《Iter Lucidum》 Chapter 1 – the toilet in your dreams Chapter 1 ¨C the toilet in your dreams Have you ever wondered what the heel of a Golem looks like? Not the jolly bastards of Jewish folklore that are almost cute. I am talking about 7-meter-tall monstrosities that look like a tiny mountain violently pressed into a humanoid shape. No eyes or mouth to signal any pain, only colorfully pulsating veins reacting to our attacks. Well, I just found out. It¡¯s mostly plain and flat except the bright red shining sphere that is half sunken into the stony mass. I command my legs to get me out of the incoming bulldozer that is that monsters¡¯ feet but to no avail. My legs and left arm where impaled when I previously tried to deflect the milky crystal points that are a razor-sharp and seemingly unbreakable substitute for fingers. It punched right through my white iron buckler and straight into me. I grit my teeth while trying to block out the ever-increasing waves of pain and the deafening sound of my violent heartbeats. I raise my right arm and clench my fist while I scrape together what mana I have left in my strained veins. The exhilarating sensation of ancient magic floods my body once more and a raging spear of light takes a meager but definite shape in my hand. I point it at the red sphere of the incoming Golems heel and let it fly. Even though jokingly thin and fickle, it still manages to topple the walking mountain as if hit by a 5ton missile. I found its weakness! Twisting my head left and right I see my rushing allies, emboldened by the first real chance to cause some proper damage. But good Lord, desperation and hope isn¡¯t doing them any favors in the mental department, they are going for the upper body, not the sphere that I managed to crack a bit. My eyelids become too heavy and I struggle to keep them open. I manage to catch a flew glimpses of the Golem shooting out additional crystal points from its torso, relentlessly impaling my freshly recruited comrades. The blood loss and mana-exhaustion has finally caught up and gained the upper hand, I feel my consciousness drifting away to the sound of death and havoc. I came all the way to Germany to get killed by a tiny mountain, what a joke. ¡°Oi, wake up princess, you¡¯ve had plenty of time to rest¡± I hear a chipper ethereal voice calling out to me. Am I in heaven? I open my eyes but can¡¯t make out anything besides the starry sky and a sea of black with golden shining streaks both over and under its surface. I myself am naked, hairless, almost translucent even - I am beyond lost. ¡°Oi, snap out of it, boy, and follow my directions, we don¡¯t have all day!¡± the heavenly voice shouts authoritatively. I feel like in a fever dream, struggling to see, let alone walk straight. I can¡¯t speak, can¡¯t even move my lips properly, unclear if it¡¯s a lack of ability or energy. Physics don¡¯t make much sense either since I¡¯m kneeling on an oceanlike body of water, that seems to run as deep as the Mariana Trench. Why do I even know that? I then feel the raw ecstasy of pure high-level mana seeping into me, slowly at first but awakening a brutal thirst I didn¡¯t realize I had. I absorb the foreign magical energy with the greed and ferocity of a man dying of thirst, practically draining the unknown source for all it has. ¡°You greedy little bugger, take a breather! You¡¯re not trying to win a drinking contest!" the invisible man calls out annoyingly while starting to fizzle out with interferences. My initial drowsiness and confusion are replaced by an otherworldly, magical high. I clench both of my fists together, supercharging my whole body with the unknown but amazingly potent energy supply. I can not only use my magic again; I can even exceed my limits to an all-time high. The golden streaks react to my outburst of power by combining and practically forming a whole new path of gold, drawing me to it. I can¡¯t resist, the alure is too great and I take off like a shooting star. Now, flying is nothing new to me, I could usually stay airborne like this for around 5 seconds before crashing into the ground like a broken plane while puking my innards out. The required amount of both mana and physical endurance is insane, but here, in this weird reality, I feel almost limitless. ¡°Boy, st-...killing every...list-...st-...it¡± the voice stutters but fizzles away again and again. I can barely make out anything that strange person is telling me. But I have no desire to answer, I feel as free and unbothered as I ever was, the unlimited seeming magic only increasing my fantastical high. After shooting through the starry sky towards the newly formed path of bright gold, I spot a Golem. My brain is trying to remember something but struggles to bypass the mental haze. Where did I see that thing again? I fly around it in an arc pattern while trying to figure this mystery out. Ah! Yes! I remember now. I was fighting this thing with the lads from the new company, although I wonder where those cowards are hiding again. I change my trajectory towards the Golem to discharge every bit of kinetic energy I have amassed during my flight. With this overwhelming power, I should blow it away in one piece. ¡°OI, DON-¡­.IT!¡± screams out the ethereal voice in a panicked way, as if speaking straight into my mind. ¡°Yes, yes, I am on it, for the love of God!¡± I curse in my head, while not even being sure if I heard him right. I crash into the tiny mountain of a monster and feel the tantalizing rush of light and thunder magic courses through me, while the Golem is practically pulverized by the sheer kinetic force. My vision swims once more and I start to slowly sink into the water, as if the sea is accepting me reluctantly. Stolen story; please report. I open my eyes, finding myself in a wasted hospital room. I am tied to a collapsed bed with heavy mana-infused steel chains, the walls around are battered like being exposed to a bomb. A paralyzing amount of pain rushes through my entire body while I can¡¯t stop puking all over myself. The battered door swings open and an old man in a whiteish robe walks in, accompanied by a flock of nurses and doctors. ¡°You cheeky little scamp, still alive, eh?¡± I recognize the voice, it is the same that spoke to me in my dream, just without the heavenly echo and luster I heard previously. I muster what little strength my drained body has left. ¡°What is¡­happening?¡± I say while fighting a losing battle against another wave of nausea and the backlash of mana exhaustion. ¡°Where¡­am I?¡± The old man only snickers in surprise. ¡°You, my surprisingly still breathing friend, were scooped up from the horribly botched Golem-raid from three weeks ago.¡± My eyes dart around the room full of curious hospital-personal that keeps scribbling down notes while starring me up and down, as if I am some lab-rat. A sense of shame and helplessness overcomes me, while the sour memories of that lost battle drift back into my mind. I am getting more agitated by the second. ¡°Release me at once, old man, or I¡¯ll blow this place up!¡± I bark my bluff angrily into the room, causing the medical personnel to take a few steps back but not the old geezer. The clergyman only snorts a laughter ¡°Look around you. Ended up a right old palaver, didn¡¯t it? Besides, you are a spent bullet, boyo.¡± My headache is still torturing my brain but I start noticing the figments of my magic spread across the room. ¡°Did I do this?¡± I ask skeptically. ¡°Finally caught a whiff of your own brew, did you?" the old man replies ironically while turning to the staff. ¡°You can pull a SGE ¨C Specially Gifted Entity, right back from the dead''s door. Just pump ''em full of top-notch mana, give their drained system a good jolt, and patch ''em up with the right kind of magic¡ªbest use the same type for a higher efficacy.¡± He starts explaining to the white scrubed audience that follow suit by writing everything down. One of the listeneres in the background, a jokingly beautiful tall student with bright eyes and dishwater blond hair, raises her hand eagerly. Without even given the permission to talk she interjects ¡°but why did ze patient blow up like a grenade, Herr Lewis?¡±. The old man stares her down with a grinn and points at me with his ceromonial looking white gloves. ¡°This greedy chap got a high level whiff of his own element, pure as the Queen''s silver and started draining way more then he can handle. Sent him sky-high like a kite while his noggin was still wrestling with that nasty Golem trauma. Dreamt up a loo, he did, and tried to give it a go right there, in his sleep!¡± A small laughter breaks out in the audience, even I find the analogy funny but am too preoccupied with soiling myself to join in on the fun. ¡°So ziz is an anomali zen, Herr Lewis?¡± the eager german student reitterates. ¡°Spot on, my keen apprentice. It was sheer luck on his part, what with his tank running on fumes and all, plus the spot-on match between our elements. Made him supercharge his whole system and let rip on his imaginations, bloody rare that is though and plenty to discover yet.¡± He takes a final look at my pathetic display and winks a black man over. "Clean him up. He¡¯s done for, not a spark left to strike¡± while releasing the spell on my binding. The old man grabs the chain which slithers around his arms until it reached his waist, akin to an obedient snake. ¡°And keep your mitts off the magic, unless you''re keen on meeting your maker, sonny!¡± he adds while leaving the room, most of the medical staff following him quietly. The male nurse appproaches me while I struggle to reconnect to the laws of physics, unsuccesfully trying to move out of my tilted bed, I can¡¯t even flex my muscles, let alone push myself up. The black male nurse is compact and stout, with a suprising amount of strength. He¡¯s picking me up with one hand, while ripping off the sullied hospital gown with the other. I am dangling in the air, barely able to hide my manparts. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it, friend¡± the nurse says in a comforting tone, ¡°we will get you all cleaned up and back to resting right away!¡± while flashing me a bright white smile. ¡°Thank you¡­¡± I muster, trying to downplay the awkwardness and helplessness I am enduring. ¡°Not trying to sound ungrateful but I am missing a ton of informations here and its driving me crazy¡± I stutter while being almost manhandeled by the effeicient healthcare professional, despite my broad atheltic build. ¡°It was all over the news, man, you and your whole group got crushed by that stone monster, most of you didn¡¯t even make it out of that fight¡± he explains while carrying me over to a wheelchair. I remain unbothered by the mention of the deaths, I cant even remember how many people I saw dying at the hands, paws or claws of some brutish abomination. ¡°That thing than went on to terrorize and level another village but was eventually stopped by reinforcemants¡± he carries on. I grab the nurses shirt while he is wiping me off with a wet towel. ¡°¡­ By the way¡­where are we right now?¡± I ask my caretaker, that only bursts out in a hearty laughter. ¡°Landstuhl regional medical center in the US Ramstein Airbase ¨C you and the others where brought here after being scooped up by the NATO SGE-Division ¡®Gjallarhorn¡¯¡± he explained while bringing me inside another clean and orderly room. ¡°You will receive all the necessary informations in due time, buddy, for now, eat up and rest¡± he says in a kind but ordering way. He brings a tablet of food to my bedside and makes his way to the door, where he types in my name in the digital display and leaves the room.I grab the chocklate pudding and shake my head when eyeing what the nurse put in. ¡°My name is Aureli, not Aurdery¡­¡± I murmur with a spoon full of the suggary deliciousness in my mouth. Chapter 2 – major pain in the ass It has been two months since I blew up my hospital room sleeping. Since then, I have neither seen the old geezer that healed me from my initial coma, nor was I hassled too much by the researchers afterwards. All in all, I felt like on a retreat, being able to fully recover and even gain a lot of strength through mana nutrition and trainings sessions. Although, I did get practically robbed blind with the medical- and repair bills I just received yesterday. A sour expression overcomes me when I think of the massive chunk of savings that I just lost. But I ignore my stinginess while walking down the hospital corridors, towards the training field, being kindly greeted by most of the medical staff. It wasn¡¯t a secret that the global big players like the USA were fond of SGEs, to the point, that they paid not only insane wages but tried to lure them in with access to state-of-the-art training, medical and production-facilities. The Rammstein air-base wasn¡¯t any different and even though I am an unaffiliated freelancer, I was still allowed to frequent those areas. The icing on the cake was the joint trainings-session with the Gjallarhorn-people - that alone is a privilege only few have access to. I was simply in right place at the right time. I step outside the large hospital-building, clad in the standard issued mix of leather and iron gear I was borrowed a month ago. I stop right at the entrance, stretch as much as my joints allow and stare at the clear sky, enjoying the pleasant spring breeze. It sure is nice to be all patched up again, I think to myself. ¡°Good morning, Bro!¡± a coarse sounding voice calls out to me, ripping me out of my short tranquillity. Its Marley, another SGE who is the newcomer of the Gjallarhorn special unit 8. I wave at the tall archer who is clad in yet another exotic leather-getup. I make my way towards him, with an impish grin on my face. ¡°Did you get in trouble?¡± I ask him while being greeted by a few of his team members. ¡°What do you mean, dude?¡± Marley replies with a puzzled expression. ¡°You know, when you robbed yet another Paris fashion week¡± I clarify, getting a few giggles from the bystanders. But he only sneers at my remark looking at my rather plane outfit, ¡°said the guy who dresses like a medieval hobo-knight¡±. I overact being offended, grab the gloves from my belt and throw it at his feet. ¡°I demand justice, good Lords! This outlandish derelict has dared to mock my proud armour!¡± I declare while Marley plays along, much to the amusement of his wrung-out looking mates. ¡°I was afraid that our guest may have fallen into yet another comma but it seems he is just a lazy bum again¡± a soft voice calls out. Marley and his squad hastily fall in line, greeting their captain, Hinemoa Whaanga. She is the major of the Gjallarhorn-platoon and a high-ranking US-military. She may be in her late-thirties but good heavens, she is a testament to M¨¡ori beauty. Her silky black hair cascades down her back, ever so slightly dancing in the soft spring breeze, while long braids flow along her angelic face with plump playful lips, emphasized by her traditional ¡®mako kauae¡¯ chin-tattoo. I was smitten from the moment I first met her, completely oblivious of how ice cold and diabolical she tends to be - especially with strangers that blow up hospital rooms and stay on base for two months. I am not sure why but she despises me with every fibre of her being, using every little chance to provoke and pester me. ¡°Sadly, no coma, major Whaanga, I doubt the heavens will bless me with another break anytime soon¡± I reply while greeting her with a half bow, only receiving a contemptuous scoff. ¡°Look at you, acting like your vacation is over because you train every now and then with us¡± she rudely remarks. Her eyes moving along her tired soldiers, inspecting both their gear and their form, also raising an eyebrow at the tall archer¡¯s choice of clothing. She then gives the relaxation command while plucking the 7-inch-tablet from her belt. Her uniform is akin to mine; a combination of leather and iron pieces for decent protection while not confining the wearer the way plate-armour does. Although, my standard-issue gear pales in comparison to the expert-level craftsmanship that is evident in every little detail of her set. ¡°The German Bundeswehr reported another dire-wolf outbreak near Heidelberg, with an urgent request for backup. Gjallar-Team four and six are already deployed elsewhere, so it¡¯s up to you to intercept the wave.¡± The impromptu mission briefings always follow the same pattern: first the major announces the mission, gives the chosen unit their marching orders and receives head nodding in return, although I know for a fact, that they are probably cursing their luck for having yet another deployment without proper time to rest. But no one here is crazy enough to complain in the face of their menacing commanding officer, especially not if that CO is among the strongest SGEs of their country. I stare at the lineup of soldiers and feel sorry for them but orders are orders, I think, as I wait for an opportunity to excuse myself. ¡°Requesting permission to speak, Ma¡¯am!¡± Marley barks out like a desperate bloodhound - his easy-going personality replaced by a stern, almost feral seeming version of himself. That woman really has a terrifying effect on her people. ¡°Permission granted, greenhorn, let¡¯s hear it¡± she replies slightly perplexed, clearly not used to getting interrupted mid-briefing. He stands tall like a tower, while holding his massive compound-bow upright like a spear. ¡°Ma¡¯am, for the sake of both my comrade¡¯s survival as well as that of the endangered citizen, I recommend to bench Rogers, Diaz, Carlos and Milwaukee - Ma¡¯am!¡± he practically shouts, while drawing confused and fearful looks from his mentioned squad-members. ¡°Are you trying to tell me how to run my units, private?!¡± she replies while oozing out a murderous aura that sends chills down my spine. Marley is a brave son-of-a-bitch but even he starts to sweat like a pig, shifting his weight on his great bow to keep himself from collapsing. ¡°No, Ma¡¯am, I¡­¡± he stops, gasping for air as if running up a hill, ¡°I would¡­never dare to¡­dispute¡­¡± every word feels like being forcefully dragged out of his lungs. Hinemoa releases her crushing aura but her ember glowing eyes remain. Marley falls on his knees, still gasping for air. His oversized compound bow drops to the ground with a big thump as she addresses the other members of the unit. ¡°Does someone agree with the greenhorn¡¯s assessment? Diaz? Milwaukee? Carlos maybe?¡± she asks the practically frozen bystanders but they are scared shitless. She lets the silence hang like a sword over their head, making them more nervous by the second. Her burning gaze then settles on me, feeling like she is watching right through me. ¡°Let us ask our esteemed guest. So, what do you think, deadbeat?¡± I roll my eyes, clearly not comfortable partaking in her powerplay. ¡°I don¡¯t think it¡¯s my place to join the conversation since I am not part of Gjallarhorn¡­or the US-military.¡± I explain as I hold onto the hilt of my sheathed standard-issue steel sword. ¡°I didn¡¯t ask you to put me to sleep but for your opinion, freelancer¡±, she counters my deflection. I let out a defeated sigh and put my hands on my hips. ¡°I agree with Marley, ma¡¯am¡± I sheepishly say, unsure if to continue or not. ¡°I can¡¯t remember asking you to stop and I am really running out of patience¡± she adds impatiently, her anger clearly visible. ¡°Of course, eh sorry¡­eh well, the sorcerers are showing early signs of mana overuse, while the close-combat-personal seem to be somewhat sluggish and hesitant to fight¡± I pause, starring at the ground while scratching the back of my braided hair, unsure if running my mouth any further could get my new friends into trouble. ¡°Well, the freelancer did make some sense for once¡±, she adds almost disappointed. ¡°So, you people want to stay tucked away in base, I hear?¡± she glances over her subordinates, gauging their reaction but they only keep starring to the ground. ¡°As our guest pointed out, you lot have become lazy and soft. That is not your fault but mine. It¡¯s my error to correct and I - WILL ¨C correct it, I promise¡± she continues in a growl, clearly thinking towards a dark place. ¡°I can¡¯t blame them¡± I interject, already hating myself for not being able to shut up. ¡°With such a lovely CO, I too would hate to leave base¡± I say, trying to break the depressing mood with a cheeky remark. Naked terror is painted on the faces of everyone, as if they have just seen the grim reaper. I try to downplay the awkwardness with a laughter but much to my dismay, the major¡¯s patience truly ran out. She closed the distance between us in a flash, relentlessly gut-punching me across half the field. After flying and hitting the ground like a broken jet, I shakily rise to my feet, involuntary parting ways with my late breakfast. Fuck me! I thought she was a magic-fight hybrid like me, not a full-strength barbarian? ¡°You will address me properly, deadbeat!¡± she yells at me commandingly from a crouched position over 200 yards way. Signs of an incantation manifest and cryptic runes surround her. Her eyes glow even more sinister now ¨C but her beauty is still uncanny. I spit out another mouthful of blood. This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. I grunt and wipe the grime off my mouth. High rank or not, I am not her plaything, I curse at myself, as I fail to contain my anger. After so many weeks of being pushed around and bullied, I cast away common sense and let the pent-up fury get the better of me. ¡°I am very sorry, of course I will address your properly, dear major pain in the ass!¡± I shout in her direction, while I take off my sword belt. Since she is unarmed, I will be too, the pale faces of the Gjallar-members meanwhile are truly priceless. ¡°Won¡¯t need this for you, love!¡± I add tauntingly as I throw my belted weapon in her direction, knowing how much she despises being doted on. A bestial laughter erupts from her in response. ¡°Here she comes¡± I mumble to myself as I stretch out my arms with clawed fingers. Embracing both a flood of ambient mana and the thrill of my magic, turning my irises to a bright gold-white tint with a soft glow. It¡¯s time to see how much I have improved in the last months. I feel the sensation of the golden path again; forming in my mind¡¯s eye and releasing me from all fears and doubts. Ever since my coma, I was able to tear down a few mental walls that handicapped me for years. Among others, I got a better grasp of how to access and channel my magic more efficiently while not overtaxing my body in an instant. That reduced my crippling reliance on weapons and raw physical strength altogether. I even came to realise, that the closer to death I am, the more alive and capable I feel. Major Whaanga is seething with rage at my brave facade; her bloodlust spikes to the point of flooding a substantial part of the airbase, clearly giving in to her anger herself. She didn¡¯t waste a moment after completing her incantation and shot off from her crouched position like a hellish tiger. I open my palms and white golden flames burst out, covering my arms like burning ethereal sleeves. I conjure one light forged spear after the other, throwing them at my incoming nightmare but she either dodges them with ease or swats them away like annoying fruit-flies. She is a genius and well trained through and through ¨C undoubtedly a whole world apart from me. But the more superior they know they are, the more carless they tend to be. She emerges in a blurry silhouette right in front of me, her speed almost too fast to track with the naked eye. She aims at my throat, ready to crush it like an empty soda can. I can practically feel her pointy nails just inches away from my skin. I don¡¯t even try to escape her grasp; she is too fast anyway. But she notices that I don¡¯t even lift my arms as shields and that is the very moment, she knows: this was bait. Bevor her fingers find purchase in my jugular, all the dispersed javelins disappear in a flash of light and shot out of my radiant body ¨C a nifty skill I made with the crystal golem in mind. The enraged huntress got impaled quite a few times but not a single spike managed to penetrate her skin to a dangerous degree. ¡°Clever, you joker, but your toothpicks are not nearly strong enough to hurt me!¡± she spits mockingly while breaking the spears by simply flexing her rune covered muscles. ¡°I knew I couldn¡¯t get through that thick scull of yours¡± I retort through gritted teeth as my eyes start burning with a whitish fire. Her eyes shoot open in surprise. I clench my fist and scream from the depths of my soul, releasing an absurd amount of light-mana that I enhanced with my ancient magic affinity. I go off like bomb, pushing myself beyond my limits! After moments of pure force and luminosity, I realize I am on my knees inside a little crater, desperately holding on to my fading consciousness. I look out for major Whaanga but I see nothing, only the large crowd of soldiers, SGEs and medical staff that has assembled to witness the fight from a safer distance. My body feels completely trashed; I can¡¯t even stand up to look around ¨C my fearlessness replaced by sheer dread. ¡°Are you looking for me?¡± the soft voice of Hinemoa jump scares me. I glance over my shoulder with a sore neck, seeing her bleeding but smiling from ear to ear. My attack was by no means weak but besides a few shallow wounds and tattered clothe, she seems perfectly fine. ¡°I think you dropped this¡± she says, holding up my sword belt, ¡°you should be more carefully with your borrowed equipment, you know?¡± she lectures me with a sweet and calming voice, bent forwards while rubbing my shoulder. Every muscle in my body seems to be torn apart, I can barely sit upright. I am just relieved that the fight is over and the major calmed down. ¡°I will, Major Whaanga, thank yo-¡­¡° the artificial leather of the belt hits my face with the ferocity of a thousand whips. Before I can even grasp the situation, she strikes me again and again. ¡°ARE YOU SURE YOU DON¡¯T NEED THIS, LOVE?!¡± she screams at me mockingly, while imprinting the very design of the belt on my body. ¡°MAJOR PAIN YOU SAY?!¡± she keeps screaming and whipping me to another blackout. If there ever was an example of ¡®play stupid games, win stupid prizes¡¯ than the Rammstein airbase was just witness to it. Chapter 3 – politics Chapter 3 ¨C politics ¡°Fuck me,¡± I curse to myself while trying to climb out of bed. Every part of my body is badly beaten up¡ªmy right leg more or less shattered, as well as the fingers on my right hand. The fight with Major Whaanga was two weeks ago and nearly cost me my life. That crazed devil would have killed me then and there had it not been for the intervention of some high-ranking officer. I woke up yesterday in a completely white room with only a bed, some round swivel stools, an IV pole with a crystal in its container, and a trash can filled with spent whiteish mana crystals. The faded pink and yellowish hue imply that those are not naturally occurring mineral formations but actually harvested from slain monsters ¨C just how much money did these people invest in my recovery already? I run my left hand through my trimmed hair. It¡¯s spotty and scarred in places. All in all, I look like a plucked chicken that¡¯s been hit by a car, my long hair only a memory from the past. The heavy door to my room opens with a reluctant whiz, and the tall, black nurse walks in. ¡°Hey¡­ Bri¡­an,¡± I greet him, struggling to speak with my reconstructed jaw. Brian has been taking care of me ever since I arrived here. He¡¯s probably getting used to seeing me beaten up by now. ¡°No talking, my dude,¡± the magnificently warm caretaker replies. ¡°Judging by how crushed your jaw was, I¡¯m surprised you¡¯re able to speak at all,¡± he says worriedly. While Brian changes the depleted crystal in my IV, the door opens again. But this time, it¡¯s not a nurse or a cleric. Instead, a bald man enters. He¡¯s covered in scars, probably in his late fifties, and wearing an immaculate uniform adorned with medals of all shapes and sizes. Brian turns around and, upon seeing the military leader, jumps into a frantic salute. ¡°Brigadier General, Sir!¡± ¡°At ease, Private Clay,¡± the base commander replies with a powerful yet calming voice. ¡°I need a moment with Mr. Boletini, Private.¡± ¡°Of course, Brigadier General, Sir!¡± Brian hastily finishes up the new IV and leaves immediately. Unlike Brian, I can feel the aura emanating from this man the moment he steps inside. He may look rather thin and of average height, but his mana is the very definition of pure, primal power. He practically commands the air in the room. ¡°So, you are Mr. Boletini, the freelancer unfortunate enough to challenge Hinemoa to a duel,¡± he says, pulling one of the swivel stools toward him. His lingering stare practically bores a hole in my head. I try to reply, but my body is cramped from head to toe under the weight of his unrelenting aura. ¡°No need to be this tense, son. I come in peace,¡± he says while rubbing his perfectly shaved chin. He crosses his arms and seems to think for a moment. ¡°I came here personally to clear up the regrettable event that transpired two weeks ago.¡± He reaches into his pocket and takes out a smartphone and charger. I recognize it as my company-provided smartphone for active SGEs. ¡°You are a guest here on base, not a prisoner, so if you¡¯d like to call a lawyer, you may do so, and we¡¯ll continue this discussion in the presence of your legal counsel,¡± he adds, placing my phone and charger on the small table next to me. ¡°But before you make a choice, I¡¯d appreciate it if you¡¯d hear me out¡ªsoldier to soldier.¡± He pulls his sleeves back, exposing his thoroughly scarred hands and forearms. His head, face, arms, and hands¡ªeverything is covered in all sorts of healed wounds. Just what has this man seen? I¡¯m intrigued, to say the least. ¡°How¡­ many¡­ battles?¡± I manage to ask with my fragile jaw.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. The bald general snorts a laugh. ¡°I stopped counting many years ago, son. I¡¯m showing you this so you know you¡¯re not talking to a suit but to a soldier¡ªlike you. We both know we may have started monster hunting for the promised money and prestige, but we soon realized there¡¯s not enough wealth in this world to make the loss of comrades and the constant danger remotely bearable or worthwhile.¡± I nod, thinking of the last four blood-drenched years. ¡°So, if you¡¯re willing to discuss this matter without involving a lawyer, I promise to give you the courtesy I reserve for my comrades.¡± I mull over my options, staring at my phone. I grab the device with my functional hand and stow it in the drawer of my bedside table. ¡°No¡­ lawyer,¡± I say, surprising the general. ¡°Very well, then. No lawyer it is,¡± he says with a radiant smile, pulling out a tablet from his belted satchel. ¡°Let me be frank: the situation is as ugly as it can get. Your fight went quite viral, and Major Whaanga has been painted in a very bad way by the press.¡± I stare at him, not even trying to hide my skepticism. ¡°I know, I know. What she did to you was unacceptable, and I punished her accordingly. But she wasn¡¯t always like this. Like me, she was among the first generation of SGE, long before we had high ranks, fame or wealth.¡± The general hands me his tablet ¨C I see a list of mission reports dating back to 2018 ¨C the year after mana appeared on earth. I see the dreaded red stamp on the edge of the screen. Almost every mission ended with a near complete team wipe-out. ¡°As you can see, Hinemoa was not only among the first to awaken her power but also one of the most active hunters. There a few people in our line of work that come even remotely close to the number of deployments. And as troublesome her anger is, I believe it is simply the consequence of loosing dear friends and family to monster attacks.¡± I contemplate his words. Our work is truly ungrateful, because no matter how much we fight, how much we sacrifice ¨C people tend to forget the price of their peace until we either refuse or fail to pay it. ¡°I will make sure to keep Major Whaanga in line but neither the citizen nor the unit can afford to lose her right now, so I need your help in clearing her name. This is what I can offer you and this is what I need you to do.¡± he says while showing me a prepared contract. *** I find myself in a sturdy bus next to Marley, the tall archer with the exotic clothing. His upbeat personality is replaced by a more stoic mood due to the recent loss of two comrades. Next to us is a sorceress named Alica, a stubby brown-haired girl that is barely 20 years old and old man Jacque, a French warrior clad in plate Armor from head to toe. We sit in silence, starring at our tablets while Major Whaanga is briefing us. A week has passed ever since the General and I had our parley. I am almost as good as new thanks to the unyielding healing I received from a top-tier healer. My focus wanders back to the summary. ============================ -Urgent Mission #3113- Location: Northern Bouxwiller, France Target: Goblin Warband Danger-rating: 6/10 Description: A goblin warband has been spotted near the French city of Bouxwiller. French forces are mostly tied up in the south and are unable to respond to clear the group with the current personnel. Assist them for a fast clean-up. Reward: None given due to military-contract ============================ ¡°This is business as usual, people. Let Gjala-Team 1 focus on the warchief while the rest is clearing the small fries ¨C are we clear?¡± the Major shouts into our direction. She receives a ¡°Yes Ma¡¯am¡± in return. The bus comes finally to a halt and people start grabbing their weapons, shields, staffs and make their way out. I am still sifting through the tablet, re-reading the monsterpedia-page regarding our upcoming enemy. ¡°Do you have questions regarding our missiontraget?¡± Major Whaanga asks me in a neutral tone. ¡°No Ma¡¯am, all clear. Just feeling still rusty¡­never mind, I am ready to go.¡± ¡°¡­.Stick to the plan, Freelancer and this will be done quick.¡± she replies, clearly trying to act nice like a bully who was been reprimanded by a teacher. I did give a statement a couple of days ago that took the heat off of her ¨C is this her form of thanking me? I shake these thoughts off, still afraid that she will lose her temper again. ¡°Copy that, Ma¡¯am!¡± I reply and join my teammates on the lush greenery of northern France. The weather is impeccable, a perfect golden fall-day. But my peace is interrupted by the expenditure of human and feral mana ¨C seems we are a bit late to the party. Whaanga notices the ongoing fight as well and breaks off in a brisk jog, Alica, Jacque and Marley right on her heals. My heart is starting to pound ¨C there it is, that intoxicating feeling of danger!