Olimpia

The legionaries' reaction was instant. As soon as the command was thought, they started shuffling inward instead of back. And yet, the order came too late. While the center of the hoard of goblins had charged forward, and the edges slowed in anticipation of an easy victory, the fighting allowed them to catch up. Now, the sides of the goblin hoard had more than made up the lost ground as the center became backed up and congested, and they were moments from enveloping the flanks of the human formation.

When a unit was moving together, it was basic knowledge that if you made a turn, those at the edges of the formation would have to move faster than those on the inner section if you wanted the ranks to remain uniform. The outer corners of the humans' arrowhead were desperately fighting to keep the goblins out of the center of the formation against increasingly large numbers. As if that wasn't enough, they suddenly had to completely reverse direction and all but sprint to maintain their place in the shield wall.

The unanticipated burden was too much, and the men began to falter. As they lashed out around them with their swords and shields to keep the goblins back, their steps slowed, increasing the distance between them and the rest of the group. It was a vicious spiral with no escape.

Kathren felt their spike of desperation, how they were beset on three sides as they struggled to rejoin the rest of the legionaries. She could feel the anguish of the men who were standing next to them a second before, suddenly becoming unable to offer support to their isolated brothers, for providing it would mean sentencing the rest of them to death as well.

In the end, it came down to a simple question. What would result in the least loss of life? The legionaries had to close the circle, and those who could not reach the perimeter would have to be left behind.

When she felt the sudden disappearance of three minds in quick succession from the Union, it was as if someone had ripped off a part of her soul. Kathren had experienced the feeling many times but had never gotten used to it. It was like a numb, but still present, limb was removed.

Kathren couldn't help probing the mental wounds with her mind, and every time, it was like jabbing needles into her heart. Because the feeling corresponded to the death of a legionary.

She didn't know them. Even as she spent the last days fighting alongside them, Kathren hadn't spoken more than a few dozen words to any individual legionary besides Centurion Borment. Then again, she didn't need to know their specific stories.

Within the decade and change she spent in the legion, she had heard what would be nearly identical tales plenty of times. There's usually someone left behind and who they want to return to. It could be they are running from something or maybe even chasing glory as they seek to prove themselves. However, whether they came from a prominent merchant family in a major city or were the child of the village drunk in bum-fuck-nowhere, it didn't really matter. They came here to serve, and that service claimed their lives.

But not her.

No matter how closely Kathren danced to death, it never claimed her. She wasn't the one who froze in winter, died of fever, or was cut down in combat. And she definitely never happened to be in a position where she was sacrificed for the survival of the majority.

Time after time, she was always one of the ones who could walk away. And if she was honest… how it ate at her. There had been a constant guilt that she could feel weighing down her shoulders like a cloak since she was a child. It affected her choices and drove her to make something of herself rather than wasting away in the slums. Because she knew, even as a young child, that if she stayed, she would watch everything around her, including her body, decay and collapse with every passing year.

It was one of the main reasons she became a scout and, before that, why she joined the legion and stayed inside the death machine. Kathren would not— could not, take any action that intentionally got herself killed; that would be an injustice to all who died in her place. But performing one's duty in the legion could not be done without risk.

And yet, with all of that said… Kathren wouldn't be anywhere else. She loved fighting. The hot blood pelting and running down her face like the tears she could never shed. The heat of flesh and thundering of hearts as two sides clashed together, a broad smile perpetually stretching her face.

It wasn't the killing or death that sent a thrill of exhilaration through her, but the struggle with life in the balance.

Kathren could look upon her past and see, in a moment of clarity, that she sought out challenges. The greater the odds against her, the better. Because either outcome was acceptable to her. Death would finally claim her, or she would overcome the odds while dancing across the razor's edge once more.

This time, however, the scales were just weighted against her too much… and she couldn't see a way out. And that was okay with her. She had lived a far better life than anyone would have expected her to.

That didn't mean she would give up. No, Kathren still fought, standing firm in a ring with six humans around the man in their center, cutting down goblin after goblin. Even the wounded man was contributing, as he used his left arm to lash out with attacks between their legs.

Blood flowed, and the bodies mounted. Every one of her breaths was taken as if she was a woman suffocating. And still, she pressed on, striking out with her spikes and sword. Yet for every one she struck, another two were pushing their way forward.

The creatures hooted and barked as they lunged at Kathren and the others, but it was the probing tests of a predator wearing out its prey before going in for the kill. Every lung needed to be met with a swing or casting of psy, or their opponent might just commit to the attack and catch them off guard.

Short though the battle might have been, the toll it was taking on them was overwhelming. Her sword felt like it had a large bag of grain attached to the tip, and her right arm was so numb and tingly that it could give her left arm a run for its money. And with all the hopping around, her left knee throbbed like her heart and felt like a wind could make it give out. But that was far from the worst of it.

No, what made it all hopeless was that their psy was almost depleted, and the Union's existence was numbered in seconds. Their collective willpower to resist the corrosive atmosphere was not being replaced, as everyone needed most of it to keep their bodies moving. Whatever psy reserves they had left was quickly vanishing as everyone used it liberally to enhance their blows and block attacks that would have otherwise landed.

With the only resource keeping them alive suddenly becoming very scarce, they all could see the near future. It didn't help that everyone within the mental network knew that the Union was the only thing preventing them from being overwhelmed. And that wasn't even mentioning how hard it was to continuously dredge up the willpower to keep fighting when the people facing the direction help was supposed to come from kept providing clear images of the rescue team struggling to make progress. I guess fighting against these short fucks can be a curse as much as a boon.

You shouldn't think in battle, but there were moments when you could look around, where everything became crystal clear, and you could feel the pulse of a fight. And this fight was over. All that was left was a death rattle where they were going to determine how many they could take with them… At the realization, the deranged twisting of Kathren's lips shifted into a contented smile.

Chest heaving as she tried to quench the fire burning inside her, Kathren leaned her body onto the hilt of her sword. With her weight behind it, the tip of her blade sank into the goblin's chest at her knees as the creature flayed its hands in a futile attempt to stop the steel's descent. At the same time, Kathren was warding off the other goblins with her remaining spike. The other spike was somewhere around her feet, but she didn't have the psy to pick it back up even if she found it.

Twisting her blade and exhaling in a shout of effort, Kathren drove her sword through the creature and into the one below. Pulling back and planting her foot on the latest body to join the mound before her, she sucked in a breath as she pulled on her sword, only for the twinges of pain she had been ignoring to become a knife of pain, causing her leg to give out.

Not willing to fall onto her back or side, Kathren crashed onto her bad knee, sending a spike of agony up her body to the base of her skull. The pain seemed to gather in the back of her mind as it attempted to consume Kathren's vision with dark tendrils.

With a snarl, Kathren willed the tendrils back, somewhat surprised to find that she kept a firm grip on her gladius, and the fall even helped pull the blade free of the body to boot. For whatever good the weapon would do her, as all she could do with it at the moment was wave the steel strip around like a fan. If only the goblins were composed of their stench, then it would be possible for me to dispel them if I moved the weapon fast enough… A pity.

Then again, while her sword wasn't much of a threat, her spike was. At least it was enough of one that the goblins were still hesitant to be the first to leap forward. Or maybe it was the steady dripping of blood falling off the steel cone that was keeping them back. Either way, it was giving her the time to recover.

Kathren felt a flair of amusement. Suddenly, from her perspective, it was like the tip of her blade was the end of a fishing rod, and the spike was a lure ready to catch the first thing to move forward. The moment stretched, and Kathren reached for the strength to pop to her feet, only to realize she was scraping the bottom of the barrel.

That wasn't to say she was about to collapse from exhaustion, but she was finding it hard to draw out the last bit of strength inside of her. Sure, this mission could still make a difference in the battle the 15th Legion was fighting, whether they knew of it or not. But would holding out a bit longer really matter?

Turning her attention to the mental network, it was like Kathren had stepped into the sunlight after climbing out of a cave. Redgenald's mind was a beacon of light. His confidence in their success was unwavering, and his steely determination pushed them to keep fighting — to not give up.

As she probed for the reason, she felt a burst of information. She had to stand firm for at most a minute, as the mission would soon be a success. Redgenald was gathering and focusing his psy, and he almost had enough to release a pulse message that would blast past the interference and make it to Centurion Borment. So long as he and any legionaries in the way had a brain, they would know what to do next.

I still got a bit more, Kathren decided, forcing herself to her feet. The movement didn't really work out, as she ended up on a foot and some toes, unwilling to put much weight down on her left leg. As she stood up, she felt an alarming rolling pop in her leg and even let out a squeaking moan — that she was glad no one heard — in anticipation of pain that never came. Kathren could put her leg down. However, and this was important, she really didn't want to risk it. While she balanced on one and a half legs, she bent her elbow and raised her probably dislocated shoulder as far as she could before moving her head halfway to rub her brow, smearing her blood-stained fingers across her skin.

"That's why I hate helmets," Kathren said conversationally to no one. "You can never scratch an itch properly without taking it off. Such a hassle."

To her utter surprise, a large goblin with a slightly lighter shade of skin replied in a horse rasp, "Then let me take your head. Never have problem again." Before Kathren could respond, the goblin chuckled wetly while showing off its fangs, its eyes gleaming with malicious intellect.

Forcing her arm to be steady, Kathren flashed her teeth at the creature as she said. "Bring it Bitch." Then, she waited for the goblin to attack, her sword and spike raised to launch a retaliation. Before either of them could move, a strong wind blasted into Kathren’s back, shredding her tether to the union and shoving her forward to collapse onto the pile of dead.

The world spun around her, and it was like a blacksmith had taken it upon himself to beat her head with his largest hammer. Or maybe she downed a few wine barrels without knowing it, and the bill was finally coming due. Which would really suck, as paying the price of an alcohol-fueled night without remembering it sounded like one of the greatest miscarriages of justice she had ever heard of.

Groaning, she tried to push herself up with the use of the warm and sticky bodies beneath her but only managed to flop onto her side and look up into the dark cavern. It was some combination of her left arm giving out and the bodies shifting, but her attempt to get up failed. And now she was feeling… empty. Like it was better for her to just lay here and—

Redgenald appeared above her, and she thought she saw his eyes soft and filled with concern for a moment, but as soon as his eyes flicked up and locked eyes with her, the emotion vanished like it was all her imagination. In its place, beneath the blood running down his face from his eyes and nose, there was only fury. He stiffly reached down, grabbing Kathren's collar and arm. Turning and partially lifting Kathren from her position, Redgenald let go of her arm before rearing back and slapping her across the cheek.

Head rocking to the side, Kathren stared down the trench for a moment before the hit registered, and she turned to look at the bastard. As her head was still turning, she saw the blur from the side as his hand returned, striking her other cheek with the back of his hand, jerking her head all the way to the side.

Cheeks burning, he dropped her back onto the bodies, a tinge of disgust on his face as he looked down at her, "Get the fuck up and start moving to the next pillar. Or are you so desperate for death that you're just going to lay there and let them kill you?"

Before he had finished speaking, he was turning to kick and shout at the other legionaries as he quickly shuffled around their little perimeter. Once everyone was stirring and groaning, he bent down and hoisted the wounded man over his shoulders, never even looking back at Kathren once to see if she was getting to her feet. It was as if her decision to get up or not truly didn't matter to him anymore.