A Distant Reverie

Chapter 95

It's happening again.

Marine narrowed her eyes. Thick, viscid liquid splashed onto her eyelids. She barely registered the warm sensation of blood against her face as her sword exited the body of another marauder. The man's muffled screams grazed her ears, muted.

The sword in her hand felt unusually heavy. And yet, she swung it freely without trouble. She could no longer feel the grip of her fingers around the hilt—almost as if her arms and the sword were mending together into one.

I'm slipping.

Her head was in a haze. Her body moved on its own. Instinct commanded her movements as she was drawn by the primal urges that dwelled in the deep recesses of her mind. They usually laid dormant, hiding beneath her subconscious, content to let her take the reins of her vessel as she pleased.

Suddenly, she was losing control.

She was falling. Deeper and deeper, she sunk. The rational side of her mind fell into a slumber. Elation replaced despair. With every slash and kill, Marine felt more and more compelled to lose herself to her bloodlust.

I'm tired.

Her grieving heart wailed for relief.

How much longer do I have to do this?

The enemies, however, would not stop. The more she killed, the more they seemed to multiply. It was a slaughter that refused to end. Trapped in this unending cycle, Marine could only swing her sword.

Each kill drew another scar on her fractured heart. Her soul screamed, begging her to stop. But if she stopped, the people that she promised to protect would—

Boom!

A thunderous gunshot fired from behind.

Marine flinched as the marauder in front of her suddenly fell backwards. A bullet pierced his heart as the man convulsed at the shock before succumbing to the fatal wound.

She turned around.

It was Calli. Smoke bloomed from the barrel of the pistol in her right while Kiara rested on her left. She had a feral look on her face. A mixture of horror and disgust clouded her trembling eyes.

"...You didn't need to do that," Marine said.

She was about to drive her sword through the man's neck. She was in no danger. Calli's help was completely unnecessary.

"I did," Calli hissed back as she kept her gun raised. Marine didn't miss that the barrel was now pointed at her. "You've been fighting for too long. You need a break."

Calli's hands were shaking. Sweat cascaded down the length of her chin. Her eyes were narrowed in a glare, visibly distressed, barely concealing her hostility. Even her legs were starting to grow unsteady.

Why is she looking at me like that?

Calli's reaction was strange. It took Marine a moment to finally understand.

Oh.

It's because I'm still high-strung.

The realization struck her like a wave of frigid waters. She looked around. The cafeteria was silent. The surroundings were littered in carnage. Red was splattered everywhere. The marauders stationed here had all been cleared out. And yet, here she was, still bathing in her urge to kill. The pressure must have been suffocating.

Marine took a deep breath.

That's enough.

Clarity returned. The primal urges retreated to the back of her subconscious. The haze overhanging her mind receded. She could feel the sticky coating of blood above her eyelids. The soreness of her fingers, throbbing as she loosened her grip on her sword. The nauseating tang of blood in the air.