“Heh.. I did it…” Rowen slumped to his knees, and the system of his armor screamed a warning. “Why… so silent? Where’s a cheer?”

His front teeth exploded, his bladder burst, and blood spurted from his nostrils as a result of the rebound that resulted from pushing his power far beyond its natural limits. Rowen saved them. He saved a section of the factory with his power at an immense cost to himself. The armor continued listing damaged organs, and Elina breathed a sigh of relief, seeing Ludwig catch the boy and lower Rowen on the ground, and begin to explain the situation to him via sign language.

“Don’t… get it,” Rowen coughed.

Bastard! Had he been slacking off during the sign language classes? Elina almost forgot the throbbing pain in her own lost limb. Playing cards, is he? Oh, she won’t tell Torosian. She’ll handle it herself. Rowen won’t be playing anymore; he won’t have any free time to put the weird stuff in his room. She’ll make him study until… until he can recite the entire Common History on his fingers!

Ludwig made an okay sign, took out a terminal, typed words, and showed them to the wounded trainee. One of his soldiers took over, forming a defensive perimeter in the ruined corridor and calling the rest of the group over. There was no point in running; many of the group members had wounds on their bodies, and if the president failed, no other S-Class would arrive in time to save them. And at least here they could enjoy some safety, thanks to the factory’s sturdiness.

“Hurt!” she heard Eliza say.

Jumail brought them out of the hall, lowering the mangled team down on the still-contaminated floor. Two Avengers took off their capes and spread them out to help lay down the convulsing Vasily and Eliza. Remembering the Shadow’s gift, Elina found the syringes and took them with a trembling hand.

Where? Where is the situation the worst of all? The answer was simple everywhere. Neither of the teens had any skin left; blood started drying up on the gleaming meat. And worst of all, they shouted.

“Hurt! It hurts so much, Mommy!” Ratcatcher screamed, trying to stand, but the Trolls restricted her. Every movement sent a splash of blood on their armor, and God only knew what diseases were coursing through the wounded veins or trying to nestle in them. “What should I do?! Mommy, I can’t escape! It hurts so much, Mommy! The spider, the spider has got me and I can’t escape!”

There was no time. Elina made the first injection close to Vasily’s ruined lung and the next one at Eliza’s neck. The ends of popped veins and ruined muscles leapt on their own accord and started glueing to each other. A bit of skin grew over the exposed trachea, and the lung pushed out a knot of blood, allowing Vasily to breathe easier.

“We’ll get you out,” Elina promised, wanting to hug them but not daring as it would hurt them. “This time we’ll help you run away, Lizzie, Vas. And soon the pain will be just a nasty dream, I promise.”

“Here.” Carlos handed Augustus his own shots. “I can wait until a hospital,” he whispered through the pain, darkening his visor to hide tears. “I’m a Barjoni. We have the implants to deal with such a trivial… minor… insignificant paper cut!” he screamed the last words and bit his tongue as the Trolls treated his wounds.

Elina didn’t. She cried. In pain, relief, and worry over her comrades. Alive! They are still alive; everything else is irrelevant. As long as there is life, there is a chance. Augustus gently pushed her aside, making injections into Vasily’s and Ratcatcher’s hearts to keep them beating.

“Hurt, hurt, hurt!” Eliza yelled, rolling her eyes. The regenerative concoction was hard at work; the girl shrank visibly, and the pain of her repaired organs increased tenfold as pain receptors came to life. To keep her alive, they had to use the injections. And in doing so, they doubled or even tripled the torture. “Mommy!!! It hurt so much!”

Vasily let out a wordless cry, something akin to the mewling, whimpering, and explosion of dynamite smashed into one. Elina never knew a human could make such noises. He sucked in air into his restored lung, only to release it into an ear-piercing, agonizing shriek.

“It doesn’t hurt!” Esmeralda said. She knelt beside Vasily and placed a hand on his bloody head.

“Not one bit,” Edward added, taking Ratcatcher by the side of her head and closing the holes where her ears used to be.

“Hurt!”

“It doesn’t,” the twins said in unison, and their drool started falling on the inner side of their visor. Tears appeared in their eyes. “Know why? Your emotions come to us. We eat them, we feel them, we own them, and you are numb, but it is a soothing numbness, a healing numbness …” The two trembled, their bodies shaking at the shared pain.

“Take… my syringes…” Rowen pulled his gift out of the pocket of his armor. He screamed out every word, not out of pain, even if it bothered him, but because he thought he was whispering.

You sure? Ludwig typed a question.

“Eh, not going to croak so soon. Trust me, I know, cause I’m… going to be a doctor.” Rowen smirked.

There is a true nobility in you, gentle one. Ludwig wrote, handing the syringes to Augustus.

“I’d wish!” Rowen screamed. “I am a stupid moron who got tangled with drugs, hurt Dad, and always ends up being a dead weight…”

“Ignore him; the moron’s delirious,” Jumail asked Ludwig, who nodded and kept typing, trying to calm down Rowen. Jumail tried to reach the back of his armor, scratching the surface with his claws. “A little help, anyone? I can’t reach my own needles. They’re in a compartment near the butt.”

“Why did you put them there if you can’t reach them?” Carlos laughed, resting his head on a Troll’s knee while two others tended to his wounds.

“Sorry, your highnesses, I thought being able to use a plasma cannon was more important than throwing medicine around! It’s not my fault that the damn automatic system got jammed when I got kicked!”

“Give it to me,” Elina demanded, taking Esmeralda’s shoulder with a shaking hand. “His pain. Her pain. Shove it down my throat.”

“Can’t,” Esmeralda lied.

“You’re too weak to endure it, Linny.” Edward was more blunt. “Trust in us, ‘kay? We are tough cookies; our parents taught us well.”

“Yeah, it’s just pain. Big deal,” his sister added. “You did your part; let us do ours.”

Elina watched them in worry. Tension marked their faces, their teeth chattered, and their bodies shook constantly. Sweat ran down their faces, intermingling with tears and drool. The systems of their armor reported an increased heartbeat and rapidly growing temperature. But the two tortured bodies close to their knees breathed easier, sinking into a condition close to unconsciousness. The twins didn’t let the trainees find refuge there; they held them conscious, focusing every ounce of their bodies on fighting for life.

If Elina could, she’d force those two to pile everything at her. They didn’t deserve to suffer. And she was fairly certain she could’ve handed an ass beating to both cheating liars with one hand. Too weak, her ass! She didn’t see them lifting regularly! Come to think about it, they always weaseled out of the gym’s duties, unwilling to bulk up a little out of care for their lean bodies. But as it stood, all she could do was watch, letting others care for her and clenching her fist in concern.

“Spirit of Pride, give me confidence in my strength,” Esmeralda asked, closing her eyes.

“Spirit of Loss, sap my pain so I can keep my comrades safe,” Edward muttered.

A prayer to the Spirits? Elina wondered, not daring to distract them with questions. Belief in the Spirits was a bunch of mumbo jumbo superstitions invented by the dust-dwelling Wolfkins that somehow got spread far and wide, and some charlatans turned it into an actual religion. Elina had little tolerance for such fantasies; a proper religion starts in opulent chapels, led by the regal priests made of wise women and men, and not by some cannibalistic, furred barbarians. Not that she’d ever insult anyone out loud for their beliefs. Superior or not, the Iternians had to be enlightened enough to respect other faiths.

How do these two even know about it? Must’ve heard something in Stonehelm. Wait, why are they praying to the Spirits, then? Who finds a new religion in a span of a few days? Something is off… Aiii! She blinked tears of pain as a Troll began cleaning her bleeding stump and then bandaged it. The adrenaline faded, and every single sting near the cut was more painful than a whip. The girl didn’t find it in her heart to tell the good man that her armor could have done it.

“So this is what the wars of old looked like,” Wivin said, staying guard over the wounded.

Elina turned around. Dark and green clouds have covered the entire horizon. Pillars of light kept striking from above, charting lines across the ground, merging the edges of the canyons together, and turning the ground into glass. The Chosen Prince and Lord Steward were there, somewhere, fighting and tearing each other apart. Tremors caused by their titanic struggle reached all the way here. A few pebbles jumped up and down near Elina’s legs, making her wonder what in the world was happening there, inside the dark cover.

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A mountain rose. The quake that should’ve preceded its appearance reached them after its tip touched the sky. Something sliced it in half, and before the top fell, the deadly mist wrapped around its sides, reducing the ejected slab of stone to ash that rained down on the battlefield and disappeared in another flash of light.

“Nothing of the sort,” Augustus said.

His hands moved, injecting the wounded trainees with the last regeneration shots, and Elina saw bubbling flesh appear over their bodies. Where Ratcatcher’s skin was pale, rough, and yet somewhat pink and pale, Vasily’s was grayish, and his skin formed small, uneven circles. Scales, Elina understood. Vasily was reverting to his original appearance. The effect of speeding up healing was undoing the cosmetic operation.

“In the past, such laser beams were used to assassinate minor government officials or troublesome journalists,” Augustus explained. “Imagine, if you can, Countymeister Wivin, a gigantic shield covering our planet. And not just one; the smaller ones formed further defensive spheres. To punch through such a defense, an assassin would’ve had to concentrate on a section of the shield, bringing down the fury capable of irrecoverably scarring the planet. It was impossible to do so in secret without provoking a retaliatory strike from all the nations living in the system. The murderers would send a host of nanomachines, and over time, they formed a small spy satellite flying in the clouds, gathering solar energy. And then unleashing it in a burst, splitting an unfortunate soul in two.” He nodded at the fury coming from the sky.

“And how do you know it, Honorable Augustus?” Ludwig asked. He held Rowen upright, preventing the teenager from choking on his own blood.

“Rho Industrials wasn’t always a big company. In the Old World, it was a subsidiary of a larger one, bowing to the headquarters on the Red Planet. One of our founders decided to up the ante by moving some of our facilities to Iterna and started building the orbital elevator there.” Augustus fell silent and sighed. “It saved our line and our company. It also ended her line.”

“My condolences,” Wivin said. She took off her helmet, and Elina saw dried blood streaks on her ears and nose. “Am I correct in assuming that the legendary spaceship of Iterna came to the president’s aid?”

“Our aid,” Augustus corrected her. “I hardly think he needs any assistance to stay alive.”

“You’d change that tune if you had ever seen the worthless Ravager pile-driving the great Lord Steward with enough force to create an active volcano.” Wivin dropped her helmet and sat, showing for the first time how weary she was. “But enough of the horrors of the past. Tell me, is there any price I can pay to see the interior of the ship, to breathe the air circulating in its halls, to walk on its floors? I swear on my life, on my dedication to the noble Brogard, and on my honor that I’d use nothing I see or learn there against Iterna.” Her emotion modulators no longer worked, but Elina was smart enough to sense a desperate longing.

And she didn’t blame her. The spaceship! An almost infinite trove of knowledge and the precious gift of the past. If not for the accursed situation at the Moon, it could’ve carried seeds of civilization to other worlds in the system, helping restore broken habitats and unlocking secrets of the past. Elina never shared Vasily’s thirst for unearthing lost knowledge; truth be told, she joined the Academy to have a right to use her power, but even her heart ached at the thought of meteors raining at the ruins floating through space. What if there were some cryo or stasis pods up there, holding people who had hoped for salvation?

“You can watch the official reports to see the allowed areas of the ship, and you can breathe recycled air to get a taste of what the people up there are breathing. As for visiting… impossible,” Augustus told her. He pushed Esmeralda off Vasily, and she fell, grabbing her legs and swaying back and forth, mumbling prayers. Edward tried to snarl and keep taking in Eliza’s pain, but Augustus had none of that and threw him off, resulting in the teen breathing out loudly. Edward tried to crawl, but a sharp look stopped him. “Two minutes. You can continue in two minutes. As for your request, countymeister, the only way the spaceship can get to the planet is if Redeemer uses her portal power to bring it in for help. Short of being attacked by an S-class, that’s never going to happen. The ship is always needed up there. Iterna has a rudimentary fleet of shuttlecraft. They fly in and out, picking up children to bring back to the planet…”

“There are children up there?” Ludwig asked. “How dare Iterna use gentle ones for soldiers…”

“They are not soldiers.” Augustus held Eliza’s and Vasily’s mouths, keeping them from choking on their tongues. “When you have large quantities of men and women locked together, they tend to get… horny. And life always finds a way.”

“But… on a spaceship?” Wivin asked.

“We also receive an occasional infant refugee or two from the Moon. Life always finds a way,” Augustus repeated. “Iterna tries to evacuate all of them, but our resources are focused elsewhere. And after what happened, we can’t risk any Elite getting close to the moon. It waits for them there.”

“Irresponsible bastards, incapable of keeping their dicks in their pants. They should’ve made eunuchs out of themselves if they are unable to remember about using simple contraceptives.” Ludwig cursed. The sight of a Troll swearing in a calm voice drew chuckles of pain from the trainees. “It is not a laughing matter, gentle ones. The adults are responsible for your well-being. It is cruelty to birth a new life in a horrid place. I am sure my Iternian comrades feel the same way: we fight so the future generation won’t have to.”

“Oh, Ludwig.” Wivin glanced at him. “You’ll make a fine countymeister yet.”

“I am quite content with my position, Countymeister. I have no higher aspirations, for I am a sword and a shield, furthering the oath’s reach…” He stirred, hearing footsteps.

The rescued workers approached those of them who could still walk, mostly Trolls, a few Insectones, and the man Eliza had saved from the line breakers. Several of them started filming the distant battle on their terminals, but most were doing their best not to look at that. And none dared to film the wounded.

“Will they survive?” an Insectone asked, nodding at the skinless trainees. Although they had regained some of their flesh, most of the healing had happened in the internal organs, and Eliza and Vasily trembled, mumbling in pain at a sudden rush of air hitting them.

“They are tough enough,” Augustus replied. Wires slipped out from under his vambrace. “But they have lost a lot of blood. This isn’t a perfect place to perform a blood transfusion…”

“Desperate times, desperate measures,” Wivin interrupted him. She shifted closer and tore the bandage from her wounded shoulder. “Troll blood is suitable for all blood types. Take as much as you need from me.”

“And from us!” the Trolls, both the workers and the Avengers joined, holding out their hands.

Elina smiled, crawling closer to her wounded friends. The fabric of the cloaks didn’t let the water through, and blood had collected on it, painting some of her armor, but she didn’t care. She lay there and watched as the twins, still visibly shaken, closed in, taking the pain away again. She prayed to whatever deities she could find to give the wounded strength and to ensure that the regeneration had healed enough of their bodies to last until help arrived. A short time later, a shadow fell upon them. Jumail positioned himself above them, shielding the wounded from the gusts of wind.

“We haven’t achieved anything this time,” Elina whispered, tasting bitterness on her lips. Too weak again. “We couldn’t prevent the monster’s birth. All we could do was run away…”

“Is that so, trainee?” Augustus’ sharp voice cut her off. His armor connected Vasily and Eliza to Wivin, and a stream of blood circled first into the device hidden in his vambrace. There, a living organism checked it for infection and pushed the blood further.

“Ah, the beautiful youth,” Ludwig said. “Back then, everything looked white and black; you either do something or you don’t, no nuance.”

“Back then?” Wivin asked.

“No, trainees, you have achieved something.” Augustus ignored the Trolls. “By your actions, a life was saved; through your quick thinking, you had denied the Chosen Prince a host of bodies. Who knows how strong he would’ve been had he merged with the workers?”

“Doesn’t seem like he is any weaker now,” Elina said.

“Snap out of depression, Trainee Vincent. It is a pleasant drink, but poisonous to boot. Keep indulging in it, and then you’ll truly lose at life,” Augustus chastised her. “Think. Thanks to your coordinated efforts, our allies have learned of the Chosen Prince’s and Numbers’ alliance. The monster itself is being hunted early. Can you imagine if he had time to sneak away and rebuild his army or fix his mess of a body? The Numbers have suffered enough losses; their contacts will soon be exposed, and any further operations in these lands will be crippled. You have done enough to rescue the lives of others and your comrades. No man can bear the burden of the entire world on his back. Let go of defeatist thoughts and focus on living and helping your friends.”

“We may come into this world alone, girl,” Wivin said. She nodded at the raging battle. “But we don’t live alone. There is no shame in asking for help. We’ve done our part. The president will do his.”

“Wise words, countymeister.” Ludwig bowed his head. “It will be my greatest honor to help you overcome your flaw in poetry.”

“Soldier. Don’t you dare blackmail me,” Wivin warned him.

“There is no blackmail, ma’am. It says in the sacred text that no Grand Master will be found wanting in either spiritual or material matters…”

“I am no Grand Master! We specifically reorganized the chapter because no one could live up to his expectations.”

“Semantics, countymeister. You command a force greater than that of some Grand Masters. As a representative of the illustrious Avengers, as our noble leader who guides us to understanding and nudges us toward learning, it is your solemn duty to master the art of poetry,” Ludwig said in his calm voice.

“Once the crisis is over, once our fallen are mourned, buried, and their names are immortalized, once we restore order, replenish our forces, and do our duty, then I may consider your offer, landkomptur,” Wivin said.

“Sooner, ma’am. A crusader’s duty is never done, and yet your status demands an appropriate contribution,” Ludwig insisted.

Elina let the two bicker like an old couple, and she felt a little better. Prior to her first meeting with Eight, she had her entire life planned out. Study in the Academy and earn the right to use the power freely. Then get an assignment at some embassy, for they often hire explorators for jobs. There is a whole slew of explorators who never set foot in ruins and work in the field, helping ambassadors build relationships with the locals. Or, failing that, join a private security agency and protect one of the corporations’ assets far from Iterna’s natural borders. Both options offered a very cushy payment and access to better gear than that of a regular grunt. Not to mention meeting interesting people all over the globe.

Then she lost her way and sank in self-hatred, desperately making wrong moves, lashing out at others, trying to make them strong and hurting Eliza. Elina desperately wanted to grow stronger so no one else could ever hurt her or those under her command, giving up her former dreams. She had a self-flagellating need to be punished for the “failure” during their battle against Eight. Headmaster Torosian and her family helped her, and Elina took the second chance. A ghost of that time still nagged her, trying to guilt-trip her conscience into thinking that she should be stronger and more perfect to ensure that none of her friends would ever be hurt.

Except it was bullshit. No one is perfect. Yes, she needs to study and get better. And get stronger. And get Rowen in shape. Her friends needed her here and now. Who knows what problems Vasily and Eliza will have to deal with when they recover? She needs to be by their side as they were by hers.

Augustus is right. Her friends need her. She needs her friends. They have achieved what they could do. Feeling down won’t help anyone. Elina accepted a cloak from an Avenger and covered the wounded with it. It was time to make plans about the future again and take steps to make her goal a reality. Others may call her a coward, but there’s no way she’ll ever fight an S-Class Abnormal. Abnormal or not, there are things in the world out of human reach.

They waited, shaking, afraid, and protected by the crusaders, until the first flying transports arrived from Stonehelm, bringing crews of medics and soldiers. Only later did Elina understand she didn’t say a single prayer for Lord Steward’s victory or the Chosen Prince’s demise. Death didn’t matter to her.