Time Is The Key To Everything

Chapter 14: A Bloody Flashback Of The Past

Biting steel flashed like lightning, clashing against each other to make a brassy thunder roar. The air was dry and there wasn't a cloud in the sky, but Paul was soaking wet, covered from head to toe with slick liquid. It was raining blood. A maelstrom of death.

He spun around, searching desperately for an ounce of hope to keep him from surrendering mentally.

His soldiers were being slaughtered before his very eyes, thrown mercilessly into the whirlpool of English rage that tore them apart and spilled their blood.

He tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword and gritted his teeth. The burning desire for revenge coursed through his nerves, making his heart pump so quickly he was certain it would leap from his chest.

He fought. He swung his sword and clashed against English force. He could feel the strength and power behind their swords and he could feel himself weakening.

But the sight of his dead men battered and broken on their own soil ignited a fire in him that urged him to fight on. But no matter how hard he battled or how strongly he defended himself from the sharp metal flying towards him, it did not stop his men from falling.

"You'd be better off surrendering."

Paul could still hear James' words sting in his ears. He gritted his teeth and let out a yell before pushing the English soldier back. James' voice sent tremors down his spine.

He will not give his enemy the pleasure of victory, even if it killed Paul. If he was going to die, he was taking the Englishman with him.

Fight.

Defend.

Kill.

That was a soldier's only purpose.

Dying was not an option.

"Why, what do we have here?"

Paul barely had time to lift his arm and block the blow before James' sword could slice his face in half. The blade was a centimeter away from the tip of his nose, threatening to skin it off. Paul mustered all his strength and shoved the blade away, stepping back.

"Someone lost his way to the infirmary and ended up in the big boys' battlefield." James said coldly. "Don't worry. You've got a hospital bed reserved just for you waiting there."

Paul didn't have time to retort. James swung his sword at his head and it was by sheer luck that curl of his was not sliced off as he quickly avoided the blow. He lunged toward James, aiming for his heart, but his attack was swiftly parried.

Paul could see James' snarky grin flash like the steel sword as the blade swiped at Paul's side, drawing blood. Paul forced back a yelp of pain as his uniform became bloodied.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" James said mockingly, dramatically putting a bloody hand to his mouth in feigned shock. "I accidentally got blood all over your luxurious coat! But those aren't too hard to get for snobby fops like you, are they?"

James' words were as sharp as his sword, digging their nails into Paul's scalp and painfully clinging onto him. Paul raced to stab James, but the other nation easily wounded him on his other side, almost identical to the previous one.

He was only playing around with Paul.

Paul was fighting, but he knew he was losing. The more Paul faltered, the more energetic James became, his blows coming faster and stronger than the previous one.

James was beaming as he fought, almost laughing with mirth. This was his home field, his expertise, his calling.

"Come on, now, Paul." James jeered before wounding Paul's leg. Paul stumbled, blood flowing freely from his knee. "Enough dancing. Why don't you try fighting for once?"

Paul bit back his tongue, knowing that any sign of anger would only satisfy James even more. He staggered as he battled, his right leg barely able to support him.

"This is boring." James sang. He wasn't even out of breath. "Let's kick this up a notch, shall we?"

Without warning, James grabbed Paul's neck with one hand while the other blocked Paul's sword from slitting his own throat.

Paul gasped for air, flailing under James' grip as he swung his sword towards James' torso. James deftly blocked the sword with his blade, tightening his grip on Paul.

"I'm curious!" James shouted, his burgundy eyes, flashing mischievously. He knocked Paul's sword out of his hands.

"What exactly happens to a nation if his head's cut off? Can they still 'not die?'" He brought his sword to Paul's neck. Suddenly, all signs of jollity slid off James' face, now replaced with inexplicable anger. "Any bets, Paul?"

Paul took the moment to strike James with his free hand in the chest, pushing himself out of James' clutches.

He stumbled back, relishing the taste of cold, free air in this throat before he felt slashing pain run through both legs. He was forced onto his all fours, his muscles and bones screaming in agony.

"You're wasting your time." James hissed, standing before Paul. He used the toe of his boot to lift Paul's chin up to look at him in the eye.

"You can't beat me. Nobody even cares if you win this war. They don't give a damn."

James used the tip of his sword to unhook Paul's glasses off his face, deliberately cutting a thin line across Paul's temple.

Paul could barely see anything without them. Now the entire world was just a colorful blur of black, red, and white.

"Hell, Michael doesn't even give a damn." James said. "Who have you got left?"

"Cassidy." Paul muttered.

James froze. He grabbed Paul by the hair and wrenched him up. Paul winced as he felt blood stream down his face.

"Who did you say?" James asked dangerously.

Paul refused to speak immediately, drawing out the silence just a little longer to irritate James. "Cassidy is my ally. She'll do anything to defeat you."

Crack. Paul's glasses shattered in James' hands. James let out a growl before knocking his fist against the top of Paul's head, sending him sprawling on the ground once more.

Paul could feel the sword tickle his scalp. He was completely under James' mercy.

"Well." James said acidly, grinding his heel on Paul's spine. "Looks like I have myself a checkmate."

Paul felt his ankles and wrists bound with thick chains as a blindfold was forcefully wrapped over his eyes.

Paul knew he had no chance of escape, but he struggled and flailed nonetheless, trying to fight back the binds.

Panic spiked his mind as he was dragged onto his feet, his wounded knees threatening to give out under him.

"You're lying." James said, his voice rising severely. "Don't lie to me about her. It doesn't mean anything. It doesn't. It never will."

Paul didn't need to be able to see to know that James' grave countenance suddenly brightened into a grisly grin.

"Come on then." James said loudly. "Let's go show Old Fritz what a sorry excuse for an enemy you are."