Clang!
Lior's blade exchanged blows with another.
His foot acted as a pivot, to prepare another strike.
His eyes were troubled, as a recent conversation played back in his mind.
"Commander!"
"Is it true?—Did—did Leith really make it past the assessment?!"
Lior asked, panting.
"Who—oh, you must be Lior Cindrel."
The commander looked out a balcony, observing as the 10th Division sparred.
Lior stepped next to him, resting his arms on the railing.
"Yes, that's right—Laziel has indeed recently joined the ranks of the 10th Division."
"I'm quite surprised to see you here, Cindrel—it seems the purge finally forced you out of your shell."
Lior's smile slowly faded
The commander, realizing he may have stepped out of line, switched topics.
"What relation do you have with Laziel, Cindrel?—You seemed quite enthusiastic about him joining the ASPs, I'd assume you two are quite close."
"That's right—well, I'd like to see it that way at least."
"Is that so?—How did you two meet?"
He asked, clamping the cigarette between his fingers.
Blades clashing, echoed beneath them.
"It's a long story…"
Lior exhaled, pausing for a moment.
"I met Leith around seven years ago, in some dark alleyway—at the time, I was coincidentally being attacked by some lowly thugs, and the idiot jumped out of nowhere, and fought them off."
"I didn't know what to think—I mean, it was obvious he didn't have any trace of atheris, so I immediately thought of him as some masochistic imbecile trying his best to play hero."
The sharp symphony of blade—crisp and lethal sounded, prompting an abrupt pause in Lior's speech.
"But I was wrong—for better, or for worse—he turned out to be the most idiotically selfless person I had ever met."
"Even after he was given that wretched title, he would still try his best to consider how others—especially the people who did him wrong—felt, even going so far as to entertain their barrages of taunts, day after day—if it just meant they had someone to blame."
"You knew him before the incident, and you still kept him as company?—I don't know, Cindrel—you might be the real fool here."
He chuckled—an unrequited attempt to lighten the mood.
"But I knew it was all a lie, and so did he."
The commander paused briefly, a disappointed look in his eye.
"What made you think it was a lie?"
"Trying to break ties with his parents, with me, and with anyone else who got too close to him just to protect them—no way someone like that would cause such a massacre."
He replied firmly, his gaze sharpened.
The commander remained silent for a while before letting out a quiet sigh.
Screech!
Bright red sparks manifested as a result of the scraping of Lior's blade.
He twisted his wrist around the hilt, now holding the blade like a dagger.
"I'm sorry, Cindrel."
He whispered, but he wasn't done…
With a swift swing, he sliced the sentries arm clean off—the wet squelch of the tearing of muscle resonated.
Now readjusting his stance to deliver a blow to its achilles tendon, Lior swung the hilt around—now holding the blade upright.
It fell on its knees—he promptly pushed it back, and with one final blow…
"I guess—you fell for it too…"
Shlck!
The sentries throat muttered a soft crunch as Lior's blade punctured clean through—sending a shiver through the hilt.
His eye's—stagnant in their state of distress, remained fixed on the defeated sentry.
Session Complete, Please Approach the Terminal to Start Again.
"What do you mean?"
The commander paused, before turning to face Lior.
"Leith Laziel—is a…"
"Move it Lior, it's my turn—you've been here for hours."
"Huh…—right—sorry, go ahead."
No, that can't be right.
Leith—those accusations could—never be true…
Lior's state of distraught was observed by Leith, who stood at a window looking into the training hall.
He lurked in silence, studying Lior fight sentry after sentry.
In his hand—a cold metallic lunch tray.
The lunchroom was a vast expanse vacant of any sense of happiness—rather, all that occupied it was dread.
Veterans of the 10th Division scattered around the room, feasting on their scarce rations in silence—out of misery, boredom—who really knows?
Spontaneous chatter broke the streak of agonizing silence.
The new generation of the 10th Division strolled into the room, gleaming with confidence—a complete contrast to those around them.
Among them was Drelan.
"Man, I can't wait to get into one of those cool mechs."
"Cool?—those things look really intimidating, have you seen how it looks when it stands upright?"
"Hey Drelan, you were talking with the general earlier right?—When's our debut?"
"Come on Elian, why would he know something like that?"
"What?—Don't tell me you didn't hear—he's going to be the captain on our debut expedition."
"Captain of our debut?—that's seriously impressive Drelan."
Leith's grip on his plate tightened upon overhearing that last line.
He turned to face the group—walking in their direction.
Adjacent to him was Drelan, whom he promptly 'accidently' bumped into.
"Hey, watch it—"
"Wait, you're that 'print' guy, aren't you?"
Drelan exclaimed with a smug smirk.
Leith attempted to keep walking, before a hand grabbed his shoulder.
"I wasn't done talking—you should respect your superiors."
"Superior?"
"Who said anything about you being my superior?"
"What?—are you serious, print?"
He chuckled, taking a step towards Leith while puffing his chest with arrogance.
"I am—our exam never got the chance to conclude traditionally—meaning, your position is nothing but a sham."
Leith said, his expression ticking off Drelan, who was stunned at his sudden rebelling reply.
Drelan clenched his fist—wiping the face of confusion off his face and regressing back to his prior smug look.
"You—"
"But that's all the reason to pick a fight, right Drelan?"
"You couldn't express your 'all so great' power in the assessment, so you decide now's the time to flaunt how high and mighty you are."
Leith turned around, stirring up a rage in Drelan.
On his face, was a sickening grin.
"But of course, your strength must come with an equal affinity for humility—that's how I think of you at least…"
Leith added.
"So you rather me display my power in an exclusively professional setting, is that it?"
"Take it as you will, 'Drelan'."
He replied mockingly—walking away.
On the brink of eruption, Drelan's decisiveness trembled—holding himself back from tearing Leith apart.
Leith had left Drelan—a ticking bomb whose fuse was succumbing to the slithering of flame.
He moved on, as he now sought after the next puppet whose strings he can leave tangled.
"Hello, general…"
Leith said, approaching the general—arms crossed.
A breeze swept across them by the azure sky.
"What business does vermin like you have with me?"
He replied unwelcomingly.
Leith kept his distance.
"I believe I didn't fully get my point across the last time we talked."
"After all, you only lifted your blade because of the commander, right?"
Leith said as a cold yet minor grin formed.
"And?"
"Your word is absolute in this sector, isn't it?"
"Therefore, that means I won't be favoured for deployment on the debut mission, and you know I can't accept that, right general?"
"So you've come here to persuade me?—How much of a fool do you take me as, print…"
He chuckled sarcastically.
Leith came to an abrupt silence.
Snowflakes cascaded upon them, as their expressions got serious.
"I don't like to contradict myself."
Leith exclaimed in an expressionless tone.
"What?"
"I told you before, words are nothing but shallow promises meant to please the delusional…"
Footsteps manifested around the corner.
"Hey Print!"
A voice abruptly yelled out.
"I don't see you as a fool, general, and that's why I should offer you something more valuable than mere words…"
"You wanted a proper display, didn't you?"
Drelan exclaimed, throwing a blade onto the ground.
The cold steel of the blade reflected Leith's unpredictability—it was a real sword.
"What—what do you think you're doing?"
"Like I said, general…"
Leith whispered, picking up the blade.
"I don't like to contradict myself."
He added.
A crowd of the 10th Division began to form, following Drelans taunting.
"Leith!"
Lior emerged from the crowd, frantically pushing his way through.
Drelans friends held him back.
"What the hell do you guys think you're doing!"
He coiled—his arms waving around in a panic.
"Come on then, Print."
"Let's see if my position was really nothing but a 'sham'."
He announced, yellow sparks of electricity sprung around his vest.
His eye's now glowing a bright gold.
Drelan gripped the hilt in his hand, as its electricity began to wrap its blade.
Leith remained expressionless, not even assuming a stance.
Murmurs echoed throughout the crowd, accompanied by Liors struggling.
Zzzzzzzz—
The crackles of intense sparks instigated an abrupt silence, as well as an uproar in anticipation.
Drelan charged at Leith.
Clang!
Leith's blade clashed with Drelan, sparks scraping his cheek.
Drelan took another swing instantaneously, only for it to be another redundant failure.
Leith blocked swing after swing—Drelan's expression shifting to one of impatience and confusion after every one.
The crowd broke into a smirk as the crackling roar of Drelan's atheris erupted—yet they soon questioned their own confidence.
Lior buckled, no longer attempting to break free—his face, one of astonishment, yet fear.
"Lior…—isn't that—how you fight?"
No way, right?....
Screech!
Leith's defense began to falter, not due to any potential of defeat—rather due to his slow transition to offense.
The more impatient Drelan got, the more Leith began to strike back.
"DAMN YOU PRINTTT!"
Leith's eyes sharpened as Drelan leapt up, raising his arm to provide a heavy blow.
In one fell swoop, Leith swung the hilt of his blade around, now holding it like a dagger.
The veins in Drelans arm began to glow brighter abruptly.
Leith would never do something so heinous, right?...
Shluck—!
Pellets of blood rained down, as Leith punctured the vein dense with atheris in one swift swing.
Drelans arm had imploded from the inside out, as sparks of his atheris, strung together like a web, flew out of his mutilated arm.
So why am I standing here, watching my helpless friend fight for his life?
What—am I expecting exactly?
He yelped in agony, but before he could reassess his situation, Leith swung again whilst swinging his hilt around to hold it upright.
A frightening slash appeared on Drelans ankle, as he fell to one knee.
"NOOOO!—DRELANNN!!!"
The general cried out, taking leaping steps forward.
Leith kicked him down to the ground, before pouncing on him.
Without any gathering of momentum, Leith shot his arm down in a stabbing motion towards Drelans face.
"STOPPPP!!!!"
Clang—CRACK!
A deafening clash of blades screeched as shrapnels of steel scattered.
A single drop of blood streamed down Leith's cheek after being grazed—his blade had been shattered in two, as another blade was thrown right at it.
Inches away from Drelans eye, was the remaining piece of Leiths blade.
The crowd gasped, before the scene became encompassed in silence.
Drelan laid there, panting—his face contorted into one of fear, and shock.
The general's arm—reached out in a helpless fit of panic, remained in front of him, as he stood there, baffled.
"General, if I hadn't thrown that blade…"
The commander emerged from within the crowd—a white glow in his eyes.
"Then Drelan here—would have certainly died..."
Leith stood up, throwing his broken blade to the ground.
His expressionless look struck fear into the crowd.
He broke the silence.
"Well?"
"Are you satisfied, general?—Or would you rather me slaughter all these useless pigs until I'm the only asset you have left to deploy?"
Leith asked, staring the general down directly.
His question landed without an answer—the general couldn't reply out of disbelief of what he had just witnessed.
The air was encumbered in overwhelming dread, and terror.
Members of the crowd began to back away slowly.
Beneath Leith, resonated a peep, followed by strained words.
"What the hell—are you…?"