22. Indelible

Anric Barbatos had lost count of how many Xenos had died at his hands; his hands had turned a pure crimson. Everything has its limits; too much killing leaves its mark.

The members of the Eighth Legion were already used to this.

They can become numb and indifferent to the act of killing itself. But if the objects of the killing are included in the discussion, the nature of the matter immediately changes.

Take Anric's current behavior, for example—he's not conducting Judgment.

He's seeking Vengeance.

You could tell his true emotions from the speed with which he swept through the darkness, or from the grotesque Xenos in his left hand. The creature was mangled and screaming, its cries echoing through the darkness.

Unmoved, Anric simply began to run, his heart filled with icy coldness. He leaped over towering earthen mounds and bizarre altars built by these subterranean Xenos. The world, in his eyes, lost its original colors, leaving only pure black and white, starkly distinct. He continued his relentless pursuit, but he never forgot his original duty.

"Sector Three needs reinforcements." A voice crackled in the communications channel; it was Richter Nair. "We've repelled one attack, but they just used some kind of sorcery to weaken us, Company Commander."

Fantastic! Just an hour ago they were firearms-wielding Xenos, and an hour later they've degenerated into primitive tribal Xenos using witchcraft?

Do they still eat meat?

They are best served carnivorous.

Anric curled his lips into a mocking smile.

He stopped, briefly gathered his strength, and leaped from the edge of the broken bridge, the wind whistling past his ears. He landed and noticed that the Xenos's screams had become much weaker; blood loss was robbing it of its remaining life.

He would gladly see it die, but it couldn't die now. Anric took a syringe from his belt and injected the Xenos. They had hearts and circulatory systems that connected their entire bodies, which meant the stimulant would still have an effect on them.

Only after completing this task did he begin to make tactical adjustments.

"I will dispatch two hunting squads from the Fifth District to provide you with support."

As Anric spoke, he quickly bypassed the glowing magic circles, altars, and some Xenos corpses nailed to them on the ground. He didn't want to, and wouldn't, enter these areas; he preferred to take a longer route.

"These things are urgent, you understand, Richter? They need to get into the spire, and we won't let them succeed."

"I understand," Richter said calmly. "But, platoon leader, more and more brothers are showing those symptoms."

"You can add me too."

". What?"

"You can add me too, Richter. I'm having the same symptoms," Anric said. "That's it. I'll be back soon. Our plan has succeeded."

He was right—six minutes later, he returned to the third district.

This is a vast underground space. The corpses of the Xenos are scattered everywhere. Many of them have been turned into booby traps, and bombs are strapped to the bottom of the bodies.

Anric could see it at a glance. He nimbly leaped over them and returned to the rear of the makeshift fortifications. Richter Nair was the first to notice his return and the first to ask him a question.

"Did you come back alone?"

"Yes," Anric said. He released his grip and threw the Xenos, which should have been dead long ago, onto the ground.

It grumbled strangely, trying to get up from the ground, but the next second Richter stepped on its back with his iron boot.

From the outside, this Xenos is no different from its kind, but it wears a long robe with gold trim. Even though it has been stained with blood, the robe still exudes a sense of nobility.

The company commander took off his helmet and gave a strange smile, "The six brothers who went with me have all died. This bastard has a lot of bodyguards."

He lowered his head, extended a finger, and meaningfully traced its sharp edge across its skin, paying particular attention to the damaged areas. Richter Nair frowned, and the force that had initially only stopped its movement suddenly intensified in the next instant.

A crisp sound rang out as he broke its spine. A piercing scream followed, and the Xenos thrashed its limbs a few times before falling unconscious.

"You're cruel," Anric laughed. "Richter —I thought you wouldn't do something like this."

"I am a member of the Eighth Legion," Richter Nair replied calmly.

"Where are the instructors?" Anric didn't answer that question, but changed the subject instead.

"Inside the spire." Richter picked it up and handed it to two other Eighth Legion soldiers who came over.

Two standard Terra had already sunk into the ground around the spire, Eighth Company, while still holding the spire, slightly expanded its perimeter. The Xenos attacks came in waves, almost recklessly trying to get closer to the spire.

Even without facial features to express emotions, these creatures were incredibly fanatical during their attack. They didn't care about their own lives at all, blindly rushing towards the soldiers of the Eighth Company.

Some of them were even strapped with explosives, frantically trying to obliterate the makeshift fortifications in their path with explosions.

Frankly, this incident baffled the soldiers of the Eighth Company —it was undoubtedly a premeditated and organized act.

Anric was the first to realize this, and based on the Eighth Legion's experience, any enemy thrown out as cannon fodder must have a cruel master behind them.

Now, the cruel owner has been found—as for whether there will be more? Anric believes the answer is yes.

Since the start of the war, their original questions have not only remained unanswered, but they have also encountered one new problem after another. To put it bluntly, it's as if they've been dragged into a quagmire.

The bizarre technology used by these underground Xenos, the altars, the sudden collapse of the spires themselves, and those symptoms.

Anric lowered his head thoughtfully, raised his helmet, closed the visor, and saw his eyes through its reflection.

His Terra- derived black eyes disappeared; now, two black flames surged within them, with only a hint of crimson at their deepest core.

He sighed and put on his helmet. "Keep on guard. They should be launching another attack soon. I did manage to bring that bastard back, but who knows how many there are?"

"Where are you going, Company Commander?"

"I have some questions for the instructor," Anric Barbatos replied calmly.

--

Karyl clenched his fists and exhaled a heavy breath of icy air.

The war continued, and death spread without end. The authority in his chest pounded with his heart, and power itself was being called upon. Karyl, in his own will, transferred these activating powers to others.

Some people did not call upon them.

What would be the consequences of doing this? Karyl didn't know; he only knew he couldn't allow an army of the dead to actually appear aboard the Harkosus I. The Eighth Legion had already shed enough blood today, and he didn't want to see any more.

Karyl sensed the situation throughout Harkosus I through the connection of powers; the spire itself, acting as the medium, was still functioning, and the Xenos living underground were still powering it.

Once a war begins, it will never be swayed by individual will. Karyl wanted to end it, but the other side was unwilling. Or perhaps, in their eyes, it wasn't a war at all, but a blissful sacrifice.

Realizing this, Karyl sighed. He closed his eyes, and blue light dissipated, wrapping around his armor and beginning to pulsate.

The spire obediently complied with his will, obeying anything except stopping the sacrifice. The next second, he descended from the top of the spire to the first level. Opening his eyes, he saw the silent Anric Barbatos.

"Instructor," the Eighth Company Commander greeted him, his voice calm and without using the voice-changing feature. "We have established five defensive zones outside the spire; they won't be able to reach it for the time being."

"Well done, Company Commander Anric," Karyl nodded slightly to him. "But I think you have more to say than just your report."

"I do have one," Anric Barbatos said. "But I'm not sure if you'd answer."

"I will." Karyl looked up at the very top of the spire. This towering building was actually still above the ground from the seventieth floor onwards, so he could "see" the sky above Harkosus through his senses.

The smoke and fire had completely obscured the original blue color, and what remained was anything but peaceful.

Anric was silent for a moment, then removed his helmet, exposing his burning eyes to the air. Karyl lowered his head and met his gaze.

"Is that what you wanted to ask, Anric?"

"Yes, Instructor. I want to know what it is, and I also want to know..." Anric pursed his lips. "What are you?"

Darkness gathered, and the skeleton stared silently at him. A sharp shriek gradually reached Anric's ears. His vision blurred, and in that vision, he saw a storm.

"It's a blessing in the eyes of some people or things, a reward for loyalty. But in my eyes, it's a curse. And I, Anric..."

The storm spoke in a low voice.

"I am Karyl Lohars."

As soon as he finished speaking, the ground began to tremble.

There's one more chapter, I don't recommend waiting, it'll probably be past midnight.