18 Chapter 14 - ascension trial(4)

"What'd he say?" a soldier approached John upon his return to the squad.

"He basically told me if I'm so damn cautious, I should do the scouting myself," John replied, frustration etched across his face.

"What's your plan now, Captain?" the soldier inquired, his expression marked by concern.

"What else can I do? I'll stick around and ensure we're not ambushed. If I were to go scouting right now, the Commander would boot me for disrespect and insubordination," John responded, sighing as he reclined, gazing up at the sky.

'Fuck,' John inwardly cursed as he observed the scene. 'If only I had defied that order back then... Shit,' he cursed again, covering his face with his right hand and staring at the sky.

"I'll go talk to the rest of the squad. You talk to the soldiers, remind them to stay alert. We're in the Confederation's territory, and their troops know this terrain inside and out. We're at a disadvantage, so it's best to be cautious," John instructed, patting the soldier's shoulder before walking past him.

"Fuck," John muttered as he walked by, taking note of the exhausted state of the soldiers. It was worse than what the Grand Commander had warned about. The situation was far from ideal. They had rushed too hastily initially and were now facing the consequences.

"Captain, what did the Grand Commander say?" a soldier from John's unit questioned, the ten members he was responsible for assembling.

"We're screwed," John responded, explaining the dire circumstances.

"So what's the plan now?" one of the ten inquired.

"Rest for now. Recharge your energy as much as possible. We might be vulnerable right now, but the Commander isn't wrong. If we move at this point, we'll be too exhausted to respond effectively when needed. Especially the infantry... if they were told to move without rest, I bet there'd be more than a few ready to mutiny," John explained, dragging a chair and taking a seat.

"Well, if the Captain says so," one of the members muttered awkwardly. The others either pulled out chairs to sit next to their Captain, ventured outside for some fresh air, or retreated into their tents.

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Time flowed much as before within the camp. But for the real John, those few hours until nightfall were akin to torture. He knew what was coming, yet he couldn't alter the inevitable.

"It's starting," John murmured as a nearly invisible mist began to envelop the ground where they stood. "Initially, we believed this was just the nightly mist in the valley..."

"Hmm, seems the intel was correct. The valley really does get blanketed in mist at night. This isn't good; something's off," John mumbled as his vision slowly blurred. Soon, he couldn't keep his eyes open anymore, and the real John's world faded into slumber.

In this state, John didn't know what would happen next. Just as before, both in his current state and back then, he succumbed to sleep due to the mist covering the area. Yet, he could hear every...

"ARRGGHHHHHHHH!" a scream pierced John's ears, but his body remained unresponsive. He couldn't move, no matter how much he willed it. His comrades' cries entered his ears, one after another... John had never understood the nature of the mist that caused them to fall asleep, rendering even a aura grandmaster like the Grand Commander severely weakened. But whatever it was, it made it impossible to fight the Confederation army.

"ARRGGHHHHHHHH!"

"Saveeee meeee!"

"ARRGGHHHHHHHH!"

...

...

...

The screams multiplied, growing louder and more intense, slowly driving John to the brink. This was unlike war or battle. If his comrades had fallen in those scenarios, the pain would've been less because he'd know they had given their all. But now, neither he nor his companions could move. All they could do was listen to the agonized cries of those fighting alongside them.

'Please stop,' John screamed internally as tears flowed. His mind teetered on the edge of collapse. Amid escalating screams, a warmth spread from his stomach. His eyes fluttered open, revealing a stab wound on his abdomen.

"What the hell's happening here?" John murmured weakly, struggling to keep his eyes open. He directed pressure to the wound, his gaze fixing on the cloaked figure with a white turban who'd inflicted it. He wanted to pay more attention, but the combined effects of the mist and his injury hindered his actions.

"Ascension stage 3 - Concept Divide," John mumbled, drawing a knife from his back and stabbing his own leg, momentarily purging the fog of grogginess that clouded his mind and bringing him to full alertness.

"Who... who are you?" John managed to utter as he struggled to his feet, his movements hampered by the two stab wounds he'd sustained.

As he advanced, the distressing sight of one of his companions bleeding out, conscious but immobilized, sent shockwaves through John. If not for the fact that the man was an aura master, he would have been in the same dire condition.

"Huh," John exclaimed with vacant eyes, his head spinning. His shoulders slumped as he clumsily retrieved his spear from a space ring. With a feeble swing, he invoked, "Ascension stage 2 - Elemental Cut." The spear's motion dispersed the shrouding mist, revealing a grim tableau of lifeless bodies—his own people killed helplessly. Meanwhile, the Grand Commander stood alone, taking on 45 of the 100 ambushers that had sought their lives.

"Huh," John muttered once more as he moved forward, but a grip suddenly seized his leg. It belonged to the soldier he had spoken to just after his conversation with the Grand Commander. 'What was his name?' John's mind raced. 'Why can't I recall his name? Actually, what were the names of everyone here? Why can't I remember their faces?' Panic welled within John as the surroundings blurred. Faces faded from his memory. A resonating voice intruded into his mind, saying, "Do you think you're any different from them? If you've forgotten them, do you expect others to remember you?" A faceless corpse, head twisting unnaturally, delivered this eerie message to John.

"No, no," John stammered, retreating. His backward step cracked the ground, as if he stood on the brink of a precipice. "Why can't you remember those who perished, because you failed to convince the Grand Commander? Yet you can recall all who fell beside you in your final battle? Is it an attempt to shirk guilt or a means to move on?" Another corpse spoke, the very one that had clutched John's ankle earlier.

"It can't be... I'm sure I remember everyone I knew on that battlefield," John insisted, collapsing to the ground. Such mental tactics usually wouldn't sway someone of John's caliber, but there was a reason they took root now. The ceaseless screams of his comrades had already driven him to his limit. When the notion that he couldn't even recollect those he wished to safeguard was thrust upon him, his very emotions were cast into doubt, shaking his resolve to its core. "If you can't recall those you vow to protect, what is it you fight for?" another corpse asked, evoking no reply from John, who gaped in horror at the faceless figure before him.