Red, Unforgiving Blood

All of us soldiers are the same, unique traits and personalities rendered irrelevant in the face of war. Every step, every turn, was freakishly accurate. Because that’s what we were trained to do. 

A coven of witches surrounded me. They all had glaring red eyes out to murder, to blast holes through my chest with their little spells, to make sure I never got back up again. There was only one thing left to do.

“Mmph! Mmphhhh!” I screamed, voice muffled down. 

I faded in and out of consciousness, cold sweat trickling down my spine. Their scalpels and blades tore through my skin, inserting shards of metal, a pain that burned away at my sanity. My fingernails dug into my palm, bands holding me down, while a headache roared in my head. I think, maybe, hell would’ve been a better option. I desperately searched around. But there was nowhere to hide.   

Just me and my terrors. 

Yes, I had said at barely sixteen. Yes, I would sign away my humanity. Yes, I would subject myself to endless hours of cutting  and tearing my flesh in a metal room. But it still hurt. Still felt like every ragged breath would be my last. 

And then I saw it. My severed arm was dangling on top of me, blood dripping down on my nose. That can’t be mine… right? I craned my neck to the side. 

But there was nothing there. Nothing there.

I doubled over, panting, reaching for breath. The beads of sweat rolled down my neck, my clothes drenched. Only a dream, only a dream, I repeated. But that sight was permanently seared into my head, never to be forgotten. 

I lived in Cylendis, a nation of technology. Machinery was the only weapon us humans had against the witches, against Yuraya. That’s precisely what I was, a weapon. Although some preferred a different term. Even so, I would keep on pushing. Even when the days in that cold, metal room still lingered behind, even when my own people stared in disgust, even when the sight of my bloodied hands plagued those restless nights, I would keep on pushing. I stared up at the blank ceiling of my tiny quarters outside the town of Ira again. It was the same every night, all posts starting to look the same, a never-ending cycle. 

More status, more money. Nothing else mattered. 

The rain outside splattered against the overhang.

Drip. Drop. Drip. Dr-

BAM!

The door blasted down as I sprang up on my feet. 

“Who’s there?”

I positioned my left arm up, one of the many guns implanted into my body, and let the first shots fire. 

A masked figure emerged from the smoke, waves of ice colliding with my bullets, gas steaming up the room. I took advantage of the cover and closed the distance between us, sending a jab to the stomach. Their hood slipped down, revealing fiery eyes scrunched in a frustrated expression.  She attempted to wipe out my legs from under, dropping to the floor and sweeping her leg, but I retreated backwards in time.

Just as I was about to lunge again, my foot caught on the ice, sending me tumbling to the floor, moonlight reflecting off the hardwood.

Get up, Parin. Get up. Except it was too late. I was now pinned down with no way to escape. She held her staff up, ready to finish the job. 

But, I couldn’t afford to die now. What would happen to my three helpless siblings back home? They would starve, parentless, victims of this war. Who was going to take my place? Who was going to provide money for our pitiful excuse for home, for the measly pieces of corn? I couldn’t wish that kind of pain on anyone else. The thought of Faylin and Falcon, or little Aisha, tied down in that room was too much for me to bear. 

That’s right. I had to win this battle and all the future ones. I had to earn more money to send back, to see their happy faces at the dinner table, feasting. 

I opened my mouth, a pistol rising from my throat, covered in saliva. I watched as the triumphant eyes in front of me abruptly lost their shine, dread taking its place. 

“Please-” the voice helplessly begged.

But I set off the trigger anyway, a sharp beam of light piercing out.

And her head was no longer there. No longer attached to the rest of her body. She was an ice-wielder. I’ll remember that, just like how I recall all the others who came before. It was as if the simple action would magically erase away my guilt. 

Picking myself up, I headed over to all the commotion, cautious of every step. There was screaming. There was crying. There was pleading. I didn’t know whether to barge in head first or run without looking back. 

I creaked open the door, as if a child witnessing their parents fighting, just in time to see my last comrade thump to the ground, lifeless. It’s okay. Everything’s okay. Absolutely nothing is okay. Why were they all taking a nap on the floor? Why weren’t they waking up? I knew that most chose not to go through the procedure. They remained human. I knew that. So why was I still in denial?

A coven of witches surrounded me. They all had glaring red eyes out to murder, to blast holes through my chest with their little spells, to make sure I never got back up again. There was only one thing left to do. Still grief-stricken, I quickly cranked open the compartment on my forearm and triggered the tiny switch inside, setting off the bomb from within my stomach. 

Don’t worry. I’ll avenge you. 

Light erupted and flashed the whole place, blinding everyone in its path.

“S-She’s self detonating!”  The orange-haired one yelled, as if she didn’t believe it herself. 

They must think I was insane. Trust me, I already know it.

I saw their faces one last time. Some stood there too shocked to move while others collapsed in despair. But the one thing in common were those eyes. I knew that look all too well. It was like we’re all the same before meeting Death. Just a moment. 

The bomb created a loud BOOM, blowing up the building and those inside to smithereens. Rising out of ashes and smoke, fire sizzled through my body, Pain once again paying a visit. I walked against the wall for support. The parts that remained were mostly synthetic. I brought my now purely metal hand to my artificial cheek, touching the cold surface, a reminder of what I am, and then limped back to the lab. 

“My goodness, Parin. What happened to you?” Ikada gasped. He was one of the many guards stationed. 

I guess he got used to me coming so often.

“Oh, just the usual. Detonated some buildings.”

He half choked, half sighed and motioned me inside. 

The room was dimly-lit, the scent of chemicals in the air. I was here again. They stuffed me in this tight space with dark liquid and plugged all sorts of chords into my body. This wasn’t the first time I had to be fixed. They whispered and jotted down notes, as if I was a subject for experimenting. Maybe I was. Soon, my flesh started regenerating, a tingling sensation. I don’t know how many days it’s been, just that it wasn’t enough for proper rest. Because the faster they healed me, the faster I could go out and kill again. I would dirty my hands in desperation while the nobles idly sat in mansions, sipping tea in the safety built on my blood. Just a little better. Just a slightly less creaky door, a barely thicker blanket for winter. That was all I needed to keep on going, all that has kept me going for the past two years.    

It was my drug.

I stopped by a mirror after getting discharged. I knew I shouldn’t have. I should have shut my eyes and walked away. My glistening, navy hair had faded into white due to all the stress and rewiring. I took a strand in my fingers and wanted to yank it out. My pitch black eyes were more dull than ever, I no longer remember how they used to be. It was too long ago. My cheekbones were hollow, face far too pale for a person. There was also the matter of my left arm. I used to braid my sisters’ hair with these hands, but now one of them couldn’t even be called a hand. It was two rotating barrels armed with bullets and the largest gun in the center, screws and bolts all over the place. It was heavy. Heavy like the burden of people I've killed. This is exactly why I avoided mirrors. They reminded me of things I didn’t want to admit. 

I think… there was once a time where I looked into the mirror and happily bounced away. 

“Parin, you look so much like your father.”

He walked in right on cue, “Actually, I think you look more like your mother.”

Then we were supposed to laugh in the living room while the twins came in. There were many more things we were supposed to do. 

But my parents were both gone. 

I sauntered outside, the sunlight blinding me. 

I was once a sweet, quiet girl too. My hobbies included baking and reading whatever books I could scavenge. Parin was the perfect name to describe me. But that was Before. Before my parents were murdered by witches and the four of us couldn't handle rent, forced into the streets. It’s okay, I had said. It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay, I had repeated, as if that would make everything truly okay. 

I met up with a different squad every time, because there were never enough people left. Never enough survivors. But this one was different. This one had people like me. As I headed towards the checkpoint, it became apparent. Some had metal eyes, some iron fists, some completely cyborg, some criminals trying to reduce their sentence. I knew better, but some part of me hoped this wasn’t going to be like the last time. 

“MY NAME IS MAKA. NICE TO MEET YOU.”

She fiercely saluted, upper lip slighting pouting. 

“Nice to meet you too?” I replied, completely overwhelmed. I didn’t even notice her walk up. 

“I LIKE SALMON. HOW ABOUT YOU.”

“I like salmon too,” the lie escaped from my mouth. I actually hated it, the texture, smell, everything, but that wasn’t important. 

Her hair was cut just above the chin, a color of bright orange with bold bangs, purple eyes peeking out from under. I thought she looked pretty vibrant, but that wasn’t important either. After all, I’m not here to make friends. 

I attempted a slight smile, but it came out unnatural with all the wrong lines. 

The scenery gradually shifted from the peaceful town of Ira to rough, rocky paths and looming mountains. All of us soldiers are the same, unique traits and personalities rendered irrelevant in the face of war. Every step, every turn, was freakishly accurate. Because that’s what we were trained to do. 

Fort Torre came into view, standing atop a hill, as if mocking those below. It was Yuraya’s most important corner of defense. Today, we’re going to find out if this is a squad made of scientifically modified elites or a gang of incoherent misfits. 

The sun broke away to let the moon shine. There was even more trudging on the uneven dirt, slopes and fallen trunks scattered all over the place. I wish I could fly,  easily soaring through the sky. But I was stuck down here, left to battle the boulders and branches. 

Crack!

“Who’s over there?!?”

We all froze in our tracks, nobody daring to move a single inch. Our horrified, bulging eyes met each other, everyone anticipating the next move. 

I pressed my body to the dirt floor painfully slow, praying she’ll pass over us in the dead of night. My fingers curled into the ground, eyes peeking out.

Step. Step. Step.

She drew closer and closer, until I could hear her breathing. Deep breath through the nose, and… I leapt up behind her back, one hand locking the neck and the other covering the mouth before she had the chance to scream. I knocked her out with no time to waste, before securing her with rope to a nearby tree. 

Quick.

Silent.

Deadly.

We crept up the hill, guards swarming around. 

“ATTACK!”

And the first few were already dead. 

I cranked the level up to max, the bullets pounding into their flesh. Gunshots fired all around me while the sound of crying agony resounded, plaguing my eardrums. 

Time stopped for a second, as I looked up into the sky, the realization of a lighting strike dawning upon me. The silhouette of a witch hung over. The coven leader. She was the epitome of pride, mockery, and, most of all, power. The blue streaks crackled within the clouds, light flickering at irregular timing. And down it went. 

I jumped to the side, body hurdling into the rocks to get away. Fire erupted, smoke covering the entire hill. 

Our two clean lines broke into pure chaos. The second I got back up, light arrows were lunging for my eyes. I narrowly blocked them with my arm, pinpointing the attacker. Punching them in the face, I braced for the next one as their head rolled back. 

The blue lightning struck again, more and more allies going down. I spotted Arielle in position behind the bushes, her silver, eagle eyes locked on their leader. Our introductions had been short, but there was no doubt her aim would land true. Because we had double the skill, double the technology, and double the need to win. Just a little more stalling. A little more time. 

A hand hooked on to my ankles, yanking me down. I flipped over, unsheathing my dagger from its pocket, and thrusted right for the throat. 

And when I faced up to see that stream of orange light fly across the sky, I knew we had won. 

There were many battles after that, victories and losses alike. I shut the eyes of countless fallen comrades, my fingers gliding across their faces. You don’t have to look anymore. 

When was this war finally going to end? When could I finally go back home and get a proper job that didn’t involve all the blood, grief, and scarring?

I leaned against a tree, gazing at the landscape under its shade. Maka was sitting on a rock by the river, munching on a freshly roasted fish. Arielle kneeled beside her, carefully wiping down her sniper rifle. I wanted to clutch this scene tight and never let go. But in the end, I knew going solo was the fastest way to money. And so, I returned to my solitude. 

Every check, every kill tore away another piece of my humanity. I alone took down more witches than any other, rising up the ranks. Until one day, it was finally over.

For the first time ever, I held up a fist and cheered. 

The two generals were discussing conditions for a treaty while the rest of us waited. I impatiently stood there, my foot anxiously tapping against the floor.

“Parin, we have a mission for you.”

“But, isn’t the war over?”

“Well, you see… Yuraya is planning a surprise ambush. One of our spies barely made it back to report the news. After all, they did lose the final battle and now would be the perfect time to claim a clear victory. They would rule over all the land. That’s why we have to send our most powerful soldier to stop this.”

So, it still hadn’t ended. Even after so many lives, there was still more to be taken. But afterwards, I could finally go home to my family. Just one more fight.

“This way.”

He led me to a clearing, about a dozen more soldiers gathered there. But instead of determination or fear, their faces were bursting with joy. What on earth is going on?

A knife stabbed into my back.

I collapsed to the ground, shock freezing my body. 

That was when I knew I had been tricked.

I stared at their faces, my vision starting to blur. They did not cry. They did not scream for help. My own comrades, the ones I fought alongside, did not lift a single finger to help me.             

“Sorry, it just had to be done.”

“Your death was the only way Yuraya would agree to peace.”

“You should be honored. Your single life has saved Cylendis from this cycle of misery.”

They started cheering. Cheering over my dying life. This long war was finally over. Everyone was happy. Everyone but me. I wouldn’t get to go home and see how much my siblings have grown. I wouldn’t be able to measure their height against the wall or hold them in for a long hug by the fireplace. Did my single brother and two sisters know when they had said goodbye during that snowy day, it would be the last time they saw me? Because I sure didn’t. The tears started pooling in my eyes, no one paying attention to notice it. I was merely a sacrifice. A lamb that had to be slain. 

All that I have worked for, my blood, my tears, I wouldn’t live to see it.