The five of them continued sloshing through the knee high waters of the swamp, bringing their legs up with each step to keep a consistent speed, with Xaleyp leading the line. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, they reached the base of the mountain and the unguarded sewer grate they were looking for. The smell of smoke was still thick in the air—either that, or it attached itself to their bodies, traveling with them. In the distance to their right were the competing lights of New Alexandria with that of the blues and greens of encroaching dawn.

Far to their left were the towering walls of Nevermoor Hold, though crumbling in some sections from the force of the assault. Shouts and gunshots reached them, and flashes of light flashed on either side of the fray, neither one wanting to be the one that gave in. The dropships hovered in the air, the guns at their noses unleashing deadly torrents of bullets and strafing any which way to avoid the bevy of rockets being slung at it. After several seconds of watching, one struck its target, and the dropship’s tail erupted with an explosion, followed by a trail of smoke as it spiraled and attempted to maintain altitude before eventually crashing into one of the guard towers, tearing into it and coming to a rest halfway through.

Xaleyp shook his head and looked at the sewer grate, where a steady trickle of water was spilling out from the bottom and cascading down the craggy mountain face. The metal lattice blocking the passage was pristine as the day it was installed, without even a flake of rust on it. Beyond lay a circular tunnel disappearing around a corner and overtaken by thick vines hanging from the ceiling.

“Adric, you’re up.” Xaleyp stood to the side, stepping onto a natural stone platform jutting out from the side of the mountain. “Cut us in.”

The man nodded and moved forward, pulling the plasma cutter from his belt as he approached and pushing it against the metal. A high pitched whine came from it as it cut through the bars, leaving each with a dull orange glow—which faded to a dark gray within seconds—when he pulled away and switched to the next one. The other three watched the surrounding swamp to ensure that no Arcadians were sneaking up on them. It seemed that the main attention had been successfully diverted as two dropships bearing an eagle crest flew overhead and began firing on the tree line. A barrage of bullets ripped through the leaves and bark, sending splinters and dust in every direction. Several of the trees collapsed, falling to the ground with a groan and thud audible even from the distance they were at. Soon, however, rockets flared from the ground forces, and the Arcadian dropships scattered to avoid the missiles. One struck its target, sending the bird spiraling to the ground where it dug a trough through the land before laying still.

After several tense minutes, Adric pulled the metal grate free from the side of the mountain with a grunt. He carried it off and set it against the stone before gesturing for the others to lead the way in, which Xaleyp was more than happy to do. Eve and Mian were the first to follow with Scarecrow close behind. Adric was the last to approach, hesitating for a moment as his eyes flicked between the dingy hole and the chaos of the battlefield before climbing over the threshold and not looking back.

In the sewer tunnel, a certain amount of ambient light was available, but it did little to help them see much more than each other and the walls. With a flick of a switch, a light activated at the front of each of their assault rifles one by one. The walls and ceiling were mostly made of stone and reinforced with metal in places, particularly where it turned in places that were rather unnatural. A narrow stream, barely up to the middle of their shins, ran down the middle of the tunnel, splashing with each step they took. Somewhere was an echoing drip-drip-drip of slowly but steadily leaking water. At either side in alternating order were small alcoves leading to more grates blocking passages which disappeared around dark corners. Rats scurried at the sight of the lights, chittering and vanishing into the darkness ahead and behind them.

“How did I get wrapped up in this shit?” Adric muttered under his breath from the back, his voice carrying perhaps further than he intended in the relative quiet of the tunnel.

“If you want to go back, by all means, go ahead and see if I stop you,” Xaleyp said, keeping his eyes scanning the tunnel ahead of him. His voice leaked malice that he didn’t bother attempting to hide. If Adric didn’t trust him, it would be better if he left and let him get on with the mission. “I’d rather you scamper off now than wait until I’m relying on your help and suddenly you’re gone.”

As he finished the sentence, a rumble ran through the tunnel, causing dust to cascade down on their heads. Adric knelt to one knee, bringing his assault rifle up and aiming it back the way they came as a brief flash of light lit up the tunnel before a small avalanche of rocks and metal to collapse at the last turn they made. Scarecrow walked back to Adric and placed a hand on the man’s shoulder, an almost eerie grin on his face.

“Guess you’re stuck with us now, aren’t ya?”

“Cut the chatter, Scarecrow, and keep moving, everyone.” Xaleyp shrugged his shoulders to ease the tension building in them from carrying the heavy rifle for so long. “We still have a long way to go.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than hurried shouting came from the direction they were traveling, followed by narrow beams of light dancing in chaotic patterns over the wall. A group of six Arcadians rounded the corner, their insect-like armor accented in the near darkness of the tunnel. Scarecrow shouted in surprise—as did the Arcadians—and flashes of light lit up the walls, accompanied by the sharp reports of gunfire. A bullet whistled by Xaleyp’s ear, narrowly missing him, before he dove down one of the side tunnels. Mian and Eve ducked around one slightly further back, and Scarecrow quickly followed as he shot over his shoulder at the approaching Arcadians. Adric slid in next to Xaleyp, breathing heavily and clutching at his arm.

“Bastards nicked me,” he whispered, his breathing coming fast.

Xaleyp looked over and saw a steady flow of blood coming out from between his fingers, dripping silently to the ground. Gunfire was traded up and down the tunnel, the bullets ricocheting off metal and impacting dully into flesh followed by a shout. The sound of more running footsteps came from the Arcadian side, the splashing of their movements from around the corner echoing in the silence between bursts.

“That’s more than a nick, Adric,” Xaleyp said, pointing his rifle light at the spot.

A large, gaping wound was in the man’s arm, convulsing slightly with each panicked beat of his heart. Xaleyp felt his own blood roaring in his ears and racing through his veins as he tried to think of what to do, but his mind went completely empty. He moved to do something, anything to stem the flow of blood, but Adric stopped him, pushing Xaleyp away with his good arm. In his hand was the small brick of tritinium.

“Leave it, I’m dead anyway.” He moved his arm and revealed another hole in the middle of his chest then made a gesture with the block in his hand. “Hudson gave it to me while we were on the truck—said he thought I would find a better use for it or something—but he forgot to give me the remote detonator so I have to do it manually. Please, just let me go out on my own terms for my god.”

Xaleyp saw the look of determination sprinkled with fear in the man’s eyes and nodded solemnly despite every instinct inside him yelling at him, attempting to convince him that he couldn’t lose another member of his team, especially not like this.

Adric tried to grin at him, but it came out as more of a grimace as he used his assault rifle to stand over, wavering slightly. He moved towards the intersection, staggering with each step. In the tunnel, there was shouting in the unfamiliar Arcadian language as they moved into position. No bullets were flying now, and a heavy air of silence filled the area. However, amid the noise, a new voice came, overpowering the rest and filling the tunnels.

“Xaaaleyyyyp,” said the voice in a singsong tone, “come out and plaaaaaayyyy.”

Though he didn’t recognize it, just the simple words sent a chill down his spine. What the hell kind of game were the Arcadians playing, and why did they sound so god damn happy about this?

“Fi aman Allah,” Adric said, turning back to Xaleyp and bowing his head, who returned it. The man turned back to the opening walked through, holding his hands up and being very careful to hide the explosive as best he could. He cleared his throat and yelled to the Arcadians, “I wish to negotiate for our surrender. May I approach?”

There was an affirmative noise from the Arcadians, and Adric walked forward, trying his best not to move too quickly, though the two bullet wounds helped with that. After several tense seconds of gentle splashing from his footsteps and the echoing drip of blood, there was a yell of surprise. A few gunshots rang out, followed quickly by an explosion. The fire tore through the tunnel, some of it flaring out at Xaleyp who held his arm up to block it. A rumble ran through the tunnel and parts of the ceiling came down in small chunks, cascading down into the water. Shrill screaming pierced the air, echoing in the tunnel and the agony within the noise engraving itself in Xaleyp’s mind.

Was this the right thing? All these people, with parents and children and spouses and brothers and sisters, dying just because he wanted to get revenge, because he was angry? How could he justify so much death, so much destruction? The needless nature of war showed itself to him time and time again, each time with him ignoring it because he was too blind to see it. Now, though, was it too late? Was he already too far along this path to turn back and make all those people—Colonel Diaspora, Hudson, Adric, all those God’s Machine soldiers, even the Arcadians—have wasted their lives for no reason?

He could turn back now, wash his hands of this and hide in the swamp or find his way to some unknown planet across the galaxy, but what then, and what of the loss and destruction that has already followed him? Were they just worthless pawns to be sacrificed for the protection of their king? No, these were breathing living beings, regardless of what actions their leaders may have taken, but if he turned back now, then everyone that already died would have wasted their lives for no reason to get him this far. He had to continue, not for himself, but to make sure that those who came before him were honored the way they deserved.

Xaleyp slowly walked to the intersection with the main tunnel and looked to his right where the Arcadians had come from. A few fires were crackling on their clothing and petering out, and a small amount of steam and smoke clung to the ceiling from the explosion, slowly dispersing over the area. Some of the stone and metal from above was missing, leaving gaping holes of dirt where they were once lodged. One or two Arcadians writhed in pain on the ground, and another tried to crawl away back where they came. Adric’s body was recognizable simply by the fact that it was the only one wearing a different type of armor, though, otherwise, it was entirely unfamiliar from the mangling of the bomb.

He walked up to one of the Arcadians, pulling the trigger of his assault rifle and putting them out of their misery. However, when he approached the second, the man on the ground, his right leg missing from below the knee and a chunk gone from his shoulder, shuddered with quiet laughter and had a wide grin on his face. The same grin as the technician in the diner, and the two Arcadians in the park when he and Mian retrieved the passes.

“Xaaaleyyyyp,” the man said in the same singsong voice, though now somewhat strained. Another bout of laughter ran through him, shaking his body and forcing blood to leak quicker from his wounds. “How many people are you going to let die for you? How many people will you trample over before you finally give in? First Lina when you thought you could save her, then all those innocent civilians in ArcDefense, and Colonel Diaspora and Hudson. How many is too many for the great, unstoppable Xaleyp Vah’Aris?”

Xaleyp didn’t know what to say, and instead looked away and stared at the wall as he pulled the trigger again. The noise from the gunshot reverberated off the walls and drew the attention of Eve, Mian, and Scarecrow, who carefully made their way forward.

“Adric didn’t make it,” Xaleyp said, turning and walking down the tunnel from where the Arcadians came. He shrugged his arm to get them to follow him, as well as in an attempt to no longer feel the chill running down his spine. “Come on, we have to make sure he didn’t die in vain.”

Slowly and choosing their steps carefully to not step on any of the bodies, the three of them followed.