Someone tell me what's going on.

Panic. The plague that so rapidly spread among the troops, faster than the advancing of the explosion. Losing all sense of order, even the words of the soldiers are unintelligible, just spontaneous rambles and shouts. He feels his ears clog up, the sounds all jumbled together in a cacophony of chaos. A hand jerks at his arm, dragging, pulling him away from that fiery ball of light. Before he completely disappears deep underground, he can see the disintegration… no, the vaporization of the formerly grand defenses above through a small opening, like dust and ash thrown into a great bonfire. The heat burns. It hurts. But he doesn’t even have the time to react to his pain.

He feels himself tumbling down the stairs, his body rocking around like a discarded puppet. His light armor could only protect him so much, and he feels the rusted edges stabbing, tearing away at his flesh. Still, as he comes to his senses, he realizes his injuries are the least of his worries.

A stampede. The storm of primal instincts, a complete destruction of order, where soldiers trample over their comrades before they too become part of the “mattress” beneath. Where are they? Yet he does not have even the time to think as he is swept up in it, violently shoved, pushed around.

He trips over a crumpled piece of bone and flesh, formerly a soldier trampled over by his, or her comrades just shortly earlier. The footsteps behind him seem to magnify in volume, their rumbling shaking his eardrums. Run. In an instant, Avalel becomes a part of the lawless, mindless mob, his boots squelching as he steps over broken, dead, bloody bodies. “Order! Order!” He hears a man scream, but is quickly silenced, the figure rapidly disappearing from view.

Above, the ceiling rattles from the constant bombardment of artillery fire. Even in the chaos, Avalel hears the dying engines of aircraft before they crash onto the surface. Pieces of the ceiling have collapsed, exposing the suffocating, smoke-filled air above. He chokes, the air supply becoming scarce in the tight space. Behind him, an artillery blast completely blows away a section of the corridor, yet the panicking soldiers keep running without a moment of hesitation. As he runs on, the number of corpses only rises, piles and piles of warm blood, flesh, bones, and armor stacked on the sides of the corridor.

Just then, he sees them, standing on top of some rubble on the newly-blown surface. The squad, all intact, bloody yet minimally injured. They are relatively composed, surprisingly so even after having stepped over the same ground he is running on. Only Tarak seems to show any sign of panic and fear, his legs shaking as he finds a seat on a piece of rubble. Around them are a small group of soldiers, huddling together and hugging their weapons, trying to regain their senses. And the strange sense of energy surrounding, protecting them… a barrier. Finally, a safe haven in this chaos.

He picks up his pace, trying to flee from the horde behind him, yet he feels his energy, so much of it used on concealing the Anapadeia, draining away from his body. I can’t go on anymore. Nauseating from the scenes of terror, he feels his legs rapidly giving way, each step more painful than the last. Finally, he falls, his arm reaching for the Anapadeia. “Help me… ” he cries, his other arm reaching towards his comrades, “Just… stop this. Whatever it… takes.”

“Stop!” a thundering voice echoes through the corridor, completely stunning the soldiers. One of them, unable to stop, trips, and finds his neck nearly resting on a knife. Looking up, he finds the face of Kavlina staring at him, her grey eyes piercing into his.

“He said stop,” she whispers softly, glaring at the demoralized soldiers before her.

“What a bunch of cowards,” Rasu scoffs as he jumps down, no hint of childlike innocence in his voice, “Is this how you fight?” The same shout vibrates in the soldiers’ ears. That voice was from Rasu?

“Let us pass,” a soldier begs, his voice trembling, “The enemy is coming for our heads!” Another barrage hits the corridor, exposing more of it to the surface.

“What is our military teaching our soldiers?” Rasu roars, “Flee from battle at the first wave?”

Shaking, the soldier raises his rifle. “Please, let us pass,” he repeats, a finger on the trigger. Several others follow him, pointing their rifles at Rasu and Kavlina.

“The punishment for desertion is… death,” Rasu stretches out his hand, and to everyone’s surprise, several small blades materialize from the air, hovering over his palm. With a gentle flick of his wrist, the blades fly away from his palm, stopping just at the necks of the soldiers. How did Rasu know how to do this?

“We’re all going to die!” the soldier protests, “The enemy is already here!” Somewhere in the distance, the storm of thousands of boots marching over rubble reach the ears of everyone. Occasionally, they hear the firing of several rifles, then a scream, before it goes quiet again.

“Either you die a deserter, or you die fighting for the New Rule,” Rasu threatens, “Which will it be?”

Silence.

“Lel, stand up,” Kavlina orders, her knife still pointed at a soldier.

Slowly, Avalel stands, his legs trembling as he rises. No longer able to conceal the Anapadeia, the sword now lays in full view of the shocked soldiers, the gem glowing in the dark corridor. Forgetting their predicament, they stare at the legendary sword, stunned and silent.

“Why is it…” a soldier manages to utter, “How are you not surprised?”

“Should we?” Rasu replies, “As members of this soldier’s squad, we’ve seen this sword many times already.” The Anapadeia managed to distract them for a while. Thank you, Avalel.

“Then what is he doing with this relic of the Empire?” another soldier questions, “A reminder of what it did to everyone?”

“Incoming!” someone shouts, just as they see the bright light of a sphere of energy crashing down onto their heads. Unable to even react, they could just stand, awaiting their lives being snatched away, drowning in a pot of pure heat and energy.

An explosion. The ground rumbles and the frightened soldiers drop into a fetal position, covering their heads. Large pieces of rock and dirt fly everywhere, showering, raining on the ground. The bloody corpses nearby twitch and flop like fish on the floor. Yet everyone realizes… They are alive.

Their eyes, blinded with light, could only make out a hazy silhouette kneeling on the ground, his hands gripping a sword stabbed into the cracked ground. The sword seems to emit a great aura itself, covering it and the figure in a blanket of energy. Sparks of light, like electricity, crackles around the blade, like a thundercloud almost ready to strike. As they look around, they realize a great energy barrier has been erected around them, forming a small sanctuary amongst the ruins. Compared to the chaos around them, the ground inside the barrier is almost intact, only having eight cracks imbued with energy originating from the sword. For a moment, they just look at the silhouette in awe: how beautiful.

I apologize for acting on my own, the spirit says.

No. For the first time, I have to thank you, Avalel replies, a light smile forming on his face, At least I finally protected someone. He closes his eyes in gratefulness, lifting the Anapadeia off the ground, the barrier slowly dissolving into the air.

Don’t sleep now. We have more to do.

“How… ” the soldiers widen their mouths in wonder.

“Is this enough of a reminder?” Rasu smirks, the energy blades disappearing into the air.

“This power… ” Tarak mutters, “Just how powerful is the Anapadeia?”

“All of you are given a second chance at life,” Bairuel finally says, grabbing his rifle, “Use it well.”

They hear the shouts of soldiers, the unfamiliar pattern of marching rapping the ground. The sounds of rifle shots, getting louder and louder, approaching their position.

“They’re here,” Rasu says, “Whoever wants to flee, you can drop your weapon and run. Not that you could run far, anyway.”

Unlike before, the soldiers now stand completely still, the expressions of fear and panic replaced by one of grim determination. From the unorganized mob earlier, they are again a proper fighting force, convinced by the power of the Anapadeia, forced into action by the enemy at their heels. They are still terrified, naturally, but unconsciously, every single one of them feels the narrow escape from death, a second chance given by an unknown soldier, a stranger who saved their lives. The least they can do to repay their savior is to fight alongside him.

“Good,” Rasu grins in satisfaction, “Now find a place to hide yourself. We have some Confederation soldiers to slaughter.”

Poking his head above the rubble, Rasu looks around for a target. It is not long before he sees a small group of enemy soldiers marching in a neat formation, stepping on the broken bones of some dead soldier. Carefully raising the rifle to his face, Rasu aims carefully at one of the enemy’s heads. Calmly, he pulls the trigger, and lets the beam fly.

Crack! The Confederation soldier’s head splits open, blood splattering onto his comrades’ armor. Terrified, the others turn to the direction of the beam, just in time to see Rasu slipping back underground.

“There’s an enemy troop here!” one of them shouts, “They killed Ria!” No sooner had the dead soldier collapsed onto the ground, the entire group of ten or twenty rush to the small exposure in the dark corridor. They jump down the hole, only to find an eerie darkness and silence greeting them. On the ground is a single rifle, smoke billowing out from the muzzle.

“They must’ve…”

“Fire!” In an instant, the enemy soldiers’ armor are showered with beams, piercing, scorching them. In merciless fashion, Rasu leads the squad, leaping out from their hiding spots, slashing at the weak chinks of armor in the neck. Soon, the floor is filled with a pool of blood, dead bodies dyed in red piled up in a mountain of death.

“Not bad for an improvised plan, isn't it?” Rasu chuckles, his childlike voice returning.

The soldiers stare at the corpses, stunned and surprised. “That was… easy.”

“Now, after hearing all the ruckus we made earlier, there should be more coming now,” Rasu smiles, “Which means more enemies to kill, which means more noise, which means even more enemies, which means…”

“Rasu, calm down,” Bairuel slaps Rasu’s back, stopping him.

“There’s a fight over there!” they hear an enemy soldier call, “There are still some enemies remaining!”

“Get back in your positions, everyone,” Rasu commands, “Prepare to get your hands dirty again.”

Just like the first group, the second group jumps down the hole. Immediately they are impaled with pikes, not knowing even what’s going on before they are killed. Then the third. The fourth. Eventually, the entire corridor is filled with corpses, stinking of corpses.

“Isn’t this enough?” a soldier finally asks.

“It will be enough when we kill every enemy in this area,” Rasu answers calmly.

Yet for a while, there are no more groups of enemy soldiers marching to their slaughter. In fact, the relative quietness is strange, almost unsettling.

“Why haven't they begun attacking us?” Rasu wonders, walking back and forth in worry, “They wouldn't think of starving us out, would they?” It won't make sense for them to do so.

“Surrender, enemies cowering in their ugly hideout,” a voice booms through loudspeakers, “You are surrounded. It's over. The battle is lost.”

“What?” they all exclaim in worry. Suddenly, their makeshift “stronghold” is no longer a safe shelter, but a prison. They are simply trapped amongst the piles of rubble, away from any form of help.

Nervous, a soldier climbs up to the surface to take a peek of the situation. As soon as his head pokes out, he falls back, a single smoldering hole in his skull.

“Stay in your hole,” the voice orders.

“What now?” a soldier asks, her limbs wavering.

“I think we need to retreat,” Bairuel says.

“We have no idea how many enemies are outside,” Rasu states, “A direct breakthrough would cause too many deaths.”

“Can’t we use the corridor to reach some other place where we can leave?” another soldier points out.

“There’s too much damage. I don't think we can get far.”

“I have an idea,” Tarak suggests, “It’ll hinge on the strength of one person, but we might just be able to get out alive. It's quite simple, really. We just need to… ”

“Where’s Lel?” Kavlina interrupts.

They look around, and to their shock, they find Avalel climbing up to the surface, the Anapadeia raised high.

“What are you doing?” Kavlina shouts.

“I don't want to run away any more,” Avalel replies, taking off his helmet, “Let me do my part.”

“But…”

“Tarak, this is your plan, correct?”

Tarak nods lightly, looking at his friend with pride.

You will let me take over, won't you? the spirit asks.

For this time only, yes.

Even if it involves the killing of many by your own hands?

Avalel takes a deep breath. Yes. If you must.

He raises his head above the surface, just as a ring of rifles fire, a hail of beams rushing faster than the sound of the crackle at ignition.

Let's go.