Return of the Tower Conqueror

  Wards of Eternity (I)

A milky-white stream of light burst out through a thick, tall wall of concrete, sending debris flying everywhere in the rhapsody of destruction. Dust kicked in swiftly after, blanketing the horizon, while screams of anguish soon joined the symphony-in-making. A phantom figure broke out through to the other end, a dark shadow hidden in the midst of the dust storm, coated in a faint sheen of white.

The silhouette darted left and right at speeds inconceivable to the naked eye, wreaking havoc in its wake, uprooting the marble tiles and turning walls into motes of dust and digging craters like graves. There was seemingly no stopping it, not even with the walls of bodies that the defendants had created. Sitting at the far end, an angry-faced, red-cheeked, wide-eyed man stared at the destruction below from the seat at the throne. Each second felt like a year's worth of fighting, with his men dying like flies in the winter.

They did all they could, that much he knew; the figure, the otherworldly abomination, however, was too strong, too quick, too destructive... too inhumane. Nothing stopped it-- not the walls, those of stone or those of souls, not the moats, not the prayers, not the pleas... it all appeared worthless beneath the hooves of demolition.

On the other side, Jamal came to a halt in front of a tall arch leading directly into the most decorated building within the city. It was a long trek and a look of exhaustion and frustration dominated his glistening features. Beneath the scorching sun, he'd be leading war efforts for nearly three months now. Three months. If it were just fighting recklessly like he was doing today, it might have been fine-- but, as it turns out, leading an entire nation into the war constitutes far more than just fighting.

Not only was he the Commanding General of the entire army, whenever something went horribly wrong, everyone-- the King, the Queen, Princes and Princesses and all the supposed 'King's advisors' turned toward him with that stupid look of misfortune on their faces. A drought? Ask Jamal how to fix it! A pair of traitors? 'How should we deal with them, Commander Jamal?' Jamal this, Jamal that... he'd grown tired. No, beyond tired.

As such, today, he was venting three months' worth of frustrations and anger. It wasn't like him to recklessly charge ahead of the army; rather, he'd never done it before throughout the war. Not because he would have died, but because he had to watch over the entire battlefield. He'd usually lock eyes with the enemy's general and duke it out but today... he simply didn't care. He rushed ahead of everyone else, tore directly through the capital's walls and killed, killed, killed.

For the first time in three months, it felt like he could breathe, as though there wasn't something beyond heavy pressing against his chest and his lungs. Standing in the midst of unprecedented destruction and staring up at the throne where the enemy's last forces remained, all of whom were staring back at him with horror in their eyes, he relaxed, his tensed muscles breathing for the first time in a while.

Nobody dared approach him despite the fact that he was two miles ahead of the rest of his army. He was completely surrounded from all sides, hundreds of men and women clad in plate armors standing about with shaking hands and arms, reeling. To their relief, the King above didn't order them to press forward. They'd have no choice if he had-- and they would have died.

The man sitting on top of the golden throne stood up suddenly and walked over to the railing, bending forward slightly as he stared at Jamal. The pair of emerald eyes shone with helplessness and regret, but it was too late for both.

"We surrender," the King's words were like a bell that rung the mountain dry. A complex set of emotion surged on top of everyone's faces; part relief, part regret, part anger, part unwillingness, part... everything. Life was never so simple as to make it all black and white, even in moments like these where, truly, there only was one proper choice.

Jamal nodded gently toward the tall balcony and turned around. The circle broke open as they made a pathway for him, as though he was being escorted into the war rather than out of it. He cracked a faint smile as he walked out beyond the scope of his destruction and over onto the drawbridge. There, he finally saw the lagging army of his that was rushing like mad bees toward him.

Seeing him, everyone came to a screeching halt, all seventy thousand of them. They stared wide-eyed at the bloodied armor, fear of the worst surging for a moment before Jamal heaved his sword up toward the sky and roar.

"VICTORY!!!"

"..."

"..." it took a moment for his voice to ring out like the hollow call of a God above, but when it did, cheers erupted like volcanoes, uninhibited.

"VICTORY!!!" the roar of seventy thousand was far more powerful than his own, shaking the entire world around and scaring away the birds in the far skies above away. "VICTORY!!" men began to hug and cheer while Jamal's immediate subordinates rode over on their horses.

"... you could have died." Synthia, his second-in-command, commented with a stern expression.

"Ah, to be honest, it would have been worth it," Jamal said, taking out a jug of wine and downing it. He'd already gone through the entire reserves he'd brought from Earth, resulting in him needing to replenish through the Empire's reserves. "The last three months were too much. It was twice as worse as not having sex for thrice as long."

"Humph, you were lucky," as they were already accustomed to his crudeness, they ignored his comment and chided further. "If you died, you think the Emperor would have let us go? He would have punished us to join you."

"Ha ha, nah, that old geezer wouldn't have the balls, ha ha," Jamal laughed freely while the four men and two women on the horses sighed and rubbed their temples. "He knows I would have haunted his ass from beyond the grave, ha ha ha."

"Haah," Synthia sighed, shaking her head. "They surrendered?"

"Aye," Jamal nodded, putting away his sword. "Luckily not before I got to vent a bit."

"Was it really that bad?" Resto asked. "You had everything you wanted and you didn't even need to risk your life to get it."

"Aah, how come you're more of a wimp than me while being so much younger?" Jamal grunted. "If I wanted to sit in a chair and do nothing, I coulda just stayed home where, at least, I'd have access to the best porn available. Being here... it's synonymous with needing to fight. Besides, I've already got someone who's good at making these calls. Me needing to learn just seems redundant. Aye, somebody gimme a ride. I'm starving."

"Hop on," Synthia extended her arm and pulled him up, seating him behind her as they began to ride back toward the camp, with the rest of the army slowly retreating as well. "You... you're leaving?"

"... aye," Jamal cracked a faint smile at her blushing cheeks. From what he knew, she wasn't even seventeen yet. Despite that, however, she was much like Senna was back in the day-- among the most talented and reckless folk here, which was also why he took her under his wing and groomed her. "You sound like you're gonna miss me, eh?"

"H-humph, who is going to miss your old ass? Don't flatter yourself."

"Ha ha ha, come on, I ain't that old," Jamal laughed gingerly. "But man, it'd have felt nice if a cute girl like you missed me. Ah, a man can only dream, eh?"

"Don't go, then, if you dislike not being missed."

"..."

"..."

"Your life is bigger than me, kiddo," Jamal said. "And mine is elsewhere. Just promise me something."

"W-what?"

"You won't let that old fart bully you, ha ha ha," Jamal's word caused Synthia to sigh once again. There, quite literally, wasn't another soul in the entire world who dared speak like this of her Father, the Emperor. For that very reason, the two of them had a bond that made no sense to the rest of the world.

"You kept saying you've got someone else to make these decisions for you," she asked suddenly. "Who is he?"

"Ah, a friend," Jamal replied. "Sorry, kiddo, he's taken."

"Oh, for the love of..."

"Ha ha ha, relax, relax. Don't worry, though; I don't regret these three months and if I had a choice, I'd have gone into this trial all over again. Even if I don't need to become a mastermind, it doesn't hurt to know more things, right?"

"... you never did tell me just how old you are, by the way," Synthia said. "Care to share at last?"

"Twice your age and then some," Jamal replied, taking a swig from the jug. "So, ancient."

"You don't look it."

"Thanks," he smiled. "It's beneath where the age shows, I'm afraid. Alas, I'm still young for my age!"

"... what does that even mean?" she asked.

"It's what old men say when they wanna forget they are old," he replied. "Can you take me to your dad?"

"Huh? Why?"

"I've got a three hours countdown before I gotta bolt," he said. "And I'd like to bid that asshat a farewell."

"..." Synthia glanced at him and bit her lower lip in unwillingness, though nodding in the process, pulling toward the left, away from the army's camp and toward the nearby fort that they had recently captured. Nobody followed them, as though they understood the meaning of it. "Will... will I see you again?"

"... I dunno," Jamal said. "Probably not."

"Then, I--"

"Synthia," he interrupted her in a gentle, to her unfamiliar, tone. "Look forward, at the road," he warned before she could turn her head back to face him. "Don't fall." few words said everything as she fought back her tears. Just like that, like the candle in the rain, her first love... disappeared.

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