"Okey. Listen up! From now on, those of you who aren't injured, grab a weapon and go to the front. The rest of you stay back and try to find useful things while we at the front secure each room." Francis said once the cargo elevator doors opened. What lay before them was a large corridor with a bunch of doors on both sides.
So, everyone headed to a corner of the elevator, where they left all the weapons they could recover. Neil and Melonie stayed behind, as one was injured and the other was one of the few who knew even a little about medicine.
On the other hand, both Duman and the three youngsters had to go get their weapons, although that was also a problem. The large crowd in the middle prevented them from grabbing a weapon, all of them almost eager to get one.
When everyone was finished, only one rifle remained. Duman was initially relieved, as he wouldn't have to go to the front and potentially get caught in the crossfire. However, all that relief disappeared when he remembered that the only people without a gun were him and the three youngsters, and they seemed eager to grab the weapon, looking at Duman sideways with a look of determination.
So, Duman agreed that, for the sake of the youngsters, he had to be the one to take the gun. But before Duman could grab it, someone bumped his shoulder as he walked by.
"Move it." said a burly man with a scar on his face that ran from his right cheek to his neck. The man took another step forward and grabbed the gun before turning around.
"Ah, um. Sorry." Duman muttered, hoping the man would simply go back the way he came, but instead, he stopped briefly beside him.
"...If you're really sorry, tell us another story when we're out of this hellhole." The man whispered, causing Duman to turn around in shock.
"What...?" Duman said, though it ended in a whisper. Turning around, even though the man was already leaving, he could see the left side of his face, where he saw some scars on his neck that Duman recognized very well. They were cigarette scars.
"...Um, what was that?" Olivia asked in confusion, while the other two young ones looked annoyed at not getting the chance to prove themselves to their elders.
"I'm... not really sure... Anyway, we should go back to Neil and Melonie." Duman said.
***
After everyone was ready, the front group began to move, going from room to room, finding strange machinery in each one, from which the rest of the group couldn't recover anything of value for their current situation.
The bunker continued to shake occasionally, though slightly enough to not cause any discomfort when moving. It seemed as if those monsters were simply letting them know that their lives depended on them, making them feel powerless.
Duman assumed that, in some way, this helplessness was what motivated the entire squad to enter the bunker, hoping not to leave their lives in their hands.
"Oh! Duman, look! We found a warehouse!" Melonie shouted excitedly, nudging him.
"What? Oh, yeah, right." Duman replied, lost in thought.
"Hmm... Hey, Duman, help me search here, maybe we can find some antibiotics for her." Neil ordered, moving forward to one of the many crates.
"Um, yeah, sure." Duman replied, feeling slightly uncomfortable being alone with him. As much as Neil tried to hide it, Duman could still catch him frowning, as if he was angry or didn't trust him.
"Oh! Let me help you." Melonie tried, rushing forward only to be stopped by Neil.
"No. You're still hurt, and those brats still need an adult with them. I don't trust them to stay alive without one by their side." Neil said, his tone somewhere between tired and bitter as he named the 'brats'.
"...Ugh, fine. But hurry up, please. I don't like knowing I might die from a stupid infection. If I'm going to die, I'd rather die in an epic battle." Melonie said, giving in to Neil's logic.
As Melonie left the room, both Neil and Duman got to work. They went to a place where there weren't any people already searching for supplies and began opening crate after crate. They found everything from clothing to technology that neither of them knew about, but which they were sure could cost a large amount of Great Echoes.
As they both continued searching, Duman couldn't help but feel uncomfortable doing so in complete silence, plus every now and then Neil would keep giving him that look.
"Um. Excuse me, did I do something wrong?" He asked uncertainly, causing Neil to remain still for a few moments.
"Hmm. Was it that obvious?" he replied, a little embarrassed.
"Well, yes. A little."
Neil sighed.
"It's not you, it's just that... Ugh..." Neil trailed off, deciding to show him the problem rather than tell him.
Neil unbuttoned his jacket, revealing his neck, which had red scales on the sides, peeking out from his chest.
Neil didn't need to say anything more. They both knew the history between the Regen and the Drakard, as a whole race. But at the same time, Duman couldn't help but feel frustrated. He had nothing against the Drakard, just as most of the newer generations of his family don't have a problem with them either. But the past was hard to let go of.
"I'm... sorry." It was all he could manage, no matter how frustrating it was. What else was he supposed to say? He probably wouldn't believe his apology. Adding anything else was pointless.
"...I believe you. Also, I'm sorry about the looks. All the Drakards who told me about the Regen painted them as cold beings, who didn't know what compassion or love was." Neil replied, rubbing the back of his neck without looking at Duman.
'Well, maybe they're not so wrong,' Duman thought mockingly, along with a slight tinge of contempt. Though he felt bad for thinking that way afterward when he remembered his Uncle Elence.
Thus, the two remained in a brief, awkward silence. Fortunately, someone intervened.
"Hey! Doctor!? I think I found what you were looking for!" a male voice shouted.
Both Neil and Duman quickly approached the source of the voice. Upon arriving, they found a man sitting on the floor with his back against a wall. In front of him was a small box containing the antibiotics they needed, although Neil was a little suspicious. Wich the man noticed.
"Don't give me that look, keep it. I'm sure it'll be more useful to you than to me." he said resignedly, lifting his shirt and revealing a horrible wound on his abdomen that had been poorly sutured. The areas closest to the wound were painted purple, while the wound was oozing a yellow, slightly viscous, and foul-smelling liquid.
Duman looked desperately at Neil, hoping something could be done, but he simply shook his head. The man was already doomed, and he seemed to know it himself.
"Take it and go, will you? I'm tired of this. I just want this pain to end." he said, grabbing a syringe filled with clear liquid that was lying next to him.
"...Isn't there anything we can do to help?" Duman muttered desperately. He wasn't an idiot; he'd stopped dreaming of being a hero the moment he'd killed for the first time. He couldn't be a hero anymore, but he still didn't want anyone to suffer if necessary. Luckily, though that might be subjective, the man thought of something.
"... You. You're the one who told those stories in the elevator, right?... Come closer, please."
Duman, giving Neil a few dubious glances, slowly approached the man on the ground.
"...Please tell me one last story," he said, handing him the syringe.
Duman froze. He knew what the man was asking of him, but he didn't know if he would be able to do it. Why did it have to be him? How was this fair? How—
"Please, this hurts a lot." the man said, his hand on the wound. "At least, let me go in peace. I've heard this causes a very deep sleep. Let me hear one last story before I go to sleep." He finished, giving him a kind smile, usually seen on children.
This was unfair. This was so unfair. He just wanted to distract some young people from the desperate situation they were in, and now, because of this, he found himself in this situation.
He felt a hand grab his shoulder, and when he turned he could see Neil, looking at him with concern for the first time.
"...I'm fine. Go give that to Melonie. I'll... stay a little longer." Duman said, giving Neil a teary-eyed smile, who knew he wasn't okay. But there was nothing he could do either, so, biting his lip, he turned and left the room, leaving them along with a few other people who, unlike him, approached Duman, waiting to hear his next story.
*
As he left the room, Neil could see the front in charge of clearing rooms and the rest behind them, but he couldn't see who he was looking for. So, knowing they were inside one of the many rooms already cleared, he got to work.
He went door to door, sometimes finding an empty room, other times seeing a person or two taking a quick nap, and occasionally seeing a couple of people releasing stress on each other, at which point he would quickly excuse himself and leave.
Finally, in a room resembling a dining hall, he found Melonie and the brats. Melonie seemed to be sharing a loaf of bread with Olivia, while Louis and Anastir were engaged in a war, guarding their food, which appeared to be some kind of protein bar, while simultaneously trying to steal some from each other.
"Hey, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be investigating other rooms?"
"Neil! Well, Francis said we could stay here while they continue, although we need to fill these bags with food." Olivia replied, eating a piece of bread as she showed him a small bag filled with food similar to the one the other two brats had. At that moment, Louis made a quick move towards Anastir's bag, causing him to instinctively protect it, leaving the protein bars unprotected on the table.
"Aha!" Louis exclaimed, holding a protein bar.
"Hmm... well," Neil said, putting that aside to approach Melonie. "Hey, we got the antibiotics. Take one now and another every eight hours, and you should be fine." He explained, handing her the box of antibiotics, which contained two ten-pill tablets.
"Oh, thanks... By the way, where's Duman?" Melonie whispered so Olivia wouldn't hear her, as she was occupied watching Anastir steal a protein bar from Louis, tying the score again.
"He's... busy at the warehouse. Don't worry." Neil replied with a grimace.
"What? What do you..." Unfortunately, before Melonie could finish her question, a person entered the dining room.
"We're done investigating! Everyone, gather at the end of the hallway!" said one of the front members, leaving shortly after.
"Oh, is it time to move on?" Anastir asked disappointedly. Louis shared this sentiment, as they agreed to end their war in a draw. For now.
Melonie remained silent for a few moments, still surprised that Neil was hiding something from her regarding a Regen. Sure, she might not have known Neil for long, but he trusted her enough to admit he was a Drakard, and she knew the history of Drakards and Regens. But then why did Neil choose to remain silent?
"...Well, you heard him. Let's go," Neil said, seeing that Melonie wasn't going to say anything. The truth was, he didn't understand why she stayed quiet. What happened at the warehouse was Duman's business; it wasn't his place to tell.
***
Once they reached the end of the hallway, Melonie could see another elevator similar to the one they used to get there, which confused her. How deep would they go? Is this really their salvation?
Though he could admit it was the best chance they had, as leaving from the way they came or waiting for the battle above to end was too risky. She didn't want to admit it, but there was a significant chance Garam would kill Maistir, and if the reason the two of them were deployed here was because of what was in the bunker, they were truly and completely dead. Their only option was to pray there was another way out.
At that moment, a man approached them. It was Duman. His eyes were slightly irritated, and people passing by patted him on the back.
Before anyone could move or ask any questions, Neil took a protein bar from Louis and handed it to Duman.
"Hey, here. There was a dining room in one of these rooms, and we found several of them." he said, with a kindness Melonie didn't expect Neil to direct at a Regen.
"...Thank you." Duman replied, giving him a beautiful smile as he tore the wrapper to eat it.
"...Sir..." Melonie heard a whisper to her left. Turning, she could see the three youngsters staring at Duman with such concern that she couldn't even guess who had whispered. Louis wasn't even mad at Neil for taking one of his protein bars.
Melonie, on the other hand, couldn't help but see Duman in a new light. She'd known he wasn't strictly part of the Regen family since that incident, but she still expected to see some arrogance from him, or even anger toward his family. But instead, he'd gained Neil's friendship, with all that entails, and he still happily told stories about his family, real or not.
"Okey. Listen up! Next, we'll take this elevator. Based on what we've seen, just like the previous one, this one can only go down to one floor. Considering that this one might also take a while to reach, as we go down, we'll distribute whatever we've found here. Now, move it!" Francis finished, entering the elevator.
"...Well, what are we waiting for?" Duman said, giving them a weak smile before following Francis.
***
Meanwhile, on the surface, the battle was about to end.
Both Garam's claymore and Maistir's golden spear broke, ending up discarded in the mud.
The battle now consisted of Garam, using his light constructs along with his great speed, while Maistir used complex magic along with her natural hand-to-hand combat prowess.
The field, once filled with mud, was extremely dry and full of deformations, a result of the devastating attacks of both.
Maistir had cuts and burns all over her body, along with runes inscribed in her body with her own blood. Garam, meanwhile, was in noticeably worse condition. Because of the loss of his claymore, he could no longer destroy Maistir's magical traps without repercussions, clearly noticeable by the large number of wounds he sustained. His abdomen was badly burned, while his right arm appeared to have been struck by lightning.
Thanks to that, Garam had to stay extremely close to Maistir, so that she wouldn't create a new trap since she herself would be affected.
"Stop it, Garam! You're finished!" she shouted, knowing it was a lie. While it was true that he was in serious condition now, Maistir knew he could still survive. The main reason for this was the fact that Garam was the wielder of an Authority. She also knew that if she strayed even slightly, she would die.
Garam didn't answer, instead he quickly approached her, at the same time creating three spears of light that attacked Maistir at the same time from different directions.
Meanwhile, Maistir made hand symbols pointing at two of the three spears, unleashing two blades of wind that split the spears and the ground into two clearly distinct halves. But she didn't have three hands, so to avoid the third spear, she decided to kick it.
"Ugh!" She groaned, as the heat of that spear was so great it melted her boot. But she didn't have time to complain, as Garam was approaching.
He tried to land a blow on her right shoulder, which, considering the speed he was traveling at, would likely have shattered her shoulder. So she deflected his blow with her left arm, causing the friction to give them a third-degree burn, along with the 'boom' caused by the speed of the blow.
Taking advantage of this moment of closeness, Maistir, knowing she was in no position to deliver a proper blow, placed her palm on Garam's chest.
"Kenaz!" She shouted the name of the rune, causing it to react strongly, burning Garam's body, as well as burning Maistir's right hand.
Garam quickly retreated, giving Maistir space to create new traps in the air, trying to lock him up him.
It hurt to use both hands to make these traps, not only after the last exchange, but also because of the damage accumulated throughout the battle. But she had to continue. After all, the stakes were too high for a few burns to stop her.
But Garam wasn't going to stand idly by while that happened, he too knew what was at stake, and it was time to go all in.
Garam began to run around her, dodging all the traps Maistir set. He went so fast that he left an orange trail becouse of his burning clothes, getting closer and closer to Maistir while occasionally throwing out a spear of light, moments in which Maistir had to use one of her two hands to stop them and leaving a small space for Garam to approach faster.
In his speed, Garam experienced something inexplicable, something he'd never experienced before. He was smiling in the midst of battle. He didn't understand the reason behind that smile. Since the incident at the academy, and even before, the only reason he could smile was when he was helping people.
It really is a strange thing. He didn't think he was the type to get excited about a good battle, nor was it as if he'd been smiling throughout the entire fight. But, spinning around at the speed he was going, the wind whipping against his body at immense speed, he couldn't help but feel... Free.
He knew he was just a war dog for the revolution's superiors. At first, he didn't think it bothered him—it still didn't—but here, with an old comrade, going as fast as his legs could carry him, without a care in the world, he couldn't help but feel regretful. What would have happened if he had stayed in the militia? What would have happened if the academy hadn't fallen? Well, there was no point in thinking about that now. After all, there were very important things at stake. More important than his life or Maistir's.
Finally, after a few more laps, Garam closed in on Maistir in a small burst of extra speed, taking little damage from the extreme speed, but it was time to end this.
Standing less than five meters from Maistir, Garam created a spear behind her, aiming for her abdomen from behind with the intention of keeping her at least one hand occupied.
But Garam didn't count on Maistir also thinking the same thing. It was time to end this. So, with her right arm, she pulled on Garam's left arm, unbalancing and momentarily stopping his right arm, which was approaching with the intention of creating a hole in her skull. But, as a result, she let Garam's spear pierce her abdomen.
It hurt and burned, but now was not the time for this, now was the time to end this fight.
Quickly, Maistir moved her left hand with the intention of resting it on Garam's chest, making him think that she was trying to burn him again and knowing that he could resist it, but that Maistir could not resist one of his spears in her body.
But in that brief moment, Garam caught a glimpse of Maistir's palm, as well as the rune, resembling an H, etched in blood. It was...
"Hagalaz!" Maistir shouted as she swung her hand forward, hoping to meet Garam's chest. But Garam was no idiot; he knew what that rune meant and its effects when triggered, so, taking advantage of his speed, he put his right elbow in the way.
The rune gave off an ethereal silver glow, and then came the pain.
In Maistir's hand, specifically where the rune had been, there was now a sizable, clean hole that was bleeding profusely. Garam wasn't much better, as his right arm was practically severed from his body thanks to a hole of the same size in his elbow.
They both stood still, equally shocked by what had just happened. One had just suffered the worst wound he'd ever suffered, while the other had just played her last card.
Maistir, once she had gotten over her shock and still holding Garam's left arm, could only look at his face and give one last, but beautiful, smile.
"I... really regret that it ended like this."
At that moment, five spears of light pierced her back, causing her to fall backward, releasing Garam's arm.
Garam stood still for a few seconds, processing everything that had happened, from the moment he left the militia to the moment he killed an old and dear friend. And he couldn't help but come to a conclusion.
"I... think I do too."