Neon's morals had never been based on friendship or loyalty. He had always believed in reasoning and prospect behind everything.
And right now, this battle was anything but that.
They had planned to relocate eventually, there was even an entire team out looking for suitable replacements. Fleeing now would only mean having more hands on deck to do that. Yet everyone continued fighting as if victory was a cup to be filled by corpses. If anything, this was all to reduce their numbers.
But why?
He had been long used to having questions for dreams since he joined the chamber, but this was the only one that wasn't backed up by sanity, not even a flicker of it. The forest did not demand for a last man standing, so diminishing their manpower would accomplish nothing but more bloodshed.
Still, the problem wasn't his to tackle. The battle was already in full swing somewhere outside this stone bunker, and he was fortunate enough not to be a part of it. Even when the battle called for more bodies, his wasn't among.
Instead, he had been stationed where he was. A jagged stone room with a heavy bolder for a door. With two prisoners, and now two fellow ushers. One girl was knelt on the floor, breathing like a stuttering engine. The other sitting in a corner, chained and watching with concern. Neither of them understood what was happening.
Neon turned away, his thoughts were elsewhere.
Escape.
Every passing minute had a body drop dead on the human side, and fifteen on that of the beasts. It sounded impressive on the surface, but to anyone who looked deeper, it was hopeless. The numbers of the beasts was just too much, and trying to hollow them out carcass by carcass was like trying to empty a river with a bucket.
If nothing changed, defeat was inevitable. Neon had no intention of waiting for it to happen.
He sighed.
"There's no point delaying it now."
"Delaying what?" asked the usher on his left.
"...this."
Neon moved before his words fell. He drew his sword out, striking the man's face with the handle of it and fragmenting his nose. The usher stumbled back with a disoriented groan. The second one who had been absentmindedly counting the bumps on the wall, reacted, but too delayed. Neon's hand slipped into his pocket, flashing it out in the same moment, his pocket knife in grip.
It tore a shallow line across the man's thigh, but the acid coat on the knife made it sting like a heart wound.
And that was the last moment Neon held full control.
The first usher didn't let his bleeding nose keep him grounded, he rushed back with a shout and quick recovery. Neon parried against his without a strong foothold to absorb the impact. Steel rung dull as he stumbled back. The second usher was on him almost immediately. Neon pushed off him, unsurprised that the little wound had not slowed him down.
Now both men stood against him. His advantage was no more, and reality had proved his imagination wrong. Not all easy plans worked out easily. Truth be told, he had never thought it would be simple.
The first usher struck, but neon blocked with just as much aggression. He wasn't just fighting two men, he was fighting a truck load of Ushers and million beasts embodied in those men.
The second cut sideways, forcing neon a step back. They stuck again, and again, and again. The two men abandoned cooperation in favour of erratic, relentless attacks.
Neon feinted left, narrowly avoided the sword thrust, then threw his like a jab at his attacker's side. The man painfully caught it with his hand, but got shoved back before he retaliated.
The other jumped in before respite did, clashing steel with steel.
The ushers weren't exceptional fighters. But based on the rule that applied to almost every entrant, their greater number was enough to tilt the table.
Neon gave ground as they pushed forward. One struck high, the other at the low. One pushed him to the left, the one blocked his next step. He struck and was struck back before he could block.
He stumbled, but managed to land a kick on the first as he moved out of the corner, knocking him into the wall. He turned to the second behind him, catching his sword with his shoulder. Like everyone in this forest, he also possessed some abnormalities. One of such was his frightening anatomy. As the usher pulled his sword out, Neon tightened his shoulder muscles, holding the blade in place. He swung straight, tempted to think he had got him until the other usher broke their lock with a slam to Neon's shoulder.
His balance broke before his sword reached the second usher. He staggered back towards the center and watched the men advance with his confidence cracking.
The raging war roared outside audibly enough.
"Ironic, isn't it? " asked Neon with a snag grin. This was the battle the forest had given them in exchange for the other one. And here, death was just as expected.
The two men hung confused for a moment, but struck quickly like they hadn't slowed down. Neon caught the first with his blade, but was too slow in his pivot to intercept the second. His felt his rib protest for divorce as the strike clipped.
It wasn't fatal, but a reminder that the next mistake could result in a wound that was. Sweat ran down cold along his back. The ushers noticed his heavier breaths and upped the aggression.
Neon did not attempt to match them, he tried to wait it out. Every clang took him a step back. Every rattled through his bones made him more unwilling to receive the next.
If he couldn't break them with might, he would do it with mind. He began searching for the seam in their cooperation, but the time to find it was lacking. The first usher rushed at him again, this time with an exploitable opening. Neon made for it instinctively, but it was all their plan. The second one jumped in at the right time, destabilising neon just enough for him to miss and be left open for the jawing strike to his neck with the other's knee.
Neon fell but got up in the same motion, blocking the high slice that came for his neck. His defenses soon became shell-like, trying to cocoon himself in his blades. Of course it didn't work, but he didn't expect it to. This was all to wear them out. He wasn't a stellar fighter, but he hoped the buff of his body would carry him through.
Still, his arm trembled, his lungs burned. His decision was faintly laughing at him in the corner of his mind. Not because it was wrong, but because it had not been planned.
Then something fleshy slipped through his guard; a punch. It caught his eye and left stars censoring that part of his view for some seconds. The first usher followed with another fleshy attack, but Neon avoided it. Together they lunged again, with they swords this time.
Neon blocked with his one sword, reeling back from the impact. It happened like that again, and again, until he could predict how many steps back the next shock would send him. And when it, realisation caught him from falling.
He was losing, slow and steady. And his flame was reaching the end of its wick. He wasn't physically out of it, but something in the air told him his should count his minutes.
Then a sharp, rusty crack echoed through the bunker.
The chained girl, Mira, had snapped her chain, and strangely, was not heading towards the exit. But towards them. The nearest usher moved for her, but forgot that she was not weaponless. She swung, throwing the broken length of chain hanging from her wrist towards him, lashing him across the face.
For a moment, his attention shifted towards Mira. And that was the intervention Neon needed. He connected with a ruthless blow because he couldn't make for his fallen sword.
The second usher rushed to intercept Mira, but her weapon's range proved handy. The man slipped past the first two swings, but the third caught his leg in a bad place. He tripped scrapped his hand against rock.
Suddenly the fight was not longer two against one. The tilt was evened, and Neon would not let his second advantage die out.
He pushed forward, vigorously launching heavy blows to his opponent, not having to fully worry about his back because their was support now.
Mira did not change the tempo with skill, she disrupt the rhythm and prevented recovery. When one tried to commit to an attack, her presence forced a rethink, and the moment spent second-guessing was enough to render the attempt useless. And if they tried curbing her, Neon stepped in.
It was forced coordination, but it was what it was.
The ushers stumbled, then struggled. Then blow after blow, they stopped. Their bodies collided with the floor and ended the battle. Both laid wounded and exhausted.
Neon walked back, picked his sword and raised it.
"No," came Mira straight voice. She stepped between him and the fallen men. " They are beaten, not worth killing."
Neon frowned. "Do you understand the concept of protecting your back? Either they come for revenge lone or with a squadron of men."
"Possible, but why don't you wait till they do to scold me. I didn't help you to kill people..."
For several long seconds Neon held still with a cold gaze. Then he sighed, listening once again to the clangs of the outside battle as his weapon lowered.
"Fine."
Mira moved towards Thea and helped her up with care. The girl was becoming more pale with time. Mira noticed the mark on her arm pulsing in rhythm with the beasts roars.
'strange.'
Then she turned to Neon. "I didn't help for the sake of it, I'm expecting a favour in return."
"... escape?"
She nodded.
"Get this straight, you are in no situation to tell me what to do, but for the fact that I am planning to leave too, I'll indulge your request."
She didn't argue, she just kept silent.
He glanced towards Thea. "Don't fall behind."
Then his eyes drifted back to Mira. "And lose the girl if she slows you." He didn't wait for their response before proceeding to disarm his colleagues.
He stood at the bunker door for a moment. To one side, waited a terrible battle. To the other, waited a terrible forest.
Neither was a good option, but at least the latter offered a chance.