Rage and Redemption

As chaos engulfed the battlefield, Mike found himself outnumbered, facing three skilled adversaries intent on bringing him down. His movements were slowing, his breaths labored, each strike from his opponents taking its toll on his already weary body.

Avra, ever vigilant, spotted the dire situation unfolding. he abandoned her current opponent and sprinted towards Mike's aid. Despite the danger that lurked in every direction, she knew she had to protect her captain at all costs.

As she neared Mike's position, her heart pounded with adrenaline. With a swift and calculated motion, she intercepted the attacks aimed at him, deflecting blades and delivering counterstrikes with unmatched skill. Her movements were precise, her focus unwavering, as she fought to create an opening for Mike to regain his footing.

"Stay focused, Captain!" she shouted over the din of clashing blades.

As Mike felt Avra's support bolstering him, he summoned every ounce of strength he had left. he pushed himself up, standing beside her as they faced their foes together. 

With a weary grin, he glanced at her and quipped, "I never thought I'd see the day you'd come to save me. Thought you hated me too much for that."

Before Avra could retort, a sudden jolt of pain pierced through Mike's body.

He was stabbed from behind.

His eyes widened in shock as he stumbled forward, blood spilling from the wound.

"Mike!" Avra cried out, her voice filled with alarm and concern, as she moved to support him, her heart sinking at the sight of her wounded captain.

Her actions were a blur as she ignored the danger surrounding them, her only concern being Mike's well-being.

"Vice-captain!" one of their comrades bravely stepped forward, shielding them from the next blow.

The clang of metal against metal rang out as the attacker's blade was deflected by the courageous soldier's shield.

As Mike lay in Avra's arms, on the brink of death, he noticed her reluctance to let him go. Despite the pain wracking his body, he summoned the last remnants of his strength and gently pushed her away. Avra looked at him in confusion. 

"W-What are you doing?" she sought out, her eyes filled with tears.

With a faint smile, Mike whispered, "Captain, your comrades need you."

And with those words, he let himself fall to the ground, his strength finally giving out.

Avra's tears flowed freely as she watched him slip away, grappling with the overwhelming emotions coursing through her.

"Why am I crying?" she whispered to herself.

Avra approached Mike's lifeless body lying on the ground, her heart clenched with sorrow and regret. 

"...Why?... why?" 

She knelt beside him, her hands trembling as she reached out to his face.

"I hate you! I totally hate you!"

"I hate you, so please...wake up..."

As Avra hugged Mike's lifeless body, Zagan witnessed her grief-stricken expression, his own heart heavy with sorrow and rage.

The loss of their captain fueled a fire within him, igniting a ferocious determination to avenge his fallen comrade.

"Mike..." Zagan whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he clenched his jaw, his gaze hardened with resolve.

He knew that Christos was responsible for this senseless tragedy, and he vowed to make him pay dearly for it.

With a primal roar, he unleashed his fury upon Christos's soldiers, his sword slashing through the air with deadly precision. He fought with a relentless intensity, his movements fueled by a potent combination of grief and rage.

As the battle raged on, Zagan became a whirlwind of destruction, cutting down anyone who dared to stand in his path. His mind was consumed by thoughts of vengeance. 

The soldier's heart pounded in his chest as he watched Zagan's approach, his hands trembling around the hilt of his sword. Sweat beaded on his brow, his breaths coming in shallow gasps as he prepared for the inevitable confrontation.

Zagan's imposing figure loomed closer, his steps purposeful and deliberate, sending a shiver down the soldier's spine.

"Please," the soldier stammered, his voice barely above a whisper,

"I-I don't want to fight you. I surrender, I beg you!" His words fell on deaf ears as Zagan continued his advance, his eyes blazing with an intensity that sent chills down the soldier's spine.

Zagan halted a few paces away, his gaze piercing through the soldier's trembling form.

"You had your chance to surrender when you joined Christos," he growled, his voice low and menacing.

"P-Please save my life, I have a family." 

Zagan's eyes burned with a ferocious intensity as he glared at the pleading soldier, his grip tightening on his sword.

"You have a family?" he bellowed, his voice echoing across the chaos of the battlefield.

"Did you think of that when you struck down my comrades when you threatened innocent lives?"

He took a step closer, the soldier recoiling in fear.

"Captain had a family too," he continued, his voice dripping with disdain.

"His sister is waiting for his return, just like your family will be waiting for you. But you chose to follow Christos, to spill blood in his name." He raised his sword, his expression cold and unforgiving.

"Now face the consequences of your choices."

With a swift strike, he ended the soldier's pleas, his resolve unwavering amidst the turmoil of battle.

As the battle raged on, Zagan's muscles burned with exertion, his sword arm weary from countless clashes with Christos's soldiers.

His gaze flickered up to where Christos stood, a sneer of satisfaction twisting his features as he observed the chaos below. The sight only fueled Zagan, his hatred for the tyrant intensifying with each passing moment.

Zagan's eyes narrowed as he caught sight of the mysterious figure standing beside Christos, partially concealed in shadow. Despite only seeing a fraction of his face, a sense of recognition stirred within Zagan, sending a chill down his spine.

The crimson hue of the man's eyes gleamed ominously, a stark contrast to the chaos unfolding around them.

With a frown, he recalled the encounter he had in the restroom, the memory still fresh in his mind.

Could this be the same individual he had seen before?

The resemblance was uncanny, and he couldn't shake the feeling that this man held some significance in the unfolding events.

Hours earlier...

Casimir's footsteps echoed through the grand halls of the palace as he made his way towards the commotion of battle. His expression was grim, disappointment evident in the furrow of his brow and the tight set of his jaw.

He had received word from one of his trusted men that Christos's soldiers were engaged in combat with Themis's forces, a development that left him disheartened.

Arriving at the scene, his gaze fell upon Christos, who sat perched upon his throne-like chair, a smirk playing upon his lips. His servant stood nearby, fanning him lazily as if they were mere spectators to the violence unfolding before them.

Casimir stepped forward, his voice cutting through the chaos of battle as he addressed Christos from behind.

"You're really enjoying this, aren't you?" he remarked, his tone laced with contempt.

"How foolish of you to revel in such senseless bloodshed."

Christos turned to regard him with a smirk, his eyes glinting with amusement.

"Ah, Casimir," he responded, his voice dripping with mock politeness.

"I see you've come to join the festivities. Do you disapprove of my methods?" he taunted, gesturing lazily towards the ongoing battle.

His lip curled in disdain as he met Christos's gaze.

"I disapprove of wasting our skilled soldiers on petty conflicts," he retorted sharply. 

"Let us enjoy the show. There will be plenty of time for strategy later," he replied. 

Casimir's smirk deepened into a look of disappointment as he leaned towards Christos, his voice a low, scornful whisper.

"You are nothing without me," he murmured.

Christos's eyes flashed with anger at Casimir's audacity, and he rose from his throne-like chair in a fit of rage. Grabbing Casimir by the collar of his robes, he pulled him close, his grip tightening with each passing moment.

"Don't you dare forget who holds the power here," Christos growled, his voice laced with menace.

"I am the king, and you are nothing but a mere advisor."

But Casimir remained unfazed by Christos's display of authority, his expression nonchalant and stoic. With a calm demeanor, he continued to smirk at Christos, his gaze unyielding.

"You may be the king for now," Casimir replied coolly.

"but remember, I am the one who wields true power behind the throne. Cross me again, and you may find yourself regretting it."

Christos's grip loosened slightly as he considered Casimir's words.

He straightened his robes with a composed air, his gaze shifting downward to where the chaos of battle unfolded. Amidst the turmoil, his eyes locked with those of a red-haired boy, a spark of recognition flickering between them. Casimir's grin widened imperceptibly as he exchanged gazes at him. 

Turning his attention back to Christos, his demeanor remained calm but commanding.

"Stop this battle at once," he declared.

"Or face the consequences."

Christos's expression wavered, a mixture of frustration and begrudging respect evident in his features. Reluctantly, he signaled to his men to cease their assault, begrudgingly acquiescing to Casimir's demand.

He reluctantly rose from his seat and began speaking, commanding his followers to cease the battle.

His command to halt the battle was met with a collective sigh of relief from the weary combatants below. As the clash of steel subsided, Themis, battered but unbowed, met Christos's gaze with unwavering defiance.

"I'll let you go for now," Christos sneered, his voice dripping with condescension as he addressed Themis.

"But return when you're ready for a real fight, with soldiers worth facing."

Themis, though exhausted and battered, squared his shoulders and returned Christos's smirk with a steely glare of his own.

"Give me back my child," he demanded. 

"I hope I have the princess."

Christos's words struck Themis like a blow to the gut, leaving him momentarily speechless.

"What do you mean?" he demanded, his voice tinged with desperation.

"You don't have my child?"

Christos's smirk widened into a cruel grin as he delivered his taunting reply.

"I don't have the princess or the holy saint," he admitted, his tone dripping with disdain

"My men found them, but they were protected by some blind fool. It was a minor inconvenience, but it irritated me nonetheless."

Themis's heart sank as the implications of Christos's words sank in. If Christos didn't have Ayira and the holy saint, then where were they? And who was this mysterious blind protector who had thwarted Christos's plans? The questions swirled in Themis's mind, filling him with a sense of dread.

"Your Highness! The princess and holy saint are returned!" yelled a magician who came from the tower and ran to the palace to report the good news to the king soon after he saw the princess, and the holy saint returned to the tower without any injuries.