THE LAST KEEPER

Chapter 338. NICK OF TIME

Azir knew Sagiri too well. One look into his eyes and the disguise could unravel. Kiuga wanted to comfort the boy, but he stayed looking down. Somehow, he felt emotional about that.

"Big Brother!" Azir cried again, his voice breaking completely. "Please say something!" But Kiuga remained silent. He stared at the wooden platform beneath him and said nothing while the boy’s sobs echoed across the execution square.

"Azir! Behave like a city lord!" Zifara yelled an instruction, but of course, Azir kept weeping and begging. Oh, his knees with no shred of dignity."

"Take the city lord away!!" Zifara said his voice was hardening, and his left eye twitched. The child was going to be the death of him.

"Now then, as the people will it, for masquerading to be a chief and of a respectable departed clan, and joining our ranks. You shall all therefore die." Zifara said after a pause.

The square fell silent as the General raised a hand. One by one, the eight prisoners were forced forward. The five condemned men were pushed onto the execution blocks first, their bound hands preventing any resistance as soldiers pressed their necks against the stained wood.

Beside them, Banga, Kaka, and the cloaked figure posing as Sagiri were driven to their knees and held firmly in place as well on chopping boards. Behind each prisoner stood an executioner clad in dark armor, both hands resting upon the hilt of a heavy blade. Torches flickered in the gathering dusk, casting long shadows across the platform.

Azir stood frozen near the front, tears streaming down his face as he watched. Around him, thousands of people held their breath. The chants had finally died. Even the crowd seemed unwilling to break the terrible stillness that had settled over the square. Then the first drum sounded.

A single deep boom rolled through the city like thunder.

Azir flinched.

Another followed. Eight drum beats would sound, and after each one for each man sounded, they would all die. Each beat drew the executioners’ blades higher. Azir’s hands trembled. Eight drum beats for each of the men about to lose their heads.

His eyes never left the cloaked figure.

"Big Brother..." he whispered, his voice barely audible. The sixth beat of the drum landed on the fur-coated giant drum, its deep note swelling across the square as every executioner tightened their grip and prepared to strike.

"Noo!!" Azir screamed. He could not watch Sagiri die. He had saved his life.

"Please, no uncle!!" Azir begged his knees, almost giving out, while he was held back by two of his men. He could not even recognize the voice coming from deep inside him. He was about to watch a man he had shown his inner chambers die. A man who had saved his life. He felt as if he was dying at that moment.

Why was Big Brother acting so weak anyway?

"Big brother, you are being a coward!! You can’t just die without putting up a fight." Azir cried.

The final drum had not yet fallen when Azir suddenly moved. Only one beat remained now—the eighth beat.

One moment, he was struggling against the soldiers holding him back. Next, he twisted free just enough to snatch a dagger from a warrior’s belt. Gasps erupted across the square. Before anyone could react, Azir pressed the blade against his own throat.

Everything stopped instantly. The executioners froze. The soldiers froze. The crowd froze. Even Zifara’s eyes widened in shock. Azir stood trembling, tears streaking down his face, the dagger shaking in his hand but remaining firmly against his skin.

"If Big Brother dies," he cried, his voice breaking as it echoed across the square, "I die too!" The words struck the crowd like a physical blow. Thousands of people stared in stunned silence. The General’s expression hardened. The Warriors took cautious steps forward.

"Azir," someone called. "Put the knife down."

He shook his head violently.

"No!" His grip tightened.

"You all want him dead! Then kill me too!" The square remained locked in silence, every eye fixed on the young city lord. For the briefest moment, even the execution seemed forgotten. Then the stillness began to crack as soldiers shifted uneasily and voices started rising once more from the crowd.

For a brief moment, the entire square hung between chaos and silence.

Then the General’s expression hardened. His hand rose slowly into the air, signaling the final count. At the same instant, his other hand moved. A short blade flashed from his fingers and cut through the air with deadly precision.

Azir barely had time to react before the weapon struck the dagger in his hand, knocking it away in a shower of sparks. The knife spun across the platform and clattered against the stone below. Soldiers immediately surged forward to seize the boy.

Azir screamed and struggled against them, reaching toward the prisoners as tears streamed down his face. Zifara, the Kai of the south, never looked away from the execution platform. He was really commendable in strength. Even when pinned down by the odds, he made the whole thing look easy, and he did not lose his composure once. His raised hand remained steady.

Around him, eight executioners tightened their grip on their weapons. The crowd held its breath. The sun slipped beneath the canyon walls. And then the final beat of the drum sounded. A single thunderous boom rolled across Thazir, echoing from rooftop to rooftop as the General’s hand began to fall.

The executioners moved as one.

Eight blades rose into the air, catching the last traces of firelight as they reached the peak of their arc. Azir’s struggles became frantic. Soldiers could barely hold him as he screamed himself hoarse, tears streaming down his face while he reached desperately toward the platform.

The council members were all standing in the high place with the supreme chief, and of course, they managed to keep their expressions neutral. Perhaps they had not expected Sagiri to go down so easily, or perhaps they were thinking they had overreacted. Even so, no one could change the decisions now. Those who could not agree and those who agreed to his death. All their hands were tied now.

The crowd stood frozen, thousands of faces locked upon the descending blades, many eager, many fearful, and some suddenly uncertain now that the moment had finally arrived. Banga clenched his jaw. Kaka lowered his head and exhaled slowly. The five condemned men stared ahead in grim silence. Kiuga remained perfectly still beneath Sagiri’s cloak, his gaze fixed on the horizon rather than the executioners behind him.

Around the square, warriors tightened their grips on their weapons. The city itself seemed to stop breathing.

Then something shook. A deep vibration rolled through the stone beneath their feet. The platform rattled. Torches flickered violently. The crowd stumbled in confusion. A second tremor followed, far stronger than the first. The ground lurched hard enough to throw people off balance. Cries erupted across the square. Buildings trembled. Dust fell from rooftops. Even the executioners swayed, their carefully raised blades wavered as they fought to keep their footing. The tremors continued, growing stronger with each passing heartbeat, until it felt as though something immense was moving beneath the city itself.

Then a cry loud enough to shake the foundation of Thazir tore through the air and the inner city. It was enough to have everyone tremble in fear.

Everyone in the inner city searched for the source frantically, but it seemed to have come from everywhere at the same time.