The Atmosphere was tense and bright, they were out in the open, standing upon the desolate desert of hung skeletons and corpses. The place was reeked with misery, tension and the sound of hearts pounding as if it would burst out from their chests.
"Come on now! Get your heads here! Stand here in rows of 10. Combat ritualists, stay in the front line, while the remining of you get behind! Make sure you are dressed in the appropriate uniform, recited your truths, prayed, and armed yourself with the teachings our dear Apostle has given to you!" The commander declared, forming a salute.
He was dressed in a black robe with a golden cross dangling freely around his neck.
His voice travelled across the battlefield, reaching thousands of ritualists in red and white.
Although their faces expressions were of seriousness and readiness for war, inside, they were frightened, scared, tense and very afraid.
They were prepared, in a matter of time all of this emotions will die within a couple of hours, then, everyone would be quiet, silent…dead.
The ritualists began to move in an awkward manner, stepping into positions as instructed. The sound of bare feet striking the ground filled the air with harmony-like noise.
The combat ritualists carried their black spears and their amour; the rest of the ritualists carried their ritualistic scripture.
After a few minutes, every ritualist had aligned themselves to where they were supposed to be, and the harmony-like noise ceased abruptly.
Then the commander stepped back, letting El and Ciel address the ritualists.
During the twenty-eight days, Ciel was able to claim his position as the mysterious one in the Black Castle, though, he did it secretly, making sure the White Castle and the Grey Castle did not know.
He had made Elias and other ritualists announce the death of the past mysterious, but saying the mysterious one has passed the crown to The Man.
Everything was coming to pass.
Today's occasion marked a dawn of doom. Yet for Ciel, his heart was beating wildly, excitedly, tremendously.
Draped in a black, star-strewn robe that flowed to the ground like a fragment of the night sky torn loose, a golden cross rested against his chest, gleaming faintly beneath the shifting folds of fabric. His hair was the colour of the void, dark and depthless, framing a face both distant and unreadable. His eyes, a cold, piercing blue, carried the stillness of winter snow and the quiet expanse of the astral sea, calm yet immeasurable.
Ciel stepped forward and addressed the crowd.
"Today marks the day of victory. Twenty-eight days passed like the dawn of the moon, equal in glory to the illusionary sun!" He spoke; his voice thundered like the roar of the heavens.
"Twenty-eight days has come to an end. We will slaughter, kill, carnage, massacre! We will win this war! The Gods are on our side! The Apostle is on our side."
As he spoke, the ritualists began to roar in unison. Their shouts were loud as the heavens themselves, deep as a vast sea, filled with the motivation of a lifetime.
The man raised his hand.
Their roaring ceased.
El stepped forward I calm glory. As usual, he was dressed in a white robe, red scarf, and a golden cross.
"Congratulations ritualists of the black castle. Let us go forth and match to the White Castle-"
Far away, the sound of seven trumpets was blasted fully, carrying an agonising yet cleansing sound.
Everyone turned their heads to see what was going on.
In the desolate desert was an army marching loudly with swords and white, smoke releasing, books, drenched in fog. They held their weapons in their hands as they marched, shouting and chanting loudly, as if wanting the heavens to draw their ears closer.
They were dressed in white robes that flowed to the ground, the hem brushing against the sand beneath them. Little veins of gold adorned the robe while an insignia was engraved at the back of it.
On their necks was a chained, white cross dangling softly against the humming wind. Thunder rolled in the clouds, a lightning struck the ground,
Declaring the war.
The man startled back, the calm expression on his face, changed into one of shock and confusion.
A quick frown formed on his face. In a trembling voice he said:
"Why are they here?"
His volume increased.
"This was supposed to be an ambush, they would not have known we were coming! Why?"
The volume of his voice decreased, his face went pale, his eyes became darker, his voice trembled less and became the one of realisation, multiple emotions crossed his face.
"Do we have a spy?" He asked, turning to the commander, then back at the thousands of ritualists that stood before him. His eyes did not dart towards El, not even for a second. The amount of Trust he had for El was almost infinite. The faith and loyalty he to him was also infinite.
El remained his calm composure, his expression was of cold indifference as he looked at the army that was marching towards them.
The ritualists just went silent, then roared:
"No, we will never betray the Black Castle! Our lives are for the castle, we live in it, so we die in it. We live for it, so we die for it!"
"We are loyal servants of the Gods! No one, comes to take away our faith!"
Once one entered the Black castle and had their first meal, a poison or Gu was hidden in it. It was so tiny so even if one could manipulate energy, they would not be able to see it, after al it was dead. It would become a living thing when it is swallowed. It would drink the blood of the host, eat the food and absorb the spiritual energy of the host, feeding on the soul. Once the process is done and the Gu is in its adult form, it stays there and become part of the host, circling near the heart of the host. It is mostly used for powerful people with unlimited potential; in order to avoid betrayal, most cults, sects and ritualistic organisations would always use them on their followers.
So even if there was a spy, if they were found out, with a flick of the Man's hand, their hearts would burst from their chests and they would die.
The Man sighed and turned his head to El.
"Great one, what do we do now? Shall we just fight them?"
El turned his face towards the man and the ritualists and replied with an obvious look:
"Yes."
"Why wouldn't we? If there is a variable, shouldn't we get rid of it? If there is an army shouldn't we massacre it? It doesn't matter if they know anything about us or have a spy right in our midst. We will kill them all. We will Paint this desolate desert with their blood and hang their heads on the thorns of fate!"
The man looked at him with solemn expression and turned his full body to the army marching towards them, declaring with all his strength:
"Chaarrrgge!"