[mass release 1/5]
Goldrics poured more of his integration into his wounds, forcefully channeling what was left of his strength. For a mont, it felt like pouring fire into his own veins, but slowly, he felt the bleeding begin to subside.
He pressed harder, gritting his teeth as a dull pain rattled through his body. The blood continued to dwindle until it finally stopped, and soon after, his flesh began to patch itself together in a slow, thodical process.
Despite the progress, the loss of blood was still taking its toll. Goldrics could feel the emptiness coursing through his body—a cold, weightless sensation that dulled his limbs and made his breaths co shallow. He knew he would be off-balance for a while. But Goldrics was no stranger to the brink of death. He had survived worse.
This is nothing... just another scar to carry, he thought, as he staggered upright, willing his body to stabilize.
In no ti, he’d be ready for combat again. And this ti, he would not allow himself to be caught off guard.
I’ll kill them without fail... and quick—
Before the thought could complete itself, a blinding pain struck him. It ca from behind—a sharp, venomous intrusion that stunned every fiber of his being.
His body froze.
The agony was instant and all-consuming, stabbing through nerves like lightning. His hand dropped from his half-healed throat, and his wide, disbelieving eyes slowly fell to his chest.
There, protruding from the front of his torso, was a sword. A mighty blade had impaled him—entered through his back and exited cleanly from his chest.
He had been attacked... through his do.
Goldrics’ face turned ghostly pale. He trembled as he turned his gaze behind him. There, he saw a small closing hole—so narrow it was unfathomable that a sword could have landed with such lethal precision.
"Damn—Damn it!" he snarled, but the strength behind the words faded as his body swayed, vision blurred, and his mind began to flicker in and out of consciousness.
His knees buckled.
The once-empowering lightning do shattered with a crackling collapse, dispersing into thousands of flickering lights. And at the center of this fading storm knelt Goldrics—sword impaled through him, slumped in defeat.
He gasped. Each breath was a battle, his lungs struggling against the gaping wound. Blood no longer pumped through him—it poured, gushing from the wound and soaking both his insides and his armor in its deep crimson.
Goldrics twisted his body enough to catch a glimpse of his enemies.
"Hohohohoho! How expected... you aren’t those kids from back then," he said, his voice reduced to a breathy rasp. Every word seed like it cost him another ounce of life.
Silver stood so distance away with her hands pressed against Fex’s chest. Her expression was one of grim focus. She didn’t even look toward Goldrics.
The do was gone. The enemy was vulnerable. But her only concern was healing Fex.
Fex lay still, unconscious but breathing. The lightning bolt had done its damage, but thankfully, not enough to kill him. He had expected sothing like this might happen, so he had kept his ability running throughout his body even while unconscious.
Despite his nullification power, he had only managed to absorb half the attack. The rest had slamd him into the air, leaving behind a brutal injury. But it could have been worse.
Silver had reached him just in ti.
Elsewhere, Lloyd remained kneeling, sweat soaking through his armor. His breath ca in jagged bursts as he stared at his trembling hands.
I’m... alive?
He glanced at the scorched earth around him, rembering the lightning tendrils that had surged toward him. They had stopped—just inches before striking him—and then dispersed.
So I don’t die today, he thought, shifting his gaze toward Goldrics, who now knelt motionless in the rubble.
This was it. The perfect mont to strike.
The enemy was weak, unable to defend himself, and couldn’t summon anything. He was vulnerable.
Lloyd tried to push himself up—but as soon as his legs tensed, a wave of uncontrollable pain surged through his body. His muscles scread in protest. His limbs refused to obey.
He had forgotten—he was out of stamina.
The fragnts of his armor began to fall apart, disintegrating into specks of dust that vanished into the air.
Even his integration... it was gone.
He looked at Goldrics again and saw sothing that made his blood boil. A faint, almost smug expression on the man’s bloodied face.
Goldrics looked... gladdened.
Be excited all you want, Lloyd thought, rage welling inside him. I’ll make sure to kill you today.
The two locked eyes. Neither moved. Both barely able to stand, barely able to breathe—but the hatred in their gaze burned stronger than any power they could summon.
Finally, Lloyd broke the silence.
"Why betray the military?" he asked grimly, voice hoarse.
Goldrics’ expression faltered. His smile wavered at the question.
"The military?" he repeated with a bitter scoff. "I lost my loyalty... and my care for it... with the forr ."
Lloyd’s heart sank. This couldn’t be the sa man. This wasn’t the Goldrics he had once admired.
He had taught them how to grow stronger. Helped win a war. Refused the prestigious post of Head General of Titanfang just so he could continue training the younger generation.
Everything he had done... had been for the greater good. And now?
Now, he was tearing it all down.
"This makes no sense. You’re not making any sense—"
Goldrics slowly shook his head.
"There is a promise I made," he said, almost wistfully. "One I swore to keep... for soone."
"So that soone is more important than all you’ve built?" Lloyd asked, needing to hear it aloud.
When Goldrics nodded, the answer solidified sothing in Lloyd’s heart.
The will to complete soone else’s goal... So that’s what fuels him.
Suddenly, Goldrics let out a strained grunt. With all the strength he could muster, he pushed himself to a shaky stance, staggering.
Then he reached out... and placed his hand on the tip of the blade protruding from his chest.
To Lloyd’s horror, he began to push it backward—into himself.
Agony contorted Goldrics’ face. His body jerked violently as the sword moved, inch by inch, deeper into him. Every motion brought a new wave of pain, but he did not stop.
His knees buckled again, and he hunched down.
Then, with a grotesque cry, he threw both arms behind him and yanked the blade free from his back.
Blood gushed from the gaping hole. A thick, dark pool began to collect at his feet, and his form sagged even more.
He was dying. That much was certain.
But even in this state, Goldrics raised his head one last ti.
"I’ll let you all live... for today," he whispered.
With that, his feet lifted from the ground, and he soared into the air—leaving behind the battlefield, and dropping Lloyd’s sword in the process.
The blade fell with a soft clang, striking the dirt.
But Lloyd didn’t take his eyes off the retreating figure—not even for a second.
All he could hope for now was that the man would die from his wounds.
But deep down... he knew the chances were low.
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