War's Warrior

Chapter 12

The Past Part 3

After Tim's death, the only goal on his mind was to get rid of Order. Without Tim's company, he slowly became more ruthless and brutal. He didn't care about many things, only his defeat over Order. He spent most of his time training without taking any breaks. As the days passed by, he became more and more reserved. He said close to nothing, and when he did speak, he was cold to everyone.

He started creating a wall around himself once again, this time determined not to ever let it come down. He didn't want friends. They always left him, one way or another. He didn't want to feel. It was as simple as that. Every single time he let his walls come down and he made friends and slowly started to love life once again, something tragic would happen. Something always happened to his loved ones. It was like he was cursed to never have friends. All his friends on Earth had betrayed him or left him through death. Why wasn't it any different here?

But those months of solitude and training had payed off. He was sharper now. His instincts came quicker. His movements were harder to even see.

All around him, Whites fell to the ground. But he didn't care. He just went on, killing more and more. His armor was stained with the blood of so many Whites that he wondered if it would even come off. He couldn't care less.

There were others on the battlefield besides him. There were other soldiers but he didn't notice them. He just fought ruthlessly, killing everyone around him. He seemed to have a great need for bloodshed that just wouldn't die. His need to avenge Tim's death only served to help fuel it.

A White before him fell to the ground after being stabbed in the heart. In the distance, he saw his father and Order fighting. They were fighting above the ground, a few feet into the air.

They weren't using swords, spears, shields, or daggers. It wasn't like a battle between demigods. No, this was a battle between deities. They didn't use normal weapons. They used powers. Unimaginable powers that could've whipped out the universe were used by both of them. These were the brothers that made the universe; they had the power to destroy it.

They were a distance away from each other. Order's expression was one of stress and exhaustion. His eyes were focused and powerful. They held a glint of determination that seemed to only strengthen as time passed by. His form was twitchy and he could see that Order was nervous. Besides the determination, he could see the pain in his eyes. He seemed undecided. Did he actually want to go through with this and get in a fight with Chaos? Was he even able to properly harm Chaos? But he wanted to. He could see that Order also desperately wanted to get finished with this. To finally end this bloodshed. Order didn't regret his decision to start this war. He didn't regret it at all. He just wanted it to finally end so he could be free from it, so he could continue on peacefully.

Chaos was alike in many aspects of it. He was nervous, yet determined. He was tired and stressed from the war. His eyes followed Order's many moves. He didn't want to harm Order. But there was a need for revenge in his eyes, possibly revenge for all the lives lost in this unnecessary war. And he shared Order's want to just end the bloodshed. They both wanted peace again. But they both understood that they couldn't have peace. One of them had to win, and the other loose. It had to be that way, and there was no other way towards it.

He ducked quickly when he felt as if someone was creeping behind him. He was right, of course. He barely missed a stab from a poisoned sword held by a cowardly White who would kill him, not letting him even know who his attacker was. He would rather do the least honorary thing in the war rather than actually fight him. But this was war. There was no honor when you died. And everyone's goal was survival. Everyone would take any measures necessary in order to survive. Honor was nonexistent.