The Inheritor

Standing not far away, the man wearing the black combat gear and the base commander's eyes widened. Over the shots of Mike and the other Rangers, Lecca stood up as she turned towards the sound of feet impacting a small puddle on the ground. Lowering the shield that he used to protect himself and the base commander, the combatant withdrew the sword hanging from his hip. In the blink of an eye a gust of hot wind was launched from his blade, making the princess staggered as she held up her knife and hand casting her nullification magic.

"You bitch!" The man roared, his thick accent breaking. Gripping the hilt of his sword tightly, his eyes flickered towards the remaining men around him being cut down one-by-one by the soldiers he had faced once before. Knocking a clenched fist against the helmet that covered his entire head, the man readied himself as he like the woman before him held his hand up as he casted a spell.

Spouting a pillar of fire from his hand, a violent breeze instantly stopped the spell. The man looked with wide eyes upon the woman who was now charging at him, knife in hand.

"Null magic!?" The man said as he parried the strike the princess made with his short sword, sparks were crated, and the gunfire around them intensified as Lecca's men pushed forward pressing their advantage.

Not giving him a chance to react, she used her arm to swipe at his stomach making him choke before he gripped her head and slammed it into his knee. Dazed she stepped backwards as the man swung his sword downwards, shifting her weight and skidding her boots against the mud, she tackled him forced him on the ground, his silver swords was removed from his grip as it slid into a nearby puddle of water. Grabbing her knife, she swiftly cut at the man's neck, yet the blade was caught by his gloved right hand.

Blood dripped onto his clothing as he found the strength to throw Lecca of. Springing from the ground he horridly walked away, turning his attention to the opposing forces, he cast several bolts of fire well over safe levels and he shot them into the battlefield.

A man on the other side let out a blood-curling scream of pain as he fell to the ground, his weapon falling to his side as the distant gunfire began to dwindle, yet Lecca was not done. She materialized the same sword the man had been using in her hand, and she let out a wary cry as she charged the soldier while casting disruption field preventing anyone else from casting magic.

"They're down! Simon, Lecca, kill the mage!"

Slamming her boots into the ground, Lecca chucked mud at the man's face. He shouted as he wiped the dirt from his visor, yet before he knew it a sharp pain shot from his shoulder like a lightning bolt. Pushing the princess away violently and diving into the mud, the man brandished his sword as he looked towards the sergeant who had just injured him with his gun. Narrowing his eyes and sprinting from the ground, he prepared himself to be shot as he suddenly rushed the gunman.

Despite being shot, and running with heavy armor on, the man was quick on his feet as he sprinted to Mike with the princess hot on his tail. The sergeant clicked his tongue as he noticed the woman sprinting behind his target, were he to shoot the man or were he to miss completely, the 6.5 bullet would either severely wound Lecca or outright kill her if it hit her in the wrong place. Leaving his rifle attached to its sling by his side, Mike withdrew his handgun in anticipation for the princess to move from behind the attacker.

Keeping his forearms outstretched the gunsights wobbled every-so-slightly as he hesitated to place his finger on the trigger. "Get the fuck out of the way!" He screamed breaking his voice. Answering his call, Lecca stepped five feet to the right clearing her of any immediate danger.

Her brown eyes shrunk as the soldier lunged at Mike. Two bright flashes emerged from the barrel of his firearm; four bullets were fired into the man's chest, blood rushed out of his wounds, yet he kept pace. With the man swinging the blade downwards, Mike stepped back out of reflex and aimed his handgun instinctively firing three rounds again into the attacker's chest dropping him to the ground instantly.

With the pain registering in the soldier's mind, he yelled in pain as he rolled around on the ground clutching the wounds inflicted by the handgun. His sword laid not far away, and using the last of his strength, he used a small flame he casted to cauterize some of the holes in his chest. Having no options remaining, the man grabbed a small dagger within his waistband. Being oblivious to what was about to happen, Mike questioned whether he should lower his weapon and provide medical attention to the soldier he shot, yet once the man came to his feet, he flinched preventing him from stopping the man from running the ten feet needed to reach him.

"No! No! No!" Mike said as shot the fresh magazine he had loaded not a second earlier. Four bullets for a total of twelve bullets fired. That was enough to finally bring down the man that had hunted both himself and the princess the previous night.

Breathing heavily, he lowered the gun into its holster on the side of his body. Walking up to him, the princess stood beside him with a pained expression. Motioning for her to help him walk back, she snaked herself under his arms and supported them as their boots made a trail back to where the other Rangers waited.

His ragged breaths fell silent. His muddy gloves gave way to slim, pale fingers that traced the etching paint on his rifle as it slowly fell to his side. He reached out and pulled on dirtied fabrics and a brunt body.

Only two months had passed since Sergeant Randall and the remaining members of Task Force Spare arrived in this brave-fantastical world. He should've known that continuing down this line of work would've killed someone eventually, yet he chalked it up to crazed hypothesis and guesses. For some reason he could still hear the body's cheered voice, even in quiet moments he enjoyed it; now all he heard was silence, the everlasting grief that spread over him prevented even the smallest tear from being shed.

Falling on his knees and resting on the heels of his boots, he took heavy breaths as he looked at the person across from him, Sergeant Malkovich who was sitting on the ground cradling his weapon vertically in his arms. "A fucking fire bolt… Green…" Randall whispered to himself. Defeated even in victory over the unknown enemy, Mike slumped further onto the ground ignoring the searing pains moving through his chest and legs.

He felt shameful. For what reason? He did not know. Perhaps it was the fact that he was the "last one" to truly interact with the now-dead kid. Perhaps he saw apart of himself die with Green. It's not like he didn't know him, they spent plenty of time working together as soldiers, as Rangers; with the sudden transference, that was the time he had to learn more about the Private First Class.

Standing behind him surrounded by his fellow Rangers, his new commanding officer, his new confidant, Princess Leccamaradel Emma Arish the First-Born Princess, watched, feeling the familiar warmth of tears escaping behind her shrunken brown eyes.

It was a guess; unlike her he didn't know what he felt in this moment. Green served under his command and looked up to him as both a role model and a guardian angel, though cruel at times. Placing his hand on the still warm body, Mike retrieved the dog tags around the ghostly-white face of Green. He opened the small pouch were he carried Corporal Ramirez's and placed it inside.

The azure sky shined high above, the sun casting shadows through the now clearing-thick smoke. A sliver of light shined upon the destroyed settlement, the Volunteer Corps and three knights that had refused to go on the mission were already gone, off to report their findings to the king.

Grasping the tan-colored holster sitting on the right thigh of Green's body, Mike slowly stood up and turned around towards the small cluster of Rangers surrounding the princess. As he stumbled forward, almost falling due to his broken ribs, the Rangers moved aside as he approached the silver-haired woman. Taking her hand Mike fell to the ground, Lecca knelt beside him grasping both his shoulder and the object he had forced into one of his hands.

"Why-" She cut herself off as Mike stared at the object in her hands; a FDE colored handgun with a small airborne insignia drawn on a piece of tape resting on the pistol grip.

Removing his hand, Mike breathed, stood, turned, and left.

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Publicly Available Information: Rules of Engagement:

Formally, rules of engagement refer to the orders issued by a competent military authority that delegate when, where, how, and against whom any military force may be used against. In the field of battle each individual soldier is held up to theses standards dictated by their superiors, and there have been serious implications for any who wish to violate such orders.

In the fog of war, there have been both documented and undocumented reports of soldiers taking their orders under their own authority and delegating such decisions to their commanding officers, or local non-commissioned officers.