Drakonis Continent, 2027 CE
Kellan Reed pushed himself forward, the weight of his breath heavy in his chest as he sprinted through the dense jungle, his feet barely touching the ground. The underbrush tangled at his boots, but he didn't slow, the thick trees and gnarled vines giving way to his advance like a blur of green shadows. Behind him, the crackle of his team's movements blended into the quiet hum of the jungle, the sound muffled by the thick, humid air.
His dark eyes narrowed as the familiar weight of the battle surged in his veins. How long until they let me see it? he wondered for the thousandth time, his thoughts flickering back to the distant island that had haunted his family for generations—Viridion Island, where his father's legacy and unanswered questions about his own power still lay. Every mission, every errand, felt like a distraction, a hollow shell of what he truly wanted. He wanted answers. He wanted to see the island for himself.
Ahead of him, Captain Ricard Kane, the leader of the unit, moved with effortless precision, his imposing figure cutting through the foliage like a shadow made of steel. Kane's presence was an embodiment of command—tall, broad-shouldered, with a hard, weathered face etched with experience and sharp intelligence. His badge—a silver dagger emblem—gleamed faintly against his chest, marking him as one of the Blade Order, an elite force tasked with protecting Drakonis from threats both internal and external.
Kellan's own badge—a black dagger symbol set against a gold background—mirrored Kane's, signaling his own place in the Blade Order as Vice Captain. The dagger, a weapon of both power and precision, was the symbol of the Blade Order's purpose: a swift strike to eliminate any and all threats, and to protect the sovereignty of Drakonis from all who would try to breach it.
Every soldier, every warrior, carried the weight of their power with them. Kellan's thoughts flickered briefly to the many questions that had lingered about his abilities, especially the connection to Viridion Island. His natural regenerative power was far beyond the average Vironite, a gift—or a curse—that he'd never fully understood. But it wasn't just his healing factor that had him questioning. It was the ability he had inherited: Vital Extraction, the power to draw vitality from surrounding organisms, temporarily boosting his own healing. Kellan had learned to use it in the heat of battle, pulling life energy from wounded enemies or the plants around him. But it came with a cost. He would experience extreme pain during regeneration and overusing his ability strained his body, leaving him fatigued and sometimes even weakening his own healing ability. He had yet to master it.
His fingers tightened around his weapon, a sleek, jagged-edged blade. The battle was coming.
As they emerged from the jungle, the sight of the Blade Order base came into view—a fortified compound of sleek metal walls and watchtowers that now flickered in the distance, smoke rising into the evening sky. The air was thick with the stench of burning wood and blood.
Suddenly, Kane's voice sliced through the rising tension. "The information was right. Those bastards from the Eternal Order have infiltrated our territory." His tone was low, but his words carried the weight of betrayal and vengeance. "Prepare for battle. Don't leave any enemy alive."
Kellan's heart clenched as he watched Kane motion to one of the soldiers. A slender figure appeared, carrying a gleaming, metallic platform. The platform was long, narrow, and aerodynamic—crafted from a nearly indestructible alloy that allowed for swift travel over almost any terrain. The soldier placed it before Kane and Kellan, stepping back as Kane's voice rang out, "I and Vice Captain Reed will go ahead. Tessa, you follow us with Victor. The rest of you, move fast and engage the enemy as soon as possible. No hesitation."
Without waiting for a response, Kane and Kellan jumped onto the platform, which instantly hummed to life. Powered by Kane and Tessa's unique Molecular Friction ability, the platform shot forward like a streak of light, effortlessly gliding through the air and over the ground. Molecular friction was a manifestation of both Kane's and Tessa's ability to manipulate the friction between molecules, allowing them to control the velocity and movement of objects with pinpoint precision.
Kellan felt the air rush past him as they tore across the landscape, his mind focused on the upcoming battle. He wasn't just a soldier; he was something more, something different. His regenerative ability had made him an ideal warrior, but the process was far from painless.
Kellan could feel the familiar surge of power as they tore across the battlefield. The hum of the platform beneath him was the only sound in the world, the scenery a rushing smear of colors. Kane's focus was absolute, his blade flashing in the dim light as he sliced down intruders with deadly efficiency.
"Stay sharp," Kane's voice crackled through the comm-link. "You know what to do, Vice Captain."
Kellan nodded grimly. He always knew. He always knew. His body, enhanced by his unique ability, was faster and stronger than that of any ordinary Vironite. It was a gift he still couldn't fully understand, a gift that had come from his father's forbidden exploration of Viridion Island. But Kellan didn't have time to question it—he had a mission, and the mission had always been clear: protect Drakonis and eliminate the threat posed by the enemy.
As they reached the heart of the base, the battlefield erupted in chaos. Kellan leapt from the platform, landing with a thud that vibrated through his bones. Kellan's body moved on instinct. His blade was in his hand before he even realized he had drawn it. He lunged forward, the world around him blurring as his body became an instrument of death. The first enemy he encountered was a tall figure, eyes wide with a manic desperation. Kellan's sword met the man's chest with a sickening crack, cutting clean through ribs, muscle, and organs. The force of the blow sent a spray of blood erupting from the open wound, splattering across Kellan's face and dripping down his armor in crimson streaks.
The man's mouth opened in a silent scream, but no sound came out as Kellan's blade twisted, slicing deeper. His sword cleaved through the man's heart, the muscle and arteries tearing apart like wet tissue. The body dropped to the ground, a limp heap, as the spray of blood continued to pour out in a grotesque fountain.
Kellan barely had time to react as another soldier charged at him. A jagged blade cut across his chest, and Kellan felt the cold, sharp sting of the wound. Blood oozed from the gash, but there was no time to focus on it. The world was carnage. He swung his blade downward, cutting through the man's collarbone with a sickening crunch. The force of the strike drove the blade into the soldier's throat, severing the windpipe. Blood poured from the wound like a river, spilling across Kellan's hands as he tore the sword free.
The battlefield was a nightmare of mutilated bodies, the air thick with the metallic tang of blood. Every strike, every cut, came with its own horror. His boots slipped in the growing pool of blood that covered the ground, his hands slick with the gore of his enemies.
A sharp pain shot through his side, and Kellan gasped, stumbling back as a blade embedded itself deep into his flesh. The jagged edge scraped against his ribs, cutting through muscle and bone. His vision swam, a haze of pain clouding his mind, but he didn't stop. He couldn't. He gritted his teeth as he looked down at the wound, feeling the blood pulse out of him. The agony was unbearable.
Regeneration... Kellan thought, forcing the word through his pain-clad mind.
The agony hit him like a tidal wave. His body went rigid as his cells screamed in protest, but there was no turning back. Regeneration for Kellan was nothing like it was for the others. The healing process was not a smooth, painless repair—it was a violent reconstruction of his body. His flesh tore apart as new cells tried to replace the damaged tissue, fibers of muscle snapping back into place with an audible pop. His ribs shifted, grinding against each other as the jagged bone fragments slowly knitted themselves back together. It was like molten fire surging through his veins, a scalding heat that burned everything inside of him.
His stomach churned as the internal organs—his liver, stomach, and intestines—shifted and reformed. His stomach lining twisted in agonizing waves as his organs remade themselves, tearing and healing in a grotesque cycle. He felt his lungs inflate with agonizing slowness, each breath a sharp, stinging reminder of the pain. His heart was no longer just an organ; it was an inferno of flesh and blood, contracting painfully as it surged with every beat.
His vision blurred, his world reduced to blinding agony as the internal damage healed. He felt his spine snap and realign, vertebrae grinding against one another in a sickening crunch. His muscles quivered as they stretched back into place, every tendon groaning in protest.
The wound finally closed, but the aftermath was worse than the injury itself. His body was shaking uncontrollably, drenched in sweat and blood, every inch of him trembling with exhaustion. Kellan staggered, his legs buckling beneath him, but he forced himself upright. The battlefield was not done with him yet. The Eternal Order soldiers were still coming, a relentless wave of rage and desperation, their twisted bodies pushed beyond human limits by their powers.
Tessa appeared beside him, her blade drawn, moving in sync with him as she dispatched another opponent with a swift slash. Her silver hair glittered in the dim light, her eyes sharp and calculating.
Victor, too, charged into the fray, his hulking frame an immovable force as he bulldozed through the enemy lines. His power to consume and break down toxins allowed him to wade through the battlefield unharmed, even as the enemy's mutated bio-weapons unleashed their venomous attacks.
Kellan didn't feel the victory—not yet. Not when the battlefield was still strewn with bodies. He turned his gaze to Captain Kane, who was now in the heart of the chaos, his blade flashing as he cut down foes left and right.
It was then that Kellan saw him—a figure standing in the center of the base, a man who looked both terrified and defiant. Captain Kane was already moving toward him.
"Why did you betray the Blade Order?" Kane growled, his grip tightening around the man's throat as he lifted him off the ground.
The man, Roy Hardy, spat in Kane's face. Blood stained Kane's cheek, but the captain's rage was unstoppable. With a swift, brutal motion, Kane crushed the man's neck with his bare hands, the sickening crack echoing through the base. Blood poured from Hardy's mouth, his eyes rolling back as he fell limp in Kane's grip.
The sight was enough to freeze the remaining members of the team. Some looked away, others stood motionless, as Kane let the body fall to the ground like a ragdoll. Blood pooled beneath it, staining the dirt a deep crimson.
"End of the line," Kane's voice cut through the chaos. "Finish them."
Kellan looked around, his vision clouded by blood and the haze of pain. The battlefield was a graveyard. The Eternal Order forces had been decimated, their bodies shattered, broken, and scattered across the ground. Some lay in pools of their own blood, their internal organs spilling from ripped-open stomachs, their bodies unrecognizable. It was carnage in its purest form.
Kellan stood at the edge of the battlefield, his chest heaving with exhaustion. The fight had been brutal, leaving behind a carnage that could not be undone. The stench of blood and death hung thick in the air, clinging to his skin and seeping into his clothes. He wiped his blade clean, his eyes scanning the remains of the skirmish—a graveyard of bodies, both friend and foe.
Tessa and Victor were standing a few paces away, their bodies battered but still standing, both as covered in blood as he was. Tessa's face was pale, but there was a fire in her eyes that wouldn't fade. Victor, though silent, was as composed as ever, despite the wounds that marred his form.
Kane wasted no time, pulling out a communication device. His voice was calm, precise. "The information was right. The Eternal Order has infiltrated our borders. Roy Hardy has betrayed us."
The static crackled on the other end as the orders came in. Kellan's stomach twisted as he listened to the confirmation. The battle had only just begun.
The comm-link clicked off, and Kane turned to face his team. His eyes were cold, his voice hard. "The battle's over. The rest of the enemy is eliminated. Move quickly—secure the perimeter, clear the mess, tend to the wounded and prepare for the night."
As night fell, the base stood in eerie silence, broken only by the sounds of their comrades cleaning up the mess. Tessa and Victor approached Kellan, concern in their eyes. "You okay?" Tessa asked softly, her voice filled with unspoken worry.
Kellan nodded, but the pain from his regeneration still throbbed through his body, a constant reminder of the price he paid for his strength. "I'll be fine," he muttered, though his words felt hollow.
Kellan turned toward them, his voice rough, exhausted. "We need to rest. We can't keep going like this. Tomorrow morning, we head back to the main base."
Tessa nodded, her breath shallow as she glanced at the devastation around them. She didn't argue. No one did. The air felt thick, like it was suffocating them, and the pain of their injuries was too fresh to ignore.
"Right. We'll need all the strength we can get for what's ahead," Victor added quietly, his gaze distant as he surveyed the battlefield one last time.
The three of them found a small area, sheltered from the worst of the blood-soaked remains, and settled down for the night. The air was oppressive, thick with the lingering smell of blood, sweat, and the metallic tang of death. Even as they lay there, the weight of the battle pressed down on them.
The battlefields of Drakonis were like this—bitter and unforgiving. They could hear the sounds of distant fighting, the echoes of war still hanging in the night. But here, under the shadow of the trees, Kellan, Tessa, and Victor tried to sleep, though it was nearly impossible to escape the gruesome images that danced behind their eyelids.
Their bodies were coated in blood, their clothing soaked with the remnants of the carnage they had just witnessed. Even as Kellan closed his eyes, the feeling of the torn flesh and the sound of crushing bones still reverberated in his mind. The blood—the blood never truly left.
They slept uneasily, surrounded by the horrors of the battle, the oppressive scent of death filling their lungs as they tried to rest. The world around them was death. And tomorrow, they would face more of it.