He couldn't take his eyes off the girl.

There was the corpse of a boy lying close by, but, even so, it was she who drew the eye. That was because he had a daughter about her age. They didn't look anything alike, apart from that, but it wasn't too hard to imagine his daughter on the ground, covered in blood, in his place.

It was selfish. It was hypocritical. In any case, his body didn't respond to his commands.

Even though he had come here with orders to indiscriminately kill men, women and children. Even though he was a soldier, and this was his job.

To get blood on his hands for the greater good.

Yes, for a just cause. For the good of all... except those who would be dead. Looking into the girl's eyes, misty, glass-like, he found it hard to believe that any of this could bring a better future.

His hands were shaking. Not enough to make the rifle he held slip through his fingers, but close.

How ridiculous. He was only twenty-five, but he'd killed more people than he could count. More than he could even remember. And now he was busy navel-gazing. Shivering like a baby in the middle of enemy territory, where at any moment people with inhuman powers could attack them.

Smash his head in, tear out his heart, every limb, one by one, that and a thousand other possibilities.

And that's just counting the simple, straightforward ones. The ones they could replicate using technology. People of Albion could kill in more esoteric ways and deal out fates worse than death just like that, like the monsters they were.

That was definitely not wrong. They had started a war and despised them, for they were people touched by the divine and they were mere mortals.

Therefore, the natural thing to do was to strike back at them, he couldn't blame his government for making the decision. This was necessary. Even if he didn't have the stomach for it, someone would have to take his place, and that would be good.

And yet... What?

His trembling wouldn't stop. His frozen body was unable to get going again.

Regardless of facts, regardless of logic, regardless of what he was aware of, this was reality carved in stone.

He felt a hand on his back.

He turned around abruptly, raising the rifle, putting his finger on the trigger.

He was about to pull it and unload a hail of bullets on one of his comrades, who had appeared out of nowhere. He felt like a child whose mother had caught him doing something foolish.

"What are you standing here for?" the man muttered to him.

He didn't know his name. In fact, he didn't know half the men he had come to raid the academy with. Not by sight, not personally.

He opened his mouth, searching for an answer. Finding none, he closed it without a word.

He had a better question.

How long had he been standing here, brooding? Being consumed by a sense of guilt that made no sense? In any case, he hadn't found an answer so far, so he wouldn't do it no matter how hard this man pressed him.

No matter how much he longed to explain himself, to justify himself. To himself? Just to himself, really?

Grimacing, he looked away.

"Enough," he answered simply. It was the only thing he could say while being a hundred percent sure he was being sincere.

"Well, come on. We've got work to do. "

Work. What a word to use for something like this.

He looked around, this time his eyes passed over the corpses, focused on the bloodstains everywhere.

His mind focused on the silence of the forest.

Silence, even though a battle was raging. It was absurd, but he had the feeling that the darkness of this forest was judging him.

"What the hell is wrong with you? Do you want to stay here?"

"Do you think this is right?" he asked, unable to resist.

His companion looked surprised. But only for a moment.

"Those are very dangerous words. "

I know that better than anyone.

"They are words that will not fall on anyone's ears. The only ones who are with us at this time are the dead. Besides, I didn't ask you what the others would think if they heard you. I asked you what you think of this. "

There was a long silence.

"What do you want to hear? "

Answering a question with a question. Such bad taste.

"The truth! Nothing more and nothing less than the truth. "

He put a trembling hand to his face, covering it. He demanded the truth, but he couldn't face himself, let alone the truth he supposedly wanted so badly.

"Do you want the truth? Okay, the truth is you're a bad joke. Are you feeling guilty precisely now? This isn't a special moment, kid. Kids aren't dying because we attacked an academy. War brings death. And worse things than death. And the children don't escape it, no, no, quite the contrary. They are the ones who suffer the most. Do you understand? Even when they escape death, which may be the most likely thing, there is nothing but a life of suffering awaiting them as they watch everything and everyone they love fall and die.

And we are the bastards who create for them that hell on earth. If you didn't understand this truth from the beginning or can't stand it now, you shouldn't have become a soldier in the first place. But, anyway, I'm not going to leave you here. Let's stop wasting time. "

"I have a suicide pill, like everyone else. " He moved his hand slowly down his face, as if groping for something, then dropped it. You don't have to worry about me getting caught.

"It's not about that, you idiot. "

He grabbed her hand and tugged on it. Forcing him to look at him, whether he wanted to or not.

"Then what? "

"We're soldiers. We're family. "

He looked him in the eye for the first time since the conversation had begun.

"How do you stand it? "

"... I don't remember why I stepped forward. I don't remember why I enlisted even though anyone, literally anyone, could have been a replacement for me. I'm not someone special. So, in the lowest moments, what I do is remember my family. "

"What about right and wrong?"

With every word out of his mouth, he felt more and more like a lost child.

His partner, no, his brother smiled sadly.

"I don't remember any of that either. "

■

Desmond stopped his run abruptly. He arched his back like a bow. He had had an ominous feeling that proved to be true shortly afterwards. But well, he hadn't hesitated for a moment. His instincts had never led him astray.

Now it was no different. He was like a hunting dog, he never missed.

That special sense of smell he possessed would allow him to ambush a group that was undoubtedly made up of Azure Empire soldiers, advancing along the path, rather than them ambushing him. He was confident that he could withstand more than a few shots before he fell, regardless of the weapon they used against him.

However, he could not afford to go from confidence to arrogance.

This might be the woods of the Four Seasons Academy, but he and all the prospective students, as well as the teaching staff, were in enemy territory. Not the other way around.

They had come out of nowhere and, as quickly as they had appeared, it could be said that they had already taken control of the academy grounds.

That was a most unpleasant thought that fed his bloodlust.

As if he needed it.

That thirst would never be quenched.

He ran after the soldiers as they passed, sword in one hand and pistol in the other, and stopped again. This time not of his own volition. A circle of energy rose from the ground, trapping him with the soldiers, warning them of his presence indirectly.

He noticed that not with all the soldiers. One half had been left out.

It didn't matter.

This was a magic circle that could keep people in, no doubt it would also serve against magical attacks, but bullets would pass through the wall of energy as if there was nothing there.

If there was an advantage to this, it was that it was a narrow space. In other words, the soldiers could end up shooting their own if they were careless.

“A pistol," said one of the soldiers, seconds before the bullets fired from his side of the field, together, as a single entity, drowned out his voice raised in surprise.

Even they were surprised that he was using the weapon of the enemy. This was no time to think about things like that. This was a life and death situation.

But it was irritating, he had to admit.

Wherever he went, it was always the same thing.

He went on the attack. He vaguely noticed that, contrary to expectations, the bullets fired by the part of the group that had been left out bounced off the energy wall instead of going through it.

That didn't change that he was in a bind, every advantage he could think of about fighting in this tight space was also a disadvantage.

But it was something.

Considering he'd been running through the forest for ten minutes, that he was alone in enemy territory, the situation once things inevitably went awry could have been far worse than this.

He stepped into their midst, swinging his sword wildly, firing his pistol without hesitation.

For he had no reason to hesitate, unlike his enemies. He had no need to fear shooting one of his comrades accidentally, for he fought alone.

Some would say that this advantage was not at the same time a disadvantage. But, as he had expected, whether it was because those of the Empire were heartless monsters or because of fear, pure and simple, they fired despite the high risk of killing each other as soon as they made the slightest mistake.

A risk, well, more like inevitable. As it soon became clear.

As good as they were, a stray bullet ended up in the neck of one of the soldiers, who collapsed with his hands around his neck, futilely trying to stop a cascade of blood.

One of them lost his composure. With a face as white as chalk, he looked at him.

And that was the last thing he saw. His companion writhing on the ground, albeit rather weakly, from involuntary spasms, for that was the only strength he had left after the bullet had torn through his neck.

The image wasn't burned into the dead man's vision because he killed him by severing his head not from the neck, but with a diagonal cut above the nose. The eyes ended up in pieces too, as well as his skull.

Soon he had dispatched all the others as well, littering the ground with blood and body parts.

More often than not, not whole ones.

While the enemy soldiers waiting outside could do nothing but watch the horrible spectacle, helpless. They had come here to carry out a slaughter and now they dared to look at him as if he were a demon out of hell, stained with blood and guts.

This is only natural, he thought, twirling his sword from which blood flowed like water. This is what you deserve.

An echo of a thought that had crossed his mind not so long ago. Or perhaps he had spoken it aloud? In any case, of course it was an idea that recurred in his thoughts. It was the only emotion he reserved for those animals, after all.

Well, not really, but he didn't have time to waste in giving them what they richly deserved. That would be for the soldiers left alive after the attack. And their treatment would be out of his hands.

Even though he had already killed all the soldiers left inside, the barrier created by the magic circle still stood, trapping him within.

This would be the moment to start worrying that he was really trapped, that he would have to wait for one of his people to find him and get him out of here, unable to do anything. What would be a dream situation for any of the aspirants involved in this madness was terrifying for him.

Just the thought of it made his stomach turn, threatening to spill back its contents.

To stay safe while others fought and died... Never! Not even one more time!

But fortunately, he didn't have to worry about such a terrible thing happening. This magic circle was undoubtedly one of the surprises awaiting them that the teacher had spoken of before sending them into the forest.

An area that would trap anyone who passed through, forcing them to fight if they wanted to get out.

To avoid getting hit, if they didn't want it to end in mutual elimination in the worst-case scenario. It was a good way to complicate what would otherwise have been an obstacle course. Devilish, but an obstacle course nonetheless.

That alone couldn't prove that they were worthy of studying at the academy.

So the barrier would disappear at any second. And when it did, he would be ready.

To continue the slaughter.

Because, even though the soldiers didn't seem sure of their chances, they hadn't run away with their tails between their legs either.

The barrier fell.

Desmond rushed at them quickly, as quickly as if he had managed to anticipate the right moment. But that didn't save him from being shot. The soldiers corrected their aim and one of them hit him in the knee.

However, he didn't let that stop him.

Desmond kept running. And, taking advantage of the momentum of his movement, he delivered a blow with all his might. The sword cleaved in half the enemy that was, no, that a moment ago had been in front of him. Now he was just two lumps of flesh, side by side, and more patches of red to sully the quiet beauty of the forest.

Before the sword completed the arc of its movement, he fired three times, exhausting the bullets in the chamber.

Uselessly.

There was room for up to eight bullets, and so far, he had hit every shot. But now not a single one hit the target, like some kind of karma.

Anyway, the gun might be worn out, but that didn't mean it was useless as a weapon.

It was still heavy, hard.

Desmond threw the pistol as if it were a projectile itself.

The remaining soldiers had dodged all three bullets, whether by luck, skill or a mixture of the two. This time, however, it was not enough, no matter why. The gun hit one of them square in the face, knocking him off balance.

Giving him enough time to grab the soldier closest to him, put an arm around him and turn him around. Thus, he had access to the gun he was carrying, which could fire many more than eight bullets at a time, for it was no mere pistol.

Placing his hands over those of the enemy holding the rifle, he opened fire, killing his comrades.

Then he dropped what would soon be a bullet-riddled corpse, yet another he hadn't had to kill.

He walked away. Listening to him drown in his own blood.

He wasn't the kind of madman who would stop to listen to such a thing with a smile on his face, whether it was happening to one of his sworn enemies or not.

But... it wasn't an unpleasant sound. He had to admit that.