The clash of steel rang out through the room as Ubuntu's sabres connected with the soldiers' weapons. Sparks flew with each strike, and the echo of metal on metal reverberated through the stone walls. The heavily armored troops that had stormed in moved with precision, their formation tight and practiced, but they were up against someone they hadn't prepared for: Ubuntu.
As he blocked a downward strike from one of the soldiers, Ubuntu's grin widened. "You guys are really bringing this whole evil army aesthetic to life. Props for the shiny armor."
The soldier didn't respond—no surprise there—and pushed forward, trying to overpower Ubuntu with sheer force. But Ubuntu was already moving, slipping to the side and bringing the flat of his blade against the back of the soldier's knee, forcing him to stumble. He kicked the man forward into one of his comrades, sending them both crashing into the table.
Jon, meanwhile, was circling nervously behind Ubuntu, his dagger held up awkwardly. "So, uh, what do I do?"
"Try not to die," Ubuntu shot back, rolling under another sword strike and coming up behind a soldier to jab the hilt of his sabre into the back of his head, knocking him out cold. "And if you see an opening, maybe don't trip this time."
Jon flushed, clearly trying to muster some courage, and lunged at a soldier who was distracted by Ubuntu's onslaught. His knife made contact, barely grazing the man's arm, but it was enough to draw the soldier's attention.
"Hey, I did it!" Jon shouted, his excitement a little too loud for the situation.
The soldier, not amused, swung his blade at Jon, who barely managed to jump out of the way, tripping over his own feet in the process and landing flat on his back.
"Jon!" Ubuntu shouted, his eyes flashing with frustration as he deflected another strike. "You're not helping if you're horizontal!"
Jon scrambled to his feet, his face red with embarrassment. "Sorry! Just—uh—trying to be useful!"
Before the soldier could close the distance, Ubuntu grabbed Jon by the collar and pulled him behind a table for cover. The sounds of heavy footsteps echoed around them as the soldiers tried to regroup.
"Okay, new rule," Ubuntu said between breaths, keeping an eye on the soldiers, "don't announce your victories until after you're sure you didn't just get yourself killed."
"Got it," Jon replied, still breathless, nodding like a chastised puppy.
One of the soldiers barked an order, and the group fanned out, blocking all exits. It was clear they were taking things more seriously now.
"This is getting tedious," Ubuntu muttered, peering over the table. "Time for plan B."
Jon blinked, eyes wide. "What's plan B?"
Ubuntu gave him a grin that didn't inspire much confidence. "Plan B is... we do what we do best. I make a mess, and you... well, just try to keep up."
Before Jon could argue, Ubuntu vaulted over the table and charged at the soldiers again. He moved with blinding speed, his sabres slashing through the air, blocking and attacking in a fluid, deadly dance. The soldiers tried to surround him, but every time they thought they had him cornered, he slipped through their defenses, moving faster than they could react.
Meanwhile, Jon—against all odds—managed to keep himself out of harm's way, darting between fallen chairs and overturned tables. Occasionally, he'd attempt to help by distracting a soldier with a poorly timed shout or by throwing something vaguely threatening, like a wine goblet.
Ubuntu ducked beneath another sword swing, then swept his leg out, knocking the soldier off balance. He finished the move with a swift strike to the back of the man's head, sending him crumpling to the floor.
"That's three down," Ubuntu muttered, glancing at the remaining soldiers, who were regrouping for another assault. "And only... what, seven to go? Great."
Just as the soldiers started their next charge, the large double doors of the room swung open with a deafening thud. Standing in the doorway was a tall figure, draped in dark robes, the emblem of the Sovereign gleaming in silver on his chest. His eyes were sharp and cold, like he could freeze the air with a look alone.
Behind him, more soldiers filed into the room, filling the space with the clank of armor and the tension of sheer, organized power.
"Ah, perfect," Ubuntu muttered under his breath, shaking his head. "More of you guys. Should've known the Sovereign wouldn't send just a small group."
The robed man stepped forward, his voice low and commanding. "You're the one they call Ubuntu. You've interfered with the Sovereign's plans one too many times."
Ubuntu wiped a bit of dust from his cheek with the back of his hand. "Yeah, about that—I thought I'd do you guys a favor and stop you before you embarrass yourselves even more. Turns out, you didn't take the hint."
The robed man didn't blink. "Surrender now, and you might live to see another day."
"Live to see another day? That sounds awfully conditional." Ubuntu twirled his sabres, eyeing the approaching soldiers. "How about we skip the boring parts and jump to the part where I beat you guys and get the information I came for?"
The man's expression remained cold, but his hand raised ever so slightly. The temperature in the room dropped, and the soldiers around him straightened, their grips tightening on their weapons. This wasn't just a merchant's goon squad anymore.
With a snap of the robed man's fingers, the soldiers advanced.
"Jon, get behind me!" Ubuntu shouted as he stepped forward, his sabres gleaming in the dim light.
"Already there!" Jon yelped, ducking behind an overturned chair.
The first of the Sovereign's soldiers rushed forward, faster and more coordinated than the ones Ubuntu had just faced. They moved like a well-oiled machine, each one covering the other's blind spots, their blades flashing as they closed in on him.
But Ubuntu was faster.
He darted between them, his sabres moving in quick, lethal arcs. One soldier lunged at him, but Ubuntu sidestepped, bringing his sabre down hard on the man's outstretched arm, disarming him in an instant. Another tried to flank him, but Ubuntu spun, blocking the attack with one sabre while slashing upward with the other, cutting through the man's defenses.
The rest of the soldiers hesitated, clearly thrown off by his speed and precision.
"Come on, boys," Ubuntu taunted, grinning. "You're supposed to be the Sovereign's elite, aren't you? You're making this too easy."
The robed man in the doorway narrowed his eyes. With another gesture, a strange, humming noise filled the room. The air around the soldiers began to shimmer, and suddenly, they moved faster—much faster.
Ubuntu blinked, barely dodging the next strike. "Okay, that's new."
The soldiers came at him again, their movements almost a blur now. Ubuntu had to fight harder to keep up, his sabres clashing with their blades at a furious pace. They were relentless, their attacks coming from every angle, and even he was starting to feel the pressure.
"Jon!" Ubuntu shouted, deflecting another blow. "A little help would be great right about now!"
Jon, still crouched behind the chair, peeked over the top with wide eyes. "I'm trying! But they're really fast!"
"No kidding!" Ubuntu snapped, sidestepping a downward strike and retaliating with a sweeping slash that forced one of the soldiers back.
Just as the soldiers closed in again, a sudden burst of light filled the room, blinding everyone for a moment. The soldiers faltered, shielding their eyes, and even the robed man seemed momentarily stunned.
Amara stepped through the doorway, her hand raised, glowing with magical energy. "I leave you alone for five minutes, and you start a war in a Guild house?"
Ubuntu grinned despite the chaos. "You know me, Amara—just trying to keep things exciting."
Amara sighed, stepping forward and releasing another wave of magic that sent the soldiers reeling. "We need to get out of here. Now."
"Fine by me," Ubuntu said, his sabres still raised. "But first—" He pointed one of the blades at the robed man. "You. Tell me what the Sovereign's planning."
The robed man straightened, his cold gaze unflinching. "You can't stop him. His power is beyond your comprehension. This world will fall, and so will yours."
Ubuntu's eyes narrowed. "Yeah, we'll see about that."
Amara, realizing they were running out of time, grabbed Ubuntu by the arm. "Let's go!"
With one last look at the robed man, Ubuntu reluctantly sheathed his sabres and followed Amara toward the exit. Jon, still fumbling with his knife, scrambled after them, casting one last glance at the soldiers before bolting through the door.
As they raced through the streets of Valarys, the weight of the confrontation hung heavy in the air. The Sovereign's forces were moving, and it was clear that whatever came next would be bigger—and far more dangerous—than anything they had faced so far.
But for now, they had made it out alive. And as far as Ubuntu was concerned, that was a win.