God Of Last Regret

Chapter 6: Infiltration Gone Wrong

Dusk came on slow and heavy, painting the ravine in bruised purples and grays. Kael fell in behind Lirael’s small crew as they slipped out, his bad leg already complaining with every uneven step. The minor boost he’d felt before had worn off completely, leaving him raw and off-balance, like he was still borrowing someone else’s body. Mira moved ahead of him, silent as smoke. No one said much. They never did when he was around.

Two nights of hard travel brought them to the Legion outpost. It wasn’t much just a cluster of timber buildings and a rough palisade wall stuck in a clearing like an ugly scar. Torchlight flickered along the top, and a couple of watchtowers loomed over it all. Thirty soldiers, maybe. Enough.

Lirael crouched beside him in the brush, her voice barely a breath. “Courier tent’s the squat one in the middle, attached to the captain’s quarters. You go alone. We hit the east gate as a distraction in twenty. Get the dispatches. Bring the captain back breathing. No noise. No mistakes.” Her green eyes pinned him. “And for once, Kael… don’t be stupid.”

He gave her a tight nod and moved off before she could say anything else that might crawl under his skin.

The climb over the wall hurt more than it should have. His fingers dug into the rough wood, leg screaming as he dropped inside. The compound smelled of damp earth, smoke, and horse shit. He kept low, sliding between stacks of crates and the backs of tents, heart thumping steady in his ears. One guard walked so close Kael could’ve reached out and touched him. He held his breath until the man passed.

Inside the courier tent, everything felt too easy at first. He sliced the rear canvas and slipped through. Scrolls and sealed letters covered the desk like fallen leaves. He stuffed them into the satchel maps, orders, troop movements, the works. His fingers closed around a heavy leather tube stamped with the Iron General’s mark. That one felt important.

Then a voice behind him, cold and sharp.

“You.”

Kael whipped around. The captain stood there in the doorway, sword already halfway out. Recognition hit the man’s face like a slap.

“The temple butcher. Limping devil who tore through our commander. It’s you.”

Shouts exploded outside before Kael could shut him up.

Everything went to hell.

He slammed into the captain, driving him back into the quarters. Steel clashed loud enough to wake the dead. The man knew how to fight hard, trained strokes but Kael’s runes burned under his skin and the power came rushing in jagged waves. He cut fast and ugly, opening the captain’s arm, cracking something in his side. Blood sprayed across the canvas walls. Outside, boots pounded toward them. The east gate distraction finally lit up, but it was too little, too late.

Kael hauled the groaning captain out the back, satchel banging against his hip. Mira appeared like a ghost, knives flashing as she covered him. “Move, damn it!”

The fight turned brutal. He dropped two soldiers with vicious thrusts, crippled another who tried to flank. The red haze licked at the edges of his mind, tempting him to just let go and carve through them all. But he held it back, barely. Each strike felt right and wrong at the same time strong, ruthless, but controlled enough that he didn’t lose himself completely. Still, the drain hit hard. His leg buckled once and he nearly ate dirt.

They were almost at the wall when the kid appeared.

Young. Maybe seventeen or eighteen. Spear trembling in his hands, eyes wide with pure terror. He blocked their path, voice cracking as he yelled for help. Same scared look as that soldier from the first skirmish.

The haze surged. Kill him. Quick. Clean.

Kael’s grip tightened. For a second he wanted to. It would’ve been easier. Safer. Instead he stepped in, twisted the spear away, and cracked the hilt of his sword against the boy’s temple. The kid dropped like a sack of grain breathing, but out cold.

“Idiot!” Mira snarled, yanking him toward the breach in the wall.

Arrows whistled past as they ran. The captain’s blood soaked Kael’s shoulder, warm and sticky. They crashed through the treeline with Lirael’s team laying down covering fire. No one stopped moving until the sky started to pale and the outpost was far behind them.

The mood back at camp was poison.

Lirael stood waiting by the big tent, arms folded so tight her knuckles showed white. Kael dumped the satchel and the half-conscious captain at her feet. The man let out a weak groan.

She flipped through the documents, jaw working. Then her eyes lifted, cold as winter steel.

“You got the intel,” she said, voice flat. “But the whole damn outpost saw your face. Your limp. The way you fight. You were supposed to be invisible, Kael. A shadow. Not a walking alarm bell.”

Kael wiped blood off his cheek. The old scar there burned like it remembered every mistake. His whole body felt wrung out, headache already creeping back in.

“I got what you asked for,” he said. “Captain’s alive. Mission done.”

Lirael stepped closer, fury sharpening every word. “Barely done. Garr watched from the ridge you spared another one. A boy who’ll describe you down to the scar on your face. How many patrols will come looking now because you couldn’t finish the job? Their blood will be on your hands next time.”

The System pinged in his head, mechanical and distant:

[Shadow Agent Trial: Partial Success.]

[Essence Gained. Vessel Integration: 22%.]

[Level Up: Level 3 Achieved.]

[New Minor Trait Unlocked: Echo Strike – Once per day, amplify a single strike with stored momentum. Side effect: Increased neural strain.]

He barely felt the new power settle in. Just another crack in something already broken.

“I’m not turning into a monster for you,” Kael muttered. “Not again. I got the job done my way.”

Lirael’s laugh was short and bitter. “Your way almost got us killed. Mercy is a disease out here. The Legion won’t return the favor.” She turned away, snapping orders to secure the prisoner. “Next time you hesitate, I’ll put you down myself.”

Mira lingered for a second, then shook her head. “You fight like the old stories, Kael. But caring… that’s gonna get you buried.”

Kael limped back to his spot by the boulder and dropped down hard. The camp felt smaller now, the whispers sharper. He rubbed his temples as the headache bloomed full force. Level 3. A little stronger. Still glitching. Still wrong.

The wind moved through the ravine, carrying the faint smell of rain. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the stone.

Another chance. Don’t let me fuck it up this time.

But deep down, he already knew the mistakes were stacking higher than he could carry.