The eyes. Vanessa focused on the open, bloody eyes as time seemed to freeze.

The young boy in front of her, his face mask broken, its glass digging into his face, had deeply bloody eyes, as if a vein had popped, colouring them red. Hidden deep within them, frozen as his last expression, was a deep resolve. It was not fear, it was not reluctance, but a determination to complete his mission.

For that one fraction of a second where she looked at him, time seemed to freeze, her mind racing, yet at the same time her thoughts frozen. Then the dizziness returned, followed by the sounds of fighting, and the smell.

It bloomed in the air around her. Copper and salt. A metallic whisper that curled into her nose and settled in her throat like smoke. It was sharp, thick, feral. Not quite a stench, not quite a scent – more like memory unearthed. She had a flashback once to a time in training when she stuck her bleeding finger in her mouth. Blood. That taste, that smell, it was blood.

Vanessa recalled that something had sprayed on her face. It slid down her cheek in slow, viscous trails, a strange weight to it, clinging like it had purpose. With a slow, trembling hand she touched her face, and when she pulled back she saw red.

It was on her face, in her hair, on her clothes, but she didn’t have time to pay attention to that. Instead, she fought through the brain fog that was plaguing her and looked up. That’s when she saw it.

To call it a fight was underwhelming. To call it art was a disservice to those who were putting their lives on the line. All she could call it was… incredible.

Six soldiers, all wielding spears, their bodies surrounded by the effects of their cards or their abilities, worked in perfect cohesion to defend against superior foes. If, earlier on, they had acted with machine-like precision, perfectly demonstrating the defensive formation they had likely been taught for a long time, then now what they displayed was the utmost demonstration of Kolari grit.

For soldiers who had been so lacking in emotion just a short while ago, they were now burning with an absolute passion that was evident in every swing of their spears. Their foes were faster, stronger, and with deadly abilities. The aether they wielded carried the daunting aura of Initiates, in front of whom Neophytes should have been like a sand castle before an approaching tide.

Yet when inevitability came knocking, it found soldiers at the door, unwilling to give ground. It was not without reason that Kolar was considered to have the strongest military might in the world. The martial culture of the country seeped down to its very roots, filling the daily lives of all its citizens with the colours of discipline and training.

In the face of a superior foe, the seven soldiers did not give up. They, who seemed so lackluster when they had no orders, unleashed the full weight of Kolar’s zeal when it came to fighting.

That did not mean, for even a second, that they had erected an impenetrable defense. Far from it, in fact. When they had first clashed with the feline beast, they had been entirely unable to cope with the sudden increase in difficulty. In that critical moment when they were nearly overwhelmed, one of them made the ultimate decision.

Using his own life, the soldier counterattacked instead of defending, causing the beast to retreat and buying his comrades time to gather themselves.

The exchange was unspoken, the expectations uncommunicated, yet the price was paid readily. It was for the sake of the mission, yes, but in his last moments, something greater had filled the soldiers whose name Vanessa did not even know. At the moment, he had broken through that mental barrier that the abstract curse had placed on him. Yet instead of utilizing his newfound freedom for himself, he used it for his comrades. He exchanged the entire possibility of a full life ahead to buy them a few seconds, so that they may continue the mission, and more importantly, so that they too may overcome the same barrier.

If they lived, if they survived, then maybe they could live long lives. They would never know his last words, but they would know his last convictions: fight, win, survive!

The world was shaking around her, but Vanessa could not move her eyes from the six soldiers facing death, and holding it off. She was there when the army marched from Fordham to the base around Perilith, but there was no war song, no war drums that could match the sound of her rapidly beating heart, and sound of those six spears.

“Wake up,” she uttered, using the entirety of her strength to move her arms to her sides. Then she used even more strength and began lifting up her body.

“Wake up, Bael,” she said once more, but her words were no remedy to poison, unfortunately.

A deep helplessness gripped her chest as she saw the fight. It wasn’t even the threat of death that had her feeling unresigned. No, it was the sight of Lina, fighting so ferociously to keep her safe. It was the knowledge that she had known so many people, and heard their last words, but she wouldn’t know the last words of the boy whose body lay at her feet.

“Get up!” she said, this time her voice was a lot more forceful, though maybe she was no longer speaking to the unconscious Bael on the ground. No, this time, she was speaking to herself.

As she fought back the lethargy, the light headedness, the sickness, Vanessa grit her teeth and forced herself to feel nothing but anger. Anger wasn’t the most helpful of emotions, but when she needed to distract herself from the condition of her body, it was perfect.

She was no freaking damsel in distress. She didn’t want to let others save and rescue her. No, she wanted to fight to save herself alongside them!

She tried to control her aether, but it was sluggish, so she drew her daggers. But she wasn’t foolish. Her response time wasn’t good enough just yet. If her aether worked, she would use a card to get her adrenaline flowing. Since she couldn’t, she did it the old fashioned way.

Vanessa smacked both her cheeks, and waited for her body to respond.

In front of her each second that passed, their situation got worse. Though the six were fighting with everything on the line, they merely held their demise at bay. That did not mean they suffered no injuries, or that they could maintain this long.

She could see it. They were not fighting with precision, they were fighting with only their will power, and that was not a sustainable thing. Each of them was at their very limits, unsure of how long they could hold. They would find out though.

Vanessa did not feel the cool breeze that continued to blow, nor could she smell the scent of lavender coming from far off fields. She could only smell the thick smell of blood, and could only feel the heat of the moment.

There was a slip. One of the beasts, a Serval, tried to claw at one of the soldiers’ necks. He defended, though his grip on his spear finally gave, and it slipped out of his hand. He had shields ready, but how could a spell from a 0 star card hold off an Initiate?

The Serval saw the opening and quickly bit towards his neck. The others were occupied, unable to support him. The soldier’s mind was working, and he tried to raise his hand to punch the creature away, even if it meant sacrificing his hand. Yet his body would not obey his mind. It had reached its limit.

It was not fear that filled his mind as the soldier realised he was going to die. Instead, he only thought of how to use his death to do as much damage as possible.

Before he could think of an answer, he felt a sharp edge on his shoulder. In deep recesses of his mind, he could not help but think that the cut felt more like a blade than a creature’s fangs.

Then he saw the Serval retreat hissing, one of its eyes bleeding from a deep cut.

“Sorry about the cut,” Vanessa said, her words slurring as she appeared right behind the soldier and helped him stand. “My hands are still a little shaky from the poison.”

Then, she threw herself into battle. Though her aether control was still poor, she used her innate ability as little or as much as she could, hiding her figure in the shadows, striking from blindspots, drawing blood with each strike.

Six became seven once more. Facing off against the terrors of Perilith were six Kolari soldiers, and one Novan assassin.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep