Flames and smoke choked the corridor, casting flickering shadows over the debris-strewn ground. The Captain and Oxel pressed forward, boots crunching against broken stones and scorched wood. Every step threatened to topple more rubble, but their eyes were fixed on the figure they feared most: Roxy.
As they moved closer, the sight before them made them pause. Scattered across the corridor were enemy soldiers, crushed beneath fallen beams or caught in the blast, lifeless and silent. The explosion had left no mercy, and the heat warped their armor, smoke curling from their bodies.
Oxel swallowed hard. "The blast… it killed them all."
The Captain's jaw tightened. He had expected enemy resistance, but the aftermath of the explosion—this indiscriminate destruction—was staggering. The smoke stung their eyes, and the stench of fire and blood filled the air, but there was no time to dwell on it.
Through the haze, they spotted her. Roxy lay trapped beneath a heavy beam, her silver hair matted with ash and blood, her uniform torn. Without hesitation, the Captain and Oxel rushed to her side, lifting the debris together. Dust and soot fell in clouds as they freed her fragile form.
"Roxy! Can you hear me?" Oxel pressed a hand to her shoulder. Her breathing was shallow—critical.
The Captain scanned the ruined corridor, noting the fallen enemies and the chaos surrounding them. Then he gave a sharp command: "Get her to a doctor. I'll handle what's left and find the King."
Oxel didn't hesitate. Lifting Roxy carefully, he sprinted toward safety, nearly reaching the medical tents, while the Captain stayed behind, alone amidst the fire, smoke, and carnage, every muscle coiled and every sense alert.
Time passed in tense silence as the Captain moved through the smoke-filled streets. There, amidst shattered walls and smoldering rubble, he found the General. The man was in critical condition, bloodied and exhausted, struggling to remain conscious. Around him lay nearly seventy enemy soldiers—elite fighters he had slain single-handedly before reaching his limit.
The Captain's eyes widened. This is how strong he is… he thought. The General had not fought for years, yet in a single, desperate push, he had taken down seventy of the enemy's best. The weight of that reality pressed heavily on the Captain's mind, a testament to skill honed over decades.
The General's lips trembled as he spoke, voice barely audible over the roar of flames. "Captain… trust… no one… be careful…"
The Captain leaned closer, but before the man could reveal more, his body went limp. Death claimed him before any specifics could be shared. All the Captain could grasp from that fleeting moment was terrifying: there was a traitor. The betrayal had originated from the same side Oxel had come from. He did not speak a word of this suspicion aloud.
His mind sharpened with urgency. He could not yet know if Oxel was involved because oxel came from this direction before they met , but one thought overshadowed everything: Roxy. She was still in danger, and he had to reach her. Sprinting through the chaos, dodging flames and falling beams, he finally caught sight of her and Oxel near the medical tents. Relief surged briefly, but the Captain remained vigilant.
"Captain! Did you find the King?" Oxel called as soon as he noticed him.
"No," the Captain replied, voice tight. He said nothing of the General's warning or the traitor; that suspicion remained his alone. Oxel nodded, focusing on guiding Roxy safely into the doctor's care.
Once she was secure, the Captain turned back to the streets. Enemy soldiers surged from the smoke and debris, desperate to take advantage of the chaos. Steel clashed, fire crackled, and the two of them—Captain and Oxel—fought side by side, cutting through the disorder with precise efficiency.
Suddenly, a figure emerged from the shadows of burning ruins. Calm, deliberate, and terrifying in his approach, he moved with a single purpose: the Captain's death. Yoki—the Eye Commander of the attack—advanced without hesitation, each step radiating lethal intent.
The chaos of the burning streets seemed to fade for a heartbeat as the Captain and Yoki faced each other. Every instinct, honed over countless battles, screamed danger. The man before him was massive—muscles coiled like springs beneath his blackened armor, each movement radiating deadly precision. In his hands gleamed a massive axe, its edge chipped and stained, cruel and ready to cleave.
But what caught the Captain's eye wasn't just the weapon or the brute strength — it was Yoki's face. One eye remained, sharp and gleaming with a predator's focus. The other was gone — a ragged scar where an eye had once been, fresh and brutal, like it had been torn from him in a recent battle. The Captain's mind sharpened. Whoever had done that to this beast had been powerful. And if Yoki had survived it… he was even more dangerous than he looked.
The Captain's eyes narrowed. This is going to be a difficult battle, he thought, assessing the man's stance and the lethal precision in his gaze.
Yoki's voice cut through the roar of the flames, deep and menacing. "You will die… just like the General. He was badly injured—he fought me before facing my seventy soldiers. Even in that state, he killed them all. Fascinating, isn't it? He even took my left eye in that fight. I respect strength like that… warriors like him… I love crushing those who are strong."
The Captain's grip on his sword tightened. Every word was a warning, every tone a challenge. He could feel the deadly confidence radiating from Yoki, a man accustomed to victory, but he also knew that experience, speed, and strategy could overcome brute strength.
The fight began.
The Captain lunged with ruthless precision, blade flashing toward Yoki's throat. But the massive warrior twisted sharply, his bulk moving with unexpected speed, and the strike carved nothing but air. Steel shrieked as Yoki's heavy axe met the Captain's sword in a savage clash, sparks scattering like stars into the night.
With a roar, Yoki swung his colossal weapon in a wide arc, forcing the Captain to retreat step by step. The axe's reach was overwhelming, its force enough to splinter stone, yet the Captain's footwork was sharp and disciplined, weaving in and out of danger.
Suddenly, Yoki feinted a downward strike—but instead of bringing the axe down, he surged forward with his fist. The blow landed with the weight of a boulder, slamming into the Captain's ribs and hurling him back against a wall. The impact cracked stone, dust exploding around him as pain jolted through his body.
The Captain staggered, coughing blood, but his grip on the sword did not falter. He charged back in, blade flashing in rapid succession—slashes, thrusts, parries. Yoki laughed as sparks flew with every clash, his axe carving through the air with brutal sweeps, each swing threatening to cleave the Captain in half.
Minutes dragged on like hours. The clash of steel against steel echoed across the battlefield, punctuated by the grunt of effort, the crunch of boots tearing into the ground, the hiss of blood hitting the dirt. The Captain ducked beneath a cleaving strike and countered with an upward slash, grazing Yoki's armored shoulder.
"Not bad," Yoki growled, eyes burning with bloodlust. "But not enough."
Before the Captain could recover, Yoki spun, his axe whirling like a storm. The blade bit into the Captain's chest, tearing through armor and flesh alike. Blood burst forth, warm and wet, painting the ground. The Captain staggered but refused to collapse. His vision blurred, but his will burned hotter than the pain.
I can't stop… I won't stop…
Even bleeding, even broken, he lifted his sword again.
Yoki grinned beneath his helmet, admiration flickering in his savage gaze. "Yes… stand. Show me what it means to be unbreakable."
Every breath was fire in the Captain's lungs, every step agony—but he endured, eyes fixed on the monster before him. Both men circled, the battlefield trembling beneath their weight.
Then Yoki roared, leaping forward with terrifying speed, his axe raised high. The sheer force of his charge shook the ground, the blade howling as it cut through the smoke-filled air—aimed straight for the Captain's neck.
Flames roared. Smoke swirled. Debris scattered as the killing strike fell.