On this day...
The people of Mapoli bore the weight of bitter remembrance—the agony of defeat and the shame of conquest still clung to their hearts like an unshakable curse.
The city, once a proud beacon of resilience, lay humbled beneath the iron heel of an adversary unlike any before. Smoke curled through the shattered streets, and the air hung thick with the scent of burning ruins, mingled with the coppery sting of blood.
***
Nebula collapsed to his knees, a jagged gasp tearing from his throat as searing pain lanced through his abdomen—a wound that pulsed with every heartbeat, spreading agony like wildfire.
His breath hitched, ragged and shallow, forming misty wisps in the cold night air. The distant echoes of war rang in his ears—the anguished cries of the fallen, the crackling of fire hungrily devouring what was left of the city.
His trembling hands clutched the dual shotguns, their barrels stained crimson. He stared at them with a mix of frustration and despair, his grip tightening as his vision blurred. A bead of cold sweat dripped from his brow, splashing onto the blood-streaked ground beneath him.
Why? Why had the people of Mapoli refused to listen? He had warned them—pleaded with them—but his words had been brushed aside like the whispers of a ghost. He was nothing to them. Just an orphan, a nameless shadow in the alleys of a city that had never truly embraced him. But did that make his warnings any less real? Did his lack of lineage strip him of the right to be heard?
Nebula's thoughts churned in bitter turmoil. He had tied both himself and Sara—his guardian beast—to this catastrophe. He could have run. He could have abandoned them just as they abandoned him, let fate take its course while he slipped away to safety.
But he wasn't a coward.
A fire burned within him, hotter than the flames consuming Mapoli's ruins. He needed to prove—to himself and to the world—that he existed. That his life had weight, had meaning. And more than that, Mapoli was still his home. The only home he had ever known.
Through gritted teeth and sheer willpower, Nebula forced himself to his feet. His body protested, his wound howling in pain, but he ignored it. He would not fall. Not yet. Not until he decided it was time.
Nebula barely had time to process the agony wracking his body when a cold, unyielding grip clamped onto his shoulder from behind. The pressure was firm, unfriendly—a Gog soldier's hold, one that did not offer second chances. His instincts flared to life.
With the last ditch of his strength, he latched onto the enemy's wrist and twisted violently, using the weight of his own battered frame to hurl them onto the ground. The impact sent up a burst of dust and blood-soaked debris, but Nebula had no time to hesitate. His fingers closed around one of his shotguns, his vision swimming as he yanked it up and pulled the trigger.
A deafening blast ripped through the air. The recoil jolted through his bones, and the soldier's body jerked before going limp, their armor clattering against the bloodstained ground.
Nebula staggered, his breath heaving, every muscle screaming in protest. His right hand remained locked around the shotgun's grip, but his left pressed against the deep wound in his abdomen, where warmth continued to seep through his fingers. He turned—his blurred vision catching the shape of another figure rushing toward him.
Another one.
A second Gog soldier advanced, blade drawn, their cold, calculating eyes narrowing behind their visor. Nebula's pulse pounded in his ears as he raised his shotgun—only for his heart to sink.
Click.
Empty.
A surge of helpless frustration welled up inside him. His fingers twitched uselessly on the trigger. His body was too weak to dodge. The enemy was too fast. This was it.
(Tsk! Is this how it ends?)
His mind braced for the cold steel of death—
But before the blade could fall, a blur of white streaked through the air like a phantom.
A vicious snarl cut through the battlefield, and in the blink of an eye, the assailant was ripped from his path. A massive she-wolf crashed into the soldier with brutal force, her fangs sinking deep into their throat. The enemy's strangled scream was lost beneath her furious growls as she wrenched them away, her ivory fur streaked with the crimson spray of blood.
Sara had arrived.
The battlefield was a fractured ruin of smoke and fire, the air thick with the stench of blood and gunpowder. The clash of steel and the distant cries of the dying wove into the chaotic war, a reminder that Mapoli was on the verge of total collapse.
Nebula gritted his teeth, his vision flickering between the rising flames and the battle-worn form of his guardian beast.
"Sara! We must hold on until help arrives!" he called out, his voice hoarse from exhaustion.
The white she-wolf, her once-pristine fur streaked with blood—some hers, most not—lowered her head, ears twitching at the desperation in his tone. Her golden eyes flickered with sorrow, but also with unwavering loyalty.
"This battle is already lost, my lord," Sara countered, her voice laced with both concern and urgency. She studied her master's battered frame—his dark skin pallid, his hands slick with his own blood. "...And you're gravely wounded. We must retreat to safety for now!"
For a fleeting moment, she paused to lick the fresh, searing wound on her waist, tasting the bitterness of her own pain before stepping toward Nebula with resolve.
Nebula parted his lips to respond—
But a piercing whistle split through the air.
A silver spear, honed and deadly, hurtled past his face, slicing through the tendril of his dreadlocks before finding its mark. A sickening crack followed as the spearhead brutally impaled a nearby Mapolian soldier, driving straight through their skull. Their lifeless body collapsed onto the scorched earth, blood pooling beneath them in a grotesque halo.
Nebula froze. His heart clenched.
His grip on his shotgun faltered, his breath hitching as grief threatened to paralyze him. But there was no time for sorrow.
"Hop on now, my lord!" Sara's command broke through his momentary daze. She crouched low, motioning for him to climb onto her back.
Nebula clenched his jaw, shoving the grief down into the depths of his soul. He had no choice but to move forward.
In one swift motion, he mounted the she-wolf, wincing as his wound screamed in protest. His fingers tightened against her thick fur, the warmth of her body grounding him against the cold clutches of despair.
But as his eyes lifted to the darkened horizon, his stomach twisted with renewed dread.
Beyond the burning remnants of Mapoli, sleek aircraft reinforcements loomed in the distance, their predatory silhouettes cutting through the smoke-choked skies. Gog's guardian hunters had arrived in full force.
The sky was no longer theirs.
"...To the wastelands!" Nebula urged, his voice sharp with desperation.
With a powerful leap, Sara lunged forward, her muscles coiling like steel beneath her fur as she sprinted through the war-torn remains of the city.
Unfortunately, the enemy would not let them escape so easily.
Nebula and Sara tore through the woods, the wind howling past them as a relentless barrage of gunfire and projectiles rained down from all directions, ripping through trees, kicking up soil, and splintering bark into deadly shrapnel. The sky above them flashed with the glow of tracer rounds and energy blasts, streaking like falling stars in the twilight.
The loud echoes of battle shook the very air, as the enemy soldiers, unwilling to let their prey slip away, pursued with unyielding fury.
But the real danger wasn't just the bullets or the burning wreckage of Mapoli behind them—it was what lurked in the shadows.
A guttural chorus of growls and shrieks erupted as the enemy's unwilling guardian beasts joined the hunt. These beasts—some resembling massive hounds, others winged birds with glowing, soulless eyes—burst from the underbrush, their claws raking the earth as they closed in.
Nebula clenched his teeth, gripping Sara's fur as she weaved through the chaos with inhuman agility, leaping over fallen trees, dodging explosions, and barely slipping past clawed strikes. Yet the storm of attacks remained unrelenting.
Then—thunk!
A sharp pain exploded in Nebula's left arm.
An arrow, black as midnight and cruelly barbed, lodged deep into his flesh. A strangled groan tore from his throat as he lurched forward, his grip on Sara loosening for a fleeting moment.
"My lord!" Sara's panicked voice cut through the whirlwind of combat. The urgency in her tone was unmistakable, her pace faltering ever so slightly.
"Keep going!" Nebula barked through clenched teeth, forcing himself upright despite the blinding pain. "Don't slow down, no matter what! Focus on our escape—I'll deal with these fuckers tailing us!"
Sara hesitated for only a fraction of a second before obeying, her powerful legs surging forward once more.
Fueled by rage, Nebula reached into the pocket of his tattered grey coat, retrieving the last precious bullet he had left. His fingers trembled slightly—whether from exhaustion, pain, or fury, he wasn't sure—but he forced himself to steady his grip.
Then, in one fluid motion, he flipped a silver coin high into the air.
Time seemed to slow.
With practiced precision, he aimed his shotgun skyward and pulled the trigger.
The blast erupted with a deafening roar, the force kicking against his already-weakened body. The bullet struck the spinning coin midair, ricocheting off its surface with a bright metallic ping!—and then veered straight into the foreheads of the aligned pursuers.
One by one, the soldiers collapsed, their eyes frozen in stunned horror before their lifeless bodies hit the earth. Their enslaved guardian beasts, bound by forced servitude, howled in agony before dissolving into ash, their forms vanishing into oblivion.
Nebula allowed himself a moment of satisfaction—
But fate was not so merciful.
Before he could celebrate their narrow survival, the ground beneath them trembled. A sudden, gut-wrenching crack split through the night as the terrain gave way beneath their weight.
"Shit—!"
The earth crumbled in an instant, and before either of them could react, the unstable cliffside collapsed.
Boulders and jagged debris crashed around them as gravity yanked them into the abyss. Wind roared past Nebula's ears, his stomach twisting as the world spun violently around him. He barely had time to brace himself before they plummeted into the freezing embrace of a rushing waterfall.
The force of the impact stole the breath from his lungs, dragging him and Sara into the depths of the turbulent waters below. Darkness swallowed him whole, the muffled echoes of the battlefield fading into nothing as he was swept away into the unknown.
******