The battlefield trembled underfoot, dust curling in the wind as tension charged the air like static before a storm.
Harrison narrowed his eyes at the enemy before him—Josue, the psychic monstrosity who stood untouched, unfazed, and unshaken despite the storm of attacks that had already been unleashed upon him.
Beside Harrison, Colonel Johnston cracked his knuckles, flames flickering to life at his fingertips.
"Let's give him something to remember," Johnston muttered, eyes gleaming with battle-ready fire.
Without hesitation, both warriors charged.
Colonel Johnston led the assault, thrusting both arms forward. From each hand, a roaring tornado of flame spiraled into the air, spinning in opposite directions before converging on Josue like twin serpents of living fire. They collided with explosive force, collapsing inward upon their target.
The flames swallowed Josue in a vortex of heat and fury.
"Now!" Colonel Johnston shouted.
Harrison charges forward using the eruption as cover. His boots slammed against the cracked earth as he accelerated, his body blurring with speed.
"No Sword Style…" he whispered under his breath, his hands moving in a wide circular motion, power gathering between his palms like a growing storm.
"Meteor Impact!" he roared, slamming both hands forward into the heart of the firestorm where Josue stood.
A shockwave erupted on impact, shattering the ground beneath Harrison and sending debris into the sky like shrapnel. The crater left in the wake of his strike spread outward like ripples on a pond.
Harrison staggered slightly, panting. He looked up through the fading smoke, wiping a trickle of blood from his chin.
"That had to do something…"
The smoke cleared—and there he was.
Josue.
Untouched.
The air shimmered around him, his body cloaked in a halo of glowing psychic energy. The fire licked at his skin but never touched it. The earth cracked beneath him but never shook his balance.
And then—he walked.
No sprint. No charge. Just forward movement. Each step like a slow, inevitable march toward domination.
Harrison's eyes widened. "You've got to be kidding me…"
Josue raised his hand. The energy around him pulsed once, like a heartbeat. A shockwave burst forth, invisible but tangible. It hit Harrison square in the chest, sending him flying backward, crashing into the dirt like a ragdoll.
He rolled, groaned, and pushed himself up, brushing dust from his bloodied uniform.
"Man... that guy is tough."
Colonel Johnston strode up beside him, fire still dancing in his palms. He took a breath, then he prepares to take his gloves off realizing this is a fight he can't afford to hold back in.
"If fire won't do it…" Johnston muttered, slipping off the gloves. "Then I'll bring hell itself."
But before he could act, the scene shifted.
Elsewhere, away from the battlefield…
Christian, Teddy, and the rest of the squad sat among the ruins of a forest clearing. The aftermath of their own skirmishes was still fresh. They had survived, but just barely.
Among them, Eve rested in silence, her breathing shallow, her hands trembling ever so slightly.
Suddenly, the world around her dimmed.
Her vision blurred.
And then—a memory surged forward like a tidal wave.
[Memory Fragment - POV Flashback]
The air reeked of smoke and burning flesh.
Screams echoed through the charred remains of an unnamed village, once peaceful, now drenched in chaos. Buildings crumbled as flames consumed them. Shadows darted between the alleyways—soldiers, hunting with merciless precision.
Panic surged.
From the first-person perspective, the viewer runs through the carnage. Heavy breaths, a pounding heart. Blood on the hands, but not theirs.
Held tightly in trembling arms—a baby, no older than a few months. Swaddled in worn cloth, soot marking her pale cheeks.
A voice, choked with desperation, whispers above the infant's head.
"It will be alright… Eve."
The world becomes silent, save for the crackling of fire and the faint, innocent cooing of the child.
Eve gasped and sat upright, her body covered in a cold sweat. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, and her eyes darted around, disoriented by the surge of emotion.
Teddy immediately rushed over. "Eve! Hey, are you okay?!"
Christian followed, concern etching lines in his brow. "Was it a dream?"
She didn't answer at first. Instead, she looked down at her trembling hands. The image—the voice—still echoed in her ears. Her mouth opened slowly.
"…That memory… It wasn't mine."
Christian knelt beside her, gently placing a hand on her shoulder. "What did you see?"
"Someone was running," she whispered. "The village was burning. And the person was holding a baby… I think that baby was me..."
She looked up, eyes filled with a fierce, newly awakened resolve.
"I need to confirm something..."
Christian watched her, unsure of what to say.
Then Eve stood—stronger now. More focused. Her body still trembled, but it wasn't from fear anymore.
"Christian," she said, turning to face him. "I need you to take me to the battle."
"What? Are you sure?" Teddy asked, startled.
Christian locked eyes with her and saw no hesitation.
He nodded. "Alright. Let's finish this."
The fire in Eve's heart burned brighter than the flames on the battlefield.
To Be Continued...