Chapter 14: Yellow Sun

[2:35]

…

The boys were now near their destination, unaware of the horror that had unfolded in their base.

From afar, the sound of screaming men and women rode the wind. Steel clashed on steel, each impact echoing into the dusk.

When they reached the gate, they climbed the fence. What they saw confirmed their worst suspicions—many people had already begun the siege on the girls’ base. Seven people fought savagely inside, hacking and clawing at one another in desperation.

The girls stood in a circle, backs pressed together, weapons gripped tight in white-knuckled hands. They fought hard, fearless even in the face of death, but the numbers were against them.

“The Broken Shields have arrived!” a man screamed. His voice cracked with panic, assuming their arrival meant another enemy faction.

On a normal day, Alexander would have twisted that misunderstanding into a weapon. He would have used it to break the enemy’s morale. But this was different. This was no time for tricks.

This required force. Brutal, decisive force.

“We could kill them, take their special skill!” some whispered greedily.

“Yeah, that way we’ll own three bases!” others muttered, eyes gleaming at the thought.

The boys stood silently, unmoved by the chatter, their faces carved in stone.

“I don’t see any of the Commander’s goons,” Alexander muttered, scanning. A knot of unease tightened in his gut.

“Who cares,” Bray snapped. “Let’s do what we came to do.”

He vaulted over the fence, his boots slamming the dirt. Alexander followed.

“Alright, ladies! We’ve come to save you!” Bray shouted, his tone dripping with mockery.

“You don’t have to rub it in!” Charlotte growled as she swung her weapon, knocking back an attacker.

Two towering men stepped forward, both carrying massive weapons that gleamed in the dying light. Their faces twisted into grins—like scavengers stumbling onto gold.

“Where do you think you’re going?” one snarled, his sickle dragging across the ground with a screech. The bloodlust in his tone was thick enough to taste.

“Get out of the way. You don’t have to die early,” Bray warned, his eyes cold.

“I’m a miner,” the man said, flexing. “I’ve dealt with worse.”

Bray shot forward, his fist slamming into the man’s chest with a resounding phu!

The man didn’t even flinch.

“Woooh!” Bray exclaimed, blinking in disbelief.

“These guys are tougher than the first game’s participants!” Emily shouted, fending off another attacker.

“Yeah, no kidding!” Bray snapped back, shaking his aching fist.

A sudden kick lashed toward his chest, but Bray countered, twisting sharply. The faint exchange lit the spark of battle.

“You’re mine!” the other brute roared, swinging his axe down at Alexander.

Alexander slipped aside, fluid and sharp, the blade grazing past. He caught the haft, twisted, and drove it sideways. The axe nearly cleaved him, but he ducked low, rolled, and came up with a blade shimmering in his hand.

His strike was fast, precise. The weapon bit deep into the man’s leg.

But no blood came.

“What…?” Alexander’s eyes widened. The blade was stuck, but it was as if the flesh itself refused to break.

The man turned, smiling wickedly.

“Your attacks can’t work on me,” he said with a cocky sneer.

“My name is Gojo—the King of Endurance.” He flexed his muscles, veins bulging like steel cables.

—

[2:07]

The Broken Shields’ base.

Jamie lay sprawled, trembling violently. His breath came shallow and ragged, his body soaked in sweat. His thoughts spiraled in chaos—Greg’s death, his own helplessness, the creeping certainty that his fate was sealed.

The sound of boots approached, steady and commanding.

Through blurred eyes, he saw the Commander cutting a path through his subordinates. They parted for him like courtiers for a king. Each step hammered into Jamie’s chest, each one closer to his death.

But in that haze of despair, his resolve flickered. I have to protect this base… at all costs.

He staggered up, wiping tears and sweat from his face. His trembling hands wrapped tightly around the kali sticks.

Jamie screamed, a battle cry torn raw from his throat, and charged. His stick swung hard, aiming for the vice commander’s skull.

Jamie rushed again, desperate, kali sticks flashing. He baited the vice commander with an opening—then struck. His foot stomped down on the man’s knee, and as the vice commander faltered, Jamie launched upward, his boot smashing into the man’s face before flipping back with raw, reckless force.

Back on his feet, Jamie steadied himself, chest heaving.

“HAHAHA!” The others laughed, their cruel voices ringing.

“He humiliated you!”

“Why even make him your second in command?”

Jamie snapped, chest heaving. “If it wasn’t for you interfering ealier, I’d have kicked your asses too!”

Confidence sparked in his eyes, though his body screamed otherwise.

“Show them why I chose you,” the Commander ordered calmly.

The vice commander’s grin sharpened. He blurred forward.

Jamie’s eyes couldn’t follow. A punch hammered his chest—bones cracked, his ribs screamed. Blood threatened to rise in his throat, but he clenched his jaw, swallowing it down.

The subordinates stared, stunned.

Punch after punch rained down, each strike carving agony into his body, snapping his head side to side. Jamie dangled midair under the flurry, helpless, his screams drowned by the violence.

I can’t move…

Blows painted his face red. His vision swam in and out of blackness.

“Wait—he only has one upgrade like us, right?” one whispered, horrified.

“Then why is he this powerful?” another muttered, shaken.

The vice commander seized Jamie’s right arm, locking it. He sneered down, veins bulging.

“No…” Jamie whispered, shaking his head weakly. He lifted his left arm, striking the man’s face desperately.

The blow was meaningless.

The vice commander’s grip tightened.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

Jamie’s scream shredded the air. His voice cracked, raw, desperate.

Clack!

His arm broke.

“AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!” His voice rose higher, collapsing into sobs of pain.

“Do him a favor,” the Commander said coldly. “Break the other.”

“No—please! Please don’t—!”

Clack!

Agony ripped through him. His body convulsed.

“My ears… they’re ringing,” Jamie thought dimly. “I can’t even hear my own screams…”

His vision tunneled, darkness bleeding in.

“I guess that’s how it is in Midgard… you try to be human, and you die.”

“But… I regret nothing.”

The world went black.

His body hit the ground with a lifeless thud.

The men whispered. “Is he dead?”

The vice commander kicked him. No sound came.

“He fainted,” he said simply.

“Don’t worry. Even if he’s alive, he’s nothing now,” the Commander added, stepping close.

Their system screens lit up.

[Broken Shields > 0 bases]

[Guns > 2 bases]

The Commander smiled. “If the girls do their job, we’ll have three.”

“For now, we wait her for his other teammates to have.”

—

UNKNOWN LOCATION

The repeated ticking of a clock pierced the void.

Jamie’s eyes flickered open.

His vision blurred. Pain screamed through his body, nausea coiling like venom in his gut.

For a boy of seventeen, the torment was unbearable—too raw, too heavy, too real.

White walls surrounded him. The floor gleamed, pristine and unnatural.

Ropes bound him to a chair, digging into flesh with every shallow breath.

A shimmer appeared before his eyes.

System loading…

One by one, glowing skills formed across the air:

[Commanding Presence]

[One Man Army]

[Elastic Potential]

[Battle Instinct]

[Overhaul]

[Sonic Step]

His heart pounded. Breath hitched.

This was the store, unchanged.

“Why am I seeing this!” He thought, curious.

Then—

Glitch.

The words shattered, breaking like glass. Code spiraled across the screen.

Only one option remained. The one he had never seen before on the list.

[Yellow Sun]

The letters pulsed like molten fire.

A voice slid into his head—calm, merciless, absolute.

“Now.”

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