| abstract | - He was out of breath. Shinsu looked up at the sky, stained grey from the morning fog’s union with the smoke rising up from fires that raged as far as the eye could see. Where were Gin and his Banshees? he found himself wondering. Hij and the others should have broken through by now, should have at least made an opening to escape through. But gazing across the barren field, he saw only the bright colors of the enemy warriors regrouping from their last attack. That was the third time they’d been beaten back, and it wouldn’t be long before they brought in a Wraith or a Phantom to finish things off from afar. Beside him, Zura knelt with his back against one of the battered walls that had once supported a cottage’s roof. Now the dwelling lay in shambles around them, torn to pieces by sustained plasma fire and grenade blasts. Amidst the rubble lay the bodies of their friends, the ones who had fallen back with them to this shattered refuge. There were three of them, all clad in the dark, battered armor of the Blades. But they weren’t the only dead. More than twice that number of enemy dead were scattered across the cottage, and even more lay in bright heaps against the ground beyond the remaining walls. He and Zura had avenged their fallen brothers ten-fold. But it wasn’t enough. Shinsu gritted his mandibles. It would never be enough. Out beyond the cottage and its perimeter of corpses, the enemy was regrouping. Peering out at the top of a sloping hill, Shinsu could see over two files worth of warriors assembling for another attack. The glowing tips of their plasma rifles glowed bright on the dark battlefield, and he was certain that at least two of the red and gray armored major domos bore energy swords. “Zura,” he said, his heaving chest preventing him from calling out. “What’s happening on your side?” “I see a file of warriors off in the trees. Seven at least, probably more.” Zura’s voice was tight, and Shinsu knew it wasn’t just the fatigue that was getting to him. “Ours or theirs?” A foolish question, but he couldn’t keep himself from asking it. “Who do you think?” Zura retorted. “They have us surrounded now. They’ll coordinate this time, hit us from both sides at once.” “At least they haven’t brought in the armor yet,” Shinsu replied, hefting his own plasma rifle. “Hij and the others must be running them wild out there.” They were brave words, but inwardly he was cursing himself for his stupidity. They should have run after the first attack, when they’d had the chance. They should never have let themselves get cornered like this, trapped by foes that simply would not relent no matter how many warriors he and Zura brought down. Whoever was directing the files out there could never justify letting two lone country militia warriors get away, not after having lost so many warriors already. Such a failure would disgrace that commander and all the warriors under his command. It wouldn’t be long now before they managed to free up some vehicles, and then the game would be up. We can’t stay here, Shinsu realized with a jolt of frustration. We can’t hold them forever. He and Zura were two of the best the Sons had to offer, but by themselves they could be worn out and overwhelmed. They were already worn out, and damn well close to being overwhelmed as well. Zura pulled himself up. "Here they come," he panted, and Shinsu whirled to see a file of warriors sprinting towards them out of the treeline. He turned to inspect the hill, only to see that the warriors there remained where they were. "Keep your head down," he told Zura. "They might have snipers on my side." Zura simply remained where he was, raising his long-barrelled carbine and opening fire. Shinsu shot a last glance at the looming warriors on the hill before darting over to his friend's side and cutting loose with his plasma rifle. The advancing warriors wove and dodged their way across the open field, firing plasma rifles and carbines as they came. Shinsu ducked down to avoid their shots and readied his energy sword. They'd be upon them in moments, and then he'd deal with them like he had the others: at close quarters. Zura ducked under cover as well, his carbine's clip spent, and Shinsu popped up over the wall and found himself face to face with one of the sword-wielding major domos. Without a moment's hesitation, he slashed a gaping cut into the surprised officer's chest, sending a gout of purple blood splashing across his energy shields. The others froze for as their leader collapsed, and Shinsu could practically feel their eyes as they scanned him, could practically feel their fear as they saw the looted special operations armor, the battered surface, the darkened coloring... The last attackers had done exactly the same thing before they'd died. "It's the Black Knight!" one of the warriors howled. "The Black Knight!" Shinsu vaulted over the wall just as the second major stepped in with his own sword. Shinsu simply sidestepped the major's clumsy strike and cut him down in a single blow. Then Zura came up with his carbine again and Shinsu forgot about everything except the battle at hand. There was nothing in his universe except himself, his blade, and the enemies before him. The background faded away, and Shinsu's eyes narrowed as instinct and training took over from reason. Plasma bolts hummed by, pouring in from all sides, and yet he spun and twisted through them all. Enemy after enemy came hurtling in towards his blade, and he cut them down as quickly as they came. Then he was aware that there weren't any warriors left to kill; their corpses were at his feet and he was panting again, the pain in his chest now worse than ever. "Another wave down," he wheezed over to Zura. "Just a little longer. Hold out just a little longer!" But Zura didn't answer. Shinsu whirled to find him facing the hill again, and he immediately saw why. The warriors on the hill hadn't used the woodland attack to come at them, but their size had doubled since the last attack had began. A trio of Ghosts were spread out amongst nearly two dozen warriors, all bearing plasma rifles and repeaters. "Oh," Shinsu whispered, his fatigue finally getting the better of him. He fell to his knees as the sounds of even more warriors drifted through the forest behind him. They really were going to die here. Shinsu stared across the corpse strewn battlefield. Bodies were everywhere, all broken and lifeless as their purple blood stained the barren ground. In a few moments, he and Zura would join them. Zura slowly loaded another clip into his carbine. "Well, Shinsu," he gasped, staring up at the crowd of warriors. "It seems this is the end." Shinsu remained where he was, the hilt of his energy sword locked in a death-grip. "At least we'll die beautifully," Zura said, but his voice was shaking. On the hill, the warriors were getting ready to attack. Someone was holding them back, perhaps waiting for even more reinforcements. "Like heroes." Shinsu's head snapped up, a fire suddenly lit in his weary stomach. That was right. Thel 'Vadam wasn't dead yet. The Vadam keep was still standing. And he knew he wouldn't die just then. He couldn't. "Zura," he said, slowly rising to his feet. His aching body howled in protest, but he ignored it. "Don't talk nonsense." He still had his sword, and the enemy was in front of him. It was that simple. Zura turned to stare at him. "You die all the beautiful deaths you want," Shinsu continued. He raised his energy sword and pointed it at the assembled enemy. "I'm going to cut my way out of here." Zura tossed the carbine away. For a moment, Shinsu thought he was going to wait for the enemy to kill him, but instead his friend drew his own energy sword. "There's a lot of them," Zura said, his fear replaced by a sort of comical dubiousness. "So there are." Shinsu stepped forward, passing through the cottage's wreckage and into the open. "But I am the Black Knight, remember?" He tensed, his body preparing for battle once again. "Nothing gets in my way, Zura. Do you really think these cowards are enough bring me down?" Instead of answering, Zura moved to stand beside him. In unison, they raised their blades and and glared up at their enemies. Shinsu clenched his mandibles. There was no fear because there was nothing to be afraid of. These hesitant cowards lacked the nerve or the resolve to kill them. "Let's go, Zura." Without waiting for a reply, he leapt forwards and charged out of the ruins and up the hill. The pain faded away along with the rest of the battlefield. He was alone, save for the enemy and the burden of the solemn oath that echoed throughout his very being with ever step he took. He sidestepped the first surprised barrage of plasma fire that greeted his attack. Zura was beside him, struggling to keep pace with his wild pace. They moved in tandem, dodging the brunt of the fire and letting the rest splash across their shields. Two Ghosts soared towards them from both directions, trying to drive them apart. Zura lit a plasma grenade and hurled it at the driver's canopy of the closest, where it affixed itself to the attacker's hull. Shinsu simply let his feet become one with the oncoming front of the other, dancing nimbly up and over the charging vehicle. His blade flashed once and the driver's head slipped heavily from his body. The first Ghost detonated moments later. He landed and rolled, and when he came up he was in the midst of the startled warriors. They fumbled for their own blades, but he was already slashing through them, going for a bared neck here, an exposed chest there. He saw it all through the fog of his own inner calm. There was nothing these cowards could do to hurt him; this was barely a challenge. A sudden burst of plasma fire cut down the three warriors in front of him, and suddenly a flash of purple came barreling into two more. Zura had manned the Ghost of the warrior Shinsu had decapitated, and was now weaving it through the enemy ranks with far more skill than its previous wielder had possessed. He called out to Shinsu, but his cry was lost amidst the peaceful whirlwind of battle. Shinsu bared his teeth and plunged into the next wave of enemies.
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