Troy did not see the squared circle’s formation. He had forgotten about the past when he and his seniors would enjoy watching old tapes of this art form together. To move on into the future, he had to wipe his memories clean and embrace his role.

  I don’t care who died. I don’t care who survived. For as long as I survive, I can rewrite the story. Nothing else matters!

  To honour the memories of the fallen, he must slay the pretender before him in combat. For as long as he lived, nobody from the past who resurfaced to usurp his current standings in the present could take it away from him!

  Nobody.

  No one.

  Not even if his former commander had returned from the dead.

  His reality–the United Atlantea Federation's official narrative–is the only truth!

  “The President believes in me, not you!”

  Troy glitched for a moment before his programming was restored. With blind rage fueled by his innate insensibility, he chose to ignore the authenticity of the pretender, who was his ally in the flesh. The decision to disregard the past for the future became his resolve.

  The past must remain buried in the past.

  If the past decides to challenge the present, attempting to alter the future, then he, Captain Troy Graves, under the command of the President, must ensure this spectre never haunts their path forward.

  “...You haven’t changed one bit.”

  With spiteful toxicity, the Ascended smirked as he watched the uniformed cosplayer dash at him without caring about his surroundings, catching him amid his offensive.

  “Was the whisper of illusionary glory so tempting that you would blindside all of us so you could live in this fake paradise? Was it worth it to sacrifice all of us for your benefit? Those sleepless nights that I’m sure you had. The mental torture from our allies’ lamentations of despair. The nightmare of your selfish decision. Did you ever regret your choice? If you could turn back time again, would you have made this decision—again?”

  Andrew stared down Troy as he grasped his right hand with a vice-like grip. Any further he exerted, he would have crushed his hands.

  “What justifies your decision to “kill me” as you did fourteen years ago?”

  As Troy threw his other fist forward, Andrew caught it smoothly again without exerting the full extent of his abilities. The blood in his veins enabled him to control time with varying applications across his family tree, unexplainable to mainstream science.

  “A futile attempt…as I expected from a fraud unworthy of the rank of Captain!”

  Andrew jumped up, releasing both captured hands, grabbing Troy’s pathetic weasel-like face to make it kiss his knee. The kiss of death dropped Troy to his knees, hanging onto Andrew by the waist like a tree trunk. He then raised his hands to form a prayer of mercy, as though begging for mercy would appease the furious lightning god.

  “...Please, stop. I beg you…”

  Andrew thought he heard wrong.

  “...Stop, please stop.”

  “What did you just say?”

  “Stop.”

  Andrew watched as Troy clasped his hands hard in prayer as though he walked into an ancient temple to pray for blessings. Instead, he was begging for mercy.

  “Ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous. Can you see how pathetic you look? Goodness, if only she provided me with a mirror. That reminds me…What happened to your proud persona earlier? Come on, don’t be shy. Let it out for me to see. Come on.”

  “Please, sir–”

  “What happened to you calling me a phoney?! You called me a pretender.”

  “Please–”

  It was too late. Tensing up, Andrew swung his leg backwards, channelling all the anger he bottled up for years to jab it forward, replicating a move used by wrestlers in Azea, except with force amplified behind it. The knee strike landed with full impact onto Troy’s face. The exhaustion mixed with saliva in his mouth flew into the air, landing beside the grass surrounding them. This time, the blow knocked something pearly white in Troy’s mouth in another direction, never to be seen again.

  Again. And again. The blows kept coming like a freight train. The maddened Ascended repeatedly struck the mortal’s face. This time, he didn’t grab his subject’s waist, watching Troy land on the tip of the fruit punch’s bowl, the final resting place with its natural colours stained by the blood of his fallen recruits. After what seemed like an eternity of hell on earth, a soft whimper left the mouth of the guilty.

  “...Stop. Please s-stop. Mercy. Give me mercy…”

  Standing above his former understudy, with his eyes casting a condescending look downward, the Ascended primed himself to enact justice for his fallen allies, whose chances of escaping their gruesome fate would have been higher if only this coward had followed his orders.

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  The Ascended swiftly used his hands to push the coward onto the crimson grass field, bouncing the coward’s head stiffly like a rag doll, each hit ricocheting with more force and impact, back and forth to eternity. With brutality harnessed through years of close combat experience before joining the Swans, Zeus became the executioner and began raining fists down on the guilty. With each jab of Zeus’s fist, the coward’s scream only heightened in agony. His already bloodied face became more unrecognisable with each punishing motion. Soon enough, even the coward’s scream ceased to exist…

  From the pretender’s brunt force trauma, Troy’s mouth had become disfigured, with several missing teeth punched in or swallowed down his oesophagus. His mind was in a haze from the punishment he received. He continued to absorb punishment with each compounded strike, his subconscious drifting toward a fantasy of dying in combat just like his mentor.

  He thought, how great it would be to have a glorious end on the battlefield.

  How would it turn out in tales told to the Federation’s youths? Even with his life fading into dust, he only cared about his public perception.

  “Sir…Andrew.”

  Andrew knew he was moments away from ripping the soul from this shell of a lesser being. For that, he wanted to hear the coward’s final words before he finished the revenge he had sought for a decade.

  “...Sir, I am a soldier who has fought to the bitter end.”

  The stale wind blew onto Andrew, who looked down on his former understudy with unadulterated shock. His understudy’s words had stunned him, for he did not expect these words to form his final moments.

  “...After all the mess you created? Do you think I can forgive you? Do you think our allies can forgive you for what you’ve done?!”

  Andrew took the rod from his belt, causing it to glow mercilessly–as though it had formed a symbiotic relationship with his raw emotions–to form a white lightning bolt, contrasting the midday sun with a dash of white in an orange-hued master artwork. Soon, this bolt of justice, in the form of a flickering energy blade, would take the life of the man who betrayed their sworn brothers–

  “Say that again, Troy.”

  He needed to hear those last words.

  “...Sir, I am a proud soldier who carried out his duties…” A sick smile painted the face of the delusional commander. “...Today, when I die, the world will remember me as the hero who protected his recruits to his dying breath,” Troy added, believing in his lie until his life faded into the abyss.

  He summoned his last breath of strength, turning to face his recruits who had longed to leave this realm. It didn’t matter the circumstances of their deaths, for he had convinced himself he had done his best. The truth did not matter, for he knew the Federation could change the story to fit their desired narrative.

  “I’ve heard enough.”

  With a swift, surgical-like, precise motion, Andrew guided his energy blade downward with force like a guillotine in freefall. Before it reached the point of no return, a voice suddenly rang in his head like a bell’s chime.

  “We have no right to take another person’s life.”

  “As a soldier, we only take a life to defend others.”

  Andrew stopped himself as the weapon reached the tip of Troy’s throat, the energy frequency burning the coward’s throat to oblivion. Any further he went, this coward would have his head separated from his body, decapitating him immediately. He finally understood living a life of revenge was beneath him. As he slowly came to his senses, a smile hovering between sadness and longing found its way to his revenge-stricken face.

  With profound clarity, Andrew stood up and walked away silently, leaving this pitiful soldier alive. This coward did not deserve the easy way out like the fallen soldiers here today, as the Drazen Empire’s fury would be a thousand times worse than today’s false-flag operation.

  Those who had fallen had received a merciful exit from this cursed reality, for he knew the Empire possessed a military might and a conquering force the Federation could not withstand. The dead did not understand the extent of the Empire’s threat and were lucky to be spared from the Drazen Empire’s all-out offensive.

  Despite all that, he could see right through the dark suits the Federation’s bureaucrats wore. He had long suspected the Federation had an ace up its sleeves. The UAFAF, in its current state, had no fighting chance. Unless–

  His eyes quickly darted northward, remembering the secret hiding in plain sight high up in the North, cordoned off by his former allies from the Swan Contingent–

  And as he did so, a weak voice called out to him.

  “...Why?”

  It was a voice on the brink of Hades’ doorsteps, whose body appeared mangled by a feral wild beast. Andrew felt ashamed of his savagery when vengeance cloaked his judgment. How close he was to losing it…

  “That’s not for me to decide.”

  Andrew’s resounding voice was clear as day.

  “Please end me, sir…”

  “Death is an escape from this realm you do not deserve. A coward like you deserves their judgment day. And like I said, I do not possess the authority to take your life.”

  Andrew walked over to Troy, casting his sapphire eyes downward at him, like a superior being looking down on his subjects. He could feel his throat starting to choke up at the memory of his sworn brother’s sacrifice.

  “Do you know this is how he felt before you abandoned him on that island? Bruised and damaged with nobody coming to his aid? Now you know.”

  Troy finally remembered him: That someone he respected, emulated and formed the core of his fake person during his recruits’ training. He then wondered what his final moments were like.

  Did it hurt?

  Did the terrorists kill him?

  A soldier could fight for victory, but surviving–returning home–is another story.

  Andrew noticed the portal opening up behind him once more. He couldn’t wait to return to the Abyss, for his comrade had successfully finished their second objective.

  “Troy, I’m glad you can remember him. He’s the hero who saved us all. Unfortunately, nobody would know the tale of his heroic deeds and self-sacrifice. After all, this reality…”

  That noble act bought the Federation additional “peace” before they foolishly threw it away.

  “...The United Atlantea Federation is living on borrowed time.”

  Andrew sensed a giant conspiracy looming in the distance upon inspecting the terrorists’ uniforms, for this might be a setup for an outbreak of hostilities. Stepping into the portal, he looked back one last time at his understudy, who had not moved a single inch since then.

  What he did today was a form of duty toward his former homeland, which ironically turned his back on him. As he returned into the void, Andrew recalled his younger brother, who he knew now fought on the opposing side. The day would come when they would reunite under different circumstances.

  “Brother, we will meet again.”