Egypt, along the banks of the Nile, as the sun slowly sank beneath the horizon.
Under the deepening night, a vast complex of radiant temples rose at the heart of the citadel. Formed from interlocking, pyramid-like structures stretching for several kilometers, it was a breathtaking sight.
Runes floated in the air, pulsing and flickering, while the towering golden divine structures radiated waves of brilliance, illuminating the darkness like an artificial sun. The Egyptians gazed upon it in awe, bowing in reverence and worship.
"Thud…"
Inside the grand, empty hall, Ramesses II lounged on his throne, legs crossed, chin propped on one hand, his posture relaxed and unrestrained. With a casual flick, he tossed the last processed papyrus scroll onto the table.
The crisp sound echoed through the hall. Below, two massive, brown-gold Sphinxes, each several meters tall with both majesty and elegance, lazily opened their eyes, glanced around, then closed them again. Like oversized house cats, they lay sprawled beside their feeding basins on either side of the hall, dozing in contentment.
"These lazy beasts are going to end up as harmless pets under Nitocris and Cleopatra sooner or later."
Ramesses II glanced at them and shook his head with a faint, amused scold. As if influenced by their drowsy calm, he too relaxed, leaning back against the throne and letting out a yawn. His sun-like golden eyes grew heavy with fatigue.
As his eyelids drooped, the brilliance in his gaze dimmed. His vision blurred, and in that haze, he seemed to see a woman from his memories approaching him.
Long black hair draped over her shoulders, a red flower adorning her hair, her bearing graceful and refined. She walked toward him with a gentle smile.
Nefertari…
Ramesses II's expression softened as he murmured her name, his voice filled with quiet warmth.
As the elegant woman approached the steps below the throne, she smiled and drew a fair, rosy child out from the shadows behind her.
The gentle queen crouched, pointing forward as she spoke softly, though her words could not be heard.
The child's eyes lit up. Breaking free from his mother's hand, he ran up the steps with laughter, rushing toward the figure on the throne.
The king, adorned with golden ornaments and a white cloak trailing behind him, rose to his feet. Like a sun god radiating brilliance, he laughed openly and spread his arms wide.
But just as the child was about to leap into his embrace, the small figure suddenly looked up.
In an instant, the child's rosy face turned a ghastly pale green. Dark red and black blood seeped from his eyes, nose, ears, and mouth. His delicate arms shed their flesh, transforming into clawed limbs that lunged viciously for the Pharaoh's throat.
Get away!
Ramesses II reacted instinctively, swinging his arm as golden divine power surged outward.
The grotesque child before him shattered instantly.
At the same time, the graceful figure of the black-haired queen twisted and broke apart, scattering like burning ash.
Hah!
With a sharp breath, the Pharaoh snapped his eyes open. His consciousness returned, and he realized he was still seated on the throne. Everything just now had been nothing more than a dream born from his own mind.
Silence followed.
An oppressive, chilling aura filled the vast hall. The candle flames flickered uneasily, and even the nearby Sphinxes lay flat against the ground, trembling.
Bang!
A dull, heavy sound echoed as Ramesses II's fist sank into the stone platform. His teeth ground together, and a cold voice forced its way out between them.
"Moses!"
At the peak of the Pharaoh's surging emotions, a deep, murky shadow spread quietly behind him. Pitch-black wings of death descended in silence.
Smack!
Smack!
"General…"
...
Beneath the shade of a tree in the village, Samael pushed a "Knight" deep into enemy territory, completing the encirclement of the "King" on a crude checkered board.
"Did the boss lose again?"
"What's the hurry? It's not over yet!"
"I don't see how she gets out of this. How many times has it been now?"
"At least seventeen or eighteen…"
Across from him, seated on a stone bench, Hassan of the Hundred Faces remained calm and focused, shutting out the chatter around her as she studied the board again and again, searching for a flaw.
But the more she examined it, the more her heart sank.
Placed within that position, there was a sheer cliff ahead, pursuers behind, thunder pressing from above, countless traps below. Underfoot lay snares, and in her hand, a ticking bomb. There was no way forward, no escape backward. One wrong move meant total destruction.
It was a perfect kill. A situation with no path to survival.
Left with no other option, Hassan of the Hundred Faces knocked over the king piece, conceded with what dignity she had left, and tossed today's wager to Samael across the board.
"Tch. Despicable outsider. Bringing this sort of game here, you clearly never had good intentions!"
"Exactly!"
The nearby spectators saw Hassan of the Hundred Faces get up and instantly changed their tune, each of them indignantly condemning the culprit who had brought in these crooked little tricks and corrupted the wholesome atmosphere of the village.
But the moment Hassan of the Hundred Faces disappeared around the corner, rustling sounds and muffled cursing immediately rose from behind her. The crowd that had been openly taking bets on the match hurried to settle their accounts.
The winners were all smiles, shouting that they were going to drag their favorite cash cow out for drinks that night. The losers grumbled and cursed, mocking a Hassan with the wisdom of a hundred minds who still could not survive a mere hundred moves on the board.
"Are you all that idle? Don't any of you have work to do instead of gathering here?!"
Just as the gamblers were busy collecting and paying out, a heavy voice rang through the crowd. An utterly unremarkable middle-aged man let out a cold snort.
"Go do today's exercises a hundred times over! Immediately! Right now!"
The familiar presence of that middle-aged man, together with the sight of Hassan of the Hundred Faces standing on the ridge with hands clasped behind her back and looking down at them in silence, made the gamblers wilt like frostbitten eggplants.
She actually left a split body here too? Revenge! This had to be revenge! Was she really that petty?
Grumbling inwardly, the assassins, who had only just managed to steal a moment of leisure, reluctantly gathered at the assembly point to receive today's special training.
The noisy scene emptied out in an instant. Samael calmly tidied up the board and watched with great interest as the Assassin acrobatics troupe threw themselves through all manner of extreme stunts among the steep mountain ridges, leaping, twisting, dodging, and contorting.
Not especially practical, perhaps, but undeniably entertaining.
After that bit of amusement, the Amazon queen Hippolyta, who had been standing watch nearby, walked over and asked in a low voice,
"How are things?"
"The second move has already been played. Now we just wait patiently for the result."
"Sending the Persian Assassins to assassinate the Pharaoh of Egypt... if I had not seen it with my own eyes, I would never have believed she would agree to it."
"You didn't see it coming. Persia and Egypt won't see it coming either. That is exactly why things can proceed in the direction I want."
Samael narrowed his eyes with a smile, the corners of his lips lifting in clear satisfaction.
Bringing the Assassins under his control was only a means, not the end.
His real purpose on this trip was to drive a wedge between Persia and Egypt and break apart the anti-Greek alliance.
Last time in Rome, Cyrus had very unkindly left Attila and Ramesses II behind and fled first. Now if a certain Grand Assassin went to carry out another assassination attempt, would that not make things wonderfully lively?
So he had already scraped together his seed money and was just waiting to enjoy the show.
Oh, and while he was at it, it was about time to prepare for the latter half of the second move as well.