Chapter 722: Unyielding
(11 days after Juxta's fall, floating through space, Commander Rufas's POV)
The stars stretched endlessly across the void outside the viewing deck, but all eyes aboard the destroyer ship were fixed on the blue-green sphere ahead: Tithia.
Commander Rufas stood at the glass wall with his hands folded neatly behind his back, his mood happy, as he felt pure excitement course through his veins.
"So in the end.... good does prevail over evil."
Rufas murmured, his tone calm yet triumphant, as the officers behind him, rows of neatly dressed men and women in identical righteous faction uniforms straightened at once, smiles spreading across their faces as they exchanged quiet nods of satisfaction.
"If I may, Commander," one of them said, stepping forward. His name tag read Barry Lint, a young lieutenant with graying hair at the temples and a nervous energy about him. "I have a story to share."
Rufas turned slightly, his composed gaze meeting Barry's eager eyes. "Oh, please, by all means, go on, Barry."
The lieutenant bowed respectfully before continuing, his voice steady but laced with excitement. "When I was a child, Commander, I used to play war with my friends, pretending to be soldiers of the Righteous Faith. We would march across the village gardens and claim that we were purging the Evil Cult. And every time we played that game, I always dreamed of destroying Tithia."
He paused for a moment, his voice softening as a smile tugged at his lips.
"Now, forty years later, I finally have the honor of making that childhood dream come true."
Rufas regarded him quietly for a moment before nodding, his lips curving into a faint approving smile. "It isn't just your dream, Barry. It's the dream of us all..... of all who support the Righteous side."
He turned back toward Tithia, his reflection glinting faintly against the transparent alloy window.
"Every soldier of the Righteous Faith grows up hearing the same stories of how the Evil Cult breeds heretics, assassins, and sinners who disturb the universal order. So to destroy them is not just victory. It is justice fulfilled."
He said as he clasped his hands tighter behind his back, his voice calm yet heavy with conviction.
"For the Evil Cult, Tithia is their administrative heart, their second most vital planet after Ixtal itself. And its fall is as symbolic as it is strategic, for its downfall is an undeniable signal that the times when the Evil Cult used to terrorize the universe are over. That from here onwards, there's no way back for them..... That from here onwards, the Righteous Faction will prevail!"
Rufas said as he raised his fists, prompting his underlings to burst into mellow applause.
*Clap* *Clap* *Clap*
They clapped rhythmically, as Rufas smiled faintly, his gaze never leaving the world below, as he saw it inch closer and closer every passing second.
"Today.... We shall win."
He said, as internally, he no longer doubted that outcome. --- (Meanwhile, down on Tithia)
*THRUMM*
*Crrrrr*
The ground on Tithia quivered faintly as the first mana-destroying beams struck the planet's protective dome.
The sound rolled through the air like thunder trapped beneath the sky, the vibration spreading from city to city until even those deep underground could feel the tremor in their bones.
*CRRRRR*
*THRRRR*
The vibration intensified, as the first strike was soon followed by a second, then a third, each one heavier, louder, closer, as dust drifted down from the ceilings and the faint-hearted felt their pulses stutter with dread.
Inside what had once been a humble bakery, the Cult commoners made a makeshift bomb shelter by reinforcing the interior with scavenged steel beams, wooden planks, and layers of sandbags stacked to absorb shock.
They removed the tables and ovens to build barricades, the floor now crowded with makeshift weapons and ration sacks. And yet, despite the ruin and tension, there was a strange stillness in the room, an acceptance born of knowing that the end had finally arrived.
An old oil lamp flickered on the table, its faint orange flame trembling with every rumble that shook the ground.
Shadows stretched long against the cracked walls, shadows of old men and crippled veterans, of mothers holding frightened children too young to grasp what was coming, and of young men too broken to flee.
*Step*
*Step*
*Step*
Suddenly, the silence was broken as the door slammed open and a young scout stumbled in, his breath ragged, his face pale and streaked with dust.
"The barrier..." he gasped, clutching the doorway for balance. "The barrier has been breached. The enemy is here."
A sharp intake of breath swept through the room, yet no one screamed or panicked. They simply turned their heads toward him in quiet acknowledgment, as if they had all been expecting those exact words.
"So it begins," murmured an elderly man seated in the corner, his legs long gone but his eyes bright with grim resolve, as he brushed his trembling fingers over the edge of an old mana rifle resting beside him, a relic from another war, long past.
"Better it begins now than later. I've been ready to die since the day they burned Juxta. And my vision is not so good when it gets dark. So I'm happy it's just afternoon." An old woman sitting beside him said, her hands blistered from welding the barricades all morning, as she let out a soft breath.
Around her, quiet nods followed. No tears, no panic, only a grim serenity that came from having nothing left to lose.
They were the ones who had been left behind—not by neglect, but by fate.
The poorest who could not afford the voyage to the neutral territories.
The aged who Chaosbringer had deemed too low in priority to evacuate now.
The proud who refused to abandon their homes, unwilling to flee like ghosts from the lands they had lived and bled for.
As despite their varied reasons to be here now, they had all made peace with death in their own way.
Some sharpened knives that would snap after one swing. Others loaded scrap bullets into half-broken rifles.
While one man, once a farmer, sat in the corner whittling a spear from the handle of a broom, humming softly to himself as if preparing for harvest.
Outside, the streets were crowded with barricades of stacked furniture, overturned carts, and crude traps of wire and flame, each one placed with desperate care by those who already knew they would never see sunrise again.
*BOOM*
*KABOOM*
*CRASH*
As the explosions above grew louder, an old woman rose to her feet, clutching the hand of a child too young to fight but old enough to remember. "When they come," she said softly, "you don't run. You throw the first stone, and you keep throwing until your arms give out. Promise me."
The boy's voice trembled, but his answer was steady. "I promise."
Across the room, someone laughed faintly—an exhausted, hollow sound that somehow still felt like courage. "At least we'll take a few of those righteous bastards with us."
"Maybe more than a few," another replied, adjusting the cracked goggles on his face with a faint smile. "We'll make them remember Tithia. Even if they burn it to ash, they'll remember."
For a brief moment, something warm flickered between them. Not hope, for none believed in survival, but pride... the pride of those who refused to kneel even when the end stood at their doorstep.
*KABOOM*
Outside, the sky rumbled again, closer now, the debris from heavy bombardment now hitting the rooftop of the bakery they were in, as the enemy ships inched closer.
"May our souls stain their victory forever,"
The old man said at this moment, as beside him, every man, woman, and child in that shelter stood ready-not for mercy, but for war, as they resolved to die as free men rather than be captured as slaves. (More chapters in Buyers
club for TMT)