The cold, battering winds of Mount Runner had claimed many lives over the centuries - yet this robed figure stood calmly at its peak, his clothing flapping in the frigid gale. Millenia-old eyes stared across all of Carthage, until they could see no more. The land looked so very different than it once had - especially before the blood had stained the land so.
Hannibal spoke very little of what he saw during his sleep, but his thoughts clearly dwelled on the events that had transpired.
War raged on, despite the new God's tampering. The Glorious Hannibal, beginning to show signs of his weariness, now rode upon the most magnificent steed that any had ever set eyes on, the Paragon of its kind.
Carthage did not lose wars.
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"HAMMARUBI!" he roared, as the battle raged all around him. Bullets rained across the field like a hurricane, but even the bullets now feared Hannibal and dared not touch him.
"HANNIBAL!" came the reciprocal challenge, and stepping out onto the no-man's land, it was indeed the object of his quest, come to final fruition. Hannibal raised his blade towards the Heathen Son.
"I have searched long and far for you, Hammarubi, and your life is forfeit!"
"You have killed millions in a quest to convince yourself your son's life was not your own taking! I am not fooled, Hannibal, and today YOU will die at my hands! CARTHAGE will BURN!"
The winds began swirling about Hannibal as his Heavenly mount rushed forward, dust kicking up behind him as he barreled down on his enemy. In an instant, Hammarubi drew his pistol...
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...the cloaked figure fell to his knees, and then braced himself up with his hands. It was so cold, all of a sudden, up on this Holy Mountain. How had he not felt how cold, how alone this peak was?
He stood slowly once more, and looked to the heavens, whose clouds and stars were churning with anticipation of his next move....
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...and fired a single shot - but it was enough. Hannibal was tossed clean of his mount as the bullet perforated his shoulder, the winds ceasing as he hit the ground with none of the grace of a God-King
Is it possible for a God to know fear?
Hannibal bled, but he did not stop. Pulling himself to his knees...
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...the old man shouted at the skies, roaring wordless curses, over and over, a primal scream that only stopped when the old man needed to breathe.
"Why am I your chosen? What have I done!?"
But the heavens heard this, and they churned...
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...Hannibal weakly lifted his sword off the ground just in time for Hammarubi's boot to send his whole body swiftly back to meet the earth. The deafening sound of Chinese cannons rang through the air, and at once Hannibal knew that his mount was no more - indeed, all of the mounted cavalry bucked and shifted, braying in protest. But Hannibal was now fighting for his life - something he had never done before. Rolling with a groan, the dirt where he had rested moments ago exploded in a maelstrom of dust as a great flail head descended on nothing.
Hannibal now stared at Hammarubi, and as the Younger Immortal sought to retrieve his weapon's head the God-King lept, bringing them both to the bloodied dirt now. Hammarubi grabbed the hilt of Hannibal's blade, and then the blade itself, piercing his own flesh to push the razor-sharp longsword closer and closer to the waning Hannibal's throat...
One shot rang out, and Hannibal was covered in blood - the Blood of an Immortal.
A smoking rifle betrayed the soldier who had, at long last, ended the struggle between the two feuding Immortals. Lady Elona avenged her son.
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...
"I defy you!"
Yes, the heavens churned.