Chapter 13: The Night of the Fight
The moon hung high—pale and silent, like the eye of a god watching from above.
Axel stood crouched behind a ruined tree stump, eyes locked on the camp ahead. The firelight flickered against the shadows of the fifteen armed men, the women still shackled nearby, their sobs lost in the drunken laughter echoing from the center.
He didn't need to turn to know his group was behind him. They were quiet—silent as breath—but he felt them.
The plan was simple.
Hank and Mary would circle wide, dragging the trap wire with nails Axel had crafted, setting it just inside the brush line. Jason would take the right side and knock out the power source—the camp had wired lights using a car battery. Emily stayed close to Axel, carrying the distraction: a small jar filled with shards of glass and a smoldering rag wrapped in flammable grease. Rachel had taught them to trust—Axel was about to show them why they never should.
At exactly 2:03 a.m., Axel nodded.
Emily tossed the jar, and it shattered just outside one of the tents. Flames licked up like tongues.
Men shouted.
Confusion.
Axel moved like a shadow. His katana flashed beneath the moonlight—first blood drawn before the enemy even understood what was happening.
One man turned, rifle raised—but too slow.
Axel stepped in and drove his blade through the man's chest. In a breath, he twisted and pulled, spraying blood across the dirt.
Jason plunged the camp into darkness as he ripped out the wires. Cries turned into panic.
Then Mary screamed—not in fear, but as part of the plan—drawing two guards toward her. They stumbled straight into Hank's trap. Nails pierced through boots and flesh. The men dropped, howling. Hank finished them both with the hatchet.
A gun went off.
Emily ducked, heart pounding, but Jason tackled the shooter from behind, wrestling for the weapon until a rock in his hand crushed the man's skull.
Axel stormed the center. His blade moved without hesitation, without mercy. He didn't see enemies—only obstacles. He cut through a trio who charged him blindly, parrying one, slashing the throat of another, finishing the third with a brutal strike to the gut.
Then he saw Rachel.
She stood behind the big man—her supposed "boss." Her face twisted in disbelief.
"You," she whispered.
"You chose the wrong side," Axel said coldly.
The big man stepped forward, massive arms flexing, wielding a spiked bat. "You're dead, little boy."
Axel dropped his katana.
The brute laughed—until Axel lunged with the military knife, ducking the swing and driving the blade under the ribs. The giant roared and grabbed Axel by the throat, but Axel didn't stop—he shoved the blade in deeper.
Blood poured down.
The brute fell.
Rachel tried to run.
Emily blocked her.
She didn't speak. She just stared—until Rachel slapped her, screamed, cried—but Emily didn't move.
Axel walked toward them.
"No…" Rachel begged. "I helped them… I had no choice…"
Axel's voice was like ice. "You made your choice."
She dropped to her knees.
Axel raised his blade—
"Stop," Mary said, stepping forward. "Let her go. She's not worth it."
For a moment, Axel stood still. Then, slowly, he lowered the weapon.
"Bind her," he said. "She lives… but she doesn't walk free."
The camp burned behind them.
Fifteen men—gone.
The enslaved women were freed, the weapons taken, and the camp—now theirs.
Axel didn't need to use the bomb he made
He made it just in case
Axel stood at the center, covered in blood, silent.
Not a hero.
Not a savior.
Just a man playing chess in a world of fire.
---
The dawn light poured softly through the trees as Axel stepped into the center of the newly claimed camp. Smoke rose in fading trails from the smoldering ruins of the night's chaos. Bodies had been cleared. Blood had dried. The silence now was peace—not fear.
One by one, the prisoners—men who had been locked away, beaten, starved—stepped out from the storage shackles. Their eyes darted to the campfire pit, then to the open gates.
Then to Axel.
He didn't speak. He simply nodded to Jason.
Jason, understanding without words, moved to the gutted car on the left side of the lot, reached down, and clipped the wires back to the old battery. The lights snapped on with a sudden hum—electricity flooding through the lines and casting a warm golden glow across the clearing.
Gasps.
Joy.
And then movement—fast and desperate. The freed men ran toward the women who had once been prisoners too. Wives screamed names. Brothers cried out. Arms wrapped around loved ones. Laughter cracked from cracked lips. Some collapsed in the dirt from pure disbelief.
Mary wiped tears from her eyes.
Even Emily smiled.
But Axel… stood still.
His black shirt was still damp with dried blood. His katana hung loosely at his side, but his expression was unreadable. Cold.
Emotionless.
Rachel knelt before him in the dirt. Bound. Bruised. Silent.
Mary moved beside him, voice shaking. "You said you wouldn't kill her. You promised."
Axel didn't turn to her. He didn't blink.
"You're right," he said. "I did."
He stepped forward, and the crowd parted, watching him.
"She sold us," Axel said to the gathered survivors. "She sat on the lap of the man who raped and enslaved your wives, your daughters, your sisters. She walked us into a death trap with a smile."
Rachel whimpered.
Mary placed a hand on his arm. "Axel—don't."
He looked at her, for a brief moment, and whispered coldly, "Why not?"
Without another word, Axel raised his katana—and in one clean, swift motion, brought it down.
Rachel's head fell from her shoulders.
Gasps. Screams.
Mary turned away.
Emily stood frozen.
Hank… didn't even flinch.
Blood pooled in the dirt.
Axel wiped his blade slowly, his eyes scanning the stunned crowd. "Betrayal has a price," he said simply. "And mercy isn't free."
He turned, the katana clicking back into its sheath.
Behind him, silence reigned.
And just like that—Axel had carved a message into the new world.
One no one would forget.
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