But that was the least of it.

This could not win them the fight. But it would buy them time and, more importantly, it would buy their savior time.

If anyone could get them out of this mess it was her. So, as long as this shield lasted, they could stay here quietly, concentrating on conserving their strength and licking their wounds, preparing for the inevitable battle. For even fleeing would be a great battle from which he wasn't sure if they would come out alive.

Not all of them, at least, and for even one of them to fall would be something... unacceptable.

His savior stepped out of the darkness.

Laura realized it almost instantly, turned with her pistol, took aim and fired in another tenth of a second. But it didn't do her any good. The woman in white grabbed one of the soldiers and dragged him in front of her, using him as a human shield.

The shot killed him, blowing his head off. His savior wasted no time. She lifted the corpse with one hand and threw it towards his companions.

The force of the impact pulled more than one to the ground. She also deflected the shot of someone who had just pulled the trigger.

So, instead of firing in the direction of his savior, what he did was to wound his companions.

His savior was holding a knife in her left hand.

With the first glance he knew it was no ordinary knife, just as he knew she was no mere human being.

She soon proved him right. That knife was sharper than any other he had ever seen, sharper even than a sword would be. It cut, ignoring armor and anything in the way, as if it wasn't there.

He even saw it split a rifle in two with a single slash. As if it were made of paper.

As if the whole world was as fragile as paper, before her blade.

Even if she had dipped the knife in the blood of a powerful mage, in her own blood maybe, it would not produce such a shocking effect. The material it was made of was special in itself. That, at least, was clear.

She was unstoppable. Blindingly fast, with a knife that cut through everything, and her wounds were already healing.

Even the fabric of her shirt shredded by the volley of bullets was regenerating. So what she had wasn't true regeneration, but something that went back in time automatically, back to its original state, or something like that.

No, wait. If so, the blood would have had to disappear too, wouldn't it?

But it was still there, staining her white clothes. Her pure body.

That didn't make sense. Well, not that he could see. Or did it? Maybe... maybe the blood didn't count as part of her body, now that it was outside. That wasn't a bad idea.

But then her clothes, no matter how tightly they were attached to her body, why did they count?

Well, the thing was, it was working. And at a great speed.

He didn't need to know any more.

He was curious, but satisfying his curiosity was the least of his problems now.

After taking out four or five soldiers, his savior was disappearing back into the darkness, into the trees. He couldn't hear what was going on outside, but he could see that Laura ordered her men to chase her. To get into her territory.

And that they hadn't been able to do anything against her even when his savior had willingly abandoned it.

This was bound to end badly. For those sons of bitches.

"Amy, I'm sorry I dragged you here," Christina said, barely able to speak, barely able to breathe. "If I had known... No, I can't even say that. I'm sure I would have followed the same steps, anyway. Just trying to do better."

"It's not the time for this," Amy replied. " And it doesn't matter."

"No. It does matter. You could be lying in bed right now. Worried to death, unable to sleep, it's true. But safe. I..."

"You pushed. You helped me make the decision more quickly. But only that. I'm here of my own free will. I would have ended up making the same decision, even without your help, knowing that I would regret it for the rest of my life if I didn't."

Desmond was moved. For the two of them, who were willing to go to such lengths for him. He should have felt since he had first heard that the two had come for him. But back then he had only had time to feel fear.

Since this madness had begun, this was the first time he could allow himself a moment of peace.

A moment to get in touch with "unnecessary" emotions.

"Things have ended up like this, but I have no regrets, at least this outcome is due to the decisions I made following my own will and nobody else's. You can't take that away from me."

"Amy..." Christina began, but fell silent, not knowing what to say. And she swallowed saliva loudly.

No, not just saliva. Her own blood too.

Desmond wanted to look away, full of shame. But he couldn't. He couldn't, until the bitter end.

"We can talk about this later," Amy said. "Please. You have to save your strength."

He didn't know what to say, or how to say it. He felt so useless. He was to blame for this happening. That Christina... was in this state.

And he wasn't even able to say what she needed to hear. He couldn't even find the words that would come out effortlessly, naturally, for anyone in such an extreme situation. And, therefore, so simple in that sense.

It's not like he had to do something complicated like apologize, or try to be more like the kind of person who could get along with the two of them.

It had just taken something so simple. Even he should have been able to.

But always, always the same, always, always ....

Unable to concentrate on what really matters. Our lives are in fucking danger!

"Yes. This barrier... will probably fall before they can tear it down. I can't even stand up. Soon I'll be unconscious. I'll be a liability. Listen up. I'll drop the barrier in a few seconds and help distract them. Take the opportunity to run."

"What about you?" Desmond spoke for the first time since the conversation had begun. " Don't talk as if you're already.... As if you were dead."

And he was only able to say something so simple and direct, that it didn't help at all. Holding back the urge to cry.

"I'm not too far from that." Christina burst out laughing. A discordant sound, out of place. But then it became something that fit perfectly. Her wild laughter was replaced by the sounds of her violently vomiting blood. She was left shaking from head to toe when she finished, with some blood still slipping between her lips and dripping to the floor. "What terrifies me is the thought that you might die because of me. So listen to me. It's the only way. Don't do anything stupid or we'll all die here. Please."

They stayed crammed together in that darkness, enveloped where Desmond could only hear their shaky breaths, the fierce pounding of his rampaging heart and, above all, the sound of Christina's blood still falling to the floor.

That, to him, was the loudest sound of all. It had gotten into his head and, each time a drop hit the ground and split, spreading across the grass, the sound seemed to increase in intensity.

Louder and louder. It could drive him crazy. It would surely drive him mad, it was only a matter of time.

Desmond broke the silence.

"No."

He made the obvious decision. The only one he could make without regretting it for the rest of his life.

"You are ignoring my dying wish. I hope you understand."

Of course he did. Seeing her like this, without enough strength to raise her head and give him one of those looks of hers, full of energy, challenging.

Because she was not herself. Because she had little of everything left.

I understand that perfectly well, but...

"I'm sorry, but no. Maybe I'm selfish, but I'm not going to accept this. I'm not going to lose you."

She raised her head, finally. And stared into his eyes.

Her lips painted with blood, her teeth stained. And the weakness in her eyes. How empty they were, how... how dead. Almost like Laura's eyes. It all broke his heart. And it strengthened his resolve.

He had shamelessly leaned on her time and time again, but, when she needed him most, was he supposed to abandon her? Do nothing, not look back?

No.

Fuck, no.

Even if she asked him to, that was simply unacceptable. If he did that, he'd never be able to live with his head held high again.

"We're a team, Christina. If we have to fall, we'll fall. But if we live, we'll live together. Do you understand?"

"You heard him. I'll take you."

Maybe it was a little mean... or rather pathetic, straight up, but Desmond was happy that this time he had taken the lead and Amy had followed without contributing much. It made him feel great.

It made him feel like he could become the friend the two of them needed.

His qualifications as a partner, as a war machine, were unquestionable. But he wasn't interested in that. He wanted much more than that.

And the feelings aroused by this small success reminded him what kind of person he was.

Because being the person he wanted to be, that he had to be, was so far away that it seemed impossible.

A normal, good person would not have felt that way. Not at all.

"You're in better shape than both of us. I should be the one to take care of it."

"But it doesn't bother me to have my hands full to fight. That's why it should be me."

"Yeah. You're right."

Amy took Christina in her arms, lifting her up. Not without some effort.

"Hey, guys, wait a minute." Christina ran a hand over Amy's chest. Looking for support after getting dizzy.

They were going to lose her soon... her consciousness, not her life. But she was holding on to it, keeping the barrier in turn, to make them "come to their senses".

In other words, she was worrying about them when she should be worrying about herself. How did she expect them to do what she was asking them to do, worry only about them, when she herself was incapable?

"Seriously. Think about this rationally. We're running out of time and this can't... it can't end well."

"We'll see about that." That might not have been the best answer, but it was his answer. "What he believed. What he felt."

"When I met you, you said we were similar. You insisted on it a lot. But really, the only thing we're alike is that we can kill without blinking an eye. You know that's true. You knew it all along, deep down... But you were desperate to connect with someone."

Her words were harsh, but true, he supposed. Still, it wasn't the time to talk about something like that, and what did it have to do with anything? Why the sudden change of subject?

Maybe it was clear to Amy, who was the most normal of them all. But not to him.

He supposed that was confirmation of what Christina had said.

That they weren't really that much alike, and that he didn't understand her. He just wanted to, or...

He took a deep breath.

"As for you, Amy, I don't know your circumstances, but I have a feeling that I've.... That I've seen enough.... you. You, too, feel the same despair. And me, of course, and me too. That's what connects us. Something like that... Don't you realize it's not worth dying for?

Did she believe those words or was she just saying the first thing that came to her mind to push them away, to get what she wanted? Either way, he believed them. Desmond didn't think she was wrong.

But true and right were not the same thing. As much as it was exceptionally easy for humans to confuse such concepts.

She was right. Thinking rationally, three strangers could not be so close as to risk their lives for each other without something amiss. It was not normal. They wanted to risk their lives for something that didn't exist yet.

Something they wanted to create with their own hands, driven by that "something" that had drawn them to each other, that had made them stay together.

But was dying for something that didn't exist of less value than dying for something that did exist?

Who had decided that?

Even if there was nothing real between the three of them, that illusion was something of incalculable value. That was why Christina herself was on her knees, vomiting blood, separated from the enemy soldiers only by a thin barrier of her magic that was weakening and was going to be extinguished as she was.

Fake or not, it was not something they could dismiss and forget as if nothing had happened.

He couldn't do what she was asking them to do and then calmly said to himself: well, I never really cared for her.

"It's still not worth it," Amy said. “But maybe someday.”

"Yet another reason to get out of this alive. Something good could come out of all this, maybe the best thing that ever happened to us." Despair was what had brought them together.

And also that hope, which was the most important thing of all. Hope.

His thoughts were clear in his mind, but as for expressing them in words, that was the worst part. Even if he expressed himself well it's not like he could convince Christina that she was wrong. None of them would budge. They were too stubborn.

Convince her?

There was no need for that. Christina couldn't stand, she could barely stay as she was, on all fours. They didn't need to convince her, just run out of here, ignoring her wishes.

They couldn't just break through the barrier, but surely he would be able to make a path for himself with his sword, after summoning it again.

Or just wait for Christina to lose consciousness and the barrier to fall naturally.

Talking to her, they were just wasting valuable time. It was time to change strategy.

Their savior was still fighting for them. And she was absolutely sublime. Not as fast as he was, it seemed, but she made up for it with her regeneration, pain resistance and technique.

He moved his head in time to see her leap, putting her legs around someone's neck and executing a spin that snapped the soldier's neck like a dry twig. She landed on all fours, gracefully, on the ground.

She cut the tendon of the nearest soldier, bringing him to his knees, bringing him within her reach.

At the perfect height to plunge the knife into his jaw. It went through all the obstacles along the way with ease. He saw the blade flash between her teeth, inside her mouth.

His savior pulled the knife out, left it swinging there, threw the knife as he dodged the bullets that were fired at him.

Not all of them, but most of them.

And the knife landed where it was supposed to. In the skull of a soldier, splitting, moreover, the helmet that protected him.

A second later, the bloodsoaked knife was back in its wielder's left hand.

Like him and his sword, she could retrieve the knife again and again, wherever it was, even if it was broken. Anyone would say she was at a disadvantage against dozens of opponents with firearms, and her having only a knife as a weapon.

But it didn't seem that way at all. Her immortality gave her a huge advantage. It balanced the scales.

Plus, she moved with feline speed and grace, and as if she had no trouble seeing in the dark.

If it weren't for the fact that Christina and her barrier wouldn't hold out that long, they could solve this problem by just sitting around and waiting. Now he was sure of that. Now there wasn't even the slightest hint of doubt in his heart.

It helped him feel that way, probably, that he couldn't hear anything that was going on outside.

Not the gunshots. Nor the agonizing screams. Nor the pleading.

Nor the ones dying silently, drowning in their own blood. He couldn't even hear the sounds of pain his savior was probably emitting.

That contributed, made this seem... choreographed, so to speak.

A fake fight, with fake tension, because the outcome had been determined before it even began.

In the stories, the protagonist fighting alone could not lose against an army. Of course, what was so exciting about the final outcome being what you could see coming? Though that tendency itself made the "impossible" victories predictable.

Desmond shook his head.

Ah, he really had lost too much blood, thinking in those terms in the midst of such a serious situation.

This was no farce. The lives of all four of them were at stake.

And he had already wasted too much time.

"Drop the barrier, Christina," said Desmond.

"Are you finally going to listen to me?" She asked, taking a deep breath between each word. Her hopeful little smile was another dagger in the heart.

"Yes." But the look Amy gave him at that answer, a mixture of bewilderment and pain, was probably what hurt him the most.

"Put me down," Christina said.

"I don't agree. Whatever you say, I'm not leaving here without you."

If only he could communicate his true intentions without Christina noticing. Why did even the simplest things have to be so absurdly complicated? He had only wanted to deceive her. And he had thought that it would be simple, that Amy would understand him, or that maybe she would at the very least give in, rather than get in his way.

Ah, well, he couldn't blame her for that.

They didn't know each other too well. He couldn't expect her to read his mind as if they'd been together long enough. With little more than a week working together, he couldn't blame her if she thought her feelings were so flimsy. Even if it hurt.

Desmond took a deep breath.

"Subtlety isn't my thing, so I'll be more direct. I want you to lower that barrier so I can run out of here with you no matter how much you protest."

"So…" Christina covered her hand with her mouth, coughed several times, loudly. "You refuse to listen to reason. I thought that you, at least, really...."

"It's true that you don't know me. I’m not a rational person. I am a selfish person and driven by my feelings, even by momentary whims. And this is no whim."

Her eyes told him to stop fucking around. That she was too tired for these things.

He understood how she felt. He should have summoned back his sword and split the barrier in two. He hadn't done it for fear that Christina, stubborn as a mule, would try to repair the cut in the barrier or push him, disarm him.

Efforts like that could literally kill her. She was too badly hurt.

This was also a factor, albeit a small one. That he honestly wasn't sure of the limits and rules of his peculiar ability. Of whether his sword could come to him, cutting through even Christina's darkness.

It seemed to him that it would most likely not work properly. But he would lose nothing by trying. So something that would spoil everything, leaving him with no chance, was only a small factor.

It wouldn't be a catastrophe until he saw with his own eyes that it didn't work.

The other reasons were the important ones, and that's why he was here talking, wasting his time. Of everyone.

"It's you who refuses to listen to reason. Sooner or later, you'll fall unconscious and the barrier will disappear, whether you want it to or not. Why not do it now? Why drag things out unnecessarily?"

"Ah, fuck. Okay..." She bit her lower lip. Her eyes were shining with tears. "Fuck, okay. If I have to carry your deaths on my conscience... I can only hope it won't be for long."

"You are forbidden to die. None of us can die today," Amy declared, looking forward, clutching Christina tighter as if to say she would never let go.

"Get...ready..."

A few seconds later, the barrier fell. He knew immediately, even though the darkness around them was glass, because, along with the freedom of movement, sounds returned to his world.

Terrible sounds, the sounds of war. But he was intimately familiar with it all.

So they weren't so terrible, deep down.

Amy, with Christina in her arms, and he took off running into the woods, in the opposite direction of the fight. Amy did her best to cover them. Desmond called the sword into his hands and took care of those who got in his way.

Cut them in half, in pieces.

Every step was torture and, for some reason, every time he swung the sword the pain intensified by far, became practically unbearable.

But, even though Amy was doing a fantastic job with twice as much to handle as he was, Desmond wasn't able to divide his attention equally well. He saw a bullet fly at Christina.

Or just in her direction, one bullet out of dozens in the midst of this chaos coming at her by accident.

Either way, he saw it and his soul fell to his feet.

For she knew she wasn't going to make it in time.

To lose Christina, even if it was after getting her to safety and doing everything he could... it would be a devastating thing that would scar him for life. However, to lose her like that? Because he hadn't been attentive enough, fast enough, good enough?

That would drive him mad. That would... make him use his sword against himself, at the first opportunity.

So Desmond ran as he had never run before, pumping magical energy into his body without the slightest care for something that might as well be of the finest porcelain in the face of the storm of power that was his magical energy.

And, when he heard a leg break because he inevitably made a mistake, he jumped.

Putting himself between the bullet and Christina.

Putting his sword between them.

And slashed the bullet in midair, splitting it in two. Something he had done countless times during the attack on the academy, and as he made his way through the facility, in search of Laura, it now seemed like quite an accomplishment.

Because in his current state it had been. Everything was relative.

His current state...

Desmond had a broken leg and the other one hurt like it was on fire, due to the gunshot wound. He was a mess. But he could still endure this. He could still go on.

He didn't have to hold on for long.

A few minutes and they would be safe, because their savior would stop the Empire soldiers from coming after them.

No. Amy and he would be fine, but Christina would bleed to death if they left her like this. They couldn't take their time. They had to get her, as quickly as possible, to the nearest town and get her help.

Desdmon didn't want to think about how unlikely that was. Not escaping this forest, if not getting her help in time.

He didn't want to think about anything.

He heard a gunshot. That in itself was nothing strange, of course, the shooting hadn't stopped for a moment, except for them, when they had been enclosed in the barrier of darkness.

The surprising thing, what tore him from his thoughts, was the sound that followed that shot.

A nauseating crackling sound.

He knew that sound. It was unmistakable.

He knew what he would see before he turned around. But he had to do it. He had to see it with his own eyes. And so he did, and it was, as he had thought, something he would never forget in his life.

The soldiers had caught her. They had... shot her in the head, blowing her brains out.

Not only that. Half of her head was gone, more or less. She was unrecognizable. Lying on the ground, alone, surrounded by enemies. She would recover from that too, of course. But not as quickly as from everything else.

Otherwise she'd already be on her feet, fighting, with most of her face where it should be, all in place.

Not lying there on the ground, alone, surrounded by enemies.

Alone.

He noticed that his teammates had stopped. But not for the same reason he had, but because the soldiers had done it first. Stopped going after them. They were tense, still prepared, but they had wisely decided that this wasn't worth it.

That they could let them go without losing anything. If Laura had given the order, he wouldn't have heard it. That wasn't saying much, for he hadn't been able to afford to pay attention to anything other than surviving and protecting his own.

In any case, for one reason or another, it seemed they were all in agreement.

The fight was gone. They could just walk away.

This was... the outcome he had hoped for, the closest thing to a happy ending he could get out of such a fucked up situation. No?

Desmond’s ears were ringing as if there was a hornet's nest next to each of them, close, very close. And his head felt very light, like he was on the verge of fainting.

All that got worse when he saw how the soldiers took the corpse of his savior, tied her hands and feet and put her in the back of one of the trucks. That was all he could hear. The ringing in his ears.

Desmond took a deep breath... and the ringing, as if by magic, disappeared.

For he had gathered his resolve and made a decision, the one decision he would not regret, no matter what the outcome.

Christina had been right, after all. Yes, to the last word.

What was between them was false. What he lost sight of as they closed the truck doors, preparing to leave... and the feelings at the core of his heart, that was the real thing.

"I have to go," Desmond said, unable to look them in the face. He was deeply ashamed of himself, especially after everything he had said just a few minutes ago. But he had no regrets. There was a huge and fundamental difference between those two things. "I'm sorry."

"Desmond. Wait, that's crazy."

But he turned a deaf ear to Amy and turned his back on both of them.

Running towards the ghost of his past. Towards the door of his future.