Duel of Wills – Nami vs. Elijah (Continued)
Gunfire echoed around them, but Nami and Elijah focused solely on each other. Their blades clashed, sparks flying. Nami used her mind-reading powers, catching fleeting thoughts—left feint, low strike. She parried just in time, panting.
Elijah vanished into thin air. "Let's see how you handle this," his voice taunted from nowhere. Nami's mind strained to pinpoint his next move. She dodged, countering a strike that appeared from thin air. "Not bad," he chuckled. "But can you keep up?"
Bloodied and breathing hard, Nami snapped back, "I don't have to keep up—I just have to outlast you." Elijah grinned as they clashed again, blades locking. "Same old Nami," he murmured. "Stubborn to the end."---
Revelations Amid Battle – Elijah's Past
Their standoff paused as Elijah raised a hand, breathing heavily. "Wait... just—give me a second. Not stalling—well, maybe a little—but humor me, yeah?"
Nami stayed cautious, tension coiled. "Why should I?"
"Because... maybe hearing it helps you understand what you're killing." He sat on a chunk of debris, wiping sweat from his brow. "Back before... all this, I was nobody. Lived in a crap apartment above a garage I worked at. Fixed engines, changed tires. Life was... fine. Boring. Nights were spent with a couple of buddies, cheap beer, bad TV reruns. Thought that'd be it for me."
"What changed?" she asked, blade still ready.
"Funny thing," Elijah chuckled. "Discovered my powers by accident. One night, closing up shop, I dropped my wrench. Bent down to grab it and—bam—my hand disappeared. Thought I was losing it. Tried again—whole arm gone. Pretty soon, I could vanish on command."
Nami's grip tightened. "And you thought that was a gift?"
"Did at first," he said. "My friends did too. Played harmless pranks... sneaking into concerts. Dumb stuff. But after a while... they got weirded out. Said it was creepy knowing I could be anywhere. Started... avoiding me. Conversations got shorter. Calls stopped coming." His smile was bitter. "Turns out being invisible's lonelier than you'd think."
"Doesn't excuse what you became," Nami muttered.
"Didn't say it did," Elijah replied. "Then... the traitor found me. Told me I didn't have to be invisible anymore—not to the people who mattered. Said I could have purpose, be seen... be important. And I—hell—I wanted that more than anything."
Silence hung heavy between them. War still raged beyond their little corner, but for now, it was just them—two people caught in choices made long ago.
"You could've walked away," Nami whispered.
"Yeah," Elijah said softly. "Could've."
The Final Strike
Their moment passed. Elijah's gaze sharpened. "No more stories. Let's finish this."
He vanished mid-lunge. Nami closed her eyes, heart pounding. Listen. Breathe. The faintest shift in air—her instincts flared. She pivoted, striking upward just as Elijah reappeared. Her blade sliced across his side; he gasped, stumbling back.
"You... really are something," he rasped. Blood dripped freely now. His shoulders sagged, but defiance burned in his eyes. "Guess this is where I check out."
Nami approached cautiously. "Any last words?"
"Yeah." He smirked through the pain. "Tell Kai... he's still a terrible card player." A laugh—short, pained—escaped him. "Hell of a fight, Nami. Thanks... for making it real."
Her blade pierced his chest—swift, merciful. Elijah's breath hitched... then faded. His body crumpled to the dirt, a smear of red blooming beneath him.
Nami stood over him, chest heaving. Survivors, his voice echoed in her mind. That's all we are.
Mission's End – A Pyrrhic Victory
"Status?" Emjay's voice crackled through her earpiece.
"Target down," Nami said, voice rough. "Heading to extraction."
Kai and Leon met her at the rendezvous point, faces grim. Behind them, the battlefield was a graveyard—smoke, flames, bodies strewn like discarded memories.
Leon glanced around. "Got the intel... but lost half our squad."
Kai clenched his jaw. "Doesn't feel like a win."
Emjay nodded. "Tie at best."
They rode back in silence, exhaustion hanging heavy.
Reflections at Base – Losses and Doubts
The base was eerily quiet. Around the debrief table, tension thickened the air. Yano's gaze flicked toward Kazuki's closed door. No change. Still trapped in his private hell.
Kai broke the silence. "We got what we needed. But... was it worth it?"
Nami stared at her hands. "Elijah said there aren't heroes. Just survivors."
Leon scoffed. "Dead man's words don't mean much."
"Maybe," Emjay said. "But it's hard to argue when we're losing people faster than we can bury them."
Kai rubbed his face. "How much longer can we do this?"
No one answered.
Enemy Stronghold – Echoes of Frustration
At the enemy base, tension gripped the war room. Dim lights flickered overhead, casting shadows across a cluttered table littered with maps, casualty reports, and half-empty cups of cold coffee. Lester stood at the center, arms folded, gaze locked on the monitor flashing Elijah – Deceased. The cold blue glow reflected off his face, highlighting every crease and line.
Evena stood by the corner, arms crossed. Her usually composed face was marred with frustration. "Another one," she muttered. "How many more?"
Lester's jaw tightened. "Enough to win."
Evena shook her head. "Win? We're throwing bodies at them and calling it strategy. Our people are dying. Lathan's gone, Elijah's dead, and we've lost more than half our frontline squads. The ones left are exhausted. Some of them are barely standing."
"We've bled for this," Lester growled. "So have they. This isn't about surviving anymore. It's about who gives up first—and we won't."
Evena approached the table, pointing at the maps covered in red and blue markers. "We've lost ground here, here, and here," she said, jabbing at the zones. "We can't afford to keep pushing like this without a plan that doesn't involve sending people to their deaths."
Lester slammed a fist onto the table. The room shook, papers scattering. "And what do you suggest? Sit on our hands and wait for them to pick us off? Emjay's team is stretched thin—Kazuki's mental state is crumbling, Nami's shaken, and Kai's impulsive. This is the time to strike."
Evena's gaze softened, voice dropping. "I'm not saying we stop. I'm saying we think. We've lost valuable people. Elijah wasn't just a soldier—he mattered to people here. Morale's plummeting."
Lester rubbed his temple. "Morale doesn't win wars. Pressure does."
The door creaked open, and a young lieutenant stepped in, visibly nervous. "Sir... the latest reports. Emjay's team took casualties but secured intel. Enemy losses are significant... but they're holding."
Lester waved him off. "Leave it." Once the door shut, he scanned the files, eyes darting. "They're weaker, but they're hanging on. We keep squeezing—someone breaks."
Evena sighed. "We're circling the drain, Lester. I don't know if it'll be them or us that goes under first."
"That's why we force a choice," Lester said. "Kazuki's headaches are worsening—we push that advantage. Use their compassion against them. Force them to decide: save him or save the mission."
Evena frowned. "Manipulating someone's mind... that's dangerous."
"War isn't about fair." Lester's voice was cold steel. "Kazuki falls apart, they lose a linchpin."
Silence stretched. Evena glanced at a tattered photo pinned to the wall—soldiers smiling before the war consumed them. "Sometimes I wonder if we're still fighting the enemy... or just fighting not to lose ourselves."
Lester's gaze didn't waver. "Doesn't matter. Only one side walks away from this."
Evena finally nodded, though her shoulders sagged with weariness. "I'll prep the remaining squads."
As she exited, Lester stood alone, the hum of machines filling the space. He stared at the flickering map—red zones bleeding into blue, a grim reflection of the bodies piling on both sides. His reflection caught in the monitor: older, worn, but resolute.
"We finish this," he whispered. "Or we burn trying."
The base hummed with activity outside—footsteps, orders barked—but inside that room, the war felt closer than ever.