Samura burst from the palace, a whirlwind of purpose, and vaulted onto his horse. He spurred the beast, and it galloped away at a furious pace. Though it was still morning, the looming shadow of the palace made it feel like dusk. He had a long journey ahead and a critical mission. There was no time to dwell on the lack of a concrete plan for infiltrating the Demon Army's camp; time was a relentless enemy.
He rode across the kingdom, pausing only briefly at the central park for his horse to drink from the fountain. Along the way, he witnessed the initial stages of evacuation: news had spread, and the populace was given a single day to prepare before moving south, through the gate, into the vast expanse separating the kingdoms.
After a mere five-minute respite, he was back on his horse, riding hard. By the time he reached the northern gate, the afternoon sun was already dipping. A rough plan had begun to form in his mind, and now it was time to execute it. He continued past the kingdom's boundary, heading for the military camp three kilometers beyond. Upon arrival, he dismounted before his horse had even fully stopped, rushing into the commander's tent at the heart of the encampment.
The King's twelve-hour deadline loomed, and Samura couldn't afford to waste another precious second. The commander saluted, but Samura waved it off impatiently.
"What is the scope of their forces?" he demanded. The commander, a grizzled veteran, snatched a map from the cluttered table and presented it. "We estimate a total of thirty thousand soldiers, sir. Our scout in Amaz reports more forces heading to other kingdoms. This could be a simultaneous invasion, starting here."
"He's trying to fight the world at once? On his own?!" Samura exclaimed, disbelief lacing his tone. "Even Hadashi isn't that foolish. So that's why our messages went unanswered. The other kingdoms are already embroiled. Commander!"
"Yes, sir!" The commander snapped to attention. Samura's eyes, sharp and intense, met his. "Prepare for battle. This war is about to ignite. You will be our first line of offense." The commander saluted, a grim determination settling on his face. "Yes, sir."
Samura stepped out, surveying the Demon camp from a distance. On his side, human soldiers were entrenched, hidden. The demons, however, displayed an unnerving arrogance. No spiked fences, no trenches, no traps. Only foot soldiers stood watch, as if inviting an attack. Samura knew better; such an invitation was a death trap. But he had a mission, and failure was not an option. He instructed the commander to hold fast, then moved to a secluded spot, hidden from the demon sentries. There, he whispered, "Windstate: Split."
He felt his body dissolve, breaking into countless air particles, finer than sand. He flowed across the camp like dust, an invisible current drifting towards the Demon encampment. He dared not ascend too high, lest someone notice an unnatural disturbance in the air. Controlling his dispersed form was a delicate dance, each particle a struggle against the wind's whims. He moved slowly, meticulously, avoiding detection.
He drifted through the legs of unsuspecting guards, slipping into the Demon Army's camp. Soldiers sharpened their weapons, checked their armor—a clear sign they had no intention of a peaceful departure. Though indistinguishable from ordinary dust, Samura remained hyper-vigilant, wary of the demons' unknown abilities. A telepath might sense his thoughts, or a mage detect the energy of his transformation.
Carefully, he swept across the ground, searching for a tent that stood apart. He found it: an opulent tent at the rear of the campsite. He almost drifted inside before spotting two hulking guardian dogs at the entrance. These creatures, a special breed, could differentiate energy signatures. Any closer, and he would be detected. The tent was roped off, isolated from the rest of the camp, ensuring no soldiers were nearby. He gathered his particles, coalescing back into his solid form, gasping as he savored the feeling of being whole again. He despised using Split; it always left him lightheaded.
Feeling his strength return, he peeked around the corner at the dogs—two monstrous black beasts with spikes bristling on their backs. Their faces were so menacing that Samura almost retreated. But then, a young demon casually walked past them and into the tent. Samura activated Carrier Wind, a technique that drew sound waves to him. He meticulously skirted his energy around the dogs, ensuring they remained oblivious. Through the wind, he heard two voices, garbled at first, but he refined the transfer until they became audible.
It was a status report. From the conversation, he recognized the voice of the new Demon King, Hadashi. After the other demon left, Samura waited, hiding in a barrel, then rolling it silently to the tent. Peering through a side window, he saw a muscular, grey-skinned demon hunched over a map of the Human Kingdom. Later that night, another demon, also grey-skinned and muscular but shorter, entered. This was Hadashi's brother, Hidora, as Samura deduced from their exchange.
"How is it going?" Hadashi asked, his eyes still fixed on the map.
"It's going smoothly," Hidora responded. "The Humans have already begun evacuating. The Hell's Seeds are still being put in place, but they should be done in an hour."
"Hm," Hadashi remarked, a cruel smile playing on his lips. "The entire southern side?"
"Yes, brother."
"Good. The King will lead his people out, believing he's saved them. Unfortunately for him, we never intended on leaving anyone alive. What a magnificent sight it will be. Blood, guts, fire, and sand, all mixed up in one huge, ground-shaking explosion when the Hell's Seeds sprout."
Samura was aghast. He knew the demons intended to fight, but he had believed they would spare the civilians. His momentary shock caused his magic to flicker, drawing the attention of the two guardian dogs. Their spikes glowed, and they howled into the night sky. Samura, his cover blown but his mission accomplished, didn't bother with particles. He launched himself from the camp on a cushion of air, soaring past the human lines and towards the kingdom.
But his escape was cut short. Something slammed into him mid-air, sending him plummeting to the ground. He was still a long, dangerous distance from the kingdom, and he knew, with a sinking dread, that he wouldn't escape without a fight. Hidora, the Demon King's brother, stood over him, sword drawn, a predatory glint in his eyes. He had thrown his blade to knock Samura down, and now he stood, a formidable barrier. They were isolated, far from both armies, far from any hope of immediate aid. Neither could escape without first incapacitating the other.
Hidora's blade glinted in the moonlight, a chilling promise of the battle to come. Samura, disarmed and vulnerable, knew this was no mere skirmish. This was a fight for his life, for the fate of the Human Kingdom, and for the secrets he now carried. The air crackled with anticipation, two warriors poised on the brink of a deadly dance, with only one destined to walk away.