The inferno rose higher behind her, fiery plumes consuming the jagged spires of the ruined skyline. Ash rained down like snow, blanketing the gleaming white of her jacket, but she didn’t flinch. The air tasted of charred metal and searing ozone. A low rumble shook the earth as twin suns slumped behind the fractured horizon, their dying light staining the world in crimson and amber. She tilted her head ever so slightly, listening for the faint hum of an approaching drone. Her white bob caught the blood-hued glow, strands clinging to the sweat on her skin. Beneath the sleek blindfold that obscured her vision, she could see more than the naked eye could ever fathom—a flicker of motion just beyond the smog, the cold outline of a hunter preparing to strike.
Korben-12 was silent now, nothing left of the once-thriving city except for debris and the desperate huddled survivors beneath its crust. But she wasn’t here for them. She was here for him, and time was nearly up.
Her gloved hand adjusted the grip on the sword resting over her shoulder. Even amid chaos, she moved elegantly—a figure of pristine white and deadly precision. Her boots crunched across the scorched earth as she turned slowly, weapon poised to swing. The white fabric of her outfit was intricate, marked by delicate patterns of silver threading that glinted with residual light. Every piece of her attire, from the high collar to the flowing split cape at her back, suggested control, power, and an almost celestial detachment. A stark contrast to the apocalyptic hellscape around her.
There was a hiss through the comm in her ear, distorted by bursts of static.
“Iridelia… please, don’t—don’t do this.”
She exhaled, a sound almost too soft to be heard over the distant thrumming of engines. Her free hand grazed the intricate hilt of the blade, her black gloves as smooth as oil against the polished metal.
“You’re wasting your breath,” Iridelia replied, her voice calm, almost cold. “He made his choice.”
The engines grew louder, the faint whir now a roar that echoed in her chest. From the shrouded skies, a swarm of drones emerged, their movements sleek and surgical. Iridelia’s blindfold pulsed faintly—less a handicap, more an enhancement. Through its systems, she calculated the drones’ trajectories, their armaments, and the optimal path of destruction. She tightened the grip on her sword.
As the first drone dove toward her, Iridelia sliced the air, the blade whistling like a banshee. The drone split into pieces before it could fire, its sparking remnants crashing to the ground. The others followed suit, a deadly barrage countered by her measured, almost balletic movements. Her boots anchored firmly against the cracked surface, she twisted and struck, a cyclone of precision that tore through her enemy’s ranks like tissue paper.
But in the midst of the chaos, a memory flooded back, bitter and raw.
She’d been here before—or somewhere like it. A year prior, she had walked among the pristine towers of Korben-12, her white outfit untouched by soot, her hair glimmering under the city’s twin suns. There had been laughter, music, revelry echoing from the neon-lit balconies. In those days, she’d fought to protect this world, forged alliances, and drawn lines in the sand. He had stood beside her then—Tavon, his sharp grin hidden beneath his obsidian helmet, his hand lingering on the hilt of his own weapon. They’d fought together, bled together.
But when the moment of reckoning came, Tavon had wavered. The Council had demanded the obliteration of the Outer Settlements, branding them a liability to the larger cities—fodder for the machines that prowled the Dead Zones. It was Iridelia who had chosen rebellion, refusing to sacrifice innocent lives. Tavon had chosen loyalty to the Council instead.
Torn between their ideals, they met one last time in a soaring chamber of glass and light. The words exchanged had been few, but the look in his eyes as she turned her back on him was seared into her memory. It had been a look of anguish—and defiance. She hadn’t looked back then, and she wouldn’t now.
The last drone fell to the ground, its engines sputtering as flames licked its shattered body. Iridelia didn’t pause. She knew who sent them, and she knew where he would be waiting.
The blackened ruins of the Capitol tower loomed ahead, its skeleton clawing at the sky. As she approached the jagged entrance, a shadow moved within, and she steeled herself. Tavon stepped forward, the obsidian of his armor now scuffed and tarnished, his once-pristine cape torn at the edges. His weapon—a blade darker than the void—hung limply at his side, but his stance betrayed readiness.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Only the wind filled the silence, carrying the acrid scent of smoke.
“I never wanted this,” Tavon said, his voice rough but quieter than she’d expected.
“And yet, here we are,” Iridelia replied, raising her sword, the sheen of its white blade reflecting the distant fires.
“You don’t have to do this. You can still walk away.”
Her blindfold pulsed again, scanning his posture, cataloging every possible outcome. But it wasn’t data that drove her next move. It was resolve. Tavon had made his choice, and she had made hers. The lines of fate had already been carved.
“No,” she said, her voice edged with something that almost sounded like regret. “This ends now.”
The clash of blades rang out, a furious symphony rising into the scorched, unforgiving skies.
Genre: Sci-Fi/Action
The Source…check out the article that inspired this amazing short story: Step Into Style: A Stunning White 2B Nier Automata Costume for Your Next Cosplay
Disclaimer: This article may contain affiliate links. If you click on these links and make a purchase, we may receive a commission at no additional cost to you. Our recommendations and reviews are always independent and objective, aiming to provide you with the best information and resources.
Exclusive Stories, Photos, Art & Offers - Subscribe Today!
Post Comment