As Sati’s arm flopped to her side after another vain attempt to reach her sword, Swuth shook his head. It can’t be a woman. This cannot be the moment. The final kill cannot be a woman!

Swuth turned around and screamed at his people. ‘Move out, you filthy cockroaches! We’re leaving!’

The man standing next to Swuth didn’t obey his order. He continued to stare beyond Swuth, stupefied by the awe-inspiring sight.

Swuth whirled around, stunned. Sati was up on one knee. She was breathing rapidly, forcing some strength into her debilitated body. She had dug her sword into the ground and her right hand was on its hilt as she tried to use the leverage to push herself up. She failed, took quick breaths, fired more energy into her body, and tried once more. She failed again. Then she stopped suddenly. She felt eyes boring into her. She looked up and locked eyes with Swuth.

Swuth stared at Sati, dumbstruck. She was completely soaked in her own blood, there were cavernous wounds all over her body, and her hands were shivering with the tremendous pain she was in. Her soul must know that death was just minutes away. And yet, her eyes did not exhibit even the slightest hint of fear. She stared directly at Swuth with only one expression. An expression of pure, raw, unadulterated defiance.

Tears sprang into Swuth’s eyes as his heart felt immeasurably heavy. His mind grasped his heart’s message instantly. This indeed was his final kill. He would never, ever, kill again.

Swuth knew what he had to do. He drew both his curved swords, held them high by the hilt and thrust them in a downward motion. In a flash, the swords were buried in the ground. For the last time, he looked at both the half-buried, bloodied swords that had served him so well. He would never use them again. He went down on one knee, pulled his shoulders back to give himself leverage and then slammed the hilts with his palms in an outward motion, snapping both blades in two.

He then got up, pulled back his hood and removed his mask. Sati could see the tattoo of a black fireball with rays streaming out on the bridge of his nose. Swuth reached behind and pulled out a sword from a scabbard tied across his back. Unlike all his other weapons, this sword was marked. It was marked with the name of their God, Aten. Below that had been inscribed the name of the devotee, Swuth. The blade had never been used before. It had but one purpose alone: to taste the blood of the final victim. Thereafter, the sword would never be used again. It would be worshipped by Swuth and his descendants.

Swuth bowed low before Sati, pointed at the black tattoo on the bridge of his nose and repeated an ancient vow.