The Darkest Champion

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Masiki trod on the ashes of the civilization she created. Delicate flakes drifted from the smoke-smothered sky, silent testimony of the once-proud constructs reduced to little more than rubble. The stench of soot and burnt bodies hung in the air; corpses littered the streets, some still smoldering and blackened beyond recognition. The curtain of smoky haze periodically parted to allow brief glimpses of the steepled pyramids that towered above the chaos — mute witnesses that helplessly watched their city as it collapsed in spurts of blood and fire.

The streets were hushed. The conquerors from Sargonia escaped from the simmering heat inside of the buildings they spared, their attention diverted by the spoils of war. They delighted in feasting and revelry, torture and humiliation of their captives, and whatever other depravities they could conjure up behind the walls of the newly occupied structures. There was no need to remain alert or post more than the occasional lookout or squadron of guards. The mighty nation of Hikuptah was conquered, humbled by a rebellion of its slaves and one former soldier the common people named Godslayer.

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