“Everyone is here,” Phalanx says, patting his chest. "Now just wait for your signal."

Jon glances at the army of only one hundred and fifty-one men with a little anxiety in his heart. But the boiling will of each person in return also gives him some peace of mind. The seashore is still churning, and the ocean is black with ferocious tides. The sea breeze blows like a storm, the weather is still like a death god is urgently demanding someone's life. Jon steps out into the center so that all one hundred and fifty-one people can see him, including the thirteen leading warriors. Jon is only eight years old, but right now, he is not small at all. His expression looks experienced and mature, perhaps inherited from Reind, which makes what he is about to say more formal. Before he speaks, he wants to close his eyes to concentrate. In both his ears, the sound of the sea waves rumbling, along with the sound of the wind, all are chaotic. He could not stop his mind from looking over the fragments of the future. Just one mistake, the whole future will be changed. This is no longer a drill like his father has directed. This is war, there will only be one of two outcomes, they will defeat Lapunta to death; or vice versa, Lapunta still sits firmly on the iron throne.

Jon takes a deep breath as his mother had told him. Just by doing that, he will have more courage to do something big. Raindrops begin to fall, concavely creating on the surface of the water circles intersecting with each other. The wind is getting stronger and stronger and the sky is getting darker, the waves crashing against the sand washed away the hesitation. Jon clenches his palms together and, with all his might, shouts:

“From this moment on, we will fight for real. There will be no more drills like my father directed. After today there will be people who will stay, and those who will die. I want to ask again, are you all willing to die for this fateful battle?"

There is no need for him to wait long, everyone here expects this day to come, and death is no longer a scary thing. If they do not go to battle today, they do not die, then one day not far Lapunta will also come and suppress them, that is worse than dying with hands holding a weapon firmly, with the enemy's blood on it. They all say in unison:

"We are ready!"

All of them echo across the land in unison, overpowering the thunder rumbling in the sky. Jon continues:

“No matter what, today we must win. The future of Arglohandre is in our hands,” Jon pauses, taking another long breath. When he is stable again, he continues. “Alright, everyone, keep your weapons in hand. We will sail to the other side of the Black Sea!”

Weapons, they already have in hand, they have never let go of their weapons when summoned. But the problem is they do not have a boat. Even if they did, their boat would not be able to make it through the deep black water holes in the middle of the Black Sea on the line connecting the two shores. As soon as a boat passes by, or rides an animal flying past it, it will immediately be torn to pieces by the sea demon Xoncenork in that whirlpool. Since Lapunta broke the Arglohandre in half, and Xoncenork was awakened, no one has ever been able to cross the shore to this side and vice versa. Everyone is stuck here, or the other side. Many of those who volunteered in this battle have families stranded on the other side of the river, hoping day and night for them to be fine. But all of them are already mentally prepared that they will be dead, and if so, today will be a day for them to close their eyes.

Hargnes steps in front of him and asks:

“All of them are ready. But Jon… we don't have a boat?"

"It's you," he replies shortly. “You are the one who will build for them a ship big enough to cross the Black Sea and Xoncenork.”

"What?" Hargnes still does not understand.

“Trikestion”, he points to the trident he has given her earlier. “But first… I need you to do one thing.”

"What?"

“The ceremony demands a sacrifice,” he pauses. “You need to die… by the sea.”