Fantasy System 270 Confusion At Headquarters

As the morning split the darkness apart, one commander belonging to Blood sect found himself in a pickle. Right in front of him, surrounded by soldiers, a bruised and beaten version of himself pointed at him and shouted, "That Sarin is an impostor!"

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A couple of hours earlier, the red plains s.h.i.+fted around in silence. The soldiers stationed closest to the battlefield couldn't get a wink of sleep. They kept hearing them, the dead. The moans and cries of the fallen soldiers and cultivators frightened them all. It was far too horrifying for any of them to make heads or tails of the situation. How could they, after all, they were all foot soldiers. The best one among them was Earth Establishment. Just the fact that they survived the first day of the battle was more than enough excitement to last them the rest of their lives.

And now, they were about to encounter the dead that they killed? They felt like it was a joke played on them by the heavens.

However, once morning came, they all found the dead bodies in the same place as before. Not one-inch misplacement. Some of the soldiers stabbed the dead bodies in order to rea.s.sure themselves. It was just a dream, they convinced themselves. It was just the pressure from the battlefield, they repeated in their heads.

Similarly, on the Avalon's side of the battlefield, the soldiers swore that they saw the mountain behind them s.h.i.+ft during the night. Yet, come morning and the mountain was still in its place.

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"Pa.s.s a word to the flag bearers," Arthur stood in front of the leaders of the army and spoke to them. "All soldiers are to stand by until the sign appears. If anyone breaks formations, I'll slay them myself!"

"What is the sign, commander?"

"Trust me, you'll know when you see it, brat," Stephanie's grandfather commented. His face was flushed red and each cell on it carried life and beamed with light. Excitement filled his face, while curiosity rested on all the others. 'What could he have heard in the tent last night?' they all thought.

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"It smells ghastly in this place," Sarin said as he walked around headquarters. "It's just like No-bō's smell. Disgusting."

"Funny you would mention him, when he just died," Johan's father, the commander of the Blood sect's army, Dawlish said.

"It's precisely because he just died. You should have been there, you should have seen it. That brat commanded a small army of the most exotic monsters I'd ever laid my eyes on. One of them even managed to kill my Kraken. And yes, when I say 'kill' I mean kill and not beat. I couldn't summon it since."

"I could tell. If you could, you wouldn't be full of scratches like you are just now," you're famous for your healing ability, using your Kraken," Dawlish said, and with a snicker he continued, "I should say, you were known."

"Keep your funny remarks to yourself; I was fond of my Avatar. It feels like a piece of my soul is missing. But, I got my revenge! I'll never forget the moment I took him down!" Sarin clutched his fist in front of him and smiled like a maniac.

"Are you sure he died? Edward Avalon, that is," Dawlish was quick to ask. "You did mention how he got used to your poison. Did you actually see him get killed?"

"No, I wasn't foolish enough to stay back when I was surrounded by almost twenty Immortal Establishment cultivators. However, if you know anyone that could survive with a hole in their stomach and veins filled with more poison than blood, then please do tell me, I'd like to ask them for tips."

The two continued to bicker around, like old friends, until they walked outside, when the rest of the commanders stood by, waiting. In the middle, Erykytos stood. He wore a long-sleeved red s.h.i.+rt, made from some materials softer than silk, and tougher than tempered steel. The only thing tougher was the stern look on his face. He gazed at his soldiers' backs and the enemies' soldiers with their unmoving formations. He squinted his eyes as if he could look directly at each of their faces.

Suddenly, one of the messengers came forward, running so fast his heels almost touched the back of his head. He stopped and drew in one breath, before collapsing on one knee, and without even opening his eyes, he reported.

"Sires! We have someone at the gate claiming that one of you is a traitor and that you're all in danger!"

Some of the commanders chuckled, while others remained pa.s.sive. Not one of them entertained the thought of the other being a traitor or an impostor.

"Bring him in," Dawlish said, his hands quickly reaching out for his sword. "It's obvious that this is some sort of plan used to divide us. It's best to cut it short now."

The messengers turned heel and want back from where he came from. No sooner than a minute later, he returned with other soldiers, and in front of them stood a person, full of injuries, filth, and blood.

The commanders no longer laughed, nor did they dare chuckle anymore, for in front of them stood one of the oldest allies of Blood sect, the master of Poison sect. Yet, at the same time, he stood next to them. Eyes flew between both of them.

The Sarin in front of them heaved and said, "That one is an impostor! I'm the real Sarin! He's just tricking you, and he'll betray you the moment you let your guards down!"

The other Sarin remained still in the face of the accusations and said, "How dare you accuse me of such a thing! Not even death will be suitable enough for you!" as he stepped forward in order to execute the man in front of him. However, a hand quickly caught his shoulder and stopped him. It was Dawlish.

"Why are you stopping me?" Sarin asked.

"Because I'm doubting your real ident.i.ty right now," Dawlish answered.

In an instant, the previous confident att.i.tude the commanders carried was replaced by uncertainty. They doubted whether Sarin or Sarin was the real Sarin. They wanted to know which Sarin would betray them.

"We don't have the time to waste on such matters, so right now, both of you use your magic, I'll kill anyone who fails," Dawlish said as he withdrew his sword from its sheath. A silver double-edged sword with marking on its body, almost as tall as an adult man, and thicker than a woman's thigh. It was clear that the blade had tasted a lot of blood over the years.

"Such an easy thing to ask, I'm the only one remaining from Blood sect after all!" Sarin said as he withdrew his hand and targeted the Sarin that just arrived. "You don't mind me targeting him. After all, if I kill him with poison, I'll prove my innocence."

"But if you kill him with another method, you'll find my blade quick to catch your neck."

Sarin paid no heed to the warning and thrust his hand forward. He used his familiar magic, and out of his palm came a red crimson…flame. The other Sarin swatted it away with his hand and snickered.

"I don't remember being so weak that such a flame would kill me. Don't you agree, Dawlish?" he said. "And this should be enough evidence." He thrust his hand forward and out came dark purple poison. It dropped to the ground and melted it in an instant.

"You probably knew I escaped and reached this place before me. I don't know how you were able to transform into me, but you should have kept some eyes on me, in case I showed up. Don't you think so, Edward Avalon?! You're the only one I know who could use s.p.a.ce magic well enough to travel such long distances in such a short amount of time."

All the eyes fell on Sarin who fell silent. He struggled to produce any words, and Dawlish was halfway into his swing when he heard his father, Erykytos mutter, "It's gotten awfully quiet."

Erykytos stared at the distance, and his eyes opened wide. "They're not humans," he said. "They're undead."

Just as the commanders wondered what their leader was talking about, they turned their heads in order to check on him and noticed a black katana pierce right through his heart.