[Enter Babylon, 323 BC]
The pain was familiar, a sharp spear to my gut, as if Hephaestion himself had struck me from beyond the grave. My limbs grew cold and my vision blurred. Death, it seemed, had finally come to claim Alexander the Great.
I was surrounded by my generals, their faces a sea of tension and concern. Death was supposed to be a glorious end for a warrior, but there was no glory here in Babylon, only the stench of despair.
My final command parted from my lips to my faithful generals "I will depart from this world soon, I have three wishes, please carry them out without fail."
"Stay with us, my king," one of them pleaded, his face becoming hazy. And in response, I could only smile, my lips parched and cracked.
Before the shadows could fully claim me, there was a sudden flash, a dazzling light that seemed to tear the very fabric of existence. A force like the mighty Boreas swept me off my feet and into the heart of the vortex. I braced myself, not for death, but for the unknown.
[Leave Babylon, 323 BC]
I woke not in the Elysian Fields, but in a strange, metallic chamber filled with an eerie blue light. Panic rose like bile in my throat as I realized I was not dead. I was somewhere...else.
An unfamiliar object was attached to my arm, its surface glowing with symbols and numbers I didn't recognize. A surge of energy coursed through me, relieving my pain and making my senses sharper. Was this Chiron's medicine? Or a gift from Asclepius himself? I didn't know, but I was grateful for the reprieve it offered.
I tore the device off, examining it. It was unlike any artifact I'd ever seen, smooth and humming with some unseen power. Touching its surface, I willed it to show me its purpose.
Suddenly, it projected a three-dimensional map, showing me a vast city of towering structures that pierced the clouds, glowing paths that weaved through the air, and machines flying like Icarus in the sky. It was the world outside, but not as I knew it.
The sound of heavy footsteps echoed through the chamber, and a door slid open with a hiss. Figures in dark armor, their faces hidden behind visors, rushed in. Their weapons hummed ominously, aimed at me.
"Stay where you are!" One of them shouted in a language I did not understand. But the universal language of aggression needs no translation. I understood enough.
Despite the odds, I had been a warrior too long to surrender now. Using the strange device, I manipulated the symbols on its surface, replicating what I had done to create the map. A blue shield of light sprung from it, deflecting the bright beams from their weapons.
With a cry that would have made Ares proud, I charged, using the element of surprise and my combat skills to disarm my closest attacker. His weapon, a rod of metal and light, burned hot in my hand. It seemed like a hoplite's spear, yet vastly different. But a weapon is a weapon, and I was a quick learner.
Outside the chamber, the crowded city was like a labyrinth, buildings of glass and steel replacing the simple stone and mud I knew. The people moved with their eyes glued to small, glowing tablets, oblivious to my plight as I sprinted through the crowd. The pursuers in their menacing armor followed, their weapons sending pulses of deadly light whizzing past me.
The city was a battlefield, and I was Alexander the Great. And as I've learned over countless wars and skirmishes, on the battlefield, there is no surrender, only fight, or die. I was not ready for the latter. Not yet.
My flight through the city was a dizzying rush of steel and light, a testament to mankind's apparent advancement, yet an undeniable symbol of its loss. The city was a cold, emotionless place, its inhabitants' gazes vacant, their spirits seemingly as muted as their monochrome attire.
The metallic monsters that roared overhead terrified me less than the pervasive silence that cloaked the bustling streets, a silence that screamed of oppression and fear. I had thought I'd escaped death's clutches, only to find myself in another kind of Hades, a world devoid of warmth, passion, or honor.
From behind, I could hear the relentless pursuit of the armored soldiers, their shouts, and the shrill whine of their weapons. Fear was my constant companion, but so was determination. I would not yield. Not here, not in this foreign land that had become my unexpected battleground.
I sought refuge in the serpentine alleys, their shadows providing me with cover. Every face that passed me was marked with indifference, their eyes never meeting mine. Their passivity angered me. Had this world stripped them of their courage, their ability to rebel?
Suddenly, the device attached to my arm vibrated, illuminating with a pulsing light. Unsure, but desperate, I touched the illuminated symbol. An ethereal shield sprung forth, encasing me within its protective glow. It was a defense far beyond my understanding, but I wasn't in a position to question its providence.
The relentless pursuit forced me to the edge of the city, where the skeletal remains of older structures, remnants of a time closer to my own, rose against the backdrop of a polluted, cloud-covered sky. This wasteland was my Thermopylae, the narrow pass where I had to make my stand.
With a deep breath, I turned, facing my pursuers. Their weapons hummed ominously, casting an eerie glow in the shadowed alleyway. Their leader, a larger figure encased in a suit of dark armor, stepped forward. His voice boomed from behind his visor, a mechanical growl that echoed off the ruined walls.
"Surrender, anomaly!"
I clenched my fist around the device, feeling the unfamiliar hum of its power. I was Alexander the Great, a conqueror, a warrior. I faced death in battle before, but I never surrendered. And I would not start now.
"I am Alexander," I declared, my voice reverberating with the resolve that had led me to victories in countless battles. "I do not surrender."
Their leader laughed, a chilling sound that echoed off the cold steel of the city. "Then you will die," he said, his weapon humming with charged energy.
Maybe I would. But even if I were to meet Hades today, I would do so on my terms. As a warrior. As a conqueror. As Alexander the Great. I readied myself, raising the glowing device. This was a strange, terrifying world, but it was a world that needed to be freed from its chains, even if the people didn't realize it.
The first beam of deadly light rocketed towards me. As I moved to meet it, I knew my fight had just begun.
As the first beam of deathly light hurtled towards me, I rolled, my body acting on the same instincts that had seen me through the bloody sands of countless battlefields. The alleyway's narrowness, which seemed a disadvantage, became a saving grace. It was a narrow pass, not unlike Thermopylae, where numbers meant nothing.
These soldiers were not men. They were mechanical monstrosities, their flesh fused with metal, their eyes glowing with an artificial, cold light. But they had a weakness, the same weakness that every enemy has: they underestimated me.
I took a quick survey of my surroundings. The terrain was treacherous, strewn with rubble and debris, but that only provided me with more ammunition. I seized a chunk of broken concrete, hurling it with all my strength at the nearest cyborg. It struck true, momentarily disrupting its attack.
"Divide and conquer," I murmured to myself, devising a plan in the heat of the moment. I was alone, with no phalanx to form, no cavalry to charge, but the principles of warfare remained the same.
Darting from cover to cover, I managed to split their group, drawing a pair of them away from their comrades. I lured them towards a particularly unstable section of the alleyway, full of precariously balanced debris. With a swift kick to a supporting beam, I sent a rain of rubble onto them, their mechanized screams lost in the crash.
But victory was far from mine. The leader, along with three others, still pursued me. I backpedaled, forcing them to advance. In their eagerness to capture me, they fell into the same pattern that any advancing force would.
"Form the wedge," I muttered to myself, smiling despite the grim situation. I darted suddenly to the right, placing a collapsed structure between myself and two of the cyborgs. The leader and one of his soldiers chased after me, unwittingly leaving their flanks exposed.
They had their phalanx, but I had my cavalry charge. Instead of retreating further, I pivoted, launching myself from the debris with a furious roar, and charged into the leader. We crashed onto the rough terrain, his weapon discharging harmlessly into the air.
The other one was quick to react, but I was quicker. I rolled, using the leader as a shield. The beam struck him, eliciting a howl of surprise and pain. Capitalizing on his momentary weakness, I wrenched the weapon from his hand and discharged it into his face. The cyborg fell, lifeless.
One down, three to go. I squared my shoulders, holding onto the leader's weapon. Fear was a distant concern, overshadowed by the thrill of the fight, the elation of strategizing on the go, the raw essence of survival.
They were stronger, faster, and had the advantage of alien technology, but I was Alexander. I had fought against odds before, won battles that seemed lost. This was my battlefield now, and these were my enemies. And I was not done yet.
Determined, I readied myself for the next assault, my heart pounding with a warrior's unyielding spirit. This was a strange world, a dystopian nightmare, but it was a world that needed a leader, a savior. Perhaps, it needed Alexander the Great.
Victory was never assured, but neither was defeat. As Alexander, I understood this truth. Every battle, every skirmish, was a dance on the blade's edge between triumph and disaster. I had won victories in the face of overwhelming odds, snatched conquests from the jaws of imminent failure.
The cyborgs were relentless in their pursuit, their artificial intelligence incapable of fear or fatigue. Yet, they were predictable in their assault, lacking the capricious spark of human intuition. Their unity was their strength, and it was also their weakness.
Guided by the principles of tactical warfare, I continued my assault. I chose my ground, lured them to terrain where their superior speed and strength were negated, where their numbers became an impediment rather than an advantage.
Their leader, the final barrier between me and my escape, was a formidable adversary. As we clashed, I couldn't help but feel a shred of admiration for this mechanized monster. He was a warrior, as I was, bound by his duty, regardless of the cost.
Finally, when he fell, a lifeless hunk of metal and wire, there was an odd silence. The cacophony of battle, the dissonant symphony of clashing metal and discharged energy, abruptly ceased. It was over. I had survived.
I dragged my exhausted body through the silent city, my mind numb. Eventually, I found a haven, a derelict structure, shadowed and quiet. The edifice was a crumbling monument to a time forgotten, its walls whispering tales of a world that once was. A suitable sanctuary, for now.
As I settled in, I grappled with the reality of my existence. I had been Alexander, a king, a conqueror, a legend. But in this world, I was an anomaly, a relic of a past that had no place in this cold, impersonal future.
I studied the device still attached to my arm. It pulsed gently, like a comforting heartbeat against my skin. It was a lifeline in this alien world, a symbol of my survival. Yet, it was also a stark reminder of how much I was out of sync with this time.
The stillness of the night amplified my thoughts, causing them to ricochet off the silent walls of my sanctuary. Was I truly Alexander in a world that had no use for conquerors, or was I just a man lost in time, trying to make sense of a future that was not mine?
I reflected on the day's events, the confusion, the fear, the exhilaration of battle. Yet, in the midst of it all, there was a glimmer of familiarity, a sliver of hope. I was a stranger in this dystopian landscape, yet I was not powerless.
I was still a warrior. Still a leader. Still Alexander.
As I drifted off into a restless sleep, I clung to these thoughts. I was not just Alexander, the king or the conqueror. I was Alexander, the survivor. And survive in this new world, I will.