Chapter 11: Shadows of the Past, Flames of Betrayal

The forest was a living portrait of tranquil beauty. Verdant green leaves danced lightly in the cool breeze, their soft whispers harmonizing with the melodic songs of distant birds. Rays of sunlight filtered through the thick canopy overhead, casting dappled patterns of light and shadow onto the earthy forest floor.

Through this idyllic scene, a group of more than thirty Wardokian warriors moved with a purpose. Their march was rhythmic, a harmonized beat echoing through the forest that contrasted with the casual banter that filled the air around them. They were a diverse group, males and females alike, their bodies radiating the aura of battle-hardened soldiers, their eyes shimmering with a fierce resolve.

Each warrior bore a distinct tattoo etched onto their neck, just above the collarbone. Two letters, 'GF,' followed by a series of double digit numbers that seemed to represent some order.

Among them, a singular highly muscular figure stood out, a man whose presence was as striking as his silence. He was taller than the rest, his body an imposing silhouette that radiated a quiet but palpable strength.

He was adorned in a pair of black Ray-Ban sunglasses, their glossy surface reflecting the tranquil forest around them. Despite the lack of intense sunlight, he wore them with an air of nonchalance. Nestled within the folds of his broad, hairy beard was a wide, disarming smile that showcased an impeccable set of white, evenly spaced teeth. His bald head, smooth and reflective, only added to the overall badass aura that he exuded.

Despite his imposing presence, he didn't partake in the lively discussions around him. Instead, he remained an observer, silently taking in the peaceful beauty of the forest as the group continued their journey through the meandering trails of the verdant landscape.

As the group continued their trek, their momentum eventually came to a halt. One of the warriors called out to the silent man, "Oy, Gobelki, we're here!" His voice echoed through the tranquil forest.

In the distance, roughly twenty minutes' walk from their position, they could see a stronghold. It was manned by other Wardok warriors, whose different clothing style immediately set them apart. They seemed like an opposing faction, their presence marking a clear territorial division in the area.

With a belly laugh that rippled through the tranquil forest, Gobelki made his announcement. "Finally!" He boomed, his deep voice matching the gusto in his spirit. He stretched his arm out, pointing his index finger towards a dense patch of undergrowth that veered considerably from their current path. "Follow me, my children!" he declared, already striding confidently towards the thick bushes.

While his towering stature and hardened exterior painted the image of a warrior to be feared, there was a detail about Gobelki that was both endearing and comical. Despite his super cool Ray-Ban shades and the confident direction in which he pointed, Gobelki was, amusingly enough, completely blind. The sight of him marching into the forest, completely unaware of the branches and foliage in his path, made for an almost comedic spectacle.

Nevertheless, his stride never faltered. His aura of self-assuredness remained unaffected as he led his group, literally and metaphorically, into the wild unknown. There was something rather admirable in his fearlessness, even as some of his 'children' fought back chuckles and exchanged amused glances. This was Gobelki, after all - the blind leader of the pack, and they wouldn't have it any other way.

"Master, he's closing in at an incredible speed!" Ghost's voice echoed.

Ruster shot a quick glance over his shoulder, still bounding from rooftop to rooftop with Luke secure in his grip. The distance between them and their pursuer was shrinking at an alarming rate. "Damn it, at this rate, he'll catch up to us in minutes!" he thought, his adrenaline surging as he willed his legs to carry him faster.

Behind them, Squala was practically soaring through the air. Each leap seemed to propel him further and faster than the last. "I'M LOVING IT!" he roared, his voice booming through the empty cityscape.

He locked his sight onto Ruster and Luke, a wild grin plastered across his face. "This curse... it's filling my veins with power!" He laughed, his voice unhinged. "Maybe I'll finish them off and make it before even Captain Loopy arrives!"

His eyes sparkled with an unhinged excitement. He reveled in the newfound power coursing through him. It was exhilarating, intoxicating. He was on the verge of a mad euphoria, every cell in his body alive with the thrilling promise of a fight. His pursuit of Ruster and Luke was no longer just a chase, it was a race against time, a test of his newfound strength. And Squala was all too eager to prove himself.

Lost in thought and rapidly scanning his options, Ruster was interrupted by Ghost's voice. "Master, we must prepare for combat. There is no other option." Then he added after a brief pause."I have located a suitable location: the junkyard over there!"

Ruster flicked his gaze to where Ghost indicated. The junkyard. His heart clenched in his chest at the sight. With Luke secured on his back, he vaulted into the air, heading in the direction of the junkyard.

As Ruster made the leap, he found his mind drifting back to a simpler time. To a shared past with Squala. They were more than just fellow Wardoks, they were friends, best friends. A flicker of a memory, as vivid as a photograph, emerged from the depths of his mind; The two of them, lounging under the dappled shade of a sprawling tree, their laughter echoing through the tranquil woods. The taste of the sweet drink they'd been drinking still seemed to linger on his tongue. He could see the bright, carefree smile that Squala used to wear, a stark contrast to the crazed pursuit now.

A single tear escaped Ruster's eye, carving a path down his dust-streaked face. "I wish it didn't have to come to this," he murmured, the words barely a whisper on the wind. But there was no time to dwell on the past. He steeled his resolve, squaring his shoulders as they approached the junkyard.

With one final, powerful leap, he descended into the midst of the scrap yard, setting Luke down onto the yellowish dirt ground amidst the rusting car parts and piles of scrap.

Before either Ruster or Luke could speak, a powerful force crashed into the junkyard, carving a deep path in the earth and sending a cloud of dust billowing into the air. Squala had landed, and his arrival was anything but subtle. He struggled to halt his momentum, his feet ploughing a trench in the ground before he finally came to a stop, obscured by the dust his landing had kicked up.

As Ruster and Luke squinted into the lingering cloud of dust, an ominous laughter emerged, chilling their bones. Slowly, like a predator revealing itself to its prey, Squala stepped out of the dust cloud, his eyes radiating a deranged joy that was purely terrifying.

"Master, I'm sensing an abnormally high level of Ki emanating from him," Ghost warned.

Squala's mad gaze locked onto Ruster's, a battery-like device bouncing in the palm of his hand. His laughter turned into a raspy, unsettling chuckle. "Hey, Ruster," he drawled, the madness in his eyes undimmed. "Let's fight to our fullest, shall we?"

With a swift flick of his wrist, he launched the device into the air. It climbed high above them before exploding in a blinding flash, forcing Ruster and Luke to shield their eyes from the intense light.

Back in the alley, a solitary figure surveyed the scene, his gaze meticulously scanning every detail. He knelt to pick up a device that had been discarded on the ground, studying the map displayed on its screen. A certain location not far from their current position was clearly marked.

Once he finished his assessment, he turned his attention to Caditz's lifeless corps. He brought the decapitated head and body together, then placed his palm on the cold chest. His face tightened in concentration as he started to channel his Ki energy. It seemed a struggle, a demanding feat, but moments later, Caditz's body disappeared entirely. The man let out a weary sigh, straightening up and catching his breath.

The distant wailing of police sirens reached his ears, their urgent call growing louder. "They were alerted by the flare as well," he mused silently.

With a swift leap, he reached the rooftop Ruster and Squala had previously crossed. Once again, he checked the device, aligning himself with the pinpointed location on the map. "Alright," he uttered, a determined glint in his eyes as he prepared to pursue the path his allies had taken.

As the blinding light gradually faded, Luke tentatively opened his eyes. The scene that unfolded before him was a sight to behold - both Ruster and Squala had transformed back into their Wardok forms, fully armored and bracing for combat.

"Hey kid, go take cover behind the car over there, won't ya?" Ruster's gruff voice directed Luke, who complied without protest.

Once Luke was safely out of the way, the exchange began in earnest. With a formidable burst of speed, Squala charged at Ruster, delivering a punch imbued with such power that it sent a shockwave rippling through the air. Ruster defended effortlessly, his arms absorbing the blow, but the sheer force of it was enough to push him back.

"Ghost, that's too much even for Squala!" Ruster grunted, shaking off the residual tremor in his arms.

"It's probably the curse's energy," Ghost replied in a cautionary tone, "He'll be infusing enormous Ki into each of his attacks."

Ruster watched warily as Squala moved unpredictably, the excessive power coursing through him inciting a level of madness as he laughed hysterically, charging at Ruster again and again. Ruster, however, remained on the defensive, not yet retaliating with his own offensive moves.

Squala relentlessly unleashed a barrage of punches and kicks, but they lacked the finesse and precision of a seasoned warrior. Instead, they were the reckless, wild flurries of a man unhinged. With each erratic strike, drops of blood splattered on the ground – but they were not Ruster's, they belonged to Squala himself.

Ruster was well aware of Squala's condition and thus, continued to stay on the defensive, refraining from attacking. Squala's relentless assault, however, came to an abrupt halt. His mad eyes lost their wildness, replaced by a stern, serious gaze.

"Tell me Ruster…" Squala began softly, his voice barely audible against the ambient noise of the junkyard, "You have the guts to steal the cluster stone, you dared to make yourself an enemy of your own race, you disobeyed Lord Ozen without a second thought... and yet…" His teeth clenched together and a sorrowful tone laced his voice, "You can't attack your opponent in his last moments?"

In the silence that followed Squala's words, Ruster's mind was instantly drawn back to a memory from a time far simpler. A time when the only battles they fought were on the battlefield, not against their own kin.

##########

The memory unveiled a vibrant day with the sky painted in hues of victory. A group of triumphant Wardokian warriors were returning from battle, their spirits high and their hearts pounding with the thrill of their conquest. Among the crowd, a younger version of Ruster and Squala were busy wiping away the blood and grime from their faces.

"Damn it, damn it, damn it!" Squala muttered, frustration etched on his youthful features.

"What's the matter, Squala?" Ruster asked, nonchalantly cleaning off his boots.

"I thought this was going to be it! My final battle," Squala spat out, throwing his bloodied cloth to the ground in a huff.

Ruster raised an eyebrow at him, prompting Squala to continue. "One day, I'm going to do it. I'm going to die a noble death, just like a true warrior, just like my father, Odalf."

As Squala's words reached the ears of their companions, a bout of laughter erupted among the warriors. "A true warrior, you say, Squala?" one of them taunted. Another chimed in, slapping Squala's scrawny arm for emphasis, "With those tiny arms? I'm not even sure you're Odalf's son!" Their laughter echoed in the air, even Ruster unable to stifle a chuckle at his friend's expense.

###########

Squala stood motionless in the junkyard, waiting for Ruster's response. However, a strange phenomenon began to occur. Small sparks of flame began to ignite from his body, starting at his hips and gradually spreading across his limbs. It was an eerie sight, the flames reflecting in his unflinching eyes.

Ruster, fresh from the poignant memory, felt a pit open in his stomach as he noticed the spreading flames. He raised a hand as if to say something, his face contorting in a painful mix of sorrow and regret.

"My best friend... choosing a mere human over me..." Squala's words were devoid of anger, filled instead with a deep-seated sadness. His gaze remained locked on Ruster, even as the flames began to intensify.

Ruster's eyes welled up as he watched his friend being consumed by the destructive flames. "Too much for a noble death, huh, Ruster..." Squala's voice was soft, his consciousness fading as the flames grew stronger.

When the flames suddenly flared, engulfing Squala entirely, Ruster could bear it no longer. He materialized a sword out of thin air and with a swift, gentle slash, he cut his friend in half, granting him a merciful end before the flames could claim him.

The moment Squala's severed body hit the ground, the flames died down, as if they had been fueled by his very life energy. His body lay still, the fierce flames replaced with a haunting silence.

Ruster sank to his knees, clutching his chest in torment. "What have I done?" he whispered to himself, his voice barely audible. Tears welled in his eyes, tracing wet trails down his cheeks.

From a distance, Luke had been watching the spectacle, his young heart pounding with fear and confusion. When the fiery spectacle subsided, he cautiously approached, his eyes darting between Ruster and the fallen body of the other warrior.

Seeing Ruster in such a state, Luke was unsure what to say. In the end, he simply placed his small hand on the shoulder of the Wardokian, a silent show of support.

In the midst of their shared silence, the peaceful moment was shattered abruptly. A swift, powerful kick landed on Ruster, sending him flying backward, crashing into a pile of junk some thirty meters away. Luke felt a rush of air next to him but by the time he turned, Ruster was already airborne.

His eyes widened with terror as he found himself face-to-face with a massive Wardokian. The creature was over three and a half meters tall and its face was fearsome, resembling a demon. The Wardok's intense gaze bored down into Luke, freezing him in place.

Then, with a cold, merciless voice, it uttered a single word. "Die!"