Akram stood directly behind his comrades, in front of the HQ, giving them orders and telling them how to act properly.
He had never taken part in a battle of this scale, let alone commanded troops in this way.
But this was where he stood out. If he had been considered a once-in-a-generation genius in his own time, it was not for nothing.
He was learning in real time, here and now, while his life and the lives of his men rested in the palm of his hand.
He didn't panic. He kept giving orders nonstop, never hesitating, acting purely on instinct.
With every new decision, his brain absorbed information, compared outcomes, tested probabilities—all within a few milliseconds.
Yet, there was one thing he could not foresee.
Koard was face to face with Elliot, his daggers diving toward his comrade's throat at terrifying speed.
Akram could not allow himself to watch someone else die in front of him. That would be too much, even for him.
So he instinctively extended his arm… his metal prosthetic.
With a sharp, focused motion, he triggered a pin built into the prosthetic.
A miniature crossbow unfolded from it, an explosive iron chestnut loaded at the tip.
Akram fired without wasting a single second.
BOOM
Koard saw the projectile at the very last moment. He pressed his arms against his face on reflex as the chestnut exploded on impact.
He was instantly thrown several meters away, far from the walls, crashing heavily onto the ground.
The metal plates on his forearms had reduced the impact, but he was clearly injured and in shock. Several of his men rushed to his side.
Zarod watched the entire scene, his eyes following Koard.
He clicked his tongue.
Nearby, Elliot slowly came back to his senses, still stunned by the force of the explosion.
"Elliot, are you holding up?!" Akram shouted.
"Y-yeah… yeah, I'm fine!" Elliot replied, even though a piercing ringing filled his ears.
Akram nodded, a slight smile forming at the corner of his lips, satisfied with the result.
In addition to reinforcing his prosthetic, he had added several upgrades, including this portable chestnut-launching crossbow, greatly increasing his firepower.
***
The battle intensified, and the Vulkans refused to give ground. The sand bandits were being pushed back by the turrets' firepower, and the screams and death rattles had broken the resolve of several of them, who began to flee.
Zarod clicked his tongue again, visibly irritated.
"Hey, you." he said, pointing at a soldier.
"Uh… y-yes, sir?" the man answered hesitantly.
"Hand that over." Zarod added, nodding toward the crossbow-rifle the soldier was holding.
The man rushed to comply, handing over his weapon without hesitation, despite the fear Zarod inspired.
Zarod grabbed it, almost tearing it from his subordinate's hands.
He examined it quickly as shrapnel flew around him and explosions shook the troops still standing behind him.
He reloaded it, adjusted the sight, and aimed straight at Runa.
Thanks to the reflection of light on Zarod's scope, Runa immediately realized she was being targeted.
"This isn't going to go your way, buddy! Akram! I'll take care of their leader!" she shouted, almost excited at the idea of killing her enemy.
"Huh? No, wait, Runa!" Akram tried to stop her.
She raised the turret's barrel, aiming directly at Zarod, and fired almost instantly.
Zarod released his first bolt.
It struck Runa's bolt mid-air, detonating it on the spot.
Runa couldn't believe her eyes. She stood frozen for a few seconds.
Zarod smiled, then fired another bolt, which flew straight toward her at full speed.
It hit.
More precisely, it exploded directly against the turret, damaging it badly and jolting Runa hard enough to snap her out of it.
Damn… I need to stay focused, come on! she thought, her heart racing with stress.
"Damn, thought I got the little bitch… Alright, the next one will do it." Zarod muttered, still completely calm.
He reloaded his crossbow and fired again.
Runa tried to return fire, shooting back as well—but it was already too late.
The bolt struck the chestnut attached to the turret.
BOOM
The turret exploded on impact, and Runa was violently thrown backward.
"RUNA!" the Vulkans shouted together.
Runa fell from the wall and slammed into the ground, groaning in pain.
Akram rushed toward her, abandoning his strategist position for the moment.
"Shit! Runa, can you hear me? Runa! Can you hear me?!" he shouted, panicked.
Meanwhile, Zarod celebrated his shot triumphantly, cheering like a child.
His men stood speechless, stunned by their leader's skill and precision. None of them had ever seen anything like it.
"M'hahaha, nice shot, right guys? Move up, move up!" he laughed, resting the weapon on his shoulder.
"Alright… now it's his turn." he added in a darker tone, initiating the second phase of his plan.
At the same time, Akram did everything he could to treat Runa, wrapping bandages around her burns and cleaning her wounds in complete urgency.
"Don't move. I'm going to get better supplies to treat you properly, I'll be right back!" he said, trying to reassure her.
He stood up and ran toward the HQ, searching for the medical kits he had prepared.
He rummaged through everything, grabbing as much as he could to ease Runa's pain.
Then he stopped dead in his tracks.
A heavy metallic sound echoed behind him.
He turned around slowly.
An individual was standing behind him, holding a rusted, fully patched-together blade.
A harsh, mechanical breathing—more like a violent racket—came from the figure.
Where did he come from? How did he get in? How did I miss him?! Akram thought, shaken.
This time, he was completely on his own. His men, reduced to only two, were fully focused on holding back the bandit invasion, unable to notice what was about to happen to their leader.