CHAPTER 145: CHAPTER 145 | PRELUDE IN RED

Her voice tore through the open landscape, sharp and unyielding, the kind that carried the weight of both anger and disbelief.

The echo of it seemed to linger in the air, clinging to the cold tension between them as Dreilla’s grip on Jinn’s collar tightened.

Her knuckles whitened, her jaw set like stone, but Jinn didn’t flinch.

He simply stared back into her eyes—steady, unblinking, unreadable.

No apology.

No explanation.

Just the kind of silence that felt heavier than any retort.

*fhwip!

Without warning, he swatted her arm away with a swift, dismissive motion, breaking her hold as though it were nothing more than an annoyance.

The sudden release made her stumble half a step back.

Jinn didn’t wait or look back—he walked right past her, the faint metallic click of his synthetic arm’s joints sounding as he moved, brushing her shoulder in the process.

It wasn’t accidental.

He stopped only a few paces ahead, tilting his wrist so the dim glow of his datapad illuminated the scuffed surface of his armor.

His fingers tapped the device with precision, pulling up the comms channel.

"Cannons are destroyed, General," he reported, his voice steady and cold.

"Enemy soldiers have retreated into the city."

He didn’t add the "by my doing,"

but it was there—hanging between the words.

"Any orders?" he asked, his tone clipped.

The datapad crackled and buzzed before a voice came through, deep and authoritative.

Gaius.

"Well done, boy," the General’s voice rumbled with satisfaction.

"We will be there any moment now—ready yourselves."

The signal cut out with a sharp click, leaving only the low hum of the datapad and the wind whipping through the battlefield.

Dreilla and the rest of the squad stared at Jinn.

Some looked at him with narrowed eyes, confusion etched deep into their faces, while others bore blank, unreadable expressions—yet even those vacant looks carried weight.

The silence that hung over them wasn’t idle—it pressed in like a thick fog, heavy enough to make the air feel hard to breathe.

Jinn could feel it—their eyes boring into his back like a wall of unspoken accusations.

He didn’t turn around, didn’t acknowledge them, but the pressure was there all the same, creeping in like the slow tightening of a vice.

Dreilla broke it first.

Her boots crunched against the dirt as she stepped forward, each step carrying the sharp edge of her disbelief.

"You just... let them go," she said at last, her voice low but cutting, the kind that demanded an answer whether or not she expected to get one.

She stopped at his side, close enough that he could see her hand trembling slightly as she gripped her rifle tighter.

"Those soldiers you fought—those were the same ones tearing our lines apart days ago. You could’ve finished them, ended the threat right there, but instead..."

Her words faltered into a mix of frustration and something else—something almost like betrayal.

Her free hand snapped up, gesturing toward the distant shimmer of the azure eidra gates.

They still pulsed faintly against the horizon, their glow sealing in the silhouettes of the retreating enemy forces.

"You handed them a safe way out," she spat, each word laced with disbelief. "And now they’re in there, escaping, in which could’ve been assets the empire could have used."

Geryhn, another squad member—a young sharpshooter whose visor covered half his face—let out a sharp breath, muttering just loud enough for everyone to hear.

"We’re out here risking our necks, bleeding for every inch, and he’s making deals with the enemy."

His words cut through the air like shrapnel, and the look he shot Jinn was cold enough to frost metal.

Zynh’s voice followed from the side, deeper, heavier, carrying that edge of restrained anger.

"What’s your game, Jinn? You planning to tell us why you didn’t just cut them down when you had the chance? Or should we just keep guessing until the general shows up?"

Jinn stopped mid-step.

His hand came to rest lightly on the hilt of his sword—not in threat, but in that still, deliberate way that made it impossible to tell if he was holding himself back or simply waiting.

The only sound that dared to fill the gap was the distant, fading roar of evacuation ships breaking atmosphere above the city.

When he spoke, his voice was calm—too calm.

"Not every enemy you kill makes you stronger," he said, his tone smooth but carrying a weight that dared them to argue.

"Sometimes, letting them live buys you something far more valuable."

The squad exchanged uneasy glances, the confusion in their eyes sharpening instead of fading.

Dreilla’s jaw tightened, every instinct telling her to push, to drag an answer out of him by force if she had to.

But there was something in the deliberate quiet of his tone—like a locked door with no handle—

that told her she wouldn’t get anything more out of him now.

*grrrrrrrrrrrrrrr~~~

Behind them, the low rumble deepened, swelling until it became a bone-shaking quake beneath their feet—the herald of an approaching storm.

The horizon stirred, blooming with movement, until the haze of dust and heat began to shape itself into something far more defined: the vanguard of the Zerafhon army, cresting over the ridgeline like a tide of steel and fire.

Rows upon rows of infantry advanced in flawless formation, their armor catching the faint light and glinting like cold glass.

*Thud! *Thud! *Thud! *Thud!

The steady rhythm of their march merged into a single, rolling thunder, each step perfectly timed.

Behind them came the true monsters of war—siege engines so massive their shadows swallowed entire sections of the battlefield.

hese were no crude machines, but towering constructs of alloy and reinforced eidra plating, their reactor cores glowing faintly as they hummed with restrained, devastating power.

Massive artillery walkers followed in their wake, each the size of a small fortress, their cannon barrels rotating slowly, tracking the city walls as if already tasting their first kill.

Yet even those behemoths shrank before the shape that emerged at the center of the host.

A siege ram—no relic of old timber and rusted iron, but a juggernaut forged for a new age—rolled forward, its bulk a mountain of interlocked plates and rotating eidra reactors that pulsed like a colossal heartbeat.

The prow was a wedge of shimmering azure steel, sharpened to a cruel edge, built to shear through the strongest barriers ever conceived.

Mounted high atop the armored beast was a command platform, and there stood General Gaius himself.

His crimson cloak snapped and cracked in the wind, and the glint of his cybernetic eye swept across the battlefield in measured arcs, as though calculating every possible outcome before the first blow was even struck.

*grrrrrrrrrrrrrr! *click! *click!

The siege ram did not rush—it pressed forward, every grinding rotation of its massive wheels crushing rock and wreckage to powder, until it loomed before the city’s towering azure eidra gates.

The barrier shimmered and hissed, threads of energy spiderwebbing across its surface, the hum of its power deepening as if bracing for the inevitable impact.

The noise of the army dimmed, not in silence but in a collective inhalation—a tense, expectant pause before the break.

The air felt heavier, each heartbeat stretched thin over the razor’s edge of what was about to happen.

The army stood assembled.

The siege engines were primed.

The enemy was sealed behind their wall.

And as the massive ram angled its shimmering prow toward the gate.

"Now, let’s finish this." Gaius spoke.