Chapter 128
Ashita stood frozen.
The bazooka in her hands hung limply.
"But those higher-ups—they who sit behind glass desks overlooking the cities of the future—they have a different version. They say I killed to secure the formula. They call it a clean operation. They even gave you a mission years later in the same casual tone. 'Complete this mission, Ashita. Leave no trace.'"
Nirma gave a bitter smile.
"And you obeyed. You became the perfect agent they always wanted. But you know, Ashita? They never saw what I saw that night. They never heard the cry of a frightened child between two corpses. All they saw were reports. Numbers. Results."
She let out a quiet laugh, a hollow laugh devoid of any humor.
"And now they send you, the child of the victims I killed, to capture me. Such a beautiful irony, isn't it? They know exactly how to keep old wounds open, how to make us destroy each other so they never have to dirty their own hands."
Ashita covered her mouth with her left hand, her slender fingers with slightly long nails contrasting against the brick-red kemben wrapped around her body.
She let out a soft chuckle, a strange laugh that somehow sounded almost sweet amidst the frozen tension atop the hill of Heraclea Cybistra.
"Nirma, Nirma," she said between her laughter, her eyes gleaming though still alert, "I truly admire your professionalism in this mission. Truly impressive. You are still exactly as I remember, a woman who never wavers even when storms come from all directions."
She took a brief breath, arranging her next words, then continued in a tone that shifted slightly, more serious yet still wrapped in her characteristic elegance.
"But you know, the idealism you hold onto so tightly is exactly what keeps placing you in danger. Look at you now, a fugitive across time, hunted by every unit of the Temporal Cross-Police in every era, in every civilization. Is it worth it, Nirma? Is your conviction truly worth such a price?"
Nirma stared sharply at Ashita, her left eye like a blade ready to strike, while Ashita returned the gaze calmly, her face as composed as if they were chatting in a 25th-century café rather than standing on a barren hill with weapons aimed at each other.
The two locked into a silence that spoke volumes, a duel of stares no less intense than the battle raging below.
Arya, who had been observing cautiously, finally moved.
He tapped Nirma's left shoulder twice, short and firm, while across from them Tegar made a similar gesture on Ashita's right shoulder, six taps in succession with a different rhythm.
Ashita and Nirma turned simultaneously toward their respective partners, questions slipping almost at the same time from their lips.
"What is it, Arya?" Nirma asked in a low tone.
"What's happening?" Ashita asked Tegar, her voice still calm though edged with curiosity.
Arya and Tegar exchanged a brief glance, a silent communication between two agents trained to read situations despite standing on opposing sides.
Then they spoke in turns, continuing one another's words like a well-rehearsed duet.
"The battle down there," Arya began, his voice quick yet clear, "is about to reach its conclusion."
Tegar continued, his eyes still fixed on the crusader camp now showing clear signs of collapse.
"The crusaders are overwhelmed. Their defensive formations have already been broken in two sectors."
Arya added, "The Seljuk commanders are moving with high coordination. They know exactly where the weaknesses lie."
Tegar concluded in a flat, emotionless tone, like an officer delivering an analysis.
"By our calculations, within a maximum of twenty minutes, the Seljuk forces will achieve total victory. The crusaders will not retain any meaningful strength."
With movements that were nearly simultaneous despite never having trained together, Nirma and Ashita raised their respective scopes to their eyes.
Nirma pressed a small button on the side of her 2200-era scope, its lens instantly adjusting focus, sharpening every detail of the battle below with a resolution impossible for medieval technology.
Across from her, Ashita did the same with her 4444-era scope, a device that not only magnified distance but also analyzed movement patterns, predicted escape directions, and calculated casualties in real time.
Both froze for a moment, absorbing the horrifying scene captured in their lenses, while Arya and Tegar remained on guard beside them, prepared for any sudden attack even though only the four of them stood atop the hill with the hot wind blowing relentlessly.
Below, on the Muddy Ground now soaked with blood, the once-solid coordination of the crusader forces shattered like glass falling from a tower.
Through her scope, Nirma saw a commander in a white robe shouting orders in Old French, yet his voice drowned beneath the clash of weapons and the panicked neighing of horses.
The soldiers on his left flank had long stopped listening, too busy trying to save themselves, abandoning the formation they were meant to hold at all costs.
A banner bearing a red cross fell beneath a corpse, then was trampled by a runaway horse with no one caring.
Nirma let out a breath, imagining how chaotic the situation must be, how disjointed communication had become between knights accustomed to individual combat in Europe and the demands of coordinated warfare in the Middle East.
From her own perspective, Ashita observed the same scene but with far more detailed data displayed across her lens.
Holographic lines appeared before her eyes, mapping the scattered movements of the crusader forces now dispersing in all directions.
Some fled north toward barren hills offering no protection.
Others ran east, deeper into enemy territory, a fatal mistake that would only hasten their encirclement.
The largest group fled west, attempting to return to their original path, while the most panicked ran south toward open desert with no water and no shelter.
There was no safe direction, no route that promised survival.
After six seconds of silent exchange, Nirma and Ashita lowered their scopes almost simultaneously, their eyes meeting in a silence louder than a thousand words.
Ashita gave a faint smile, no longer radiant but calculated, then spoke in a formal tone that vibrated through the hot air atop the hill.
"Alright, playtime is over. The operation to capture the Abnormal at the Muddy Ground begins now."
Her hand swiftly reached behind the folds of her kemben, pulling out a small black remote with a single red button at its center.
Without hesitation, without pause, she pressed the button, and in an instant, the sky of Heraclea Cybistra transformed into a canvas painted by celestial fury.
Lightning struck from a clear sky, red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet, every color that had ever existed and never existed, descending together in a terrifying harmony, striking four points in the Muddy Ground simultaneously.
North.
South.
East.
West.
Four strikes that shook the earth, their tremors reaching even the hill where they stood.
To be continued…