Kavlina looks in awe at her comrades, even as she leaps about, her knife effortlessly slicing through the chinks of armor of the enemy. Tarak with his blinding movements, Rasu materializing blades from nowhere, even the soldiers she has just met bravely charging against the enemy… Is this the snapping of instincts, driven by a will to survive?

An energy blade whizzes past her face, cutting through an enemy pike before it explodes, blowing apart his arms, and he falls back, writhing and screaming in agony. Turning around, Kavlina sees Bairuel, a calm but confident smile hidden behind his helmet.

“Focus, Kav,” he says quickly before diving back into the fray, three more blades materializing behind him.

Bairuel… he’s always been sort of a mystery. During their short time together in Squad Rasu, he was not particularly skilled, nor did he possess any outstanding leadership qualities, yet Rasu seemed to trust him completely. His quietness is similar to hers, yet it gives off no sense of intimidation or presence, like a shadow hiding behind the figure of a person. There was absolutely no sign of his identity or prowess… until now.

His graceful movements, the rapid formation and materialization of energy in the form of weapons, the efficient and almost silent killing of the enemy… just like an assassin. The materialization of energy itself is already extremely rare, being of the strange force they call “magic”, yet here she is, witnessing two of her comrades who had not only learned it, but mastered it?

Her mind flocks back to years ago, when she was still in her childhood. She remembers hearing about a notorious team of three mercenaries while eavesdropping on her father and his colleague, known then as “The Triplets”. Apparently they were highly efficient assassins, able to kill even when unarmed. They were also apparently very intelligent and cunning, able to disguise themselves as ordinary citizens and hiding their killing intent until the last moment. Her father had dismissed such a team as myths back then, but now, she wonders… if they are real, living persons, fighting before her eyes. Well, she’ll ponder about that some other time.

For some reason, she is not fatigued. Slashing and stabbing her way through, she feels the wavering resolve in the enemy, slowly overcome with fear. They are like an endless horde, yet for some reason, she feels as if she is the one grasping at victory, not them. Every helmet reminds her of those cruel, ruthless murderers who killed her mother. Every drop of warm blood that falls on her armor, she feels a sense of gratification, pleasure even, as she watches them fall, one by one, to the girl they had almost driven to starvation four years ago. Dropping her dulled knife, she picks up a fallen soldier’s pike, and resumes her massacre again. All of those frustrations, those feelings of pure anger and hatred, she could finally pour out.

She realizes this is her first time killing en masse, but that is no matter. These pawns, slaves of that leader of the Confederation, had wanted to kill her and Avalel, and had killed Old Man Faresoenn. It is only natural that they repay in full, and more. There is no remorse. Unlike those three figures, the three who had driven Avalel to a moment of insanity, these enemy soldiers have no face. To her, they are nothing more than training dummies, designed to be broken, be beaten, be destroyed.

“Stop,” Tarak snaps her out of her trance, forcefully grabbing her wrist, “They’re dead.” As she calms down, she sees before her a graveyard of exposed corpses, the stench of the mangled flesh reaching her nose despite her helmet protecting her.

“The path to the headquarters should be clear now,” Bairuel speaks, breathing heavily, his arms trembling, “The remaining survivors should’ve fled after seeing so many of their comrades die in so short of a time.”

“You worked yourself a bit too much, didn’t you there, Bairuel?” Rasu chuckles, “It should be a while since you tired yourself to this point.”

“Not since that day, no.”

“Well,” Rasu turns away from Bairuel, “How many do we have left, Kav?”

Although there still seems to be a large crowd, more or less organizing themselves into rows, Kavlina notices it is considerably smaller than before. Shouldn’t there be around several hundred at least? Yet now, from a quick glance, she guesses there are only around a hundred, perhaps a little more, left.

“Not many,” she reports, “Perhaps one hundred, at most one hundred and fifty.”

“Thank you,” Rasu nods, albeit slightly disappointed, “That should be enough. Now, let’s head…”

“Are you…” a soldier, leading a small team of five others, approaches Rasu, taking off their helmets before saluting, “General Rasu?”

General Rasu?

“And who might you be?” Rasu, too, takes off his helmet, revealing a sweating, but smiling face, like the Elyfesta beaming upon the ruined world. Even in the chaos and blood, Kavlina feels a sense of warmth, one of comradery and loyalty.

“General… you are alive!” They cheer, embracing each other, ignoring all dignity as tears run down their eyes. Rasu simply chuckles in happiness, looking at Bairuel, who simply shrugs his shoulders in apparent indifference.

“Sorry,” the lead soldier apologizes after their emotions had subsided, “We didn’t introduce ourselves yet. You probably don’t recognize us, but we were once serving as soldiers under your division.”

“My division…” Rasu stares into the air, his childish expressions returning for a moment, “That was a long time ago, wasn’t it?”

“Absolutely not!” The six soldiers cry in unison.

“We are just so glad you are here again, leading us in the battle,” the lead soldier speaks again, “I… I can’t describe our excitement when we saw your mesmerizing display of power against the enemy. It’s just been so long… we truly missed your presence, General.”

“I assume you have used the techniques I taught well?”

“Of course. Those weapon strengthening techniques are what kept us alive till now. We are very thankful you taught every single one of us back then.”

Every single one of them? Kavlina stares in surprise at Rasu, Which means… They, too, know magic?

“Well, there is still much for you to learn,” Rasu grins, noticing Kavlina, “Now, shall we move on?”

“We’re sorry for using up everyone’s precious time,” the soldier finally says as they shrink back into the group.

“It’s alright,” Rasu shrugs, “We just need to quicken our pace even more.”

They march, the previous fear and anxiousness now fading, replaced with a new sense of courage and determination, as if they are conquerors heading to victory. Around them, the ruins serve as places of concealment and hiding, offering them shelter as enemy aircraft fly past, searching for any stragglers. Sometimes, they would encounter a small group of fellow comrades, who gladly joined them, swelling their numbers.

However, as they went on, they slowly realize the full scope of the disaster, the utter defeat that the New Rule now faces. Except for the weapons and limited supply of food on their backs, there is nothing of value to be salvaged save for a few pieces of still intact, unblemished metal. Littered armor pieces lay everywhere, burnt and cracked. Even their energy-absorbing design is not enough to protect them from the devastating explosions. Occasionally they can hear faint cries of help, but painfully, they ignore those screams, their sights set on the single intact building in front of them: the headquarters.

“Rasu,” Tarak asks, approaching Rasu as he leads the group, “Why did they call you by the title of ‘General’? Aren’t you only twenty four years of age?”

“Ah, Tarak,” Rasu replies, a hint of sadness in his voice, “I assume they wiped me off their records.”

“What?”

“Nothing of much importance. I just keep my eyes ahead, after all.” Always.

Kavlina stares cautiously at Rasu as they make their way in the ruins of the defenses. He had always been the cheerful one, leading the squad in wave after wave of optimism and playfulness. However, since the voidal strike, there seems to be something with him that changed, like another side of this boy-like squad leader. The materialization of blades, so rare in the world, was used flawlessly, as if there were two people, his motions fluid and without hesitation… Why hadn’t he shown this skill earlier? The seriousness and determination, completely unlike the carefree face he showed before, is not only surprising, but frightening. Perhaps… There is much more to the eye than the friendly, childish Rasu that she usually sees.

“Bairuel,” Rasu calls, beckoning for his close friend to come over, “You’ve done very well back there against the enemy. I would’ve strained myself to the limit had you not revealed your power.”

“It’s been so long since I used the technique,” Bairuel gasps, “I hope I don’t have to exert myself as much again.”

“You’re extremely talented,” Rasu compliments, “Why are you willing to be under my shadow, to the point that no one recognized you had also used the same technique as me?”

“I had promised to be your support, didn’t I?”

“You didn’t have to follow such a childish promise from years ago!” Rasu laughs.

“So says the one who almost always behaved like a child,” Bairuel slaps Rasu’s shoulder playfully, forgetting for a moment that they are at war. For a moment, they are like brothers, supporting each other through the harsh war.

Bang!

A shot. As Rasu looks in horror, Bairuel collapses onto the ground, his stomach pierced by a single shot, his eyes bulging in pain. Time seems to slow as he reaches out his arms, catching his fallen comrade and friend. He turns his face to the direction of the shot, only to find a blink of light from a rifle, a shot firing at his head.

Rasu jerks his head back, the shot barely grazing his left eye, droplets of blood flying in all directions. Even as he gasps in pain, he repels the instinct to cover his eye, instead holding Bairuel tightly in his arms, the blood from his stomach wound now soaking their uniforms and staining their armor.

“Rasu!” Tarak shouts, just as a company of soldiers emerge, surrounding them, cutting off their path to the headquarters. Among them are some with damaged armor, only holding knives instead of their standard-issue rifles or pikes. Their bodies are trembling, yet Kavlina could sense the hatred boiling in every one of them.

“You devils of the New Rule,” the enemy soldiers chant, “Killing our respected commander.” They repeat their chant, like a ghostly choir haunting the battlefield. Although their number is smaller, their chant is like the booming voice of thunder, so fearful, echoing all around them. Slowly, they tighten their encirclement, driving Kavlina and the others closer to each other, until they form a ring, facing the enemy as Rasu kneels inside, clutching Bairuel’s rapidly weakening body.

When will this war end?

A drop of blood splashes onto Bairuel’s cheek. Not tears. Blood. Above Rasu’s head, hundreds of tiny blades appear in the air, like rain frozen at a moment in time. The enemy abruptly stops their chanting, struggling to not lift their heads as they keep their weapons steady. Finally, a soldier raises his fist, suddenly clenching it tightly.

“Die!” They scream.

“Die,” Rasu whispers, wiping the blood off Bairuel’s cheek.

Avalel rushes toward the direction of a building in the distance. Judging from its strong walls and imposing structure, he guesses it is the headquarters of their military, somehow the only intact building left in the entire battlefield. His vision is fuzzy, his mind fainting, yet he keeps running. His comrades must also be heading towards it, aren’t they? He sighs. They had forgotten to organize where to rendezvous earlier… That must’ve caused them much trouble too.

As luck would have it, an enemy artillery barrage would be what saved him from inevitable capture. He is out of strength, anyways. The barriers ended up being too tiring to even maintain for over a few moments. Perhaps he can catch a short while of rest while at the headquarters, at least until the hordes of enemies arrive, likely eventually overrunning them.

When will this war end?

He laughs bitterly at the thought. Perhaps it’ll end soon, just not in their favor. After months of fleeing from Nasition, he’ll just end up dead at his feet. Just as how Stasibel and Faresoenn died to his cruelty, so too will Avalel himself be eliminated from this world. He never truly understood why he was being hunted, even after the overwhelming revelation. Maybe one day I’ll ask Nasition, or even Stasibel myself. He laughs again.

Dragging the Anapadeia with him, he looks up at the sky, pitch black save for a few stars, their light piercing through the thick smoke to illuminate the ground. Although the air is still quite cold, the winter climate still stubbornly clinging on, he feels it as comforting, even as his ears redden from the cold. The headquarters are just ahead of him now, growing larger and larger in front of him. He hears the humming of armored vehicles, but fortunately, he doesn’t spot any in his proximity. The enemy must also be quite close, then.

Hurry, the spirit warns.

What? Am I not running fast enough?

Something has already happened. I can’t quite make out what it is, but hurry.

Hurry where?

Southeast of the headquarters. Allow me to take over if you are too tired to go any faster.

Avalel closes his eyes, relaxing his body. If you insist.

Rasu opens his one good eye, grabbing a few bandages from Tari, wrapping it around Bairuel’s waist but leaving his injured left eye exposed, even though it is still bleeding. Without uttering a word, he carries Bairuel, by this time unconscious, upon his back. Nervously, the soldiers follow behind him, silent, picking up the enemy’s weapons to replace their damaged ones.

His boots squelch as he walks on the corpses of the enemy, driving it deep into their flesh. Thin pillars of smoke rise up around him as the energy disperses back into the air, leaving behind countless holes in the enemy soldiers, their faces unrecognizable and ruined. The humid stench of death fills the atmosphere, yet Rasu calmly walks past, ignoring the mass of dead bodies around him, just a moment ago able-bodied, fighting persons.

“I just keep my eyes ahead, after all,” he mutters, making his way to the entrance of the headquarters.