The Fall of Everything [Rewrite]

When Corvus arrived at the camp, the medics wasted no time. They immediately placed him in the best equipped tent. Every corner of the tent was prepared for treatment and equipped with all the supplies the medics would need. But Corvus' condition was more than an ordinary injury. The seriousness on the medics' faces as they cleaned Corvus' wounds said it all. Each of them knew how important it was to save their leader's life.

Medicines and antidotes made using lightstone were central to the treatment process. Lightstones were unique in reducing the effects of both physical wounds and poisoning. Medics carefully ground the stones and mixed their essence into medicines. One by one, the paste applied to the wounds began to take effect. Corvus' body showed a strong predisposition to these substances; it was as if the Lightstone was recognized and embraced by his body. This predisposition was like a miracle that accelerated the healing process. But there was a major obstacle in this process: Corvus was unconscious.

Had Corvus' consciousness been open, he would have been able to channel the energy of the Lightstones at will and accelerate the healing process in an incredible way. This ability of his was unique even among all the 'blessed ones '. But at the moment, Corvus' body was content with passively absorbing this power. Therefore, for the medics, time had become an enemy. It was impossible to say for sure when Corvus would wake up. Maybe in a few hours he would open his eyes and be back on the battlefield, maybe he would remain in this unconscious state for days, even weeks.

In the meantime, all the Lightstones from Corvus' camp were gathered in a tent. Even the stones that had been given to Belisarius were taken back to help the process. The medics who dressed Corvus' wounds hoped that the presence of these stones together would increase the spread of energy. The air inside the tent was filled with an intense energy; the radiating glow of the stones turned it into a garden of stars. The medics had carefully placed each stone, creating a healing field around Corvus.

At the edge of Corvus' bed, the quiet but frantic work of those who were trying to heal him continued. Everyone was waiting for their leader to wake up soon, praying with devotion and gratitude. Outside the tent, the soldiers waited in silence for the outcome of this healing process. Each of them knew that the moment Corvus opened his eyes would be a new hope in the war.

While the camp was quiet with the warriors who had stayed behind to protect Corvus, another struggle was going on in the narrow streets of the city. The city was still in the grip of chaos and war. Some of the warriors who had mobilized on Corvus' earlier orders were once again holding strategic points to prevent the enemy from fleeing the city. But the most dangerous task had fallen to Kragan and the fifty elite fighters he had taken with him. The enemy was waging guerrilla warfare in the city, using narrow alleys and secret passages to hold out. Kragan had to end this war.

Rasur had to stand by Kragan's side. Not only was he the one who could provide information about the enemy forces in the city, he was also the leader of the soldiers in the city in his father's absence. Kragan learned everything from Rasur and his surviving men, but he could not shake the suspicion that he was an untrustworthy figure. Rasur's father was a traitor, and this betrayal had nearly cost Corvus his life. Worse, Rasur knew of his father's plans but did nothing - or, as he put it, could do nothing - to prevent them. For Kragan, this was an unforgivable weakness.

Misunderstandings and the chaos of war had wiped out most of Rasur's men. Kragan and his warriors had killed more than half of Rasur's best men. In Rasur's eyes, this was both a loss and a shame. Kragan did not seem to mind his plight; in his mind Rasur was still a man living in his father's shadow.

As they walked through the city streets, Kragan kept glancing at Rasur. The young man was silent, his face showed no emotion, no determination. He obediently followed Kragan's orders, but there was no commitment or spirit behind this obedience. Whatever Kragan asked, Rasur answered in short, dry words. "They can pass through here," or "We can look that way." His words lacked the will of a leader or a warrior. Rasur's mood deepened the suspicion in Kragan.

As the city of Bahoz struggled to completely destroy the enemy forces, the narrow streets and complexity of the city worked in the enemy's favor. The enemy forces were a small force compared to Bahoz's local army, but dangerous and insidious nonetheless. Spurred on by Corvus' call to arm the population, local forces were searching for the enemy in every corner of the city. But the enemies carefully avoided major confrontations, forcing the defenses with hit-and-run tactics at every opportunity. The rapid arming of the population as part of the city's contingency plans was a great strength, but it also led to a lack of organization and casualties.

The strategy of the enemy forces was clear: create chaos inside the city and buy time. This chaos could create an opportunity for reinforcements to arrive. Bahoz's defense units were therefore in a race against time. They had to take complete control of the city before the enemies could receive any outside help. Every minute was critical and could determine the outcome of the battle.

As fighting raged in the streets of the city, Kragan turned his attention to a more strategic objective. The city had turned into a logistics depot for the enemy. Inns, warehouses and stores were filled with military supplies, the result of months of preparation by the enemy. Kragan was determined to eliminate the risk of these supplies falling into enemy hands. He wanted to make sure that even if the city fell, the enemy would not be able to take advantage of this logistical support.

He gave a strict order to the warriors with him: All inns, warehouses belonging to foreign merchants and the back rooms of shops were to be evacuated and their supplies gathered in one place. "In the worst case scenario," Kragan said, his voice resolute and cold, "All logistics will be completely destroyed. Not even a single drop will be left for the enemy."

The warriors quickly mobilized. All logistics points in the city were systematically evacuated, and every place was carefully searched. Weapons, food and other military supplies were moved from inside inns and warehouses, all the while keeping alert in case the enemy attacked again. Although merchants who had nothing to do with the enemy objected for fear of losing their goods, Kragan's orders were unquestionable. His sharp gaze silenced any resistance before it even began.

While the local forces moved the logistics to safety, Kragan moved on to his next target. His next target was the 'Black Masks'. Rasur did not know who they were. All he knew was that it was these men who had offered to betray his father. He had only seen them once. He said that his father sometimes went alone to the streets south of the city and presumably met these 'Black Masks'.

Although there was no detailed information, it was enough to spur Kragan into action. They formed a small team and dived into the narrow streets north of the city. The warriors with Kragan were a group of men distinguished by their experience and skill. Each of them was older than Kragan and had spent years on the battlefield. These warriors had been carefully trained by the Tiamat Family and then fought countless battles under the command of Valerius, Corvus' uncle. While they were not the best warriors of the Rhazgords, there were few in the country who could rival them. Each of them had mastered the arts of war, were disciplined, able to move swiftly through narrow streets, and were empowered with the Lightstone.

Kragan took only 12 warriors with him on this mission. He knew that his enemies resorted to hit-and-run tactics and anticipated the disadvantages of moving with a large group through narrow streets. A large unit would be less mobile and an easy target for the enemy. But the 12 men Kragan had chosen, with their speed and lethal skills, were ready to be the enemy's nightmare in the narrow streets.

Rasur stayed behind in this operation, taking on the task of leading the city's general troops. After all, he was the son of the city's former leader and the leader of the local army. Of course, his every move was watched by Corvus' loyal soldiers. But no matter what, someone had to be in charge of the local forces to control the chaos in the city and block the enemy's escape routes.

Kragan and his warriors moved carefully through the dark streets of the city. They opened the doors of every suspicious house and store, and searched them thoroughly. But no matter how hard they tried, they could not find even the slightest trace of their enemies. Their targets, the Black Masks, moved like shadows, invisible, but making their presence felt at every moment. Kragan was getting more and more nervous by the minute, his patience was wearing thin. The sounds of fighting in the vicinity reminded him of the battle raging in other corners of the city, but even these sounds did not give away the location of the enemies they were pursuing.

Kragan stopped and listened to his surroundings. The air was heavy and silent, only distant screams and the clash of swords could be heard. "It is as if they are running away from us" he muttered. He knew that the enemy had realized their strength and was avoiding a direct confrontation. But this thought also gave him a kind of advantage. The fact that the enemy had to hide revealed their fear.

Just when all hope seemed to be lost, a sound broke the silence: the whizz of an arrow. Kragan saw the warrior next to him stagger with a sudden groan. An arrow had lodged in the warrior's arm and fresh blood was seeping through his armor. Kragan's eyes immediately moved, but before he realized what had happened, several more arrows rained down on them. He and the group quickly took cover in the surrounding alleys and corners of houses. Even with cover, most of them were wounded. Everyone was on alert, eyes focused intently in the direction from which the arrows were coming.

Finally, the expected enemy appeared. Five black masked men jumped down from the darkness of the rooftops like silent shadows. It was not clear who they were behind their masks, but the agility and determination of their movements made it clear that they were no ordinary soldiers. Each of them stood confident and deadly.

As soon as Kragan drew his axe and assumed a fighting stance, the Black Masks moved in. The five enemies attacked in silent but deadly coordination. The first move was so swift that one of Kragan's warriors fell to the ground with a sword thrust before he realized what had happened. The masked men took advantage of the narrow streets and the surrounding shadows to pick off targets one by one.

The warriors on Kragan's side struggled against the enemy's superior mobility. One warrior, just as he raised his shield to counterattack, was struck in the back by an arrow fired from the roof by a second Black Mask. The man staggered for a moment, then collapsed to his knees.

Kragan, roaring with rage, took aim at this enemy. "Die!" he shouted, swinging his axe and severing the enemy's arm. The Black Mask was forced to retreat with a groan, but it cost him dearly; another warrior took the opportunity Kragan had created to strike the enemy down with a single blow. The first Black Mask was dead.

But the enemy still had the advantage of position. One of the masked men plunged a deadly knife into the stomach of another warrior. The wounded man, in a last ditch effort, aimed for his enemy's abdomen and managed to thrust his sword through. Both men collapsed in a pool of blood. The battle was becoming increasingly bloody and chaotic.

Kragan heard the scream of another warrior right next to him. He turned to see a Black Mask piercing his man through the chest with his sword. Furious, he lunged forward and charged at the enemy. His axe sliced through the mask and face of the masked man in a single blow, knocking the enemy to the ground. Kragan's actions emboldened the other warriors on the battlefield, but even this was not enough to slow the pace of casualties.

The two remaining Black Masks continued to surround the group with quick and agile movements. The difficulty of fighting in the narrow streets slowed the reaction of Kragan's men. One Black Mask lunged at Kragan to distract him, but Kragan realized it was a trap and strengthened his defenses. A warrior at his side took advantage of the enemy's move to strike with his sword and decapitate him. This was the third casualty of the enemy force.

But this victory did not last long. The last two remaining enemies knocked out two more warriors each. By the end of the battle, Kragan had only seven men left with him, feeling the weight of losing five. Kragan looked down at the motionless body of the last enemy, the one he had dealt the final blow to. His eyes fixed on the dead body, still hiding the face behind the mask. "May the gods accept you..." he murmured. He could do nothing but pray for the dead.

The two remaining Black Masks realized that they had suffered far more casualties in the battle than they had expected. They glanced at each other briefly, then, at a signal, began to retreat. Moving quickly and silently, they disappeared into the narrow streets, as if they were part of the shadows. Kragan gritted his teeth as he watched the enemy's sudden retreat. The bodies of his comrades were left behind; it was like a weight around his neck. But the anger and sense of responsibility inside him reminded him that he had no choice. He had to follow the enemy.

"You know I will not leave the bodies of our comrades here," he said to his remaining fighters, his eyes shifting briefly to the bodies of his dead friends. "But now we have to stop the enemy. If we don't pursue them now, everything will be in vain."

His four remaining warriors nodded silently. They were all shaken by the loss of their friends. They immediately set off in pursuit of the enemy. The streets were like a labyrinth, the Black Masks using the city's complex structure as a weapon. But Kragan's eyes were sharp and alert. He was able to pick up the enemy's tracks from the small clues they left in their haste. A drop of blood in one place, a footprint hastily buried in the mud in another, pointed them in the right direction.

They followed the tracks for what seemed like hours. The streets grew darker and darker, the sounds of the surrounding fighting faded. They were now sure they had entered a more secluded and hidden part of the city. Finally, a dark opening appeared before them. The alley opened into a large courtyard, and directly in front of them stood more than twenty men in Black Masks. Kragan and his warriors took cover at the entrance to the courtyard and began to observe this dangerous group.

Half of the men had bags on their backs, as if they were carrying a heavy load. The rest were carefully watching the perimeter, protecting the others. The group gathered around a heavy iron gate. Those with bags took turns going out, hurrying as if they were trying to smuggle something valuable inside. It was dark behind the door, but Kragan was sure that this was the main headquarters of the Black Masks.

After seeing the enemy headquarters, Kragan made a quick decision. Turning to the warriors with him, he spoke in a low but clear voice: "We must report the location of the enemy headquarters." He turned his eyes to one of the fastest and toughest looking fighters in the squad. "You will go back. Leave immediately and report the location of the headquarters to Rasur."

The warrior did not hesitate, but the determination on his face was clearly accompanied by fear. "Yes, sir." he said, and quickly made his way back. Just then, however, one of the Black Masks noticed movement within the group. A loud whistling sound cut through the air; like an alarm, it galvanized the other Black Masks into action.

"Enemy!" one of the Black Masks shouted in Adler, and immediately launched his arrow, aiming for the warrior Kragan had sent. The arrow struck the target quickly, but Kragan moved like lightning, raising his shield to deflect the arrow. "Protect him!" he shouted, and together with the warriors beside him, they took cover against the hail of arrows and threw themselves forward to secure the escape route for their friends.

Kragan kept his eyes on the Black Masks fleeing from the headquarters. Carrying packs on their backs, the enemies and their leader gave a few orders and quickly fled. But the 15 Black Masks who remained behind had moved to secure the escape. Kragan studied his warriors for a moment. There was determination in the eyes of his seven comrades, but the numbers and agility of the enemy were too great to ignore. Clutching the shield in his left hand, he raised the giant axe in his right. "Not a step back from this spot until we are dead!" he roared.

The Black Masks attacked with silent but deadly agility. The first move was aimed at the warrior just to Kragan's left. But Kragan swiftly swung his axe and parried an attacker's sword, then with one powerful thrust, slashed a deep gash across the enemy's chest. The Black Mask fell to the ground bleeding, while the others continued the attack.

Kragan targeted every enemy in his path with his heavy axe. With each blow, his axe made an echoing sound of bones crunching and enemy armor shattering. "That's it?" he shouted, twirling his axe in the air with one hand and aiming it at another Black Mask. But the enemies were not only strong, they were cunning. While one pretended to be distracted, the other three tried to sneak up behind Kragan.

With a swift turn, Kragan recognized the movement of the attackers behind him. He quickly raised his shield to block the first attack, then swung his axe in a wide arc. The blow struck two Black Masks at once, one of whom fell to the ground with a fatal wound to the neck, the other with a cut to the abdomen before he could escape. But this victory came at a heavy price for Kragan. Two of his comrades who had fought beside him had collapsed after being attacked by other enemies.

Despite these losses, Kragan remained standing. His breathing was getting heavier, he was beginning to feel his wounds and fatigue, but that was no reason to stop him. "Fucking bastards!" he shouted, gripping his axe with both hands and charging forward. He landed a single powerful blow towards the group of enemies in front of him. His axe sliced the Black Mask in half from the head down, unable to dodge. But in the meantime, another enemy took advantage of Kragan's attention and plunged his dagger into Kragan's stomach.

Kragan fell to his knees with a groan, but did not fall to the ground. His eyes were locked on his enemies. He raised his axe once more and struck down another enemy in front of him. But these were the last moments of his strength. The blood flowing from his wounds was rapidly weakening him. He could hear his comrades screaming and falling to the ground, but he no longer had the strength to raise his arms.

Finally, Kragan leaned on his axe, exhaling heavily, and saw the enemies lighting fires around the iron gate. The Black Masks were destroying their headquarters. As the flames rose into the sky, Kragan collapsed. Beside him lay the lifeless bodies of his seven comrades. When the courtyard fell silent, all that remained of the Black Masks was smoke rising in the darkness. As Kragan's consciousness faded into total darkness, Corvus, lying in his tent, opened his eyes