The crimson centipede flew into the ring, and the midnight-blue phantom quickly followed.

The two Reiters took divergent paths, with Spindrift taking a direct approach toward the main threat. Zelen’s route was more meandering, drawing a wide arc along the edges of the quarry, and constantly shifting his positions to stay out of the centaur’s line of sight.

His progress was impeded also by the Brutuses, who lined themselves up along the terraces and fired at will. In his current configuration, the only ways for Zelen to deal with them were the rockets from RS [BOMBARDIER], launched as soon as they came off cooldown. Occasionally, a Brutus unit would be foolish enough to stand in his flight path. These he was more than happy to cut down with [GLADIUS].

Through it all, updates streamed in from Silon.

AU at 65%, ER at 50. Careful, Kingfisher. Your Energy Reserves are decreasing at a higher than expected rate. Perhaps it’s that Psychic disturbance I alluded to earlier?

There she went again with this so-called Psychic disturbance. Try as he might, Zelen couldn’t pinpoint this alleged defect within himself. If anything, he felt more focused than he could ever remember—even more than during yesterday’s Voras fight.

It was as if a path—the correct answer—had been revealed to him. As he continued on his meandering flight deeper and deeper into the heart of the quarry, he had no doubt that what awaited him there was victory.

100 metres to the unidentified enemy unit. Time to make your move, Kingfisher.

And just as well, for the centaur’s right arm had just fired off a charge of its energy beam. In the distance, the crimson frame of Spindrift dodged this deftly, before answering with a round from [WINCHESTER].

One of the centaur’s arms was on cooldown, leaving just the left arm—and its hitherto unused weapon—to contend with. Zelen knew not what trick this centaur still had up its obsidian sleeve, but his focus on the mission—conviction in his victory—never wavered.

Maximum forward thrust. Eyes only on the four-legged monster—on its left arm that now glowed white-red with danger.

LS [AEGIS]. Zelen’s world was a blue sphere that surfed upon waves of red malice. The edges of this sphere rippled under the force of the centaur’s attack, then held. For three seconds, Zelen would be safe. Three seconds to manifest the victory that felt so certain in his mind.

Beyond the haze of clashing red-and-blue was an ambiguous joint that fused the centaur’s armament to the rest of its body. RA [GLADIUS] sliced through this joint, and the white-red shockwave died off in a burst of smoke and molten metal.

Then Zelen came face to face with the barrel of the laser cannon, even now glowing red and charging its next shot. Perhaps a shade under a second of [AEGIS] still remained, but Zelen wasn’t about to chance it. Not when victory was so close.

He ducked under the cannon and slid along the ground, using a combination of forward and lateral thrusters to keep himself aligned with the centaur’s arm. And just as the cannon chased shadows with its final round, LA [GLADIUS] shot up through the joint that formed its base.

Now the severed ends of the centaur’s arms rolled onto the ground: naked and harmless. The centaur wasn’t yet completely defanged, however, and the protrusions on its back sparked anew with more ordnances that spewed into the air.

Zelen backthrust out of the way with casual poise, knowing his role in the fight was already over.

Sure enough, a crimson Eidolon entered the picture again, so quickly as to give the illusion that it’d timed its move with Zelen’s second cut. Of course, that was no illusion at all.

For in this moment, Spindrift was [THE INEVITABLE].

The giant hammer of [MJOLNIR] flew unimpeded toward the centaur’s frame. The impact produced yet another shockwave—shimmering blue this time—along with a deafening clap of thunder.

When the smoke cleared, the centaur knelt in a molten heap, with the tumours on its back now leaking out nothing more the Syntropy’s charred innards. Only its monocular optic still shone from the deformed remains of its face, now vacillating between the two Eidolons that had hunted it down.

Then the older hunter signalled to his younger partner.

“I’ll clean up what’s left of the Brutuses,” Spindrift radioed. “You finish this one off.”

Zelen turned to his team leader in surprise, knowing full well the implications behind this latest order.

“Are you sure?”

“Don’t make me repeat myself. You earned it.”

Spindrift took off without waiting for another response, his [WINCHESTER] already pointed and firing toward the nearest straggler.

By then, both of Zelen’s [GLADII] were back online. He activated both arms in a criss-cross pattern, leapt up, and uncrossed the blades clean through the base of the centaur’s SPU. Decapitated head rolled onto the ground to join severed arms. Then the red of its optic faded in short order.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Was the finisher needlessly theatrical? 100%. Yet Zelen felt not an iota of embarrassment and only the savage satisfaction of victory. Moreover, an unseen anger roiled beneath the edges of his consciousness and told him that, after all that had happened, this was a fitting end to the four-legged monster he’d just slain.

After all what had happened?

Regardless, his Spiegel for one didn’t seem to hold the theatrics against him.

Unidentified enemy unit eliminated, Silon announced in her usual monotone. The kill has been awarded to Kingfisher. And—yes, your ER has stabilized as well at 33%. You had me concerned for a moment, Kingfisher.

Zelen breathed hard, suddenly aware of the toll the battle had taken on his body and mind. There was a lot for him to process, but he chose to first focus on the kill itself.

The first confirmed kill of a new unit—big or small, menace or pushover—was always worth 20 points toward the kill count. After that, the points were tiered based on the perceived danger of the unit and therefore the value of its destruction. Bigger brains than his were in charge of these decisions, but if Zelen were a betting man, he’d expect all subsequent kills of the centaur to net five points each.

It was no small gesture for Spindrift to have stepped aside and let Zelen have this kill. To be sure, the killingest Reiter in history didn’t need to pad his numbers, but the fact remained that kill count was—rightly or wrongly—the first parameter any Akropolitan looked to in measuring the worth of a Reiter. In letting Zelen take the kill, Spindrift had effectively lowered himself to prop up his junior.

Zelen continued to discover that there was more to Makiri Shiranui than met the eye. And yet… there was something more, wasn’t there? Something he seemed to be forgetting…

Kingfisher, your ER just ticked down by another percent. Are you sure you’re alright?

“Yes, I’ve told you, I’m fine,” Zelen snapped, tempers flaring out of nowhere. And this he knew was conclusive evidence he wasn’t alright. At least not fully. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t yell. I know you’re only looking out for me.”

There’s no need to apologize, Kingfisher. You’re a Reiter, and I’m your Spiegel. You have every right to—

“Zelen.”

Kingfisher?

“No, call me Zelen. From now on, when we’re on our private channel, just call me Zelen.”

I’m not sure about this, Kingfisher. Convention dictates that—

“To hell with convention. I’m a Reiter, you’re my Spiegel. And out here on the battlefield, when no one else is listening, we call each other by our names. Don’t ask me why I suddenly feel so strongly about this, but… it just feels right.”

A pause. Even a Spiegel could be stumped into silence if her Reiter were strongheaded enough.

It might take some getting used to, Kingfisher, but I will do my best to comply.

“There are things even Spiegels find difficult?”

If the task deviates enough from our training.

“Also, could you not say comply? It sounds like I’m coercing you. I’m asking, partner to partner. Let’s call each other by our names, hm?”

If that’s what you want, Kingfisher, I will do my best to… conform.

Zelen had to laugh at that. It felt good to laugh. Even while standing next to the charred carcass of his slain enemy. No, especially after a victory he himself had engineered.

Wasn’t that right?

Kingfisher?

“Yes, Silon?”

Your ER just went down again. 30% now.

Zelen had to sigh. “I think I’m just tired, Silon. It was a… short but difficult fight.”

It was, wasn’t it? You did well, Kingfisher. You and Spindrift both.

“Thank you. I mean it. I’m not sure why exactly, but hearing you say that means a lot to me.”

Anytime, Kingfisher.

A pause on Zelen’s end. Spindrift entered the frame again, evidently having made short work of what few Brutus units had remained. The older Reiter now circled the area around the centaur’s carcass, scanning for the Anamnium pod that awaited retrieval.

“Is this normal, Silon?”

Is what normal?

“This… feeling. Like I won, but also lost at the same time. Maybe not the fight. But… something important all the same.”

ER at 29%. Perhaps, Kingfisher, we could take up this discussion again when we’ve returned to base?

“I knew exactly why I was angry at the Voras yesterday. How I saw it as the object of my revenge. I know it was the wrong way to look at things, to approach a battle, but at least it was clear to me why I felt that way. But this… today…”

ER at 28%. I need you to stop, Kingfisher. The battle is over. The fight is won. You need to stop this.

“I don’t know why I was so fucking angry at this centaur! Yes, it’s Syntropy. Yes, it’s my job to exterminate every one of them I see, but this… this was different. This was personal. Is this… is this just who I am now? Like that boy… like Captain Vasseur’s son… Am I just going to keep taking my revenge on every Syntropy I see, and never stop until… until…”

The Meridians are the branches upon which Life blooms.

“What?”

Say it with me, Kingfisher. The Meridians are the branches upon which Life blooms.

“Come on, Silon, you can’t just distract me with this anytime I—”

I can, and I will. The Meridians are the branches upon which—

“Fine, fine!”

Begrudgingly, sullenly, and at the behest of his taskmaster of a Spiegel, Zelen once more recited the strange poem he'd learned only yesterday. He’d thought his anger too great and righteous to dissipate with a simple party trick, yet before long, most of the anger did fade, to be replaced by a serene sort of bemusement.

“I just don’t get it, Silon. It’s not even a good poem, is it?”

I can’t comment on the subjective merits of a work of literature, but it does appear that both you and Spindrift resonate with this poem on a deeper level.

“…I’m sorry, Silon. For taking my shit out on you, again. It’s just me coping poorly, and I shouldn’t drag you into this.”

You’re wrong, Kingfisher.

“What do you mean?”

I’m your Spiegel. Whatever angers you, whatever vexes you, whatever shit you’re going through, it’s my job to share the burden. But I will say this. A mirror is only useful insofar as a Reiter uses it to see into his own reflection. Please don’t forget that, Zelen. Whenever you’re lost, look at me to find yourself again.

Silence. Light. The Nexus and everything therein.

Zelen wished very much he was back on base then, so he could be out of his Nexa-Suit, with his hands free to wipe away the tears that streaked his face. As absurd as it was, and even after what Silon had just told him, he didn’t wish for his Spiegel to see him cry.

“Thanks, Silon,” he muttered, wearing a smile that only his mirror could see. “I’ll try to remember.”