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墨書 Inktalez
The Warrior slowly rose from his chair, each movement feeling unusually heavy, as if the armor he wore pressed down on him more than ever. His gaze swept across the battlefield, landing on the soldiers behind him. The once confident warriors of the Iron Dome now wore expressions filled with confusion and unease. Their eyes flickered between the fallen body of Ezel Moran and the quietly kneeling figure of Bing Lie, as if they could not believe what was unfolding before them.
"This... is impossible..." one soldier finally spoke, his voice trembling with disbelief. Another soldier shook his head, looking down as if trying to deny the reality before him. He gripped his weapon tightly, knuckles turning white, as if it were the only thing that could provide him with a sense of security.
Yet nothing could mask the impact of this defeat. Chaos spread like a tide; some soldiers began to whisper among themselves, their voices laced with palpable fear. A few instinctively took a step back, their feet squelching in the mud with a dull sound. Some even abandoned their facade of calmness entirely, trembling hands clutching at their comrades, the clanking of armor ringing out sharply against the backdrop of falling rain.
"Maintain formation!" a commanding officer shouted, trying to regain control of the situation. His voice was hoarse and urgent, as if attempting to smother the flames of chaos, but his orders seemed swallowed by the sound of rain, barely eliciting any response. Their gazes remained fixed on Ezel's corpse, as if waiting for him to miraculously rise again; yet that once formidable body now lay cold and lifeless.
The Warrior took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling with emotion. His thoughts churned like muddy water on the battlefield—confused and stagnant. He looked up at the drone hovering in the sky, its cold mechanical eye faithfully recording everything. This brought an inexplicable sense of pressure upon him. He knew these images would be transmitted back to the Iron Dome's council without reservation; every detail would become a focal point for internal disputes within Iron Dome. And he, as the commander on the battlefield, could not escape responsibility for this failure.
He lowered his head once more to glance at Bing Lie. The man knelt in the mud, his movements calm and resolute, as if he were the true master of this land. His cloak clung to him as rainwater soaked it further, appearing worn and lonely; yet his presence exuded an aura like that of a mountain—heavy and impossible to ignore. A surge of indescribable emotions welled up within the Warrior—a mix of anger, frustration, and unwillingness—but more than anything, it was a profound sense of powerlessness.
He closed his eyes, forcing himself to calm down. In his mind, he rapidly assessed the current situation: Ezel's death had shattered the soldiers' confidence; coupled with footage from the duel drone as evidence, if he insisted on ordering an assault, it would not only violate battlefield protocols but also bring significant diplomatic losses to Iron Dome. More importantly, it would inevitably shake his standing within Iron Dome itself and might even threaten his position directly.
"Retreat," he finally spoke, his voice low yet unyielding. Those two simple words seemed to drain all his strength but acted like an iron command that instantly quelled the surrounding uproar. All soldiers froze in place, their eyes turning toward him with expressions full of shock and confusion.
"Retreat!" he repeated firmly this time, his tone carrying an undeniable authority. His cold gaze swept over the ranks; all questions and objections were silenced in that moment.
The Warrior turned away, placing his hands behind him as he cast one last look toward Bing Lie. The man remained quietly kneeling in place, rainwater cascading off his cloak as if silently bearing witness to this victory. The Warrior gritted his teeth and forced himself to look away, waving his hand to signal for an organized retreat.
The sound of soldiers' footsteps mingled with the rain as they gradually distanced themselves from the battlefield; yet inside the Warrior’s heart raged like a storm-tossed ocean. He did not know if he had made the right choice, but one thing was clear: this defeat was not an end.
The main force of Iron Dome began its orderly withdrawal; however, there was an unmistakable urgency in their steps. Scattered equipment made dull noises in the mud while what had once been high spirits turned into oppressive silence. Their respirators no longer emitted green smoke; it was as if that symbol of Iron Dome's overwhelming power vanished along with Ezel's fall. The thick fog gradually dissipated under the rain's cleansing touch, revealing a battlefield marked by mud and silence.
The Warrior stood at the back of the formation, his steps steady and his gaze profound. He did not immediately follow the retreating soldiers but paused, staring at the battlefield before him. The rain-washed ground seemed to bear witness to a reversal that should never have occurred. His eyes swept over the bloodstains in the mud, the collapsed Destroyer Mech, and the figure of Bing Lie still kneeling in the distance.
Raindrops struck the Warrior's armor, sliding down the sharp metal edges. He squinted, carefully observing that silhouette—Bing Lie’s posture was as calm as a mountain, as if everything in the world was unrelated to him. This inheritor of Kong Si had not only defeated Terminator Ezel Moran but had also shattered the morale of the entire Iron Dome unit. A faint smile crept onto the Warrior's lips as he let out a soft chuckle.
"It’s been a long time since something this interesting happened," he murmured to himself, his voice drowned out by the rain, heard only by him. This unexpected defeat surprised him not just because of the loss itself but also because of the person before him—Bing Lie. He couldn’t help but feel curious about where this solitary warrior would head next. What was his goal? How far could the spirit of Kong Si reach?
The Warrior shook his head slightly and looked up at the gray sky, raindrops hitting his face as if punctuating his earlier thoughts. He took a deep breath and shifted his gaze back to Bing Lie. He knew that this person, with both his strength and will, would become a significant variable, perhaps even a hidden threat to Iron Dome.
Raising his voice slightly, he called out to the empty battlefield, "You know… doing this will bring you a lot of trouble, right?" His tone carried a hint of jest but was laced with more than just playful provocation; it bore an underlying warning.
The sound of rain poured down relentlessly, yet Bing Lie remained kneeling in place, seemingly oblivious or entirely indifferent.
After standing for a moment longer, the Warrior finally turned and strode forward with steady steps to rejoin the retreating troops. The rain concealed his footprints behind him, but his thoughts lingered on that open space where the quietly kneeling figure was deeply etched into his memory.
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