A day before the storm of war struck, Salkha Village was already enveloped in a premonition. The news of the nomadic rotation shift, announced by the elders, carried an unusual tone of urgency in every instruction, as if an unspoken threat lay beneath the routine.

In the central ger, Elder Eldeghai announced an urgent meeting. Family leaders and senior warriors had been inside since sunset, and none had emerged yet. The guards stood straighter than usual, their faces stern and unreadable.

Outside that circle of honor, Yul stood alone. His back was straight, but his eyes never left the thick, tightly closed curtain of the ger. As Bataar's adopted son, he was a respected warrior, yet his outsider status estranged him from the core clan meetings. His order was short and clear: wait outside.

An invisible wall separated him from the decision-makers, yet this did not diminish his loyalty in the slightest.

When the curtain parted, Bataar stepped out, his face grim and burdened.

"Bataar," Yul greeted. "What's happening? A trade route issue?"

Bataar shook his head, his gaze dark. "No, Yul. It's worse." He paused for a moment, ensuring no one else was within earshot. "Elder Eldeghai has just announced that we must prepare for the nomadic rotation shift earlier than scheduled."

Yul frowned. "A shift? Now? The storm season hasn't even truly ended." He knew this was not just an ordinary move.

"The shift is just a cover-up to prevent panic. The real order for the warriors... for us... is to prepare weapons and horses. We must prepare for the worst possible scenario."

A chill ran down Yul's spine. "The worst possible scenario?"

Bataar looked straight into Yul's eyes, and in his adoptive father's gaze, Yul saw the answer he feared most.

"War."

The word hung heavy in the cold night air. Bataar didn't need to say anything more. A brief nod from him was enough. Yul understood. There was no time for questions, no room for doubt.

The village surface remained calm, but in the shadows, Salkha warriors moved.

There was no sound, only the sound of blades being honed and the quiet checking of bowstrings. Cartwheels were silently moved to form makeshift barricades. Yul took his place among them, his hands steady as he sharpened his sword, his sharp eyes catching every silent signal from Bataar and Jochi.

The Salkha warriors did not rest. They became vigilant guardians, shadows preparing to welcome the bloody moment they knew was approaching.

Dusk had barely vanished when hell struck Salkha Village. A deafening war horn broke the tense silence, accompanied by the thunder of hundreds of horses tearing through the darkness from the southern border. Salkha Village instantly turned into a battlefield. Panic screams mingled with the clang of swords as the Tam Mori Clan marauders charged. Black smoke billowed from burning gers, spewing a choking, burnt smell.

Eldeghai's decision to reinforce defenses proved correct, but the attack came too fast, and not everyone was ready.

"HOLD THE LINE!" Bataar roared.

Bataar, with a grim face and a shield in hand, struggled to form a defense. "ARCHERS, TO THE SIDE! DON'T LET THEM FLANK US!"

Yul and Jochi fought side-by-side on the front line. Yul moved swiftly, his sword slashing with deadly precision. Every swing was a dance of death, reflecting years of discipline and training. His dark deel was already stained with dust and blood, but his sky-blue eyes remained focused, looking for gaps in the enemy's defense.

The scent of his body now mixed with the smell of sweat and smoke. He leaped, spun, dodging an enemy slash, then countered with a powerful swing that brought down a horseman. He was an unexpected storm, his every move a calculated decision, driven by one resolve: to protect.

Beside him, Jochi, in his tattered yellow deel, fought with blazing spirit. He might not be as efficient as Yul, but his bravery was unquestionable. His sword flashed, parrying attacks and occasionally countering, though he often relied on Yul to cover his gaps.

"Jochi, watch your back!" Yul shouted, quickly cutting down an attacker.

"Thanks, Yul!" Jochi gasped, sweat mixed with dust soaking his face. "There are too many of them!"

Indeed. The Tam Mori marauders came like a tidal wave, riding sturdy horses, fully armed, and merciless.

Far from the center of the battle, Entya ran with all her might. The sounds of battle had reached her ears while she was still near the spring. With a pounding heart, she moved like a shadow among the bushes and trees on the hills overlooking the camp. Her breath caught as she saw the fire and chaos engulfing her home.

She took a deep breath, feeling the energy at her fingertips surge, urging to come out. From her safe position, she drew her bow. It was time to act.

The first arrow shot, splitting the night air with a faint hiss. It pierced the neck of a mounted marauder who was about to strike an elderly woman. The marauder tumbled from his horse, becoming a lifeless heap on the wet ground. The second arrow precisely hit the chest of another careless attacker, making him fall without a sound. The third, lodged in a foe's shoulder, making him drop his sword with a moan.

She had disabled three enemies, providing a small opening for the Salkha warriors.

Amidst the chaos, Entya searched for Yul and Jochi. Her eyes scanned the battlefield, her heart sinking as she saw how critical the situation was. Her eyes found Jochi, overwhelmed by two marauders. He tried to parry, but his movements were slowing, his breath ragged.

Entya raised her bow, aiming. Her heart pounded.

But she was too late.

A sword flashed, plunging into Jochi’s stomach. He collapsed, his yellow deel soaking with blood. Jochi fell to his knees, his sword slipping from his grasp.

"JOCHI!" Yul roared, his eyes red. Yul, who had been in attack mode, turned quickly to shield Jochi from the next attack. Driven by the instinct to protect his friend, he wildly leaped to shield Jochi, leaving his own defense wide open. Another marauder seized the opportunity.

Slash!

Yul felt a cold slash across his chest. Fresh blood immediately seeped from his dark deel. He flinched, staggering back. His breath caught with a burning pain, but he planted his feet firmer on the ground. He stood tall, a living shield for the groaning Jochi. Anyone who wanted to hurt Jochi would have to step over his corpse first.

From her hiding spot, Entya's world collapsed. A hysterical scream caught in her throat, turning into silent sobs. She wanted to shout Yul's name, to run toward him, but her body was frozen, paralyzed by the horror she had just witnessed.