Survive

Satria turned quickly, using the momentum of his movement to strike at his opponent's wrist. The branch leader, a burly man with a face full of scars, did not anticipate such a swift counterattack. As an experienced fighter, he was accustomed to facing tough opponents. However, this time was different. Before he could react, Satria's dagger had already plunged deep into his wrist, causing him to lose his grip on his sword.

The sword fell to the ground with a sharp clang, the sound echoing in the large, empty room. The branch leader's eyes widened, reflecting a mix of shock and intense pain. He had spent his entire life on the battlefield, but never before had he felt such unexpected power. He watched the blood flow from his wrist, mingling with the dust on the floor, and for the first time, he realized that he might have underestimated his opponent.

Satria, despite being injured and exhausted, gave no time for thought. With the instincts of a trained fighter, he lunged forward, launching a series of relentless attacks with his dagger. Each strike was aimed at vital points on his opponent's body—throat, ribs, and abdomen. The branch leader, who had lost his balance and grip on his sword, could not effectively defend himself. Satria's rapid and lethal attacks forced him to retreat, losing his footing and control.

The branch leader struggled to fight back. With his free left hand, he tried to block Satria's attacks and throw counterpunches. However, the pain radiating from his injured wrist slowed his movements. His body, once so tough and impenetrable, now felt weak and vulnerable. Every time he attempted to strike, Satria skillfully dodged and retaliated with even faster and harder blows.

This fight was not just about physical strength; it was a mental battle. Satria knew well that he could not allow the branch leader to regain his confidence. If his opponent recovered, Satria knew his chance of winning would be lost. So, with every ounce of strength remaining, Satria kept up the pressure, pouring every last bit of energy into each attack.

One final strike from Satria, a sharp and determined thrust, landed squarely in the branch leader's chest. The man staggered, his face paling as blood began to soak his clothes. His eyes, once filled with rage and confidence, now only reflected confusion and disbelief. His large body finally collapsed to the ground, gasping in a pool of his own blood.

Satria stood over his helpless opponent, the dagger in his hand dripping with blood. He steadied his breath, trying to calm the racing heartbeat in his chest. Pain began to spread throughout his body, particularly in his shoulder and side where he had been stabbed. He knew that he had won, but this victory came at a great cost.

His body, already gravely injured from the start, could no longer bear the weight. Satria fell to his knees, the opponent's sword lying next to him, blurred in his fading vision. His consciousness slowly faded, as if the world around him was drifting away. In his half-conscious state, his mind wandered back to the past—to moments when he was still in training, learning that victory was not just about defeating the enemy but also about surviving.

His blurry eyes gazed around, seeing the room filled with destruction. The cracked walls, the blood-soaked floor, and the debris scattered everywhere were silent witnesses to the battle that had just taken place. But the most striking thing in his sight was a figure approaching quickly. It was a woman with long black hair neatly tied back, wearing a military uniform. Satria recognized her as Aruna, one of the military officers who had worked with him on several covert missions.

Aruna, with steady and quick steps, quickly arrived at Satria's side. She knelt down, examining Satria's condition with a serious gaze. As a trained military member, Aruna knew how to handle emergency situations like this. Seeing Satria's critical state, she swiftly contacted the medical team that had been prepared outside. Aruna had been ordered not to intervene in the fight, but now that the battle was over, her duty was to ensure that Satria stayed alive.

"Hold on, Satria. You've come too far to give up now," Aruna whispered firmly, trying to stay calm despite seeing Satria's dire condition. Her words, though soft, radiated the resolve that had become her trademark. She knew that this was not just about life and death, but also about pride and honor. Satria had fought hard to reach this point, and Aruna would not let his efforts go to waste.

It didn't take long for the medical team to arrive. They quickly administered emergency treatment, setting up an IV and stopping the bleeding from Satria's largest wounds. Even though they worked quickly and efficiently, Aruna did not leave Satria's side. She kept him conscious, though it was difficult, by talking to him, providing moral support. "Remember your purpose, Satria. We still have much work to do," she said with a calm yet determined voice.

However, Aruna's efforts seemed in vain. Satria could no longer respond, his consciousness completely fading as they lifted his body onto a stretcher and carried him out of the battleground now filled with destruction. Aruna's eyes followed them with concern, but she knew this wasn't the end. Satria was a tough fighter, and she had seen him rise from worse situations before.

As they took Satria away, Aruna stood there for a moment, gazing at the battlefield that had just ended. The cracked ground, flowing blood, and scattered debris bore silent witness to the fight that had just occurred. This battle was one of the toughest she had ever witnessed, and Aruna knew that this was just the beginning of something bigger. The military, the force they served under, would not stop until their goals were achieved, and Satria was a crucial part of their grand plan.

With a mind full of thoughts, Aruna finally turned and walked out of the room. She knew she had to report the outcome of this fight to their superiors, but she also knew that the most important thing now was to ensure that Satria received the care he needed. Satria might be gravely wounded, but he was still alive, and as long as he was breathing, there was still hope.

Outside the room, the medical team had already prepared transport to take Satria to a secret medical facility owned by the Military. Aruna climbed into the vehicle, sitting beside Satria who lay unconscious. Inside the vehicle, Aruna felt an odd silence. Although the fight had just ended, the tension still lingered in the air. She looked out the window, watching the city they passed through, a city that appeared calm on the surface but was full of secrets and intrigue beneath.

Satria, lying on the stretcher with his body full of wounds, symbolized their struggle—a battle against forces larger and darker. Aruna knew that they were all pawns in a bigger game, but they also knew that they had an important role in determining the outcome. The Military might be strong, but without people like Satria, they were just shadows without substance.

Aruna closed her eyes for a moment, trying to calm her racing thoughts. She had to stay focused. This fight might be over, but a bigger battle still awaited. And in the midst of it all, Satria had to survive, because his role was far from over.