[Astrid's P.O.V]
I've always loved the silence. Ever since I was a child, I was a reserved and obedient student in school as well as at my uncle's house. I would play with my blocks alone, build sandcastles on the playground with my own sets of tools, and would rarely talk to other kids-well, except for a certain auburn fishbone. But I never mind being a closed-off loner. Plus, it helped me cope with my parent's deaths and the empty feeling in the house. Only then when I entered grade school did I start to realize that I was an extrovert and a pretty sociable person, where I started making more friends and seeking public activities because I found them fun, but never forgot my best friend, Hayden, who remained awkward and lanky all the way up until high school.
Much to my dismay yet enjoyment, he lost all his stuttering and nervous habits, and a confident, attractive man replaced in his stead. This was before I realized that I had a huge crush on him. At first, I thought I could just avoid him and revert back to my loner ways but I slowly realized that the only reason I loved the silence as a kid was because I had someone to share them with. Someone who experienced the same thing as me, if not worse. We would sit in the field, contemplating on random subjects and breathing in the fresh spring air. I felt stupid for ignoring Hayden just because I was experiencing my first love. I had to remind myself that this man had been with me through the silence for years and I had to make sure I welded that into my memories.
Silence always reminded me of Hayden, but not this time. As we sit behind the forest trees, peering through the sandy white beaches of Fólkvangr, the freezing cold sea washed over the shore like a Jötnar rampaging through Midgard during Ragnarok. The air fell into an eerie and suspenseful hush, the wind howling ominously that only added to the tension. The agents around me stiffened at the slightest sound; a simply twig snapping under our feet, leaves descending towards the ground, even our own misty breath that formed a cloud in front of our mouths sent shivers down their spine, and it's not because it's cold.
We had just arrived an hour ago, jumping out of the helicopter to join the rest of the division. They had already prepared a metallic spiked barricade across the edge of the forest, installing a few defensive contraptions along the trunks of the trees. They had even spread a few hidden traps under the sand, other than the invisible shield devices that had already been activated, the actual gadgets buried under the wet sand of the shore. Although the barrier is transparent, I could faintly see the outline of the energy shield reflecting through the stars and the moonlight, but I can't say the same for the enemy fleet.
People like to think that I rarely get scared, hence the nickname Fearless Hofferson, but I'm only great at hiding it and putting up a brave front. Most of the time, it's a good thing because battles like this would hurt the army's morale if they see their leaders' cowardice. But this time, even she couldn't stop the dread from crawling up her face once she saw the rows of weapons of mass destruction lining up over on the horizon. Pillars of pungent-coal smoke breathing out of the funnels of the ships. I could see the barrels of the artillery mounted on the metal beasts, just itching to launch a rain of havoc on the city.
I crouched down to blend with the tall grass and the bushes scattered around, mimicking the rest of the agents who already had their guns and weapons out, clutching it near their chests as if they served as their armor, despite them already being covered with SD-sewn suits[1]. The white-scale armor was highly-defined in their combat outfit, making it hard for them to blend in with the forest but as long as they have that armor on, their chances of death are significantly lower. Some donned a couple of Gronkle Iron armor, despite it being less durable but still stronger and lighter than most metal.
Although it's very durable and strong, it's quite heavy and it would slow down my mobility—which is my strongest suit. That's why mostly the men covered themselves entirely with the armor, while the women simply placed a few over their vital parts. If I'm going to rush into battle, I'm going to need every bit of my strength and speed to move around.
Copying the rest, I slipped Stormfly out of my waist and gripped it near my chest. The balance of the axe suited me perfectly, although I had to get used to its airy weight, and the DS amber[2] mixed in with the hickory-forged handle. Camilla crouched down beside me, pulling out her exceptionally sharp knives and holding them near her waist. Cutthroat is nowhere to be seen, but I reckon that he's up in the trees, waiting for the perfect time to jump on a couple of our enemies. After all, what's good of an assassin in the front ranks? Shatter was off on the other end, but due to his incredibly large frame that barely hid itself from the tree's trunk, I could definitely see him. With all the chains and piercings dangling along his body, picturing him sneaking from an enemy looked ridiculous.
But there's no way I'm going to admit that to his face. Other than the respect I have for him, it's not worth the trouble of finding out how serious is his anger. I've seen him use his chains and frankly, I like to keep my head attached to the rest of my body.
We were waiting for the signal. It was fairly quiet, except for a few agents running around to check on the equipment and the radio transmitters shutting off and on. But everyone here knows that the silence only adds to our nerves. The suspense floating in the air is so thick, I wonder if we can use it as our shield instead of the barrier. I've been in many battles, others stranger than the one I'm in right now. But I've never been this anxious during them. Maybe it's because we have no information or even the slightest bit of knowledge on who we're fighting. Either way, my guts tell me that this'll be a very tough battle to win, whether or not we had future knowledge about them—although it would make our jobs a little easier if we at least knew the name of our enemies.
I take a look at Camilla, seeing her expressing nothing but a cool feature on her face. There wasn't a hint of fear nor panic in her eyes. For some reason, I kinda felt envy towards her for being much more composed than me, the ex-general of Drakos who is supposed to live up to the name Fearless Hofferson.
"Hey, what's on your mind?" I whispered to her, hoping to strike up a conversation so that I could calm my nerves.
Camilla just shot me a quirked eyebrow, probably wondering why I wanted to talk now when back in the plane, I was adamant of even making a single noise. "Nothing much. Just waiting like the rest of us." She replied with a shrug.
The conversation ended as fast as it started. I stared out into the sea, watching the ships groan along the waters. Suddenly, a question entered my mind but I don't know if she's able to answer it. But I decided that it's a perfect way to start up the conversation once again. "Do you have any idea who they are?" It was a genuine question, but I doubt that Camilla would have the answer.
To my surprise, I was wrong.
The wild blonde's eyes fell on the floating figures in the sea. "Well, I think I have a general idea on who they are." She replied nonchalantly. "If I'm right, then they're called Slieknir or something. I'm not sure. I was pretty distracted trying to escape a bomb. But to elaborate, they're some sort of cult that lives off chaos and destruction. Their beliefs and ideals are both insane and... unfortunately logical."
My eyes widened at that. "Wh- what? Where did you get this from? I highly doubt that this one of your incredible guesses because that was far too strange to be a guess, even for you!" I replied, remembering the time she practically guessed my entire situation with Hayden without a single doubt.
Camilla rose an amused brow but replied with all seriousness. "I had a friend that's... pretty knowledgeable with their kind. Trust me, the way she explained it be told me enough that this whole thing..." She gestured around her. "...is totally different and frankly, more dangerous than we think."
"And you didn't think to tell any of this information to anyone?"
"There wasn't exactly enough time to tell. I only knew about it today and I only realized this now when I got a good look at the fleet. When I got back, you guys were already packing up for war. So, excuse me for feeling just as confused as you are." She replied sardonically, causing me to cringe a little.
I guess that was a bit of an insensitive and ignorant question. But I'm still really having a hard time processing this. I'm not exactly the most patient person, nor the most relaxed so I simply turned towards an innocent tree and grabbed a portion of its trunk, before completely obliterating nearly half of the bark with my bare hand. Some of the agents whipped their heads towards my direction, eyes widening upon seeing the clatter of wood sitting on the ground and against my hand.
Some of the wooden splinters scratched my skin, but not deep enough to cause some severe bleeding. "Sorry, but I'm just a little... frustrated. That's all." I seethed out, trying to control the boiling hot lava that's almost spilling over the cauldron. "Being clueless is just getting under my nerves."
What the fuck is going on this year?! First, this Demon Killer, who I haven't forgotten, shows up and practically divided the entire agency into two. This caused me to neglect my own children and place a strain on our relationship. I find out that Ezra's a vigilante who killed who knows how many people or maybe she didn't at all! I don't know! Now, there's this new threat rising up and for some fucked up reason, the gods just decided to throw me into a blur and punish me by confusing what I believed and still believe to be true.
My mind is slowly splitting apart and I'm shocked it hasn't cracked yet. I swear Thor himself is hammering Mjolnir against my mind, tearing my thoughts apart like what he did with the Jotuns. My face crumples into a scowl, the blood in my face boiling and I could practically feel the steam oozing out my ears. Hayden, if you're really are dead, then I'm probably going to follow you soon. By this pace, I might just grow as unhinged as Dagur, maybe worse.
"I don't know, man. But I don't think this is the only reason why you're almost at the brink of exploding." I hear Camilla said, ripping me away from my headache. I shot her a confused glare that demanded her to explain.
However, before she could even get a single word out, I hear a swift, sharp noise whizz through the air, followed by a wet schlick. We both turn around just in time to see one of the agents fold back and collapsed on the ground, a bullet perfectly embedded in between her eyes. For a second, everyone had their eyes on the lifeless body laying on the grass. Until I hear Shatter bellow an order that rang across the entire division.
"TAKE COVER!"
But it was too late. I don't what was happening but all I saw was a bunch of thin streaks zipping past us, ripping through bark and flesh. I quickly buried myself behind the tree as I hear the continuous rattle of gunfire ringing across the air. Splinters and leaves fell from above, I even saw a few splatters of blood painting the grass. The metal barricades sounded off like bells. I couldn't see anything except for the bullet-filled trees and bodies. The tree I'm leaning on is probably riddled with lead already—it's only a matter of time before it pierces through.
Clutching my axe against my chest, I take a glance behind my cover and I spot a substantial of men, holding multiple LMGs and blasting away. The ammunition belt was snaking down from their guns and carelessly laying across the sand in a spiral. It looks like we can't just wait until they run out. By the time they do, they would've ripped through our defenses and forest, along with ourselves. Luckily, this isn't that much of a big deal.
I quickly took cover before a series of bullets thrashed through bark I was just peeking through. But I already have their locations in my head. With a clear and loud voice, I declared, "Ready the Treetops and your weapons!"
The rest of the agents around me nodded firmly, grabbing the respective tools to carry out my order. I turn to lock eyes with Camilla for a split second and at that moment, a silent exchange occurred and I knew from the look in her eyes that she knew what to do. Without a second to lose, she quickly scurried away, dodging the thousands of bullets flying our way.
I turn and grab the nearest agent beside me by the collar. "You, I need you to call in Officer Cutthroat. Tell him to wait by the end of the forest and on my signal, tell him to throw his infernals." I ordered sternly, earning me a frantic nod before he took out his radio and did as he told.
Now, it's my turn to prepare. I spot a dead agent laying across the ground, his pack tucked safely in his arms. Closing my eyes for a mere second just to pray and send him off in at least the respectful way to Valhalla, I quickly crawled for the back, and just as I thought, I found a couple of cylindrical pipes strung up together—Infernal Bombs. The chemical inside it, patched together with magnesium and a one-touch, creates a very special but dangerous bomb. There's a reason why we call it infernals. Its flames will eventually die out within a few minutes but in that time period, nothing can douse its inferno.
A grin crawled up my lips as I throw away the pack and clutch the infernals next to my chest. I place Stormfly on the ground, but I made sure I kept it close to me. Heaving out a heavy sigh, I turn to the agent beside me, "Hand me your gun, agent." I tell him. With a tentative but willing nod, he gives me his pistol, and without any hesitation, I fire it in the air.
"TAKE HELL IN THE FACE!" I cried out before I flinging the bombs out on the sand and at the simple contact with a solid matter, the infernals shattered into a fiery blaze that wasted no time to consume the surface of the beach. With my voice, I spot another spark of flame burning up on the end, as well as on the other side.
It looks like both Camilla and Cutthroat got my signal. Now, it's time for a counterattack.
"ACTIVATE THE TREETOPS!" I declared out loud and all at once, barrels shot out of the trees' bark and began opening fire through the eternal flames.
Although I can't see it happen, I'm fairly sure we got them, judging by the sounds of the tiny projectiles tearing through flesh and the cries of agony rippling across the air. Sure enough, the barrage fell quiet and we stopped the Treetops as well to match the silence, only the crackles of the flames, as it burned along the sand, could be heard. I take a look around me, large portions of trees scattered around, as well as a few lifeless bodies that weren't lucky enough to escape the rain. The surviving agents held their breath as they stare out across the horizon, the infernal flames slowly dying out.
Once the blaze was reduced to a tiny spark on the formerly-white charred sand, we could clearly see the enemies' bodies sprawled across the shore, guns forgotten and blood running down their open wounds. I was the first one to leave my hiding spot and walk down the beach towards the dead. My steps were slow and dragging, Stormfly remained safely in my hand as I stop right over their bodies.
The first thing I noticed is that their clothes were made of synthetic rubber—wetsuits to be exact. Wrapped around their necks were the straps of their scuba masks, further adding more evidence to my suspicion. The guns were probably chosen to be heavy so that they could hide underwater. In the corner of my eye, I spot a few cylindrical aluminum tanks washing over along with the waves.
We were too blind to see it but they emerged from the sea. But how were they able to go through the...
My eyes wandered over to the positions of the barriers and I head over to one of them, which was stationed right near the shoreline. I dig up some of the sand and luckily enough, they're still there, glowing and emitting an invisible light that spreads out across the air. But that still doesn't answer my question. I look up and I stretch out my hand to meet the barrier, but to my surprise, it just went through without a single force blocking it.
'Huh, so it doesn't react to human touch? Finn must've forgotten to mention that. So, that's how they got through the barrier. We must've missed them since their suits blended with the dark sky and the water.'
But this only bodes a bad omen on us. We just gave out our positions to the enemy without even considering the possibility. The enemy didn't know about the barriers because if they did, their top priority would be to take those out first. We predicted their first move wrong. They were just scouts who happen to encounter us rather quickly. Meaning, they were going to be more...
The sudden revelation was the only reason why I was able to dodge it. The spear managed to nick my cheek but by sheer luck, I craned my neck to the side and immediately lunged after the enemy. He was a larger man than the others, but that only gave me the advantage. I dodged his first punch as he lumbered towards me. Other than his weight and his oxygen tank, the LMG hanging on his shoulder didn't really help with his speed, nor did it help him stop my axe from meeting his chest.
Blood sprayed everywhere, some splattering across the sand and some dripped down on my face. Although I loathed it, I hate to admit that it wasn't bothering me enough to make me feel disgusted. I guess it's just another part of the job to be covered in blood—not exactly my favorite part. With my hand tightly wrapped around the handle, I dislodged my axe out of his tough flesh with an off-putting squish,
As the man fell to the sand with a thud, I realized that this is only the beginning. I turn to the forest behind me, where the rest of the division was waiting for my report. "THERE'S MORE COMING! ARM YOURSELVES AND HOLD THIS LINE DOWN!" I cried out and in response to my order, they immediately jumped into action. They started scrambling for their weapons and gear, Shatter raising his voice to motivate them to move faster.
I turn back to the sea, where the ships remained motionless over the waters. They're planning something and I just know it. They're smarter than they look. They actually managed to blow us back for at least a couple of minutes and expose our positions. Camilla's right, this is a different enemy. This isn't Drago who would merely use his power to overwhelm the world. This isn't Grimmel's long calculated plan to take over. This isn't even Alvin's hidden intention to control the underworld. Everything has completely shifted in another direction and we're stuck to see if we can beat them.
The question is; are we able to adapt to the change?
[Normal P.O.V]
Zythid has to admit that leading an army isn't his strong suit. He may have the armor and label as Night Fury, one of the greatest leaders in Drakos, but he's an insect compared to the real one. Everyone in his division knows that he isn't the real Night Fury and they all know who is behind the mask, but they still obeyed him as if he is. He doesn't know whether they do it out of obligation or respect, but he's glad they do it either way.
But that doesn't deny the fact that he thinks that there are other people in Drakos who are more capable of leading his division than him. Just like on Astrid's side, enemy scouts were able to sneak past their vision and rain down bullets upon them, killing more agents than he would've wished for. They were able to repel the attack just in time but once they did, another wave of destruction followed—except this time it's a lot bigger and they weren't expecting actual vehicles to emerge from the sea. More soldiers wearing scuba-diving suits rose from the waters, clutching spears and guns
Literal tanks drove up to the shore and began shooting shells in their direction. Trees were ripped out of their roots at the sheer force of their projectiles. Zythid wondered if the device that Finn gave them was a dud. But he couldn't think about it right now. What's more important is the threat that's barreling towards them without a single sign of stopping. If they don't act now, his entire division plus the city behind him will fall. The lives of thousands are in his hands and at times like this, he's glad that people blindly follow his incompetence.
"DRAKOS! TO ME!" He had shouted, sounding like he would've fought alongside Leonidas and his Spartans.
It didn't matter how corny he sounded because his division seemed to get the general idea and followed him into battle. They crossed the beach and within seconds, they met their enemies with blades and barrels out. Blood was shed, sweat was poured, and mercy was thrown out the window. Their enemy practically leapt at them like animals, using their weapons carelessly and swung randomly at the more skilled agents.
Zythid may not be the most influential agent on the battlefield, but what he lacks in leadership, he makes up with his skills in battle. It's a clear understanding of who dominates the beach. Although the enemy took over more than half the beach, Drakos' agents are more skilled than them. They tore through their ranks and stepped on their dead bodies as they moved forward. Zythid was a demon on the loose, swinging his chain-scythe around like a madman but his attacks were anything but careless. He used it like it was another part of his body, controlling the chain as it maneuvered its way around to avoid his own men and to directly kill those who weren't.
He looked back and saw Eret Eretson, the former hunter, shooting bolts from his crossbows with a terrifyingly accurate aim. Each arrow struck his target directly in the forehead before they could even comprehend their own deaths. The muscular man stood on top of a rock, exposing his vulnerable position but not one dared to attack him with the amount of perfectly clean kills he shot out. The tank, however, didn't feel any threat coming off from Eret. No matter how much of a strong individual the tattooed man is, he's still no match to an armored car.
It began to aim its main gun at Eret to eliminate their nuisance off the battlefield, unaware of the pair of specially-chaotic maniacs climbing over the hull. Even the person manning the machine gun wasn't able to see the frenzied grin on their lips before it was too late. The force was so strong that it knocked him out in a matter of milliseconds.
"Whoa! That was so cool!" Racquel exclaimed, her foot still lingering in the air after she just kicked the guy's head against the machine gun.
"Can it, numbnuts! We're supposed to be as silent as a lizard!" Her brother berated, slapping her in the shoulder.
"Shut up! You're the one giggling all the way!"
"It's called maniacal laughter! And I like to thank Dagur for teaching me."
As the two were about to quarrel, Zythid took this opportunity to break them apart before they get themselves killed, which highly unlikely because those two have the highest possibility of surviving just because of their recent records.
"HEY!" The Night Fury imposter cried out, grabbing the attention of the two trouble makers. "You either get the fuck out of there or do what you need to do!"
Tristan scowled from afar, "Tyrant..." He muttered under his breath but nonetheless, followed his tasks. Taking out a baseball-shaped device from his pocket, the grin returned to his face as he wholeheartedly threw it inside the tank's open hatch. The grenade bounced along the sides of the panels and chairs, the pilot unaware of the danger he's in.
Racquel followed in a similar manner but before she did, she yelled out a taunting remark. "Happy Snoggletog!" The look of despair on the driver's face oddly gave a rush of excitement through the crazed twin, right before she threw her own bomb inside together with her brother's.
They leapt off the tank and in a mere second, a violet outburst of red, orange, and yellow bursts out and through the tank, shaking the beach to its very bottom. The shockwave pushed the two and everyone else to the ground. Its turret shot out of the tank like a rocket, flames enveloping the metal chunk as it crashed down to the sea. A second explosion erupted, tripling the effect and swathing everything in its path, roasting both flesh and metal along its way.
But the battle was far from done. Every soon recovered and rushed back to the fight, the blast soon forgotten as they clashed blades and bullets once again. The Treetops showered the enemy fields with lead, riddling their bodies until they've been ripped to shreds. But no matter how much they defeat, more just emerged from the sea. It was an endless wave of goons and weaklings that threw themselves at the teeth of Drakos. At this point, Zythid knew something was wrong.
The people they're fighting are far too feeble to even keep up with their swings and strikes. Even the recruits, who were too adamant and hesitant to join the battle, were able to take out more than the enemy's kill count. Zythid slipped through the lines, cutting through the crowd and cleaning off their numbers as quickly as he could. But it felt like he was killing innocent bystanders. Innocent bystanders who were aggressive and strong enough to attack whoever they see, but didn't care enough to defend themselves.
It unnerved him...
But if they're going to win this battle, all morals have to be off when it comes to them. It's kill or be killed and frankly, Zythid prefers his heart to be well and beating. Clutching his chain within his gauntlets, his visor flashed red for a second before took off running once again. He ignored their cries of pain and dodged their futile swings, returning them with grace and actual results. Once he guessed that he was in the middle, Zythid slid his feet against the sand until he closed to stop.
An overwhelming number of red hotspots appeared on the screen of his visor. Pressing his lips together and wrapping the end of his chain around his palm, he took one deep breath and proceeded to flawlessly tear through the crowd with a single swing. Red ichor scattered everywhere and their screams of agony fell deaf to his ears. Metal easily hacked through the flesh and its own like a paper shredder. Zythid snapped the chain back to his hand and flung it around once again in a full circle, slicing off heads and limbs effortlessly.
No one could imagine that two simple strikes could change the tide of the battle in a snap. They were already dominating their enemies, but it only turned into an all-out massacre after their forces were diminished by Zythid. The tanks that were supposed to cause some trouble were easily thwarted by the twins with their unlimited supply of bombs. The beach shook each time they set another armored car ablaze. Meanwhile, Eret led the charge to push the enemy back to the sea, lunging with both crossbows out and purposefully meeting them closely so that he could bury his bolts into their heads. The Thor's beach division cheered as they trampled on their enemies, slashing and gunning through row after row.
Eventually, their ranks began to thin out and before they knew it, they had struck down the last scuba-wearing soldier to the sand. Blood coated the beach as if a plane poured red paint along the shore. If it weren't for the hundreds of bodies scattered across the entire area, they would've believed it. Although it was a bloodbath and a massacre, it only applied to one side. Only a few agents were killed and most have minor injuries that could easily be shaken off. But due to that fact, Zythid's nervousness and skepticism grew bigger.
The rest of the officers walked to his side, cleaning the blood and dirt off their weapons and suits. The Thorstons were bickering on who had the bigger explosion while the actually sane one rolled his eyes and proceeded to adjust the wire of his crossbows. "That'll not be the last of them. In fact, it could only be the beginning." Eret mentioned, eyeing their leader with a suspicious gaze.
"Did you guys notice how weak these guys were?" Zythid suddenly announced. The twins, for once, stopped arguing and perked an interested brow.
"Now that you mention it, you're right. They didn't even bother putting their hands up when I tried to punch them." Racquel agreed, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Her brother nodded enthusiastically to concur with her. "But... isn't that supposed to be suspected? If there are more of them, then they're more likely to be weak, right?"
Night Fury shook his head. "They wiped out the entire population and land of Greenland, Racquel. Greenland had their own agency and if these guys were the ones who attacked them, then I highly doubt that they weren't able to repel them as easily as we did. Granted, they may not be the strongest but these guys are like goons! Lackeys that they just threw at us!"
"I noticed that as well. Do you think that all of this is a distraction?" Eret asked. He also felt concerned that this battle may not be as they seem. The battle felt too easy for such a long and anticipated build-up. If he's going to be candid, he felt a little bit disappointed, but he waved that feeling away.
"No, I think that this is all part of a bigger plan. I believe that they used this attack to test our military prowess. This isn't a distraction—it's more of a larger scale of a scouting squad." Zythid replied sullenly. "They've tested our strength, now they're going to send an army that will equate or overpower our prowess."
"Then we better get ready for a second wave. I'll tell the others to clean the beach off first. This could pose a problem if all the bodies just keep on piling up."
At the word 'clean', a look of horror and misery crossed the twins' faces. "How dare you mention that in front of us! I thought we knew you would be better than that!" Tristan exclaimed, placing his hand over his chest dramatically, much to the other officers' irritation.
Racquel rushed to cover her brother's ears as the male twin began to sob. The blonde shot a glare at the two. "How could you! And here I thought I loved you!" She hissed, caressing her brother's head with a gentle hand. If it weren't for the overdramatization in the situation, they would've been shocked to see the two show some emotion other than their usual hyperness and lunacy.
Rolling his eyes, Zythid mumbled an apology as did Eret, much to his reluctance. But the moment they did, their eyes lit up and they pranced away like nothing happened. As much as he wanted to pummel the two to the sand, he still needs their skill and strength for the wave that's bound to come. A small voice in his head told him that maybe the unruly sight of the twins' heads protruding out of the beach might be able to scare off their opponents but he simply smiled in amusement and shuts that thought away. Maybe he has the time to bury those two in the sand and dig them back out before the second wave arrived.
Sadly, it came sooner than he thought. The sound came from a distant, crossing the seas and across the shivering waters but he easily recognized where it came from. His eyes shot towards the ships that were, moments ago, motionless above the sea that is now visibly turning their barrels towards their direction. Zythid's eyes widened as he could sense the impending doom that's about to fall upon them. The groans of the turrets shifting echoed across the entire beach and soon, all eyes were on the battleships.
It was like they were stuck in a trance. The slow movements of the guns were like a pocket watch hypnotizing them into their frozen state. The wind howled along with the grating sounds of the ships as the waves crashed against the surface in a continuous pattern. Even when they heard the series of tumultuous blasts and saw the barrage of flaming shells hailing towards their way, they just stood there and followed the projectiles. Only then it began to hit them when the first shell connected with the invisible barrier, a fiery blaze erupting in the sky as the shockwave blew past the shield and across the agents' bodies.
The second was far more violent. Zythid almost feared that the shield wouldn't be able to hold the amount of gunpowder combusting across the barrier and the booming shockwaves that continued to cause the earth to tremble. They could smell the smoke billowing through the air, the grey clouds enclosing around but the shield prevented it from entering. Every once in a while a small flame would spark on the surface but it would immediately disappear under the fumes. The great plumes of murky, black smoke rose high to the air and blackened the already-dark sky.
"Holy shit! That was awesome!"
"More! Give us more!"
Zythid was really tempted to rely on the suggestion in his head earlier but he was more concerned for the rest of the shells that began to crash against the shield, causing more explosions to shatter around them. At each one, a visible ripple poppled across the barrier, sending shock after shock in the night sky and shining brighter than the stars above. It felt like the air was quaking upon the sheer power of the projectiles.
'Gods, I have to apologize Finn for doubting him.' Zythid sighed.
Eventually, the ships realized that it's a waste of shells to try and crack the barrier and the explosions crawled to a stop. The last discharge sent one last convulsing wave across the beach before the smoke cleared and the shield stilled. Zythid turned towards Eret, who was admiring the fireworks display with sparkling eyes. Noticing his gaze, their eyes met and with a nod, the hunter stepped down and began giving out orders to clean the beach, taking the agents' attention out of the exploding shells.
"Return to your stations! Refill the cartridges and readjust the Treetops!"
Casting one last glance at the barrier, he turned around to meet with the rest of his division. A second only passed by and that's when he realized that he made one of the worst mistakes he could possibly make as a fully-fledged agent; he turned his back on the enemy. His ears perked up and caught the piercing sound of a whiz behind him. It took all of his reflexive muscles to slightly lean to the side as an arrow slowly zipped past his eyes and proceeded to stick itself through the back of an unsuspecting agent.
Due to his lack of balance, Zythid fell to the sand with a groan. But he quickly recovered after he heard a pluck of a string, followed by another whiz. He rolled to his side, just in time for the arrow to narrowly miss his face. His chain jangled against his armor, but he wrapped it around his palm and shot it forward, hoping to at least hit something... or someone.
Unfortunately, the scythe was only met with another arrow, redirecting its swing that missed the target completely. The blade slammed against the shore, creating a small wave of sand to erupt from the impact. But this gave Zythid enough time to pull himself back up to his feet, only for him to receive a striking pain to surge up his shoulder. A hiss escaped his lips as he held the arrow that's protruding out of his right bicep. It was an absolute deadshot, the wooden dart had pierced through the half-an-inch gap on his armor. It was a shot worthy to the champions and gods.
"Argh! Fucking hell!" He exclaimed, biting his lip to ease the pain. The rest of the division saw the commotion occurring on the shore and they quickly dropped what they're doing to help their leader but Zythid held out his arm to stop them. "Don't help me! I can handle this on my own! Take care of Agent Rikishi!" He gestured towards the man with the arrow stuck on his back.
"Yes, sir!" they chorused, and he was surprised once again at how quick they answered and obeyed. But that could also be a way for them to get rid of him easier but he liked to lean more to the optimistic side.
Zythid yanked it out of his flesh, his scale-fibered suit prevented the blood from spilling but he's going to need to take care of it after this. His eyes sharpened into a dark glare, his gaze holding steady to the one archer that stood near the shore. Just like the rest, he was donning a scuba-suit, with the oxygen tank unstrapped and the mask hanging around his neck, exposing the black-eyed man's face. It's already been clarified that this guy is unlike the rest of the soldiers that attacked them before.
"Great, now I have a Green Arrow problem in my hands. I just hope he isn't from the New 52." Zythid muttered to himself as he snatched his chain-scythe back to his hand by pulling it out of the sand, earning him a burning stab of pain to shoot up his arm once again. Sometimes, being right-handed has its flaws.
Catching the scythe with his left hand, he growled at the silent-treatment the man's giving him. "So you want to keep your mouth shut, huh?" He seethed through his teeth, a blinked red light appearing on his visor. "Then I'll rip your jaw open and make you talk!"
Zythid furiously cast his chain-scythe across the beach and at the lone archer, who dodged in the nick of time before the blade buried itself right at his previous position. The man was quick with his feet and his hands, shooting another arrow before his toes could even touch the sand. But Zythid didn't train like Night Fury for nothing. He held the chain in an upward position, allowing the tip of the dart to trap itself in between the links.
A growing smirk was slowly making its way up to his face but he reeled it in before the cockiness could overtake him. He proceeded to grab another portion of the chain and yank it to the side, effectively slicing the man's leg with the scythe before catching it in his hand once again. An audible cry of torment rang off from him, immediately clutching his leg for support.
"You want to talk now?" Zythid arched an eyebrow, silently hoping that he'll surrender but he knew deep inside that it's highly unlikely. If he was in his position, then he would've done the same.
Unfortunately, he was right. The archer limped forward but he was still capable of holding himself up. Pulling out three arrows from his quiver that's hanging from his hip and nocking all of them in his bow, he drew it steadily near his cheek. "Glory to Sleipnir." He whispered under his breath before launching them into the air. The arrows let out a high-pitched squeal as they tore through the wind and flew right at Zythid in different directions.
But the latter was already on the move. Using the end of his chain-scythe, he flicked it to the air and managed to snap the first arrow in half and then dodging the second by sliding to the side. His boots left craters on the sand as he took another step forward. The third arrow was surprisingly fast, buzzing like a bee on its way to sting its target. But Zythid took care of it by merely kicking the arrow's tip off of its shaft and off its trajectory with a single swing.
As his foot came down, the man already had a fourth arrow drawn on his bow. He wasted no time releasing it but Zythid had already caught up. He reached his gauntlet-fitted hand and caught the wooden dart out of the air. The archer's widened in both horror and astonishment as the Night Fury impersonator twisted the on his hand and stabbed it in the man's kneecap, eliciting another hiss of pain from him. Even Zythid, himself, was shocked at his own ability. He didn't know that it could go so well.
'Damn, am I that amazing?' He thought to himself, not meaning to sound so braggadocious.
He quickly shook himself out of his egotistical thoughts and slid past the man, only stopping behind him. It was an open shot and Zythid will damn himself to hell if he ever misses this. The archer's screams sounded muffled and guttural, so he decided to silence him by flinging the scythe once again, and sure enough, he nailed his target. The scythe embedded itself through the back of the archer's head so cleanly, it took a minute before the blood spilled out. A permanent look of shock remained on his face, eyes wide, mouth agape, hand slipping off his mouth.
A single trail of crimson-red ichor leaked down the man's forehead, dripping to his upper lip before trickling down to the sand. His knees soon followed, buckling and meeting the beach's surface shakily. Zythid ripped the blade out forcefully as the archer's lifeless body lurched forward and met the wet sand, blood continuously pooling from below.
The Night Fury impersonator released a sigh. "Gods, that was a bit tiring." He began wiping the blood of the scythe's blade with his gauntlet when realization dawned on him and he slapped his palm on his face with a groan, both out of pain and irritation. "Damn! I was actually supposed to interrogate him."
He lets out a string of curses as he rolled his chain-scythe back to a bind. "Fuck. I can't believe I lost the opportunity to interrogate one of them. Just a little bit of information would've been helpful but nope! Screwed that shit up as well." He muttered to himself, unaware of the figure listening to him converse with himself.
"They're called Sleipnir if you're curious."
The first instinct Zythid did as an eight-year-long agent was to yelp in surprise, despite learning for years to expect the unexpected. If General Astrid could see him now, he might've been punished and sent back to the recruitment stage. But as jumpy as he is, his reflexes were fast enough to join his instinct at the same time and because of this, he was able to launch his scythe at whoever scared the living shit out of him.
Only for it to be countered once again by his target. The metal blade clashed against another, parried into the air. He flicked the chain back to his hand and just as he was about to fling it again, he was stopped by the actual person, herself. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Calm down, Batman!" She—or at least he believes to be a she—exclaimed, raising her hands out in surrender.
Zythid may not be the smartest man in the world but he's not dumb enough to drop his guard around a potential enemy just because someone told him otherwise... or is he?
His eyes, hidden under the visor, raked over the woman's body to inspect and figure out who she is. She wore an army-green tank top that's almost entirely covered by her bomber jacket. No scuba-diving suit and nor is she dripping wet, so that means she didn't emerge from the sea. But that doesn't disqualify the possibility that she still might be allied with the enemy. Her silvery locks fell on her shoulders like pearls pouring out of a treasure chest, dry as a bone but smooth as the sand below. Zythid would've been able to get the chance to take a picture of her face with his visor if it weren't for the carbon-fiber voodoo mask on her face. The feathers and beads hanging off of it, matched with her clothes only made her more ridiculous than she actually looks.
Despite the obstruction on her face, he could clearly see the blood-red eyes through the exposed eye-holes, hidden under the shadows of her mask. If there's one he knows about this stranger, it's that she's not a normal civilian that lost her way to the beach. The strange, gapped sword in her hand didn't help ease their situation nor her image at all. This only fueled his defensiveness, clutching his chain and scythe with the grip that could crush boulders. They already had a problem out in the sea and if another piled on top of them, this could result in their loss.
The woman noticed his agitated gaze and backed away. She didn't come here to start a fight, although she's pretty confident with her skills. "Don't worry, I'm not one of the bad guys!" She replied, sheathing her sword back to her hip. At his disbelieving frown, the woman sighed and pointed at the fleet of ships across the sea. "I'm not one of Sleipnir's army. I'm a mercenary for hire."
She slipped her hand into her pocket and fished out a small wallet-sized leather folder. Flipping it open, she presented a bronze medallion that was attached to one of the flaps, the other revealed a paper I.D. with a full document that she was part of a small league called the Tempest. Unfortunately for Zythid, there was no picture nor a name drawn on the badge.
The Night Fury impersonator arched a brow. "You do know that has no viability when it comes to confirmation of identity?" He replied sarcastically.
"Yeah, but it's worth the try. I've had this thing for more than 15 years and this is the only time I was able to use it, even though it didn't work."
Zythid let out a sigh and slightly lowered his weapon, although his eyes were still dangerously trained on the woman. He decided to at least hear what she has to say. "So, what's a mercenary doing in an all-out war in Thor's Beach?" He asked.
The woman in question simply shrugged her shoulders. "Let's just say I have a bone to pick with them." She replied.
"Hm, I guess that's fine. We're supposed to hunt you guys down, do you know that?" At the woman's groan, Zythid let out a silent laugh. But he had no intention of harming her, just as long as she respected that sentiment as well. He slung his chain-scythe around the belt of his hip, letting his guard down just a tiny bit. "But I guess we need all the help we can get."
He was then silenced by the woman. "Let's just get one thing straight. We're here for our own personal reasons. We just so happen to help you along the way. So don't go around with a stick up in your ass when you find out we ditched you."
"I don't even know why I'm negotiating with you. It's not like you'll make a difference in the battle." A scowl crossed Zythid's features, hidden under his visor but it's pretty obvious due to his lip curling.
"Which is exactly why I said we're not here to help you. For us, this is a scouting mission."
"Who's we?"
The woman shook her head, producing a sound that seems like a mix between a growl and a groan. Whatever it is, she didn't sound happy about it. "He's just taking a second to get a breather. He'll be here soon." She sighed out. "Just try not to ask too many questions."
Zythid rose an eyebrow but didn't question it. He has more important things to do than ask this mercenary some personal questions that won't help their cause in any shape or form. He's somewhat glad that they have an ally but he's starting to think that this would only bear more problems for the battle. They're supposed to eliminate mercenaries and vigilantes off the surface of the world, but here he is, conspiring with a mercenary that looks like she could only bring trouble wherever she goes.
But if she's going to stay, then he might as well squeeze out some information about their enemy. Zythid hated facing a mysterious opponent, especially with one at this scale. It's been a while since he joined a war that's as grandeur as this; in a battle where it would probably last more than a day. The last time he had to spill blood continuously and crawl across the dirt while grenades flew past his head was six years ago; Drago's Island. Granted it wasn't the worst but they suffered some casualties that may have affected the agency's prowess.
There's no reason to doubt that it may happen again.
"So, you said these guys are called Sleipnir. Want to elaborate?" Zythid turned to the woman, who gave him another shrug.
"I don't know what else to tell you that can't be already seen right in front of you. Maybe I can say that they're just the most influential cult in the history of mankind, but no one knows who they are." She explained, running her hand down her metallic-shaded hair. Vampirical eyes blinking under the darkness, they flickered over to the fleet. "They thrive through chaos, and I'm not using it in a metaphorical sense. They literally live to create chaos. They believe that the world should at least have a taste of it before moving forward." She said nothing more than that, keeping her own opinion to herself. After all, their views may not see eye to eye in this particular setting.
Zythid's eyebrows creased in curiosity but pressed his lips into a thin line to keep himself from showing any in scrutiny. He'll be lying if he said he isn't interested in the 'lore' of this Sleipnir cult but they have more important matters to attend to. "Any idea on how to fight them? Do they have any... special qualities?" He questioned.
"There's no actual way to fight them other than... fight them." The woman crossed her arms over her chest. "All I know is that they adapt to the world pretty fast. They have sources from every country in the world. As soon as new technology has been developed that could be known to the masses, they would've gotten it already. But I can see you already did that with that invisible barrier."
"How about fighting style? Strategies?"
"Like I said, they adapt to the environment they're in. As soon as you show at least a glimpse of your plan, they'll make one up on the spot to try and counter it." She gestured towards the entire battlefield where the beach is laded with bodies, blood, and forgotten weapons. "You just showed yours and I reckon they'll send an entire army this time."
"I'll have the twins handle the waters and we'll just ask the artillery division to take down any aircraft that tries to fly within our range. But what about their soldiers? They can't all be this weak, right?"
The woman's eyes cast downwards, an almost somber shadow passing through her mask. She turned around and walked towards one of the bodies scattered across the beach; most of them still had their scuba masks on with a black tint over the frame, preventing anyone from identifying them. She reached out her hand and stripped the mask away to reveal a fairly-normal-looking man, with wrinkled features, sharp jawline, and ghostly-white skin. She could already tell that he was pale before he bled to death.
Zythid watched from the side, curiosity growing but keeping his mouth shut as the woman proceeded to cut a strip of the scuba-diving suit and peel it off. A gasp escaped the man's lips when he saw the ugly, thick, and jagged scars drawn on his skin. It looks so inhumane and staggering to see someone live through that. Mangled flesh and loose skin were all he could witness on that man's stomach.
But as he took a closer look, he found out that the scars were lined into numbers: 3178
"It's just as I thought." The woman muttered, causing Zythid to snap his gaze away from the marred skin. "These guys aren't soldiers. They're slaves..."
"What?"
"Sleipnir has a habit of abducting people into their ranks, forcing them to work and create things that are way above their capabilities. From what I can guess, this guy's either Danish or Dutch. Honestly can't tell the difference. But this mark proves that he's been taken out of wherever he came from and forced to fight."
A grimace formed on Zythid's face. He doesn't like where this is going but he could already tell that this situation has only gotten worse. "So if they're just kidnapped victims, then does that mean they're just innocent citizens?" He warily asked, scared to know the answer but he realizes that he needs to know.
"Mostly, they are. I don't know their lives but from my experience, they usually are." The woman replied flatly.
But Zythid noticed that there was a hint of a doleful tone in her voice. albeit he didn't mention it. Maybe it's because his mind is in shambles. Conflicted isn't even the proper term to describe what he's feeling right now. He is absolutely disgusted in himself that he just massacred innocents with a grin on his face. Their blood is literally staining his hands and blade. His sins are exposed for the world to see and it was enough to make him stagger backward.
All he could see now when he looks at the battlefield are the faces of men, women, sons, and daughters; all who were innocent but their lives have been cut short that to his blade. His chest tightened at the feeling, as if the souls of the dead started choking him with their ghastly and bloody hands, demanding him their lives back. If it weren't for the fact that he's in the middle of a battle, he would've let himself fall to his knees right there and then, and beg for their forgiveness.
"Wh- why did they... why did they attack us?" He gulped, unable to form a proper sentence.
"Ever heard of Dragon Root? Y'know, that stuff that scientists started to use in supplements and steroids? Look at his neck." He took a small glance down and sure enough, the man's neck was bulging and veiny, almost painfully red as if it was about to burst. All the blood was still bloating around his scruff, even though he's been dead for quite some time now. '
The woman frowned as well. "They've been using the raw stuff for years, way back when the Dragons first arrived. It mostly affects them, but experiments show that direct contact with a human's bloodstream will make them go crazy and blind to their own actions, hence their aggressive behavior. Maeve the Matron has been the largest supplier of Dragon Root in Europe for quite some time now."
That didn't ease Zythid's repulsiveness at all. That didn't change the fact that he just murdered innocents, unknowingly enjoying the thrill. Despite being under the influence of drugs, he couldn't stop the guilt from rising in his chest. He has to slip into his bed in comfort, lying awake for the rest of the night as pangs of regret and remorse lingered in his heart. He'll have to carry this knowledge for the rest of his life.
"I'll relay this info to headquarters and the rest of the division—"
"I think it's better if you just keep this to yourself for now." The woman interjected. as she stood up, but her gaze was facing elsewhere. "If you say this to the rest, this might affect them emotionally. Just like how you are right now. Who's to say that they won't act like you just did. One person won't change anything but the entire division would shift the tide of battle."
Zythid cursed himself for showing weakness, but he nonetheless agreed with the woman. Morale now is as high as it gets and that always affects the status of the army. Even the coldest of hearts will at least feel a twinge of remorse for the dead and it would probably be worse for those who aren't prepared for these types of stuff. Albeit they are already stone-cold killers, taking an innocent's life is a totally different story. Most of Drakos believe that they can do their job, no matter how fucked up it is, just as long as it won't affect an innocent's life. If this comes to their knowledge, it'll be a lot more harmful to themselves rather than the morale.
"So, is this one of... Sleipnir's strategies?" Zythid asked, wondering if all of this is just a ploy to harm their prowess.
"Probably. But yet again, who really knows. Sleipnir's specialty is their unpredictability. They may have planned this from the start, but this could've been a coincidence that just so happens to work in their favor." The woman said, before sensing something vibrating in her pocket. She excused herself to check it out. Fishing out a small, rectangular-shaped device, she pressed a tiny button and a high-pitched beep responded. A series of pixels formed a message on the tiny screen, black and white letters flickering across the device. As she read it, her facial features behind the mask slowly turned to a frown and once she finished it, she has her lips and eyes curled up into a deadpan.
Zythid may not have seen it but he could tell that whatever it was, it bothered her enough to heave out a heavy sigh. Now, he normally wouldn't meddle with someone's personal business but a strange feeling in the back of his head urged him to ask what's wrong.
"Is everything alright?" He asked.
The woman smoothly slipped the device back to her pocket and faced him again, flashing a smile—not that he could see it but the crinkle in her eyes told him just enough. "You remember I mentioned me having a companion?" He nodded hesitantly, unsure of where this is going. "Well, he decided to leave your division to me, and then he'll help the one in Fólkvangr Beach. Weird for him to change the plan all of a sudden but what works, works."
Zythid narrowed his eyes. "How long have you been stalking us?"
"Not that long. Enough to know where you guys went. We know that there's a massive fleet out in the sea so we narrowed your locations to two possible places; the beaches." She shrugged nonchalantly.
The Night Fury impersonator crossed his arms over his chest. The edges of his gauntlets scratching over his armor. "You do know I don't trust any of you, right?" He shot her a dark glare, mustering all the edginess he has in his pocket while simultaneously adding some of his true emotions to it.
"And I don't either, so let's agree to disagree. You handle your problem and we'll handle ours. In the process, we're somewhat helping each other but also not, at the same time." The woman waved his gaze off like a fly, much to Zythid's irritation and surprise. "Now, you go on and talk strategies up with your gang. I'll just hang around here and tell you if they make a move."
Still feeling somewhat chary towards this unprecedented situation, he reluctantly agreed with a small gruff and stalked away; boots leaving visible tracks over on the sand as he stomped back to his division. Once she felt like he was far enough and out of earshot, Nadia pulled the mask off her face with a breathy gasp.
"Oh, fuck that! Why is it so hot in there?" She exclaimed, forehead slicked with sweat and her face flushing red as a fading rose. She cast another glance behind her to make sure no one is even remotely near and extricated the communicator out of her pocket. She promptly pressed the power button, causing the screen to flash a bright light and reveal the message once again;
'U can handle it there. I'll go 2 the other beach. After all, u did say that we shud split up in the 1st place.'
The first thing Nadia would like to say is that she felt proud for teaching Hayden how to make a short message. He used to send these long rambling messages that are both informal yet formal at the same time. She could almost see him gesturing and waving his hands in the air as he says this. It brought an amused smile to her lips just by imagining it.
Regarding the plan switch, she wondered why he felt the need to split up when they both agreed in the end that they'll stick together. But she couldn't complain because like she said, their presence on the battlefield will change nothing. They're only here to extract some information and hopefully, gain the chance to meet Sage again. Even if she has to team up with a bunch of government assassins, she's willing to take that fleeting chance with the risk of being detained or worse, eliminated.
But she's worried about Hayden because unlike her, he has a pretty big name and an infamous history record. So if they find out about his identity, he'll have to face two different kinds of enemies and she's stuck to save him from both... or it could be the other way around. She isn't really safe either; Hayden's just more likely to get caught first because of his 'interesting' way of fighting.
"You better know what you're doing, dumbass. Camilla will kill me if you ever died under my watch." Nadia spoke under her breath, biting her lip in frustration. But as she slipped her communicator back to her pocket, her eyes unconsciously locked at the lying form of a dead Sleipnir slave. The mask still concealed his face but it only drew her curiosity and attention.
Slowly walking towards it, she knelt down to the sand, avoiding the puddles of blood, and dubiously placed her nimble hands on the carbon-fiber mask. With one swift move, she pulled it off before dropping it on the sand in shock. Her pupils narrowed and seemed to flee from the expanding whites of her eyes, almost shrinking the red glow in her irises. She just knelt there, slack-jawed at the scene she's witnessing.
There, right in front of her, a young woman with long streaking dark hair that's braided into a childish twin-tail, and an innocent smile, laid on the sand with veins almost protruding out of her skin and crimson-red liquid trickling down her curved lips. Her eyes remained open, enough to see the blood clumping over her sclera. She looks like she's barely passed the age of fourteen. But now, she would never experience the rest of her life, thanks to the fishing spear jutting out her chest.
Nadia was horrifically aghast at what she's looking at. She couldn't believe that a youthful child such as her was used as a meat shield for Sleipnir. The amount of loathing she felt towards Sage just doubled after seeing this. A coil of negative emotions began to spiral within the mercenary. Her foot planted itself on the sand, almost crushing the scuba mask beneath her booth. Standing up, she loomed over the body, the clouds moved in sync with her and cast a shadow over her eyes. Hands clenching to a fist, the image of her mother flashed in her vision and everything burned as red as her optics.
Thunder roared above the skies, lightning flashed through the grey clouds. The waves of the sea crashed against the shore, slamming against the rocks and sand with vigor. A clawing sensation started rising up her throat. Her vocal cords burned painfully as the dragon within her impatiently scraped its claws against the surface, waiting to be released. All she wanted to was to scream, let out a blood-curdling roar that would shake the nine realms themselves. She could feel the rows of jagged spikes, spiraling and digging through her skin at each passing second. Everything that she didn't want to be is now making its way out of its shell and she could see her mother standing before her with a smirk on her smug face. If her words were able to melt into her mind in time, she would've snapped.
'I always knew you were a monster. Thanks for proving it to me.'
But before she could fall into an unwanted and barbarous rage, her heart thumped once and it's as if everything in her body restarted. Her boiling rage had simmered down to a loose frustration in just the span of a second. Her rooted and stern features relaxed, softening into an indifferent expression. A soothing wave of cool glittering water washed down her veins and muscles, seemingly loosening all the strain and tightness she was once clenching. It's as if the fresh country air of the fields in the Netherlands seeped through the pores of her skin and ran up her spine to cool down her brain.
Yet again, she has to thank her EDD for calming her down. These are the only moments where she's glad her emotions are being locked away because she couldn't imagine what she'll do if she ever lost herself. It'll probably never happen but if she somehow does, she just hopes that it would kill her in the process. End her before she could harm anyone else. She'd rather be dead rather than live with knowledge of her own mistakes.
A sigh, one that carried all the negative emotions that were once been plaguing her heart, left her lips, leaving her contented and relaxed as soon as it did. But that didn't mean she had forgotten why she had almost broken down. Her eyes flickered down to the child lying dead on the ground, the pain evident behind her plastic, lifeless smile. Nadia crouched down and closed the young girl's eyes with a swipe of her hand, hoping that it would at least give them both some comfort.
Her face now devoid of any emotion, she stared at the child's face with a distant look. But her heart was blooming with regret and guilt, despite being locked away. Nadia hesitantly leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on the girl's forehead, showing every bit of sympathy left in her. As she reeled back, a smile graced her lips; a small one, but a genuine one nonetheless.
"I'm sorry, little one. But don't worry, she'll never hurt you or anyone else ever again." Nadia whispered, a newfound, steely determination stirring in her eyes. "I'm going to give you her head once I'm done."
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[1] Screaming Death Armor
[2] Death Song Amber