Chapter 17: Battlefield
The small unit pressed forward through the tangled underbrush of the dense, towering redwood-like forest, the air thick with the scent of wet earth and moss. Shadows danced among the ancient trees as beams of sunlight filtered through the dense canopy overhead. It didn't take long for the untamed wilderness to reveal its dangers to the Corps for daring to intrude upon its territory. Corporal Denson, a young grunt with wide eyes and nervous energy, learned this lesson the hard way.
As he attempted to steady his aim on a peculiar creature—a strange, squat being that stood roughly two feet at the shoulder, adorned with a spiraled horn jutting from its forehead—Denson leaned back against the rough, gnarled bark of a massive tree. Instead of securing a clean shot, he felt the unforgiving wood snag the fabric of his uniform, a sharp burn as the material tore away and released the precious air trapped in his helmet. Panic flickered in his chest, but it was quickly quelled by the knowledge that they were protected from potential airborne pathogens in this alien world.
The rest of the unit exchanged worried glances beneath their sturdy helmets, designed to shield them from the unknown dangers lurking in the atmosphere. Sensing the growing tension, Joseph—seemingly the anchor of the group—called out with a steady voice, urging his comrades to remove their protective gear. "Take off the helms!" he commanded, his confidence breaking through the chaos, "We need a clearer field of vision." One by one, they obeyed, their helmets clattering to the forest floor, revealing the determination etched on their faces as they prepared to face whatever threats lay ahead in the wild, uncharted realm.
The dark, one-horned creature had darted away from the yelping of Denson and scurried away deeper into the underbrush. Making small noises as it went. The only reason that Denson had wanted to bring down the small creature was for his personal trophy collection of random bits of alien species that he had apparently come across during his many sorties.
The dark, one-horned creature darted away, its slender frame twisting through the dense underbrush as it disappeared from sight, leaving behind a trail of soft rustles and faint lulls. Denson's heart raced with disappointment; he had only intended to capture the elusive being for his peculiar trophy collection, a haphazard assortment of alien specimens he’d amassed during his countless expeditions across various planets.
“Damn it, Denson! We can't be sure if those creatures can communicate with each other,” Joseph shot back, his voice a mix of irritation and concern. He was slightly agitated by Denson’s reckless ambitions. With a practiced motion, he lowered his magi-tek gun, the sleek weapon humming softly as he flipped the safety back on. Sunlight filtered through the towering alien flora, casting long shadows that danced around them.
“Come on, you louts… we need to find a more open area before the sun sets,” he urged, glancing upwards. The sky, painted in hues of vibrant orange and deep purple, hinted at the impending twilight. Joseph had observed that the days on this strange planet stretched an exhausting forty-eight hours, leaving them with less time than he’d hoped. The lengthy selection process and the necessary preparations for the unique environmental challenges had consumed precious daylight, and now, time was slipping away like grains of sand through his fingers.
As they stepped into the dense, shadowed embrace of the forest, the air grew thick with the scent of damp earth and decay. In a small clearing, barely touched by the dappled sunlight that filtered through the tangled canopy, they spotted the remains of a furred beast. What little was left of it was unrecognizable—its form reduced to scattered tufts of matted fur and jagged, picked-clean bones. The scavengers had already feasted, stripping away flesh and sinew, leaving only remnants of their frenzy behind. Now, a writhing mass of insects crawled through the hollows of the carcass, their tiny legs skittering over the exposed ribcage, burrowing deep into the remnants of what had once been a living creature. The sight was grim, but they spared it no more than a passing glance. Their focus lay elsewhere, drawn to the faint traces of something far more important—a trail they could not afford to lose.
Harrow, the skilled tracker and another member of the Kul’human, studied the shoe imprints carefully, noting the distinct checkmark embedded in their patterns. As he traced the markings with his finger, he suddenly became aware of a different set of tracks that seemed to pursue the original target. Intrigued, he shared his findings with Joseph, hoping that whatever had taken up the chase had succeeded in capturing the prey, much like it had done with the beast that had been killed in the clearing.
Together, they examined the massive paw prints that punctuated the forest floor, each print revealing a formidable set of nearly two-inch talons that spoke of a creature both powerful and predatory. Joseph simply nodded in acknowledgment, his expression serious, as they made their way deeper into the woods, following the intertwined paths of their quarry and the mysterious beast that hunted it. The dense canopy overhead filtered the sunlight, casting dappled shadows on the ground as they pressed on, each crackle of twigs underfoot heightening their sense of urgency.
One of the other grunts raised his hand, signaling for the squad to halt and remain on high alert. Instantly, the team dropped to one knee, their movements fluid and practiced. Each soldier hoisted their magi-tek rifles to their shoulders, the metallic click of safety switches being disengaged punctuating the tense air. A low, ominous hum emanated from the rifles, a sound that always seemed to vibrate with latent energy.
They strained to listen, every fiber of their being tuned to the surrounding wilderness, anxious to discern the source of the grunt’s sudden suspicion. The underbrush crackled ominously, and the air thickened with anticipation. Just as Joseph was about to voice a question, a sudden commotion erupted from the dense foliage.
Emerging from the shadows was a small creature, barely two feet tall, its body adorned with a wicked-looking spiraled horn and a disheveled black coat. Its eyes glimmered with a feral intensity, wild and calculating, as it darted into view. In an instant, the members of the Eradication Squad pivoted, weapons aimed at the flickering shadow. The creature, however, was quick, disappearing behind the solid trunk of a nearby tree, leaving the squad poised for action, muscles tensed and ready to respond.
That’s when all hell broke loose. He heard a scream to his rear and turned his attention to the sound. His squad, made of twenty soldiers and two magi-tek officers, was quickly reduced to nineteen soldiers. One of the grunts had two horns sticking through his chest. Two of the creatures had attacked his back when the other one had misguided the squad in looking the wrong way. The look of surprise on the Dragkin was one of shock and pain, coughing up blood, the creatures pulled their one-foot-long horns out of the man and quickly retreated back behind a thick redwood.
Joseph erupted in a fierce curse, his voice cutting through the tension, “It’s a pack type!” The words reverberated off the shadows that loomed around them as his squad sprang into action, instinctively covering their flanks. Each soldier positioned himself with precision, forming an unyielding circle, their breaths shallow and steady as they braced for the unknown.
“Be Vigilant, Be Brave!” Joseph shouted, sharing one of the Corps' mottos—a rallying cry that echoed in the hearts of his men. The mantra hung in the air, a lifeline of encouragement during this perilous moment. He observed the faces of his squad, some brightening with a flicker of renewed determination, their eyes reflecting the fervor of a soldier deeply embedded in the System. It may not have fueled Joseph’s own resolve, but to those who had devoted their lives to this path, it ignited a flicker of confidence in the face of impending danger.
The late-day sun cast golden rays through the tangled canopy, its light flickering off the metallic edges of their rifles as the squad fought for their lives. Blue flashes of energy erupted with each trigger pull, the metallic mana-infused rounds tearing through the relentless swarm of creatures. What they had first mistaken for a pack was something far worse—an entire colony. A chittering, writhing mass of fur and fangs that refused to scatter, driven by some primal instinct to defend their den… or whatever these things called home.
The squad instinctively closed ranks, stepping back into a tighter formation as the situation grew dire. Reports crackled through their comms—ammo reserves were dwindling. By the time some of them reached the halfway mark, Joseph knew a decision had to be made.
"Mixed weapons!" he bellowed, his voice cutting through the chaos.
That single order sent a ripple through the squad. Rifles slung over shoulders, hands reaching for the weapons forged from Magi-Tek devices—blades that shimmered with latent energy, axes humming with raw power. These weapons were their last line of defense, designed to be wielded when ranged firepower failed. But unlike the rifles, they didn’t draw from the surrounding mana. They required something far more personal.
Personal core energy.
The soldiers had been trained for this, taught how to wield their weapons with precision, how to channel what they believed was their own stored mana. They had never questioned it. But Joseph and Quil knew the truth. It wasn’t mana at all.
It was their own soul energy.
The very essence of their being, siphoned away in battle. It would replenish over time, but the cost was undeniable. Each swing of a blade, each arc of an axe, burned away a sliver of their existence. They had never been told the full truth—only that this was the way of things.
And now, as the creatures pressed in, the squad had no choice but to wield the very force that slowly consumed them.
A lone, one-horned beast lurked at the edge of the tree line, its keen eyes fixed on the strange intruders that had dared to trespass into its domain. It had watched them much like the smaller, tree-climbing creatures had—silent, calculating, and growing ever more irritated by their presence. This was no ordinary scout or mindless predator. It was one of the eldest of its kind, a leader among its species, its thick fur streaked with the scars of countless battles.
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With a sharp, guttural yelp, it barked out a command.
The change was immediate. The tide of creatures that had been hounding the squad with cautious strikes suddenly surged forward, their hesitation erased in an instant. It was as if the very forest had come alive, the undergrowth writhing with a blur of black-furred bodies and glinting horns.
Joseph hadn’t seen the one-horned leader watching from the shadows. If he had, he would have put a mana bullet right between its eyes without hesitation.
But what he did see made his blood run cold.
The once-relentless but manageable attacks turned into an outright frenzy. The creatures no longer struck in probing waves—they charged, howling and snarling, their movements a blur of muscle and malice. The treeline, once a tangled wall of dark greens and browns, became a roiling mass of shadowy fur and gleaming horns, surging toward them in numbers that seemed impossible.
Joseph’s breath hitched. His hands clenched tighter around his weapon.
This wasn’t just a pack.
This was an horde.
“Bastion!!!”
Joseph’s voice boomed over the battlefield, amplified by the very ambient mana swirling in the air. The soldiers responded instantly, each gripping a small device at their waist and snapping it forward. With a synchronized hum, the Magi-Tek barriers flared to life, translucent blue domes interlocking to form a protective circle around them. Unlike the drop pod’s passive shield, which continuously siphoned mana to sustain itself, this one was built for temporary resilience—just enough to buy them time.
The horde crashed against the shimmering barriers with bone-rattling force. Black-furred bodies slammed into the glowing shields, their curved horns scraping against the energy field, sending ripples of strain across its surface. The Kul soldiers huddled closer, weapons raised, as cracks spiderwebbed through the barriers, splintering into floating motes of dying light. Joseph knew they were running out of time.
But he only needed a little.
Standing at the center of the formation, he reached into his pack and pulled out a glassy sphere, its surface reflecting the frantic chaos around him. Closing his eyes for a split second, he inhaled deeply, pulling on the latent mana thick in the air. The sphere began to glow, first faintly, then with a pulsing intensity as he channeled fire-aligned mana into it. The clear glass darkened, shifting into a deep crimson, flickering with violent energy. Joseph’s lips curled into a sharp grin.
It was ready.
The first fracture splintered across the shield, a jagged crack of failing energy. The creatures sensed the weakening defense, their frenzied attacks redoubling.
Joseph didn’t wait.
“PURGATORY!” he roared, his arm snapping forward as he hurled the overloaded Magi-Tek grenade over the barrier and into the densest cluster of one-horns.
The small, glowing sphere cut through the air in a smooth arc, bouncing once against the hard-packed earth. The creatures hesitated, their instincts screaming at them to beware. A brief, tense second passed.
Then the world ignited.
A brilliant explosion of fire and force erupted outward, engulfing the battlefield in a violent storm of reddish-orange flames. The blast wave tore through the front lines of the one-horns, incinerating those caught within its deadly radius. Creatures outside the immediate inferno were hurled backward, their bodies tumbling through the air as the shockwave rippled through the woods, snapping branches and scorching the earth. The fire burned unnaturally bright, feeding off the very mana Joseph had infused within the grenade.
A ripple of fear coursed through the remaining creatures. The one-horns, so relentless only moments before, now recoiled, their instincts screaming in terror. The fire—the sheer, raw destruction—triggered something primal within them. It wasn’t just the flames that scared them, but what the fire represented. It was a force they knew, one that prowled the night within these uncharted lands.
Without hesitation, the surviving one-horns turned and fled, disappearing into the undergrowth like shadows dispersing before the dawn.
Silence settled over the battlefield, save for the crackling embers of the scorched earth.
Joseph exhaled sharply, surveying the aftermath before issuing the next command.
“Hold positions. Maintain vigilance until we confirm the area is clear.”
He checked the status feed on his wrist, his expression darkening as the numbers rolled in.
“Four dead… two wounded… one missing,” he murmured.
The weight of those losses settled heavily on his shoulders. His eyes flicked over the names of the fallen Kul soldiers, committing them to memory. Quil was still alive. Denton too. The tracker remained unscathed. The mission wasn’t over.
With a heavy sigh, he marked the location of the fallen on the map for potential retrieval. But deep down, he knew the truth—by the time they returned, there would likely be nothing left to recover. Such was the nature of an uncharted world.
He steeled himself, pushing the grief aside. There was no time to dwell.
“Let’s move,” he called out, his voice steady despite the exhaustion creeping into his bones. “There should be a clearing ahead.”
The squad quickly reformed, stripping any salvageable tech from their fallen before falling into a defensive formation. Their movements were sharp, disciplined, efficient. There was no room for hesitation in a place like this.
With weapons raised and eyes scanning the darkened tree line, they pressed forward, disappearing into the unknown.
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What the hell is that?
Elaine squinted at the fiery streak cutting through the sky, her breath catching as she watched its rapid descent. It wasn't just falling—it was slowing down. Flames shot from its underside in a controlled burn, stabilizing its approach like something out of an old documentary about space capsules re-entering the atmosphere.
“I don’t know,” Sera responded tentatively, her voice uncharacteristically meek. She knew she had upset her human, and the last thing she wanted was to make things worse. “I… I’m really sorry for my actions in the soul space.” The remorse in her voice was genuine, but Elaine wasn’t sure what to do with it.
Elaine’s grip on her emotions wavered. How was she supposed to feel about Seraphion now? Sera had never hurt her before, not really, but the raw, unbridled wrath she had felt in that moment—Elaine still didn’t know how to process it. It was unlike anything she had ever experienced, something far beyond human understanding. A primordial rage wrapped in celestial power. She was terrified of Sera, but more than that, she was afraid of the depth of what she had glimpsed.
Look… I’ll be okay, eventually. She projected the thought toward Seraphion, her mental voice laced with uncertainty. Knowing what you are… knowing that all those souls on Earth are trapped inside you and Zee, that’s something I need to wrestle with myself. She hesitated, tracking the mysterious falling object as it flickered blue before vanishing beyond the treetops. I guess it’s better that way, though. Instead of being lost forever, at least they still… exist. Maybe that means humanity isn’t truly dead.
Zeraphine, standing in the real world beside Elaine, couldn’t hear the mental exchange, but she caught enough of Seraphion’s replies to understand what was happening. A small smile tugged at her lips. They’re making up. That’s good.
But she had more immediate concerns.
Her eyes flicked toward the alien before her, and her expression shifted into something far less friendly.
“Sooo, Xin-ta,” Zee purred, her voice edged with amusement and veiled menace. “Are you going to be a good girl and leave my human alone?” She flashed a small, sinister smile, her back turned slightly to Elaine as she casually leaned in. “See, I really like my human. And considering she’s one of five left in the whole universe, I’d say that makes her quite the rarity.”
Xin-ta barely concealed her discomfort.
She had no idea what to do.
She had faced countless dangers in the wild, had encountered beasts that could tear a warrior in half, but nothing compared to standing before this… thing. The winged one radiated an aura of power unlike anything Xin-ta had ever encountered. And if her instincts were right, this entity was on par with—or perhaps even beyond—the Guardian of the Woods, Zephorion.
She cleared her throat, forcing her voice to remain steady.
“I am Xin-ta of the Tal-Tal, a Seeker of the Lost,” she declared, standing taller, forcing pride into her posture. The title gave her strength, even in the face of something far beyond her comprehension. “I promise, on the wrath of the Guardian Zephorion, that I will not engage your charge with any hostile intent.”
She moved swiftly, pulling out her flint dagger in a practiced motion. In one fluid motion, she dragged the blade across her right forearm, a shallow but deliberate cut, before flipping the dagger and presenting it hilt-first to Zeraphine.
Elaine gasped. “What the hell, Xin!” She scrambled forward, instinctively tearing another strip from her already ruined hoodie to press against the bleeding wound. But as she did, her eyes caught something else—something that sent a wave of realization crashing through her.
She had been patched up.
Bandages wrapped snugly around her left side. Someone—Xin-ta? Zee?—had tended to her wounds while she had been oblivious.
Good God… how am I so out of it?
Zee, however, merely held up a hand, stopping Elaine from interfering further.
“Give me a moment, human,” she said with a bemused smirk, taking the offered hilt with an air of regal amusement. The moment her fingers closed around it, her power pulsed through the primitive weapon.
The rough, crude flint began to change.
“Watch this, Xin-ta, and revel in my magnificence,” Zee said, her voice practically dripping with self-satisfaction.
The blade shimmered as its coarse surface smoothed, shifting from a brittle flint to a near-crystalline obsidian. The jagged edges refined themselves to an impossibly sharp, near-molecular precision—capable of slicing through steel and flesh alike with terrifying ease. Yet, it retained the signature shape of the original flint knife, an echo of what it once was, now perfected beyond the realm of possibility.
The hilt, once crude animal bone, transformed beneath her fingers. It rippled, reshaping to fit Xin-ta’s grip perfectly, contoured for an unparalleled hold. It was no longer just a weapon—it was an extension of Xin-ta herself.
With a flick of her wrist, Zee dragged the newly forged blade across her own perfect skin. A thin line of crimson welled up before vanishing almost instantly as her body absorbed the lost energy.
She handed the transformed weapon back to Xin-ta with a flourish.
The alien woman looked as if she were about to pass out.
“Zee to Xin-ta… Hello?” Zee waved a hand in front of her face, snapping the stunned warrior out of her trance. “So, we both cut ourselves. What now?” she asked playfully, ignoring the deepening concern on Elaine’s face. A droplet of blood nearly splashed onto her toe, and she sighed dramatically.
Xin-ta blinked rapidly, her mind struggling to keep up with what had just transpired. Slowly, she extended her arm once more.
“This one is sorry. I, Xin-ta, swear.”
A pulse of energy stirred around her. The ambient mana in the air thickened, drawn toward the ritual as her veins began to glow faintly.
Elaine’s brain clicked into motion.
That’s not just a promise—that’s a binding magical contract.
Zee, however, had no training in magic. Neither did Sera. They knew how to channel their inherent gifts, how to bend reality through sheer force of will, but the intricate mechanisms of structured magic? That was beyond them.
So when Zee reached out and clasped Xin-ta’s forearm, she was entirely unprepared for what happened next.
Their blood reacted.
Twin streams of crimson rose from their wounds, twisting through the air before wrapping around their forearms, forming a band of red. If they clasped hands again, the circle would be completed. Without it, it remained an unfinished oath.
Zee’s eyes widened in irritation.
“Fuck me… it’s a god-damn blood bond.” She exhaled sharply, rubbing her temples as realization sank in. “At least it’s completely one-sided.”
With a grunt, she yanked her arm back and unceremoniously shoved the newly perfected knife into Xin-ta’s hands.
Elaine just stared.
What the hell just happened?