Winds howled. His breath was calm. Steady. He didn't let the battering storm destabilize his shot... until the trigger had already been pulled.
Steam blew out from the side, metallic canister jolting itself to the earth below as a deafening howl boomed from the tip of the muzzle. The bullet flew, target looking up just at the last second to see it gore through the center of his own eye.
As the distant body fell, the shooter let out a rather innate sigh of relief, wiping away a small strand of sweat that started to creep down his face.
Relief didn't come long, however, as a nearby raider set up a shot atop a nearby ridge.
The boy panicked, twisting his leg and pushing off against Nullwalker's side, the harrowing bullet slipping into the behemoths flesh as dark, almost viscous ichor spewed from the wound. Unable to stop himself, he slammed back into position, wincing at the force whilst desperately holding onto the ropes which rappelled him.
"Elias!" A nearby descender muttered, quickly sliding over and holding him steady. "You okay?"
"I'm fine!" He responded, quickly regaining his composure and loading another canister in place.
Platforms lowered to each of their sides, a small army of soldiers manning each post. All the while, Elias desperately tried to hold true to his training... but it was slipping. He steadily aimed his rifle to the attackers below, shooting as many bullets as he could in a desperate attempt to land a kill. The winds were harsh, however, and visibility between the dust and darkness was practically nonexistent. That first kill was nothing but lucky. He knew it was...
...But in his desperation, had gotten careless. By the time he noticed that a barrel was pointed directly for him, it was already too late, the bullet twirling through air and mere moments from splitting his skull.
All he felt was a shove from behind, followed by the warm splattering of blood paint against his body. He turned, only to see the man's limp corpse, lifelessly dangling from the ropes which once held him.
"Dain?" He muttered, though he never expected a response. He knew.
Slowly, he turned back to the field, laying eyes on the perpetrator and watched as his fellow descenders popped the back of his skull.
He didn't feel anything for a while. It didn't hurt. It didn't make a sound. He simply kept shooting. He kept shooting, though that image was ingrained within his head; the image of his dead corpse, which still dangled just behind him. The feeling of blood exploding onto him.
The knowledge that his own incompetence got him killed. He killed him. He was a murderer.
By now, the raid had already started to clear. The skimmers had done their jobs, so too the fools who tried to fight against a God. It was a massacre. It wasn't even close.
And yet, it was still a loss. Elias knew that. Every soldier that risked their life knew. They had lost.
* * *
As the ascent began, the sun had just started to peek over the Beret Mountains to the east, though the storm still lingered to a certain degree. The platforms clunked back into position, soldiers hastily rushing off to tend to the wounded and resupply.
As Elias' winch finished drawing him up, his first steps back on solid ground felt almost ethereal, legs still weak from fear and uncertainty.
Dain's winch didn't take long after his own, eyes naturally glancing at the corpse while the tinkerers detached his body from the ropes. He couldn't stand it. The second his own strings no longer restricted him, he left. He never wanted to look back.
The only thing which got him to stop was a rather ecstatic voice just from his side. "You're alive!"
Elias turned, an almost immediate somber-hued smile creeping onto his face. "Hey, Cosette."
The girl reached forward, tucking him in for a quick embrace before straightening herself. Her hair was a long red, almost amber-shaded tone, and her eyes weren't much different. Since they were little, she'd always been a chipper girl... almost a complete contrast to the weary Elias.
Skinny, cautious and gloomy was one way to put it. His hair was a dark brown, eyes a more cheery yet reserved blue.
Even with Cosette's unnaturally upbeat attitude, Elias' appearance couldn't help but draw her into a state of worry. "W-what happened to you? Are you okay?"
He shook his head. "I'm fine. I... really, I am."
"....You're covered in blood...."
"Yeah.... not mine. Dain, he-" He couldn't even finish his sentence before his own voice gave out.
For a brief moment, it almost seemed like she didn't know what to say—a rare, fleeting pause in conversation. It didn't last. Gently, she placed her hand against his shoulder, presenting nothing but a warm smile. "It's not your fault," she murmured. "You know it's not."
He couldn't even look her in the eyes. "Okay..." He sighed, "It's not."
He noticed her gaze shift, briefly looking out over the tinkerers still operating at the deck. "I mean, you have to give yourself some credit. No one saw the raid coming, and you were among the first to rappel."
He shook his head. "I shouldn't have gone in the first place. I'm not a soldier. I should've been with them."
She scoffed. "Well, you were brave. At least, I think you were. Maybe there's some soldier in you after all, huh?"
"Sure... no point in arguing, I guess."
Quickly did she give him a slight up-down, noting the still unenthused expression layered over his face. "How about we leave? Walk back to the dorm?"
Elias, frankly, had no reason to refuse. "Yeah," he murmured, "I need to rest anyways... and change, I suppose."
Still, even with saying that, it was impossible for him to feel normal. No amount of time could change what he saw. What he did.
And to top it all off... he still felt as though something wasn't right. Anyone could tell... that raid was far from normal. Perhaps the storm was only starting to rear its ugly head.