I turned my head slightly and saw the knight in the distance. His silhouette stood like a statue in the middle of the devastated field, and with a firm and powerful voice, he shouted at me to use the sword he had thrown to fight. His voice was not just a sound; it was thunder embedded in my chest, a reminder that I still had a weapon, still had a duty, still was alive.
The knight remained motionless, watching the battle from afar. He seemed like a calm mountain, but in his stillness there was a weight of expectation, as if his entire being was pushing me forward. Gathering all my strength, I gripped the sword tightly. The metal vibrated in my hands, cold and heavy, yet burning at the same time, as if it wanted to scream alongside me. I took a deep breath and hurled myself toward the angel, attempting to strike.
He reacted with a speed that seemed unearthly. His body moved like lightning through clouds, and with a precise slash, he countered. The force of his blow was a metallic roar that surged through my entire arm, forcing me to release the sword for an instant. The steel screeched as it struck the stones. The impact resounded in my skull as though part of me had been torn away.
I ducked immediately, narrowly evading his strike. The air ripped apart beside me, hot, almost as if the blade had set fire to the space it cut. I seized the moment to retrieve the sword from the ground, clutching it as one would grasp a brother's hand on the edge of an abyss.
The angel gained momentum and, aided by his wings, rose into the air. His white feathers shone, but in their brilliance there was something unnatural: it was not the light of hope, but the radiance of an executioner. He flew straight at me like a projectile, like an arrow launched by the wrath of the heavens themselves. His shadow fell over me, and suddenly he unleashed a flurry of rapid slashes against my arms and legs. The air filled with metallic flashes, a storm of blades. They were shallow cuts, yes, but precise, like calculated bites from a predator. Each wound burned like liquid fire across my skin. Though I managed to withstand the strength of his attacks, the accumulated pain made it hard to move normally.
The taste of iron filled my mouth, though I couldn't tell if it was my blood or the metallic echo of the battle itself. I staggered back a few steps, gasping, and in a hoarse voice I asked:
—Are all of your kind this strong… or only you?
He simply answered with a curt "no." That word was a stone thrown into the void: cold, absolute.
I let out an ironic laugh, broken in the middle of my panting.
—Lucky me… The first day I step out of that capsule and I run into a monster.
As my voice faded into the battlefield, I noticed something: the elf girl was no longer on the ground. My heart pounded faster. Without thinking, I attacked the angel again with my sword, forcing him to retreat. Each clash of steel echoed as if the world itself were trembling. I wasn't only fighting to survive: I wanted to drive him away, to give the girl time to escape and hide.
While I kept him occupied, I felt something strange. The wounds he had inflicted on me began closing slowly on their own. The burning subsided, the skin knitted together, and the blood stopped flowing. A silent regeneration, as if something hidden within me had awakened.
Thanks to this strange ability, I could move more nimbly. I ran toward the angel, and he did the same. It was as if two storms collided head-on. Our swords clashed again and again as we moved at high speed, cutting through the air, leaving deep marks on the ground. We exchanged slashes on arms and legs relentlessly, a duel where pain was nothing more than another beat of the war drum.
The angel began to show signs of exhaustion: his arms trembled, his breathing grew heavy, his wings drooped more sluggishly. His movements, once eloquent and flawless like the verses of a divine song, now were clumsy, discordant notes. His body, covered in wounds, could no longer keep pace.
Mine was battered too, but unlike his, my injuries healed themselves with time. That difference was an invisible blade between us, a growing distance pulling me away from defeat.
The angel glared at me with pure hatred as he kept striking. His sword still cut the air with fury, each blow more fueled by rage than skill. His eyes, which at first gleamed with coldness, now burned with a venomous fire. Suddenly, he shouted in fury:
—!I will not lose to a wretched human like you! You have no idea what we've sacrificed for this damned war!
His words thundered with rancor. The very air vibrated with his cry.
I didn't know what to say. I stayed silent. Not because I didn't want to respond, but because there were no words for that. Yet my arms did not stop.
They kept moving, guiding the sword with a brutality that didn't feel like my own. I felt as if another being dwelled within me, one that wielded my body as a weapon. Something dark, incomprehensible, was beginning to take control. A force I neither understood… nor could stop.
I felt my strength slipping away little by little, like sand between my fingers, but I couldn't fall. Not yet. I had to stay on my feet… for her. For the girl.
The angel was faltering as well. His wings, once spread with majesty, now seemed like heavy burdens. His movements grew slower, clumsier, and in his eyes there was no longer divinity, only desperation. I saw my chance: a fleeting moment when his guard dropped, just a blink.
With one final surge, I ran at him. The entire world compressed into that motion. I felt the wind cutting my cheeks, the vibration of the ground under my feet, the roar of my heart in my ears.
My sword pierced his chest. The sound of steel tearing through flesh and bone was a dreadful crunch, a metallic roar carved into my memory. I felt his body's resistance yield little by little until the blade emerged from his back.
But he, with his last strength, countered. His sword sank into my abdomen. It was like lightning ripping through my body, an icy fire that stole my breath.
We both stood frozen for a moment, staring into each other's eyes. Two soldiers trapped in the same fate. His lips bled, my hands trembled. I knew he could fight no more. His wings collapsed like burnt branches. He began coughing blood, staggering.
With a cry of both pain and rage, I withdrew my sword from his body. He fell to his knees, a broken giant, and then, lifeless, to the ground. His body struck the earth with a muted thud, as though the land itself claimed him.
I tried to take a step toward where I remembered the elf girl had hidden, behind a tree. During the fight, I had glimpsed her running that way. Each step was a world, each muscle screamed for rest.
But my legs no longer obeyed. I collapsed to my knees, exhausted. The cold earth received me like a merciful executioner. I looked at my hands, trembling and bloodstained. I didn't know if it was mine or his. My vision blurred, my breath came in broken gasps.
I tried to rise once more… but my body refused.
The knight, seeing me collapse, ran toward me without hesitation. His footsteps thundered like war drums drawing near. As he approached, I began to hear a voice in my head… but it was mine. It was as if I were whispering to myself, murmuring words I couldn't understand. Broken whispers, fragments of myself, echoes of something deeper.
Everything blurred. Reality dissolved into patches of light and shadow. I could endure no longer. The world went dark and I lost consciousness.
When I opened my eyes, I was leaning against the trunk of a tree. The air smelled of damp earth and dried blood. In front of me, the elf girl stared at me, tears overflowing from her green eyes. Her cheeks were flushed, and her small hands trembled. In a sudden impulse, she threw herself onto me and hugged me tightly, as if afraid I would disappear.
She clung to my shirt desperately, her tiny fingers digging into the fabric, refusing to let go. I stroked her head gently, trying to calm her sobs. Her hair smelled of forest and ash. Little by little, through tears, she began to speak.
She told me that everyone who had been with her had been killed by the angel… her mother, her father, her friends, even the townsfolk she knew. She had seen them scream in pain, beg for help… but no one came. Her voice was a broken river, each word a knife sinking into my chest.
She had managed to escape, but he had caught her. And when he was about to kill her, I appeared.
Because of that —she said with a trembling voice—, she was alive.
I couldn't believe what I had just heard. My breathing grew heavy, my thoughts a whirlwind. I, who barely understood who I was, had saved a life.
I kept stroking her head in silence, letting her crying fade away little by little. At last, Elena calmed down. Her dried tears left a shining trace on her cheeks.
With effort, I stood and lifted her into my arms. Her body was light, but the weight of her sorrow made it feel immense. Without a word, we began walking toward where the knight was.
The knight awaited us in silence, kneeling before an improvised grave where he had buried the bodies of the fallen elves. The freshly turned earth smelled of farewell, and the wind blew like a funeral chant.
After finishing his prayer, he approached us with a solemn expression. His eyes, hard as steel, held a hidden glimmer of respect.
—That girl never left your side for a second —he told me—. She was the one who placed you against that tree when you lost consciousness.
The girl lowered her gaze, wiping her tears with trembling hands.
—My name… is Elena —she whispered in a soft, almost broken voice.
After drying her tears, Elena gave me a smile. Her eyes still reflected deep sadness, but also something else: hope. A spark, small and fragile, but alive.
I carefully carried her on my back, and we began to walk.
After moving a good distance through trees and hills, at last we met with the other heroes. They were sitting on the ground, resting as they waited for us. Their gazes rose as they saw us, and the silence grew heavy with meaning.
The knight pointed to the top of a nearby hill and said:
—Just beyond… lies the Kingdom of Humans. The Kingdom of Lumeria.