“…progress has been stalled. Initial analysis reveals that…”

“Over fifteen hundred dead, with thousands more injured…”

“...locked down. Our semi-divinities are still engaged in the battle and tying them down, but their number is endless.”

Chatter of all kinds flowed into Aziz’s ear, and the events that had transpired so far slammed into his consciousness like a Locomotive. He and a bunch of Knights had joined up together to protect a bunch of ships, whose defences had been taken out by a Lord-ranked spectre’s suicidal attack. The barrage that followed had taken everything out of him, but they had brought enough time for the ships’ defences to come back up.

What happened afterwards?

Holding his head, Aziz sat up slowly. A thick layer of metal covered his backbone, and the weight made him grimace as he pushed himself up. His trousers had been replaced with flimsy ones, but his top had been left untouched for some reason.

A makeshift hospital had been set up to house him and the other overdrawn Knights, but as he took in the sights around him, the colonel couldn’t help but think that someone’s head was missing a screw. The bunch of beds around him were situated in the same room as the tactical stations manned by chattering officers, which could only mean that this makeshift hospital had been established on a command ship.

Command ships were ships that had been specifically built to house a battlegroup’s command, unlike the other ships, which had been forcibly requisitioned or built to house as many troops as possible. This place was meant for the local area commanders to direct their battlegroup, not to stuff injured Knights in.

“Someone’s up!”

At that cry, the ongoing chatter vanished, as if someone had cut off the voices from the outside.

Before Aziz could even make sense of that utterance or the odd phenomenon, two hands had fallen on his shoulders, and what seemed like medics appeared in his vision. Two white-robed fellows, dressed up to the point that the colonel couldn’t tell even their gender, began to run a bunch of artefacts around his body, before nodding.

“No signs of major injuries,” the first medic noted.

“Colonel, can you understand my words? If you can, nod,” said the second.

Aziz nodded, before letting out a puff of air. “I can.”

The colonel winced as a searing flash burned his throat, and some harsh coughs forced themselves out of his mouth. Before he could ask for water, however, the first medic had offered a cup to him, and a sweet liquid ran down his throat as he took a sip from it.

It wasn’t water, but he’d tasted it before.

“Something wrong?” the second medic asked.

Aziz raised the cup again and drank from it slowly. It was chilled jasmine tea…the same kind he had drank long ago, before the Great War. Back then, he had made a promise to Marie and Hans to bring everyone along to empty the little shop out after the war, but…

He looked around him, where the other Knights were sporting varying degrees of injuries, and then glanced at the hospital ship trailing closely behind. It was full of unmoving people, and Aziz couldn’t even tell who was alive and who was already dead.

What about the First Aerial, who had providing supporting fire to take down the Squire-rank spectres? Avalanche had been obliterated in the demon invasion; the colonel didn’t know if he could take the pain from yet another spate of deaths.

“They should be alright,” Aziz muttered. “Right?”

“Who, colonel?”

“My men,” Aziz replied with a grimace, before pulling out his Radio. After fiddling with it for a few minutes to no avail, he returned it back to his clothes. “This whole expedition has been thrown into chaos. Aerial units have been split up, and their commanding officers…never mind.”

He got up.

“Sir? Where are you going?” The first medic placed a restraining hand on him. “You look fine on the surface, but you’re badly injured on the inside. Shockwaves have left small injuries on your internal organs; if you move around recklessly, the chance of these injuries widening will increase exponentially. Sit down!”

“But my men—”

“You move around more and I’ll be done for,” said the second medic. “Colonel, Marshal Marie came to check up on you some time ago, and she explicitly ordered me make sure that you were fine. She’s coming back soon, and if you’re not in the bed…”

“Oh.”

“Yes, doctor’s orders,” the second medic continued. “And your boss’ too. So just sit here and think about your life or something.”

“Or maybe we can chat, you know.” The first medic looked around. “Everyone is in worse shape than you, but I presume it’s because you were wearing that armour.”

Aziz started. “Right, where’s my Exo-skeleton?”

“It’s over there.” The medic pointed at the head of his bed. “Fortunately, the instructions to disassemble the armour wasn’t that hard, although we couldn’t remove the main structure on your back.”

“Ah. So that’s what the odd sensation was,” Aziz noted. “I’m in trouble, it seems. The Exo-skeleton’s backbone helps to improve my strength, but if I’m this feeble even with it on…”

“It’s rendering our prognosis inaccurate, then,” said the first medic. “Can you remove it? Would there be any adverse effects if you do?”

“He’ll be unable to move.” A voice drifted in from behind him. “Which is a good thing, because this man is extraordinarily stubborn.”

“Marshal.”

Aziz turned his head with great difficulty, and then grinned at the person behind him, who was rolling her eyes. “Hey.”

“That’s ma’am to you, Aziz. It’s good that you’re up, though.” Marie smiled. “Welcome back to the land of the living. Did you like the jasmine tea?”

“That was you?”