"Son, get out of here!" my father's voice thundered, his urgent command cutting through the chaos as I noticed the blood trickling down his cheek. The air was thick with a palpable sense of bloodlust, and as my eyes darted around, all I could see was death—endless pain and misery stretching out before me. Though this wasn't my first encounter with such horror, the scale of devastation was unlike anything I had ever witnessed. Death had been a recurring specter in my life, but never had it revealed itself with such ferocity. Perhaps this was the reason why adults often remarked that I seemed mature beyond my years.
"Listen to me," my father's deep, raspy voice commanded attention as he firmly gripped my arms, shaking me slightly to maintain my focus amidst the turmoil. "I know it's dangerous, but there's a communication device—the one Mavis always used," he explained urgently. I nodded, trying to block out the sounds of gunshots and war cries that filled the air. "It's in the commander's quarters, son. You have to retrieve it for me, okay? This mission is perilous, but it's bigger than both of us. A lot of lives are depending on this," he continued, his voice rising over the chaos. His intense gaze met mine, the seriousness of the situation reflected in his eyes, impressing upon me the gravity of the task at hand.
I gave a quick nod and dashed away from the tank that had shielded us, not once glancing back. I had every confidence in my dad; his expertise in defense, especially his ability to cast protective barriers, gave me little reason to worry.
Yet, my concern grew when I arrived at the commander's quarters and found the comms device missing. The area was in disarray, likely a casualty of the attack, and the vital device I needed seemed to be buried under the scattered rubble. With the pressure mounting, I started to frantically search through the debris, hoping to locate the essential equipment amidst the chaos.
As I began to lift the smaller rocks that my frame could manage, I suddenly felt a jolt—this wasn't the mild startle of a dream interrupting sleep, but a sharp realization that underscored the gravity of our predicament.
I scoured the area for the communication device, but it was nowhere to be found. We were in the midst of war, a scenario I had faced several times before, yet this situation was starkly different. It was orchestrated by someone within our ranks, a betrayal that everyone seemed to acknowledge, but that wasn't the most shocking part. What truly hit me was the realization of how critically my father depended on my success in this mission. Without this device, we would be unable to call for backup, leaving us dangerously isolated in this conflict.
After enduring the harrowing screams of the adults I considered friends for what felt like an eternity, but was probably closer to 5 to 10 minutes, I finally managed to exhale a deep sigh of relief. There it was—I had found it.
The device was akin to the KY-38, encased in a sturdy army green metal box complete with straps for easy carrying. Inside, it was an array of perplexing buttons and wires, the kind that would require months of training to master. Despite its complexity, the immediate relief of finding it overshadowed the daunting task of operating it.
Heaving the device onto my back, I adjusted to its significant weight and started moving as best as I could. The thing was ridiculously heavy. Pardon my French... but not really.
With the device secured, I didn't waste another moment. I took off running back to my father, dodging over debris, broken objects, and maneuvering around the injured bodies scattered around. Each step was driven by the urgency to get back to him and use this crucial piece of equipment.
You might be wondering what an 8-year-old like me is doing in such a place. My father is a war hero in our military, and after my mother passed away from illness, it was just him and me. We've moved from one military base to another, across various countries. I've faced the opposing forces a few times and, despite my young age, I've had to make some dire choices. This is the path my life has taken, and I deeply resent every moment of it. However, I can't bring myself to express these feelings to my father; showing such emotions might be perceived as a sign of weakness. He's not a bad person, just overwhelmingly stern.
I've never really slowed down or allowed myself to get comfortable, and the one time I did, chaos erupted. We placed our trust in others, and look where it got us—I just can't bear it anymore. Despite being just a child, I understand far more than most would expect. I've seen how people are willing to sacrifice everything, even if it means harming thousands, just to save themselves. It's truly horrifying.
After what felt like an eternity, I managed to make my way back to the tank where I had once found refuge. But this time, my dad wasn't there.
"Kid, give me the phone," a tired and rough voice demanded from my left.
Turning, I saw a man with blonde hair dressed in a black uniform adorned with silver buttons and a sword at his side. He wore a similar uniform to my dad's, though his bore insignia of a higher rank. Even without knowing much, I could sense his mana was far stronger than most.
I nodded, relieved to finally take off the heavy green metal box from my aching back. "Thanks, kid," the older man said, his voice carrying a mix of exhaustion and urgency. He quickly began to open the box, pushing buttons and assembling parts with practiced ease.
"Father, my father," I whispered, my voice barely audible. Fortunately, the blonde-haired man heard me. He pointed to the other side of the tank, where the sounds of battle roared louder. That's where my father was, right in the thick of it.
"Damn idiot, he's going to get himself killed," I muttered under my breath, frustration and fear knotting in my chest.
I started to move towards the battle, driven by a desperate need to find my father, but the blonde-headed man caught me by my sore arms and pulled me back towards him, his grip firm and unyielding.
"Oh no, you don't, kid. I don't even know why you're here in the first place, and I'm certainly not going to let a civilian get injured on my watch," the man declared with a smoothness that suggested he had repeated these words countless times before.
"Then close your eyes," I whispered back defiantly as I attempted to pull my arm free, but to no avail. Like I said before, this man was strong.
"Love the sass, kid. You've definitely got some guts," he remarked with a hint of amusement in his voice.
Once again, he gripped my arm, this time a bit more firmly, and guided me to sit down next to him, ensuring I stayed put.
"Let your old man handle this, okay? It would really bruise a man's pride if his kid had to swoop in and rescue him, or even just help out. Besides, I could really use your assistance right here," the blonde man explained, his voice carrying a mix of seriousness and fatigue. He sighed deeply and released his grip on me as I nodded, silently agreeing to stay put and help him instead.
After what seemed like an eternity, the blonde man finally managed to piece together the once-broken communicator. However, despite his efforts, something was clearly amiss—the device wouldn't power on.
"Damn it, this shitty old piece of junk won't come on," the blonde grunted in frustration as he gave the communicator a desperate smack, hoping to jolt it to life.
"Power," I stated simply, breaking the tense silence.
"What did you say, kid?" the man asked, turning his attention toward me with a puzzled look.
"You need a power source, since the original one that was built into it is broken," I mumbled, trying to clarify my point. "Usually, these devices have beast crystals embedded in them. These crystals can transfer mana into a specific type of energy to power the communications devices, though it's admittedly a complex process... unless?"
"Not to be the bearer of bad news, but I already knew that. The problem is, I don't have a beast crystal, and even if I did, you'd need a certain expertise to generate the right kind of energy," the older man responded, his tone a mix of frustration and resignation, which made me shake my head in determination.
I placed my hand on the empty cradle where the beast crystals should have been. Almost instantly, a dance of sparks leapt from my skin, reaching for the dormant device. To my amazement, it stirred, humming to life as if awakened by a resonance with my newfound energy.
"Hold on, I can't maintain this for long; my abilities are still new to me," I yelled, my voice cutting through the crescendo of conflict that surrounded us.
Between the screaming, crying, and the cacophony of spells, bullets, and more, it was nearly impossible to hear anything clearly.
Despite the turmoil, a spark of hope ignited in the older soldier's eyes. He began frantically tuning to different frequencies and pushing buttons on the device. Eventually, he managed to establish contact with HQ. However, the conversation was cut short.
I yanked my hand back from the mechanism and bolted towards the heart of the conflict. A gut-wrenching cry tore through the battlefield—a cry that could only belong to someone with unmatched resolve, someone who faced his foes with unyielding fortitude. That man was my father, and the mere thought of losing another soul I hold dear was unthinkable.
"Kid, leave him! Our focus must be on getting help for our troops—" his words trailed off as I raced ahead, my heart pounding with a fierce blend of fear and determination.