The Sun was hitting Titus hard with its rays. The wind was cutting him back and forth like a fast knife. Titus could hardly open his eyes, and the furthest he could see was an arm's length away. He was breathing heavily, and the irregular breathing sounds echoed a song of defeat in his ears. He could no longer stand, so he poked his sword into the ground to support half of his weight.

It was a good fight... for his enemies. His men died. He was the last one standing, wounded. The giants were mocking him now. 'The king of finghters, stand up and fight! Don't tell me you're feeling tired already! You sissy! Stand up and fight us!'

'My King, why did You send me out here to die? You promised to be with me, but look at me now! Look at how my enemies are mocking now!' Tears started to seep through Titus' eyes. He was full of hope, but he felt like giving up now.

'Titus, sit down.'

'Titus, sit down.'

Titus turned slowly and looked around to see who was speaking to him.

'Titus, sit down. I'm your King, sit down and proclaim my name, and I shall rescue you. This is how you should fight. Not with your sword and men, but with my name.'

Titus sat down slowly. The giants started to laugh and mock louder. Titus rested a bit. Then, He gathered all his strength to shout 'In the name of my King and my Lord, Azlan, you be defeated! Arr...!'

Out of a sudden, a very strong bright light shone down from the sky, and caused everyone to close their eyes. One second, two seconds, three seconds... one minute, two minutes... seven minutes had passed, and the bright light disappeared. Titus open his eyes slowly, he looked around and there was no one.

There was no one.

Titus won just another battle.