Horizon: Ballad Of Zero

Chapter 2 - Echoes of War

The exhaustion weighed heavily on me, but I fought to keep my eyes open. I couldn't let them close. Not yet. My body was beyond broken, every muscle trembling with the effort to stay upright, but I refused to fall. Not now. Not like this. My vision swam, and I glanced over at the remains of the rifle—shattered pieces of metal lying on the ground, its once-powerful form now little more than wreckage.

I turned my gaze toward Fran. He was hunched over the rubble, his body wracked with sobs as he cried over the ruins of the house that had once been our home. His hands were bloodied from trying to dig through the debris, searching for something, anything, that could be salvaged. But there was nothing left. The house was gone. Our family was gone.

I felt the sting of hot tears burning my eyes, but I swallowed them down, my throat tight with grief. I couldn’t break now, not here, not in front of them. But the grief gnawed at me, clawing its way up my throat, making it harder and harder to breathe. My hands clenched into fists, the sharp pain from the cuts and bruises grounding me, keeping me from collapsing under the weight of it all.

Suddenly, I heard footsteps approaching, heavy and purposeful. I looked up, and through the haze of smoke and ash, I saw Anthem soldiers moving toward us. Their armor gleamed in the flickering light of the fires, their faces obscured by their helmets. One of them knelt beside me, reaching out as if to help.

"We have survivors here!" he called to the others, his voice steady despite the chaos around us. He moved to support me, but I slapped his hand away, fury surging up in my chest.

"Get away from me!" I spat, my voice raw with anger and grief. "You could’ve saved them! Where were you?!"

I forced myself to stand, my legs shaking violently beneath me. But I didn’t make it far. My body gave out, and I crumpled to the ground, my knees slamming into the dirt with a painful thud. The impact jolted through me, but I barely registered it. All I could think about was how helpless I’d been. How I couldn’t save them.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw someone approaching. He was different from the other soldiers—an authoritative figure, his presence commanding. His uniform was crisp and immaculate, the insignia on his chest gleaming in the firelight. He walked with purpose, his gaze sharp and calculating as he surveyed the scene.

"I understand you're upset," he said, his voice calm and measured. "But you are here. Alive. That should mean something."

He looked down at me, his expression unreadable as he gave an order to the soldiers behind him. They moved quickly, checking on the other survivors, assessing the damage. One of them knelt beside me again, this time running a strange object over my body. I flinched at the touch, but the soldier remained focused, murmuring something about my condition to the others.

Then the authoritative figure turned back to me, his gaze cold but not unkind. "Anthem would like to offer you a chance," he said. "To get back up. To stand against the Hallow. Come with us."

I glanced over at Fran, who was still crying by the rubble. He looked up at the man’s words, his tear-streaked face filled with a strange mixture of grief and desperation. Without hesitation, Fran stood up and followed the soldiers, his steps heavy with exhaustion but filled with determination.

I, on the other hand, couldn’t move. My eyes were fixed on the house—on what was left of it. Flames still flickered around the edges of the rubble, casting eerie shadows across the ground. And in those shadows, I saw the ghosts of my family. The memories flooded back, overwhelming me. Every laugh, every smile, every precious moment that had been ripped away from me.

"It's time to move forward," the man said, his voice low and firm.

I tore my gaze away from the ruins and looked up at him. "Why would I follow you?" I asked, my voice shaking with barely suppressed rage.