All across the nation, every recruit who had chosen to revolt against Armin prepared for the inevitable. This was no longer just a rebellion—it was a desperate stand against a force they could no longer tolerate. The camp was a flurry of motion: armor clinking, weapons being sharpened, battle strategies whispered between allies who knew they might not see each other again.
The long-awaited day had finally arrived.
From the early hours of dawn, the massive army formed ranks. Over the horizon, rows upon rows of soldiers—men and women from every corner of the globe—marched steadily toward the capital, Rimore. Their boots pounded the earth in unison, creating a tremor that echoed like thunder across the land. Above them, airships hovered, casting long shadows over the marching columns, while armored vehicles rolled alongside them, engines rumbling with purpose.
This was not just a battle. It was history in the making.
The world held its breath.
In cities far and wide, in tiny villages and bustling metropolises, people gathered in public squares and around flickering screens. They prayed for their soldiers, for victory, for survival. Some wept quietly, clutching photographs of loved ones. Others stood in silence, lips moving in prayer to whatever god or hope they believed in.
In temples, churches, mosques, and even abandoned shrines, candles were lit, hands were joined, and voices rose together in collective hope. It didn't matter what language they spoke, what faith they followed, or what country they belonged to—on this day, humanity was united in fear and faith.
The battle to come would determine not just the future of one nation, but the fate of the world itself.
In the heart of the march, the recruits who had once trained under Armin now moved with grim determination. Betrayal had forged their resolve. They knew Armin's strength. They had seen it up close. Yet still, they marched—not because they believed it would be easy, but because they believed it was necessary.
They were not just soldiers now. They were symbols of resistance.
And while the world prayed, hoping their children would return, deep within the heart of Rimore, a storm was gathering. Armin waited. Watching. Knowing full well that the greatest war of their era was just hours away.
The ground would soon be soaked in blood. Victory, if it came, would be hard-earned.
But until then, they marched—toward destiny.
In the heart of the capital, beneath the flickering lights of the crumbling city, the tension among the recruits was growing thick. They moved quietly, shadows slipping between buildings as they followed the plan—sneak into the central building under the guise of a drill, wait for Armin to lower his guard, then strike.
But something felt off.
Lira, Kale, and Isame stood beside Rein at the edge of a narrow alley near their rendezvous point, watching the others pass by. Their faces were pale, their eyes uneasy. Lira fidgeted with the straps on her gloves, glancing nervously at Rein, who stood unnaturally still, arms crossed and eyes fixed forward.
The other recruits noticed the hesitation and slowed, one of them stepping forward and asking, "Guys, what's going on? Why are you just standing there? What's bothering you?"
Rein didn't answer at first. His jaw was clenched, and his gaze seemed locked on something far away, deep in thought. Finally, he exhaled slowly and muttered, "I can't go through with this plan… not yet. I'm waiting for someone."
Lira turned sharply toward him, concern flashing in her eyes. "W-who are you waiting for, Rein? What do you mean you refuse? This is our only shot."
The atmosphere grew heavy. Kale narrowed his eyes, his fingers instinctively brushing the hilt of his blade. Isame looked between them, sensing something far worse than cold feet.
Before the silence could stretch any further, footsteps echoed down the alleyway.
Sheath emerged from the shadows, his face calm but alert. He noticed the gathered tension instantly, the stiffness in their postures, the fear in their eyes. "What's going on here?" he asked, his voice steady but concerned. "Why do you all look so tense?"
Rein turned to face him, his expression unreadable.
"He finally came," Rein muttered, almost to himself. Then he looked up directly at Sheath and said with a calm finality, "I'm sorry, Sheath. I have to betray you all. I serve Master Kliner. My orders are to eliminate you."
The words struck like lightning.
For a moment, no one moved. The air froze, hearts dropped, and the weight of betrayal settled hard in everyone's chest.
Sheath took a step back, disbelief flooding his voice. "W-what the hell are you saying, Rein? You're joking, right?"
Lira's face paled. "Rein, what the hell do you mean by that? Why would you want to kill us? We're your team. Your friends."
Kale gritted his teeth and stepped forward. "And why Kliner? Why not Armin? Why follow someone like him?"
Isame clenched his fists. "Did something snap in your head, Rein? Are you even hearing yourself?"
Rein's hand moved slowly toward the hilt of his blade. His expression didn't change—no rage, no fear, no regret. Just a quiet, chilling resolve.
"I've always known where my loyalty lies," he said. "I've waited for the right moment. Now it's here."
Time seemed to slow.
Rein's fingers wrapped around the hilt of his blade—but he never got the chance to draw it.
In a single flash, Sheath surged forward.
His eyes glowed faintly, a residual flicker of the power that had once awakened inside him. With precision and speed born of instinct and desperation, Sheath's blade drove straight into Rein's chest before he could even unsheathe his weapon.
Everyone froze.
Rein dropped to his knees, blood pouring from the wound in his chest where Sheath's blade had pierced him. His breaths came in short, ragged gasps. He looked up, his eyes filled with conflict—not rage, not sorrow, but something fractured and resigned.
"I didn't want this…" he muttered, voice trembling. "But… I have to. Orders are orders."
In a sudden motion, Rein gritted his teeth and gripped the hilt of his blade. Before anyone could react, he lunged forward with surprising strength and slashed at Sheath's leg. The cut was swift and brutal—blood spattered across the stone floor as Sheath stumbled, wincing in pain.
"Sheath!" Lira shouted, reaching for him, but he raised a hand to stop her. His face was strained, but his resolve remained unshaken.
Without missing a beat, Sheath drew his energy dagger—its glow pulsing with a furious light—and, with all the strength he could muster, drove it into Rein's face.
A sickening crack echoed through the alley. The blade cut through skin and bone, leaving a trail of searing light as it carved across Rein's face. Blood poured freely down his jaw, and a gash opened across his eye and cheek, leaving half his face nearly unrecognizable.
But Rein didn't fall.
Staggering backward, he stood once again. His breathing was ragged, but his body, somehow, still moved. His face—a horrific mask of blood, exposed bone, and torn flesh—made several recruits avert their eyes in horror. One turned and vomited. Another dropped to their knees, shaking.
But Sheath stood firm.
He didn't flinch. Didn't hesitate.
With a shout, Sheath drove his heel into Rein's gut. The force of the kick sent Rein crashing into a nearby wall, dust and debris scattering from the impact. But even then, even after all that, Rein dragged himself back up. Shreds of skin hung from his arms. His vision was clouded by blood. Yet he pushed forward like a machine following a command that could not be overridden.
Then came the flash.
Before Rein could fully steady himself, Sheath closed the distance between them with terrifying speed. In an instant, Rein's vision vanished—his eyes slashed cleanly from his face. Before the pain could even register, both of his arms were severed at the shoulders in a blur of motion. He barely had time to gasp before Sheath, in a storm of fury and survival instinct, carved a dozen deep wounds into Rein's chest, back, and legs. Blood sprayed across the alley, painting the walls and ground in crimson.
Rein dropped to his knees again. This time, his movements were sluggish. His body trembled, barely able to hold itself upright. But his voice—cracked, broken, filled with agony—still managed to rise.
"O-orders… are orders…" he whispered. "No matter the cost… I… I have to kill you, Sheath…"
Then, impossibly, he lunged once more—blind, armless, and bleeding from every limb—he rammed his shoulder into Sheath's stomach and began wildly kicking with what little strength remained in his legs.
Sheath stumbled backward, stunned by the sheer willpower—no, the madness—that still drove Rein.
"This isn't human anymore," Kale muttered in disbelief. "He should be dead…"
Isame looked away, unable to watch any longer. "Why… why won't he stop?"
Rein collapsed again, panting like a dying animal, his body twitching with every attempt to move. And yet, even in that state, his voice echoed one last time:
"I… have to… obey…"
Sheath stood over him now, his leg still bleeding, his chest heaving with exhaustion. For a moment, he hesitated. Despite everything Rein had done—despite the betrayal, the violence—there was still the memory of their friendship, their camaraderie, their shared battles.
But Rein was no longer the man they knew. He was a weapon following a final command, blind to reason, deaf to mercy.
"I'm sorry," Sheath whispered.
Then, with one last desperate cry, Sheath raised his energy dagger high, and with a powerful, merciful swing—decapitated Rein.
His head hit the ground with a dull, final thud. The world seemed to fall into silence.
Blood pooled slowly beneath the lifeless body of Rein, its crimson stain spreading like a shadow across the stone. The recruits stood frozen, the reality of what had just happened sinking in like a cold dagger to the heart. A friend—no, a brother in arms—was gone. Not just gone, but killed by one of their own. Killed by Sheath.
Sheath collapsed to his knees beside the body, his chest heaving with every breath. The energy dagger slipped from his bloodied hand, clattering to the ground. He stared at the lifeless shell before him, eyes wide with disbelief and anguish.
"Why…?" he gasped, voice cracking. "Why did I do this? Why did he have to die…? Why did he betray us?"
Tears streamed down his face. His hands trembled as he pressed them against the floor, trying to steady himself, but his body felt too heavy—his soul even heavier. It wasn't supposed to be like this.
Lira slowly approached Rein's head. Her knees gave out beneath her as she knelt beside it, her fingers trembling as they hovered over his blood-soaked hair. Her voice broke with sorrow as she cried, "Rein… why? Why did you betray us? Why did you make us do this…? Why did you have to die like this? So violently… so horribly…"
Her shoulders shook as she wept, and she finally lowered her head, her tears mixing with the blood on the stone. "You should have given up. You should've just stopped…"
Sheath looked up, his face streaked with tears. "I tried… I tried to kill him quickly… so he wouldn't suffer," he whispered. "But he didn't want to die. He fought until the very end. He wouldn't let go."
Then, to their shock, a faint sound escaped Rein's severed head.
A final breath.
A whisper.
"I… I'm sorry… everyone…"
The words hung in the air like a ghost refusing to leave.
Isame turned away, his hand covering his face as he quietly broke down, tears slipping through clenched fingers. His voice trembled as he muttered, "He… he apologized…"
Kale approached Rein's mangled body, falling to his knees beside it. His hands balled into fists as he pounded the ground in helpless frustration. "Damn it… Rein… why didn't you just tell us? Why did you keep it all inside and follow their orders?"
The weight of the moment crushed everyone present.
Even the recruits—some hardened by battle, some still green—stood motionless, their eyes wide with horror. Some cried openly. Others stared blankly, unable to process what they'd just witnessed. The brutality of it. The betrayal. The grief. It was too much.
For a long while, no one spoke. No one moved. The world had narrowed to this single point: Rein's death, and the pain it left behind.
Then Lira broke the silence, her voice barely more than a whisper. "He was our friend… He laughed with us… trained with us… fought beside us…"
"He saved my life once," another recruit muttered from behind them.
"I thought he was the strongest of us," someone else added. "Not just in skill, but in spirit…"
Sheath wiped his face, blood and tears mixing on his hands. "He was strong. That's why he endured so much. That's why… he became someone else."
Kale looked up, his voice hoarse. "No. He didn't become someone else. He was always Rein. That was the problem. He never stopped being the loyal one. Even if it meant dying… even if it meant killing us."
"He wasn't evil," Lira whispered. "Just broken."
Sheath's voice was hollow. "He said it himself… 'Orders are orders.' Even at the end, he believed it. He died clinging to something we couldn't understand."
"He died alone," Isame said, finally turning to face the others again. "And now we have to carry that weight."
The group fell into another silence, the kind that didn't need words. The kind that spoke of grief too deep for speech.
Eventually, one of the older recruits stepped forward. His eyes were red, but his voice steady. "We need to bury him. Not as a traitor. Not as a killer. But as our comrade."
No one disagreed.
Together, they gathered what remained of Rein—his body, his head, his blade—and carried him to a quiet spot behind the ruined chapel where they had once trained together. There, they dug a grave with their hands, the soil cold and stubborn beneath their fingers. Every handful of dirt felt like a piece of their past being buried with him.
When it was done, Lira placed his sword atop the grave. "You should've come back to us," she said quietly. "But I hope, wherever you are now… you're free from their grip."
Sheath knelt by the grave and placed a small stone, carved hastily with Rein's name, into the soil. "I'll never forget you," he said. "Even if the world does."
Kale stood tall, despite the tears still in his eyes. "Let this remind us what we're fighting for. Not just survival. Not just victory. But the hope that no one else has to end up like him."
The others nodded solemnly.
As the sun began to set, casting long shadows over the field, the recruits stood together in silent unity. Rein's death had left a wound—but also a resolve. They would face what came next not just for themselves, but for those they had lost.
For Rein.
For the ones still fighting.
And for the chance to never have to bury another friend again.
Sheath's voice echoed through the ruined camp, raw and thunderous with rage. His fists clenched, his body trembling with emotion.
"Armin!" he shouted into the open air, eyes burning with fury. "I will kill you! No matter what it takes—for what you've done to Rein! For turning him against us! I'll kill you! I'll kill both you and Kliner!"
His screams bounced off the shattered walls, filled with grief and vengeance. The remaining recruits stood nearby, stunned into silence. The pain was still fresh, the blood still drying on their hands and blades. Rein's death had shaken them to the core—but none more than Sheath.
Kale stepped forward cautiously, placing a steadying hand on Sheath's shoulder. "Sheath, listen to me," he said gently. "You need to calm down. If you let rage consume you now, it'll cloud your judgment. You won't be able to fight the way you need to. We still have a battle ahead of us."
Sheath turned, eyes wild with grief. "What do you mean 'calm down'? Our plan already failed! Rein is dead! He was the one leading the second team—our backup, our support. Now he's gone! Don't tell me to be calm, Kale. We lost more than just a teammate… we lost a brother."
Kale didn't flinch. He knew Sheath was speaking from pain, not blame. "I know," he replied quietly. "We all lost him. But don't let his death be in vain. If we let our emotions run wild now, we'll make mistakes. Armin will use that. He's waiting for it. That's how he wins."
Sheath stepped back, breathing heavily. His fists loosened slightly, but the fire in his eyes remained. "Then we have to change the plan. We can't keep pretending we have everything under control. Everything's already falling apart. If we want to win… we have to change how we fight."
Kale raised an eyebrow. "Change the plan? With what time? The battle's already begun. We don't have hours to re-strategize."
"At this point," Sheath growled, "time doesn't matter. What matters is unity. No more splitting into teams. No more waiting for a signal. We hit Armin with everything we've got—together. If Kliner shows up, we take them both down. Head-on."
The recruits behind them exchanged uneasy glances. Lira stepped closer, her voice uncertain. "You're saying… we abandon the two-phase approach? No ambush? No distraction team?"
"Yes," Sheath said firmly. "We don't have the luxury of precision anymore. Rein's betrayal changed everything. If we don't adapt, we die. We need to overwhelm them with force. That's our only shot now."
Kale crossed his arms, thinking. "It's a risky gamble. Armin and Kliner are both monsters in combat. Charging them without a plan could mean total annihilation."
"It's risky, yes," Sheath agreed. "But our current plan already has holes. We built it with Rein in mind—his team was crucial to the distraction. Without that, it falls apart. You know that as well as I do."
Kale sighed, rubbing his temples. "Damn it… I hate that you're right."
Lira looked between the two, then spoke up. "If we do this, we need to be prepared for the worst. No one gets to hesitate. We go all in. One strike. One shot. If we fall apart mid-charge, it's over."
Sheath nodded. "Agreed. This isn't about surviving anymore. This is about ending it. We can't let Armin keep playing with people's minds. We can't let Kliner lurk in the shadows, turning our friends against us."
Isame finally stepped forward, voice quiet but resolute. "Then let's end it. For Rein. For everyone we've lost. We've come too far to back down now."
A heavy silence fell over the group as they absorbed the weight of what they were about to do. No longer was it just a mission. It was personal. They weren't just soldiers anymore—they were survivors fighting for justice, for redemption, and for revenge.
Kale finally broke the silence. "Then it's settled. We strike in full force. Every last one of us. No holding back."
He turned to the recruits behind him, raising his voice so all could hear. "No more split strategies. No more second chances. We move together, fight together, and if we fall—we fall as one!"
A murmur of agreement spread through the group, growing into a roar of unified resolve. The recruits, hardened by loss and fueled by vengeance, rallied behind Sheath's new plan. Their loyalty wasn't to strategy anymore—it was to each other.
Sheath looked out at them, his voice rising. "We've lost too much to play it safe now. We've buried friends, endured betrayals, and watched our world collapse. Now it's time we remind Armin and Kliner that we're still standing. That we are not afraid to strike back!"
Cheers erupted from the recruits. The fear in their eyes had been replaced by fire.
Kale stepped beside Sheath, offering his hand. "Let's finish this."
Sheath took it without hesitation. "Together."
As the sky began to darken over the capital, storm clouds gathering on the horizon, the final battle approached. No one knew how many of them would survive—or if any would—but it no longer mattered. They would fight with everything they had. For Rein. For themselves. For the chance to end the nightmare once and for all.
In the heart of the capital, somewhere behind fortified walls, Armin stood watching the distant shadows gather. A knowing smile crossed his face.
"So," he murmured to himself, "they've abandoned their plan. How predictable."
But even he couldn't deny the shift in the air—the coming storm that even he might not fully understand.
And when it hit, it would shake the world to its core.
The doors to the central building creaked open under the weight of determination. Dust hung in the air as the group of rebels entered the grand hall, their footsteps echoing against the cold marble floor. The towering columns and stained glass windows of the once-glorious chamber now felt like the silent witnesses to an impending tragedy.
At the far end, seated calmly on a luxurious cushion atop a raised platform, was Armin. His posture was relaxed, almost regal, his fingers gently interlaced as he studied the approaching group with piercing eyes. There was no fear in him—only a quiet, unreadable confidence.
The air in the hall grew tense. Everyone—Sheath, Kale, Lira, Isame, and the rest of the recruits—felt the gravity of what they were about to do. They knew that turning back meant eternal subjugation. That if they didn't fight now, they would never break free of Armin's iron grip. Fear lingered in the back of their minds, but so did courage.
Armin greeted them with a low, calm voice. "So… you've finally made your decision. You've chosen to attack me." His expression was neutral, but his voice held a warning. "I'll give you one last chance to walk away. Because most of you—if not all—won't survive. And those who do will still be under my rule. You're not freeing yourselves. You're just delaying it."
Sheath stepped forward, his eyes fierce, his voice burning with rage. "Armin! This time—we will kill you. No more hesitation. This is for Rein!"
Armin's brows lifted slightly. "Rein? What happened to him?"
"Don't act like you don't know!" Sheath barked. "You manipulated him—turned him against us. Because of you, we had to kill our own friend. Our own brother!"
A flicker of confusion crossed Armin's face. For a moment, his composed demeanor slipped. He tilted his head and muttered to himself, "What are they talking about…? I never gave Rein any orders. I never manipulated him."
Sheath's voice cracked with pain and fury. "He said it was Kliner's orders! He betrayed us in your name. You're the reason he died. You made us kill him with our own hands!"
Armin's eyes widened slightly. He whispered again, almost to himself, "They… killed Rein? With their own hands?" He looked down, then to the side. His voice turned cold and uncertain. "Who… Who manipulated him then? It couldn't have been Kliner… he doesn't even know how to control people. And if he did, he would've told me. We made a vow—no killing. No sacrifices."
Sheath didn't care for Armin's confusion. His grief had already cemented his belief. "Enough of your lies! You call this a vow? Look at what you've done! Your twisted system forced our friend to turn on us. Whether it was you or Kliner, someone did this under your shadow. And now he's dead!"
Armin's expression finally darkened. For the first time, a hint of genuine anger crept into his voice. "Kliner…" he muttered. "If what you're saying is true, then someone broke our agreement."
Lira stepped forward, tears still in her eyes. "Rein said he was following orders. That it was Kliner's command. But why would he betray us? Why didn't he tell us the truth? You—you broke him!"
"I didn't want this," Armin said, his tone quiet but heavy. "I didn't want anyone to die."
"Then why build this empire on fear?" Kale snapped. "Why let Kliner run free if he can do things like this? Rein was family. And now he's gone. We don't care about your regrets, Armin. We came here to end you."
Armin stood slowly, his calm beginning to fray. "You think this is so simple?" he said, his voice rising. "Do you think I wanted war? I tried to build a world where no one had to fight, where no one had to follow corrupt leaders. You think I don't care about Rein? If someone used my name to command him, then I've failed. But don't you dare pretend you understand what I carry."
"You call this peace?" Sheath shouted. "What kind of peace manipulates the minds of others? Forces silence? Kills friendships? You're no savior, Armin. You're just another tyrant with a different flag!"
The entire group now stood firm, weapons drawn, eyes locked onto the man who had once seemed invincible. They didn't care about his confusion anymore. They didn't care about who was lying or telling the truth. Rein's death had made everything personal.
Armin looked at each of them—former allies, now enemies. His voice dropped to a near whisper. "If you truly believe that killing me is the only way forward… then so be it."
"Don't worry," Sheath replied. "We do."
A deadly silence followed. Tension choked the air, every heartbeat thudding like a drumroll for the inevitable clash. The grand hall, once a seat of power, was now a battleground waiting for blood to spill.
Kale raised his weapon. Lira took a step forward. Isame steadied his breath. And Sheath, still burning with grief and rage, locked eyes with Armin.
"This is for Rein," he said again, quieter this time—but with far more weight.
And then, without warning, the storm began.