The victorious cries of the Filipinos echoed through the dense forest as Amaron led his tribe away from the smoldering remains of the Iberian camp. The dawn's light filtered through the trees, bathing the survivors in an orange glow. Though they had triumphed, Amaron's thoughts lingered on the challenges ahead—Callao's inexplicable attack and the growing strength of the Iberians.
"Chief Amaron," Aling said, stepping forward. The seer's weathered face bore a look of determination. "I can sense the presence of other Iberian camps in this region. Their captives call out to me like whispers in the wind. We must act quickly."
Amaron nodded. "Then we waste no time. We rescue every Filipino left in captivity. Once united, we will march west to Maynilad and crush their main camp."
The warriors around him cheered, their resolve unshaken despite their ragged appearance.
The march westward was not without peril. Aling led the way, her divination guiding them through hidden trails and avoiding Iberian patrols. By the second evening, they arrived at another camp, its defenses tighter and its sentries more vigilant.
Amaron crouched behind a thicket, observing the camp. The Iberian guards wore shining armor adorned with intricate engravings, their weapons reflecting the moonlight. At the center stood a towering iron cage, where over a dozen Filipinos huddled together in fear.
"The Iberians grow stronger," Amaron muttered. "But so do we."
Aling placed a hand on his shoulder. "Their strength lies in their arrogance, Chieftain. They underestimate us."
Amaron turned to his warriors. "Here's the plan: a small group will flank from the east and cause a distraction. The rest of us will breach the western wall. Aling, can you disable their magical defenses?"
The seer nodded, gripping a staff adorned with carved sigils. "Leave it to me."
---
The Battle
The plan unfolded swiftly. As the distraction team set a supply tent ablaze, chaos erupted in the camp. Iberian soldiers scrambled to contain the fire, unaware of the main force slipping through the western defenses.
Amaron led the charge, his machete cutting through enemies with brutal precision. The berserk state surged within him, muscles bulging and veins pulsing as he became a whirlwind of destruction. Each swing shattered armor and bone, scattering the Iberians like leaves in a storm.
Aling chanted under her breath, her staff glowing as she dismantled the camp's magical wards. "The defenses are down! Push forward!" she cried.
The Filipino warriors surged, overwhelming the Iberians. Amaron's gaze locked onto the camp commander, a burly man wielding a greatsword.
"You dare challenge us?" the Iberian roared. "I'll make you regret it!"
Amaron smirked, his voice a low growl. "Your kind has already lost. This ends now."
Their clash was a spectacle of strength and skill. The commander's sword met Amaron's machete with a resounding clang, sparks flying as they exchanged blows. But Amaron's berserk strength proved unmatched. With a final, bone-crushing strike, he felled the commander, his body crumpling to the ground.
---
Liberation
As the dust settled, the surviving Filipinos were freed from the cage. They wept tears of gratitude, bowing before Amaron and his warriors. Among the captives was a young boy who clutched a wooden carving in his hands.
"Thank you, Chieftain," the boy said, his voice trembling. "They told us no one would come, but you did."
Amaron knelt, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder. "No one is left behind. Not while I still breathe."
---
A Growing Alliance
By the end of the second day, Aling's guidance led them to the last of the captives in the region. The tribe's numbers swelled to over two hundred, a force capable of challenging the Iberians.
Quest Completed: Rescue Remaining Filipinos
Reward: 200 Troops
Quest Completed: Annihilate Iberian Camps in Pasik
Reward: +3 Levels
Amaron
Level: 12
Attributes
Strength: 21
Agility: 12
Intellect: 17
Stamina: 20
The tribe stood assembled at the edge of the forest, Maynilad's towering walls visible in the distance. Fires burned in the Iberian stronghold, the faint hum of activity hinting at the challenges to come.
Aling stepped forward. "Chieftain, we are ready. The Iberians will not stand against our united strength."
Amaron raised his machete high. "This is our time. We fight for our people, our land, and our future. No Iberian will survive. Move out!"
The army marched westward, their spirits high and their purpose clear. As they drew closer to Maynilad, the promise of vengeance burned brighter than ever.
The air around Maynilad was heavy with tension, a thick fog curling along the forest floor as Amaron's forces approached the city's towering walls. Fires dotted the Iberian stronghold, and the sound of clanging metal and barking orders echoed into the night. The Iberians were on high alert, their defenses bristling with soldiers prepared for battle.
Amaron stood atop a hill overlooking the city, his machete strapped to his back and his eyes scanning the scene below. His warriors assembled behind him, now numbering over two hundred. Their spirits were high, but the task ahead was daunting.
Aling stepped beside him, her staff glowing faintly in the darkness. "Chieftain, the Iberians have fortified their walls with both physical and magical barriers. This will not be a simple fight."
Amaron nodded, his voice steady. "The harder the fight, the sweeter the victory. What can you tell me about these barriers?"
Aling closed her eyes, murmuring an incantation under her breath. A faint blue aura surrounded her, and moments later, her eyes snapped open. "There are four key wards around the city, each tied to a magical anchor. Destroying those anchors will weaken their defenses and allow us to breach the walls."
Amaron turned to his commanders, including Paranan, now recovered from his wounds. "We'll divide into four teams. Each team will target one anchor. Once the wards are down, we regroup and storm the city."
"What about their soldiers?" Paranan asked. "Their numbers far exceed ours."
"Numbers mean nothing when faced with unity and purpose," Amaron said firmly. "We've defeated them before. We'll do it again."
The teams moved swiftly and silently under the cover of darkness. Amaron led the group tasked with taking out the eastern anchor, a massive obelisk glowing with runes of power. Iberian soldiers patrolled the area, their armor clinking softly in the night air.
"Hold," Amaron whispered, raising a hand. He observed the patrol patterns, his sharp mind devising a plan.
"Aling, disable their magical detection spells. Paranan, lead your group to flank them from the left. We'll strike from the right."
The plan worked seamlessly. As Aling muttered her spell, the obelisk's glow dimmed, and the soldiers hesitated, their confidence shaken. The Filipinos struck with precision and ferocity, their machetes gleaming as they cut through the enemy ranks.
Amaron himself fought like a storm, his berserk state turning him into an unstoppable force. The obelisk crumbled under the combined might of his warriors, its destruction sending a shockwave through the city.
"One down," Amaron said, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Three to go."
By dawn, all four anchors were destroyed. The wards surrounding Maynilad flickered and fell, leaving the walls vulnerable. The Iberians scrambled to reinforce their defenses, but it was too late.
Amaron's army surged forward, scaling the walls with makeshift ladders and ropes. The clash of steel echoed through the air as Filipinos and Iberians met in brutal combat.
Amaron led the charge, his machete cutting through Iberian soldiers with ruthless efficiency. His warriors followed his example, their cries of defiance drowning out the sounds of battle.
As the Filipinos pushed deeper into the city, they encountered the Iberian general. He stood atop a makeshift platform, his golden armor glinting in the sunlight. Beside him stood Callao, bound in chains but visibly struggling against his captors.
"So, you're the infamous Amaron," the general sneered. "Your insolence ends here."
Amaron's eyes narrowed. "You've taken my brother and slaughtered my people. Your reign of terror ends now."
The general laughed, drawing a massive sword crackling with dark energy. "Let's see if you can back up those words."
The battle was fierce, the general's dark magic matching Amaron's berserk strength blow for blow. Sparks flew as their weapons clashed, the ground trembling under the force of their strikes.
As the fight raged on, Aling and a small group of warriors worked to free Callao. The seer placed a hand on his forehead, chanting softly. A dark aura surrounded him, but as Aling's spell took hold, it dissipated, leaving Callao gasping for air.
"Brother," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "I'm... free."
With a final, thunderous strike, Amaron shattered the general's sword and plunged his machete into the man's chest. The general fell to his knees, blood pooling beneath him as the light faded from his eyes.
The remaining Iberians, seeing their leader defeated, dropped their weapons and surrendered. The city of Maynilad belonged to the Filipinos once more.
Quest Completed: Rescue Callao
Reward: Unknown
Quest Completed: Siege of Maynilad
Reward: +5 Levels, Rare Equipment
Amaron
Level: 17
Attributes
Strength: 30
Agility: 15
Intellect: 20
Stamina: 25
New Equipment Acquired:
Sword of the Liberator: A blade infused with the hopes of a free people. (+10 Strength, +5 Intellect)
As the sun set over the reclaimed city, Amaron stood before his people.
"Today, we have struck a blow against our oppressors," he said, his voice carrying across the crowd. "But our fight is far from over. Together, we will rebuild. Together, we will reclaim our land. Together, we will ensure that no one will ever enslave our people again."
The crowd erupted into cheers, their voices a chorus of hope and determination.