Aurora battlefront: Era of Salvation

Tension clung to the air like a fog, thick and stifling. The commander stood rigid, blade in hand, his grip so tight his knuckles turned white. His eyes locked onto the figure before him. “Mordred’s Solace.” His voice was a low growl, laced with anger and something darker, a hint of fear. “Bold of you to show your face, traitor.”

The man before him, shrouded in dim light, was a haunting contrast. A masked face hid everything but his eyes. They glowed red, like embers from a dying fire. Jet-black hair framed the mask. Mordred chuckled, producing a cold, hollow sound. “Traitor?” he mused, his voice calm and mocking. “I prefer ‘freedom fighter.’”

The commander’s heart pounded in his chest, his every instinct screaming to strike. But the weight of memories rooted his feet to the ground. “Freedom fighter?” he spat, his blade trembling as he pointed it at Mordred’s chest. “You’re no hero. Because of your actions, how many lives did you and your comrades take? Because of the massacre?” Mordred tilted his head at a slight angle, unfazed. “Necessary sacrifices,” he said in a calm voice. “For a better—”

“Sacrifices?” The commander’s voice cracked, fury boiling over. “You’ve gone mad!” In a flash, the world shattered. Mordred’s blade sliced through the air, a blur of steel. Pain exploded through the commander's body. Mordred's blade sliced through the air, a blur of steel. It severed his arm at the elbow, and his scream echoed off the concrete walls. Blood sprayed in thick arcs, painting the room crimson. His sword clattered to the ground, producing a dull ring that the chaos swallowed.

Mordred stood over him, wiping his blade on the commander’s cloak, his voice a murmur. “Interrupting me... how rude.” He glanced at the severed arm, still twitching. With clinical precision, Mordred picked it up. He pressed the commander's lifeless hand to the security panel on the wall.

[Access granted.]

The voice sounded mechanical, detached, and emotionless. It stood in stark contrast to the commander's gasps of agony. Mordred smirked beneath his mask, the red gleam of his eyes flickering. The commander writhed on the ground behind him. He clutched his bloody stump, his eyes wild with pain. “You... you bastard,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “I’ll... kill you!”

Mordred didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. Instead, he stepped closer. His boots clanged in the silence. He stooped and picked up the commander's fallen blade. He examined it with detached curiosity. “Let’s put an end to this, shall we?” For a moment, time stretched out. The commander’s eyes widened in realization, a moment of pure, desperate terror. And then, with one clean stroke, the blade fell.

Thud-!

The commander's headless body collapsed with a sickening squelch. Blood pooled beneath him, spreading across the concrete floor. The echo of the fall faded, swallowed by the icy stillness of the room.

Mordred remained still for a beat, staring at the growing pool of blood. His red eyes flicked toward the far corner of the room. “Ah,” he muttered, almost as if he had forgotten. “You three.” In the shadows, three soldiers trembled. Their faces were pale, and their eyes were wide with horror. One of them whimpered. “P-please... spare us,” he begged, his voice a faint whisper. Another broke down, tears streaming down his face. “We’ll do anything! Just let us live!”

Mordred’s gaze lingered on them for a moment, cold and unreadable. He extended his hand with deliberate care. The blood from the commander’s body stirred, swirling and rising into the air. It coalesced into a wicked weapon resembling a scythe, formed from blood alone. “I’m afraid,” Mordred said, his voice as empty as the air between them. “Your time has come.” In one swift motion, the scythe cut through the air, as if slicing through the very fabric of reality.

Thud- Splash-

The soldiers’ bodies crumpled to the floor, lifeless. Their heads rolled, joining the growing sea of blood. Mordred, unfazed, turned back to the security panel. His hands moved swiftly across the interface.

[Removing rift shield: Confirmed.]

Outside, the fortified building's antennae crackled to life. They sent out a powerful signal. Moments later, the sky above began to tremble. The city's shimmering barrier flickered, then collapsed. The light sputtered out like a dying star. In the distance, the sound of explosions rumbled through the air. Mordred stepped toward the window, watching the chaos unfold. His red eyes gleamed as the city's skyline darkened. It was a sign of impending doom. He smiled, though no one could see it beneath his mask.

“Let the blood of the fallen pave the way for the New World.”

[end of chapter]