The Broken Halo

’I lost.’

The thought refused to feel real.

The Grey Pike captain remained on both knees, staring at the silver spear lying beside her. Her fingers twitched, but they could no longer close around its shaft. The armour over her chest had collapsed inward, every breath scraped against her ribs, and a steady ringing filled her ears.

A few steps away stood the demon who had defeated her.

Blood ran from Akaza’s shoulder, thigh, and side. Cuts crossed his uncovered face, and strands of hair clung to his forehead. His breathing was heavy, yet his back remained straight and the pride in his eyes had not weakened.

He was injured, and one could call his injuries bad injuries. However, he was standing.

She was not.

’How?’

She was C-rank. He was only a Supreme Archfiend.

Earth itself suppressed his demonic power. His gravity had flickered, weakened, and consumed far more energy than it should have. Her Martial Spirit had fought beside her with a hatred so fierce that their attacks had become more dangerous than ever.

Yet everything had still ended this way.

Her gaze drifted past Akaza.

At first, she saw only shattered stone, broken ice, twisted metal, and the scars left by the battle.

Then she saw the bodies.

The shield around Viktor had folded over his corpse. Stone covered most of his lower body, while his head hung loosely against his chest.

Anya lay near the ruined edge of the road. The frost around her had already begun to melt, carrying thin streams of blood down the slope.

Luka’s head had stopped several metres away from the rest of him.

Davor was farther below, his broken gauntlets still attached to arms bent in directions arms should never bend.

A sharpened root protruded from Radek’s chest.

Emil lay beside the remains of his rifle, blood and water spreading beneath the back of his skull.

Six bodies.

Six companions who had stood behind her only moments ago.

Her breath caught.

"No..."

The word left her as a whisper.

Her hands began to tremble.

"V-Viktor?"

He did not answer.

"Anya..."

Her voice cracked. Tears blurred her sight as her gaze moved desperately from one body to another.

"Radek... Emil... D-Davor... Luka..."

Nothing.

Grey Pike was gone.

The squad she had trained with, argued with, eaten with, and led through more rift battles than she cared to count had been destroyed while she fought a single demon.

A sob forced its way from her throat.

At the edge of her vision, she saw someone standing beside the four Runemasters.

The one-horned demon.

Simon had not moved from where he had chosen to protect them. His arms were folded, and his expression was utterly indifferent, as though the deaths scattered across the road had merely confirmed something he already knew.

His earlier words returned to her.

If you value your life and those of your companions, leave.

I will make sure my assault core does not chase you.

He had warned her.

No.

He had looked down on her. He had insulted Grey Pike, dismissed their strength, and spoken as though their deaths were already decided.

She had refused to retreat because retreat had meant abandoning Ironcrest.

Because she was their captain.

Because she had believed they could win.

’Was I wrong?’

Fear answered first, then grief, then rage swallowed both.

"You..."

She glared at Simon through her tears.

"You arrogant, filthy demon! I’ll—"

A hand blurred across her vision.

BAM!

Akaza’s palm struck her face.

Her head snapped aside, and she fell onto one hand. Blood filled her mouth. The left side of her face swelled almost immediately, while two teeth struck the stone beside her.

For several seconds, she could only hear the ringing in her skull.

Akaza stood over her.

"I defeated you."

His voice was calm, but the calmness somehow made it worse.

"I am standing close enough to take your life, yet you looked past me and spoke to him."

The captain tried to raise herself.

Akaza placed one foot on the shaft of her fallen spear.

"Are you looking down on me?"

His dark eyes narrowed.

"Or do you not respect the warrior who defeated you?"

"You... all of you..." Her thoughts refused to arrange themselves. "My squad... that demon... I won’t... Ironcrest will..."

The words collapsed into one another.

Akaza watched her struggle to speak, and the last trace of satisfaction from their battle disappeared from his expression.

The captain suddenly looked uphill.

Ironcrest Watchtower remained beyond the fractured walls and drifting smoke. Humans still occupied its defensive levels. Artifact cannons thundered above, and distant soldiers moved between the trenches.

Someone had to see them.

Someone could still reach her.

She forced Aether into her lungs.

"IRONCREST!" she screamed. "GREY PIKE REQUIRES—"

Her voice stopped.

The smoke shifted.

For the first time, she noticed the faint lines surrounding the road.

Hundreds of wind blades floated around the battlefield.

They were tiny.

Some were no longer than a fingernail, while others resembled thin, transparent threads curved through the air. They moved in overlapping streams from the ground to several metres above it, forming a wall so fine that the naked eye could easily miss it.

Dust touched one.

It vanished.

A falling leaf drifted into another and separated into pieces too small to follow.

More corpses lay beyond that wall.

Human soldiers.

Some had been cut across the throat. Others had holes carved through their armour, while two bodies had been divided into several clean sections. They must have tried to enter during the battle.

However, none had made it through.

The captain’s blood turned cold.

That was why no one had interfered.

Why no stray bullet had crossed their battles.

Why Grey Pike had seemed separated from an army fighting only a short distance away.

Simon had enclosed them from the beginning.

She slowly turned toward him.

He remained beside the Runemasters with his arms folded. Wind barely disturbed his white hair. There was no strain on his face and no urgency in his posture.

He had protected four noncombatants, prevented outside interference, killed every human who approached, and watched three separate battles at once.

All without appearing to do anything.

Akaza scoffed.

"Pathetic."

Her attention returned to him.

"You fought well until you lost," he said. "Then one defeat shattered your Will."

His gaze moved briefly toward the place where her Martial Spirit had dispersed.

"And that pitiful remnant called itself a Martial Spirit while depending on someone whose courage disappears the moment the battle ends."

"Don’t..." Rage shook her voice. "Don’t speak about my—"

Akaza’s hand closed around her jaw.

He turned her face toward Simon, and Simon looked back at her without interest.

Akaza’s other hand settled against the back of her neck.

The captain felt his fingers tighten, and her final thoughts were not of Ironcrest.

Not of her orders.

Not even of the six companions whose bodies surrounded her.

She stared at Simon and remembered that he had never joined the battle because he had never needed to.

’Just how strong... is he?’

Akaza twisted.

Crack!