Lol sorry for the late update again, was trying to get to plat. Anyways, I should post more frequently from now on.

Chapter 12

"Sand Bandits, flee!" the bloodcurdling voices outside of the Arcanium screamed. The scholars inside ducked for cover and fled in panic, leaving a scene of chaos and books everywhere.

Artrix instinctively readied his weapon and treaded outside to survey the situation. Upon exiting the building, he was met with a nightmarish sight. Mutilated bodies of the innocent villagers slaughtered like pigs littered and stained the once peaceful sands. The clay huts and straw constructs have already burned down along with the rest of the village. Some of them still held trapped families whether as the final blaze consumed them. Artrix could hear the screams, the horrors and the false yet comforting final words of the parents to frightened children.

Crusading the desolated village were horsemen wrapped in light, sandy cloths and wielding wicked looking scimitars. Their faces were concealed, giving them a savage uniform identity. They all looked alike, as if they were from some construct of a mad scientist's lab. To Artrix however, they were now his enemies. As they charged forward, they would bring their sharp edges down and cut down anyone unfortunate enough to be in their path of murder.

Surveying left and right, Artrix attempted to assess the damage on the ruined village. The Sand Bandits had already crushed what little defense the village had. The basic clubs and spears of the huntsmen were no match for the honed scimitars and the trained warriors, yet the villagers still fought on futilely yet valiantly. The women and the infants were hidden while the adult huntsmen and along with some boys who could hold up a blade were the village's only defenses. Some of the boys were as young if not younger than Rithuso.

"Master Artrix!" one of the bloodied huntsmen came to him. He was the same man who offered Artrix a drink last night. "The Sand Bandits are slaughtering our people, we need help!"

The man's blade was rusted and dull, clearly not designed for combat yet it was still stained with the crimson of the bandits he despised.

Artrix's combat skills and experience as once a god of war had heightened his senses. "How many of them are there? How many casualties of us?"

The man was clueless and in slight shock. All he thought of was savagely striking anyone down who threatened his people.

In the outskirts of the burning village, a bolstering commanding voice could be heard. "Round them up! Kill all the men and leave the women and children."

More and more of the dreaded raiders entered and intensified their pillaging. The once peaceful village was now a bloody battlefield of carcasses, charred bodies and destroyed huts.

"Come on, we need to find the survivors and gather them into a strong point!" Artrix said to the shaking man. However, his eyes were frozen with ferocity and hatred, unable to cooperate like a disciplined soldier does. Artrix grabbed onto the man's shoulders and gave him a good shake to clear him up.

"Listen, if we don't work together and survive, then this village is done, do you hear me? Do you want your village to be destroyed?" Artrix said. That had gained the man's attention as he weakly but obediently nodded.

Both of them with their blades drawn and treaded through the sanguine sands. They headed for the village hall where suspected where all the elders and survivors had gathered. The large, singular clay building was situated at the top of a small hill. It overlooked the whole of the village with a regal demeanour, mostly stemming from its distinct house-shaped and proper construct instead of the other rudimentary huts and straw buildings. Surrounding the village hall was a now broken fence which had served only as a way to block off cattle and bison, not savage marauders.

As they ran towards the foot of the hill, Artrix sensed the tingling wind of an incoming scimitar behind his neck. With lightning speed and instincts, he dropped to his knees and felt the thundering horse and rider sweep past, missing Artrix by an inch. The bandit turned around as his horse neighed, signalling another charge.

"Go on, get to the hall safely, I will deal with them here," Artrix ordered.

"But-"

"Now!"

The man obeyed and weary climbed the hill and to the village hall. The bandit paid no attention to the escaped huntsman but instead gazed intensely at Artrix. He knew that sooner or later, the hall would've been razed to the ground, along with its inhabitants. The bandit readied himself to take on Artrix who seemed like a threat.

"Come forth, I challenge you," Artrix smugly taunted. He flourished his blade and aimed at straight at the bandit's heart. The man's mask had concealed any emotions, leaving only the sets of his piercing eyes. A tense silence screamed between the two as both of them observed each other intently and with great caution.

A brief wind brushed through this standoff as the ambient noises of the background slaughter clashed on. Artrix gripped his blade and buckled his knees while the bandit raised his scimitar high above his head. In the blink of an eye, the bandit whipped his ride forward, kicking up a small dust storm. The very grounds which stood firm even against the harshest magical storms of Shurima had quaked and thundered under the hoofs of this bloodthirsty bandit. Artrix stood courageously and with the knowledge of combat superiority. In those few moments just mere seconds ago, he had already observed and understood every bit of the bandit's form, structure, approximate strength and speed.

With just a fraction of a second before their blades and will connected, Artrix dashed onto his knees and held out his blade to his side, causing the horse's own momentum to cut deep into its flesh and bones. Artrix then finished it with a smooth roll away and looked at his own sword. It was stained with the blood of the bandit's ride as it neighed and danced controllably and finally collapsed which sent the bandit tumbling onto the ground. Without the advantage of a charging horse, the bandit was now on equal footing with Artrix, forced into a swordfight with his opponent.

"Why do you come to this peaceful village and destroy everything?" Artrix said with a tint of disgust and hatred in his voice.

The two began circling the field as the emotionlessness of the bandit continued to tear at Artrix.

"Why do you discard life so easily? What gives you the ability to murder these people? Just because they are do not wield powerful scimitars and fight, does not make them weak," Artrix continued, "They have settled and survived the deserts for generations, they are strong. But you, you petty bandits just pillage and thrive off others. If you think you are strong in these sands, then you are wrong."

Yet, the cold mask still hides any expressions that the bandits may have. Artrix knew his words were meaningless to his foe.

"Very well, consider it an honor to fall by my blade."

They then dashed forward at each other and began their duel of steel. The violent clashing of their blades melded into the chaotic ambient noises. To Artrix's surprise, his opponent's skill was much more proficient than he had expected. Each time Artrix would strike, it would be parried and blocked, followed by a swift and deadly counter strike. The flow of this battle was exceptionally strange and unnatural to Artrix, it was unlike the duality that he had with Riven or any other sword masters. It felt to him as if almost artificial, like he is not even fighting a man but a soulless being programmed to respond and attack with inhuman precision. Artrix felt like he was duelling a sentient mirror, unable to strike once through its perfect defense. Suddenly and completely unexpected, the bandit thrust an attack from an impossible angle. Artrix leaned back, dodging the slice just barely. It had nicked the side of his face, causing trickle of blood to spill down the side.

Artrix began breathing heavily, as evident from the brutal battle. Yet the bandit had remained completely still, calm and void of any emotions. It was as if it was waiting for another strike, another duel. Gathering all his wit and strength, Artrix charged forward again which was closely mirrored by the bandit. Their steely blades met once again yet the results were the same. Artrix felt invaded, as the bandit's resemblance became closer and closer to his. The exact same movements, power and strength were being mirrored and used against him. Soon, it had felt like he was battling a tireless version of himself. Again, at an utmost unexpected moment, another strike from nowhere forced Artrix off and narrowly escape being cut down.

Thoughts and ideas rushed through Artrix's mind. Now, he was certain that this adversary of his was no mere bandit. It was all too peculiar, how he was able to almost become like him in battle. Artrix then hatched an idea and quickly formulated a risky plan. He took a deep breath to sooth his aching lungs and wiped off the dried blood on the side of his face. He readied his sword and began another charge.

As he had expected, the bandit did exactly the same thing. However, this time, mere moments before their blades met, Artrix pulled an astonishing move. He threw his sword into the arm and caught it with his left arm. Artrix knew one thing from all his training with Riven and it's that despite no matter how powerful a warrior is that he will always have a weak spot. For Artrix, it was his left. He could not fight anywhere as well as his regular side. The bandit saw this and as Artrix had suspected, did the same thing. However, the bandit also seemed to be weaker on the left, as same as Artrix. Now they were on an equal footing as they are both forced to traverse uncomfortable territory.

The ensuing fight was all but unnatural for Artrix, yet he felt this time he had a chance. The bandit's wobbling techniques were matched by Artrix. This time, it was the first person to make a mistake that will decide the victor and the dead. Several times, Artrix would narrowly dodge his death and the same for the bandit.

Despite how uncomfortable duelling with his left is, he forced on. He knew for one that the bandit did not have his same will and fearlessness. He forced strikes and techniques, not knowing if they would hit or not unlike his right side. Soon, Artrix found an opening, and he struck. His foe did not make one sound as he collapsed onto the sands with a thud. A pool of blood slowly seeped from the body. Artrix, somewhat triumphant of his victory inside, switched his sword back to a more agreeable position and climbed the hills to the village hall.

The building was still a safe haven, but not for long. It was one of the last to fall and where most of the survivors, unable and elders are holding up. It was their final stand.

"Open the door, it's Artrix!" He knocked on the weakly reinforced wooden gates. They had which trembled even at the slight knocks.

The gates slowly creaked open, revealing inside a huddled group of frightened villagers and some of the last, able-bodied huntsmen who was willing to sacrifice their lives for the villagers. Children wrapped in rugged blankets were whimpering in the cradle of their mother's arm. Most of them will never see their father alive ever again who had died valiantly against the dreaded crusade of the bandits. The elders were in the back of the hall and grouped in circle. They had remained calm as the sands themselves and gave out comforting final words to those who seek them. Artrix spotted the woman who he had met just yesterday in his hut. He quickly and carefully treaded over the villagers to the elder's group.

"My friend Artrix, I am so sorry that a newcomer had to be given this. We had been at peace for generations now, yet we had always feared this day and it finally came," the elder spoke to Artrix.

Artrix was surprised at how all faith and hope had already been given up.

"You are surrendering already? Think of all these lives that will be slaughtered," Artrix said, pointing to the huddled villagers.

The elder shook her head not in despair but acceptance. "We knew this day would come, but we never had what it took to stop it."

"We can defend, we must. Even if against impossible odds, we must try the best !"

"Why waste more time and effort to avoid the inevitable?"

Artrix glanced around at the defeated villagers, they needed motivation. He raised his sword high above his head as a beacon for those lost in despair.

"Listen! People of this village!" Artrix said with pride with his weapon high. The villagers turned their tired gazes at this eculair warrior, a warrior who refused to give up even in the face of the end.

"Why do you sit idle? Why do you not defend?"

One of the huntsmen looked up and sighed. "There is nothing we can do, they have already burned our village to the grounds, murdered our people. What left is there to defend?"

"Look around you, what do you see? Do you want to see their blood spilled, or your enemies? Are you so willing to give up without even trying? Don't you want to protect your village?" Artrix continued.

Another man stood up, slightly affected by Artrix's sudden indomitable spirit. "But what are we to, we are all dead either way."

"We will be dead if we do not act. If we are to die, will we not at least give it a chance and go down fighting? In hopes that we had done our best to protect our loved ones…" Artrix said. Suddenly, Riven flashed through his mind. Tried their best to protect their loved ones, he said. Yet, the fact that he may never see her again did not deter him, in fact it had given him resolve. He knew that even if he was to be lost, at the very least he had done everything he could, with every strand of strength he had. Now he understood his father's words.What was true strength? It was the question that had bugged him for his whole life, the question that had caused his exile. Now he sees what it is.

From the defeated crowd, a single voice stood out. Artrix recognized it.

"The mister is right, if we don't try, then how will we even have the chance of protecting everyone?" Rithuso said.

The villagers turned their heads at the surprisingly brave young boy. Artrix was glad to see a familiar face, and that he was safe.

"I do see…" an experienced huntsman said. He then sat up and acted as the leader of the remaining man who could defend. "The newcomer's words are wise. If we are to die, then we will die fighting and protecting our loved ones. Men!"

The commanding voice of the huntsmen seemingly and instantly motivated the men, causing them to rise to their feet and raising their hatchets and dull blades. A growing chatter which soon escalated to roars of morale and determination thundered in the hall. The men were preparing themselves for final battle of glory and death and to defend to till their very last breaths their loved ones. Many of them were now bidding their farewells to their families as tears and sobs filled the room.

Rithuso walked over to Artrix and beamed.

"Are you not afraid?" Artrix asked the boy.

"There is thing I learned from all the elder talks and it's that there is always hope, no matter how slim," Rithuso brightly replied. Artrix was surprised by this young boy's determination. He felt like it was like something Riven would say, something she would do.

Artrix patted Rithuso on the shoulders. The boy then pulled out a short blade from a scabbard hanging behind him, indicating that he will also fight.

Regularly, any sane person would stop a young boy to join in a battle to the death, yet Artrix did not. He saw the fire in the boy, and his passion.

"Perhaps you should say farewell to your family," Artrix said.

Rithuso shrugged, examining his blade.

"They died long ago in a sandstorm, I've grown up all these years myself. I know I can handle it," Rithuso said without a single hindrance to his cheer.

Artrix was astonished at Rithuso, this boy may look weak but inside, he was stronger than any god.

Outside, the sounds of the approaching bandits were closing in on the hall. The lead huntsmen had bid farewells to his fellow villagers and men before turning to Artrix. He extended his rugged hands at Artrix as a gesture of goodwill. Artrix accepted it with a firm grasp and a shake.

"Newcomer, you may not have known our people for long but I can tell you we are proud, and strong. And I would like to give you my thanks, on bringing us to our feet until at the end," he said.

"And I you," Artrix replied.

"If you have any loved ones, then remember them and remember them well for we shall find peace once this is over," the leader said. A final memory of Riven flashed through his mind before he cleared his head and readied for battle. The leader then turned one last time to his men who were now waiting eagerly behind him.

"To the everlasting sands of Shurima, and peace thereafter, charge!"

They then burst out of the gates where they were met with a ring of surprised bandits. They had been briefly thrown off-guard at this unexpected assault and initially several of them were struck down by the momentum of the fearless villagers. Artrix saw Rithuso to his side who gave out an immature but powerful war cry before following his elders into the fray. Artrix had kept his speed and momentum and plunged his blade downhill through several bandits. With ease, he was able to effortlessly cut down more and more men before he had stopped at a concentrated mass of bandits.

At the foot of the hill, Artrix saw almost an army of men surrounding the hall. The rest of the village had already been razed and burned to charred bits. Fearlessly like the rest of the villagers, Artrix heroically and flew into what seemed to be suicide. It looked like as if he had flung himself into a sea of sharks yet he was able to ferociously strike down bandits after bandits. He swung wildly and partially forgoing technique, he caused the dead bandits to pile up. Yet no matter how many he had killed, there was always more. And with the uniform masks that the bandits, it felt like they were immortal.

Outnumbered twenty to one, despite the villagers and Artrix's best efforts, they began to fall. Slowly, the size of the villagers dwindled yet their courage did not. As more of them fell, their final resolves became stronger and stronger. Artrix, Rithuso and the lead huntsmen were the last few to remain and completely encircled in front of the hall. The sands were now soaked and blooded with the bodies of both sides.

"Newcomer, may you find peace in the afterlife," the leader said.

"May Heaven guide you," Artrix said as the leader nodded his head in approval. He smiled, hoping that he had had at least one last mug of ale before he charged into the bandit ranks along with Rithuso.

As Artrix began to follow, a blinding blue light engulfed the field, throwing everyone off their feet. Suddenly, a wide portal ripped open in a slight distance from where they are as a familiar figure appeared in it.