George realized he had made a mistake, a fatal one at that. His strategy had been perfect, and the same went for his execution. He had surpassed his limits by leaps and bounds, improving as a swordsman in the process.
Yet, George had also built that strategy upon a flawed foundation. He had believed the bald alien had already shown most of his power and abilities, which turned out to be wrong.
Of course, George had accounted for and had been ready for variables, but the evolved warrior had also been perfect. His sneaky counterattack couldnāt have had better timing. That truth was so evident that even Georgeās subconscious realized it.
Georgeās arms had moved on their own throughout the battle, but remained still now. His entire being understood how hopeless his predicament was, making any attempt to escape it pointless.
The silver blade rested on the alienās seemingly scaled head, unable to pierce that tough defense. Meanwhile, the black sword coming out of the evolved warriorās torso had already reached the center of Georgeās chest and was less than a second away from piercing it.
Evolved warriors existed past their physical limits, fearing injuries to their existence more than those to their flesh and organs.
However, George didnāt belong to that realm. His sharpness might affect superior existences, and the mutagen had also improved his physical stats, but he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he would die once the black sword pierced his chest.
āI should have really fooled around for a few more decades,ā George cursed, his perception of time slowing down in that instant before his death, stretching it to allow more thoughts.
A mental curse accompanied that thought. Despite Georgeās best efforts, his mind couldnāt dwell on such hedonistic, superficial pleasures at all. Very different images filled his reptilian vision, adding colors that the mutagen had robbed him of.
Among all the mindless sex, exhilarating drunken nights, and incredible excesses, George ended up recalling a seemingly random, simple, and quiet moment.
George had been on a vast and comfortable bed that night, and, for reasons he couldnāt remember, Michael had decided to hop on it, ultimately falling asleep.
Anita was also in that nostalgic, peaceful scene. She was less pregnant than she was now, but her slightly bloated belly was already visible while she slept sideways at Georgeās side, their son lying between them.
And that was it. That was all Georgeās brain could muster now that death was coming. It didnāt even bother to picture Anita naked, but George knew he wanted nothing more in the world. He had forsaken his place on the battlefield years ago, making that silent but cozy bed his new home.
āWhat Iād give to get back there and be done with all this stuff,ā George mentally sighed, finding no reason to deny his true desires during his last moments.
Despite Georgeās best efforts, he had truly become a decent man. All his teasing, joking, and complaining had no honesty behind it. He loved his married, peaceful life and wouldnāt trade it for anything in the world.
Nevertheless, being a decent man meant upholding specific duties, especially for someone in Georgeās position. He wasnāt a simple husband and father. His family had elected him Patriarch, and his status in the allied front surpassed even that.
As much as George wished to be a simple family man and, at most, fool around with friends, he simply couldnāt. He couldnāt yet, at least. As long as the Scarlet Eyesā threat existed, the universe needed him for one reason or another.
Still, the battle against the bald, evolved warrior had shown an irrefutable truth. George could hold his own against the Scarlet Eyesā warriors, and probably even defeat one, but that was his limit. In his current state, he was inconsequential to the state of the battlefield.
āI really hoped doing this would have kept me away from the battlefield forever,ā George mentally cursed. āOne battle, one kill, and commanding behind a desk for the rest of this war. What a good plan that was.ā
Of course, that had never been the idea behind Georgeās intervention, but it was a possibility, especially after confirming that he was outclassed. That wasnāt his world anymore. He didnāt belong there and didnāt want to belong.
āI wish I could have seen my daughter,ā George realized. āSheāll be the envy of every Princess, just like my little lady-killer will make them all fall for him. Such cheat genes.ā
Pride inevitably spread through Georgeās mind. He couldnāt have asked for a better wife and children. He was sure his daughter would be perfect, too. He was also certain she would be safe.
āYou could have tried to come back a little earlier,ā George mentally sighed, his thoughts moving elsewhere, going toward the only other person outside his family that could appear in his mind during those last moments.
The brother-in-arms who had accompanied George ever since they were little more than kids would keep his family safe. That wasnāt in question. If anything, George almost felt bad for anyone who even thought about doing something fishy.
āI almost feel bad for these aliens, too,ā George mentally chuckled. āThey have no idea what they have unleashed by killing me.ā
The black tip had pierced Georgeās skin by then, making its way through his rib cage.
āJust make sure to listen to Liiza,ā George thought. āShe knows itās not your fault. Believe her like you always do.ā
A different, less experienced, or unfulfilled man would be overwhelmed by unwillingness in those final moments. Still, George found no point in souring his feelings over matters he couldnāt affect or change.
George knew his death was set in stone. He would need a proper miracle to get out of that predicament in one piece, and that wistful thinking had no place on the battlefield.
Therefore, George only focused on the good, knowing that he couldnāt have been happier about his life. He would die a fulfilled man, certain that his only desire was more time to enjoy what he already had.
However, something suddenly materialized between George and the burly warrior. Rodney appeared out of nowhere, his bloodied hand already closed on the rising black sword, delaying its advance, giving George the time to complete his slash.