Mark's gaze was trapped in Sasha's piercing green eyes, like a deer caught in the headlights, frozen in terror. He tried to step back, but his legs seemed rooted to the spot, refusing to obey his brain's frantic commands. His voice trembled as he asked:
"Hey, can I...like...sit down now?" The words came out in a hesitant whisper, as if seeking permission from Sasha to move, as if his very existence depended on her approval.
Sasha's response was laced with a subtle smirk, her voice dripping with amusement: "Your fear is not mine to claim. I'm not using any pressure to restrain your movements, Mark." She paused, her eyes glinting with a knowing glint, as if daring him to try and move:
"You're free to sit, stand, or flee...if you can summon the courage." The words hung in the air like a challenge, taunting Mark to break free from his paralysis.
Mark's mind rebelled against the grandiose words resolve and courage. He thought to himself:
'I hate it when people use hard words like that. I don't have any of that; I'm just stubborn.' As he struggled to sit down, his body trembled as if an invisible force was pushing him down, his muscles quivering like leaves in a gusty wind.
Sasha's eyes sparkled with amusement as she observed Mark's struggle:
"Wow, you sat down. I'm impressed. Not even a new Level Two knight would have the courage to sit down in front of me" she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She sat down in front of Mark, her slick grin spreading across her face like a Cheshire cat's.
"You know what I want. Give me that mask of yours." Her expression transformed from playful to serious in the blink of an eye, her eyes narrowing like a predator zeroing in on its prey.
Mark met her gaze, his voice steady despite the turmoil within.
"As much as I'd like to give you the mask, I can't. I bonded with it, and only someone with the same blood as me can remove it, or if it gets destroyed." He spoke truthfully, his words tumbling out like a confession. Lying was like a foreign language to him, he found it harder to deceive than to tell the truth.
Sasha's grin returned, her eyes glinting with a sinister light:
"There's another way you can give it to me."
Mark's curiosity piqued, he asked:
"And what might that be?" His mind raced with the possibilities, hoping to find a clue to break the bond, it might help in the ending of sword bonding.
Sasha's response was like a whispered secret:
"Becoming one." She leaned in closer, her breath caressing Mark's ear, sending shivers down his spine.
"Becoming one with me, Mark." The words hung in the air like a tantalizing promise, or a deadly threat.
Ginger and the four village Chiefs stood firm, facing the hail of swords. The villagers all stared at Ginger, then looked away, their eyes filled with a mix of fear and awe. Emily and Asami stood behind the village, their presence a steady anchor. The villagers formed a queue, row upon row, column after column, fitting all five hundred plus people into a neat and orderly formation.
"Hey Asami, do you think what Ginger said will work?" Emily asked, her voice laced with concern, as she gripped her sword tightly, her hair blowing in the wind like a flowing river. The sun cast a golden glow on her determined face, highlighting the faint scar above her left eyebrow.
Asami's expression turned worried, her eyes furrowed in thought:
"Yeah, if it doesn't work, we'll have to wait for Mark and Zico," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper, her hand on the hilt of her own sword.
Emily nodded curtly, her eyes scanning the horizon:
"Yeah," she said, her voice firm, her jaw set in determination.
Just then, Ginger's voice rang out, loud and clear:
"Now!" she shouted, her arm raised like a conductor leading an orchestra. In response, each of the village Chiefs, including the Level Two village Chief, pulled out their swords in a synchronized motion, the metal glinting in the sunlight. With a swift, graceful movement, they transformed into their Armorments, their bodies encased in shimmering suits of armor, their faces hidden behind gleaming helmets. The air was filled with the soft hum of energy, as the armor seemed to come alive, ready for battle.
"Advance!" Ginger shouted, his voice booming across the landscape, as he raised his arm like a general leading his troops into battle.
The village Chiefs headed forward, their armor glinting in the sunlight, their swords held high. As they entered the sword hail, the swirling blades suddenly parted, creating a narrow pathway in the middle. The village Chiefs marched forward, each one stopping about 10 meters ahead of the other, creating a staggered formation.
First, the Level Two village Chief, with his imposing physique and gleaming silver armor, marched forward, his sword held vertically in front of him. He stopped abruptly, his armor creaking slightly, as he gazed up at the swirling blades. The blades hummed and whirred, their sharp edges glinting in the sunlight, but they didn't move, allowing the village Chiefs to pass.
Next, the second village Chief, with her lithe figure and shimmering golden armor, advanced, her sword held horizontally across her body. She stopped about 10 meters ahead of the first Chief, her eyes fixed on the sword hail, her armor glowing with a soft golden light.
The third village Chief, with his rugged features and gleaming copper armor, marched forward, his sword held at a 45 degree angle. He stopped about 10 meters ahead of the second Chief, his eyes scanning the sword hail with a practiced gaze.
This pattern continued, each village Chief advancing and stopping in a staggered formation, creating a sense of deliberate and calculated progression. The air was tense with anticipation as they moved forward, their armor gleaming like a series of shining sentinels.
Finally, Ginger reached the point where the blade hail began, and he stopped, his armor glowing with a soft blue light. The hail of blades swirled above her, a mesmerizing display of precision.
As each village Chief reached the end of the hail of blades, they stopped, forming a line of armored figures that stretched towards the horizon. And at the very end of this line, beyond the last village Chief, lay a bright, cloudy region that seemed to pulse with an otherworldly energy, the Edge of the Sword Domain. The cloudy region glowed with a soft, ethereal light, beckoning the warriors forward like a mystical siren's call.
The villagers followed their leaders into the pathway, marching towards the edge of the Sword Domain. They walked with determination, their eyes fixed on the unknown dangers ahead. The sword hail closed behind them, and they formed a river of steel and armor, flowing towards the Edge of the Sword Domain.