Butcher of Bleeding Faithful 5

Authors Note:

This chapter took a lot out of me, I've been very busy the last week so it's not quite as long as I was aiming for. The story is now on Royal Road. For those wondering, I posted on SB first. I hope you all enjoy the chapter.

[ I ]

As the sun began to set on Orario, many adventurers congregated towards pubs and bars, looking to relax after another hard and treacherous day in the Dungeon. Near the city centre, on a small plot of land laid the home of Loki Familia.

Twilight Manor was filled with the sounds of adventurers chatting together, packing away equipment and preparing for the celebrations.

Many of the adventurers who had gone on the expedition were happily telling stories of what challenges they had faced to those who had stayed behind.

In a small room near the back of the massive Familia home was a strange sight. A man with dark hair highlighted by seemingly unnatural streaks of silver sat on a simple bed, wearing clothes not unlike his fellows. His dark eyes however reflected a sight not seen anywhere else on the entire planet.

A seamless handle made of dark black metal held up a panel of a transparent glass like material. Upon that simple pane, blue lights flickered showing images and text. The man’s thumb swiped down, and the text and imagery moved in response, as if it was a physical object, and not merely light emitted by the object.

Six was spending the last few minutes before the celebrations going through some files on his datapad.

When he had scavenged for supplies in the UNSC outpost before ending up in the world of Gekai, he had downloaded some files from the fallen Spartans to his suit.

Reading through the messages and data they had been transmitting told a sad and painful tale.

The Spartans had been trying to regroup, with plans of boarding a Covenant ship to escape Reach. Instead their transmissions had been intercepted by the Covenant, and they had been slowly ground down by endless waves of Covenant warriors until they were too exhausted to fight.

They had died knowing nobody would come to save them, with no hope for escape or survival.

His hand reached into his pocket and pulled out several dog tags as he placed the datapad aside, and picked up his canteen for a gulp of water. He swallowed, studying the names and numbers on the slips of metal. He normally wouldn't let himself waste time reminiscing, but he needed a least a bit of time to process... well pretty much everything that had happened.

Reach had been an ordeal, even for him.

First they had lost Jorge. The oldest and most experienced among them. The man was a gentle giant and a social genius, able to reassure even the most panicked of civilians with ease. He had died thinking he had saved Reach by sacrificing himself.

In a way, Six envied him. While Six had escaped Reach, he had no way of returning, no way of doing anything to help.

Then they had lost Kat. Their technician, and someone he had known since he was five years old. A fellow member of Beta Company... Most of their number had died in Operation Tornado, and now he wasn't sure if anyone was left.

The memory drove a pang of pain through his heart. In a way, Beta Company had been his family, and now he might be the only one left. Perhaps even the only Spartan, Commander Kurt had almost certainly returned to the field by this point.

It sunk in then that he was truly alone, on an alien world.

Gekai, Orario... It was so different from anything he had ever seen before. The people were strange, the culture was bizarre, and the technology was basic and very different from what he was familiar with.

Loki Familia was friendly, and surprisingly professional, but they weren't Spartans. They weren't fellow members of the UNSC.

How could he possibly relate to them?

He sighed, ruffling his hair a bit. Then he looked at the dog tags once more.

Jun... might be still alive. He was good at getting out of dangerous situations, but Reach was a deathtrap at this point. He hoped the man would find a way somehow. They needed more people like Doctor Halsey to win this war. With Reach gone, there was nothing but tepid resistance between the Covenant and Earth.

Carter, he'd gone down like any Captain, down with the ship. He was a good man and a great leader. He was a tactical genius, even for a Spartan, and had taught Six a lot in the last three weeks.

Emile... He flicked the dead man's dog tags slightly. Emile was the scariest man he'd ever known. He had reflexes and skills in close combat that easily rivalled, if not surpassed, his own. He was a genuine master of psychological warfare, and could send even Elites backing up in fear. Yet, he got the sense there was more to the man than that.

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

After New Alexandria, he just hadn't been the same. Both him and Jun had cracked less jokes and been more serious than before.

He knew that every Spartan coped with war differently. Spartans were trained damn well, but they weren't invincible and they could still break. Maybe for the man it was just his way of coping. His way of becoming a weapon that could strike fear into even the Covenant.

Noble Team had been some of the best Spartans alive.

And now, there was just one member left.

It was bitterly ironic in a way, that Noble Team had lost their last Six, and now he had lost all of them.

As the room darkened with the setting sun, enjoyed the peaceful view of the clear sky for a few moments.

Then he laid back on the bed and dangled Kats dog tag above him.

Memories from boot camp surged to his mind. Their struggles in the early years, how several trainees had thrived and succeeded to such a degree they'd been put on the CATEGORY 2 Spartan III program, including himself and Kat.

A pleasant tingle suddenly ran down his spine. It was unfamiliar, yet for some reason it brought a sense of comfort. Then unbidden, an odd memory of the past rose to his mind. A training mission, where he, Kat, Adam, Sev, as well as Lucy and Tom had been camping overnight after hours of trekking through a forest.

[ I ]

The trainees huddled for warmth together in their sleeping bags.

They'd make a fire, but as part of the training, they were to avoid detection. The smoke would see them fail, and none of them wanted to be chewed out by Mendez for such a basic mistake.

The stars above glittered like jewels, untouched by light pollution, the view was breath taking.

Lucy spoke up, "Do you think that the Covenant are invading one of those worlds up there right now?"

Tom-B292 spoke up from her side. "Of course, that's why we're training right now isn't it? To stop them."

"There's no way we'll stop them, at best we'll slow them down." Sev countered, the normally silent teen speaking up for once.

"Don't say that, if we don't stop them, who will? We're going to be Spartans."

Sev laughed, bitterly. "The UNSC had Spartans from the start of the war, what difference will we make. At best, we can get for revenge for those they've taken, and I plan to do that at least."

Tom-B312 felt obliged to speak up. "Don't talk like that Sev. Like Kurt told us, every battle is about Morale. If we give up, we've already lost. Besides, Spartans Never Die."

Sev looked at him oddly. "You know that's just propaganda right?"

B312 shook his head. "Every lie has a kernel of truth to it. That's what my grandpa always told me."

The mention of family silenced the trainees, all of them were orphans, and the wounds of that loss, even years later were still painful.

After a few moments, B312 spoke up again. "If it's a lie, then that's fine right? We just have to make it the truth, or at least close enough. Spartans do the impossible, and we're the best of the best."

Sev was silent at that. "I don't agree, but I can respect that Tom. I already know how I am going to die."

None of them batted an eye as a mere 9 year old, someone who should have had his whole life ahead of him, proclaiming his certainty of his demise. After all, they all knew they were facing impossible odds.

"That said..." The blonde haired teen paused... "Promise me you guys, promise that when I die, when any of us die, you'll remember me. If all of us remember those who have fallen, we'll never truly be gone, as long as even one remains."

His eyes pierced B312 like a laser, and he met them resolutely. "Of course." He responded.

"Right." Lucy added, B-292 nodding silently next to her.

Adam raised a thumbs up, then crossed two forefingers over his face in the Spartan salute.

Kat however, facing away from the group, grumbled and then turned over. "Yes, now shut up you lot, we have to be up by 0500 sharp or we'll fail."

The others grimaced at the idea, and they quickly shuffled back into comfortable positions.

As Tom-B312 slowly drifted off, he wondered. "Hey Catherine, do you think we'll survive?"

Kat glared at him, then her gaze softened and she relented. "Our job isn't to survive, our job is to give the UNSC time. But.. I hope all of us make it anyway." She turned over again.

Tom hoped they would all make it too. Beta Company was his family.

[ I ]

His eyes flicked open with a jolt.

He breathed heavily, taking in the fresh evening air.

They were gone.

They were all dead.

He sighed, staring straight at the ceiling.

He idly noted that the vision had been oddly vivid, too vivid even for a dream, and he was wide awake.

The realisation barely registered under the mountain of pain shattering his soul.

He was, for the first time since he had lost his family on that horrible night...

Truly, utterly, alone.

…

Memories filtered through his head. He couldn't let himself mope like this. He had to keep going, just like he had after his family died. After Operation Tornado killed nearly all of his second family.

He had to. The UNSC was losing, he needed to find a way back, then a way to stop the war.

But... he just wanted, to rest for a moment.

To get his breath back.

The phrase jarred something in his memory, and he remembered something Jorge had told him several weeks prior.

'Spartans are more than weapons.'

He and Emile had disagreed heavily on that one, but in a moment alone together, Jorge had mentioned more.

'Spartans are meant to be symbols. We are meant to inspire, to give new strength, to burn the fires of the phoenix that is the UNSC.'

'We are those who Deliver Hope.'

He calmed slightly, and closed his eyes for a bit of rest and recovery.

[ I ]

He came to with a start, hearing the sound of some rapping their knuckles at the door.

He cleared his throat, tired after a very long day, but no less professional.

"Come in." He invited.

The door opened, and light from the hallways filtered in.

[ I ]