and brown. Sands covered the filthy streets, and many had to wear an accessory to shield their eyes from the haze and the swirling sand. Since the three had none, they used their forearms as one. The boy, known as Pickie, walked briskly, leading them through several squalid avenues. Assassins hid in the shadows, eyed dangerously at those who traverse the area. The three of them following Pickie were not at the least intimidated, except for the priestess who occasionally yelped in disgust, or scaring herself when she thought someone was hiding in secluded corners.

Pickie led them out of a narrow alley, and they could see the huge pyramid of Morroc not too far away. The golden structure stood proudly at the edge of the desert city and novices ventured within it to take the test in order to become a full-fletched thief.

"Not that I can remember… where is it?" the rogue asked the boy.

"There," Pickie jerked a thumb back at the dark alley they just came out of.

The three of them turned back into the alley, but they could find nothing. The black robed figure, who carried a long staff, conjured a ball of flame that floated atop his palm. The dark alley was illuminated, and to their immediate left was a short staircase leading downwards. Extinguishing the flame, the man that looked very much of a wizard followed the rogue down the wet stairs, eventually leading to a wooden door. The rogue squealed in delight. The other two thought she had found some spoils unwanted or something, but she told them that "this was the place".

"This place is definitely unfit for inhabitant!" the priestess among the three commented while covering her nose.

Expecting the door to be locked, the rogue almost exclaimed when the knob turned easily, opening the door. Surprisingly, it was warmly lit inside the room. There were at least fifty assassins and rogues, drinking and making merry even though the day marked no significant event. The black wizard frowned. The Lord of Death was going to expand his dark conquests, yet they were treating it as if nothing was happening?

Those inside stopped whatever they were doing. All of them fixed the intruders a piercing stare, some of them even whipping out their katars and daggers.

"I don't like this place one bit. So where and who is this Invus that boy spoke of?" the priestess whispered nervously.

However the rogue passed caring about her companions. She felt at home now, and nothing else seemed to matter. Through it all, she did not forget about the main purpose here though. The rogue found it strange that nobody recognized her; had she been absent for so long? Or were there new recruits?

The black wizard suddenly grabbed the rogue back.

"Tell me, what organization is this? In case you're too overwhelmed with nostalgia, we leave."

The people in the room stared at the wizard in particular. Their gazes swept over his body, and at his staff. He would have expected them to be mesmerized by his necklace, but he had kept it hidden inside his robe. For some reason, a handful of this "ASS" members did not try keeping their disdain in check. The wizard suspected that they had some unsettled feud with wizards of sorts.

The young boy who led them here came into the room.

"They mean no harm. Just carry on."

Only after a few moments, they returned to their drinking and other shady businesses. Pickie led the three past the glaring crowd and down another short flight of stairs that winded into another, leading to a small area with benches arranged in a linear fashion. At the far end opposite where they stood, a large door awaited. Pickie then explained that a man called Invus was within the chamber ahead.

"Looks like a big shot, yet he came up with such an abbreviation," the priestess spoke softly.

Pickie glanced at her, supposedly hearing what she had said.

"He's just a kid, a mercurial one I must say."

Before the priestess could display her amusement, the door swung open slowly. Pickie ushered the three in. The black wizard was only made to move on because he was intrigued by this organization, and the gathering of more information. Maybe the people of Morroc knew something they did not…

Sure enough, a "kid" appeared in the chamber. The floor had mats laid over it, and the walls here were made of red bricks. A small fireplace sat in the corner, but there was no fire in it. Several pieces of unused firewood was scattered near it. Two torches hung opposite each other on the wall, providing a somewhat dim glow over the chamber which was considered large. Other than a few pieces of furniture, it was rather empty. And in the middle of the chamber stood a person. Of course, as Pickie told them, that person was undoubtedly Invus.

At first impression his height made him look above twenty. But his juvenile features quickly overlapped it, while a grin flashed. When the three companions managed to take a look at his face, they assumed that he was definitely no more than sixteen. What shocked them was that he was already promoted to an assassin, a pre-matured one. Usually at such an age, others could only be a thief at most.

Walking to the three unarmed, he ushered them to take a seat, except for the rogue who was pestering Invus if he recalled who she was.

"Why not, Maraulea? You were one of my favourite underling before you left. Welcome back!" Invus said. With that, they gave each other a brief embrace.

"You're the only one who remembered me! What happened to the rest?" Maraulea spoke with excitement.

"I'll fill you in later," the young assassin reassured. Then, looking past her, his brows furrowed. "Your friends? Hmm… I've never seen them around here before."

"Yup, Manald the priestess, and this wizard," she paused to recall his full name, but seemingly failed. "Oh, Sagi the wizard."

Sagi leaned his Staff of Soul against the wall, and walked over to the assassin. He disregarded the formalities.

"Invus, is it? Do you lead the bunch of hoodlums up there?"

The young assassin, sensing impatience in the wizard, bid him to take a seat once again. His jovial look showed no umbrage.

"Yes, yes I'm like the chairman, though in Morroc I don't think there's such a grand title. You must seek ASS for a reason. So is it dagger trading, or katar sharpening? Perhaps a drink too?"

That only aggravated the bemused wizard. Manald left her seat to hold him back, tugging at his arm to restrain whatever he was planning to do. Deciding that Sagi would only offend the assassin sooner or later, she would do the talking instead.

"Sir Invus, I supposed you have heard of the Lord of Death's coming invasion over Prontera?"

Invus's smile vanished, and replacing it was a peculiar look.

"I'm sorry, but no. So, what wishes does this beautiful priestess have of me?"

A tinge of red filled Manald's cheeks. At the same time she was surprised that he appeared way too casual about it.

"I hope you realize the seriousness, sir Invus. We were thinking if we could borrow your men to fight for Prontera."

"ASS had been missing in action for too long!" Maraulea added. "Please? Please? Too much beer's gonna make them fat."

Invus was thoughtful for a while, as if put in a difficult spot. Yes, perhaps the two female was right. Following the fall of the strongest fortress, what chance would Rune-Midgard stand? And since ASS had been idling for way too long…

"Hmm… Prontera."

Invus looked at the wizard. Although he may be a little rude, but his impatience had explained how desperate they were. Sighing deeply, Invus nodded his head.