Chapter 224: Memory
A sudden chill ran along Myles’s spine without warning, sharp and unnatural, cutting through the rhythm he had maintained since the battle began.
His blades continued to move as they had before, cutting down enemies in clean and efficient motions, and from the surface everything still looked as if it followed the same flow they had established earlier.
But that feeling refused to disappear and instead settled deeper into his chest as a heavy and suffocating feeling that he couldn’t ignore.
He swallowed slowly as his instincts pressed against his mind. Forcing him to look beyond the immediate fight as his gaze swept across the battlefield with growing anxiety.
The sky remained red above them while the massive sigils and the enclosing dome still held their form without disruption.
But the movement below told a completely different story as the flow of battle shifted. It no longer aligned with their earlier momentum.
Michael’s troops were falling at a far faster rate now and their formation had broken into scattered clusters filled with panic and hesitation, while Red’s forces pushed forward with increasing aggression that showed no signs of slowing. Myles’s eyes narrowed slightly as he caught sight of his companions in the distance. He saw each one of them now locked in direct combat against opponents who clearly matched their level, forcing them into serious engagements that prevented them from supporting one another as freely as before.
"This is bad. Something’s wrong... this isn’t how it was supposed to go."
The thought settled heavily in his mind as he immediately searched for the center of the battlefield where the outcome truly mattered.
His eyes moved quickly until they finally found what he was looking for.
The scene that entered his vision caused his expression to tighten instantly as clarity struck him without delay.
Michael was down. Red stood above him and was already moving in to finish it.
The realization hit him hard as the situation aligned in his mind. If Michael fell now, the remaining structure of their side would collapse entirely and whatever morale still held his forces together would shatter beyond recovery.
It wouldn’t just be a loss. It would turn into a complete rout.
Myles didn’t hesitate.
He pushed forward immediately. His body surging into motion as he cut a direct path through the battlefield toward the center.
His blades moved faster and more decisive, as every enemy that stepped into his way was cut down without slowing his advance.
Blood sprayed and bodies fell behind him, but he didn’t spare them a second glance as his focus locked onto the single point ahead where everything was about to break.
From within the shadows, Rafe saw him.
His eyes tracked Myles’s movement the moment it began. The shift in direction and the urgency behind it standing out clearly even amidst the chaos.
The faint smile on his face returned as he watched Myles carve through the battlefield with relentless speed, and in that instant he recognized the threat with precise clarity. This was the one he could not ignore.
The one who could still turn everything around.
Rafe adjusted his position silently. His presence fading deeper into the chaos as his attention locked onto Myles with sharpened intent.
At the center, Red moved.
He lunged forward with brutal speed, his body closing the distance toward Michael in a single explosive motion as his short sword cut down with killing intent aimed directly at the man on the ground.
Michael reacted, forcing his body to move despite the pain and the disorientation still clouding his mind. His spear rose to intercept the strike at the last possible moment.
The clash rang out sharply, but the difference was already clear.
Michael’s arms trembled under the impact as he struggled to hold the weapon steady, his strength no longer matching the force behind Red’s attack.
His breathing came uneven as the panic he had tried to suppress began to rise again, fed by the knowledge of what was happening around him and the fear of losing everything he had brought into this battle.
Another strike came immediately. Then another.
Red pressed down relentlessly. His attacks chained together without pause as he gave Michael no space to recover or think.
Michael blocked again and again, but each of his movements became slower, heavier, and less certain than the last as the weight of the situation dragged him down further.
His mind fractured between the fight in front of him and the chaos around him.
The screams of his men.
The image of them dying falling.
The realization that he was losing control.
It all pressed into him at once and broke the last of his stability as his defense began to falter more visibly with each passing second.
Red saw it. So he pushed harder.
"Where is your power now, Michael?" Red’s voice tore through the clash as his blade came down again, then again, it crashed against Michael’s weakening defense.
"Where is that explosive fire? Where is it?!" The words came between strikes, jagged and relentless, pressing into Michael’s mind as much as the steel pressed into his body.
Michael raised his spear again and again, forcing himself to block despite the strain building through his arms. But his movements had already lost their sharpness and the strength behind them no longer matched what it had been moments ago.
The dim fire around his weapon flickered weakly, unable to surge the way it had before, and every impact drove him closer to breaking.
Red didn’t stop.
His blade cut down once more, then shifted angle and came from the side in a faster and more vicious strike that forced Michael to twist his body awkwardly just to keep it from cutting through him.
Sparks burst from the clash, but the pressure behind it shoved him further along the ground as his footing failed to stabilize.
Then Red spoke again.
"You remember, don’t you?" His voice dropped lower, but the venom inside it only deepened as his blade rose and fell once more. "How I took her from you... how she begged... how she screamed...!"
The next strike slammed down harder than the rest.
"How I raped her... and killed her?!"
The words hit deeper than the blade.
Michael’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second as something inside him snapped back into place, not as strength but as memory, raw and vivid as if it had never left. He saw her again. Her face filled his vision with unbearable clarity.
The fear in her eyes. The way her voice shook as she pleaded. The way she reached out for him when he wasn’t there.
"No... stop... please..."
The image burned into him, dragging his mind away from the present, but it didn’t stop there.
Another image overlapped it.
The battlefield. His people.
He saw them dying one by one. He saw the panic in their movements and the confusion in their eyes as they were cut down.
He heard their voices calling out in fear.
It collided with the memory of her.
And the realization followed.
If not for him... would they still be alive?
If he hadn’t dragged them into this... if he hadn’t turned against Red... if they had just remained where they were...
Would they still be standing right now?
Had he been the one who led them here... only to die?
The thought sank deep and didn’t leave.
His grip weakened.
The next strike came.
Michael raised his spear, but it came too slow.
The impact slammed through his guard and knocked his weapon aside as the force drove straight into his body, sending him crashing harder against the shattered ground.
Pain shot through him, but it barely registered as his mind remained trapped between what had happened and what was happening now.
Red stepped in again.
His sword rose once more as his grin widened, sensing exactly what had just broken inside Michael.
—
