25. The Last Hurdle

The aching pain running through Nathanial’s veins kept him alive. The searing sensation was a grim reminder that the battle had yet to end. And so he needed to stand. Stand once more to fight on, even though his body was at its limit.

Was it the sound of voices that he heard, or the blood running through his veins?

Nathanial didn’t know, but he clenched his fists with his broken right hand, screaming at him to stop. To rest and call it quits, but he couldn’t. Not while his friends were still fighting. He pushed his left hand on the ground with his breath seeping out from his lips. His vision blurred, slowly steadying to gain sight.

It was utter chaos on the battlefield. Bodies littered the ground on both sides. People he had been laughing with hours before were now dead, half buried in the mud with blood washed out of their wounds by the rain.

Water dripped down the chin of his battered iron helm. Hitting the ground with a rhythmic plop that mimicked his beating heart. He shut his eyes, trying to piece together what had happened and how long he had been out. From the sounds of blades clashing and battle cries piercing through the downpour, it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes.

He scanned the surroundings, leaning against the damaged tree trunk he had slammed into. The creaking timber cried out in protest, but he ignored it.

Nathanial’s body felt cold with a trace of sadness flickering through his eyes. He flinched as he raised his arm, the wound on the side of his body throbbing in protest. If it hadn’t been for the fact that his body was reinforced by aura, then the wound would have been fatal with the iron plate hugging his ribs.

He needed to finish what he had started, even if his body refused to listen.

Nathanial walked forward, exhausted from the skirmish. The mud clung to his body like shackles, adding a heaviness that pulled him back with every step. Yet as he drew closer to the battlefield with his ragged body, something surprising caught his eye.

Flashes of green and golden aura cut through the darkness. Richard and Fredrick were still fighting. He watched as the tall, muscular man intercepted one of the Empire’s men rushing to deal the final blow to Nathanial. The blood splattered on the ground as Richard’s shield caved in his target’s skull, but not before slitting another man’s throat with the solidified aura on his blade.

The battle was shifting in their favor.

Nathanial’s senses overcame the pain screaming from his limbs. Even with his Aura Detection skill frantically scanning for any signs of danger, he didn’t need it to realize that the Empire’s forces were desperately trying to escape.

The question was: why?

Why were they running when they had the advantage?

With Nathanial down, that should have tilted the odds in their favor, but as he stared at the blood-soaked ground, he found his answer. A trail of crimson tabards lined the area where Nathanial and Lucas were fighting. From where Nathanial’s body rested, a similar path existed except where his own men had fallen.

Both sides had rushed to the aid of their leaders, and the only reason his side had won was because they had the numeric advantage, but not without a cost. The ambush had worked, and Nathanial’s near-kill had destabilized their ranks.

The scouts were isolated, and his men rushed in from all sides to send them straight to hell. Fredrick was fighting like a madman, closing the gap between their foes to kill them all before they could escape. His green aura violently surged from his body, following his sword’s path as it clashed against the crimson aura in defiance. While Richard was blocking those who sought to claim Nathanial’s life.

And in this chaos, Nathanial could hear the screaming of dying men with the rain falling heavily on his shoulders. He unfastened the straps of his iron chest plate, letting it fall onto the ground with a heavy thud. His blue tabard clung to his body as he focused on the fleeting figures from afar.

He slowly approached a fallen spear and held it firmly in his hands as his vision faded in and out. There was unfinished business. Nathanial refused to let Lucas escape so easily. He needed to die here because if he escaped, then he would only grow stronger. Turning into a foe that Nathanial wouldn’t be able to handle in the future.

If he wanted to eliminate that risk, then his counterpart needed to die here.

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In this forest filled with nothing but bloodshed and carnage.

Nathanial channeled his aura once more. The blue energy coiled around his arm and onto the spear. This was his only chance. The path before him was clear, and Lucas was protected by only one soldier in sight. One hurdle that could only choose to protect himself or his leader.

They were limping away with their tails tucked between their legs. Nathanial couldn’t let this opportunity slip, even if the throbbing agony made him want to fall to his knees. He clenched the wooden shaft in his left hand, raising it to eye level with the iron tip aimed at Lucas.

Their eyes met, and Nathanial saw the fear in his rival’s eyes. The very same fear that would send any man into disarray. However, there was no compassion in Nathanial’s heart. Not after all the lives lost.

He extended his trembling right hand before him, using it to guide his aim. His heart pounded in his chest. The adrenaline acted like a second wind. For the first time in his life, he prayed. Prayed that his aim would hold true and prayed that Lucas would die here.

His body cried out, pleading with him to stop, yet something inside Nathanial refused to let it happen. A desire to see things through to the end.

Was it a thirst for revenge?

No, it was out of respect for the men who died for him.

And that reason alone was why he took a step forward while hurling the spear through the air. The glistening trail of azure ripped across the gap between them in the blink of an eye.

Fear gripped Lucas’s expression, but before the projectile could land, another man wearing a crimson tabard stood in the way. He desperately blocked the spear with Lucas screaming out his name, and to that, the man laughed, knowing that he would die here.