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Max burn. More flares. More evasive maneuvers. Both of the drones on his shoulders were broken, but he deployed them anyway. They just fell out of the sky, but that was fine. Anything to pull the damn thing off of him.

Still didn't work, though.

The mini-missiles were his best hope now, but he'd only get one good chance. They didn't have an AIM's range, speed, or tracking accuracy. If he deployed them too soon, that was it. If he deployed them too late, that was it. If the soul-strengthening somehow allowed the AIM to withstand their barrage, that was it.

Mind racing, he waited. Six seconds left. Five. Four. Three.

He loosed the mini-missiles.

They hit.

The AIM exploded.

The blast was close--and just as powerful as he'd feared. It rocked the sky, catching him with the edge of its radius and spiking him toward the ground.

So many system alerts. More than ever.

He was barely conscious of anything other than the fact that he was falling. Where had that missile come from? Where was he going?

Worwal was talking. Telling him he had to do something.

He hit the ground and left a running crater, an elongated trench, before finally grinding to a halt.

The suit was smoldering. Smoke and heat. Beeping, sizzling, crackling.

He tried to move and found it difficult. Still disoriented. Suit resisting him, too.

Another alert appeared on the visor, flickering harder now.

"Incoming AIM," it read again.

He just blinked at it, scarcely able to comprehend what he was seeing. A second one?

Worwal was talking again, telling him to move, among other murky things.

He was probably right.

Abbas struggled. Head was clearing but not fast enough. Needed to get up. Disorientation was probably affecting the suit's responsiveness. Missile contact imminent. Eleven seconds. Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Fi--

It was gone. The tracking dot disappeared. Visor malfunction?

No.

He sensed someone there. Nearby. Then he saw them.

An armored figure. Not like his. Old. Medieval.

Was that... a knight?

Why was there a knight standing over him? Did that missile hit him so hard that he went back in time?

"Get up, Lord Abbas." The knight reached a hand toward him. "Fight's not done yet. And we're gonna need you."

By the gods, those words cut into his mind like a friendly knife. Clarity returned almost immediately. Almost involuntarily, even.

And he took the knight's hand.