Beyond the Zenith

The soldier could no longer move his right hand, which left him unable to balance himself. His left-handed swordsmanship was also lacking, and his battered body was at its limit.

It took only two exchanges for the pillar sword to drive straight through his chest.

“Ha... Shit.” The soldier stood there, looked down, then glanced up at the Sharpie. “Fuck you!”

As he spat those words, the left-handed slash he had calculated and launched in advance landed. The blade cracked, opening the first bleeding wound on the Glowing Blue Sharpie’s wrist.

The soldier had always planned to do this. In his injured state, it was the only thing his body could manage.

If only the Sharpie would let go of its sword, he thought in his final moments. I’d grab it and run as far as I could.

The Sharpie roared in pain and flung the soldier off its pillar sword, sending his body spinning high into the air.

Liu Shiheng happened to be looking back from the opposite slope at that exact moment and saw the soldier die in a single exchange.

Grabbing the comrade who was pulling him along, he stopped. More and more recruits around him were stopping too.

“Go! You guys, that’s not a regular Sharpie. The head instructors are just... stalling for time,” urged the young Instructor He from Regiment 491, but even his gaze remained fixed on the battlefield. “Instructor Cao...”

The pillar sword had just torn off one of Regiment 491 Head Instructor Cao’s arms. He had seen an opening when the Sharpie was switching the sword to another hand and risked hacking at its lower back, not expecting it to turn around as quickly as it did.

One of the largest missteps of this battle was applying the same logic and habits from battling regular Sharpies. However, there was nothing they could do but step forward and try.

If they held back and tried to draw it out in an exchange of blows instead of maintaining an offensive stance to inflict sufficient damage, it would give the Sharpie a chance to leave. If that happened, they wouldn’t be able to stop it from chasing after the recruits or turning back toward the kid on the mountain.

“Old Cao!” Zhang Dao’an lunged over immediately, skidding across the ground on his knees with both blades raised. He was risking his life to block the pillar sword, buying Instructor Cao time to escape.

Instructor Cao didn’t retreat. He knew the pain would hit the moment he did. Instead, he leaped horizontally, picked up another knife, twisted midair, and stabbed it into the back of the Sharpie’s other knee.

The Sharpie pulled out its pillar sword and nailed Instructor Cao to the ground.

Using the last shred of his consciousness and his remaining arm, Instructor Cao stabbed the Sharpie in its knee the second time, at the same location.

“I’ll be going on ahead first.”

Those were his last words.

This was probably the bloodiest fight the Coalition had experienced in the last five to six years.

***

Han Qingyu only glanced at the battlefield below once before forcing himself to look away and keep climbing. ℴ

He knew he had no choice now. He couldn’t stop. If it had only been about the metal core, he would have turned and run. This was different. People were sacrificing their lives to buy him time.

That much wasn’t hard to figure out, so Han Qingyu stopped bothering to hide.

Xin Yaoqiao and He Tangtang followed tirelessly behind him.

“Go back down,” Han Qingyu urged, not looking back at them.

“I... You won’t find it easily on your own. We can help you search.” When it came to Sharpies, Xin Yaoqiao actually knew far more than Han Qingyu.

Just then, a Sharpie’s roar erupted from below the cliff.

It probably spotted us, Han Qingyu guessed. At this point, though, it hardly mattered.

“Forget it. Hurry, find somewhere to hide. Quickly. It’s coming,” Han Qingyu warned as he climbed. He could almost sense it. The metal core was nearby.

The Sharpie, meanwhile, was trying to break free of the fight. Its injuries slowed it, and the veterans were holding it back for the moment.

“Then... I’ll go help hold it off for a bit.” Gritting her teeth, Xin Yaoqiao turned to stand facing the cliff face, ran a few steps, and leaped down toward the battlefield.

“Don’t! That Sharpie is—”

“I know. I’ll be careful.”

The exchange ended there as the girl’s silhouette dropped below the rock face, blades in both hands.

Only then did He Tangtang realize she was actually incredibly powerful.

“Then I-I’m going too.” Despite not being as agile as Xin Yaoqiao, He Tangtang stood up the same way and ran down the cliff face.

On the opposite slope, a recruit noticed Liu Shiheng drawing the blade from his back.

“What are you doing?” a comrade asked.

“I don’t know. I have no idea what I’m doing,” Liu Shiheng said, already thinking about the fact that he could and would probably die.

A wave of fear and desperate longing hit him. He missed his life in Harbor City so much it ached. Tears even streamed down his cheeks.

Even so, he held the blade and ran back the way he came. The other recruits followed suit, drawing their blades and turning back.

“Stop, stop!” The young Instructor He from the 491st stood there, blocking their path. “It won’t make a difference if you go now. Promise me you’ll run. Turn around and keep running. Don’t stop. Promise me you’ll chop down a few more Sharpies for me in the future.”

With that, the instructor drew his blade, turned, and sprinted back toward the fight alone.

***

Han Qingyu saw it. The spindle-shaped aircraft had split open like a clam, with a pyramid-shaped metal object as its pearl.

Based on his limited understanding, it looked more like a receiver than a transmitter.

Regardless, he could feel the source energy flowing inside that pyramid-shaped thing.

Han Qingyu ran back to the edge of the cliff and screamed down with everything he had, “I found it! Run! Everyone, don’t look back! Run! He Tangtang, stop! Run! You—whatever-your-name, Yaoyao, Huanghuang—run! Instructor Zhang....”

The words died on his lips. He couldn’t bring himself to shout “run.”

Only one person remained below. Zhang Dao’an stood alone, his back to Han Qingyu and drenched in blood, with both blades in hand.

He stood in the Sharpie’s path, blocking its way.

The Sharpie before him, the powerful, Glowing Blue Sharpie, was covered in wounds.

“Hurry up, you little punk!” Zhang Dao’an shouted up at him.

Flashing Han Qingyu a grin, he turned back, lips curled in defiance. Then, relaxing his shoulders and firming his stance, he faced the Sharpie.

Han Qingyu could do nothing but run back to the device.

The pyramid-shaped object inside the split shell appeared to have no opening for the energy core.

Han Qingyu had no time to study it. As he placed his hand directly on it, he barely felt the surge of source energy before it vanished. It was over.

The pyramid and the aircraft started to crumble.

The Sharpie below seemed to share some kind of sensory link with the device, and the moment it started breaking apart, it let out a shrill howl that echoed between the mountains. The sustained sound reverberated through the air.

Han Qingyu guessed he probably had another one of those dark bruises forming on his chest. It didn’t matter. He rushed back to the cliff’s edge in desperate hope.

The pillar sword had already run Zhang Dao’an through.

He wasn’t dead yet. With agonized, exhausted effort, he turned his head to peer up at Han Qingyu. Knowing Han Qingyu had succeeded, he smiled. It was a proud, triumphant smile.

Then he mouthed the word “Run.”

Zhang Dao’an knew the Sharpie would almost certainly come after Han Qingyu next, and he tried to call out in warning, but found he couldn’t make a sound.

When that failed, he instead made a shooing motion at Han Qingyu. Then he did something unexpected.

Everyone spectating from the opposite mountain and beyond saw him salute Han Qingyu.

Nobody knew the exact meaning behind that salute, but most assumed that he was simply thanking Han Qingyu for helping them complete the mission.

In truth, it was a salute given in advance to Regiment 425’s future Color Eraser platoon leader.

At last, having done everything he needed to do, Zhang Dao’an lost the last of his strength.

His head dropped limp.

In his final moments, he saw his old comrades again. The special Regiment 425 Red Erasers insignia rested proudly on their chests.

Platoon Leader Wang Liuzheng stood there, welcoming him with a warm smile.

Reporting to Platoon Leader Wang. Serial number 34473. First Lieutenant Zhang Dao’an. Formerly of the Red Erasers, second formation, left wing. Requesting permission to rejoin.