TARGET ACQUIRED:

Silence was beyond powerful. That, the absence of sound.

Mike laid on the ground. His ears ringing, being blown out from an enormous explosion. The concussion wave that had hit him as he stalked throughout the castle had rendered him unconscious for two minutes. Along with the bandages already covering his body, new cuts and abrasions from debris and glass shards littered his body. His crimson blood dripped to the floor. The blood was fresh, and he luckily hadn’t lost much. Still, with time he would soon find death.

Overcoming the phantom vibrations, the staff sergeant forced himself from the ground, using all his might to rest on his knees. Darkness flooded the edge of his vision, yet through a harrowing scream, he managed to throw himself awake by slamming his body into the stone wall next to him. The jolt of pain forced him to concentrate just enough to look at the large gaping hole no less than ten meters ahead of him.

He could just see the city beyond the castle walls. Amongst the golden hue of the morning sky and the distant reflection of the deep blue ocean, smoke and ashes rose from strongholds across the capital. Buildings were flattened and crushed. The smell of iron, fluttering snowflakes and dust remained heavy in the flowing ocean breeze.

Mike could just barely see past the cloud surrounding him. Smoke? No, steam. He could feel it on his skin. The warmth of vaporized water.

Mustering strength, the Ranger pushed himself upon his feet. Once landing squarely on his boots, he was met with the nauseating stench that emanated from fifteen corpses ahead of him. Poor bastards… He thought to himself as he set his sights on charred skin and eviscerated corpses. The opposition, or once great defenders, had long passed under the single detonation of a high explosive, anti-personnel, airburst, steam-based precision munition. To say the men had been dissolved was an apt description. It was by miracle that Mike only suffered minor wounds, however, left untreated they would catch up to him.

Was he the only one alive?

Clutching the bruises that had formed up his legs, arms and chest, Mike was quickly able to identify that he had a broken rib. The burning sensation whenever he breathed was more than enough evidence. Working through the agonizing bolt of lightning, Mike withdrew his revolver one final time. The once sleek, silver exterior had been changed with gun smoke residue, dust, and caked with a layer of dried blood in which Mike wasn’t sure if it was his own or someone else’s.

“You! You are a Reclaimer!”

The man calling out to Mike was of great importance. With a hybrid of clothing, a mixture of the classic black suit, and a silver sash on the chest, a chestnut-brown haired man tore through Mike’s soul with burning ruby eyes.

“One of the princess’s Holy Knights! You ruined everything!”

Reaching behind his back, the man withdrew a short silver dagger.

Wheezing as he stood tall, Mike pulled the trigger on the revolver. He raised an eyebrow as only the cylinder moved.

The staff sergeant let out a low chuckle. He placed the revolver into its holster. “You’re lucky I trained with the Marines,” With a shallow breath he raised both fists, concealing and covering his face. Placing his left foot forward, the Ranger awaited the moment for the man to attack.

“Arrogant, like all the others!”

Flashing forward, crossing the distance behind them in the blink of an eye, the man lunged directly at Mike’s neck with his dagger. Pivoting on his foot and guiding the man’s arm with his left hand, the Ranger was just able to avoid a glancing blow and then took control of the immediate duel. Grabbing behind the man’s neck, he threw the assailant to the right throwing him off balance. “What’s your name?” Mike questioned. The man wasn’t royalty, neither was he an officer.

Staggering onto the wall, and catching himself, the man let out a short cough as he turned around. “Orpheus.” He answered with hatred overcoming his expression. Rubbing his thumb on the spine of the blade, Orpheus blinked forward once more aiming to pierce Mike’s abdomen. Pushing the arm upwards, the staff sergeant grabbed Orpheus’s wrist and hand, hyperextending it and forcing the man to lose grip of his knife sending it to the burnt carpet below their boots.

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With a sneering smile, Orpheus punched Mike in the face. Immediately following the blunt force hit, he grabbed the Ranger by the neck and swept his legs throwing him onto the ground with great force. Hooking his left leg around Orpheus’s right, Mike lunged up and grabbed the man’s face slamming it to the ground ignoring the searing pain in his chest. Shot-after-shot, Mike threw punches at the man, yet all were intercepted or made to mere glancing blows. Lifting his hips and placing his boot square on the Ranger’s chest, Orpheus kicked the man off sending him back onto the ground.

Reaching into his coat and withdrawing the standard, M-45 knife he was issued, Mike recovered onto his feet holding the silver blade and his chest.

“Senator!”

Five troopers from the royal guard rushed out from an adjacent hall. Armed with muskets, the cold steel barrels were aimed square at Mike, who now, was showing his minor annoyance with both his wounds and the constant engagements where he was outnumbered and outgunned.

“It was always you, Randall!”

Mike let out a steady breath. He stared at each of the barrels pointed at him.

“You are the Architect’s gift… a gift of both life and destruction.” Adjusting his suit, Orpheus stared Mike down. The predator, and his prey. “Gifts of creation! That is the Architect’s purpose. You were a conduit, one for nothing but death!”

“Gentlemen! Let us get a move on, Princess Leccamaradel will soon try to reclaim the throne!” Orpheus cried as two of the men lowered their weapons and began to drag the man back into the hall. “Randall, we are both demons! Humanity will always thirst for blood!”

The knight captain of the Royal Guardsmen watched Mike with silent eyes as he remained in place. Lowering his knife and sparing a nod of the head, the captain turned around and rendezvoused with his troopers deeper in the castle.

NOT FOR HONOR:

“Princess, your time to shine.”

“Indeed,” She stifled a laugh, “There isn’t much else less to do. Thank you for helping me prepare for the coronation. I don’t know what I would’ve done by myself.”

“Don’t worry. I know you’re more than capable.” A short pause. “Either way, I’ll be waiting alongside the others.” With the briefest of kisses, the calming voice, sensation left her and disappeared behind the nearest corner.

“See you later…”

With the slimmest of smiles, the princess of the kingdom turned around, continuing back to her rightful place on the throne.

Along the eastern wall of the castle, the defensive perimeter hastily established by the Royal Guard and Army reserve troopers had all but fallen.

The control point within the walls had fallen to paratroopers from the 33rd Airborne Company. The Federation Para-Jumpers had cut the head off the snake and dissolved any meaningful resistance that Yondel could muster. The first major firefights had broken out in the courtyards just outside of the palace. A trifecta of crossfire from guns, magic, and the sharpened blades of Princess Leccamaradel’s “Phantoms”.

Pulling his scarf closer around his face, Captain Orwell stepped out from a cloud of thick ash and smoke. Though the embers from fires around the capital were searing to the touch, the senior officer still felt cold under both the burning sun and the crumbling nation. From the cover of a ruined building, the captain peered across the large accessway to the main gate to the castle. From the shard of glass, he was able to see patrols on heightened alert. Mixture of both the past and future, weapons that well surpassed that of the silver blade were deployed. With luck he would be able to locate the garrison commander. However, as a familiar silver color settled next to him, it was best to stay on the primary objective. “Yondel is a big place. Over 8,000 live in the city alone.” He calmly said, hiding from the cold.

Lecca tilted her head. “The people were lucky to have warning of the attack. We need more intel before we confront the king.”

“Be prepared to use your nullification.” Orwell warned, eyeing the insignia on the flags in the crossing.

Just sitting across from the captain, Leccamaradel had a clear view to the eviscerated wall of the castle. She couldn’t see through the heavy smog and smoke that followed the detonation, yet she could only pray that her agents inside, that Mike wasn’t harmed. Laying as nothing but a shallow feeling, Lecca barely mustered a smile. The fight, once against the ‘Demon Lord’ had come full circle. And she could not recognize the clearly defined lines of war.

Orwell paused. He moved away from the window and withdrew his blood-stained sword. “I will act as a diversion, princess.” A frustrated sigh escaped his lips.

“Captain—” Lecca tried to argue.

“Our men are pulling all resistance away from the castle. I have a man inside to handle the Royal Guard, so interference will not be a variable.” He secured his scarf around his shoulder and neck. “We are doing this to return peace not only to the kingdom, but to the wider world. One of the knights you met during the Bishmark incident, Marco, will be inside. Find him, and he’ll lead you directly to the king.”

Taking three steps back, Orwell left no room for further words as he broke the sound barrier and smashed the shattered window into millions of shards. Alerted to his presence, the soldiers on the ground withdrew their weapons and moved into defensive postures around the senior officers and the stores of equipment in the yards. As the captain removed his blade from its first victim, a thunderous explosion came from the cloudy heavens above.

A single shell caused chaos.