Conscripts

♦ A New Era ♦ - A My Hero Academia RP

Acion Nakamiji

---

Acion found it difficult to try and look into her eyes as she refused to do the same, instead staring at his chest all the time. He didn't really want Tomoe to feel so guilty about talking to him, but then again he couldn't really blame her. She, in the end, appeared to be a genuinely nice and responsible girl after all. From the description of her quirk, it seemed like she was capable of making or was possessing a clone of hers, who held some bitter resentment against Acion. He didn't do anything hurtful to Tomoe so far, not at least out of malice. But again, that clone bit him like a dog. She had some animal instinct, which pretty much did not distinct intentions or no. They just identify threats and either shred that threat into tiny little pieces or die trying.

"If you really want to, then yes, I will definitely lend a hand. But once you're in, I don't take an out until you're finished." Acion said with a lowered tone, as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. He admired that will to fix what was wrong with her, but will at the beginning and at the end were two completely separate matter. But as long as she was still willing to fix those issues, he'd be behind her back.

Tomoe then proceeded to ask him if he'd like to draw on her bandage. Like, seriously. Her head bandage. For real. He'd never been asked for such a thing, probably because he had rarely ever gone under the flag of being close enough of a friend to do such a thing, and those he was close enough never actually got into an incident this scale. It sounded a little alien to him. And certainly for everybody else watching too, especially there are eight people in the training room, some of whom he'd not want to mess with their love button.

"Maybe another time. At another place." Acion politely declined. It didn't seem to affect the pink-haired girl that much though. She continued with an apologizing gift for what she did the other day, and it came in the form of a picture of some kind. Curious, he looked intently as her finger swiped across the screen to open it. And it turned out, it was-

"Uhhh..."

For the love of Aphrodite. How in the world did she get this picture? No way this is a set up. She must have taken it when she was still asleep. My, Hitomi didn't look as elegant as he had imagined. But for sure, that stance, her belly, she really looked cute.

'Alright alright, that's enough you sinner!'

It was as if Acion had some sort of angelic version of himself screaming in his ear with a loudspeaker to cease this stupid act. He was not supposed to look at such a personalized picture, even if he was shown and not that he actively sought for it. He was not born to be this tainted. And he was lucky enough to pull back soon enough, because of two other girls approaching him and Tomoe, one of whom was the subject of the picture. The one who seemed to know exactly what Tomoe intended to do like a psychic. He stood up upright again, his face trying his best not to show any expressions at all. Just please don't catch the signs.

The other girl approaching him was Dulga, that girl whom he had fought against on the rooftop that day. He practically lost that match, but it wasn't technically concluded, due to him trying to convince her against Amane. Was she trying to settle the score or what? Fine with him in any ways, he could probably use a couple of fights for a change of atmosphere, and maybe to apply what he had learned for the last couple of days.

"A little abrupt giving little greetings you gave me. But ok." He had no qualms about referring to her bluntness. "A freestyle fight, I assume."

@Norschtalen@Silver Carrot@liferusher

~ Valkyria Chronicles - Changing of the Guard ~

---

"...I and Papa will be waiting for you back at home..."

...

"...waiting for you..."

...

"...back at home..."

...
...

"Haa...Haa..."

That once beautiful, sparkling, curious and innocent eyes of that day. It was still there, but the adjectives had all dropped. Decayed. Disintegrated. Gone. It was now replaced with a dim fire underneath the dark blue. His lids were all blood. His brows mud. His forehead both. His lips swayed up and down unconsciously, but rhymed with the ups and downs of his chest. His hand was still holding the Longfield rifle that he somehow still miraculously retain. The bolt had just been cocked, an empty shell lied on the cold muddy ground. And behind him were more than a dozen faces, some still frozen with rage, while some had drifted away into the eternal sleep. Federations and Imperials alike, piled up together as blood mixed and washed into the stream of rainwater in the narrow trenches.

Continue, he must. Another step, he walked. Even if he was all by himself now, his legs still found its strength to take another step. Two Imperials were in the other trenches, as Michael turned the corner. They were probably as shocked and as scared as he was, seeing how the Federations were taking the fight right to their noses. And they were completely unaware of the five foot tall sapper behind him.

Two shots. His Longfield Rifle made it into his left shoulder. The iron-sight lined up. The trigger pulled. His left hand breached over the stock to grab onto the bolt on the right side of the gun, as he silently complained why the manufacturer would not create one on the left side for him and those like him. One soldier fell to the ground, his eyes refused to close. The shock of his companion's death stacked up among the other shock and horrors these two had been through, so that even though the Imperial, if he was fast enough, could have shot Michael dead on site, his arms had been crackled to freeze where it stood. With the horrors in his eyes, and his mouth gaping wide, he watched as the sapper pulled the trigger once more.

As the two Imperial soldiers dropped dead on the ground, Michael did not hesitate to reach for two strip clips inside his pocket, pulled back the bolt, rack the clips into the gun one by one then pushed the bolt forward, as he moved forward, stepping over the two Imperials he just unknowingly shattered their parent's only will to live.

And yet through all of that, he felt nothing...Absolutely nothing but two dead Imperials.

As Michael walked further, he discovered another two soldiers. But they weren't buddies like the last two. Their uniforms contrasted. And they were upon one another, one were grinding a gun with its bayonet onto the other one, while the poor victim was desperately trying to stop it. For one moment, Michael's eyes opened wide. There was something about that soldier on the ground. Short brown hair with that scar across his cheek. That's Briggs for sure. A future carpenter. His family owned a workshop that he intended to inherit and do the same to his children and grandchildren. An extremely simple guy. He met Michael at the bootcamp and, although weren't that close, helped each other to go through the grueling training of the Federation.

Again, with no hesitation, Michael brought the stock of his gun pressed tightly onto his left shoulder, but he fired as he moved forward to Briggs. The first shot did not connect. Grunting inward, Michael hastily cocked the bolt. His eyes looked both over his gun and his friend, as the Imperial's bayonet continued to sink into his stomach. Once the bullet had ejected, Michael fired the second shot. He did not miss this time. It was a direct hit to the Imperial soldier's cheek, as the soldier fell dead on spot.

All of a sudden, another Imperial appeared as he charged toward the young sapper. Now that he noticed it, he was in the middle of the T-section between the two trenches, and unfortunately, whilst he didn't notice the other guy, the Imp saw him, and was coming running at him full speed with a trench club. However, just barely enough, Michael's survival instinct saved him this time. The club was a few millimeters away from his head, as the sapper dropped his rifle to hold onto it like it was his life. It was his life in fact. His other hand caught the other free hand of the Imperial, as the two soldiers dragged each other onto the ground. Both were exhausted, their lungs couldn't form a breathe, and yet once on the ground, they were still holding onto the other in the same stance like they did standing.

It may look unbelievable to an outsider, and it was unbelievable to both combatants as well, as the smaller, shorter and seemingly unimpressive soldier emerged as the one on the top of the Imperial soldier, whilst the bigger one got pinned onto the ground. The one who took it worst was perhaps the soldier himself. How could this youngling that had probably just stopped drinking their mother's breast put him in a position like this? His hand trembled in anger, but the story of anger fueling retaliation to victory was all but fairy tale nonsense.

Michael quickly glanced around as he continued to pin the Imperial down. Right above the guy was his helmet that fell off during the struggle. It was his chance. His life. Michael, without half a second wasted, reached for the helmet, held the side firmly and slammed it onto the Imperial. Each hit emitted a sound of uncomfortable cracking. By the fourth one, the soldier was dead, the side of his forehead existed a trough.

And yet again, it ended at that. Without a second of thought, Michael dropped the helmet on the ground as he stood up. Dragging himself over to his friend Briggs lying next to the dead Imperial, he crouched down to check on him. No response. His eyes still opened, the gun and bayonet still in his gut, yet no breaths, no pulse.

Slowly, the sapper stood up from his dead friend. His eyes turned to the sky. The heaven still poured down gallons of water onto him, as if it was trying to clean his soul. But deep inside, he knew it would never be able to. He had claimed a total of nine kills today. Nine lives he claimed, nine dreams he destroyed, and many more love he crushed. How could one justify for such an action?

Every steps he made felt autonomous, but he was conscious enough to realize that the battle had ended. For now at least, but it had ended. The Federations had breached the Imperial defense line. He actually made it through. He somehow made it through the hails of gunfire, the shells of artilleries, and the unrelenting rain. He made it through alive, and without significant wounds. But Briggs did not. She did not as well...

Soon, Michael saw the rest of the squad again - those that holed up at the church ruin just before. They seemed to be alright from that group of Imperial soldiers. But then again, they were not. The Darcsen Lance Corporal was now a shadow of his former self, as the rain could do nothing to hide the tears coming out of his eyes. How he envied that man? How could that man let out such emotions and yet he here could not? He looked down onto his shaking hand, now soaked of not just one person's blood. His eyes blinked. Once. Twice. Thrice? Yet nothing came...

Once he looked down now, he realized that he wasn't alone. He was standing beside a giant, to him at least. A girl probably two heads taller than him, with a side ponytail, all in a yellow that could have looked pretty in a clean environment, but was utterly stained by the blood in the mud in the rain. She was lying flat on the mud on the ground, facing the rainy sky. Her sniffles echoed like a bat's cry, as she muttered out loud. The words that echoed louder than her sniffles, or anything that could have.

"Everyone's filthy. In fact, I admire you and the Lance Corporal for your cleanness." Michael uttered softly, as he slowly crumpled down in the trenches, resting his back on the wall made of dirt and wooden planks, his eyes looking down on his thigh, and the gun, the gun he used to kill those nine souls. "How you could express yourself like that, while I can't."
@AtomicNut

~ Valkyria Chronicles - Changing of the Guard ~

---

His eyes were split between the sight of the two gunners and the sights of the Imperials on the hill, as he silently watched both. Just a little faster, please? He voicelessly whispered his thoughts. If these Imperials caught wind of what was happening below them, they'd never let this happen. On the while, he heard comments and talks about him and his short and child-like stature, the worst offender being the girl he just pulled into the church, who later introduced herself as Diana - Diana Elana Vastergoth. As annoying as it sounded, this was no time for correction. Explaining it to them that he was actually not a kid wouldn't do anything if all of them were dead on the ground a few minutes later. He'd rather let them be for now, let them indulge the plan and hopefully would stick to them.

The moment his superior broke into a run, the gunners immediately lit up the hill with their hail mary of rounds. Now's the chance. As much as Michael liked to stay behind the thick cobblestone wall of the old church, he knew too well that if he did not die by the enemy's bullet right here right now, he'd die by his ally's bullet later on in the battle. And his death would not only be it. He did not underestimate the power of rumors. He feared both, but better to die being a loyal soldier rather than a coward, so that his family would not suffer after his departure.

He watched as his comrades began to charge up the hill, following the straight line of gunshots from the two gunners. He followed suit shortly thereafter, as his rather short silhouette moved with the swiftness that was rarely seen and expected for a man of that size. The two joints of his leg bones shifted smoothly as he glided here and there along the way up the hill, praying a bullet would not make it into his head, and that those who were ahead of him could distract them just enough for him to make it up the hill alive.

And indeed he made it. The sight of that mound of dirt brought a heavy exhale of relief. But it was short-lived, and he knew it. The moment he stopped to be attacked by machine gun bullets was the moment he would be assaulted by the infantry inside. Michael was not at all confident in his ability as a close-ranged fighter, despite being told of having an unusual amount of strength in him. But at least he could be using his weapons right now instead of sitting ducks down there.

With a short leap, Michael had stepped his foot onto the enemy's trenches for the very first time. And just as the call of the devil, the soldier next to him turned around, his eyes widened in surprise. Surprise quickly turned into anger. As it was evident, he was an Imperial. Both of whom swung their weapons around, but the Imperials judged the situation differently than his enemy. Knowing how close they were, the Imperial instead surged forward, instead of trying to shoot his rifle, he tried to ram the weapon onto him instead, the sharp bayonet like a scythe of death from the reaper himself.

Michael's luck all of a sudden dropped to his low. His prayer did not reach in this very particular moment, as his hand shook the moment he pulled the trigger on his rifle. The bullet went right pass the guy's chest harmlessly, thus allowing him to attack undeterred. A shout came out from his lips as he was certain of a quick kill. Time all of a sudden seemed to stop...

"Honey. If you ever feel like you're in a black hole in this universe, remember that I and Papa will always be waiting for you back at home, will always take you in even if the entire world turns your back against you."

"I know I am being hard on you, but you have to remember, I am doing this all for your own sake. I cannot afford to have anymore child than you. So you are the only culmination of our hopes and dreams. Remember that, so you can live a life worth living."

"Be safe. Write to me every chance you can get. I love you..."

No...

His eyes looked up

No.

His grip tightened.

NO!

The moment that soldier noticed the fire burning, he was already at his mercy. A powerful side swing of his own Longfield Rifle redirected his bayonet to the wall of dirt nearby. And his legs had plunged him too deep. Now he was right in front of Michael, and the sapper's bayonet was in active position. And who in the right mind would give this man any mercy at all, when he gave him none.

An earth-shattering frontal kick sent the Imperial stumbling a few steps back into the trenches. A merciless frontal force brought a piece of metal straight into the man's heart. Within seconds, the life in the young soldier's eyes were drained out of his soul, just as the metal bayonet continued to impale deeper into his veins. Michael proceeded to twist his rifle, making sure the man finally left this earth before he pulled it back.

It was his official first kill.

He honestly wanted to choke. But now that the blood had already stained his bayonet, he knew nothing better than to swallow it, even if he didn't want to.

He turned around to see a group of few Imperial soldiers running in the opposite direction of him. And unobscured by the rain, he could see some of his squadmates from the church ruin. Hopefully they were seeing what he was seeing.

♦ A New Era ♦ - A My Hero Academia RP

Acion Nakamiji

---

To him, the minutes that passed by felt so much like he just travelled through time. By the time he was done with the lesson, his breathings had fastened, his hand emerged a slight hue of red, after countless times he punched, beaten and thrashed the wooden dummy in front of him. From the outside view, it seemed to anyone that the winged hero was on the rail, the first step toward mastering his style and trying to become a better fighter. But from the inside out, however, things weren't so simple. The moment he took a step away from the dummy, a sense of hollow began to rift in his chest, as it crackled onto his limbs, preventing him from moving any further away willingly. He could feel as if the moment he walked away from the dummy, some villain of unimaginable would appear in front of him, at the school, and he would leave with them in dust. It wasn't enough. It totally wasn't enough.

But as much as his mind wanted to continue on with this endeavor, his body would further refuse to comply with his orders. His muscle had tensed, his neurons fatigued. He had no shape to continue unless he take an interval of breaks. So as much as his mind and body was disagreeing with each other right now, he knew the best option would be to obey nature's law and take it easy. Perhaps he could distract himself with something. Or someone.

Now that he eyed on the other corner of the training room, Acion could notice two other occupants that were sharing the same intention as him. Three actually, but Mamoru left as soon as Acion noticed her. He wondered what she was up to now. The other two seemed to have finished their friendly sparring with each other. He did remember those two having their own respective moments of highlights in the last major fight with the class, though one of them were on the opposite spectrum comparing to the other guy. But they seemed busy with each other right now that Acion found it a little imposing if he approach them now. A pity that he was a little too focused on his own little corner that he missed out most of the battle that they just had. He could have had a nice reference for his own training too.

As he wiped the sweat on his face and neck, he cooled himself down with a couple of sips from his sport drink. It was still quite early to call it a day. He had nothing really interesting to do outside of this training room anyway, or anyone else to meet, so he'd probably would remain in this little corner here for the rest of the day, until dinnertime. Hopefully Donny or someone would have something good to compensate for what he did today

'Huh?'

Just as he turned around and was preparing to put away his stuff, a thud suddenly fell into his hearings, as he saw Tomoe right in front of his vision. How did she come right behind him just now? This girl could be spooky sometimes. But more or less, rather than sneaking up and hitting Acion, she instead was on the ground, bowing deep like a puppy who just got scolded by her owner. It was the old Tomoe again. The cute and sleepy girl he knew. But why was she saying sorry then? What was that clone of her all about? Was that all her controlling, or was it an alternative persona?

But still, she was right below him. While he still had some nightmares about that bite on his leg the other day, for some strange reason, he didn't feel resentful or anything. Maybe he was maintaining his agnosticism, that he didn't know if Tomoe really wanted to hurt him that day. Or maybe because he too felt like he deserved the beating. Not exactly for the right reason, but for what happened earlier that day, he felt like he needed to have his share too. Nevertheless, the fact that she was bowing down in front of him did not really sit well with him.

"You don't need to be so dramatic." He kneeled down on one knee right beside Tomoe and talked to her gently. "Just stand up."

If she would that is. He was more comfortable to settle things as equal rather than the judge.

"You don't have to say sorry to me. I've always considered what happened on that day to be even. Or maybe I owed you something. But either ways, that's not on you."

@liferusher

~ Valkyria Chronicles - Changing of the Guard ~

---

It was right there. Just thirty footsteps away. He knew that every seconds passed was a gold mine slip away from his hand. Any seconds now, that machine gun could open fire again, and could potentially snub out his life, his ambition and his potential to this world forever. But his foot stride converged. He could not rush forward any faster. Because behind him was also Michael. Was also Paloma. Was also Jean, Isaac, anyone he could list the name and faces. It was another human being, a living breathing feeling creature, who also had a family waiting for them back home, had something to live for. And he was not going to recreate that scene again.

But fortunately, very fortunately, for both Michael and Diana, the noose decided not to drop today. The machine gun continued to remain silent. They were probably struggling to handle those weapons. Drops of water leaked into his eyes, forcing the lids tight, and him to rub his face onto the muddy shirt. It’d prove to make his face less attractive, but everybody was equal. Now the ruin was twice as large as before. Come on. Nearly there. He just need to push on a little longer.

It wasn’t his stamina that led to the rash ins and outs of air through his lungs. It was his heart pounding his chest, and echoing into his mind, once every half a second, a stark and constant reminder of how thinly it was the line between life and death. Not even half a second notice, and your lifespan would be cut short by a few decades.

The moment his two legs stepped onto the stone-paved foundation of a once holy place, he could hung his mouth in relief, as his chest ceaselessly moved up and down. But the tiredness from the stress of moving that far ahead with the threat of dying all over him could not be compared with the bliss he was in right now. He was alive. The girl’s alive. He made it. For now at least, but he made it...

Finally, he let go of Diana’s wrist, also letting the girl have her moment. She managed to catch up with him for that much, considering she also just made all the way from the front trenches. That was an accomplishment to say the least. He had lots of remarks on that, but nothing materialized from his dictionary, nor could he access them right now. Instead, he simply gave her a thumbs-up, if she could see it that is.

’Now what’s the plan?’

He turned to Isaac and Jean, who were busy scouting the area. Their plans were being made and voiced out, yet it was completely overwhelmed by the man right beside him. A blonde-haired man, that his chin stood at Michael’s height. He was insisting to have his equipment carried, in order to increase his chance of survival as he put it. It was hypothetically a good idea to do that, but a sapper is no sapper without his equipment. What if when he got up there, he needed those equipment? He’d not only risk being prosecuted for discarding his stuff, but he may likely endanger his allies. What if the guy died before reaching the trenches? Didn’t even need an answer for that.

”I’m alright. I can carry all of this.” He replied, knowing that the guy had mistakenly addressed him as a kid, but he didn’t care to correct him now. Not when bullets were still zooming over his head. But the guy was persistent. He still tried to convince Michael to give him his equipment.

”I said I’m alright. I’ve been trained for this.” He was a little annoyed, but politely raised his hand in rejection, before turning over to Isaac and Jean, trying to hear their plans. So Isaac and another gunner would be suppressing the machine gun up there, and he would-

’Tch’

It was that guy again. He still hadn’t let up despite the clear objection. Who is this guy think he is? He isn’t anywhere above the rank of Private? And yet he’s saying these things to Michael as if he is one. He has no rights by law.

As the man continued to press on, his patience grew thin. Until it finally reached boiling point. Just as Archibald was reaching out for Michael and his gear, with a swipe of his hand, the man received a slap on the wrist by the ‘kid’ that he perceived him to be. But the expression on his face and his voice as he addressed the man was far from being kid-like, cold and austere like ice.

”I may be a kid to you, but I don’t take orders from you. You are a Private. You have no rights by the military law to act superior over me.” He said, unrelenting. ”If you have the strength to carry twice a sapper’s equipment, then you better save it for the climb ahead.”

If he dared to go forward after that, he’d report this directly to the Corporals.

Once said, he could finally hear the briefing of the plans. It was a quite simple and by the book plan of suppressive fire to back the advances of the shocktroopers and other backbone troops. He was fine with that though. A familiar plan for the better most of the time.

”Hurry, while the guns are still silent.”
@Letter Bee@Landaus Five-One@LetMeDoStuff

Valkyria Chronicles - Changing of the Guard

Bumping this check up as we are still lookingg for and welcoming new players to the RP

~ Valkyria Chronicles - Changing of the Guard ~

---

How Michael made it all through all of that without dying, while so many others didn't, he did not know. He could not know. Even some of the NCOs was laying dead in the mud now. Not even the rich or the poor. War made everyone equal, as they all rot in the dirty mud. Michael himself had gone through multiple close calls himself. Just a while ago, if he had been the one among the first ranks instead of her, she'd be the one having to lift his dead body out of her. And while he was making his way up the hill, the private right in front of him were shot dead right in his track. The bullet stapled right into his chest. Had he not been right there, Michael would've been the one in his place. And many more occasions where he could've been lying in the mud, being worm's food. And yet here he was. But he was far to call this a miracle. He was still barely halfway up there. And the closer he gets to the top, the more susceptible he would be to enemy machine gun fire. The cross must do a lot more work than just that.

'We can't just run into the muzzle like headless chickens like this!'

Is there any plans at all to this? Where's the two Lance Corporals in his squad? Dead? Or is he still digging in at some cover in the midst of the hill? He couldn't see either of them from here. The rain was blurring his eyes, as it mercilessly continued to pour down upon the sapper. But his hearings was still good enough. Hopefully so. If it hadn't been ruptured, and wasn't fooling his senses right now, Michael could hear a man screaming for his rank and telling him to fall in. He was calling from the direction of an old ruin where a few guys appeared to be taking shelter from the machine gun fire. A ruin of an old church. Just as if the Advocate was guiding him toward. It was definitely not a life insurance, but he could definitely use a breather and formulate something rather than just mindlessly charging forward to be slaughtered.

He bent low, as he was ready to rush for the old ruin. But his subconsciousness halted Michael right in his tracks, as a fairly high-pitched voice shredded through the hails of gunfire, seemed to be asking for something. Nobody was around him, so he must have been who she was addressing. Turning around, it was a small young girl, though seemingly older than those like Paloma or Lucia, with blonde hair that was tied up neatly under the hard helmet, along with a fairly tanned skin color like Jovan. But all of that wouldn't paid him no attention. Instead, what shot him right into his core was her eyes. A beautiful, innocent and lively sky blue. Michael was still walking forward, but his pace slowed, as something tucked right at his chest. It wasn't the first time he saw those eyes. Just minutes ago, she was...

His arms began to shook. His hand still stained with the blood from the trenches. It wasn't just the cold, or the heavy equipment. For a split second, he felt like he was going to choke, as he had to swallow twice to dampen the pain in his chest. Not now. Not this time...

But then suddenly, the rapidness of the bullets was suddenly cut by two thirds. The lack of whizzing bullet recalled Michael back to his sense. One of the leading machine guns firing at Michael's squad suddenly stopped. Did someone kill the gunner? Or was it just ceased to reload? He didn't know, but now is his once in a hundred lifetime chance. He wouldn't make it for the enemy trenches, but he could make it for the ruin alive for sure.

"Here. Let's go!"

And he definitely wouldn't leave her behind.

"We cannot slow down and dig in now. Not until we get to those old ruins!" Grabbing her by the wrist, the sapper helped her up from the two dead bodies that piled up like a staircase, and pulled her along the way to the church ruin. She looked tired from the runs, but the barrier between life and death was just a dozen meters away from both of them. He doesn't want to see any preventable deaths out there.

@CFProxy@Landaus Five-One

♦ A New Era ♦ - A My Hero Academia RP

Acion Nakamiji

---

CLUNK!

The sound of woods crashing onto one another echoed in the vicinity of the training room. And those outside could take heed of it if they paid close enough attention.

CLUNK!

Again, the sound emitted. There was a recognizable rhythm to that. That every three or four seconds passed, another sound would echo. It wasn't to any particular song, nor any particular rap. And it wasn't too consistent either. The interval could extend up to five or six seconds, or reduced to only two or one. It wouldn't occur to anyone that the room occupant was practicing some songs or anything. More rather he was smashing woods against each other for some reason?

CLUNK!

"Argh!"

Then followed a yelp from the inside. Peering in, it was the hero in training with six gigantic wings, hugging a side of his right hand as his brows dipped and his teeth clenched. And right next to him would be a wooden dummy, with several beams of woods protruding out of a huge cylindrical one, resembling a human being. And it appeared like in a battle against the wooden dummy, Acion just lost.

"What was that again?" He looked at the training video online. It was simply a misimpression of the move he did, in which the practitioner was actually using the palm against the dummy, yet Acion used the side. It was just as simple as turning his hand by an angle, yet it sent a huge shock right down his hand.

For the last few days, after the fight with the Shadow Clan and the wrestle with Tomoe, the room that Acion spent the most time in would be this one. Close quarter combat is not something that could be achieved and mastered in a few days, and for Acion, being guided with nothing but his own tablet made it even harder. Told by his teachers, and woken up by the humiliating fight with the Shadow Clan, in which he found himself unable to do anything against his opponent, he was determined to become a more able fighter in this. Of course he would still be mainly fighting with his wings and feather barrages, but not every battle would be fought in a way he wanted. And despite being told he made the right decision, he couldn't shake it off his head. What if that guy had been stronger? What if he did not permit Acion to leave? He and his sister would be dead-meat. So much for being a hero if one died without contributing anything of substance to the fight.

"Hrgh!" He punched the wooden dummy one more time, with his unhurt hand, as he exhaled loudly. It was not pleasant to live with the fact that you ran away from combat because you simply did not have enough strength to carry on the task. He knew he was just a hero in training, nothing more, but something kept eating him on the inside.

He gave another sigh. "I wish I have someone good enough to help me at this one."

Innocence Lost: Space Western Science Fantasy (Temporarily Open Again!)

Alexander Kherol

---

"Yes sir. Though I believe he'll be heading for you soon enough." The captain nodded. As he just opened the door and was half a step out of Alexander's office, the young man in question was already in front of him, still look expressionless and robotic as ever. It was initially a little awkward for the captain the first time he met the man, but now he had gotten used to such things, and now sometimes he even poked fun about it with him, off-duty of course and with respect. It was a common theme among the Royal Guards, and even though some took it a little too seriously, the Rau've veteran couldn't help but admire their spirit. It was thanks to exactly that that the Royal Guards earned the fearsome reputation that they had today.

"Please." The captain courteously held the door for Kotaro as both stepped into the room. "And Madame." Followed right after by the grand admiral's personal secretary, with a nice hot meal especially for him.

"Thank you Pallas for your hard work. I'd find it very necessary tonight." Alexander politely nodded to his secretary as he let her near the desk to place her meal. It was surely tempting to dig in, the smell of chicken breast, just fresh from the ovens. But now, he had two gentlemen to brief.

"I assume you've been informed of the situation at hand. Then make yourself at home for now." He gestured the two men, and Pallas too if she wanted to, toward the armchairs at the side of the room. He was pretty sure that today would be quite a long day for all of them. "So far, we've received nothing of both the recovery team and the provocateurs at the area. It's quite a rare occurrence that both of them would be in radio silence at the same time. Radio jamming is a pretty certain, but the reason why, me and Captain Fredrov here is still making hypothesizes. If you have any, we'd love to hear it."

"Do you think Agent Snow is planning something behind our backs sir?"

"Anyone can. Not just Snow." Alexander said. "He is...a rather mysterious individual from my perspective."

Just as the admiral made his comment, a notification popped up from his table. A radio contact. From...

"Speak of the devil. I'd love to hear his report."

It was actually him. His voice was unmistakable. But there was discrepancy. Mainly in the radio frequency. This isn't a personal radio. This is the radio usually found in a starfighter. Why is he using that instead of his own?

"Is that so? Alexander replied, his brows lifted in curiosity, yet all Snow would hear is a deep chilly voice. [b]"Hmm, I'm not so sure myself. Not until I can have an explanation why the soldiers at the Circle of Hell do not give a single signal back to us for the last nine minutes."

Alexander looked at the captain, seemingly asking him for confirmation. He complied immediately, trying to contact those at the Circle of Hell, but to no avail. The result was a light shake of his head.
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~ Acrobats of the Sky: A light-hearted 1940s pilot story ~

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