Each step of the marching crowd made a symphony that mimicked a heartbeat.
It was almost like a blood-pumping cry for war against themselves. They marched as if they were going to gain freedom, but it appeared as if they were going to gain fate's approval.
Malik and Zayne stood in front of Guan Sui, who then pointed to a shortcut to get to their destination.
"I know a quicker route. These sycophants only want to smile for the camera, to the chief's benevolence," the tribesman uttered.
His words held a certain rhythm, like a song, and one would feel like they couldn't be doubted in the slightest.
The three went off course, like three ants departing from the trail of the line.
Buzz.
Malik looked up, but he only saw a group of white seagulls circling the group. For a second, he thought he heard something applauding him from above.
I didn't know the seagulls went this far inland. Are they guarding, or are they waiting?
Eventually, they reached a wall of golden-spotted vines.
"Did you lead us to a dead end?" Zayne asked.
Guan Sui laughed. "Don't be so pessimistic, be joyful."
He looked at them as he lifted a mound of vines, revealing an open path that led to a field. The field was specially carved for the ritual, and on its edges, the forest continued onward.
Malik took note of it. He silently waved to Zayne to keep distance from the man.
I wonder how he found out about this pathway.
The string of symphony that seemed to soothe him loosened at the tribesman's next words.
"Let us welcome you two to the Ant Farm's Spearhead Ritual. May fate be on your side," Guan Sui said as his grin curved further.
Reluctantly, Malik and Zayne went through the hidden passage, averting their gaze from the tribesman. Malik could sense him rapidly tapping his foot on the ground in impatience.
In front of them was a giant field with a golden powdered border surrounding it. Maybe if one were to enter it, they couldn't escape the hands of fate then.
He smiled and decided to turn around. "You really shouldn't touch those vines. They can be poisonous, you know."
Guan Sui sighed. "I know. Now please, step over the golden lines."
Malik badgered, "Why did you only bring us two out here? Why not bring our other friend? C'mon, let's go get her."
The tribesman forced his eyes shut. "Please, enter the are-, I mean, ritual."
"Did I almost hear you say arena?" Malik scoffed, stepping forward.
Then he took a step back, and so did Zayne.
Guan Sui's smile curved downward as a presence began to push the two backwards.
"Go."
. . .
Whoosh.
The tribesman's voice carried a significance larger than before. His voice used to sound like a golden feather caressing them, but now it turned into a golden wall that knocked them backwards.
Malik and Zayne landed on their backs. They heard his voice, but weren't intending to follow the order. The sound of his words held a weight far greater than their defiance.
When they looked up, Guan Sui was gone. Malik swore he heard a fragment of a word he couldn't confirm. "Finally."
His body felt heavier as he tried to get up, but he appeared the same.
Zayne boosted him up on his feet, and when they looked down, they saw it.
A golden powder.
It was lathered all over their feet. It wouldn't come off even if they tried to dust it away.
The feet which guided them to the lands were the very ones that knocked them into the mark of fate's territory.
The two could barely utter a word as they heard faint chanting in the background increase in volume.
Then—
"No! Let me see my son! I can't be the one chosen for this! Not now, just not now!"
A man yelled as a group of leather-armored men with spears forcefully pushed him inside the ritual's border. Behind them, the crowd kept cheering as a small boy's cries could faintly be heard.
Instantly, his feet were coated in a golden hue, despite only touching the field.
The crowd huddled around the border and remained cheering. However, they seemed to avoid the border as if it were deadly. Some merely looked at Malik and Zayne and gave them a small frown before continuing to smile.
Parallel to them, the man rushed upward, as if his feet were burning at the sensation of the field.
He helplessly screamed like a lost ant with vocal cords. He looked around to see anybody else beyond the borders.
As he scanned, hyperventilating, he locked eyes with the two men.
Mouthing, "May you two live a life without burden."
His voice sounded light, but it scratched them in a way they hadn't felt before.
Then he decided to sprint outward into the forest past the golden markers.
As he ran, he stepped over the border, and—
Splutch!
Like a bullet, a man threw a spear into the man's nape.
Immediately, the man fell, and his breathing calmed as he bled out.
One of the leather-armored men from the crowd went up to him and pulled the bloody spear from his body.
He shook the blood off the spear as he began to walk back into the crowd.
Before he could, Malik called out to him. Then he saw his face.
It was Guan Sui.
"Why would you kill that man, Guan Sui?" he demanded.
The armored man scoffed. "I didn't do it. It was meant to happen regardless, since he chose that path. Nobody had to choose it for him."
Malik was lost for words. He tried to argue with him, but nothing could change what had just happened.
He had watched a murder occur right in front of him and could do nothing about it.
Suddenly, groups of soulless-looking men in good shape stepped past the borders. With golden feet, their frowns remained the exact same.
Malik's body shook as something rattled further in his pocket. The rattling was breaching the exit of it.
Then Zayne put a hand on his shoulder. "Be smart, man. We unwillingly signed this contract in blood."
Malik stood, facepalming at his indecision.
Could I have done something? If I decided to go against the mob, could the man have seen his son again?
What does this tribe want from us? Why is it willing to go so far for the eye that can see everything, but can't do anything to stop it?
As Malik pondered, he heard an older voice shout.
"Every man form a circle! Our spearing ritual is about to commence!"
The crowd seemed to adore the voice as they waved their hands in the air when it spoke.
Malik saw the source of the voice, as it had peered right at him.
The village chief.
He kept a forced grin buried in stubbled facial hair. His eyes were the same as Awan's, only full of conviction.
Beside him stood Guan Sui, who was whispering in his ear.
Malik kept an image of them in his mind as his cold gaze remained.
Later, they formed a circle. All of them held spears, including the two mercenaries.
Zayne bumped Malik's shoulder. "C'mon bro. Let's just get this over with."
Malik stayed silent. He still imagined the wicked conversation between the chief and his subordinate.
Did they set us up for something beyond explanation?
The crowd went silent as the Chief cleared his throat.
For a moment, there was ambience. Only the soft rustling of leaves falling to the floor was audible.
The intensity of the circle began to whirr. Each of the men who held spears looked down as if something was about to judge them. If one listened closely, they could hear the beating hearts of each of them.
But Malik's heart didn't waver. It stayed quiet.
. . .
"Throw!!" The Chief roared.
Immediately, each man threw the spears high into the air. Malik threw his a hair later than them.
Above, he saw the circling seagulls orbiting the center of the circle. As the pointed spears decided where to land, none could predict.
Soaring, they looked as if the shadows would alter each of the spears' trajectories.
They were imminent, pointing, and tribulating.
The crowd wanted to avert their eyes, but they couldn't.
In reverence, the wind stopped entirely.
The spears were judging from above.
The circle was hoping from below.
Suddenly—
Crunch!
. . .
Slash!
. . .
Thud.
. . .