But even in dark times
Traitors to the Human Race emerged
Who bowed to the hellish spawn
And swore a shameful allegiance
And they began to aid the Enemy in ruling Humanity
And their name is—Traitors of the Human Race
"Book of Sorrow"
Verse XVII
There was no point in running to the scene. I'd gained a couple dozen energy units, but my reserve still languished in the red zone. No enhancements would work, and without them, I simply wouldn't make it in time.
What happened to the group didn't matter right now. Most likely, Nox and his son convinced Irma I wasn't coming back. That they needed to save themselves and move on. That there was no sense waiting at the threshold of the saving trail for a pitiful stranger who'd caused all their troubles.
That was the simplest scenario. The BAS offered others with lower probabilities: a predator attack, a sudden enemy assault, a meeting with Irma's kin… and a few more too negligible to consider.
No panic set in. The order of my plans just shifted slightly. Now my hands were completely untied. I was almost certain the third member of the scout group I'd taken out had already reported their findings. High chance it was their leader.
I reached that conclusion after inspecting the bodies. The Raiders' weapons weren't much different from what I'd seen before—shoddy swords and short spears, more like darts. Slightly better than Boar's crew, but not good enough for a leader. Plus, the two had spoken as equals. So the Senior had gone back.
I gathered the weapons and dumped Filin's bag onto the grass. Dlinnyy had traveled light. Out fell a bundle of rags, a water flask, and a sharpening stone—a solid starter kit. Wrapped in the rags was a primitive fire-starting set: flint, tinder, and a striker.
I packed the loot back into the bag, slung it over my shoulder, and headed toward the fading glimmers of the anomaly.
Half an hour later, I reached the spot. Impossible to miss—the wide trail from the crowd cut off abruptly at the edge of a small grove. Beyond that, the grass stood untouched, as if a transport shuttle had scooped up the villagers.
On the way, I'd spotted an approaching Raider squad. The BAS counted ten—half a standard tribute-collection unit.
Enemy arrival in 17 minutes, 27 seconds
Likelihood of successful negotiation: 7%
Likelihood of immediate attack: 27%
Likelihood of delayed attack: 78%
Likelihood of spontaneous situation change: 3%
That last one covered everything from natural disasters to a meteor strike. I had ten minutes to study the tunnel. If I couldn't crack it, I'd need to prep for a fight. Luckily, the situation favored me here—I didn't want to face Raiders in the open field.
With my action sequence set, I pushed the bandits from my mind and got to work.
I knew the workings of most fields and tunnels by heart. The main difference between human and lyrdagi energy, oddly enough, was color. Humans used light blue; Aliens favored green and yellow. There were other nuances—connection protocols, encoding—but we'd learned to bypass those.
But this glow didn't resemble lyrdagi tunnels—or the locals' interfaces. The pale green, almost white hue felt like a watered-down mockery of Alien tech.
It wasn't about extra effects or aesthetics. Lyrdagi saw the world differently—different brain structure, different colors, different perception. The Ideals wore white armor for a reason: that color was invisible to them. The lizards simply couldn't see it.
So this tunnel's glow raised a ton of questions. One thing I knew for sure—this field and the planet's system weren't human-made. Were they lyrdagi work? Not certain yet.
I paced the grove's edge, feeding every detail into the BAS. Tunnels came in two types: transport and protective. Transport ones slashed travel time by moving cargo and beings along an energy layer, like a self-propelled walkway.
Protective ones were simpler and far less energy-intensive, used to cross hazardous zones. Both had quirks, but I leaned toward the protective type here.
Three minutes later, the analysis wrapped up, and the system highlighted a probable gate model: two energy pillars, a converter arc, and a launch platform. Standard setup. The structure blended seamlessly into the landscape—or maybe the landscape grew around it later. The grass and nearby trees, at least, seemed natural.
I stepped to the center of the launch zone and scraped the dirt with my foot. Not enough. I used a spear. At fifteen centimeters deep, the tip hit a smooth surface. Wincing, I scratched my wrist where the bioimplant's port jutted slightly.
I'd never liked direct connections. They left any operator painfully vulnerable. Bioimplants gave Ideals tons of advantages, but they had downsides too.
I could divert all BAS power to crack the gate, but I'd be blind and deaf for five minutes—faster wasn't likely in my state. The system was unfamiliar; unexpected hiccups could crop up.
Not an option.
"Tactical scheme calculation," I said, turning toward the distant pursuers.
My vision blurred slightly. I habitually aided the system's analysis—focusing on key objects, sharing observations, adding data.
Eight spears, five swords, six sets of leather armor. One Raider gleamed in the sun with metal chainmail scales—new. That kind of armor took serious smithing skill, meaning it cost more.
All traveling light. Moving efficiently. Loose formation. They'd spotted me but didn't speed up. A sharp leader ran this crew.
Calculation complete
Likelihood of victory in open terrain: 39%
Likelihood of victory in prolonged combat: 92%
Priority targets marked
Recommended: Eliminate officer corps and apply psychological pressure early
The results matched my own take—always nice. The human brain sees things differently, and I liked tackling problems from all angles.
I approached the weapons I'd left at the edge. Stabbed two swords into the ground, grabbed the rest, and moved ten meters into the grove.
The trees were thin, the space between thick with thorny bushes. I had to pick my paths carefully. Not bad.
Prep took just a few minutes. The second spear gave me the most trouble. On the way back, I heard the Raiders' voices nearing. Without stopping, I yanked the swords from the ground and swung them experimentally.
My body responded much better. External changes weren't obvious yet, which was good for now.
"Ahem," my voice obeyed too—though it sucked to rely on such crude tools. "One, two…"
The Raiders hit the trail's final turn. It veered sharply before the launch platform. Oddly, none even considered stepping off the path.
BAS: Data update
Three swords, two spears, ten enemies. Red skulls glowed over two heads, visible only to me: the guy in chainmail and a half-naked brute with a massive two-hander on his shoulder.
The first was likely the commander. The second… just big. Maybe a bodyguard. The bandits fanned out, eyeing me warily.
Distance: ten meters and closing. The brute stuck close to the leader. I waited.
"What're you staring at, goat?" one fighter nasaled. I never liked his type—instigators who hung back from the fray. This sweaty guy with a bald patch to his nape stood a bit behind his crew. But they had their uses. "Nox ditch you, loser? Or you too dumb to run with the rest?"
The Raiders around him laughed heartily—especially the brute with the two-hander. Only the commander's face stayed blank and alert, his eyes flicking to the weapons in my hands. He knew their former owners. And what happened to them.
The bandits spread out, cutting off my route to the field. They didn't circle behind—like I was already cornered.
"Who offed our boys, runt?" the bald guy kept at it. "Where—"
"FIGHT!" I roared maniacally, eyes bulging as I charged the loudmouth. Five meters of trampled field separated us. If needed, I could cross it in a second even now. "DEATH!!!"
The warmup paid off. Some bandits flinched; the joker tripped and fell on his ass. Only the brute cut his laugh short and stepped forward… leaving his boss exposed for a split second.
"Kill—" The order drowned in blood, unfinished. On my second step, I veered sharply. I spun, adding momentum to my swing, and hurled both swords.
Energy reserve: 89/1000
The first blade pierced the leader's throat. Chainmail didn't save him—blood drenched the metal instantly. One down. The reserve ping was more reliable than any glance.
The second sword sank into the bodyguard's beefy torso. I'd thrown low—the blade hit under his right rib. If the barbarian was dumb enough…
"You'll die, bitch!" he bellowed, yanking my weapon from his body.
Not just dumb—perfectly stupid. Dark blood sprayed from the wound with satisfying force. Liver hit. The rest was a matter of time.
My spin ended in a short roll. The mob behind me gawked at their boss's corpse and the lumbering brute trailing me. Unlike me, he couldn't run anymore.
"Freak killed Sever! Get the bastard!" the bald guy shrieked, snapping the bandits' coiled tension.
They didn't think or assess—just charged with curses and stomping feet. Too late.
I hit the first trees and cut right. Crashing sounded behind me—the Raiders barreled through like a herd of elk.
Turn. A distinctive twin-trunked tree. I paused, waiting for the fastest pursuer. He burst from the bushes, wildly scanning, face scratched bloody by thorns.
Strike. I used the trunk's fork as a guide. The spear tip punched through his eye, and he hung limp on the shaft. The wood snapped dryly, leaving me with a useless stick.
Energy reserve: 97/1000
I bolted to the next spot. At this rate, I'd run out of weapons early. My reserve neared the first threshold—accumulation should speed up soon.
The Raiders stormed after their quickest mate. Odd, inefficient tactic. A tight chain would've been smarter for a lone target. I could've slipped around them and left the grove right now.
Energy reserve: 114/1000
Minimum energy for operation reached.
Switching to standard mode… Deploying active modules…
Internal energy matrices available
The brute was fading. Local medicine sucked—any military medic could've patched him with bioglue. Here, that'd be a miracle.
The pursuers suddenly slowed. Seven left, and I couldn't figure why they'd ease up. Emotion should've driven them like a wildfire. Time to improvise.
"Ow!" My pained yelp sounded damn convincing. No response. I grabbed the spear stub and thrashed the leaves, mimicking a fall.
"He's close!" a bandit said. "Over there! I see the branches moving!"
"Go check," the bald guy shot back.
"You go," the sharp-eyed one snapped. "Maybe he's already being eaten…"
"Shit!" a hoarse voice rasped.
"Stepped in it?" the instigator gloated.
"Chizhik's down here. Spear in his eye…"
"Bastard!" the first hissed. "Who the hell is this asshole?"
They weren't moving. I shifted slightly and chucked the spear stub at the nearest one. It fell a meter short, landing at their feet.
"He's out of weapons!" the bald guy yelled. Relentless prick! "Two swords on the field. One spear in Chizhik. Broke the other. Come on! Or Wolf'll skin us himself!"
That last bit hit home. The bandits surged forward with desperate fury. Something held them back—not fear of me. The forest spooked them.
But I'd gotten what I wanted. I moved as their shouts rang out. I stood in plain sight, empty-handed, legs hidden waist-deep in bushes. They saw me. Just a little more…
A close target clouds the mind and breeds mistakes. Vision narrows, locking onto the prize.
I staggered back, feigning panic. My foot pressed the spear shaft. A simple rock and some moldy leaves had turned it into a perfect trap. The metal tip flashed in the air.
The lead Raider couldn't stop—his groin impaled on the spear. The others didn't even register it, shoving him from behind, worsening the wound. He screamed bloody murder. Not for long—pain would end in death soon.
No time to grab the spear. The bald guy figured it out first, skirted the pile-up, and came at me with his sword. Unexpected…
I dodged, grabbed his head, and smashed it against a tree. Didn't kill him—I had other plans for this one.
A dash through the brush. I snagged my sword on the move and ran for a pre-scouted clearing. Six was still too many, but they weren't a tight pack of war dogs anymore—just six scared men with swords, jumping at every rustle.
Energy reserve: 125/1000
Acceleration
Duration: 20 seconds
Energy reserve: 95/1000
Warning!
Energy reserve dropped to red zone!
Power-saving mode activated.
Zero reserve will result in death!
Unpleasant… But teetering on the edge was better than wallowing at the bottom.
My muscle mass was too low for Acceleration's full effect. At peak form, I could hit five times my speed and hold it comfortably for over a minute. Now, it doubled—should be enough.
I veered sharply, arcing around the charging bandits. My sword grazed the neck of the outermost one, and I kept running. Hard strikes weren't needed in this mode—momentum and speed did the work.
Energy reserve: 102/1000
A jet of blood hit the next bandit in the face. He jolted, half-turning his head. The rest barreled past without stopping.
I dipped my sword and sliced his femoral artery on the fly. The countdown ticked in my head. Ten, nine…
The remaining Raiders hit the clearing and bunched up back-to-back. Killing me wasn't on their minds anymore.
"Hey, man!" the bald guy called. The left side of his face was one giant bruise from the tree. "Let's make a deal! You let us go, we'll say we lost the villagers."
I stood behind a tree five meters from the trembling huddle, inspecting my sword thoughtfully. Negotiating with them didn't interest me. I saw enemies as resources—just needed to figure out the least costly way to harvest them.
"You can't take us alone!" another piped up. "We've gone too far…"
I peeked out briefly and ducked back. Odd… only three Raiders left. One missing. Were the rest stalling me?
"Too late," the bald guy sighed fatalistically. A second later, a heavy thud hit the ground.
A mangled corpse of the lost Raider crashed onto the clearing from above. Then, from deep in the grove, came that all-too-familiar, utterly loathed hysterical laughter.