Avalel closes his eyes, entrusting all to the Anapadeia. It’s strange, really. This sword, this tool of destruction that brought him so much pain… Why is it that, again and again, he is relying on its power? What irony.

He feels his body moving, flowing like a graceful stream of water yet with the strength of a waterfall. The squeals of the beams when they graze the metal blade of the sword, the jerking of his neck as he ducks, feeling the heat just speed past his head, the rapid parries, each slashing the air itself. But this is only the beginning.

Jumping up, he opens his arms, his cracked, bloody armor a splotch of red in the sheet of the dark night sky. Raising the Anapadeia high, the sword shines with a furious intensity before he thrusts it upon the ground. Night turns to day. Black turns to white. For a moment, all is still, as if everything is frozen in time.

Then, it resumes. He hears the clear shrieks of beams firing at him, smoke clouding his view, yet no smell reaches his nose. The footsteps of his comrades clamoring, climbing up from the corridor. Even in all this chaos, he hears the soft hum of energy around him, like a shell encasing him. There’s all the sounds of warfare, yet he doesn’t smell or feel anything.

He carefully opens his eyes. What… In front and around him lies a barrier with thin strings tied to the sword. A simple surface of energy, it wraps itself around him, leaving only a small gap behind. Although the beams create ripples in the barrier, they are merely absorbed into it, like drops of water in a pond. He could barely make out the smoke and dust behind the barrier, but it is like a screen, completely separating him from the enemy. It’s just like that barrier Dad made…

Focus, young one, the spirit warns, You can’t maintain the barrier for long in this state.

What do you mean?

Suddenly, he feels his hands freeze, his heartbeat rapidly increasing, and he begins to break into a sweat. The giant barrier begins to falter, thinning and shrinking, breaking under the pressure of the thousands of beams exploding against it.

Leave now. You’ve held for long enough.

Avalel releases the Anapadeia from the ground. Immediately, the barrier crumbles, exploding into thousands of sparks. A beam grazes his forearm, and he winces, dashing to a nearby pile of rubble. Nearby, the smoldering remains of an aircraft heats his body, warming him in the cold weather.

This is different, he thinks, Why am I still conscious? By now, the smoke had cleared, the confused enemy soldiers cautiously walking forward with their weapons slightly lowered. He stares at the Anapadeia, the blade still glowing with a dim light.

So you realized, the spirit says.

This is unlike the Anapadeia’s nature.

Of course. That’s because I wasn’t “controlling” you.

Wait… The swift movements, the masterful evasions, even the barrier… It was all from my own power?

You wish to use your own power, don’t you? You just weren’t tapping into your potential. A lie like this can work once, but no more. It’s all up to you, young one.

You’re a complete mystery.

“Paial, are you there?” a crackling voice interrupts their conversation. Looking to his right, Avalel finds a helmet, the sound emitting from the comms. Nearby, a soldier lay lifeless, his hand glued to his pike.

“Paial, can you hear me?” the sound calls out again in worry. Reluctantly, Avalel reaches and picks up the helmet, just distancing his mouth from the dirt-filled comms.

“Oh, finally he picked up! Paial, how’s the situation over there? Is everyone alright? I saw a great flash of light earlier!”

“I’m not Paial,” Avalel blurts.

The comms suddenly go quiet for a moment. “What do you mean you’re not Paial? Isn’t this his comms, his helmet?”

“I’m a fellow soldier retreating from the battlefield,” Avalel explains, “I’m alone and I just happened to find this helmet by chance.”

“Do you know where Paial is, then?”

“What does he look like?”

“He’s a pikeman, wearing standard-issue armor. There’s a unique marking on the left shoulder plate.”

Avalel notices the dead soldier beside him. Flipping the corpse over, he finds the left shoulder plate painted with three broad strokes of black.

“The marking… It’s black and with three strokes, isn’t it?”

“... Yes. He’s dead, isn’t he?”

Another explosion, rubble flying everywhere. “Yes,” Avalel replies.

“I see.” Unlike the energetic and nervous voice earlier, the voice now is emotionless and tired, almost unwilling to speak. Suddenly, the sound of a deafening explosion from the comms blast in Avalel’s ears. He hears the screams of other soldiers, the familiar hail of rifle fire, before the comms abruptly go silent.

“Just when will this end?” Avalel sighs, standing up once again as the footsteps behind him approach closer. Let’s hope no blood spills on the sword, he thinks, looking at the clean blade of the Anapadeia. Taking a deep breath, he leaps out of the rubble, again attracting the attention of the enemy. An instinctive shot from an enemy soldier barely misses his cheek, singeing his hair. Dashing forward, he reaches the soldier, the Anapadeia placed at his neck as many rifles simultaneously point at him.

“Surrender,” one of them demands. Yet within that tone of ferocity, Avalel could feel a sense of uncertainty and fear, as if they are facing something completely out of this world.

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He takes a deep breath. “No.”

The next moments are simply chaos. Slash, bang, stab… the flashes of light overwhelm their eyes, to the point that they might as well be fighting blind. Duck, dash, jump… instinct takes over, dodging and parrying attacks with increasing speed. Still, all this time, his eyes are open, his mind fully conscious. This is unlike training with Kavlina… I can see everything clearly. He jumps up, weaving through the hail of beams before slipping behind a lone pillar, the single remnant of a bunker. But the wound from earlier… he thinks, looking at the burnt flesh of his arm.

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” he hears an enemy soldier applaud. Taking a peek, he realizes the soldier had taken off her helmet, revealing a handsome but scarred face. She raises her hand, and as if seeing a command, the other soldiers lower their weapons and relax their guard.

“Thank you,” Avalel replies, catching his breath.

“You could’ve killed us earlier,” she continues, “Why didn’t you?”

“I’m merely a diversion,” Avalel states.

“A fine one, if I must say so. It would be a shame if you had died on this battlefield. Surrender to us. Your job is done.”

Smiling, Avalel emerges, concealing the Anapadeia as he walks towards the enemy, his hair ruffled by the dry air. Kavlina, Tarak, everyone in the squad… Perhaps it’ll be a short while before we meet again.

“Your name?” the soldier asks.

“Avalel. And yours?”

“Tanalien.”

Suddenly, they hear a shrill cry in the distance. Looking up, they see spheres of energy soaring overhead, leaving behind telltale streaks of light.

“Wait, they’re not supposed to fire an artillery barrage now…” the soldier’s words trail off as she realizes the trajectory of the barrage. As they look helplessly in horror, the light rapidly approaches closer, falling upon their heads.

A flash. The soldiers’ lives seem to replay before their minds, some collapsing onto their knees in fear, waiting for the inevitable. Yet even after many moments, they don’t feel any searing pain, only a sudden blackness in their covered vision. Slowly, they open their eyes. Around them is a great crater, dust and ash floating around in the air. Pockets of fire light up the area around them, yet none of them are as close as an arm’s length. Everything around them is completely pulverized, yet the ground they stand on is entirely unchanged. Only one person is missing amongst them: Avalel.

“What an interesting person,” Tanalien remarks, “May we meet again on the battlefield, Avalel.”

----------------------------------------

“The barrier’s erected!” Rasu shouts, leading the soldiers out of the ruined corridor.

Quickly, they scramble out into the surface. As they take a glance behind, they see the full majesty of the barrier, a wall of nearly pure light. At the center is Avalel, his figure composed like a cold unmoving statue, the Anapadeia firmly rooted in the ground.

“This power…” Rasu barely utters as they flee, “Thank you, Avalel.”

Darting through the rubble, they see the remnants of the guns, broken into scrap metal. Occasionally, a twitching hand would rise from the rubble, but reluctantly, they move on, ignoring the person underneath. The vast valley, once laid with so many fortifications, is now a wasteland of rock and metal. They can only hope that, beyond this battlefield, there lies some place to retreat to.

“Where are we going?” a soldier cries, closely following Rasu.

“I can’t reach the high command,” Rasu replies in frustration, “Anyone else try?”

“It’s not just you,” Tarak responds, “I believe the comms to the high command are completely cut off.”

“Not again…” Rasu mutters. Please let this not be a repeat of that disaster.

Above, the bare silhouettes of enemy aircraft fly overhead, dropping bombs at steady intervals. As the dirt and soil from the Pass crumble from the explosions, they bury some bunkers, and with it, the people within. If it were any other circumstance, their throbbing conscience would direct them to rescue the trapped, but here, where they can easily be the next… They can only retreat.

“Where are our own aircraft?” Evi shouts in anger, “Are the pilots asleep?”

“They shouldn’t be,” Rasu answers, “The only explanation is that they’re completely immobilized.”

“What is our high command doing? Are we really going to lose this battle in a single night? All this preparation and manpower only to be destroyed by our enemy?” Furious, she kicks a piece of rock, sending it far away.

“Calm down,” Tarak says, “We still don’t know how much of our defenses are destroyed.”

“Well, to be frank, we don’t even know how large our defenses were,” Rasu corrects, “We only arrived just before the night.”

“So what now?” Bairuel asks, “We know next to nothing about the layout of the defenses, nevermind in the chaotic state right now.”

“Actually,” a soldier pipes up, “I’ve been stationed here for a few months and know the layout quite well. If it is searching for an escape route, I think I can be of some help.”

“Perfect,” Rasu compliments, “Do you know where we are?”

As they halt, the soldier looks around. Despite the ruined landscape, he notices the silhouette of a still-intact building in the distance in front of them, a stark contrast to the expanse of broken rock and metal.

“We should be relatively close to the headquarters,” he says as he points to the building, “The easiest and most straightforward would be the Main Road, but… ”

“It’ll be a major target for the enemy,” Rasu finishes, “There would also be likely many other soldiers, and without a proper comms system, it’ll be very chaotic.”

“The Confederation sure put a lot of thought into this offensive,” Bairuel says.

“I still don’t understand how our comms with the high command could break down, though,” another soldier comments, “When I entered the military, I worked as a comms officer, delivering orders to soldiers at the front. The only possible way the comms could be cut is from sabotaging the heavily guarded central system, something that would be impossible unless… ”

“Unless?”

“Unless it was authorized from the inside.”

A sense of horrific realization descends on the small group. The success of the Confederation’s offensive should’ve been highly unlikely, if not impossible. From the voidal strike, the panic, the stampede, the immobilization of the air force, the breaking down of communication… all of this meticulous planning, only for the goal to completely destroy the New Rule.

“Only a genius could’ve pulled this off,” Rasu claps sarcastically, looking at the Confederation aircraft-infested sky, “Well done, Common Leader.”

A group of Confederation soldiers, perhaps a large company, appears from the rubble and surrounds them. Two armored vehicles block their front and back. Instinctively, the soldiers reach for their weapons, forming a ring as they are encircled.

A hatch opens from one of the armored vehicles and a tall man climbs up, pointing his sword at Rasu. “Surrender,” he demands.

“So you’re the commander,” Rasu grins, “My name is Rasu. Sadly, that will be the only thing you know about me.”

No sooner had Rasu finished his sentence, the man falls down the vehicle, his head cleanly detached. Shocked, the enemy soldiers attempt to fire their rifles, only to find it jammed. In the blink of their brief conversation, the tables have completely turned. One lone figure, an enemy pike in hand, replaces the dead man earlier in his position, a calm yet intimidating demeanor descending on all below.

“Even if we are to die,” Bairuel smiles, standing atop the vehicle, “Let’s die fighting rather than fleeing.”

How did he get up there? The soldiers wonder in fear and awe.

“Bairuel, you understand what to do?”

“Naturally, General.”

“No need to call me by that name. Everyone, try not to get in the way. We’re going to the headquarters. Alive.”