Chapter 27 - Paulus

As the attack advanced, the entire village sank into utter terror. Panic and chaos enveloped the villagers, who ran aimlessly, desperately trying to escape the death that stalked them from all directions. The screams of men, women, and children were silenced one by one, as no mercy was found among the invaders.

The mission had always been clear: leave no one alive. And so it was. The assault lasted only a few minutes, but for the villagers trapped in that nightmare, every second stretched into an eternity of horror. The assailants cruelly amused themselves, toying with the lives of the defenseless, though their twisted entertainment never reached the climax some might have desired. All they were left with was fleeting satisfaction.

As the final screams faded into the somber silence of the night, the men relaxed their stances. Their gazes met, each one reflecting a mixture of unease and calm, as though the slaughter had released a latent tension within them.

Gathered in the middle of a blood-soaked field, their serenity after the massacre was chilling.

A few minutes earlier, the main group had moved silently. They had found Paulus. He was cornered in a modest house, neither too large nor too small. The weathered wood of its structure told the story of the years it had endured.

There they were, six men, including the leader who had guided them to this remote corner of the world. Their cold eyes were fixed on the entrance of the house, where Paulus, exhausted and drenched in sweat, faced them with a mix of defiance and desperation. His thoughts revolved solely around protecting those taking refuge behind those walls. He knew that if he failed to stop these men, the fate of everyone inside would be sealed.

Inside the house, several women, trembling and terrified, tried to fortify the door with whatever they could find. They moved furniture and secured the few locks they had. Every sound from outside heightened their fear. Their breaths were short and hushed, their hearts pounding as they heard the steps and murmurs of the men waiting outside. They knew their only hope lay in Paulus, who, though exhausted, stood guard, determined not to let the invaders through.

"Paulus, son of Danix, of the Firebrand family, sword warriors," said the man in the red hood, his voice firm and devoid of emotion. "We offer you a dignified death, one your kin would accept with honor. You will die by the sword, as befits a man of your lineage."

The rest of the men surrounded Paulus, forming a tight circle that left no room for escape. Their swords gleamed under the dim light.

"Bastards! Who bought you? Who sent you? Tell me!" Paulus shouted, his voice breaking with fury. Yet his question was met with silence. They knew there was no need to answer; their mission required no explanation, only blood.

Realizing he would receive no response, Paulus understood the fight had begun. His muscles tensed, and with a swift movement, he lunged toward the man in the red hood, dragging his sword in a low arc. At the last moment, he swung the blade upward with all his strength, aiming for a lethal strike.

But his attack had been anticipated. The man in the red hood observed his movement with calculated precision. With an agile twist, he dodged the blow before the sword could reach its target.

When Paulus's sword struck the ground, the blade left a deep gash in the dirt. The men surrounding their leader wasted no time and began to move with precision. Tinix, his gaze fixed on Paulus's neck, lunged like a predator closing in. Sensing the danger, Paulus released his sword and, with a quick spin, delivered a powerful kick to Tinix's chest, sending him flying several feet back.

The advantage was short-lived. Behind Tinix appeared Enix, his spear aimed with deadly accuracy at Paulus's eye. The warrior knew he had few defensive options in this position. Just as Enix's spear was about to strike, his foot landed on a small loose rock. The uneven ground betrayed him; his ankle twisted, causing him to lose balance at the critical moment.

Enix staggered as he tried to recover. When he looked up again, he found Paulus standing directly in front of him, sword aimed squarely at his neck. The group leader, noticing the imminent danger, attempted to intercept the strike, but Paulus's speed caught him off guard.

Paul, John, and Brink, who had been watching Tinix's recovery, turned their attention to the scene. Paulus's transition from a defensive position to a lethal one happened in the blink of an eye. The warrior was now moments away from executing one of their own.

"FLASH!" The sharp sound of steel slicing through flesh and bone echoed. The blow was so fast and precise that in a single second, Enix's head rolled across the ground, stopping near Tinix. Instead of fear, Tinix's eyes burned with indescribable rage.

The leader, standing behind Paulus, delivered a swift kick, attempting to halt the decapitation. Though the impact was effective, it did nothing to prevent Enix's fate. Paulus fell backward onto the ground.

A few feet away, Paul rushed forward, dagger in hand, ready to deliver multiple strikes to the now vulnerable Paulus. However, before Paul could close the distance, Brink shoved him aside with force. The reason became immediately clear. Paulus, still on the ground, had positioned his sword in a defensive posture, pointing the blade behind him. If anyone attempted a careless attack from behind, Paulus only needed to push the weapon to impale his assailant.

The plan failed. Paul received only a minor cut, not enough to cause significant harm, but it was clear how close he had come to sharing Enix's fate.

John, who had been observing everything closely, stepped forward, raising his axe with precision. With a firm motion, he hurled the weapon in a straight line. The axe flew past Paul, Brink, and the leader, heading directly for its target—Paulus, still lying on the ground.

The strike was precise and deadly. The axe buried itself in Paulus's back, piercing his white shirt. Blood slowly spread across the fabric. Despite the evident pain, Paulus, with remarkable determination, began to rise.

Tinix, now on his feet and recovered, watched in shock. Such a blow would have immobilized anyone else, but this was not the case. Paulus used his sword as support, forcing himself to stand once more. Every movement seemed to be a statement of defiance against his enemies.

As Paulus finally stood, the leader moved swiftly behind him. Without hesitation, he plunged his dagger repeatedly into Paulus's back. Despite the barrage of strikes, Paulus's gaze never wavered from Tinix. His eyes held a mix of defiance and resolve until his eyelids closed forever.

Paulus's body collapsed to the ground, joining the others who already lay lifeless. The leader stepped back, observing the scene with cold satisfaction. Only five men remained standing. The battle was over, and their mission was complete.

Without a word, the group turned their attention to the house. It was time to finish the final task—break down the door and kill everyone inside.