"Death—has such a sweet, familiar serenade."

As a soldier, this wasn't the first time I'd met it. The calm, the numbness, the hollow whispers just before the world disappeared. I'd danced with death before, but this time… this time was different.

There were no voices to call me back, no commanding mentor to drag me from the brink with a firm hand and sharper words. No, this time I was alone.

And yet, I wouldn't let it take me.

My name is Volkner Philipov, and I will not fall. Not like this.

The acrid tang of smoke clawed at my throat as I struggled to focus. My ears rang with the aftermath of an explosion, my vision clouded by tears and swirling ash. I was sprawled on the cold ground, my body too heavy to move.

"Focus," I muttered, though my lips barely formed the word.

"Volkner!" A voice cut through the chaos, sharp and cruel. "You—you, of all people—know what it means to betray your brothers in arms!"

I forced my head to turn, each movement a war against gravity. Renard Ethelwind. His towering frame loomed through the haze, lightning crackling around him like a living thing. His piercing gaze locked onto mine, freezing the air in my lungs.

"You're no brother!" I spat, the words ripping through my throat.

For a heartbeat, something in Renard's expression shifted. His shoulders dipped, and his piercing eyes softened. Sadness crept into his face—a flicker of vulnerability that almost made me wish I hadn't said it. But just as quickly as it appeared, it vanished, swallowed by the fury in his voice.

"You dare!"

Panic surged through me. My mind raced, recalling the design of a missile—a dumb, brutal weapon. I could mold it here, with magic. My fingers twitched as I shaped the memory into reality, etching every detail into my thoughts.

It wouldn't kill him. It didn't need to.

Just make him move.

The missile sprang to life in my hands, raw and unpolished, but functional enough for the purpose. With a flick of my wrist, it launched, the roar of propulsion cutting through the chaos. The explosion was deafening, a shockwave of fire and shrapnel engulfing the space between us.

Thick, choking gas rolled out from the blast, the mustard-yellow haze spreading like a living nightmare. It swallowed Renard's form, obscuring him from view. I tore the gas mask from my side, fumbling as I pulled it on. My hands shook, my skin already burning where the gas had kissed it.

The mask sealed with a faint click, but it didn't stop the pain. The searing reminder clawed at my nerves—I wasn't safe, not by a long shot.

Renard's voice shattered the moment. "VOOOOLKNER!"

The ground beneath me erupted, the force of the explosion hurling me into the air. I threw up a hasty mana shield, the glowing barrier flickering weakly as debris tore through it.

I realized my mistake even as the shield flickered to life. I'd lost precious time with that instinctive movement. The debris tore through my body, splintering bone and tearing muscle.

The sky spun above me, an endless sea of blue. The air felt like concrete as I plummeted, gravity dragging me back to the unforgiving ground. I braced for the impact, curling into myself, the mana shield flickering weakly around me.

My gas mask slipped, and the acrid air seared my throat. The world around me blurred, fading at the edges as my body slammed into the ground.

The impact rattled through my bones, stealing the breath from my lungs. The numbness returned, familiar and cold, whispering promises of rest.

"I make my first big crime," I thought bitterly, my thoughts growing faint. "And it didn't even phase him… I think."

Is this—the end?