The Olympians: The Fall of Kin

The Final Battle Part 1

            Dorian kicked the mercenary into the side of a Mercedes Benz. The merc tried to stand. Dorian sprinted forward and hit the man with the lip of his shield, caving in his chest. He heard the unique metallic clack of a rifle being cocked. Reacting quickly, he ripped the shield out of the man's chest and pivoted on his foot, placing the shield in front of him as he sprinted toward the remaining mercs.

Jeez, they're never-ending! He'd been fighting for so long. He wasn't sure where everyone else had gone. They'd separated, some helping to evacuate and some fending off the enemies while they did.

The plasma shots ricocheted off his shield, blasting holes in cars and light poles. The mercs got wise and started aiming for his legs. A blast skimmed his leg, searing off some of his flesh. "Shit." He uttered. He jumped high over-head, then came down with a slash of his sword, taking off the middle merc's head.

The two on either side of the middle merc let out expletives as their friend's body fell to the ground in a heap. They darted off, trying to make some distance between him. Dorian threw his shield at the one on his left, then rushed to his right and sliced low, cutting the nearby mercenary's foot off at the ankle. He screamed in pain. Dorian huffed as he quickly put him out of his misery, stabbing him in the throat.

He turned, then went to collect his shield. The other merc—who Dorian had thrown his shield at earlier—lay on the ground, crawling with nothing but his arms. His legs drug against the ground like wilting weeds. His spine appeared to be broken. "Please don't kill me!" He shouted. Tears erupted from his dark brown eyes; his short cut brown hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. "Please! Please!"

Dorian snorted in derision as he approached the man, then kicked his gun away from him. "Fine." He scooped his shield up from the ground and then raised the sleeve of his jacket, wiping away rivulets of sweat that dripped from his face.

"Can......can you give me something for the pain?" The man asked pathetically.

Dorian snorted derisively yet again. "I may not have it in me to kill a man begging for his life, but my kindness only goes so far. Think about what you did here all for a buck. Writhe in pain while you wait for rescue."

"Wait? But—but you can't just leave me here! My back is broken! I could die!"

"So be it."

"J-just call me an ambulance."

"They won't get here in time, dumbass. The city is under attack. Plus, fuck you, asshole." Dorian twirled his blade, letting it fold in on itself. He tapped the underside of the strap on his shield. It too collapsed in on itself.

Then, without so much as a second thought, he left, searching for survivors near the area.

Dorian wasn't very experienced. That is to say, he'd never been to war. Clarion, Artemis, Tempest, they'd all fought in the last Great War. Hell, Curie, Spade, and Kyn were all assassins. The others were jaded from world experience. But Dorian was just, as Clarion would put it, "a pussy".

Jets flew overhead, and helicopters and gunshots rang in the distance. The dogs of war barked, nipping at Clarion's heels, shouting at him, and telling him that things would never be okay again. He tried to maintain his composure despite the chaos. Death marred the air with its horrid stench. Dorian couldn't let this battle, let these people taint him. He wouldn't become like his father. He stepped over bodies that had been dead for hours, battles waged on in the distance between humans and Godkin. This felt like the end of the world.