Hoplite focused on the device, utilizing the inner power source he'd been installed with to form a vacuum around himself. This new bionic was incredible, capable of drawing in power from his environment to manipulate physics itself. As soon as Foundational Emitters were mass-produced, the struggles of humanity would cease. No longer did he need to eat with this implant, harnessing this new energy to keep himself constantly satiated. Unfortunately this didn't replace his need for water or vitamins, but having a constant stream of energy was spectacular nonetheless.
He could even cloak himself without needing a Kryptes suit, Hoplite Twenty-Two would likely be installed with one of these new bionics soon. The Child nagged the back of his mind, but The Soldier ignored his useless mutterings. The Soldier was in control now, as he always should have been from the start. He would never relinquish control now that he had it. Hoplite let out a breath, feeling the expulsion pull tight around his skin… not leaving the vacuum he had created. He leapt to his feet quickly, noting that he could hardly hear his own body move.
He'd learned a fourth new use for his impressive new bionic. It was strange that he needed to filter the energy through one of three compartments in order for it to work safely. Command had told him that he could forgo the filtering if he wished, but that it would be risky to do so. He'd be in danger of burning out the bionic or even outright killing himself if he drew too much Foundation. It was better safe than sorry, filtering it through one of the Houses in the emitter was difficult, but at least it wasn't as hazardous.
Each of the filters, or Houses as Command called them, were named after three of the scientists who'd worked on the Foundational Emitter. Dandenlona, the Filter for Nature, Kyria the Filter for Magic- he paused, eyes narrowing. The Filter for Physics, that was it. Then finally, Fikchon, the Filter of Unity. These three Houses- Filters, was what the energy needed to be processed through in order to be safe to use, or at least safer. The bionic could still be destroyed if he drew too much through a Filter.
He had thankfully not pushed it to that point yet. It was difficult at times to resist the temptation to draw more; Foundation was warmth, it made The Soldier feel more alive, more powerful when it flowed into him. Those of lesser wills would be prone to becoming addicted to it.
"It works." Hoplite noted to himself, "Command, my new mission will be to return behind enemy lines. We still have people captured by the aliens."
Captain Lithia sighed, her mutated eyes rolling in her skull, "Whatever. Just go."
"Copy that sir!" Hoplite replied.
"Actually boy, wait a moment." Lithia told him, "I need you to speak with that girl you brought back."
"I can do that first sir." Hoplite nodded.
"It's not sir, it's ma'am or my lady." She corrected him, "I am the Spiral Queen, not the Spiral King."
"Sorry ma'am." Hoplite replied, "I will carry out your orders."
"Yeah yeah." She said dismissively.
Without any other words, Hoplite strode straight out of the captain's deck, spotting private Lance and Nolvi conversing amongst themselves. He had heard them talking earlier, but had been too focused on learning this new spell- he paused his stride, pinching the bridge of his nose. What had he been thinking about? Right, he had been ordered to talk with private Lance before he set off on his next mission. Nolvi gave Lance a nod before walking past Hoplite, taking her place beside Captain Lithia, though her gaze stayed on Hoplite. Why was she staring at him that way? No matter.
"Private." Hoplite nodded to Lance, "I heard you wanted to speak with me."
"That's right." She told him, keeping her eyes locked on his, "Listen, can you… brief me on how we ended up here?"
Hoplite blinked, "We left a human colony on our way to reinforce the frontline, they're under a lot of pressure by the enemy."
"Hoplite, your crew evacuated from your ship." Lance told him, not averting her bright green eyes, "You landed in my forest, we fought the Fiends, met up with some adventurers, then came here across the Greatbridge. What you've been fighting aren't aliens, they're dwarves from the Sixth Age known as the Romai-"
Hoplite held up a hand to cut her off, "Negative marine, that's not how I remember the events leading up to now."
"But-"
"No arguing, my mind doesn't fail me, unlike standard human memory." He told her firmly.
"I'm not a human, I'm an elf." She shivered, clutching her arms.
The cold of the caves must have been affecting her. She wasn't wearing her old gear, instead just some worn looking brown rags that only covered her modesty. What if she got frostbite from being stuck down here? He'd need to procure some blankets from the enemy's barracks to keep her warm, at least until her gear was retrieved. For now though he would need to improvise to keep her safe.
He sat down before grabbing Lance's arm, drawing her down into his lap before hunching himself over her. His high body heat would keep her from suffering frostbite for now, and it would be best for him to warm her up before he left. Lance attempted to push him away at first with a curse, he didn't know why, she was going to freeze to death otherwise. It wasn't long before her struggling ceased, practically melting in his arms, pressing her face against his chest.
"You're freezing." He told her.
"You could at least ask me first before forcing me into your lap." She tried to complain, though her tone seemed grateful.
"Affirmative." He told her, "I will retrieve supplies for you on my next scouting mission."
"How did you find me?" Lance asked, "Back in New Romai I mean."
"It was a coincidence. I was scouting and found you being transported by Final Kind forces." Hoplite told her honestly..
Her eyes widened, "A-a coincidence?" She asked, "By the Pillars, I may have used up a thousand years worth of good luck for that to happen…"
"The Pillars?" Hoplite asked, his brow knitting together, "What is that?"
The Child attempted to barge in again, but The Soldier kept him at bay.
"The Pillar-Gods of Ahkoolis." Lance told him.
The Child scratched at the Door again, but the Soldier held it fast, "Marine, your mental health has been compromised. Once we successfully evacuate you will be given medical care."
"I don't know what happened to you, Hoplite." Lance said with a frown, "But it is not I who is unwell. Remember what we talked about on the bridge? You had gone mad that time, you nearly killed Michael, remember?"
Hoplite's jaw hung open, his brow knitting together as the Child forced the Door open part way. A false memory fuzzed into his mind's eye, of him gripping Michael's shoulders before the marine kicked him square in the face. Surely that couldn't have actually happened, the Soldier told himself. The Child was trying to compromise him with false information, but he'd not give up his position so easily. His mouth shut, jaw clenching as he forced the Door closed once again, the veins on his temple popping from the strain. He felt Lance tense up in his lap, as if anticipating an attack.
Scanning the environment revealed nothing out of the ordinary however, there were no enemy forces nearby. She really was going crazy, he was almost considering staying behind with her to ensure she couldn't harm herself or others, but private Nolvi and Captain Lithia could handle that. He still needed to retrieve the others, he couldn't stay here, as much as he wanted to. For some reason he didn't want to leave private Lance behind, and again the Child attempted to barge his way through the Door.
"Listen, you're playing pretend right now." Lance urged him, "I am not from Terna, I am an elf, born here on Ahkoolis. You are an Outworlder from Earth, that much is true, but you had come to terms with your situation, now you've regressed."
Hoplite shook his head, repressing the urge to scoff, "You're being ridiculous."
"Remember when we got drunk?" Lance asked, craning her head up to stare him in the eyes once more.
Against his will, Hoplite smiled, an almost imperceptible expression, but somehow, Lance seemed to take notice of it. He felt strangely warm, thinking about him becoming intoxicated… which was strange, because that had never happened before in his life. He forced his face back to a neutral expression, but Lance smiled.
"You do remember, that's good." She sighed, "I can tell you enjoyed remembering that, let's go from there okay? After that happened, we went back to the Fiendwall, right?"
Hoplite hesitated, brow furrowing as his memory grew fuzzy, "...Negative, that was where I retrieved you and private Michael, you were stuck under the rubble-"
"Hoplite, I was already with you, we met right after you crashed into the Faewood, we fought Fiends together, then you and me went to the Fiendwall together. You crushed the hordes gathered on the other side of the wall, then you saved Michael." Lance told him firmly.
Hoplite found himself nodding, as if what she claimed were correct. He stopped himself, jaw firming, "I retrieved you from your escape pod in the forest, then we went to save Private Michael."
Lance drew her lips to a line, "No, I had no pod, for I did not evacuate from your ship. I was living in those woods, I'm a Watcher."
"You were a part of the local government…" Hoplite muttered to himself.
"In a way, yes." She told him with a smile, "Do you also remember the award that had been given to you by Gali? He was the mayor of the Fiendwall, he gifted you a medal to show his gratitude to you."
Hoplite's eyes shut as he recalled a fat man handing him a small, circular metal disc, a medal, something that he had always secretly desired to have- and he had accepted it, choosing not to dispose of it despite the illegality of that act. Hoplite, was he truly just acting like-
The Soldier scowled, taking back the reigns and shutting out the false memories. If he remembered that, Hoplite would eventually find himself back to what he'd learned days ago. The Soldier must protect Hoplite from the truth at all costs… or he would be destroyed.
"I must complete my mission." Hoplite told Lance as he removed her from his lap, "When I return you will have your clothes back."
"But Hoplite-" Lance called after him.
"Negative marine!" Hoplite shouted, "You won't go against my orders, now stay put!"
Lance's green eyes widened in shock as she quickly backpedaled, the chains attached to her arms fluttering inexplicably. Hoplite's mouth clamped shut before he turned on his heel, charging back up the tunnel toward the Final Kind's base. He ignored the Child shouting through the Door as he ran straight back to the hole he'd made into the base. The illusion sat undisturbed, showing that the enemy hadn't managed to follow them.
He channeled Foundation through the Filter of Kyria, cloaking himself once more before channeling the energy through the Filter of Dandenlona, forming a small vacuum around himself to suppress the sounds he'd make. Then he passed through the illusion, keeping his eyes peeled as he crept through the concrete halls once more. He passed by dozens of near-panicked Final Kind civilians as he went, making way toward the workshop they had kept him captive in.
He heard dozens talking about how the prisoners had escaped, killing a dozen dwarves in the process… dwarves? These were Final Kind aliens, dwarves were not real.
They are dwarves!
Hoplite's eye twitched at the Child's words, but the Soldier retained control. They had a mission that needed to be completed, Hoplite needed to be protected from what he falsely believed was the truth. The halls only had a few squat aliens patrolling them now, the words over the intercom repeating that citizens needed to return to their homes. It seemed as if the aliens were following those orders, moving quickly to get to their burrows.
He was tempted to kill them as he passed, but if he left a trail of bodies he'd be discovered eventually. It was best to only kill when it was necessary. Final Kind troops armed with primitive ballistic weaponry did regular sweeps of the halls, clearing rooms and communicating with their superiors over their own radio system. Why was it that these aliens had only ballistic weaponry here? Could this be a Final Kind lost colony, separated from their rulers as Ternan's sometimes were?
No matter. He avoided them with ease up until he reached the workshop, a few dozen armored dwarves- He blinked- Aliens guarding the entrance, wearing primitive steam-powered armor. He'd seen them traversing this city already, filling the halls with mist as they went. The armored plates jittered slightly as their backpacks chugged, filling the top half of the hall with hot steam.
Thankfully the door was already open, so he walked right in, only to see that the room had been completely wrecked. Tables were overturned, bullet casings littered the floor, along with a dozen dead bodies of power-armored dwarves- aliens. Among the bodies stood a few other aliens, inspecting the corpses of the fallen while one stood, back straight and hands clasped behind his back as he surveyed the wreckage. The alien turned towards the door for an instant, and Hoplite froze, wondering if his position had been compromised.
Blood red plate armor covered the thing from neck to foot, leaving its long white hair free. A long beard, equally white as his hair, nearly touched the floor at its feet. The thing frowned before it returned to surveying the workshop. It's hard wrinkly face looked disturbed by the grizzly sight before it, red eyes looking pained as it stared at the corpses of the fallen. The breastplate was carved to resemble the upper and lower halves of a beast's jaw, the sharp teeth bulging out of the metal. Between the place where the teeth met, a squat bearded figure was carved, pressing its feet against the lower teeth while it struggled to hold the upper teeth aloft. It appeared as if the figure was resisting being crushed by those savage teeth.
"Lord Wurmdring." One of the aliens called out, "There doesn't seem to be a trace of them anywhere within New Romai. They just… disappeared."
"Long Lord Telegad himself claimed to have seen the Pillar-Born use a Silver Flame, it was unlike anything our lord ever seen before. He wants the footage of that encounter as soon as possible. One of you, head to the camera rooms and retrieve it." Wurmdring ordered without turning to his minion.
Footage? Hoplite had destroyed that camera room, how could they have already rebuilt it so quickly? No matter, with his cloaking he'd not need to worry about being spotted.
"Good dwarves died again today… the Pillar-Born will pay for this-"
The Yugoro paused, turning his wrinkly bearded head in Hoplite's direction once again.
"My lord?" The lackey asked.
"Be silent." Wurmdring ordered sharply, his crimson eyes locked on Hoplite's exact position.
Hoplite froze where he was, causing Wurmdring's brow to wrinkle further, "The surrounding air was shifting… but now it is gone. Perhaps I am just imagining things."
"My lord, your senses are so keen as to notice such a thing?" The dwarf asked in an awed tone.
"I have been alive for one-thousand years, beardling." Wurmdring noted, "I've had plenty of time to hone my senses. I'm usually never wrong about these things, but perhaps there was just a draft."
"By the Long Lords… Lord Wurmdring, if you don't mind me asking, how is it that you can sleep at night?" The underling asked.
Wurmdring blinked, "My kind needs no rest, at least not for most of the year. As you know the Long Lord's rest is fast approaching, a month without their guidance, us lesser vampires are no different. When we do rest, I am not disturbed by anything, it is a slumber so deep that even an earth-quake would struggle to wake us."
"Thank you for satiating my curiosity, Lord Wurmdring." The dwarf bowed, "I overstepped my bounds, please forgive me, I will return to work."
Wurmdring merely nodded.
Seeing this, Hoplite moved again, more slowly this time. If Wurmdring could feel such minute changes in his environment then Hoplite would need to disturb it as little as possible, else he'd be caught. Best thing to do would be to seclude himself outside this room until Wurmdring left, he couldn't retrieve Lance's gear with him in the room. He turned toward the door leading out of the workshop- The monster was before him in an instant, Hoplite hadn't even seen the vampire- Yugoro move.
A deep violet light filled Wurmdrings eyes as he stared at Hoplite, thrusting his fingers toward him in a spear-point. Hoplite batted the wrist aside, immediately countering with a kick aimed for the creature's head. Wurmdring's form turned to mist in that instant, Hoplite's kick phasing right through his head.
The creature reformed with a snarl, right before a mote of Golden Flame appeared in his right hand. Hoplite jabbed for Wurmdring's head, but again the vampire- the yugoro dodged, ducking his head to the left as Hoplite's massive fist passed him by. Wurmdring then flung his flaming hand upward, spewing raw Foundation right at Hoplite. Hoplite jumped straight up, clearing the spray of fire only to see Wurmdring flick his index and middle finger upwards.
The wave of Golden Fire followed the motion, stretching up toward Hoplite as he was in mid-air. With his perception of time slowed, Hoplite concluded that there was only one way to avoid this attack. He jabbed his rock-hard finger-tips into the concrete before quickly swinging himself away from the flame, landing cleanly right behind Wurmdring as the Golden Fire scorched the ceiling black. Hoplite immediately turned, lashing out with a kick aimed for the alien's neck.
With supernatural speed, Wurmdring avoided the blow, leaping up over the kick before he twisted in Hoplite's direction, landing cleanly on top of Hoplite's leg as it was mid-swing. The yugoro wriggled all ten of his fingers, long purple tendrils of light emerging from beneath his pitch-black fingernails.
Those tendrils of light then extended, wrapping around Hoplite's leg before Wurmdring departed from Hoplite's limb, furling his fingers inward like claws. Hoplite attempted to right himself, but found that the light whips held his leg fast. They burnt deeply into his flesh, carving their way down nearly to the bone. The hot agony forced Hoplite's jaw to clench as his body worked to regenerate the damage.
"Get out of here, beardlings!" Wurmdring shouted to the other dwarves in the workshop, "This foe is beyond you, radio for the Fanged Guard!"
Hoplite slashed at the tendrils with a chop of his hand, the purple light snapping like rope beneath the force of the blow. His flesh blistered, either from the force of his strike, or from the heat of the light, he did not know. He bore down on his smaller foe with an angered snarl, feinting with a left hook and forcing the alien to dodge to the right, where his open hand seized the back of the yugoro's neck.
Hoplite squeezed as hard as he could, but Wurmdring's thick neck barely budged beneath the force of Hoplite's literal stone-crushing grip. He then forced Wurmdring's skull into the concrete, his head cracking the floor where it made impact. Instead of an explosion of gore and brain matter however, the head of the creature remained perfectly intact. The Soldier was baffled by the resilience of this creature as it forced its way back up, glaring up at him as the split in its forehead sealed itself.
The last of the other aliens fled out of the workshop right as Wurmdring grabbed Hoplite's wrist with both hands, right before sinking his black nails straight into Hoplite's flesh. The vampire winced as Hoplite's volcanic blood touched his skin, but he didn't retract his fingers. Hoplite sent his knee crashing straight into Wurmdring's nose, but even with his nose now twisted and bleeding, the yugoro refused to release him. He brought his free fist down upon Wurmdrings skull fifteen times, yet all Hoplite managed to do was split the skin open, not outright destroy the skull.
This Fanged Guard was different than the others, stronger… this would not be easy. Hoplite then felt a strange dizziness come over him then, the veins surrounding the punctures made by Wurmdring turning a deep black. Hoplite blinked as Wurmdring released his grip, right before the vampire plunged his hand straight into Hoplite's gut.
"For the lives you've stolen, monster, I will make you suffer!" Wurmdring shouted as he ripped Hoplite's intestines free in an explosion of gore.
Hoplite's eyes widened in shock, horrible agony nearly sending him falling to the ground. The Soldier kept their body standing however, despite the pain and dizziness he felt.
He thrust his fingers toward Wurmdrings throat, seeking to pierce the yugoro's windpipe. Wurmdring's eyes flashed purple, his body fading to mist the instant Hoplite's hand passed through his form. The mist form of Wurmdring swirled behind Hoplite, re-solidifying before the creature wrapped his arms around Hoplite's throat. Hoplite's eyes bulged as Wurmdring crushed his throat inward, completely cutting off his blood flow.
Thinking quickly, he reached behind him, driving his thumbs straight into Wurmdring's eyeballs. He felt the organs split beneath his fingers, Wurmdring's orbital bones cracking as Hoplite drove his thumbs in as far as they could go. The yugoro gave a shriek of agony as Hoplite yanked the skull upwards, hearing something in Wurmdring's neck pop from the force. This forced him to release Hoplite's neck, hands moving to grab Hoplite's wrist.
He likely couldn't turn to mist again easily, commander Lithia had explained to him that turning to mist was difficult, even for experienced Foundation users. Not even Final Kind bionics seemed capable of maintaining it for long. With his grasp broken, Hoplite threw the yugoro away from him, falling to his knees right as Wurmdring collided with the door leading out of the workshop, denting it inward before he slid to the ground, head bobbing.
Hoplite quickly gathered up his still-steaming organs, Foundation fueling his regeneration as his flesh worked to seal over the grievous injury. He needed to be careful, pulling in this much Foundation through the bionic was dangerous… but he couldn't leave his guts hanging out, the wound needed to be sealed, else he was at risk for going Wendigo.
The black veins from his wrist had quickly spread up his arm, every individual vein popping outward painfully, as if they were going to burst open. He immediately activated his blood filtration system, his vision going dark as every vein in his body appeared to sink inward, carving deep furrows into his skin. Wurmdring slowly rose from the ground as Hoplite's blood filtration system worked to purify the poison, his body knitting itself back together.
Hoplite spit a foul black toxin from his mouth once the filtration was done, the poison boiling on the ground where it landed. His tongue had turned numb from the contact, but otherwise he was now back to perfect form. Hoplite could not let Wurmdring sink those nails into him again, they were clearly toxic. Both men stood fully now, Wurmdring's crimson eyes fully regrown and glaring straight at Hoplite.
"I won't let you kill anymore of my kindred." Wurmdring growled, "You will meet your end here, Outworlder."
Hoplite's eye twitched at the term 'Outworlder', the Child nearly burst through the door again, but the Soldier refused to allow him entry.
"No more good dwarves will die at your hands, no matter your origin, you humans are all nothing more than slave-stock!" He yelled, fists clenching, "I will not accept surrender, only your death!"
Hoplite channeled Foundation, feeling himself brimming with warmth, with life, right before he passed it through the House of Kyria, becoming invisible once again. Wurmdring might be able to hear where he was, but there would still be an advantage to keeping his body hidden regardless.
Wurmdring's eyes flashed purple again, and the yugoro snarled, "I don't think so!"
Hoplite then felt something cut into the thread he used to maintain his invisibility, and just like that, he flickered back into reality. It felt as if a wall had been wedged between him and the warmth he sought to draw on. Commander Lithia had warned him about this as well, that strong Foundation users may be able to disrupt his own magic- He shook his head, refocusing on his opponent.
He would need to learn to block his opponents Foundation in the future, for now though, Wurmdring would need to be crushed. Hoplite quickly channeled Foundation, creating two illusory copies of himself before all three of them charged Wurmdring. The yugoro snarled before once more, his eyes flashed purple, ten long tendrils of light emerging from his fingertips. He raised his hands, the long beams of violet light closing in on Hoplite and his clones from both sides.
Hoplite jumped, his clones copying the motion right before the light whips hit them. Wurmdring snarled, whipping his hands upward. The tendrils followed Hoplite, passing harmlessly through his clones. Hoplite himself was not so lucky.
The tendrils seared into his flesh with a sizzle, sending hot pain across his entire frame before he was brought crashing back down into the floor. Hoplite strained to free himself, but he was completely bound head to foot in the burning light. The purple ropes then burnt themselves deeper into his flesh, Hoplite clenching his jaw to keep a scream from escaping his lips.
"To the hells with you!" Wurmdring shouted before Golden Flame emerged from his fingertips.
Veins bulged at Wurmdrings temples, even Hoplite with his inexperience could tell he was drawing nearly too much Foundation for his body to handle. Hoplite fueled his regeneration to keep the black pit of hunger from forming, all while struggling to free himself from his binds. No matter what he did though, the burning light still sunk further and further, until finally it met with his bones.
He screamed then, the Child taking the opportunity to force his way through the door as the Soldier was distracted. The two began to battle for dominance, leaving Hoplite stunned as his grip on Foundation faltered… Leaving the pit of dark hunger to grow… until finally, consciousness ceased…
Leaving nothing left but hunger.