No matter how one looked at it, the Egyptian army could only sit and await death.
The Amun Legion could no longer withstand the Hittite chariot corps. Muwatalli had successfully executed his strategy, and now he held overwhelming victory.
Hittite soldiers gutted Egyptians one by one or pierced them with spears, leaving them to howl in agony as they died.
Yet none of this excited him more than discovering that Rasses himself was present in the camp.
The Asian coalition led by Hattusili had already joined Muwatalli. Although the Hittite infantry of his own people were still trailing behind the chariot corps and hadn't reached the battlefield, no one doubted that the Hittites would achieve ultimate victory.
Under Muwatalli's new orders, hundreds of chariots thundered toward the Pharaoh's location.
Pleased with himself, Muwatalli, along with Hattusili and the Asian princes, prepared to witness the enemy monarch in his final monts.
Then they saw that the barricades guarding the Pharaoh's quarters had been removed. The young Egyptian Pharaoh sat atop his chariot. Behind him were rcenaries already ford into a phalanx—easy to recognize, because Egyptian soldiers all wore uniform clothing, whereas Egyptian rcenaries, like the Hittites, dressed as they pleased.
It was evident that this Pharaoh, unlike his timid subjects, intended to fight to the death.
Such bravery impressed Muwatalli. He could not help but say to Hattusili beside him: "Such a resolute king is worthy of being our kin. This victory is thanks to you, Hattusili."
"No," Hattusili replied, "it was the two Bedouins who perford too convincingly. Their lies made the enemy believe our army wasn't here."
"Conquering Egypt will bring eternal glory and wealth to our family," Muwatalli said, clearly satisfied with Hattusili's humility. "Let us watch this monarch die as a warrior. I will order that no one dishonor his body afterward; he deserves such honor."
Before he finished speaking, he witnessed a mont that would remain etched in his mory forever.
Shortly after Muwatalli expressed his magnanimity, the beleaguered Pharaoh, seeing the approaching iron army, recited in his heart a prayer that his ancestors had once spoken.
Amid the wind, he saw a temple and within it a statue. The statue had fiery red eyes and took the form of a standing man, his face like a dog, with a long face and large ears.
Before the expedition, Rasses had worshiped it in his new city. It stood in a corner of the old city, established centuries ago by the invading Hyksos. Maintained by successive Pharaohs to ward off evil and gain divine protection, it once again appeared.
However, unlike the new city, this ti its fiery red eyes beca real flas, blazing. Its legs, fixed to the base, stepped forward, approaching Rasses.
Unnoticed by others, this great deity manifested before Rasses.
"Set, You are Almighty! Let unite with You; grant power!" Rasses cried, excitent filling his heart—he was not abandoned by the god.
But the next mont, he was stunned to see Set's eyes convey "You're annoying," and then the god vanished.
What was happening?
Rasses was dumbfounded.
Yet in the eyes of others—especially the Hittites—it appeared differently.
The scorching sunlight made Hittite soldiers and their allies squint. Though the sky was clear, thunder roared.
A radiant light enveloped the Egyptian Pharaoh, making him shine like gold in the sun.
It was the power of the sun god.
Under this divine power, the Hittites lost control of their horses. Each horse reared and fell, chariots overturned, and chaos erupted.
The attackers panicked, and this also awakened Rasses' rationality.
He discovered that he had imnse strength; indestructible flas burned on him, his breath beca a gale, tossing Hittite chariots aside.
Killer—the lion—also joined in the massacre. Invulnerable to weapons, incredibly agile, it shredded enemies with a single swipe, its beautiful mane flaming like fire.
A Lydian infantryman drew his bow, but lacked ti to complete his action; a flying arrow pierced his left eye. Killer reached him next, biting off his neck.
Under these supernatural assaults, the Hittite forces attacking Rasses were quickly annihilated before Muwatalli's stunned eyes.
"Is he… a god?" Muwatalli's face drained of color as he watched the flas on Rasses reduce a Hittite to ashes.
"No, this is likely Egyptian magic—flas and storm—the power of Egypt's war god," Hattusili replied, face grim but composed. "Look behind him, there is soone."
Muwatalli focused. Thanks to divine enhancent, he could see farther and clearer. Behind Rasses, deep in the camp, a tent remained intact.
A young man stood before it, in front of the burned coalition soldiers.
"It's him!" Muwatalli was moved. He recognized the person disguised as his kinsman.
Yet as he tried to see more clearly, the young man suddenly looked at him, seemingly smiling.
Muwatalli seed to hear the sound of pottery shattering in his head. The divine magic previously enhancing his vision vanished!
No…
That wasn't human!
"He's not human!" Muwatalli gasped, struggling to suppress the instinct to flee, shouting in anger, "That's an Egyptian deity! Send the priests at once! We need the power of the storm god!"
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