As Rufus stepped into the blazing sunlight, the harsh glare stabbed at his eyes, forcing him to shield them with his hand. He was being dragged through Samarqand.
He saw a silver tree, its branches gleaming unnaturally, as though polished by great craftsmen. Suspended from one of its lustrous limbs was the amulet—its surface etched with runes that pulsed faintly in the sunlight. This was no ordinary trinket. It was one of the seals needed to shatter the barrier around the Tower of Cyrus.
But Rufus's gaze didn't linger on the amulet for long. He was taken into a great tent. At the highest point, it stood over twenty meters tall and inside were hundreds od tribal leaders and their warriors. Rufus felt an intimidating presence radiating raw power. Arslan.
The silence was oppressive, the kind that made the world feel like it was holding its breath. Rufus's heart hammered in his chest, but he refused to let his fear show.
Arslan's piercing blue eyes locked onto Rufus with the weight of a thousand unspoken warnings. His jet-black feathered hair fluttered in the breeze like a dark flag heralding doom. When he spoke, his voice resonated with divine authority, deep and unyielding.
"A human to tread upon sacred ground," he said, his tone cold enough to freeze the air around him. "Speak, human. What drives you to such folly?"
Rufus squared his shoulders, summoning every ounce of courage he had. "I seek something the Old Man of the Mountain guards. To claim it, I need that." He pointed to the amulet hanging from the tree, his voice steady despite the thunderous weight of Arslan's presence.
Arslan's eyes flicked toward the amulet, his expression unreadable. "The Old Man," he murmured, disdain dripping from every word. "That deluded sorcerer. He clings to his belief that my brother and I abandoned the Parsana people. Yet time devours all things—mortal and divine alike. They perished as they were too weak to fight against Aganemonon, and you humans."
Rufus smirked, his tone sharp enough to cut. "Even your father, Cyrus, when he faced the mortal Iskander."
The assembled warriors gasped audibly. Kormos, a hulking figure among Arslan's ranks, stepped forward with a snarl, his blade half-drawn. "Silence your insolence, human!" Kormos roared, the tip of his blade claws showing menacingly.
Arslan raised a hand, his calm voice cutting through the tension. "Stand down, Kormos." He stepped forward, "Yes, human, even him. But your history is flawed. Iskander never faced my father in his prime. Not after Cyrus was shackled by the Great White Demon and freed by the hero of the."
The tribal leaders started to yell. Yelling what to do to the human.
"Kill him!"
"Let's us rip his limbs off"
"Death to the human who destroyed an entire city!"
"Enough!" Arslan commanded. "Leave us. All of you."
The warriors hesitated, their loyalty to Arslan evident in their reluctance to depart.
"You as well," Arslan said, his tone unyielding.
Kormos cast a final glare at Rufus before retreating with the others. When the tent was silent once more, Arslan returned his full attention to Rufus.
"Do not mistake restraint for weakness," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "You have trespassed in Samarqand, and your death is assured for your crimes in Erebar. But before you die, you will answer me. What does the Old Man of the Mountain desire?"
Rufus clenched his fists, his resolve unbroken. "He seeks power," he said through gritted teeth. "Power to break the gods' who he so dispises. Power to erase you."
Rufus didn't much care of the old man of the mountain.
Arslan's expression darkened, his calm mask slipping just enough to reveal a glimmer of anger. "Foolish ambitions. He thought never would say it as you said it, but it is just as you said. He thinks he is fighting for some greater goal, but this is all for himself," he said, drawing a massive sword from his side.
"Now tell me, how does he intend to do this?"
Rufus was silent.
Asrlan then raised his blade high. "Pity," he said, almost as an afterthought.
Before the blade could fall, a deafening explosion tore through the area. The ground trembled violently, and the distant cries of battle reached their ears. Arslan froze, his head snapping toward the source of the commotion end left the tent.
The sun vanished behind a massive shadow. Overhead loomed the colossal flying fortress, Shah Burzin from the world of Isra, its dark form blotting out the sky. Its battlements bristled with weapons, and its decks teemed with Sassan warriors. Burzin and more of Xerxe's allies from other worlds of the Sassan heaven had arrived.
Fire rained from the fortress, its projectiles carving fiery paths through the camp below. The cries of tribesmen filled the air as they scattered in panic. Above, Simurgh riders engaged the fortress, their lightning-charged wings crackling with energy as they dove into the fray.
"My lord Arslan!" Gasg, the leader of the Osmal tribe, called out, his voice trembling. "The Simurghs can't hold them off!"
The Simurghs were having a hard time getting close to the flying fortress as ballista bolts were shooting at them. Many sassan warriors with divine powers also were on the battlements.
Arslan remained unfazed. "Calm yourself, Gasg. This is no invasion. It is a test—a provocation."
Unslinging a massive bow from his back, he drew an arrow the size of a spear. The tribesmen watched in awe as he pulled the string taut, the bow creaking under the strain of his immense strength.
With a single, fluid motion, he loosed the arrow. It streaked through the air like a thunderbolt, striking the flying fortress with devastating force. Two of the fortress's towers crumbled under the impact, flames consuming their remains. Smoke billowed from the fortress as it began a slow retreat, ascending into the clouds.
The tribesmen erupted in cheers, but Gasg remained wary. "You're letting them go?"
Arslan smirked faintly. "Burzin's time will come. This was Perizad's ploy to try and send us a message showing how his forces have gathered here. I will deal with them in due course."
He turned and strode back toward the grove, his steps steady. But when he reached the tent, his sharp eyes narrowed.
Rufus had vanished.
Arslan's grip tightened on his sword, his calm veneer cracking. "Run while you can, human," he said under his breath. "But no one escapes from me."