Super-Soldier in Another World

Hoplite considered his options as he stared down at Kid’ka. Should he disarm him before he had the chance to swing his blade? The man wasn’t readying to fight just yet from the look of it, his hand was still well away from the hilt of his sword… He must have been waiting for Hoplite’s reply. He supposed that he could just refuse the challenge, and he would need to. Tomah was a fight to the death, from Hoplite’s understanding, so why did Kid’ka want to die? There was no way that he’d stand a chance against Hoplite in a real conflict, surely he was aware of that fact? Unless Tomah was not strictly a fatal challenge? Was this just going to be a friendly bout? It didn’t matter, he had no interest in participating in such a thing. It was a waste of energy, Kid’ka would be hungry after being defeated and their resources needed to be conserved for the journey ahead.

Hoplite said so aloud, causing Kid’ka’s lips to purse. Twindil simply nodded along with his words, seeming to agree with his point of view on the matter. Kid’ka, however, did not seem keen on Hoplite’s logic.

“W-we could limit the duel to a single stroke,” He reasoned, adjusting his red cape with a shaky hand, “We will both swing at once, whoever gets closest to connecting first is the winner.”

“You can’t win.” Hoplite said simply, moving past him toward Michael and Lance who stood a few dozen paces away, watching silently.

Alistair whistled with an amused look on his face, and Elum grimaced, pinching the brow of his nose as Kid’ka growled out, “You don’t know that.”

It was a strange tone, coming from such a socially awkward man. How had Hoplite offended him? It was merely a statement of fact, there was no possible way for Kid’ka to win. It was as simple as that.

“I do.” Hoplite replied curtly as he continued his march.

Michael stared at Kid’ka as if he’d gone insane. Of course, being a marine, he knew just what Hoplite was capable of, and as such, he knew that Kid’ka could not possibly pull off a win.

“Are you scared of me, Hero of the Wall?” Kid’ka asked with heat in his tone, “Perhaps it is you who cannot defeat me.”

A strange heat spread from the back of Hoplite’s head, spreading down to his neck and nearly causing him to shudder. Not with fear… this was an emotion he’d felt before in the heat of battle with the Final Kind, one he could easily recognize as it reddened his face and bulged his veins.

It was rage.

Why did such a small provocation irritate him so? It was childish and unbecoming of one of Terna’s best… yet no matter how hard he tried, he could not seem to reign it in. Why did his cold discipline fail to cool the heat of anger welling up within him? Was this Kazon at work again, pushing him to the brink of blind fury? He briefly glanced at the face’s of everyone else present, but found that they all seemed calm. They weren’t snapping at one another or glaring in any way, all attention seemed purely focused on him and Kid’ka. Was this immature anger coming purely from Hoplite himself? Was there no outside factor forcing him into this borderline tantrum? A cold nervousness soon began to form a pit in his gut as he considered this fact.

He did not want to become a person… such a path led to dark places for his kind. What if he ended up betraying Lord Jyn as he almost had after being lied to by Hoplite Twenty-Five? He shook his head and kept walking away as he pondered this, his rancor cooling. What if-

“So you are scared.” Kid’ka snarled, crossing his arms, “I did not think that you would be a coward.”

Hoplite whirled with blurring speed and stomped over to the arrogant little man, his steps seeming to shake the whole rest stop as almost every single body moved to intercept his path. Lance grabbed onto his gauntlet and strained, trying to slow him but failing as her heels dragged on the stone. Michael, with wide frightful eyes said something quickly to Hoplite, basically having to jog backwards to avoid being pushed over. With the red filling his vision and clouding his hearing though, he found that the words were inaudible.

Twindil had tried to grip Kid’ka’s ear, but the man swatted her hand away as he continued to glare up at Hoplite’s helmet, undeterred by the quick-approaching mass of metal. Alistair and Elum seemed to be trying to de-escalate Kid’ka, though their words and logic seemed to slide right off the man as he kept his steady gaze locked on Hoplite. Theopalu and Nolvi, for their part, seemed mostly uninterested in this turn of events. The old elf simply sat down, cross-legged before leaning his chin into the palm of his hand, looking bored and tired as ever. Nolvi only stared, though not at the coming conflict, but at the stonework at her feet.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was aware that he was acting like a child, but the anger flooding his veins seemed to have full control of him, and his icy discipline easily melted away from the heat of his fury. It felt almost like it had when Theopalu had angered him back in the wagon, though not quite as intense.

Hoplite overrode the dozens of voices shouting for reason, nearly shouting, “I accept.”

Kid’ka then backpedaled from the grasping hands of his companions, staying well out of their reach with little effort. Hoplite shrugged out of Lance’s grasp and stomped over to a clear space, well away from the observing party until he was standing directly across from his challenger. Kid’ka rested a hand on the blade of his sword, his stare as unwavering as Hoplite’s own.

“I see that you two are dead set on this foolishness, but I will not allow you to kill one another.” Twindil said, “We are to be companions on this quest, not foes. Do you understand? Hold back.” Twindil said in a tone that brooked no argument.

“Wait,” Lance said, stepping between the two of them, “You were just talking about how this was a waste of effort, and you were right. This is a foolish thing to be doing now, I wouldn’t have expected you of all people to act like this. Is there something wrong? Does Kazon have his talons in you both again?” She asked, her eyes flicking in Kid’ka’s direction.

Twindil shook her head, “It is unlikely, I think we’d all be feeling the hatred right now… unless the Lord of Hate can be selective. I am not sure.” She admitted, “It would take immense skill to accomplish that if he’s far off, more skill than he should have.”

“He’s been alive for over a millenia,” Elum stated, “Maybe he can?”

Twindil shook her head, “I do not think so. You should know how wily and fickle Foundation can be if cast from a great distance.”

Elum nodded, scratching a single red cheek as he considered this.

Lance’s lips tightened as she glared up at Hoplite, “If that’s what’s going on, then why are you choosing to act like a bull-headed ape?” She asked, wagging a finger right in front of his helmet. She had to stand on her tip-toes in order to accomplish this. “Let’s just go and get settled in for the night, you need rest for the journey tomorrow.”

The rational part of his brain agreed with Lance whole-heartedly, but the heat in his blood simply would not be sated until he put Kid’ka in his place. Again a small knot of cold fear formed in his gut, a fear of the return of human emotion. If Hoplite thawed, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to go back to being the tool he was meant to be… Which was exactly what happened to Twenty-Five. Unfortunately, that cold fear did nothing to stifle the rage filling him. It was like dropping an ice-cube into a pool of roiling magma.

“It is too late.” Kid’ka said sharply, “He has already agreed to Tomah, please stand aside.”

Elum snorted, “Of course you can talk normal now that you’re about to fight. Why is that?” He asked, a single white brow quirking.

Kid’ka did not reply.

“It will only be one blow.” Hoplite told Lance, “Then it will be done.” She shook her head, clearly exasperated by his behavior. “I’ll hold back.” He reassured her, picking her up by the shoulders and setting her down out of his path.

She seemed greatly angered by this, judging by the way she had slapped his breastplate once her feet were on the ground again. Her attack had been slowed greatly by the kinetic shield surrounding him, so when the blow had connected, it barely made a sound. Lance seemed shocked by this before she regained her composure, crossing her arms as she glared up at him.

“Don’t do that again.” She told him with a huff, “And come on, you know this is stupid. You said it yourself, why waste the energy?” She asked irritatedly.

“This won’t use up any significant amount, it isn’t like this is going to be hard.” Hoplite told her without turning his head.

Kid’ka visibly bristled at the words, brows knitting together above a furious glare. He drew his longsword, holding it at the ready before approaching Hoplite. Elum, Twindil, Michael, and Alistair all stepped aside, forming an oval semi-circle around them. The two then began to close the space between themselves, Hoplite drawing the Sectis and holding it in a reverse grip. Lance opened her mouth, likely to try to deter the coming conflict, but just as quickly shut it, shaking her head as she stared at the two men with annoyed concern.

The rest just watched silently, arranged in a semi-circle around him and Kid’ka. Once they were finally within striking distance of one another, they lashed out. Time slowed for Hoplite, as it often did when in conflict, and he was shocked to see that Kid’ka’s swing was coming at a remarkable speed… Near-superhuman in fact. He doubted that any normal person would be able to see the strike coming. It was incredibly impressive for a non-augmented human to accomplish.

Hoplite deflected the blade with the Sectis just before it connected with his breastplate, knocking Kid’ka’s arm in the air before Hoplite counter-thrusted for the man’s throat. He stopped just before the Sectis could penetrate, leaving it a mere inch from the man’s neck.

“Dead.” Hoplite said simply before sheathing the knife.

A sense of self-satisfaction came over him then. He felt the muscles in his face morph it into a strange expression, one he’d never made before. The sides of his mouth quirked up in a smirk as his eyes narrowed lazily. Was this… smugness? His mouth seemed to open against his will, ready to spill out immature insults that would do nothing to de-escalate the situation. He wanted to belittle Kid’ka, to tell him that his form was trash and that he should just give up swordplay entirely. He wanted to say that no one so weak would have been able to defeat him and that this was going to have been the outcome no matter what. He wanted to brag about the foes he’d fought and killed that would make Kid’ka look pathetic. His mind worked quickly to produce these taunts, surprising him with just how varied and vile they were. He was shocked that his mind was even capable of readying such unneeded garbage to spew…

This wasn’t normal. He was thawing more quickly than he had when stranded with Twenty-Five… but why? And why now of all times? Steely discipline seized his disobedient lips and held them firmly shut. Kid’ka stared at his sword in shock before looking at the Sectis sheathed at Hoplite’s shoulder.

“A fine blade to deflect my Reaver without a scratch…” The man stated, holding his sword up to inspect its edge, “And you have fast hands as well. Tomah is yours.” He finished, sheathing his blade at his belt before turning away from Hoplite. His hand shook lightly on the hilt of his sword, either from grief at his loss or barely contained rage, Hoplite wasn’t sure.

At his words and behavior, the smugness in Hoplite’s face melted away. Instead, guilt began to eat at his insides for coming up with all those rude things to say… despite Hoplite not even uttering any of them aloud. For some reason he felt the need to try to… to try and… to try and make Kid’ka feel… better?

“...You have fast hands too.” He told Kid’ka after a brief silence, “There aren’t many people that can move that way. It is impressive.”

At these words, the shaking of Kid’ka’s hand seemed to ease, and he turned back around, a pleasant smile on his face. “Thank you, I appreciate your praise. Let us have Tomah again in the future, when I have grown stronger.”

Hoplite simply nodded, his shoulders easing as an alien relief began to fill him. Why was he happy that he had not left Kid’ka offended? Normally, he wouldn’t have cared in the slightest… but now…

“Affirmative.” He replied before promptly moving away.

He wanted to inspect those strange little bowl-like grooves he’d seen earlier. What was their function? Were they meant to be fire pits after all? Where would the smoke go if that were the case? What would be burned, there was no wood here besides what was packed into the cart… unless that was what was intended? Were travelers expected to bring their own wood to burn? That might take up needed cargo space depending on what was being hauled.

He almost sighed. He was only trying to distract himself from his thawing emotions… deep down, he knew this. There had to be a way to reverse this, to become cold and lifeless once more. But how?

Lance and Michael followed after him as he went, the latter looking exhausted while the former looked mildly irritated. Michael would get his sleep here soon, and Lance… why did he feel the need to try and calm her mood? She was an adult, she should realize that this fight had been a decision between him and Kid’ka and leave it at that.

…

…

…

Theopalu stared at Hoplite out of the corner of his eye. Young Lancela really seemed to be giving him a good prodding for his behavior. She was acting like she was his damn wife, nagging him for getting into a bar brawl. That might not be a good idea for her at this point in time… considering what Theopalu had inadvertently done to him. It really was an accident… How was Theopalu to know that Hoplite possessed the blood of a Dragon? Considering how cold and disciplined Hoplite normally was, he had to have been crafted from childhood to be a warrior, at least that was his theory… but ever since Theopalu had ignited the heat of fury in his blood, there had been a subtle change in the massive man.

It was only natural, his kind and the children of Dragons have never gotten along. It was an almost animal-like instinct, and Theopalu himself felt that long forgotten rage fill him at the mere sight of the Outworlder. Only his millennias long life of discipline had managed to keep it hidden and in check, but he hated Hoplite with every fiber of his being. It was something he was almost glad for, Theopalu had barely felt anything for thousands of years, so to feel something so strongly again… it made him borderline joyous.

But only borderline. The hate he felt for Hoplite kept it from crossing the threshold into happiness, but still this was preferable to nothing, he admitted to himself. The Outworlder had done nothing to slight him, nor was he an old enemy from ages past… meaning that he could only be the child of a Dragon, or that he possessed the blood of one.

A slew of intrusive thoughts began to permeate his mind, plotting on the best way to kill Hoplite before he could grow to be a real threat. He dismissed these thoughts and buried them, unwanting and unwilling to commit to any of them. He had no real interest in ending the Outworlder’s life, it was merely his instincts that desired it, but not Theopalu himself.

He would ignore them.

He eased into a slouch before coming to sit cross-legged, his eyes heavy despite his ravenous hunger. Thankfully no one had questioned him too much on why he had to consume so much food in a day, if they found out, they’d surely boot him from their little party. Well, maybe they would anyway. They could not afford to be rid of him quite yet, as they would surely die in the Fiendwood without his guidance.

Even if they bore divine blood as he suspected, these young Pillar-Born could not withstand the terrors of Kazon’s realm alone, not yet. Theopalu rubbed at tired eyes, yawning as everyone began chattering. Talking took up so much effort, yet everyone seemed to be eager to waste their energy on yapping. They should be getting as much sleep as they can.

It did not take long for Theopalu to fall into a semi-slumber. Even if he was an elf, having a body this old meant that he needed quite a bit of rest. Could it be time for a switch? Maybe… that would likely happen quite a few times in the days to come, and no doubt this party would have questions from him that he would not wish to answer. Soon, the chattering voices of his young companions faded into incomprehensible jargon before he heard nothing at all.

That night, he dreamt of a gigantic crimson octopus, floating in a black void. White pinpricks surrounded the creature, stretching out in their multitudes like grains of sand. In this void, the octopus seemed to travel for eternity, clearly lost as it wandered the infinite blackness, using the white pinpricks to guide its way. Eventually, the octopus found a blue and green sphere, its tendrils reaching out toward it to grasp it with a desperate tightness.

And it never let go.