In the central part of this zone, exist a beautiful landscape filled with saintly air and of bloodlust without conflicting one another. At the very depth of this land, a towering dark structure higher than its surrounding clouds revealed itself. It seemed to be obscured by its surrounding atmosphere from the outside.
The day appeared just like other days prior. The morning light revealed its might on the Zaria zone. The usually beautiful smile and morning laughter was nowhere to be found on any place in this territory. However, no sign of anxiety could be seen on their faces as well but pure determination for the purpose which awaits them.
The Zaria zone was a place where individuals were reined for battle. No morning goes without the thought of battling. In addition, for what was to come they could only wait since they had no means to increasing the zone's time flow. If there was, they'd probably be the first to take it.
The air seemed to lash and swizzle in the clouds. Terrifying air current gush down the structure hitting the ground heavily—creating a large dirt of dust in the surroundings.
At the depth of this magnificent structure was settled a large magnanimous throne with different flickers of light emanating from it. An aura of saintly air filled the almost empty room—declaring its holy light and ambience. On it was seated a world-endingly figure in full black robes which seem to turn even darker and menacing the more one looked at it, with their eyes tightly shut.
The figure was holding a large hand fan in their hand and with every swing, a large gush of wind filled the space which seem to incapacitate the silhouettes standing straight in the throne room.
They formed a line of two rows facing the throne in obedience with five figures in each row.
"Leader, you called." said an elegant middle-aged man with a hidden smirk, his head was slightly bent. His voice was very subtle so as not to disturb the sleeping waters. He was standing by the right of the throne being the first in the row.
"Yaga, you came!" the figure who was called 'leader' muttered. Their tireless eyes instantly sprung open. They were obviously surprised and clueless by the man's appearance, before they shot their eyes directly to the figure at the far back of the row. Even if the voice was low-pitched they all heard it soundly.
The figure shuddered slightly and quickly bow whilst he said in a bellowing voice, "Leader, we were also unaware that he would come after being in there for so long," seeing the leader not convinced he quickly added,
"And he was the last to come among us all. Leader was 'asleep' so I didn't dare to disturb your 'sleep'." said the figure, Jones, his voice extremely earnest while he swept his eyes on the figures at the adjacent.
The figures, 'we wouldn't help you'
Jones, "_ _"
"Humph, you really cared." the leader nodded, their tone evidently calmer.
"Yes." Jones replied, while he thought secretly in relieve, 'it seems the leader is still soft while at peace'.
"Only five days is remaining before the closure. Make sure you get the soldiers ready and equipped. No mishaps is allowed." the leader's voice suddenly darkened, with no life as if a new table has been set.
"Yes." they all answered, their voices equally solemn. They all knew this battle might actually be their last.
There is no escaping it.
This world or more appropriately, realm has no name, but the natives called it the battlefield. It has been around for a long time, so long that their actual age is unknown.
The natives have an edict enacted, which has been passed down since generations: that every ten thousand years, the inhabitants of the realm would have to converge in a fixed location which itself was called the battlefield in the battlefield realm.
The only purpose there was to fight. And this word and procedure have being ingrained in the hearts of the natives that they have no choice but to incline. Therefore, it has been passed down from generations to generation without stop and no means or thought of deflecting.
It has been etched in their hearts that they simply can't go against it. Until the interference of the outlanders who came to their realm for plundering.
The battlefield is linked to different world and realm, which would naturally open by itself. Opening portals from the battlefield to outside dimensions is really difficult.
The outlanders would then enter the battlefield through the link with their world, though the natives of the battlefield were strictly against. But they have no way of apprehending them all. And moreover, some more talented ones went on and built regions and domains able to rival theirs.
Any zone, sect or clans, tribes and factions who refuses to fight when the great closure comes would be ganged up on by the remnants of the battle which is by no means a huge headache and catastrophe for any group targeted, since such a group would be completely obliterated.
The battlefield scenes might have stopped but at last, with every difficulty there is relieve.
What's the relieve of these natives and aborigine--treasures and boundless opportunities.
When the battle reaches its climax, treasures were born in the realm—very strong treasures at that. They then have to fight for who would take ownership of such treasure which would eventually result in another battle ensuing on that region, without even knowing the treasure's uses.
The others would be attracted to that same field which spell more bloody mist. The more blood that was spilled, the more the earth absorb. The healthier the energy it obtained the more exquisite treasures it revealed.
This is the trilling aspect of this fight and the reason why they continue to fight. They just have to fight and kill to make their families and clans or any other group they belonged safe and more powerful.
"How are our spies doing in the Black Pool's sect?" the leader questioned, with their eyes sparkling with hope.
"We have not established contact with them since the last three months." the second figure by the left answered with constricted pupils.
This is very bad. Nevertheless, they have no choice but to stay low. The Blood Pool sect is one of the Prime sects in the realm—at the mid, they couldn't act carelessly in their territory.
It's already benevolent enough that they allowed their disciples walked around in their cities. If they were to find some spies even a single threat related to them would spell big for their entire zone.
The Blood Pool sect couldn't intimidate them freely as they wish but even a hint of suspicion isn't good right now especially when the battlefield war was closing in. They would need all help they could get.
"Sighs," the leader sighed in bitterness at this point. This is clearly out of their hands.
"Try harder to get in touch with them using some favors and the rest. We can't be left behind by the others." continued, the leader before she immediately vanished with a bust from her position leaving these words behind, "There is not much time left."
"First grand elder." the figure standing third place from Yaga called immediately the leader was gone while he waited patiently.
"Hmm, don't worry." Yaga responded while his eyes narrowed slightly, 'coming out from the tower doesn't sound so good after all' he thought with his eyes fixated on the woman opposite him, 'women shouldn't be trusted'.
If not that he couldn't do much right now he surely would've at least smacked the head of that venomous woman opposite him.
She tricked him.
Anna giggled slightly felling very pleased with the expression on Yaga's face, 'you think you could cultivate forever while I do all the work myself' she scornfully thought with an obvious smirk on her rosy lips.
"Laza, get the Zero Bridging team ready." her expression instantly changed with a cold one replacing it, "We are leaving." she commanded, while the others left as quickly as they came.
The great closure was only five days away. They have to be fully ready.