"Riktus is dead." the Supreme Commander smiled. Corrin was speechless. Time was frozen. Riktus was dead. What did that mean? Corrin could not even imagine it. It was as if life was purposeless. It had been his mission; his goal. Now, the enemy he had been hunting for so long was dead.
"Back at the Capitalis, some General Infantryman took him out with a stray grenade." The Commander laughed. A General Infantryman, kill Riktus? It did not seem possible. Though, no matter how idolized he seemed, the Dark Controlled was still a mortal man. Or was he? Corrin had seen such dark magics; it was hard to believe anything was impossible.
"And the Lost Souls?" Corrin asked, tentatively. After all he had been through, had it all been in vain? His honor and pride had been taken by Riktus' death, but had his friend been freed? If so, it would all be worth it.
"I'm sorry, I don't understand what you mean." the Commander replied, an almost serene look on his face.
Corrin would stand no more delay. He stepped forward. "The Lost Souls! Have they been freed?" He roared. The Commander stumbled backwards and began to shake slightly. There was a silence. The man's face darkened, as he prepared to say what Corrin had feared since he heard of his enemy's assassination.
"No."
Corrin nodded, attempting to keep his face straight. He slumped to the ground, unable to contain himself. Tears streamed down his cheeks en masse. He could not stop them, no more than he could stop the moans and cries. He beat his fists against the cold steel and slammed them into his legs, thinking if he caused himself enough pain he would wake up.
He felt a cold, gloved hand slide onto his shoulder. "Corrin." He ignored the voice, knowing it was Grange's. The ground was becoming wet with tears. "Corrin." He raised his head, his face red with anger. Still, he ignored Grange. "Corrin…"
"What?" he cried, spinning around. His bloodshot eyes met with his friend's.
"I…I'm so sorry…I" Grange began. The tension of the moment was broken as their ears were blasted with terrible sound. Red, flashing lights burst into life all around them, blinding Corrin for a moment.
366, 366, shields critical; 100, 100, walls are under attack++
Pain forgotten, Corrin was on his feet in an instant. Finally, it had arrived. His thoughts had been building up to this for weeks. Now, it had come down to this. He would defend his motherland to the last breath.
He dashed out of the room, Grange and Jasper at his heels. The rushed through the defense door and onto the open streets of Glory. The sky was burning. The shield generator was failing, and fast. Red and green mixed in a psychedelic light around the areas that used to be blue. Visible tears in the defensive energy-fabric were bombarded with blasts from strafing bombers. For the first time in ten millennia, Glory burned.
Corrin's mind returned to the battle as a great explosion rocked the west wall. Dozens of Merican soldiers were thrown across the dust-filled air. Corrin fell in with a huge group of charging Mericans, his mouth open in a gaping maw, screaming his heart out.
They emerged, out of the dust of the war, from the ruins of the wall. Imperials had set foot in his city. Huge figures lumbered from the wreckage, firing explosive death through the air and into Merican lines.
Corrin fired back, meeting their attack; fire for fire. He grunted as a bolt exploded by his foot. Burning embers smoked through his tough army boots. Then, the pain faded. His rage, it was beginning.
It was then that the lines met. Mericans clashed with Imperials. Corrin leapt forward, Imperials parting in fear at his enraged charge. His knife took first blood from a basic soldier, as he moved along. He winced as the sharp blade of a bayonet cut down his back, tearing through his skin. Throwing his elbow back into the ambusher, he dove forward into another terrified man.
The bloodshed continued, Corrin leading the Mericans through the bleak view of the future. He gave hope. His hands were stained with blood; the blood of the Emperor's damned followers. Then, he came.
"Corrin." a voice called, laughing maliciously at the horror around him. Corrin recognized it. Then came realization. It couldn't be! He wheeled around. Jonas stood before him, grinning. Corrin clenched his fists, watching as the treacherous scum spread out his arms.
Corrin's eyes darted to the side, seeing his friends, embattled, and bleeding. "Why worry for them, Corrin? They'll be dead soon!" Jonas cried in a mock soothing voice.
"How?" Corrin stammered, enraged.
"I am invincible." he said, as if it was obvious. "You chose the wrong side, my friend. He has seen it…yes…the Emperor will rule over all."
"I don't change sides, traitor…" Corrin spat. A small gap had formed in the mass combat, enough to create a space for the two men to move about in.
"Fight on, for the Emperor!" Jonas roared, as if blowing away Corrin's scorn. "We are invincible! We will never perish! We will…" Corrin sped for him, not wasting time. Jonas' face turned white, forever frozen in fear. His limp body fell to the ground. Corrin stood over him, foot in the traitor's mouth.
"Looks like you were wrong." Corrin smiled.