I still wonder what would have changed if the apocalypse had never happened. Would doctors have found a cure for aging, or would I have died without hope? Perhaps hope arises in chaos. That's what I tell myself as the whips tear at my skin.
They make me stronger. I scream for tomorrow. It will strengthen me!
One day, I—
---
Rargnes woke up in the military base dormitory. The dreams didn't stop. His first life kept returning, haunting him since the months of his injury. Could the blow to the head with a mace be responsible?
Rargnes scrutinized the grayish forms of the beds in the dormitory at night. He had been placed here, surrounded by his team by the commander's orders. He waited. He shifted in his bed. He tried to sleep, but the voice kept coming back.
"A dark sign comes when no one expects it. Everyone expects the commander's betrayal after the noble's attack, but how many consider his attack before?"
If he changed allegiance to another noble, would that mean the apocalypse—the way of gaining energy—would disappear like the wastelands surrounding this world? If so...
A shiver ran through Rargnes. He looked up, staring at the dormitory wall. The surroundings were quiet, punctuated by the sounds of insects that had returned almost a year later, like all the animals. Perhaps he had abandoned his family's dog, dead of starvation, locked inside their own home.
"All this to die by the noble," he scoffed.
"You couldn't have saved them. Nothing can save them. Time will take them, just like relationships. What's the use in building them? You'll relive it, regardless."
"That's not me!" he cried out. Then, his eyes widened in realization. If the apocalypse stopped, would his power disappear? He heard his heart pounding in the silence like a drum.
"So that's it," he thought. "I see... I never stood a chance from the beginning."
"Nothing says you're going to die, but prepare yourself."
He didn't try to sleep anymore—he could never with these voices. He listened to them, to himself, and devised a plan to stay alive—appear weak but remain extremely bonded with his companions. If necessary, prepare an escape plan. Try to accumulate as much energy as possible but not show it—make Trucdriver far more dangerous than himself.
---
Rargnes leaned forward, resting on his rifle, half-asleep, jolted awake at every tremor of the military convoy in which he sat. He opened a lazy eye, surrounded by his group.
"Didn't sleep well, Commander?" asked Uriel, a commanding woman.
"It could have been better. Are you all ready?"
Rargnes nodded at their responses. He absolutely had to find a faction. Preferably someone who could introduce them.
"Say, Commander, what are you going to do once the battle is over?"
"Hmm?"
Their eyes turned to Marc.
"Against the noble, I mean. What are you all going to do?"
"Um... I haven't really thought about it," said Rargnes. Could he even trust them? How many moles could be in his team? He had been knocked out. A third of his team killed. It must have left scars, fears, an attachment to an outside force. "But well, we have to defeat him first. And in this case, win this battle too."
One thing was certain—he would stay in the background. Or in the center of their small group. It was better to see them as pawns. Discussions continued, with Rargnes staying withdrawn.
Rargnes sighed. They reminded him of Jean. There was no 'Yurs' in this group. It was easy not to care about someone who didn't talk. Who didn't seem to exist. Who just did the job. They were the best soldiers. The ones he wouldn't have trouble sending to their deaths.
Rargnes jumped off the cargo, treading on the forest grass. They parked the vehicles in discreet spots and advanced in single file. The most experienced soldiers—the ones who had joined before the apocalypse—led the way and covered the rear. They traversed the woods and came upon a small wooden cabin.
They exchanged a few visual signs, and a soldier kicked open the door with a sharp blow. The occupants, a group of five, averted their eyes in horror as bullets rained upon them. Some tried to flee in fear, but the bullets caught them in their escape.
In less than five seconds, all the occupants were dead. The soldiers quickly seized all belongings, confiscating their means of communication and casting spells on them.
Rargnes looked at his palm, containing a reload of bullets—6 more bullets imbued with magic, in addition to the 6 on his pistol. The base had spared no effort. The outcome seemed already sealed.
The group left in less than five minutes, leaving the corpses lying on the ground, looks of horror on their faces, their pale limbs, bullets having pierced through their bodies.