There were flashes of light in the distance and the sky rumbled like the crashing of thunder that came from the east and west. Troops cried out and took cover under the ominous whistle of shells, and as noon struck, fire rained down on the city and trapped between two walls of artillery with nowhere to flee, many soon recognized their end. When most would have been out of their homes, strolling the streets, conversing in cafés, visiting shops, drilling on parade squares, and playing in parks, they were suddenly met with charring waves of flames that vaporized their mortal flesh. Houses crumbled, streets were torn apart, and from beneath, pipes erupted and quaked the settlement. Towers crashed, churches collapsed, and the city was ravaged by the first wave of shells but the besiegers did not relent. A mess of rain and blazes poured down like a storm that not even the heavens could blow or water out. Each strike meant the death of a family and a dozen more wounded with the last shock followed closely by clusters more. Explosives pounded the earth and even they, settled in the gatehouse leagues away from the city center, could feel the floor shake. The guns had not aimed for the wall knowing that their ammunition would have been wasted on the sturdy concrete that stood unbreakable but in the stead of the soldiers who could do nothing in retaliation were people who became the attack’s first victims. Through the slits in the gatehouse walls was a sea of flames and ash, smog and mist, filling the canvas of the cityscape. They heard the shouts of soldiers on the wall calling for the lieutenant and overwhelmed by the shrieks that erupted from Haven that had become hell, Siegfried flinched. When he turned his head towards the noise out of reaction, Aurelius set down his cup and his pupils sharpened. He unsheathed a knife that had been hiding behind his back and took no aim before throwing it. The blade cut through the air and before any could stop it, pierced Siegfried’s chest. It became lodged deep in his ribs and from the force of the impact, he was thrown off his feet and crumbled to the ground. Blood poured out of his wound from the fuller, and curled up, agonizingly, he grasped at his heart, Arminius looked over his shoulder and saw the boy on the floor beside Károly. The lieutenant unbuckled his holster and drew his pistol at Aurelius but before he could even place his thumb on the hammer, Aurelius tossed the pot of boiling water at his face, burning him around his eye. He cried out in pain, his hand holding onto his face, stumbling back into his seat and even if he had been half-blinded, he wished to fire his pistol, only that he would not dare when he heard Arnau charging at the general from behind. With both of his swords unsheathed, he lunged at Aurelius who simply moved out of his way and grabbed his hand before yanking one of his swords out of his grip. The general spun off his seat and whipped his blade towards Arnau whose remaining sword deflected the strike, and thinking that he had barely avoided death, the lancer leapt back, but the enemy’s reaction was quicker. Aurelius twirled his sword into a reverse grip and swung at Arnau from the flank. Their steels clashed, ringing out, waking Arminius who only grew irritated from his burnt face. He gritted his teeth and subdued the pain, his face partially scarred, as blood ran down his head from the pot which struck him, he let out a cry and summoned his eifer. Rather than fearing the budding thunder, Aurelius smiled. When Arnau charged towards him again with a thrust, the general skipped aside, allowing his blade to flow freely by. Narrowly avoiding becoming impaled by an allied sword, Arminius halted the transference of his eifer into his sword and grabbed Arnau by his arm. Although the latter had hoped to halt himself and fight beside the lieutenant, he was flung towards the stairs, spinning off balance on his feet, until he dug his heel into the floor to anchor himself as Károly reached out to catch him by his back.
His breath was heavy and as he knelt by Siegfried, he placed his hand on him to assure, “Sieg, hold on.” Arnau felt his chest beginning to fail to rise. “I’ll get you off this wall.” One could not tell if they were droplets of sweat or tears running down his cheeks.
Gasping for air, Siegfried breathed, but all that escaped his lungs was blood. Color was lost from his eyes as he struggled to say even Arnau’s name, holding onto his hand that weakly squeezed, fading away. Károly drew his arrow and aimed it at the general but with Arminius in his line of sight, he could not release it. His hands were shaking, anxious for an opening.
Unholstering his pistol, pointing it at Aurelius, the lieutenant cocked its hammer and steadied his breath. “Both of you, head to the harbor!” Arminius urged. “This wall can only hold so long.” He told hem, hoping that it would encourage them to withdraw.
Aghast that he would want to face the general alone, Károly lowered his bow, his face visibly afraid. “Armin…” The archer tried to reason with him.
The lancer beside him lifted Siegfried from the ground and hurled him onto his back, his arms wrapped around him, but no one had noticed that his eyes were already still. A friend’s blood soaked his body as he gazed at Arminius. When he caught that his demeanor appeared sure of his desire, he turned around and hurried toward the stairs, pausing only when he saw that the archer’s feet had been glued to the floor in quiet panic. He could not remove his thoughts of hopelessness that birthed a memory unseen.
“Károly, give him some space.” Arnau woke him from his sudden dream, holding onto his shoulder. “Our lieutenant won’t die so easily.” Insinuating what he had wished was rather an order, he reminded the archer of his position.
The thought of leaving Arminius drained him of life and his head was wet with sweat as he closed his eyes, tight. Being unable to do anything, as an archer, he gritted his teeth with disappointment at himself when the only thing that he could do to help was to flee. He took one last glance at Arminius and tread backward, committing to his withdrawal, following Arnau down the stairs. As the wall was rocked to its foundations, the floor vibrated, but with a force graver than the bombardment were the two souls who faced each other. Now that they were finally alone, Arminius had some peace knowing that he could fight without limit. In his left hand, the trigger of his pistol slowly compressed and the pressure primed its hammer for release. His blood heated, itching his finger until it could bear no more the wait and fired his gun. The hammer struck the shell and the bullet fleeted out of the barrel, the muzzle flashing like the distant artillery and a puff of smoke burst. But Aurelius’s reaction was inhumanly quicker than the machine when he whipped his sword into a forehand grip and felt that the lieutenant had been aiming for his chest. Proving that he was worthy of his name, he deflected the round that rang on impact and leapt at Arminius who had planned to unleash his eifer to follow but the general would not allow him to summon it. In the moment the eifer had left his heart, Aurelius was already before him, swinging Arnau’s sword at his neck. Forced into defense, Arminius parried his strike, but on each meeting, he noticed that his attack was terribly predictable. For someone who had fought against Rzhev’s sword art, the lieutenant was able to defend himself with a margin of movement that allowed him time to think. However, the predictability of the enemy’s sword was a feint. The blade suddenly moved at speed and flow as if he was the sea lashing its waves against a beach. It wore away at Arminius’s rhythm who failed to regain his stance as the artillery fire continued to pummel the city and the scent of fire masked the tea that once filled the room. Arminius took two steps back and predicting that Aurelius would charge at him, he lunged forward before he could, but like water, Aurelius simply pivoted on his agile feet and swung his body around. His blade swept upward, appearing to be aiming for Arminius’s head that forced the lieutenant to bring his sword to his defense but it was knocked away by the momentum of Aurelius’s. The boy’s body was awide, ripe for attack, and realizing his mistake, he fired his pistol thrice maniacally, its bullets rebounding off the walls and ceiling. Aurelius leapt back and having not thought that he would waste his rounds out of panic, he halted for a second. A bullet had scathed his face that he wiped the blood off of with a hand and smudged it over his cheek as he grinned, standing tall without unease. Arminius backed away from the wall and advanced towards the general, inching forward every ten seconds, holstering his pistol and guarding himself with both hands on his sword. His eyes were with streaks of lightning searching for an opening but he had been unable to disassemble the general’s strategy if he had any before he could be backed into a corner again.
Rubbing his fingers which sensed the moisture in the air that had invaded the gatehouse, the general sniggered. “Armin, can you fly?” Aurelius asked him a bizarre question.
Arminius frowned in perplexity, wondering if it was a genuine ask or not, but in the moment he lowered his guard, his reaction grew delayed, and Aurelius had caught notice of it. Raising his sword by his face, his blade glowed in an instant, and the lieutenant knew that he had accidentally forsaken his defense and his eyes could only widen in horror. The moisture in the air soon formed a thick veil of mist which pulsed as the Rus’s eifer surged as if every molecule in the room was being drawn towards the general’s sword. Rain gathered around his blade and coated the steel in a layer like a swarm of sentient particles and his smile finally melted away, his face fueled by an ancient anger. Eifer powered his blood and coursed through his veins and when the switch which controlled the flow of his power was flicked alight, he swung his sword across his entire arc of vision, launching a wall of mist at Arminius at soundspeed, slamming into him who struggled to defend himself with just a meager sword. The impact near-burst his eardrums but more painfully, it felt as though a train had ran into him. Thrown back into the stone blocks behind him, the wall that had kept the wind, smoke, and rain out, bursted without resistance and the gatehouse was torn awide from within. The sheer force of the colossal strength of the Radilov’s eifer tossed Arminius like a breeze against a feather and soon, he found himself in unstoppable freefall. Heavier rubble slammed into the ground below him and he plunged for over twenty paces that would have killed anyone else. But in an instinctive maneuver, the boy tried to angle himself midair, hoping to land on his feet that he was sure to withstand the impact, however, the earth was near and he had no time to act. He reallocated his eifer into a single foot and his heel met the ground but he felt his ankle snap, his fall having been broken. Tumbling down the ridge, he landed back first onto the cold, wet pavement, and felt his bones rattle from the impact. As he laid there with his sword still tightly clenched in his hand, his comrades who had descended from the wall and had appeared at the foot of the stairwell stood, staring, disturbed. They ran towards the lieutenant who miraculously regained consciousness but his body was frail. Everything was a blur, from the rain to the lights to the voices. The pain had not yet come but when he lift his head, he was greeted by the sight of Aurelius, standing victorious over the gate. Parts of the gatehouse crumbled yet he did not move to safety, watching Arminius from afar, his expression had none of the warmth nor affability he portrayed moments ago. In a fit of rage, his heart enflamed, the lieutenant drew his pistol and though his aim faltered, he fired it nonetheless. The bullet shot by Aurelius, inches off its mark, and he did not flinch. Feeling his body lose strength, Arminius slumped back into the arms of Károly as Arnau hurried to join them, shouting unintelligibly. Their voices gradually grew louder as he recovered his hearing. Having heard and seen that their wall had been compromised, the defenders piled themselves into the gatehouse, forcing Aurelius to turn and fight. Trusting that they would be able to slow the fiend, Károly began to drag Arminius away by his arms despite his small stature. In trail behind Arnau and the remains of Siegfried, Arminius gazed at the heavens, regaining his senses, feeling the rain pattering on his face and seeing the shells that often whistled by.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3eICgbrjwf
