Chương 54: True Legacy of Zaphari

As I walked toward the largest tent in the center of the camp surrounded by a massive gathering of nomadic citizens, then I turned to Dabuzai and asked, "Why am I being brought along?" He kept his eyes forward, voice firm: "I am tasked with keeping you held as the Salar. You helped us… that much is true. But that does not mean you are free to go. You are now involved in our affairs." He glanced at my hands, which I kept flexing unconsciously.

"How are your arms? I see you moving them constantly.

"I gave a tired smile.

"Yeah… it feels strange. I can move my fingers and wiggle my arms again, but the pain is still there bubbling on the surface. Closing my fist or trying to jab lightly hurts too much. I think I still need a couple more days to heal properly… but at least it's good to feel something again." I ran my fingers through the sandy shrub, letting the grains slip through my palms, grateful for even that small sensation of freedom that i gained. Once we reached the central tent, the crowd parted.

The Kabīr, the Elder air-walked high into the sky above everyone and shouted with commanding presence: "The Nabatea have grown way to emboldened! Thanks to years of mercenary support, they now grow even more greedy for our shrublands! That is what the captives told us before their deaths. They did not even try to hide it. At least we cut off their egotistic head today…" His voice grew heavier, laced with deep suspicion as he looked straight at me.

"But this is all too strange… Especially with this Gharīb here."He pointed directly at me, his finger steady and accusing, his eyes narrowing like a hawk spotting prey.

"I suspect he was deliberately sent to distract us. To sow confusion in our ranks right before a major raid. Look at him, since arriving here exactly when the Nabatea grow bold enough to attack our heart. Too convenient. Too perfectly timed." A murmur of agreement rippled through the gathered nomads. Many eyes turned toward me with fresh made distrust. The Elder raised his hand, silencing the growing whispers.

"So we will put him in the sand until tomorrow's battle is decided. If the Nabatea attack with full force and we find no connection to him… then perhaps he is innocent. But if any sign points to betrayal…"His voice dropped to a cold, final tone."…then the sand will become his grave." Dabuzai tried to speak on my behalf, stepping forward with urgency in his voice.

"Kabīr, he fought off raiders in my own tent. He protected the children when he could have escaped. That must count for—" The Elder cut him off sharply, raising his cane.

"Enough, Salar. Your judgment has been clouded, as mine have been before about the Nabatea. We cannot risk our people's safety on the word of an outsider with an enslavement brand on his shoulder." I was dragged back through the dense thorny shrub by several warriors. They forced me down into a pre-dug hole, my new dark grey knightly armor scraping harshly against the rough edges as they pushed my body inside.

Layer after layer of heavy, gritty sand was shoveled over me, packing tightly around my chest plate, pauldrons, gauntlets, greaves, and sabatons. The crushing weight pressed down harder and harder until only my head remained above the surface. I was completely buried. Immobilized. A living statue trapped in the earth on the far side of the shrub where no easy rescue was visible. Many tents surrounded me, filled with the high activity of soldiers preparing for war.

I could hear their voices, the sharpening of blades, and the nervous energy in the air growing. The only comfort I received was when Dabuzai's children secretly came and fed me some shrub-grown dates high in protein and vitamins, along with goat's milk. It was the first time I had tasted... it was bitter, but I was deeply grateful. There was no water available for someone like me right now. With a saddened heart, I thought: How am I supposed to be freed tonight?

If they really free me after the battle, it will only strengthen the Elder's suspicion. I have to hope they communicate with me… or I may have to fight my way out with whatever strength I have left after their weakened force returns. Nothing changed over the long hours being stuck in place. Only the dusty sand, blown by the wind, got into my eyes and mouth. I had to spit constantly. An unbearable itch spread across my face, but I could not scratch it. The helplessness felt like it would drive me into psychosis.

I eventually pissed into my pants. Luckily, I held the other urge in me. The night finally fell. Torchlight flickered from the surrounding tents. Then a shadow approached silently from behind. It was Galer. He spoke directly into my mind through telepathy: "I'm here with Iskatot. We came to get you out." I quickly explained everything about my current situation: the burial, the upcoming battle, and my suggestion to wait until after their fight when the camp would be weakest.

After a short back-and-forth comparing the risks, we finally agreed on a middle ground: They would free me when most of the warriors were away at war. As they agreed on the plan, I felt a wave of relief mixed with exhaustion wash over me. I was currently in no condition to give my best in a fight anyways, and if the Lakjoh won and decided we were threats, they could easily overwhelm us with their superior numbers and powerful Animo users that Galer confirmed felt in this entcampment.

After a brief, tense exchange through telepathy between them both, Galer and Iskatot disappeared back into the dense shrub forest, leaving me buried and waiting for the agreed moment. I tried to sleep, but it was impossible in this motionless position. The hours dragged on in a painful half-awake, half-dreaming state. Then I heard it, the heavy footsteps of Cavamello and movement in the distance that was taking place.

I shook myself awake from my half absent minded state just in time to see Iskatot and Galer running toward the tent near me. Nearly 70 percent of the tribe had left for the battle, creating the perfect window of action. Without a word, they dropped to their knees and began digging frantically with their hands, pulling away handful after handful of the packed sand. The gritty grains scraped against my armor and skin as they worked trying to free me. Iskatot's voice was low and urgent as he dug.

"Hold on, Erumes. We're getting you out." Galer's hands moved faster, his single eye burning with determination.

"You held on longer than I expected, while i was watching over you you only broke nearly 2 hours ago into a half absent minded state. Still I'm sorry it took us this long." I tried to speak, but my throat was dry and raw from the sand. All I could manage was a weak, raspy sound. When they finally pulled my upper body free, the sudden rush of cool night air against my face felt like a blessing. My arms still aching from the casts inside the sand trembled as I was lifted completely out of the tight hole.

I collapsed onto my knees for a moment, breathing hard, sand falling from my hair and armor. Finally free. I looked up at both of them, my voice cracking with gratitude and exhaustion with spiting some sand out of it, that was dusting constantly in on it." Thank you. I really thought I was going to stay buried there until noon." Galer placed a firm hand on my shoulder, his expression a mix of relief and lingering worry.

"We weren't going to leave you. Not after everything. But like you suggest only when most of them left for the battle which they finally did." Iskatot handed me a water satchel.

"Drink. Quickly. We don't have much time to linger around for." took the satchel with shaking hands and drank deeply, the cool water soothing my parched throat. Some spilled down my chin, but I didn't care.

"Ahhhhhh… so refreshing, I tell you," I gasped, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. A weak, grateful laugh escaped me.

"I never thought water could taste this much better than it already does." Galer gave a small smile, but his eye remained alert.

"Save the celebration. We still have to get out of here alive." We immediately started running into the thorny shrub forest, moving as quietly as possible through the narrow gaps between the razor-sharp branches. One problem, though. In my relief at finally being free, I had spoken a little too loudly when I drank the water. My voice, which was still raspy but carrying in the quiet night had echoed just enough through the shrubs. Some of the remaining soldiers caught wind of it almost immediately.

I could already hear alarmed voices shouting not far behind us: "HEY! He is free! The outsider is running into the forest! Warn the others, while we will catch him!" Boots pounded against the sand. Torches flickered to life in the distance. We were now being actively hunted. My heart sank as the realization hit me.

"Damn it… my voice. I was too loud." Galer shot me a quick, tense glance while running.

"Focus. We deal with it now. Keep moving!" Iskatot's voice was low and urgent as he led the way.

"Stay low and quiet from here on. The shrubs will help hide us, but they know the terrain better than we do, so keep moving." We pushed deeper into the thorny maze, the sharp needles scraping against my new armor as we ran. Every sound behind us every shout, every snapping branch made my pulse race faster as my thought was all about not being caught. While running, I asked anxiously between breaths, "Where is the carriage?" Iskatot replied without slowing down, his voice steady.

"I hid it on the other side, where you were first caught." My anxiety spiked.

"There's currently no way we can run straight there, is there?" Iskatot shook his head grimly.

"No. We'll have to take a longer, circling route." I nodded, pushing through the pain in my still-recovering arms.

"Then let's move. I don't plan on getting buried again today or tonight." As we ran in a zig-zag formation, I couldn't help but laugh breathlessly.

"This kind of makes me think of the Run to Glory from Tabraca." Galer let out a short, incredulous laugh despite the danger.

"We are in deep trouble and you're thinking about the Run to Glory event?" I answered with a light, almost manic laugh.

"Hah yes, I do."

"Erumes, you're crazy in your reckless head of yours" Galer said, shaking his head, "but please concentrate on this right now!" As we kept running in a zig-zag pattern through the dense shrub. From the left side, four foraging Lakjoh warriors suddenly appeared and caught us off guard, forcing us to change direction. Then six more ambushed us from the right. They had unluckily or luckily for them... stumbled upon us while searching for food.

We kept changing direction desperately until we broke into a different area of land. There, in a clearing, stood a massive stone building descending into the earth, surrounded by carefully uprooted shrubs in a holy, symmetrical design. It was a temple which was massive in scale. Its brown stone structure rose powerfully from the earth like an ancient guardian. Fifty soldiers guarded it, and one man in particular stood out in the whole bunch a 1.

79 meters tall with lush brown hair tied in a man bun, mutton chops connecting near his chin, and a special orange-and-black saif sword glowing with inner fiery light in his right hand. He was currently fighting ten defenders blocking him from the entrance down. Too late to change direction. We ran straight into the active chaos. The 50 soldiers guarding the temple were stunned by the sudden appearance of foreigners so deep in their sacred territory.

Their formation faltered for a split second, eyes wide with confusion and rising alarm. Then ten more warriors from the same tribe as the defenders arrived from a side path, weapons drawn, creating the illusion that reinforcements had already been called in for them. Panic began to spread like wildfire among the attackers. One soldier shouted desperately, "Pull back! We can't hold this position!"

But the man with the glowing saif, Abushal, the 3rd son of Kabir Kirgula from Nabatea roared with fanatical defiance: "No way! I am so close to getting the other legacy piece to become the rightful Kabīr of our tribe and more!" His voice echoed through the stone chamber, filled with raw ambition and madness.

"Father is preparing for the war over the Wadi River as always, while I am going for the real piece of might that lies here! Did I not tell you yesterday that I orchestrated the attack with some of my elites? They sacrificed themselves so the Lakjoh would assume it was under my father's orders! This signals an act of war, but with the mercenaries protecting his base, the losses will be manageable. When I return wearing Zaphari's legacy armor with his sword, this rivalry between our factions will end forever!"

In his delirious, power-hungry state, Abushal turned his burning eyes directly toward us, a twisted smile spreading across his face.

"Hey, Gharīb! What are you doing on this holy temple? Are you going for the legacy too?" His sword flared brighter with fiery light as he raised it, clearly preparing to strike us down without hesitation. Iskatot instantly jumped forward like a shadow, attacking the man with lethal intent. Galer tried to ask why they were engaging so aggressively, but Iskatot answered grimly through the chaos, his voice cold and certain: "This man has no intention of letting us go in the first place answering his questions or not.

I can feel it in his Animo which is growing. He wants to kill us all." The man with the glowing saif laughed darkly.

"Oops… you got me. I wanted to pry for information on how many of you Gharīb scum are crawling through our lands." He struck Iskatot back with overwhelming force, sending him crashing into a pillar. Then, turning toward the temple, he roared an order: "Cut them in half!" One side of his forces clashed with the temple guards, while the other turned on us, the Gharīb along with the 10 confused but now understanding Lakjoh warriors who had followed us.

The Nabatea soldiers wore clothing similar to the Lakjoh, only without the baldrics and with wider brownish shoulder pauldrons. The battle turned into a chaotic three-way melee swords clashing, Animo flaring, and blood spilling across the ancient stone floor. The man with the saif, along with three of his elite warriors, forced his way inside the temple while two desperate guards tried to stop him. The fighting intensified.

I could only fight with my legs, loading my Heart Flame into them to make my movements swift and explosive. It was risky, but I knew I couldn't overload them too heavily or I would repeat what happened to my arms. I dodged saif slashes and stabs that grazed my armor, each near-miss sending sparks flying. Iskatot transformed into his Shadribo Vestuto. His weapon became a sickle with a chain flail enveloped in pitch-dark veil, hardening into a terrifying weapon.

He gained access to heightened abilities: Shadow Veil: Allowing him to become completely intangible in shadows, moving at extreme speeds of 825 km/h by jumping from shadow to shadow (though he couldn't attack while intangible). Umbral Dominion: Manipulating and solidifying his own shadow to triple the mass of his weapon to 6 kg, creating devastating attacks with a speed of 900 km/h and an impact force of 380 tons.

Abyssal World: Creating up to 5 perfect shadow duplicates that could fight independently, allowing him to instantly switch positions with them. With this transformation, Iskatot fought on nearly equal terms with the invading force. Galer and I had to deal more time with the mixed Lakjoh and Nabatea soldiers. The intensity of crossing blades in such madness was strangely exhilarating, a deadly dance where every mistake meant death was pushing my heart beep into greater rhythm to return to my old self faster.

Galer eventually transformed into his Prism Sovereign Vestuto, increasing our chances. For a good 9 minutes, we held our ground. Then the temple rumbled violently. The man Abushal air-walked upward, destroying the roof as he exited. He now wore Zaphari's legacy armor, the same fiery orange color as his saif, pulsating with overwhelming power.

The entire area of 150 kilometers, where the two tribes were battling on a distant hillside saw the orange spirals rising into the sky, growing stronger by the second like a pulsating beat. The man landed with a heavy thud, ecstatic with his newfound strength.

"All of you... come at me!" he ordered. It didn't feel like a suggestion. It felt like a command. In the chaos, we all decided to team up: 37 Nabatea, 11 Lakjoh, and 3 outsiders making it a total of 51 warriors against 1 man in new armor. The battle became insanely intense. His Animo and spirit level rose to an overwhelming degree, dwarfing everyone around him. We rushed him together. The man stood still for a moment… then moved. One of his own soldiers was suddenly pierced.

The man was so much faster than any of us had ever witnessed, breaking the limits of speed we knew where possible, and it was still growing stronger. But he was also losing his mind as it seemed he was talking to himself. He began speaking to the weapon, as if he was arguing with it, just after killing one of his own people. We couldn't run. We felt like we had to take a stand or we would perish like cowards. The man's power felt as devastating as Siegfried's had been for me back in my young age. Hope seemed lost…

on all others Until the remaining 1, 000 Lakjoh warriors who had returned from the battle arrived, drawn by the massive pulsations in the sky. Seeing the man wearing Zaphari's legacy armor and recognizing his clothing, they immediately understood something was terribly wrong. The Lakjoh warriors, attacked him with fury in mind trying to retrieve the sacred item that belonged to their tribe. We attacked again with renewed desperation.

But his Animo, with its constant pulsating energy spiraling into the sky, grew even stronger. His swing became faster than before, with a blur of orange fire and steel. In a single devastating motion, he killed 30 Lakjoh veterans so quickly we could barely register it. One moment they were charging… the next, we blinked and saw their bodies falling in clean, precise cuts. At least 24 cuts had been made in the blink of an trained eye, slicing them into small, gruesome cubes. His Animo surged again.

The numbers of the fallen climbed rapidly to 244 lost soldiers. With our eyes fixed on him in pure fear, he stood there in the middle of the carnage, speaking gibberish as if arguing with the armor and the sword like they were his companions or perhaps his masters. His voice split into multiple tones, arguing, laughing, and cursing all at once. Every time we tried to run, his pulsating aura stopped us forcing our spirit from taking steps backwards.

We could only move forward, never backward Finally, after 29 minutes of hellish combat, the two main tribes arrived at the source of the constant pulsations. The two Kabīrs stood in the middle witnessing what has happened on the sacred ground. Abushal yelled for his father… but the man was no longer one person. Three different voices released from his mouth at once. One voice screamed desperately with a plead: "Father, run away!" Another snarled with ambition: "I will gain control, Asahri!"

While the third roared with pure violence: "No, I will gain control, Warbil!" The man's face twisted in agony as tears streamed down his cheeks. His son, still holding the glowing saif, charged straight into both armies, decimating their numbers in seconds. Both Kabīrs understood in that moment, the son was no longer salvageable state and now needs to be disposed off. It hurt the father the most. Seeing his youngest son flying into the shrubland, cutting down warriors left and right, Kirgula's heart broke.

But he had no choice. He released his Vestuto with a thunderous roar: "Faris Arreesh!" which was Wind attribute. His clothing transformed into the armor of a true knight, vibrant green neon with metallic wings that granted him immense power. His helmet reshaped into a majestic bird beak. His weapon became massive gauntlets that doubled in size. His power now rivaled his son's. The old man of Lakjoh with his cane, Bural, slammed it into the ground and called forth his own Vestuto:"Sablethorn!"

A fusion between the majestic Arabian Oryx and the fearless Arabian Honey Badger. The result was a humanoid earth-attribute warrior clad in living armor tough, relentless, and terrifying. His skin transformed into dense, layered living osmium-sand armor that looked like forged black steel mixed with ironcoal. The plates were thick yet flexible, overlapping like a honey badger's loose, rubbery hide, allowing him to absorb massive impacts without breaking.

His helmet fused with two long, razor-sharp Oryx horns nearly 1. 2 meters long. Glowing golden eyes peered out fearlessly. Thick gauntlets ended in long black metallic claws reinforced with earth minerals. A flowing black-and-gold cape of hardened hide trailed behind him. A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. His abilities were: Earthshatter Gauntlets: Channeling seismic force through his claws and fists, causing localized earthquakes.

Sable Regeneration: Extremely high durability and rapid regeneration — damaged plates shed and reformed instantly by pulling minerals from the earth. Horn of the Dune Lord: Lighting up his horns with brown energy, increasing his Animo and allowing him to summon controlled sand twisters. Unyielding Rage: The more damage he took, the stronger and more durable his armor became. Both Kabirs fought the broken man with everything they had.

Kirgula was initially ahead, coming close to ending the battle, but he could not bring himself to deliver the final blow to his own son with his Spear rotating drill. In that moment of hesitation, he was cut down by a powerful shockwave and crashed into the ground, ending his participation. Bural was not so merciful. He fought with ruthless efficiency, growing stronger the more damage he took from him.

Every blow he received only fueled his Unyielding Rage, causing his living osmium-sand armor to thicken and regenerate faster, the plates shifting and hardening like living stone. The two clashed in a cataclysmic duel that shook the entire Region. Abushal swung his fiery saif in wide, blazing arcs that left trails of orange flame in the air. Each strike carried the weight of three personalities fighting for dominance one aggressive and wild, one cold and calculating, one completely unhinged.

The blade moved so fast it created afterimages, forcing Bural to dodge and block with his massive gauntlets, sparks and sand exploding on every impact. Bural countered with raw seismic power. He slammed his Earthshatter Gauntlets into the ground, sending shockwaves that cracked the ancient stone floor and launched jagged pillars of earth toward Abushal.

When the madman tried to close the distance, Bural met him head-on, their weapons colliding with a force that created a visible shockwave, pushing both fighters back several meters. Abushal who lost control who was now under the saif, which was named Warbil laughed maniacally as he activated the full power of Zaphari's legacy armor working together with Asahri. Fiery spirals erupted around him, increasing his speed dramatically.

He became a blazing whirlwind of death, his saif moving in unpredictable patterns slashing low, then suddenly reversing into overhead strikes. One particularly vicious cut grazed Bural's shoulder, slicing through a layer of his armor and drawing blood. But Bural only grinned through the pain.

"You think you can break me so easily?" he roared. He activated Horn of the Dune Lord, lighting up his long Oryx horns with a fierce brown glow. The ground around him answered his call, a massive sand twister erupted, pulling Abushal Body into its violent core. The storm raged with incredible force, grinding against the fiery armor and tearing at the man's flesh. Abushal screamed in fury and broke free with a powerful explosion of flame and Animo, his three personalities arguing loudly inside his head as he did so.

The two warriors collided again and again. Bural's regeneration kept him in the fight, but Abushal's raw speed and growing power started to overwhelm him. A devastating kick from Abushal sent Bural crashing through a stone pillar. Another flaming slash opened a deep wound across his chest. Yet Bural refused to fall. With a primal roar, he poured everything into one final technique. He slammed both Earthshatter Gauntlets into the ground, creating a localized earthquake that split the temple floor.

Massive spikes of hardened sand and stone erupted upward, impaling Abushal from below while the strongest sandstorm he could summon engulfed the man completely. The damage should have been fatal. For a moment, everything went silent. Then Abushal exploded out of the storm with a bloodcurdling scream, his Animo surging to an even higher level. His armor still regenerating back to its original state unlike the vessels body were torn and bleeding, but the two personalities inside him refused to let the vessel die.

He was no longer fully human. With a strong pulsating wave of overwhelming Animo, he forced everyone to the ground, even those who had desperately tried to resist. The pressure was absolute. Warriors fell to their knees, some collapsing completely, their bodies trembling under the sheer weight of his power. The air itself felt heavy, suffocating, as if the world was bowing before a false god or demon. The vessel of the broken body that once belonged to Abushal turned slowly toward his father.

The twisted beings inside him wanted to destroy the last thing the son was still clinging to as a last hope in his mind. They forced him to land heavily beside his bleeding father, Kirgula. The saif hovered at his neck, the fiery blade trembling with three conflicting wills fighting for ultimate sole control closing Abushal spirit in his own prison. He swung. In that final, heart-wrenching moment, the son's true personality of Abushal broke through with a desperate, agonized cry.

Tears streamed down his face as he fought with everything he had left. With one last act of love and defiance, he twisted the blade's deadly arc away from his father… and turned it toward his own neck instead.

"Father… I'm sorry…" he whispered, voice cracking with raw pain and regret. Kirgula's eyes widened in horror and heartbreak.

"No!" But it was too late. The sword bit deep into Abushal's neck. The father watched his son's tears fall as the blade cut into flesh, the boy he had raised, the son he had failed, now sacrificing himself to protect him and all others from the monsters inside his mind, whom tried to heal the damage and slowly pull the weapon out. But with one leg, Kirgula forced himself up, grabbed the sword with trembling hands, and pulled it with all his remaining strength to the other side...

severing the connection to his son's brain completely. Ending the war of legacy. Abushal's body fell. The two voices screamed in unison for one final moment in denial of the short control of life they had… then fell silent forever. Battle Report: Lakjoh: 48, 000 down to 31, 347 Nabatea: 50, 000 down to 42, 298 Mercenaries of Nabatea: 2, 121 down to 0