Amidst the hungry cold of night, I scuttled across the battlefield, nearly running on all fours to make myself invisible within the coiling mists.
Officer Mara's necklace and a little bit of caution had turned the once-harrowing night phase of battle into an opportunity… or a crippling burden.
It was hard to see in the dark. Mana sharpened my vision, but even it had limits. Beyond my immediate surroundings, the world was a cold inky void.
But I didn't need my eyes to do my job.
One thing I had learnt since doing this, dying men loved to talk.
They spoke their final words to the cold and the dark, as if desperate to be heard, even if it was only to death's scythe.
Yet this time, someone else was listening, hearing their final words.
And then rejecting them.
Because only by my permission, could death lay its filthy hands.
"Coralie… I'm sorry…" A soft voice croaked from the abyss.
My head snapped in that direction. 'Found you.'
The soldier was half-buried in the earth, his severed arm lying somewhere in the mud, blood gushing from the wound.
It was a miracle he was still alive.
But that wasn't what made me freeze.
His armor. White and red.
'A rebel.'
Dark, unfocused eyes locked onto mine, filled with weak desperation. "H-help me… please… I don't want to die… I-I'm scared…" His voice was hoarse, almost delirious.
I pulled out a dagger I had fashioned from a broken spear. He had to die.
Being wounded didn't change anything.
I wish it did.
I wished that injuries excused a soldier from war, and that they could simply leave this place. Returning to the peace of their lives before this hellhole.
But that wasn't how this world worked.
An enemy was an enemy. Morality, humanity, none of it mattered. The day compassion could stop a sword to the throat, was the day it mattered.
'If only thinking that…made it any easier.'
"Where does she live?"
The rebel's eyes flickered to me. "Who?"
"Coralie…"
A foolish smile softened his pale face. "She lives in Sherwood… the most beautiful girl in the…" His words faded into breathy whispers.
I smiled softly, slowly approaching. "Tell me more."
His gaze drifted to the stars. He tried to speak, but his voice was too faint.
I flicked my dagger—across my palm. Blood welled, and I held my hand to his lips, letting him drink.
Just enough to slow his bleeding, to keep him talking.
He drank instinctively, not even realizing what he was doing.
His voice steadied.
"Her eyes… colour like oak, large and round as the moon. Skin like sun-kissed bronze. And her hair… the most beautiful I've ever seen. It's like a…thick waterfall of midnight, with small jewels adorning it. Like a starry sky…."
"Go on," I encouraged softly.
"Her temper is like fire." The rebel chuckled weakly. "Dangerous… but I guess that's part of the charm."
I laughed gently, pressing the dagger lightly against his throat. "She must've made your life interesting."
"She did…." His laughter carried into the night—light, happy, hauntingly out of place in this world of death.
Then it stopped, turning into a gurgled choke.
Blood pooled around my blade as his body went still.
He died smiling.
I hope that he had been too delirious to realise what was happening.
That in his final moments, his mind had been completely lost in thoughts of his Coralie, to even realise that he was dying.
Exhaling softly, I looked up to the night sky, as if hoping to see what he had. "If I ever pass by Sherwood…I'll let her know your last words. At the very least…she'll get closure. That I promise."
Closing his unseeing eyes, much in the same way I had done for Sera, I turned away.
'I hate this fucking place.'
It wasn't long before I heard another voice—a muttering soldier. My heart pounded as I slowly approached, praying that his armor wouldn't be white and red.
It was an older man. Hair peppered grey and gray eyes sunken with exhaustion.
And he was one of ours.
His eyes widened in recognition. "You? What the hell are you doing here?"
I crept closer. "Where are you injured?"
The old man snarled. "Don't you fucking ignore me! What're you doing here? You a spy? That it?"
I blinked, stunned with his tone. "Are you crazy? You think if I was a spy, I'd be talking to your sorry wrinkled ass."
He hesitated. But his hostility didn't fade. "Then, what are you doing here?"
I almost laughed. "Cause I fucking love crawling through mud, you thick prick. I'm here to save your miserable, ungrateful life. Not that you deserve it."
His expression flickered. "You don't talk like a noble."
I scowled. "And you don't sound nearly fucking thankful enough. Tell me where you're hurt or I'll show you how much of a noble I can be."
He grimaced. "Spear wound in the back… I can't feel my legs."
"Lucky, then." I raised my bloody palm. "Drink."
"What? I ain't drinking that!"
I exhaled sharply, trying to maintain my composure. "You have two choices. Drink it, and by morning you can walk back and keep being a miserable bastard. Don't, and we'll all be free of you."
He hesitated.
I scoffed, my patience worn too thin. "Fine. I'll look forward to seeing you get trampled tomorrow. Make it a good show for me."
I was almost glad to leave him, hoping he wouldn't regret his decision as I moved away.
It was such a shame that someone like him had a chance at living, only because his armour wasn't white and red.
If there hadn't been a war, If I hadn't had to do it. I would've chosen the other person in a heartbeat.
"Wait! I'll do it!" He gulped, and for a moment I was able to see the fear behind the charade of anger.
'Even old men still cling to life huh?'
I pressed my palm to his lips. He drank, grimacing. A moment later, his eyes widened.
Tears welled in his eyes.. "I… I can feel my legs."
"Wait till morning then retreat. Don't go any earlier or the Mages from both sides will blast you to pieces."
'Not that I'd particularly mind.'
I turned, already searching for my next victim of this damn soft heart of mine.
—
When dawn crept over the horizon, I stumbled back to camp.
My limbs felt heavier than they should've. The exhaustion was catching up, mana surge growing weaker, its effects more fleeting.
But how could I sleep, knowing that for every hour I rested, someone was bleeding out alone in the dark?
Whispering their final goodbyes.
'I refuse to lose to death.'
Collapsing onto my bed, I waited for a moment. Then, I released mana surge.
Exhaustion hit like a freight train and within seconds I was sleeping.
———————————————
"Arthur, get up."
A hand shook my shoulder.
Noah's voice.
I struggled to open my eyes. My body refusing to move, it felt like I had been tied down by invisible weights.
Staying conscious to even hear him was talking all the willpower I had.
'Mana Surge.'
The exhaustion lifted slightly receding as mana flooded my system. Yet it was still there, lurking behind my eyes, waiting for the slightest blip.
Noah frowned, his eyes two green narrow slits, "You alright?"
I forced a nonchalant shrug. "Yeah. I'm fine."
—
I was fighting again.
Spear spinning, striking, killing. A soldier charged—wild, reckless.
I deflected his attack, then buried my blade in his neck. Another lunged. I swung the spear's butt into his throat, knocking him back before thrusting forward, piercing his chest.
His blood splattered across my face. Some of it got in my mouth.
It had a nasty metallic tang.
'I'm tired.'
—
Keeping my head low, I scampered across the battlefield, the moonlight casting long, eerie shadows over the dead and dying. My breath came in short, ragged gasps, my legs weak beneath me.
But I pressed on. There were still half-dead men out here—men I could drag back from the edge.
I stumbled upon a rebel boy. He had to be older than me, yet he looked so much younger. His face was pale, eyes wide, shimmering with unshed tears. A jagged hole gaped in his chest, blood pooling beneath him, dark and thick.
"P-please…" he croaked, his gaze locking onto mine, desperate.
I knelt beside him, my dagger already in my grip. "Any last words?"
He hesitated, his lips trembling. Then, in a voice cracking with fear, he whispered, "I'm scared of dying."
I smiled. "Don't be. I've died twice. Both times, I was treated quite hospitably."
He blinked. Then, to my surprise, he smiled softly back.
That's when I slit his throat.
At the exact moment when he was about to laugh, the fear in his eyes dulled, not as sharp as it would have been had he been left to bleed out alone.
Sighing I rose back to my feet. "I'm too tired for this shit."
---
I was fighting again.
No sleep. No rest.
That was my own fault for returning too late to fit a couple hours in.
My spear spun in my hands as I took on a soldier, one who, like me, enhanced his body with mana. But he was faster, sharper, stronger than I was.
It didn't matter.
Kicking up dirt with the butt of my spear, I thrust forward the instant he flinched, slipping the spearhead through the chink in his armour and piercing his throat.
'I'm so tired.'
---
Night fell again.
My body throbbed with exhaustion. Mana Burst wasn't working as well anymore. The haze in my mind was growing thicker, harder to push through.
'I won't be able to keep this up much longer.'
But I kept going anyway.
'I refuse to lose to death.'
Because anytime I dared to think about stopping, Sera's lifeless corpse would flash through my mind. Joined by countless others, whose final expressions had forever joined the haunting collection in my mind.
'I'm so tired.'
---
I fought again.
Slower this time. Sluggish. My limbs dragged like they were weighed down by chains.
'So tired…'
---
Another night.
'So… tired…'
---
Another fight.
'So tired…'
---
'Tired…'
---
'Tired…'
---
'...….'
---
'…'
—-
'..'
——
I moved reactively, every action calculated to conserve what little energy I had left. Mana Burst was fully activated, but even that wasn't enough anymore. My arms felt like lead, my head stuffed with cotton.
I was too slow.
Too heavy.
A soldier charged at me, sword raised high.
I knew what to do—deflect, unbalance him, strike. It was instinct.
Instead, I barely dodged stumbling backwards, tripping over my own feet.
The sword whistled past, cutting air where my throat had been a second ago.
I swung my spear to counter, but it was swatted aside with ease.
Pivoting, I barely got out of the way of another slash. Then, with no better option, I dropped my spear, slamming my fist in his face.
My knuckles sunk into his knees, breaking it.
His eyes watered as the rebel staggered..
I lunged, scooping up my spear, striking, striking, striking—until he crumpled.
"Haah… I need to rest."
Then I laughed as I said some sort of joke.
'As if.'
Turning, I threw myself deeper into the chaos.
During the battle, my eyes landed on a small boy. Young. Barely clothed in rags, no armor to protect him. And he looked…
Familiar?
A cold, sharp dread crawled up my spine.
"No," I breathed. "Please no…you couldn't have been that stupid."
I stumbled, my balance wavering.
I had promised to talk to him, to stop him. But, i'd been so caught up in my own little crusade, I had forgotten.
The boy weaved through the battlefield, unarmed. A small cloth sack clutched in his hands. He was searching—for the wounded.
"No… Marsh."
I found my feet, forcing myself forward with sheer will. He wasn't built for this. He'd die within moments.
Then I saw past him, and my heart stopped.
'No...'
A MageKnight.
Runes glowing across his armour, power rippling in his hands as he charges straight towards Marsh.
"MAAARSHH!!!" I screamed, but my voice was lost in the storm of battle.
I poured everything into Mana Surge, pushing it beyond my limits, until my body trembled under the strain.
I shot forward, weaving between soldiers. I had to reach him. I had to—
The world spun.
My legs gave out.
'Huh?'
A notification flashed in my vision.
[MANA EXHAUSTED!!! DEACTIVATING SKILL: MANA SURGE]
'No!'
Gritting my teeth, I clawed at the ground, crawling when I realised I was too weak to stand up. Exhaustion filled my veins, my limbs turning into dead weight.
Marsh still hadn't noticed the danger. He turned, eyes widening—
The MageKnight reached him.
"No," I rasped, struggling to keep my eyes open.
My mouth opened to scream, but nothing came out.
Too late.
Deep down I had known that this would happen. That I would pay the price for pushing my body too far, too often.
'But it's meant to be me...I should be paying for that mistake.'
But the world didn't care.
My eyelids finally betrayed me, and darkness crept in, swallowing me whole, dragging me under.
And I sank into it, sobbing.