Joakim stared back at his brother as the fighting had slowed down, prompted by the General’s order. For several moments, the boys gazed at one another, not moving an inch. 10 months had passed since they last saw each other, yet they both looked like they had aged somewhat more than that.
“Joakim…” Stefan could only mutter. “Why are you with… them? Why are you on the side of the monsters who killed Mum?”
Joakim could not hear his brother due to the distance. He desperately wanted to get closer, but the traitor to the Empire Egon Linden was only an arm’s length from him. By killing him, would he finally be able to go home? More importantly, would he rather kill a man he had never met, or run into the arms of his beloved brother who had been away from him for so long? The choice was incredibly tough, but it never had to be made. A Titanian soldier suddenly sprinted at him and tackled him away from the podium and out of the Baron’s vicinity. On the ground, he saw his instructor getting to her feet again before offering a hand.
“Why…?” he wanted to ask why she had done such a thing, but before he could receive an answer, the unanticipated sound of shattering glass filled the hall as the skylight that was above it was penetrated. Being essentially resistant to cuts on the skin, the Titanian soldiers only looked on as many of the Black Shield soldiers started to retreat back into the tunnels. A heavily built male figure, slightly shorter than an average Titanian man, in a full suit of bright crimson armor jumped down onto the floor at the centre of the hall, creating a small tremor. As the dust cleared, all the fighting had ceased as the man looked around, walking to the back of the hall near the podium. The Titanians were astonished to see the man’s red armor glistening, the dust having no effect on its appearance. Of course it didn’t. The armor had been commissioned and made of the highest quality by the missing Emperor Halsten as a heartfelt gift.
“The Angel Slayer…” many muttered as those near him back away while he passed them. The mere presence of this man had caused many to shiver underneath their armor. For he was the 1000-man murderer--the self-exiled fugitive bastard half-Terran son of the late Emperor Henrik. He also just so happened to be the strongest Titanian born in memory. A few of the bolder soldiers attempted to shoot at him, but the projectiles bounced off of his armor. He hadn’t even acknowledged he’d been hit. Amidst the distraction, a strong pair of arms grabbed Stefan and pulled him into the tunnels.
“Ivan…?” Stefan exclaimed recognising the masked soldier who’d taken him away from the scene of the paused battle. “What do you think you’re doing? My brother, and- and—
“I know I’m the type of person to whine about every inconvenience, but this is one we both stay out of. I don’t want to be your babysitter, if it gives any consolation.” the more experienced, slightly older soldier reminded the disgruntled teenager.
“One of my friends turns out to be a traitor… and then I see my own brother who I haven’t seen for almost a year on the same side…? I deserve to be out there. This fight is mine!” Stefan cried as he tried to wrestle his way out of the man’s grasp, when another pair of hands rested themselves on his shoulders. “I have to set things straight!”
“Meinrad wasn’t the only traitor…” Anwen said from behind her mask, identical to Stefan’s and Ivan’s, sitting in front of the boy.. “Klaudia’s on the other side. And unless you want to be in Gareth’s crossfire, you’ll be gone too. Just try to understand.”
Her brown eyes seemed to twinkle as they were moistened, framed by the blackness of the mask around them. Forgetting their loud squabble only days earlier, Stefan’s composure relaxed and allowed Ivan to pull himself away from him. Anwen’s eyes and the melancholic tone of her voice were enough to calm him down. She wasn’t angry with him this time. She’d spoken her true thoughts—she did not want to lose another friend.
“I’m sorry.” Stefan whispered, pulling Anwen closer to him. Anwen hesitated to squeeze him back, given the context of the previous hug she’d received, but gave in anyway. Stefan wasn’t so reckless that he’d throw his life away so easily. All he’d needed was a strong reminder.
“Rhona!” Gareth roared; his helmet now tucked under his arm. Many gasps among the Titanians were stifled behind their palms, expressing their shock seeing that the features Empire’s strongest soldier-turned-enemy had become so much more Terran since most of them had last seen him nearly 11 years earlier. “Stand before me, if you are truly the General of the Titanian regime!”
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So that’s the sister he talked about, Anwen mused, sitting in the safety of the tunnels with one of Stefan’s arms securely around her shoulders.
Rhona calmly crossed over in front of him, separated from him by roughly three yards.
“You really have been missing all these years,” Rhona remarked. “I see you have that old-gen suit Halsten gave you. You have to hold that helmet in your arm.”
“And you have yours on your head. I suppose that means you were prepared for me to arrive?” Gareth asked mockingly.
At that moment, Maedoc joined Rhona’s side, brandishing his automatic rifle, intent on emptying its entire magazine of Utrium-based bullets onto Gareth.
“Oh, I remember you. You’re that massacring pissant,” Gareth scoffed. “Have the past few months allowed you to really, really take in that your squad was killed? Do you see their faces in your dreams, begging to come back?”
“No,” Rhona spoke, shoving Maedoc away from her. “This is my fight. Anyone who attempts to involve themselves in it will be tried for contempt. If any of you were to flee, I suggest doing so now.”
Gareth responded by tossing his helmet to the ground—he wouldn’t need it. All around the hall and indeed the whole house, particles of dust and debris began to float. Tensions were rising, concentrations of Reserve in bodies were increasing.
“You know,” Gareth said, throwing a glance at Maedoc on the sidelines. “I was holding back when I fought your squad. That child hindered my power. Now, Rhona… there is nothing holding me back. Come on. Come at me.”
“None of us can ever hope to put down that beast,” Tove Gerlachus muttered as she stood alongside her students. “But General Karesti… I believe she can put a dent in him.”
Rhona held her pistol out in front of her, pointing it directly at the centre of Gareth’s forehead. Was she foolish enough to try and get a direct hit on him? No. It was a bluff. She turned the gun around, aiming it at her own chest.
“What is she…” Maedoc questioned in a murmur, but he was answered when she pulled the trigger on herself. The beam of light that emerged bounced off of her high-grade armor, ricocheting all over the place. The remaining soldiers—all nobles and media that had survived had been evacuated by then—scrambled to find places to protect themselves as the Reserve beam bounced all over the place. Gareth’s fast pupils followed the beam, trying to decipher where it would hit. He predicted where it would finally land and he moved out of the way, only for the beam to enter through a gap between his breastplate and neck only thou wide. It seared the skin of his chest, but it wasn’t enough to penetrate.
“Smart as ever, aren’t you, Rhona?” Gareth said snobbishly as he winced in discomfort. Rhona used the brief window of time before his recovery to lunge at him, pulling out her dagger and slicing it through the air towards his throat. Gareth was just barely able to form a Level 15 barrier. It wasn’t fast enough to protect him from a grazing of the knife’s tip, but the rapid formation of the barrier was enough to knock the weapon out of his opponent’s hand. Moving at a substantial speed, Rhona crashed through the barrier as her strength was powerful enough to overcome it. Unable to generate another barrier fast enough, Gareth tilted his head down and pushed hard, headbutting Rhona’s helmeted face with such force that the front of it shattered, revealing her frustrated appearance. As she felt towards the ground back-first, Gareth couldn’t help but smirk.
“You’ve become so much prettier since the last day I saw you, little sister.” he laughed as the impact of her body hitting the floor caused a tiny vibration across the floor. Not because of her weight, but because of the pure concentration of Reserve in it. She had the power of an entire company—200 ordinary soldiers—harbored inside her veins. Even then, she had only managed to scratch Gareth up a bit. The Titanian combatant classification system listed her as A-Class, while Gareth was either A+ or S Class. He was the strongest of the strongest.
“Little sister…?” Stefan said, peaking just above the bottom of the tunnel entrance. No one was watching the tunnels anymore. Every single Titanian had their eyes on the battle between two royal siblings.
“He told me he had a little sister…” Anwen quietly admitted. “I... just didn’t know it would be their general.”
“Hey… now’s not the time for that. I told you to wait until everything settles down, didn’t I?” Stefan reminded in a soft but firm tone.
Gareth stood over his sister’s downed form, preventing her from getting back to her feet. He’d picked up the very knife she tried to cut him with and held it, its tip pointing downwards at her. She had just enough room to wiggle her hands around and faced them downwards relative to the horizontal position she lay in.
“Ranken!” she cried, noticing the grip of the hand on around her knife tightening, preparing to sink it into her head. Long tendrils extended from her gauntlet-clad palms; constructs of pure Reserve made from a refined kind of Casting which took decades to master and that few had. They whipped forward at Gareth’s legs faster than he could react, wrapping around them like snakes and pulled him to the ground. Rhona got to her knees and immediately began to pummel his exposed head with her fists.
“I thought…” she said began in between punches.
“…you didn’t need…” she continued to batter his skull.
“…a helmet?” her cruel question was asked, taking a beating that left Gareth with a bloody nose, mouth and blurry vision to complete.
But if it were nearly any other Titanian soldier, they would’ve been dead at two jabs, an Initiated Terran perhaps one. An ordinary human would’ve been killed by the mere grazing of the knuckles. Gareth was far from either.