It had been three weeks.
Gunfire rattled through the city like an unrelenting storm. Explosions shook the very earth beneath them. Smoke choked the sky, darkening the horizon with the scars of war.
The evacuation was still ongoing.
"MOVE! GET TO THE BASE!" a soldier shouted, his voice raw from endless commands.
Civilians stumbled through the streets, clutching their children, their few belongings—whatever they could carry in their rush to escape. The military base stood as the last line of defense, a towering fortress now housing the remnants of Mars' people.
But outside, the war raged.
The Angel Squad held the front.
Demi-humans, mutants, elite soldiers—everyone was fighting to hold Lionel back. The city had become a battlefield of steel and blood, torn apart by the relentless push of the enemy.
The machines advanced in massive waves, their metallic bodies glinting in the firelight, their unfeeling red eyes scanning for targets. Demon users cut through squads with unnatural speed, their magic warping reality itself as they tore through defenses.
It was pure hell.
And they had to hold the line.
Arnik ran through the battlefield, dodging debris and incoming fire as he grabbed another injured soldier. His arms ached, his uniform was stained with blood—some his, some not—but he kept moving.
"Aika! Got more!" he called out, dragging the soldier toward her.
Aika didn't look up, her hands glowing as she sealed wounds faster than her magic reserves should've allowed. "Drop him and keep going!"
He barely slowed, placing the wounded man beside her before sprinting back toward the front.
Fighter jets streaked across the sky, missiles cutting through the smog-filled air. Each explosion sent shockwaves through the broken streets, shaking Arnik's footing as he pushed forward.
He wasn't here to win a fight. He was here to stop soldiers from dying.
Markus? He didn't see it that way.
Not far ahead, Markus fought without pause. His trident-sword tore through machine and demon alike, his movements calculated, efficient. Soldiers fought alongside him, but he wasn't watching their backs. If they kept up, they kept up. If they fell, that was the risk of war.
Arnik pulled another injured soldier back. Markus cut down another enemy.
Two ways of fighting.
One trying to save lives.
The other making sure they didn't waste time saving the weak.
The soldier lay on the ground, clutching his gut as blood seeped between his fingers. His breaths were ragged, his voice weak. "Markus… please… help me…"
Markus glanced down, his expression unreadable. The battlefield raged around him—explosions, gunfire, the clash of blades and metal—but for a brief moment, there was only the two of them.
His grip on his weapon didn't loosen.
"You're here to make sure I push back these demon machines." His tone was flat, matter-of-fact. "I don't have time to worry about you. Nor is it my job."
The soldier's face twisted in despair.
Markus didn't linger. He turned away, stepping over the dying man and throwing himself back into the fight.
Arnik gritted his teeth, dragging another wounded soldier behind cover before jumping back into the fight. He barely had time to breathe before another wave of machines surged forward. His fists burned with energy, every strike sending shockwaves through enemy lines.
Markus, just a few feet away, fought with brutal efficiency. His blade tore through steel and flesh alike, his movements sharp and relentless. Unlike Arnik, he didn't stop to pull soldiers to safety. He only pushed forward, cutting a path through the chaos.
Arnik could feel the bodies piling up behind them.
Markus didn't care.
They moved together, back-to-back, cutting through the horde. Arnik was holding the line, Markus was breaking it.
The difference between them had never felt so clear.
As they fought, Arnik spoke between heavy breaths, his body covered in dirt, blood, and sweat.
"Markus, this is getting out of hand… We're losing too many."
Markus didn't even glance at him, his blade carving through a machine soldier with a brutal strike. "And yet, we're still standing."
"We're all in this together... We've got each other's backs," Arnik muttered between heavy breaths, his body covered in dirt, blood, and sweat.
Markus didn't hesitate, cutting through another wave of machines. "Arnik, this is war. People must be sacrificed for the greater good."
Arnik clenched his fists. "That's not how I see it."
"You think we can win this without losing people?" Markus scoffed, blocking a strike before countering with a brutal slash. "I don't see them as less human. Every soldier here matters—but sacrifices must be made."
Arnik gritted his teeth. "I don't want to win a war if it means throwing our own people away."
Markus turned, eyes sharp. "We don't get to choose, Arnik. We either fight smart, or we all die."
"You call this smart? Letting them bleed out while you push forward?"
Markus didn't waver. "I call it necessary."
Arnik's glare hardened, frustration clawing at his chest. "And if we win like that, what's left of us when it's over?"
Markus didn't answer right away. His grip on his blade tightened, but before either could say another word—
A surge of power tore through the battlefield.
A wave of dark energy cracked through the ground, making the air heavy and suffocating.
Both turned, instincts sharpening as shadows twisted unnaturally through the ruined cityscape.
Demon users.
Their red eyes glowed through the haze, their bodies pulsing with raw, malevolent energy.
Markus rolled his shoulders, readying his weapon. "Guess the discussion's over."
Arnik exhaled sharply, focusing forward. "Stay sharp. These ones aren't like the rest."
The battlefield was a storm of blood and steel, but against all odds, they were pushing back.
Rose and Kai arrived just in time, cutting through enemy ranks with ruthless efficiency. The tide was turning.
"Looks like you needed our help," Kai quipped, adjusting his glasses.
"Don't fall behind," Rose smirked, twirling her Yari.
"I was about to say that to you!"
Boom. Boom.
The fight was relentless, a blur of clashing weapons and surging magic. But slowly—against the overwhelming force of Lionel's army—the demon users and machines began to fall back.
"We're… actually doing it," Rose panted, dropping to her knees, exhausted.
But Kai wasn't convinced. He pushed up his glasses, his sharp gaze scanning the battlefield. "Something's wrong."
Arnik and Markus followed his line of sight.
The machines had withdrawn—but they weren't retreating. They stood in the distance, silent, unmoving. Their heavy artillery had also stopped, weapons powered down but still aimed forward.
Then they saw him.
A lone figure emerged from the fog of war, walking towards them with a slow, deliberate pace.
The air itself seemed to recoil from his presence, his dark aura bleeding into the battlefield like a suffocating fog.
Markus froze.
He knew that man.
Satsujin.
The one who had murdered his Family
His blood boiled. His vision blurred with rage. Every fiber of his being screamed for vengeance.
Kai glanced at him, instantly recognizing the shift in his demeanor. He could hear Markus whispering under his breath.
"I'll kill you. Kill you. Kill. Kill."
His grip tightened around his weapon, so hard that his hands began to bleed.
"Markus…" Kai said cautiously.
"That's him," Markus muttered, his voice trembling with fury.
Kai's expression darkened. "You're sure?"
"That's him! The one who murdered them… all of them!"
Rose and Arnik exchanged a look. They had never seen Markus like this before.
Satsujin finally came to a stop, his piercing red eyes locked onto them.
Then, without a word, he pressed his hand against the ground.
The earth ruptured.
A shockwave of destruction tore through the battlefield, splitting the ground apart like paper. Soldiers were flung through the air, crushed beneath collapsing rubble, or eviscerated by the sheer force of impact.
"EVERYONE GET DOWN!" Arnik shouted.
But it was too late.