Manto

“Manto, sir! Medith’s line has been breached. The battlefield’s a firestorm. Commander Sinis is leading the Black Light Cavalry west to support. Looks like he wants to gnaw their morale and strength. Should we—” the scout reported.

Manto’s eyes narrowed to slits, cold as a knife: “Ignore him. He makes his own calls. The cost?”

The scout froze, then caught on: “Report, Sergeant-Major. The assault held few surprises, but... Medith seemed to read Commander Erig’s move. They hid a Blackblood War Chariot inside a border-side building ahead of time.”

“Only one shot, but they picked the heartbeat when our formation loosened in the rush. One bolt killed Commander Erig’s rider; the mount panicked; we lost no fewer than thirty horses. We barely steadied, then hundreds of Sia City soldiers swarmed in like ants.”

“Commander Sinis got caught too. Details unknown, but seeing him use his Lawbreaking Ability, at least seventy horses were flung into the sky...”

“What?! A Blackblood War Chariot?! Where did they get a chariot? Fell from the damn sky? Are you lying?!” Manto seized the scout’s collar, his stare a blade against the throat.

The scout shook, voice thin as paper: “No, my lord, it’s solid intel, every word. If any of it’s false, I’ll die to atone!”

“Bastard!” Manto hurled him aside. “Powell... you kept saying the city had no supplies or war stock. The basement... ha... I knew it. That wasn’t some damn memorial hall. It was where you stored relics from the old era, wasn’t it?”

“You’ve been lying to me. The drugging—lie. The intel—lie. From start to finish, nothing but lies! The reason they’re killing us so precisely is because you spilled our secrets down to the last grain, isn’t it?”

“No wonder they know our troop types and gear like lines on their palms. You lied about last night too...”

“The repeating crossbows and longbows in the armory—you hid them, didn’t you? Even the damn Blackblood War Chariot was yours to move. Besides you, no one had the chance or skill to tamper with that thing.”

“I should never have trusted you, you sanctimonious, bloated swine... I don’t care when you started betraying us. If her life means nothing to you, then I’ll grant your wish.”

“I’ll find you. And just as you imagined, that basement will be your memorial hall.”

“Men! Go to the POW camp and drag Powell out! I’ll kill him myself!” As he thought it through, the fog in Manto’s mind lifted like mist under a rising sun.

Every shard of evidence pointed to Powell, that damned double agent.

“Report—Sergeant-Major! Bad news! Bad news!” Several guards stumbled to Manto, armor stripped, bodies cut and caked with mud, misery clinging like damp smoke.

“What now?! What happened to you?!” Manto recognized them as soldiers from the POW camp.

One soldier fell to his knees, voice shaking like a plucked string: “The POWs... the Sia City civilians... they revolted...”

Manto kicked him flying, rage riding his boot like a hammer. The man almost died from the single furious strike. “Weren’t they locked up?! Didn’t I order you to watch them properly? Even if they rebel! You have three hundred fully armed men! Don’t tell me you couldn’t crush a swarm of ants!”

“Sergeant-Major, somehow the civilians got keys. In a blink they flooded out. They came at us like mad dogs. We reacted, but they’d already rushed into the camp. Someone prepared cage keys for them, and weapons at marked spots—those were the weapons we meant to hand them.”

“But you said to hold off just in case, so we centralized everything in the armory. By rights, the POWs couldn’t know that. But it’s like they had a target. They piled bodies to choke the guards to death.”

“We fought like demons, and still couldn’t stop it. Now they’ve armed up and started a counterattack. Chieftain Skaro planned to loop from the east to the west. He ran right into them. He’s locked in brutal melee. It’s chaos, sir. We can’t even find our own men...”

“By the plan, seven hundred brothers were redeployed to the main battlefield, so we—” a soldier began.

Manto’s fury boiled over. Before the man finished, Manto slapped his head to shards, a thundercrack in flesh. “So you ran, did you? Desertion in battle. Punished by the blade!”

“No, my lord, mercy, my lord, we were just—”

Thud, thud...

Round heads rolled across the ground. Blood fountained out like a spring and soaked the earth.

“Nine thousand Mountain Bandits, three hundred elite soldiers—held up by a swarm of ants... damn it all... Pass my order! Execute Plan [Chaos of Heads]! I need a retreat ready. Useless, every one of you!” Manto stormed off, fury trailing him like smoke, leaving the rest stunned and lost.

[Time rolls back a little...]

The main battlefield had only just moved into probing contact, like blades tasting each other.

“Sounds fierce out there. I wish I could go,” two guards loitered outside the iron cages, safely distant like men watching a storm from a cliff.

“Forget it. The Sergeant-Major will handle it. We just wait for word,” one guard drawled, lazy as a cat in sun.

“Hey! What are you doing?” Several men gathered around a tall, wiry youth. He pressed a finger to his lips, then scanned the shadows like a fox. The crowd hid him; the guards barely cared to look.

“Didn’t you hear that dog this morning? He told us to see where we stand, told us to crawl out. I want to see if there’s a tunnel,” the youth said. His hands never stopped. Dirt came up in cupped palms, two centimeters deep already. The crowd caught the spark and began clawing like moles.

“Not too many! Just block me!” he hissed. The crowd understood and cocooned him tight.

“Got something!” His fingers found something hard. He thought it was a tunnel mouth. It wasn’t. It was a small wooden box. He cracked it open, puzzled. Inside lay a simple key and a slip of paper.

One line on the note: “Three hundred meters north, Armory.”

“This is...” He understood. He tore the note and buried the scraps. He clenched the key like a charm.

He noticed many fellows grinning, eyes bright as flint. Fingers pointed at the ground for other cages. More and more people found the “tools.”

They didn’t care about Powell’s motives now. If it got them out, they’d jump even into a death trap. One way or another, death waited at the end. Better to gamble and bite.

Besides, as things stood, Powell had no reason to screw them.

After half an hour, everyone seemed to have what they needed. In the dark, glances crossed like sparks. Their goal was one: break out, seize weapons, and strike back at these vermin.

“Hey, guard-brother. Come here,” several long-haired women pressed their chests to the bars, teasing out tempting curves like silk over hills.

A few soldiers dropped their food. “Ah-ho, little kittens asking for it? Or is it we won’t satisfy you?” They grinned and swaggered up.

“Oh yes. I miss the way you strut, brave and godlike. Open the gate and let me feel free?” the women cooed, voices like honey hiding knives.

“No, no, not tonight. Not tonight. After tonight, I swear you won’t be able to close your legs. If you don’t mind, we can do it right here,” a soldier said, hard and certain.

“Don’t be like that, brothers, we—”

In the sliver of that moment, the man slid the key into the lock under the crowd’s cover. Click. The door eased open, held fast by his shoulder. The sound drowned beneath the hive-buzz of voices.

“Tsk—too loud, you grasshoppers! Do I need to kill a few to quiet you?!” The squad leader stood up, anger snapping like a whip. The crowd fell silent at once.

“Baby, bear it for one more night, just one more, okay?” The soldier’s hands groped those rounded hills, greed slick as oil.

“No. I don’t think I need to wait till tonight.”

“?”

“Because tonight, we’re sending you to the Western Heaven.” The women yanked him, rage flaring. His helmet slammed the bars. His skull rang like a bell.

“You’re dead—” his partner began, but the crash was a signal. Shackles burst open. The crowd surged like starving tigers into a flock of wolves. In a heartbeat, the guards were swallowed. Their pent-up fury and trampled dignity erupted like a volcano.

What are three hundred guards against over ten thousand hungry wolves?

The women kept their oath. They carved the beasts who only knew their lower halves, slice by slice. Some cut off their roots, severed their veins, and watched the slow bleed carry them away.

Half an hour in hell later, the men paid a mountain of lives to buy steel in their hands—long swords, cleavers, spiked clubs. Most had never held a weapon. Yet now, they felt they could crush any skull within reach.

The women came back to themselves and sought the shelter of men and blades.

Right then, Skaro led over nine thousand Mountain Bandits past the place. He saw the hellscape and sighed, “Oh, my gods. Did I walk into hell or a pool of blood?”

He looked at the countless bloodthirsty eyes around him and swallowed hard. “May the gods protect us...”