Remember, Children of Humanity
Remember Your Roots and Who You Are
You Are Descendants of the Great Ones Who Once Defeated the Hellish Spawn
Help Will Come, Children of Humanity, and We Shall Defeat the Enemy Again
"The Book of Hope"
Verse XVII"
Two seconds…
That's roughly how much time I had to make the right call. The archers didn't wait for a repeat order. I heard bowstrings creak. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Irma's still body and Nox's twitching, terrified face. The cold in the enemy leader's eyes left no room for doubt. Killing wasn't an option!
Acceleration mode activated
Energy: 86/1000
It felt like part of my skeleton was ripped out. Every drop into the red zone turned me into a half-dead sack of meat. But I couldn't skip the energy matrix now.
"Harra!" I hurled the weapon bundle off my shoulder at the leader and bolted. The shout still hung in the air.
The gray-haired man's eyes widened slowly. I swung the scale mail from my back to my chest with my right hand. Some archers shifted targets. A dozen arrows hadn't loosed yet but were already in motion.
Behind me, a crowd of panicked civilians. In my head, memory fragments—Kodras rebels siding with lyrdagi, battles with pirate Freemen. I knew how to kill humans. But now, I had to rein in those skills.
Two steps. I eased my speed slightly, giving the archers time to lock onto me. My foot sank into soft earth. Push.
The first arrow whistled past. My brain instantly mapped its path. I'd shifted forward enough to keep the villagers from becoming random pincushions.
The leader's hand reached for his belt. He dodged left from the incoming mess of spears and swords.
I slammed my shoulder into his chest, grabbing his right arm mid-motion. It was already on his knife hilt. The speed gap left him no chance. A pained gasp—probably broke something…
The rough grip of his weapon fit my palm. We fell. Mid-flight, I yanked us sideways, shielding myself with his body from quick-draw archers. Arrows zipped overhead. A woman wailed behind me, followed by a chorus of fear, not pain.
"Stay down!" The knife tip tickled his throat—not enough. I held back from slashing it open, making a small cut instead. Pain snapped him to. "Cease fire!"
"You'll die in agony, Masters' lapdog!" the local leader rasped. "My men will finish this. My death just hastens yours."
Acceleration mode deactivated.
Warning! Energy reserves below critical threshold! Depletion below zero will result in death.
Millimeters from the knife tip sat an energy source—so close, so out of reach. Damn! I hadn't expected to adapt this fast…
"We're not enemies," I said firmly.
"I see that," he shot back, sarcastic.
Despite his threat, we were still alive. The archers held position. I jerked my human shield side to side, throwing off their aim. If one shot and hit, I'd have to kill the leader to survive—then the rest. Locals wouldn't forgive that.
"We come in peace!" Nox finally snapped out of it. "Friends, in dire times, we seek refuge and aid. Where's Fox?"
"See?" I said. "Tell your men to lower their weapons. We don't want a fight."
"Prove it," the gray-haired man said reluctantly. He'd ignored Nox entirely—good sign.
"You're still breathing," I replied, easing the knife back and loosening my grip. "Not enough?"
I briefly lifted the knife and sliced my backpack straps in one motion. Repairs could wait. Speed mattered more—I had no energy left for even basic matrices. If he tricked me, I'd harvest energy in combat. Best to armor up first.
"What are you doing?" the local leader asked, tense, as I rummaged beneath him.
"Prepping for a warm welcome," I said. I slipped my arms into the scale mail sleeves. Now for the tricky part. "We're agreed, right? I let you go, and we switch to civilized talk."
"How do you figure?" he snorted. "You attacked me, threatened to kill me, nearly slit my throat, and now want to negotiate?"
"And you were just picking berries nearby?" I countered. "Your greeting didn't mean what I thought? I'll apologize if I got it wrong."
"You reek of the Masters from a mile off," he growled. "The trail glowed with rot across the forest. We were defending ourselves."
"We were the ones defending," I shot back. His line about the glow intrigued me. I'd used masking, and their reaction to the tunnel's creators said more than any chat. Maybe I'd finally found the right place. "Let's continue this standing."
Without waiting, I shoved him one way and rolled the other, slipping my head into the scale mail's neck. Riskiest moment—a second of blindness could've cost me my life or a bad wound. It worked.
We rose together. I tossed him his knife and hooked the two-hander with my foot, flipping it up. The blade landed neatly in my hand, its bluish edge humming through the air.
A couple archers drew. His move now—and he didn't disappoint.
"Hold!" He raised a hand.
"Ditrass…" one of the camo-clad guys said.
"Why do you smell like the Masters?" Ditrass asked. His authority over his men was impressive. He didn't answer the archer, who didn't dare act alone.
"Masking," I said honestly. No point lying. If I read him right, he valued truth over strength, even when it was inconvenient or risky. "We had no other way to open the gate."
"You a Guider?" Ditrass pressed.
"No," I shook my head. The BAS diligently logged every enemy's position, behavior, eye movements, reaction speed… The longer this dragged, the better my odds in a fight.
"Raider?" he asked neutrally. Interesting—he seemed less hostile to bandits than the mysterious Masters.
"No," I shook my head.
"You're lying," Ditrass said flatly. "You're a warrior. Not from our village. Not a Guider. Not a Raider. And you claim no tie to the Masters. That doesn't add up. How'd you know where the western trail gate was?"
"Most esteemed Ditrass," Nox piped up. Sensing the mortal threat had passed, the old man swapped his scared-sheep act for a dignified village leader. "Our settlements share an old friendship. Per tradition, years ago, I met your honored elder, Fox. He said we could seek your help in need."
"Fox is dead," Ditrass replied coldly, eyes still on me. "Years ago. Too kind to outsiders—didn't come back from one of his meetings."
"I'm sorry," Nox mumbled, flustered. "A great loss for us all. Our friendship—"
"I don't know you, old man," Ditrass finally looked at him. "First time seeing you. What friendship?"
"Blood exchange!" Nox snapped back boldly. "We sealed our pact with blood! Our blood lives among you, and yours led us here!"
He ducked into the villager crowd and bent over the unconscious Irma.
"Step aside! The threat's gone—no need to shield her!" he barked, lifting Irma gently. I winced at the clumsy theatrics. "Doe, my girl, you did it… We're safe. Thank you."
The show left Ditrass as unimpressed as me. He stared, baffled, at the huddled villagers who couldn't protect anyone—not even themselves.
"Who's she?" he asked. I caught a one-second interface flicker—some kind of scan.
"Guider," I said calmly. "She brought us to the trail. Name's Irma. Around twenty-five. Good kid. Overdid it on the crossing."
"You helped?" Ditrass asked, eyeing her.
"Yeah."
"What's your name? I can't see it," he said, unfazed, like he'd encountered this before.
"Achilles," I introduced myself.
"Ditrass," he replied after a beat. I exhaled. Hearing a name casually was one thing; him giving it was another. Dialogue established—fight off.
"She needs energy," I said. "She handled the trail well but crashed at the exit. Might not be fully burned out."
"Our village's Dukuna will see what's possible," Ditrass said evenly. "We'll take the girl to the village. Her and everyone with her."
"Good news," I nodded, smirking. His words carried an unspoken catch. I'd guessed the setup, but didn't expect it this fast. Sheep couldn't harm wolves—unlike me. "What's the bad?"
"Everyone but you," he met my gaze squarely. "I trust you, Achilles. Don't know why, but I do. The nameless belong to the Masters, carrying their will. People like you can't enter our home."
"Options?" I asked calmly.
"Leave," he said simply. "I can give you a Guider. Pick any trail you want."
"Or?" I raised an eyebrow. His men mingled with the villagers now. Some women cried, others tried talking to the silent forest folk. The men mostly stared at the ground, avoiding trouble with their odd allies.
"Or get a name," Ditrass replied. "But there's a catch. I'm not sure you'd want it—or if the risk's worth it."
I mulled it over. If this meant joining the local system, I'd refuse outright. I'd gotten enough data on waking to avoid that mistake. I could connect now, but nothing had changed since.
Still, walking away didn't appeal either. I'd found a competent, sane local unit worth working with. Chances were, the Laugher barriers were meant to choke them out.
No point wandering open lands—more submissive farmer villages and similar bandits awaited. If anything interesting lay nearby, it was with these forest folk. Maybe I could strike a deal.
"I'm not nameless," I said evenly. "But you won't take my word, right?"
"Right," he nodded. "The Masters guard their tools jealously. Sometimes they wipe memories, and the tools don't even know who they serve. You might truly think you're on your own path, but one day… One day you'll wake up killing everyone around. Or plant a signal beacon for the Masters. Or worse."
"Happened before?" I asked.
"That rule's written in our fathers' and grandfathers' blood," Ditrass said, watching the villager column head into the woods. Irma hadn't stirred—carried on a stretcher of spears and cloth. "We won't add ours or our kids'. The last two cases saved us many deaths."
"You killed nameless?" I pressed.
"Yes," he nodded. "When we realized they couldn't meet the naming ritual's terms."
"Which are?"
"North of here's a lone mountain," the forest leader said. "Very old—just a tall hill. Bad place. Masters' beasts guard it. Climb up and come back."
"That's it?" I clarified.
"That's it," Ditrass nodded. "I'll wait at the base. Dukuna will check you and give you a name."
"Same beasts as the ones guarding the forest on the way here?" I asked coolly. For the first time, he looked at me with interest.
"No," he replied after a long pause.
BAS: Data upload
"I'm in," I said. Ditrass nodded calmly. Apparently, Masters' agents often tried infiltrating the forest village at any cost—he was used to it.
"Then let's go," he said, heading into the woods. The villager column went the opposite way. I glanced at my abandoned backpack, but he shook his head mid-stride. "They'll take it to the village. If you return, it's yours, repaired."
We moved fast. Ditrass glided like a born hunter. I kept pace, catching his appraising looks now and then.
In a few hours, we covered twenty kilometers. Plenty of time to size him up and ponder the situation.
And it was damn weird. Three factions shared this turf. The first two were straightforward—peasants and Raiders. Both revered and feared the Masters' laws to death.
The forest folk were trickier. At first glance, fiercely independent and isolated. Hiding from the Masters, hating them enough to kill their messengers. Simple enough. But only on the surface.
Fact was, they should've been wiped out long ago. Their range was known. Block it with Laughers, and the partisans would be done. Yet they kept hiding and living.
Their isolation was half-baked too. Trails existed. Guiders operated. They could leave anytime. They had ties with locals—twenty years back, even some diplomacy, now stalled.
BAS: Data upload
Something didn't add up. If they hindered the Masters, they'd be gone. If they were useful, why the hate? It felt like a circus mutant brawl—one side pretending to attack, the other desperately defending. What's the point?
The terrain shifted. Trees shrank, a gentle slope began. Ten minutes later, we stopped at a tiny dugout. I only spotted it two meters from the entrance.
"We're here," Ditrass said—his first words the whole trip. "I'll wait."
"Dukuna?" I asked, watching his reaction closely.
"She'll come later," he said after a slight pause.
"Fair," I nodded, sensing further questions were pointless. "Need to bring proof from the top?"
"Bring a beast's head," he smirked faintly.
"Time?"
"As long as it takes," he caught my drift.
I nodded again and headed for a gap in the trees. Ditrass didn't expect me back. If I returned, a nasty surprise likely awaited. Still, I didn't resent him—felt compelled to warn him even.
"About the villagers," I paused. "I clashed with Wolf's Raiders. They might pay you a courtesy call."
"I'll keep it in mind," Ditrass replied. "Thanks, Achilles. Good luck."
The forest ended abruptly. Hot sun hit my shoulders. Ahead rose a slope strewn with white boulders—an ancient mountain, if not prehistoric.
I'd run through every scenario on the way and was ready. A hundred meters up, I stopped at a suitable rock and swung the two-hander with full force.
The sword recoiled with a jarring vibration through the grip. A clear, lingering ring filled the air. One second, two…
A hoarse roar and hissing wail echoed in the distance. No mistake. I grinned predatorily, swung the blade, and marched toward the ugly sounds. Time to remember who I was and finally refill my reserves properly.