Time Travel? Rebirth? I Will Win This Time!

Before the sun had risen, the morning star still gleamed brightly in the sky. In a small village at the border, the peaceful villagers had already begun their daily labor, taking advantage of the cool morning air.

The palm groves and orchards were scattered with workers, their cheerful greetings echoing through the air, punctuated by hearty laughter. The creaking sound of wooden treadmills filled the air as water flowed through meticulously maintained irrigation channels, while bleating goats were herded out of their pens by shepherds, grazing on the tender grass that had sprung up with the rains. The old houses, though weathered, had windows adorned with dates and dried fruits, giving the village a lively, thriving feel.

Adilay, dressed in rough cloth, excitedly dashed out of her home, waving the simple windmill her father had made for her. Her bell-like laughter danced with the breeze.

"Adilay, slow down or you'll fall!" a kindly farmer called out as he passed.

But Adilay didn't stop. She merely stuck out her tongue at him and continued running, letting the windmill spin merrily in her hands.

Passing the dome-shaped mosque, the mischievous girl, under the watchful gaze of the gentle imam, plucked a ripe grape from the vine and popped it into her mouth, her eyes squinting into a crescent of delight.

Breathless, she ran to the well, where three other children were already waiting for her.

"Adilay, you're late again!" called out the tall, lanky Hadi, waving his hand.

"My mother was busy. I had to help her with the chores," Adilay replied, waving her windmill in mild annoyance.

"Enough talking, let's get started! It's Hadi's turn to be 'it' this time!" Abbas, the smallest of the group, sniffled loudly, calling out.

Hadi leaned against a nearby palm tree, loudly counting out numbers as the other children scattered like fledglings from the nest.

As Adilay twirled her windmill, her eyes fell on a large wicker jar nearby, filled with dried grapes. The jar was almost empty except for a small space that could perfectly fit her.

Excited, she squeezed between the wicker strands and peered out, watching the world go by. But after a while, the stillness became boring.

"Maybe I hid too well," she mused, her playful thoughts drifting into a light nap.

How long had passed, she wasn't sure, but the sound of voices shouting and the clanging of metal woke her suddenly. Dazed and confused, she opened her eyes and saw something that made her heart freeze.

The usually stern village elder was arguing with a group of men in black.

A piercing scream sliced through the air, and Adilay's heart skipped a beat. Through the gaps in the wicker, she saw the village elder, lying in a pool of blood, while the black-clad men swung curved blades, chasing after familiar faces.

A long knife slashed through the morning air, striking down the farmer who had warned her earlier. The man struggled to rise but was decapitated with a second strike.

Adilay trembled uncontrollably, pressing her hands over her mouth, but her body still betrayed her with soft sobs.

A dark figure approached, casting a shadow over the wicker jar. The sun seemed to disappear, swallowed by an oppressive gloom. Adilay, huddled against the wall, sought solace in its cold, hard presence, hoping it might give her strength.

A long knife suddenly slammed into the wall right in front of her, its pale steel reflecting her terrified face. She almost couldn't stop herself from screaming.

But, to her relief, the knife was slowly withdrawn, and the shadowy figure, unaware of her presence, turned and walked away.

Only after the black-clad man had gone did Adilay scramble out of the jar.

What greeted her was chaos—houses ablaze, mangled limbs scattered across the blood-soaked sand.

"Father? Mother? Where are you? Adilay is so scared!" she cried desperately as she stumbled through the village, tears streaming down her face.

The ground was littered with fire and bodies, and in her panic, Adilay tripped, nearly falling onto the half-buried body of Abbas, his blood trailing behind him.

She was paralyzed with fear, unable to stop herself from crying out as she ran away in sheer terror.

"I need to go home! I want to go home!" Adilay's only thought was to find shelter.

She stumbled toward her house, her heart breaking at the sight of two familiar, lifeless figures lying cold in the dirt.

Adilay could no longer hold back. She wailed, her grief echoing through the desolate streets.

Her cries attracted more horror. A figure in black emerged from the street corner, a blood-stained curved blade in hand.

The long shadow stretched over Adilay, and as she tried to rise, her fear overwhelmed her, and she collapsed onto the ground.

Her parents' severed heads filled her vision, the blood's stench suffocating her. She struggled to move, but her body refused to obey, her limbs frozen in terror.

The black-clad man slowly approached, raising his blade high, its gleam like cold moonlight above her head.

"Someone, please save me!" Adilay cried, burying her face in the sand, her body trembling uncontrollably.

Suddenly, a loud horn blast pierced the air!

A knight in white armor with a red cross rode around the corner, mounted on a magnificent warhorse, his lance aimed directly at the black-clad figure.

The man in black barely had time to react, fleeing in panic, but the knight's lance pierced him through, pinning him to the wall.

A cloud of dust rose in the distance as more knights in white armor poured onto the battlefield, charging toward the village with renewed fury.

Adilay slowly lifted her head, seeing the knight dismount and approach her. He spoke in a language she couldn't understand.

Realizing she didn't understand him, the knight removed his helmet, revealing a handsome face, and smiled gently.

"God heard my prayer!" Adilay could no longer hold back. She threw herself into the knight's arms, crying uncontrollably.

Otto, the knight, gently patted the back of the girl, who was about the same age as Mike Bai, comforting her until she finally fell asleep, exhausted from the horrors she had endured.

Carefully, Otto placed her on his horse and began the ride back to the knight's camp. Once there, he found a villager to take care of Adilay before heading off to report to his commander.

In the command tent, Commander Odo stood with several other knights, discussing military matters.

"Lord Commander," called Evred, bloodied from the battle, as he entered. "We were too late. The village's water supply has been contaminated."

Commander Odo frowned. "How long can our supplies last?"

"Food is still sufficient, but we have enough water for only five more days," came the reply.

"From here to the stronghold of the Assassins, it will take at least three days. And the water sources along the way are likely to be poisoned as well," Evred added with concern.

"What should we do? If we press on, we must take the fortress within two days to secure supplies, or we'll have to retreat," the commander asked, his voice grave.

There was a long pause, everyone deep in thought, when Otto's voice broke the silence.

"Lord Commander, we rescued a group of refugees along the way."

One of the knights spoke up. "Our supplies are already low; there's no need to waste them on these heathens."

"Should we simply turn our backs on these innocent people?" Otto replied sharply.

"They're heathens!" the knight argued.

"They're innocent people!" Otto countered.

"Enough!" Commander Odo interjected. "The army's water supply is running low. We cannot afford to care for them. Let them figure it out."

"Lord Commander, why don't we ask them if they know of any other water sources?" Otto suggested. "They're locals. They might know something."

Commander Odo raised an eyebrow. "Go ahead and ask."

"Understood!"

Otto approached the refugees, explaining his intentions through an interpreter.

"Well, sir, it's not that we don't want to help, but our village only has two wells in the center," one of the villagers explained.

"Is there really no other source?" Otto asked with a sigh. "The truth is, our water supply is running low too, and we may not be able to offer more help. Please, think carefully."

"There may be a place with water!" Adilay suddenly cried out.

Everyone turned in surprise to look at the girl. Otto, recalling how he had rescued her, couldn't help but think of Mike Bai.

"Child, what's your name? How do you know there's water?" Otto asked with a smile.

"My name is Adilay," she said proudly, "When I went on an adventure, I discovered a secret base. There's a dry well there, but when I fell into it, the bottom was still damp!"

"Take me there," Otto urged.

With the guide leading the way, Otto and Adilay rode for half a day before arriving at a cave.

Adilay pointed at the entrance. "This is our secret base. I found it with Hadi and Abbas. We discovered it together." Her voice faltered as memories of her lost friends filled her heart, and tears welled up again.

Otto gently patted her head. "It's okay, child. They will watch over you from the sky."

Once Adilay had regained her composure, Otto lit a torch and they entered the cave. Inside, the space opened up into a large, dimly lit hall. Otto noticed walls adorned with faded frescoes, depicting people in worship.

Before he could investigate further, a scream pierced the air.

"Ah!" Otto spun around, searching for Adilay.

"I'm here!" she called, her voice coming from the left.

Otto rushed over and found her near a broken stone, excitedly waving her arms as she stood in water just covering her ankles.

"A lucky child!" Otto smiled, his spirits lifting.