The battle for Uruk had already erupted in full force, the clash of armies echoing across the plains like distant thunder. Yet, Shino and Yacha had not joined the fray. Instead, they retreated to a secluded grove a few miles from the battlefield, the quiet broken only by the rustling of leaves in the wind.
Shino's intentions were never about the thrill of combat or the glory of victory. Her desires ran deeper. She sought something far more significant than mere battle experience for Yacha.
Today, it wasn't about honing his skill without weapons or refining his battle tactics. This time, she had given him an order that would push him to his very limits.
"fight with no weapons, relying only on his raw physical strength and magic."
She wanted him to merge his magic with every fiber of his being. To enhance his body to the level where his fists could rival the sharpest weapons.
Yacha had grown stronger with each battle, mastering elemental attributes that surpassed his peers.
Thunder coursed through his veins like a second heartbeat, and fire danced at his fingertips. He commanded wind, earth, and water with the ease of a seasoned mage.
But it wasn't enough for Shino. She knew there was something dormant within him, a potential far beyond his current abilities. Her goal was clear.
To force Yacha to unlock an abnormal attribute, something rare and powerful, something that could turn the tide of any battle in their favor.
As they flew toward Uruk, the scene awaiting them was less than inspiring. Below, the Akkadian army struggled against the relentless forces of Uruk.
Bloodied bodies littered the ground, and the air was thick with the stench of death and smoke. For all their discipline and might, the Akkadian soldiers were beginning to falter under the sheer strength of their enemies.
King Sargon had arrived late, making his way through the chaos to the palace where Gilgamesh awaited. The legendary king of Uruk. Towering, fearsome, a being of near-mythical strength. Stood as the final obstacle to Akkadia's conquest. Now, inside the palace, Sargon and Gilgamesh clashed in a battle that shook the very walls of the city.
Shino and Yacha hovered silently above the battlefield, their forms like dark omens against the sky. The roar of Uruk's soldiers below was deafening, but it faded into nothing as the two prepared to join the chaos. With a nod to each other, they dove.
Two living weapons crashed into the heart of the enemy's ranks like bombs from the heavens.
The ground split beneath their feet, shockwaves of magic rippling outward, knocking soldiers to the ground like rag dolls. In an instant, they were moving.
Tornadoes of destruction, ripping through the enemy lines. Shino was a blur, her fists crackling with thunder as she crushed the skull of the first man who dared approach her. His body collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut. Without a second thought, she grabbed another by the arm, twisting it with inhuman strength until the bones shattered. His scream was cut short as Shino tore the arm clean off. She beat him with his own limb, his face a bloody pulp by the time she was done.
She moved on, mercilessly, her fire magic igniting soldiers who screamed as their armor melted into their skin.
Yacha was no less brutal. His bare hands became weapons, enhanced by earth magic that turned his fists into spiked hammers.
He drove his knuckles into the chest of a charging soldier, the man's ribs caving in as he flew backward, a trail of blood in his wake. Thunder roared around him, crackling through the air as Yacha summoned a storm of lightning to fry those who dared surround him. His fists collided with flesh, bones snapped, bodies crumpled under the force of his strikes. One soldier tried to raise his sword, but Yacha grabbed the blade with his bare hand, letting the metal bend and warp under his grip before he plunged it into the soldier's throat.
Ursang, Speira, and Eline could only watch in shock from the hill where the generals and commanders stood, frozen by the carnage unfolding below. Blood and fire painted the battlefield red, and their comrades were unrecognizable in the frenzy of death they unleashed. Only Ursang's face contorted in horror as he watched Shino tear through the enemy ranks like a savage beast.
When she ripped a man's arm clean off and used it as a club, beating him until his head was nothing but a splatter of blood and bone, his stomach churned. This was not the Shino he had known.
This was something else, something terrifying.
Yacha's thunder roared louder than the screams, and his fire burned brighter than the flames consuming the city. Together, he and Shino became a force of nature.
Unstoppable, unrelenting, gods of destruction brought to life on the battlefield. Every punch, every kick was lethal, their bare hands more devastating than any weapon. Uruk's soldiers fell, crushed under the weight of their magic, their bodies broken, blood pooling beneath them as the once-mighty army crumbled into ruin.
They were not just warriors.
They were executioners. And the battlefield of Uruk became their stage for slaughter.
Ursang's gaze drifted toward his best friend, Yacha, Where others saw chaos and brutality, Yacha found pure ecstasy in the heat of battle.
Their bond had not weakened, but Yacha had outgrown them, his strength now far beyond the four of them combined.
Yacha and Shino, back to back, as they tore through the enemy ranks. Soldiers fell like wheat to the scythe.
The legends had already begun to form around them.
Shino, the feared *Slayer of Nergal*, And Yacha—whom the soldiers now called by many names—Thunder Reaper, Warden of Hell, Stormbreaker of Uruk.
Yet one title echoed through the ranks louder than the others: *The Bloodless Executioner*. He killed with terrifying speed, his victims had no time to bleed.
The palace trembled under the weight of two titans clashing within its walls. King Sargon, and Gilgamesh, circled each other with the intensity of gods locked in mortal combat. The air was thick with their auras, crackling with elemental fury as the two kings unleashed their might upon one another.
Gilgamesh, his muscles rippling beneath his armor, called forth the elements with a mere gesture. Waves of fire burst from his palms, swirling toward Sargon in a deadly arc.
With a roar, Sargon countered, summoning the wind to redirect the inferno, hurling it into the stone pillars that cracked and crumbled upon impact. Earth erupted from the floor beneath their feet, turning the grand hall into a battlefield of shifting terrain as Gilgamesh sought to trap his foe.
But Sargon was no easy prey. With a flick of his wrist, beams of blinding light shot from his fingertips, searing through the air like arrows of the sun itself. Gilgamesh shielded his eyes, grunting as the intense light forced him to retreat a step, but his telekinetic power brought the debris of the shattered palace crashing down toward Sargon in a deadly barrage.
The Akkadian king was ready. With a grunt of effort, he hurled the rubble aside with his own telekinetic strength, propelling himself through the air like a comet, his fists alight with fire and wind. He collided with Gilgamesh in an explosion of force, sending the Uruk king skidding back across the marble floor.
The palace groaned under their onslaught as their elemental magics clashed.
Fire against water, wind against the earth. The air shimmered with their power, and the once-mighty columns of the palace crumbled into dust around them. Gilgamesh's sheer size and strength gave him the advantage, his massive fists cracking the earth beneath Sargon's feet as he swung at the Akkadian king with the force of a battering ram. Each blow was like a thunderclap, echoing through the ruinous hall.
But Sargon was swift and cunning, dodging the strikes with graceful precision. As he weaved through the barrage, he summoned beams of blinding light from his palms and eyes, scorching the stone walls and forcing Gilgamesh to stagger backward.
The Uruk king snarled, fury burning in his eyes, but Sargon pressed on, relentless.
Their clash reached a fever pitch as Sargon, his golden armor gleaming in the dim light, called upon his full power. With a roar that shook the very foundations of the palace, he shot a brilliant beam of light from his eyes, straight into Gilgamesh's chest. The blast sent the Uruk king reeling, his massive form slamming into the far wall, cracking the stone upon impact.
Breathing heavily, Gilgamesh staggered to his feet, but the damage was done. Blood trickled down his face, and his eyes, once full of defiance, now flickered with the first hints of fear. Sargon advanced, his every step filled with purpose. With one final burst of speed, he leaped into the air, his hands glowing with the radiant energy of the sun itself.
With a swift, blinding slash of light, Sargon's strike severed Gilgamesh's head clean from his shoulders.
The Uruk king's towering body crumbled to the ground, and the palace fell silent. Sargon, victorious and unbowed, stood over the fallen giant, breathing heavily as the weight of the battle lifted from his shoulders.
Moments later, Sargon emerged from the ruins of the palace, carrying Gilgamesh's severed head with both arms.
The Akkadian soldiers, who had been locked in their own struggle outside, fell silent at the sight. The mighty Gilgamesh feared and revered across Arctyra, had fallen.
Sargon raised the head high, his voice booming over the battlefield.
"The king of Uruk is no more! Akkadia reigns supreme!"
A roar erupted from the Akkadian army, their morale renewed by the sight of their king's triumph. The city of Uruk had fallen, its ruler defeated, and the legend of King Sargon would be etched into history forever.