When humanity was at its best, many years ago, the world was on the verge of becoming Eden. However, through man's folly, the planet they called home nearly broke. Lives lost without reason. Wars that ripped through both people and land. How quickly society fell under stress. 

From the ashes came the Radiance and the Blizzard. Two groups that persevered through conflict emerged from the destroyed world like a Phoenix raised from the dead. What was once known as America conquered the west in the name of the Blizzard. A moniker they came up with after enduring severe winters. What began as a small cult in Germany gave rise to the Radiance. Thanks to their faith, they now ruled the east side of the globe. 

The two factions dared not start another world-ending war in spite of their divergent ideologies. 

They have witnessed the atrocities of war and its aftermath. Yet, they desired more territories. None of them could deny that greed still drove their hearts. 

The result was a horrible blood game.

The Reckoning War. Began more than a century ago. Now, a repulsive form of entertainment for the people of both worlds. As soldiers from Radiance and Blizzard are sent to fight for their leaders' greed, millions of people would watch. They could not avoid being drafted, but they understood why they were sent to war. People in the system who are too impoverished are trained and deployed to combat zones. But this does not come without a prize. Anyone serving for decades would secure wealth for themselves and their loved ones. 

Many soldiers are driven by this promise. A sad truth that none could deny. 

Even then… 

“Why the hell am I here!?” 

As he gripped his seat belt, a man asked himself. The Vtol he rode had a string of black clouds outside its window. He only knew it was flak from the shockwave and explosions. Despite the sickness in his stomach, John gritted his teeth and endured the ride. He only hoped the pilot kept him safe. 

It started one morning when John Delgado came to work. He was an intern for the most popular news network, the People’s Redemption Project. He knew his experience from such an establishment would boost his chances to be hired by bigger companies. One of the other reasons he chose PRP specifically was because of their neutral view of the world. PRP chose to tell nothing but the truth. Their news would tell the world that this war was pointless and only served to bring profit to those in charge. 

Although they had good intentions, John discovered that the management was just as shady as the people they reported on. 

His boss especially. The man only saw money in telling the truth. John knew if the truth no longer profited, then this company would surely accept bribes from the two factions. It was only a matter of time. 

The elevator came to a stop as John reached his floor. The office was buzzing as usual. Everyone worked to push out story after story. Exhausted, yet they moved forward in the name of the truth. John even caught a glimpse of one headline. “Gods are real, and how they affect you.” 

The absurdity of it all. 

Suddenly, just as he was about to sit down at his desk, his name was called. He let out a long sigh and headed to meet the rat in person. 

“You called, Mr. Reeds?” 

“John! Hola! Mi hombre!” 

This dark-skinned man attempted to greet John with warmth, but all John could do was roll his eyes. John was only made more irritated by that welcome. 

Damian Reeds. His dark skin was always the first thing that caught your eye. His stylish attire would be the second. Damian compared the way he looked to a presentation. It had to be elegant and spotless. Similar to the business they conducted. 

As he sat down, John couldn't help but notice that there were far more stacks of paper than usual. John's eyes narrowed as he prepared himself for whatever wild task Damian was about to throw at him. 

“John, buddy! Guess what? You're going to be one of us now!” 

His eyes widened rapidly. “Pardon, sir?” 

“That's right! See, I got a project and needed someone to get on it quickly. But wouldn't you know it, everyone already has their hands full! So it got me thinking…” 

This was a distraction. A lengthy tirade about a topic that could have been covered in a few sentences. Stretched out into a series of paragraphs. Damian was attempting to make John less vigilant, and John knew it. John's instincts were telling him to flee because something was obviously wrong. 

However, the idea of working on projects and becoming a real journalist enticed him. No more fetching coffee. No more editing other people's work late at night. No more putting in a lot of effort just to write about it on his resume. This was the big chance he needed. He would only need to complete a few official tasks to be considered for a position in a larger organization. With PRP behind his back, John could be accepted by any news outlet. 

“That's why I think you're the man for the job!” 

“I'll do it. What exactly am I doing?” 

Damian shook his head with that disgusting smirk. “You'll know once you're aboard the Vtol.” 

He didn't like the idea of going in blind. “Do I need to bring anything?” 

“The drone will do most of the work. However, only a few interviews here and there will suffice. We've already written the questions on a notepad for you. It is all waiting in the Vtol.” 

Damien continued to elaborate on how John's actions would benefit the entire business and how he would make the PRP proud. Damian personally escorted the man to the Vtol on top of the building, inflicting his lengthy tirades on John. The pilot waited patiently. 

It was a technological marvel. A testament to advancement. On the side, the Radiance insignia was painted with pride. The Vtol itself stood out too much because it was entirely red. There was a chest inside with his name on it. This must mean that the items the PRP gathered up were inside. 

He glanced at his supervisor, wondering if this was the right choice. Damian nodded reassuringly at John, as though he could sense his uncertainty. 

He climbed inside the cargo hold of the Vtol, his steps reluctant as he slowly grew cold feet. 

“Good luck in the Reckoning!” 

The name left Damian's lips, and John's eyes widened in fear. Before he could even bolt out of the Vtol, the doors closed in on him. The vehicle lurched forward as it took off, carrying John as its crucial cargo. He pressed his face against the window and observed the building gradually growing farther away as it rose in height. 

The pilot was adamant about taking John to the worst place on earth, despite his attempts to persuade him otherwise. 

He scrambled to the chest in hopes of finding anything to help him. All he found was a brown coat, some purple armbands, and a bullet proof vest with “PRESS” written on it. Additionally, they assigned him the drone. 

With its egg-like shape, the machine gazed back at him with a single eye that seemed to understand his stress. 

“This can't be right! This can't be fucking happening!” He tried to throw the drone against the wall, but it caught itself in the air before the impact. 

Now John had a little buddy to follow him around. To watch him suffer. 

“Why, why me!? Just a few more years. Few more years of fetching coffee. Now I'm gonna be surrounded by whack jobs and psychopaths!” 

“John, you're live.” Damian's voice came out of nowhere. When John turned to look for the man who had given this death sentence, he only discovered the drone. “You ain't gonna be bringing in the cash with that attitude. Suck it up, and show these folks at home why the PRP cares about nothing but the truth!” 

“I'll show you the truth!” John marched right up to the camera. 

“My finger is already on the censor button, John. Don't think you'll be faster than me. Plus, we got a ten second delay. Enough time for me and our beautiful AI to censor anything that doesn't fit our… preference.” 

“You're a rat, Damian! I hope you know that!” 

“I always knew.” The Vtol was suddenly shaken violently by explosions. “Oh, better get dressed. Make sure the purple armbands are on. Also, check the bottom for a phone. It has an identification chip that registers you as neutral. As long as you have it on you, that is.” A sick, sadistic laugh came out of the drone. “If not, you'll be swiss cheese.” 

John quickly tossed the items onto himself. The coat fit him perfectly. The armbands helped to make him stand out. And now the phone. It was old world by design. Didn't seem like it could even play video considering how small the screen was. A flip phone as many called it. 

When he had it all, John rushed to the window to observe the mayhem below. They were directly in range of the flak cannons. 

Fearing death just outside the window, John hurried to a nearby seat and fastened his seatbelt. He prayed to the god worshiped by Radiance for safe passage. 

But as if mocked by them, a wing was torn off the Vtol. He held his breath while the machine gradually descended. Before long, it would crash. 

The cockpit door flew open as the pilot ran out. Before opening the cargo doors, he threw John a spare parachute. As the wind filled the room, John couldn't help but finally scream. The pilot didn't even give him any instructions. All he said was “For the immortal light!” And jumped right out. 

John always knew these soldiers were crazy, but not jump-into-oncoming-fire-crazy. Unfortunately, he was aware that if he did not follow the pilot's lead, he would die in a fiery manner. He yanked off his seatbelt and hurried out as fast as he could. The drone tailed behind. It captured every frame of him. From the moment he jumped off the Vtol, to the part where he was falling to his doom. 

The parachute leaped out of the pack as soon as he pulled the cord. Despite being safe from the fall, John was still being shot at with flak. Just count his lucky stars that they were at least still trying to shoot Vtol despite its rapid descent. 

John vowed to himself that he would never fly again the instant he set foot on the reasonably safe ground. 

“On your feet!” The pilot shoved a pistol into his hands. “We’re too deep in enemy territory. So stay down and-” A bullet pierced the pilot's helmet before he could even finish speaking. 

John screamed as he collapsed. He attempted to crawl away, but was stopped when Blizzard soldiers began to emerge from hiding and aimed their weapons directly at him. 

Compared to the Radiance soldiers, their armor was much older. It was a mix of old world and pre-Reckoning. A harmony between survival and tradition. They stood out among the earth because of the city camouflage. 

His life flashed before his very eyes. Every moment, every memory. Both good and bad. He recalled them all so clearly. The gun in his hands was useless to him. He wasn't against them, but he hadn't used one before either. Now he was going to die. Or so he thought. 

“Hold your fire!” One soldier commanded. “He's purple!” 

“Yeah, we can all see that, captain.” Someone else gave such a snarky response. 

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

“No, you idiot! You will only end up in trouble if you kill him! Say goodbye to your organs. Ugh, and look at that, he's a journalist.” 

John glanced at the vest. 

“Identification chips register this guy as neutral. Everyone, spread out and scan for more stragglers. Who knows what kind of filthy reds are around.” 

He couldn't believe it. John was going to live. He was going to see another day. 

“Thanks…” he patted himself off. “I didn't think you guys were going to spare me.” 

“Thank the identification chips. Without em, we might have shot you outright. Unless one of us noticed those armbands first.” The captain said. “So, what's the point of you coming here?” 

“I'm from the People's Redemption Project. Supposedly to do interviews.” The drone floated down behind John as though summoned. Its eye stared at the soldier attentively as John interacted with him. 

Despite the creepy machine giving him a chill, the captain stared at John with a look of surprise. “The PRP? No way! I'm a big fan!” 

“I thought you didn't like journalists?” 

“I do. But the PRP is all about the truth. And boy. I always listen to you bunch every day! The Radiance were once Germans? Heck, doubt a guy like me would've known. Could you sign my gun?” 

“Uh, sure.” Reluctantly, John pulled out his pen and did as requested. Then he smacked himself as he remembered an important detail. “Say, I actually have a couple of questions here and I'm wondering if I can do an interview.” John took out the notepad and prepared himself. 

“For the PRP? I'd catch a grenade for this chance! Soldiers, secure the area!” 

John took a moment to peruse the notepad and see what needed to be done. There were various instructions made for many encounters. Questions that he needed to ask. He flipped through the pages until he was at the one for Blizzard operatives. 

“First question: Do you know what the Reckoning is? This is simply an opening question so that the viewers at home will have some level of understanding.” 

“Wait? We're already live? Hey mom!” The captain waved at the drone. “Right, the question. Well, the Reckoning is a game. Not for us, but for the big wigs. We are just pieces on the board. Pawns. Nothing matters to us but survival. So we play this game.” He sighed. “Honestly, this is all fucked up. We fight. We kill. They get the victory. If the reward wasn't as good, then this war would've been fought with ghosts.” 

“Aren't you worried that the big wigs you're talking about could see this?” 

He scoffed. “Like they'd care at all! Bastards will just roll their eyes and move on. Probably trying to make more weapons to sell to the soldiers.” 

“They sell to the soldiers?” This question wasn't even in the notepad, John was genuinely curious. 

“Yeah! One of the benefactors of this game is United Arms.” 

“Right, I remember their reading about their open support for the Reckoning.” 

“Yup, a-holes invest into the game so they can be the most known and most popular gun company on the planet.” 

“You are well informed,” John noted. 

The captain chuckled. “That's because I listen to the one and only PRP, baby!” 

John couldn't help but roll his eyes. He then moved on to the next question. It seemed that the questions were an attempt to make these soldiers seen more as crazed gunmen. 

“Do you think the Radiance is relatable?” 

“Religiously motivated. They think they're on some big crusade to unite the world. Hardly anyone to relate to. Sure every now and then there's one Radiance soldier who is only in the Reckoning for money. But that's rare. Radiance soldiers will always fight for the undying light or whatever. I fight to make sure my descendants don't have to.” 

“I see, where do you come from?” 

“A place used to be called Canada. Somewhere in the outskirts to be correct. It isn't bad out there. A little cold at times. But hey, it was home.” 

“Did you ever think you'd be here, in… Old France?” 

The captain paused as he scanned the surroundings. “This is France? I'm supposed to be in Egypt.” 

“I assure you, captain. We are in France right now. Say so in my GPS.” John confirmed it by showing his phone to the soldier. 

“Well, when in Rome I guess.” 

“As for my question, sir?” 

“To end up in France is honestly better than Egypt. Nicer climate. Warm. Heard deserts are blazing hot. Especially in the summer. Hey Pete! Didn't you know a guy who got sent to Egypt!?” 

“Sir, he was eaten by a sandworm, sir!” Pete answered. 

“Right, let's not forget the mutants. Honestly, all I've seen here in France are war hounds and the occasional griffons.” 

“Griffons?” 

“Nasty mutant, used to be an eagle I think. Big as a bus, has a taste for human flesh.” 

Another thing to fear in this accursed place. John took note to watch out for this monster. He could feel the chances of his survival growing thin. 

The intern turned journalist then glanced at the next question. “What do you know about Zero?” 

The captain was quick to clamp his mouth shut. “Shush! Don't say his damn name!” 

John pulled away. “Why not? Is Zero a taboo subject for you soldiers?” 

“Come on man, don't jinx us. Saying his name over and over is like bad luck.” 

“I thought you soldiers wanted to hunt him down, considering the reward.” 

He shook his head. “I'm not a fool. I know I can't take him on. Bastard is a walking tank. A mountain in armor. He may be slow, but once he has you in his hands, it's over.” 

“You'll be happy to know Zero was last seen on Madagascar. Too far from France.” 

“Oh, that's actually good then! Well, all I know about the guy is that he likes to kill us for no apparent reason. Monster like him isn't aligned to any faction. If I were you, drop this Zero business and focus on something more on anything your speed.” 

A shot rang out. The echoing of an empty shell against the ground was heard. Then the heavy footsteps. Slow and methodical. As though each step was calculated and exact. Something heavy was getting closer. 

Pete's screams filled the air as he was gunned down. It resembled a string of thunderclaps. Then Pete's body dropped like a sack. What replaced him was something that the entire team feared. Towering over the corpse was a monster of a man. Outfitted in bulky ballistic armor. The harrowing mask underneath was further protected by the helmet's face shield. But through the face shield's slit, his mask's red eyes showed through. 

Heavy breathing filled the air as this beast scanned them as if they were mere prey. 

“Bad fucking luck.” The captain hissed. 

Even John was frozen. Fear took control of his body. Right in front of him was the legend himself. Zero. Rumored to be a renegade Blizzard soldier who is now searching for and killing anyone who stands in his way…. 

A small shield for his forearm provided heavy protection for his left arm. The shotgun was custom made. The stock cut down to a pistol grip, and a top handle for easy movement. What should've been a simple weapon given a mag well for more ammunition. Enough 12 gauge was fed into the gun by the drum mag to rip apart an unarmored man. He had enough magazines to kill everyone he saw, and he carried extras. 

A tape with a word that John could not read from a distance was placed on his chest. 

This was wrong. He was supposed to be down south. When did he even arrive in the country!? 

“Open fire!” The captain commanded. 

As soon as every weapon came to life, John sprinted. 

Zero just watched as the bullets ricocheted off him. A few bounced off his armor. It was clear that he wore something far stronger than most soldiers were equipped with. It made sense; prior to turning against everyone, he must have been a breacher unit. He was like a titan to them. 

The juggernaut angled himself with his left arm faced toward them. Now, most of the shots bounced off the metal plate on his forearm and were diverted to the side. The red-lettered word "SMILE" with an arrow aimed down at the shotgun was enough to make everyone shudder. 

Although he stammered in his attack, the captain kept shooting at the beast. 

Zero then took his first step toward them. As he got closer, the ground seemed to tremble. He was like an unstoppable boulder. Slowly, he descended upon them. He fired back a shot every few paces. 

One by one, the soldiers fell. As he took them down, there was no trace of regret in his luminous red eyes. 

“Grenade!” 

Despite his heavy armor, Zero was quick to swat the grenade from its trajectory. It detonated right behind him and a rain of dirt pelted his armor. 

The captain watched as his own men and women were killed. Despite his weapon clicking empty, the captain quickly switched to his sidearm. He continued shooting until the ammunition ran out as well. Now he stared at his would-be killer. He was dwarfed by Zero. His labored breathing became more audible. As though he were looking directly into the captain's soul, his eyes glared at him. 

“Fuck you.” The captain's final words before his warm blood began to run out of his mouth. As though it were paper, Zero's arm shield spikes pierced the captain's kevlar. 

Watching the captain fall to the ground, Zero cocked his head. 

Silence. 

He stood there, waiting. 

John watched it all happen. It was like an unstoppable storm. Everything was torn apart as it rolled in. 

He was lucky to find a good spot to hide. 

Unfortunately, as though the gods were pulling a cruel prank, his hand slipped off the dirt mound, sending some rocks flying. It alerted Zero to his spot. John, however, quickly ducked down. He only hoped that the monster would leave him alone. 

His face was glowing a gentle shade of red. When he looked up, the man himself was staring down at him. 

Before John could even scream, Zero grabbed him by the collar of his coat and pulled John out of hiding. He was now looking directly into this beast's eyes. Zero was gigantic. A Goliath of a man. Towering him by 8 feet tall. Bad enough that John was 5 feet and 7 inches. If anything, he was a pebble compared to Zero. 

As if to add insult to injury, the drone was streaming his own execution to all. He won't let them have the satisfaction of seeing him beg for his life. John was going to take note of the captain's bravery until death. If only he could summon the strength to say his last words. 

Suddenly, he felt pressure on his chest. Zero was pushing his finger right at the word “PRESS” on his vest. 

Confused, John could only watch as Zero pressed his finger at John once more. 

“How does this work?” She asked him. Through her mask came her voice. 

She. 

She? 

SHE!? 

This mountain of a man… is a woman!? This 8 feet tall titan. This discovery seemed to shock even the drone. 

John couldn't even say a word as Zero dropped him. Zero started to scavenge the battlefield without hesitation. Looting the corpses. The woman rummaged through the deceased's possessions while the man, still in his daze, looked on. 

“Wait… Zero?” He finally spoke. It felt as if he was trapped in silence for decades. His own voice, so alien to him. “Ma'am?” 

Zero continued to scavenge, not listening to his words. 

With newfound courage, the man approached the monster in human clothing. His steps were reluctant. He felt his core still shaking from fear. 

“Excuse me?” 

“Yes?” She finally answered. 

“You're… what are you doing?” 

“Is it not clear?” Like a bewildered puppy, her head cocked to one side. 

“No, I can see that you're looting. But, why spare me?” 

“You don't look like you belong here. Don't think you deserve to die.” She spoke so casually. As if she hadn't just slaughtered some soldiers. 

“You're supposed to be in Madagascar.” 

“I walked.” Zero returned to her business. 

Swallowing down the lump in his throat, John proceeded to approach her. Gone was his trepidation. Replaced with purpose. 

“Why, why do you fight?” 

“No idea.” She was blunt yet quick. “Just natural instincts.” 

John glanced at the drone hoping it was catching all of this. Finally, an up close interview with the legend. 

“Could you… could you tell me why you're here?” 

“Looking for something.” She was being vague on purpose. 

“Why did you kill them?” He asked as he glanced at the body of the captain. Despite knowing him only for a short moment, John felt a hint of remorse from his death. 

“Ammo. Food. The thrill.” 

That last one, John couldn't help but scoff. “Is this just a game to you?” 

“It is a game.” She stood up to her full height. Her frame towered over him. John felt so tiny compared to this monster. “Let me ask you a question: What does the button on your chest do?” 

John glanced at the word at his vest. “It's not a button?” He started to question her intelligence. Made some sense since she seemed more of a killer than a thinker. “I'm a journalist. Here to make a story about the Reckoning and the soldiers fighting.” 

“Oh! So it's not a button?” She sounded so disappointed. 

“No, it isn't.” 

Silence. Complete utter silence. For five whole minutes. 

“So… I'm John Delgado.” 

“Hello.” 

He waited for a response, but the giant simply stared at him. 

“Bye.” 

Before he could even say a word, Zero started to walk away. 

John watched as she vanished over the hill. She vanished as quickly as a whisper. 

He couldn't believe it. He spoke with Zero. The Zero. And lived to tell the tale. If this doesn't earn him a place among the elites, then nothing will. 

His celebration was cut short as he heard someone coughing. 

“God, it hurts.” The captain groaned in pain as his eyes opened. 

John took care of the man who ought to have been dead right away. 

“You're alive!?” 

“I won't go down easy…” He chuckled dryly. Then he gestured toward a corpse nearby. “Private Slim is a medic. Grab his kit…” 

As soon as John got the medical kit, he ripped the captain's armor off and started tending to his injuries. Two puncture holes on his right side. It looked bad. John would not know any better, though, because he was not a doctor. 

“Don't think you'll last long…” John said grimly. 

“No, it'll be fine. This will keep me alive for a few hours. Enough for back up to get me. Just give me some morphine.” 

Once the captain was tended to, John took a step back. He watched as he called for help. The captain would be saved in no time by reinforcements. 

For now, John was going to get back to work. Walk the opposite way of where Zero went. That was his plan. 

But the drone stopped him in his tracks. 

“John, you magnificent bastard!” His boss, Damian, spoke through the drone once more. 

“The view count is skyrocketing! That encounter with Zero? Bueno! But finding out the monster of the Reckoning is a woman? Absolute twist! Now everyone is tuning in wanting to see her live!” 

“How is this live? There's a ten second delay.” 

“That doesn't matter. What matters is… I got a job for you.” 

“I already have a job.” 

“New job! Go after Zero and get us an interview! Maybe even catch more of the violence! People loved watching her kill those Blizzard soldiers!” 

John couldn't help but feel disgusted. He was wise enough not to lash out at the drone, though. Rather, he approached the discussion with as much composure as possible. His pistol aimed at the drone. “I won't follow that monster around.” 

“You don't have a choice, John.” Damian chuckled. “You can either do as you are told. Or we shut off that identification chip in the phone.” 

His eyes widened. The implication of this threat. Without the chip, he'd be considered hostile by all forces. This world he found himself in wasn't a safe one. 

“You can't kill me. People will know.” He tried to argue. 

“We can claim that a shell landed on you. There is a war going on, if you forgot.” Damian sighed. “I don't want that, John. I like you, and you just brought us some big bucks.” 

“Mr. Reeds, please, I don't want to follow that monster.” 

“John…” 

Perhaps Damian was as human as anyone else. 

“Listen, John. Just do your job and maybe. Maybe we can get you out of there as soon as possible.” The drone hovered there. “This is your big break, buddy. I know you're only in the PRP because it'll score you a good seat with other media companies. I'll even put in a good word for you. Just do this for us. Show the world the truth of Zero.” 

He pulled over his words for a moment. This was indeed what he needed. A chance. 

John looked around. Corpses of Zero's victims scattered around. The captain gave him a thumbs up, as if encouraging John to take the offer. The distant cannon fire is visible in the gray skies. The chaos of war continued to rage. In the distance, weapons of destruction painted the skies. 

“Fine, I'll follow her.” 

“Good luck!” It was evident to John that Damian was grinning. 

“You're going to be fine here on your own?” He asked the last soldier. A while ago, they shot and killed the pilot in charge of John. But here he was, chatting with the captain as if they were good friends. 

“I'll be fine. Best get started on your job now. Once I get back to base, I'll be watching the stream!” He chuckled. “Must be my luckiest day: I survived the wrath of Zero, and I met an actual upcoming celebrity! I'll keep this gun safe!” The captain waved his weapon, the same one John signed earlier. 

“Never did get your name.” John moved the drone so it would be pointed at the soldier. 

“Captain Theodore Campbell.” He saluted at the camera. 

“Hope to see you out of this, captain.” With that said, John started to follow the trail Zero left behind. 

As he made his way to track down the monster, he couldn't help but remember what was written on that tape on her chest. Luna. Was it her name? Her squad? Mysteries upon mysteries. 

He flipped the notepad open and started to write down his own questions for Zero. He recalled the way she answered, as if she was disinterested. Or simply not all there. 

The intensity of her eyes- or, more accurately, the lenses of her mask. It showed emotions. Something raw. Was it hate? Regret? Or simply a sign of humanity? Only time could tell. For now, John had to track her down. All he needed to do was follow the destruction.