THE LAST KEEPER

Chapter 218. BLOODY

Sagiri exhaled slowly, tightening his grip on Nokai. He could feel the pressure building from every direction, each squad moving with calculated intent. This was a precision execution, designed to leave him with no room for escape. A moment of silence went by after the command before all hell broke loose.

A barrage of suppression bolts tore through the air, forcing Sagiri into motion. He pivoted sharply, Nokai flashing as he deflected one projectile and narrowly avoided another. Before he could recover, the frontline fighters closed the distance, their shields slamming into position as they attempted to pin him in place.

Sagiri stepped forward instead of retreating.

His blade carved a precise arc, slipping through the narrow gap between two shields and forcing the formation to stagger. But the momentary opening was anticipated. From both flanks, stealth operatives surged in, their weapons aimed to exploit the distraction. He twisted, barely avoiding a strike that would have crushed his ribs, and countered with a swift cut that sent one attacker to the ground. Yet even as he moved, the formation adjusted. The Nullifier weapons intensified their hum, and Sagiri felt a subtle resistance against his movements, as if the air itself sought to restrain him.

Even with the intense fight, Sagiri did not miss the pain that suddenly flared in his side, accompanied by the black rot festering pain, and he almost staggered back. They had managed to bruise him even with his fast attacks and defences. Every action demanded perfection. A single misstep would mean capture or death.

The Hammer tightened. They were hellbent on cornering him. That was a fact.

Heavy assault fighters pressed forward, attempting to drive him back toward the containment zone while long-range suppressors continued their relentless fire, herding his movements with terrifying accuracy. Each time Sagiri created an opening, another squad was already in position to close it.

But Sagiri adapted just as quickly. He was a student of the best fighter in Tagayia, or one of the best. There was no way they could corner him. Salka was like a squad of a hundred men by himself, so this was like going against Salka. Time to get more serious.

Sagiri moved with lethal precision, slipping through the smallest gaps, his blade striking only when necessary, each motion calculated to disrupt the formation’s rhythm. Nokai flashed again and again, forcing the Anvil to fracture momentarily before it reassembled with mechanical efficiency. The battle became a deadly dance of strategy, instinct, and discipline against unpredictability, coordination against individual mastery.

A close-quarters fighter lunged a fraction too early. They must have been expecting him to attack them at full force, but Salka was indeed a good teacher. It was a false attack on Sagiri’s side, and when they attacked at full force, he jumped back before attacking again. They expected a false attack again, but only a fool repeats a move twice.

Sagiri seized the moment.

He pivoted, using the attacker’s momentum to break the shield line, and for an instant, the Hammer faltered. The command unit reacted immediately, issuing rapid adjustments to restore the formation, but the brief disruption was enough to shift the tempo of the fight. Steel met armor. Suppression fire scorched the earth. The hum of nullification fields clashed with the sharp whistle of blades cutting through the night air.

Neither side could afford a mistake. Because in this battle, perfection was the only path to survival.

Sagiri, however, must have pushed himself too far and underestimated his madness and the darkness inside of him because as they launched the next attack, he blacked out. It was not in a manner of him taking a backseat in his own body.

He did not remember what followed. There were only fragments, fleeting sensations without context. The cold weight of Nokai moving through the air. The faint resistance of steel to armor. The scent of iron thickened around him. Distant screams that felt disconnected, like echoes from a dream. Then stillness. Distant stillness and silence.

When awareness finally returned, it did so slowly and painfully. His eyes snapped open as if he had been in deep slumber. What just happened? Sagiri inhaled sharply, as though surfacing from deep water. The clearing was unnaturally still. No commands echoed through the place. No weapons were being fired at him. Even the night insects seemed to have fallen silent. The first thing he noticed was the smell.

Blood.

It saturated the air, heavy and metallic. His gaze dropped to the ground. Bodies lay scattered across the clearing, their once-perfect formation reduced to a silent testament of devastation. The Hammer Formation of one hundred and ten operatives of the Seventh Wing had been utterly annihilated. Confusion tightened in his chest.

"What... happened?" he whispered. No one answered. He was not expecting an answer, and it was more like he was thinking loudly. He had a feeling he knew what had happened, but he did not want to acknowledge it. Then he realized that Nokai was still raised. A slight intent to kill still clung to it. The end of one side of the blade was poised at someone’s throat. Sagiri’s breath caught as his eyes followed the blade to its target.

Lira.

She was kneeling, frozen before him, her back slightly arched to avoid the edge pressing against her skin. A thin line of red marked where the blade kissed her neck. Her eyes were wide, with fear, and now it was mixed with something else, a mixture of fear and heartbreaking relief.

"Sagiri," she said softly, careful not to move. "It’s me."

Horror surged through him. His hand trembled as the reality of the situation settled in. He had no memory of raising the blade, killing everyone, and no recollection of turning it toward her.

"I..." His voice faltered. "Did I... do this?" he had planned to kill them all, but somehow it scared him that he did not remember how he did it, and more so, if he could have killed her too, or, far worse, someone closer to him, without knowing in that state. Lira swallowed gently, her gaze flickering briefly to the carnage surrounding them before returning to him.

"You killed them all. They did not stand a chance against that ’you’" she replied, her tone calm despite the tension. Her fear was evident when she said ’that you’ however. The words struck him with devastating weight. Sagiri’s grip weakened, and he slowly pulled Nokai away from her throat, lowering the blade as if it had suddenly become unbearably heavy.

He took a step back, his eyes scanning the clearing once more. The magnitude of the destruction was undeniable. Every operative who had come to capture him now lay motionless, their precision and discipline rendered meaningless.

A tremor ran through him. He was not regretting his actions, but he was not fully proud of them now. He wanted a fair fight to the death, but this did not look like it. Once he blacked out, they did not stand a chance.

Sagiri looked down at Nokai, its surface reflecting his image, distorted by the blood that clung to it. The silence of the forest pressed in around them, heavy with the consequences of what had transpired.

Sagiri looked down at Nokai, its surface reflecting his image distorted by the blood that clung to it. The blood was disappearing slowly. Nokai never carried the memory of its assaults, yet this was taking time to disappear. The silence of the place pressed in around them, heavy with the consequences of what had transpired.

He had survived the Seventh Wing’s assault. Yet he could not remember any of it. Sagiri tried to access the archives’ memories of the incident, but the archive had gone silent. Even the markings on his body had stopped stirring. He could not access the echo archive.

That was not the only thing that was going wrong at the moment.