As the figure, spear shouldered, strode toward him, Ethan's mind echoed with something he had read, words once spoken by a famous historical General from ancient times.
A man, a spear, a steed—dominating the battlefield. Breaking through enemy lines, relying solely on unwavering loyalty.
A commander's duty: to serve with utmost devotion. Alone, spear in hand, he cuts through the siege, his fierce spirit chilling the enemy's heart.
Where does the soul return? He asks the heavens, two, three times.
Though he had no steed, nor was he a general, that aura—that presence—reminded him of a man unyielding against a thousand foes.
Ethan stood there, stunned.
The figure approaching from the opposite side looked equally startled. Ethan was positioned on a rise, with what looked like a sand dune separating them. From a distance, the man had assumed Ethan was simply sitting on the dune. But as he drew closer and crested the slope, his eyes widened in disbelief.
