Super-Soldier in Another World

No, not a full on mutant, but at least a deviation of the standard genetic template that was common for humans. Considering that all three of these people had the same kind of mutation, it was safe to assume a majority of the local populace would also possess this minor change in biology.

But… perhaps the change was deeper beneath the surface? If Lance truly possessed no bionics, then perhaps her skeletal structure was different from standard humans? Thicker bones perhaps? If so, then wouldn’t her limbs be broader than that? Lance and these men didn’t seem any wider than a normal person, in fact, they seemed thinner, more lean.

“This construct here saved my life.” Lance explained to the guards “I deem it safe for its entry if it wishes, and I will take care to ensure it causes no harm.”

The guards looked to one another, sharing a concerned look before turning their attention back to Lance “As the watcher says, their life on the line.” One of them said, then they both stepped to the side, holding their spears tall “A real golem… by the Pillars.” One of them whispered with an awed stare for Hoplite.

Lance merely nodded at the words and passed through the open gate wordlessly, with Hoplite following right behind her. The guards' eyes followed him as he walked through the gate behind Lance, and he could see them turning their heads to stare at his back. If they knew he could still see them by way of his rear camera, would they have still done that? Probably.

Why would Lance's life be on the line? Perhaps it was a sort of warning, that if a watcher brought in a malignant stranger, there would be severe consequences. Hoplite would keep that in mind moving forward. A big risk, bringing in a man who had earlier threatened her to comply with his orders. Had she originally planned to lead him into a trap to attempt to neutralize him? That could still be a factor, Hoplite would keep on his guard in case of an ambush. After all, she did say ‘ensure he would cause no harm.’ The meaning behind those words could be manyfold.

As they passed into the forest, Hoplite could see the gate re-lower from his rear camera, aided by the prehensile roots. Did they somehow manage to train this creature to do that? How does one domesticate something like this? Would that really keep out the fiends? If these creatures were determined enough, they could likely scale the wall, aided by the many grooves afforded them by the dozens of roots making up its surface… that is unless this wall was capable of repelling climbers. If the roots could drink up a whole gate, why not suck in invaders attempting to climb it? Crushing their bones or whipping them from its surface with its tendrils?

“The Harkhall will be at the Ilum tree in the center of the Bastion, we’ll get there quicker if we run. Just ignore anyone who stares, we don’t get a lot of visitors with a watcher's blessing. Even less so when that visitor is a golem.” Lance said, breaking into a run “Not that we’ll see a lot of folk out tonight, we elves prefer to wander about during the day… Though the falling star is sure to have stirred a few from their homes.”

Hoplite followed suit, easily keeping her pace as they moved through the woods. Is that what these colonists called themselves? Elves? That was a fictional species wasn’t it? Hoplite distinctly remembered reading a book when he was but a child, a book that held a plethora of fantasy creatures within its pages, including elves. He hadn’t thought about that book in years… he couldn’t quite place a name to it anymore… it had to have been over two-hundred years since he had read it.

From what he could remember, elves had pointed ears and lean frames, much like Lance and those guards had. Perhaps they had access to that novel and had decided to name their branch of humanity after the elves? It wasn’t the most ridiculous name he’d seen branches come up with. This colony definitely had to have been lost before first contact with the Final Kind, based on Lance’s initial reaction to him talking about them. She had seemed completely ignorant of what the Final Kind were… perhaps she had misheard him earlier?

“Have your people made any contact with the Final Kind yet?” Hoplite asked her.

“I know not what you speak of.” She replied nearly instantly.

That pretty much confirmed it. There was a chance that just Lance herself was ignorant of their existence, but that was slim. A lost colony from before the first contact era… these people had to have been alone for over five-hundred years at the very least. Yet they still kept with Jynesian standard, the language they spoke hadn't deviated at all since losing contact with Terna. An impressive feat, considering how long they had been isolated.

During their entire sprint to reach the Harkhall, they had passed several dozen moving trees, some of which seemed to actually move out of their path as Lance and Hoplite approached. There were some elves that had been awakened by news of this ‘falling star’ all gawking at him wide-eyed as he followed after Lance. They were dressed in fine clothing, looking the furthest thing from destitute but not appearing pompous. His earlier hypothesis was confirmed as he saw that all these people bore pointed ears. Unlike Lance, these other elves seemed to have bright blonde hair, so much so they almost seemed to be white. Thankfully none tried to stop them as they made way for this ‘Ilum tree’.

At some point he would need to clarify to Lance that this ‘falling star’ was nothing more than his escape shuttle. For these elves to call it such was… odd. Why not immediately assume it was a meteorite? It was primitive to think that a star could fall. Perhaps these people had regressed more than he initially thought.

Further and further they went, passing the occasional elf or moving tree, the landscape otherwise unchanging save for the thick roots jutting up from the earth. As they drew closer to the Ilum tree, Hoplite noticed massive roots rising up from the earth in patches, all seemingly leading toward the center of these woods. The most notable thing about these large roots had to be that they bore that very same green glow as the root wall.

The moving trees didn’t bear this glowing green glow in their own writhing tendrils… were these roots running all the way back to the Bastion? They then entered a clearing at long last, bare of any trees but gently writhing with glowing green roots overtop midnight dark soil. If these were coming from the center, then that must mean that-

The largest tree Hoplite had ever seen came into view, easily towering over the highest skyscraper. Had there been any clouds in the sky, he doubted he’d be able to see the huge branches high above, their huge leaves casting a massive shadow on the comparably tiny forest below. Despite its size, the tree was almost difficult to see in the night, for its bark was a deep obsidian hue, the green moonlight illuminating its black silhouette. For a moment, he slowed his stride, taking in the immensity of this impossible creature, this pillar of darkness that split the sky in twain. This tree had to be as large- no, larger than the Sparrow. How- how was it even possible that he didn’t see this on entry? In fact, how had he not seen it looming in the night sky? How didn’t he see it from the Sparrow itself while he was in orbit? Perhaps it simply hadn't been quite that large, but still.

“Impressive isn’t it?” Lance asked “Ancient one, I’m sure even one of you could appreciate the majesty of the Ilum Tree.”

“You said it was a big tree.” Hoplite told her, still marveling at the thing.

“Did I lie?” Lance asked with a gesture towards the Ilum tree, a tinge of sarcasm in her tone.

“No.” Hoplite replied.

How did this creature not destroy all other plant life around it? For a creature of such size to exist here, the surrounding wilderness should be a barren wasteland. How nutrient dense was this soil? Was it an adult version of those moving trees he saw earlier? Were those its young? The questions whirled through his mind uncontrollably, frustrating him until he turned his focus back to the task at hand.

“How do we reach the Harkhall?”

“It should have happened already…” She said, slowing to a brisk walk “We still haven’t been taken.”

“What do you mean-”

In a single millisecond everything around them suddenly vanished. The dark night outside had instantly changed into a large brightly lit circular chamber of gnarled brown wood. Shocked, he immediately raised the Magnus, aiming it at the dozens of elves suddenly surrounding his position above him.

They were all seated in benches that had seemingly been grown from the wood beneath their feet, sitting high above Lance and Hoplite. A glowing yellow crystalline structure pulsed above in the center of the ceiling, suspended by glowing green roots that seemed too thin to hold up the tank-sized crystals weight.

It had to be around a hundred feet up from where Hoplite stood. If it fell then it would crush him and Lance both, as the crystal's circumference matched that of the pit they now stood in. It likely wouldn’t kill him, as the Adium plating of the Phalanx armor was sturdy enough to withstand practically anything. The trauma from all that force passing through the suit might prove to be an issue though. Had that been Lance’s plan from the start? To crush Hoplite beneath the weight of that crystal?

Time seemed to come to a standstill for a moment as Hoplite’s co-processor worked to speed his thinking.

He would neutralize her after he escaped from this pit, that would be no issue, those walls were easily scalable so long as he built up enough momentum. Hoplite would climb up, eliminate Lance and any other hostiles in the area before capturing the unarmed traitors above. Yet… he hesitated, for just that brief instant. Why would Lance lure him into a trap that would just get her killed as well? After all, there was no easy escape from the deadfall trap above. Perhaps if she hugged the wall?

If Lance tried to climb up and out of the pit while telling Hoplite to stay put, then he would know for sure that it was a trap, but until that happened, he’d not open fire… not yet. With that decided, time appeared to resume. All these thoughts had passed through Hoplite’s mind in just that one instant, the Gitmustech co-processor installed in his brain again proving its worth.

“It’s okay!” Lance shouted, trying and failing to push the barrel of his gun downward “We’re here, this is the Harkhall!"

Hoplite wouldn’t remove his finger from the trigger or lower his shotgun until he was absolutely certain that nothing in this chamber was of any immediate danger to him. The fact that Lance did not scamper off towards any of the gnarled walls helped to convince him that this was indeed not a convoluted deadfall trap, but he’d not drop his guard yet.

The ten elves in the high seats seemed to not care about the weapon Hoplite aimed at them. They were as stony-faced as he himself was, though none would be able to see Hoplite’s expression through the helmet. The golden glow of the crystal illuminated their well-dressed forms, each wearing well-made wool or clinging silks. Hoplite hoped that his shock at being teleported hadn’t been shown through his body language, but he was certain it had, after all…

Teleportation was supposed to be impossible, even for the Final Kind. What could these people be capable of if they could achieve something so utterly unfeasible? He would need to confiscate that equipment, whatever it was, as soon as the opportunity presented itself, it could change the tide in the war.

A war they had already lost?

He internally berated himself for the thought. Hoplite was still alive, and so were the humans that escaped the Sparrow. As long as even a few of them remained, the war was still ongoing. He then turned his attention back to the situation at hand.

A circular wall penned Hoplite and Lance below the elves, who continued to stare down at them disapprovingly. There were ten sets of eyes there, all looking expectant. He then noticed that those disapproving glares were directed at Lance, not himself.

Lance stared back up at him pleadingly, still trying to bring the barrel of the gun down "Please!" She whispered urgently.

Hesitantly, he complied, remembering the words those gate guards had spoken to her earlier. Hoplite did not lower his guard though, he would be ready to bring up his shotgun to blast the instant something went awry.

She nodded thankfully and turned her gaze toward the elves above.

"I as a watcher of the wood have come to deliver important news." She announced loudly.

"Out with it then Lancela." A matriarchal elf woman said coldly.

Matriarchal, but she bore no wrinkles to show as much. It was those bright green eyes that conveyed the impression, showing wisdom beyond her years. Perhaps elves could live longer than normal humans, as in that book he had read as a child? She had horrendously long blonde hair that fell around her seat in waves, spilling over to brush the bare wood beneath her feet. Hoplite couldn't even imagine the hassle of caring for a tenth of that mop, why had this woman grown it out so long?

She then looked from Lance to him, her pale green eyes seeming to glow as they took him in from head to foot. Hoplite blinked and visibly shook his head before looking the elf woman over again. She really was a gorgeous woman he supposed… Those thick curves, that perfect symmetrical face, that pale supple skin... The way that tight high-neck silk dress clung to her form... She looked so proper yet so sultry and seductive... Hoplite suddenly felt a wave of dizziness come over him. She truly was the most beautiful woman he had ever-

Hoplite felt frozen for a millisecond before he was able to finally tear his eyes away from that bright gaze. What on earth was he thinking of? Where had those intrusive thoughts come from? He would need to submit himself to the Seventh Arm if these base urges returned. A Hoplite... Hoplite should not feel that way! The woman seemed taken aback for the briefest of instants before her face resumed that cool stony calm, looking quickly from Hoplite to Lance.

None of the others spoke.

"Fiends have come close to the Bastion Harkmother… I swear it on my family and honor, they are no more than a few miles from here." Lance told them, her words slicing through the silence like a razor “We must call the Tongues for aid, even Akan-Dar if we must. If the Fiendwall has fallen, the Death Spiral will spread.”

The Harkhall all looked to each other wide-eyed, some even gasping aloud. Those who had gasped put hands to mouths, looking... embarrassed? For what, Hoplite had no idea, but the Harkmother spared quick withering glances to those who had.

"Also…” Lance said, drawing their attention back to her “This golem saved my life and brought me here to deliver this news, I ask to allow it sanctuary until it is ready to move on." Lance told them, gesturing to Hoplite.

"He." The Harkmother said, crossing her arms "I know for a certainty that this 'golem' is a human." She said, staring at him "And a strong-minded one at that…" She added thoughtfully "My gaze held him no longer than an untrained hand on a slipfish, but the fact it held him at all reveals his true nature. You've brought a human into the Harkhall Lancela but at no fault of yours." She continued more sympathetically "Unfortunately… This still means that you must be stripped of rank. We will allow you to stay in the Faewood as you wish, but you will never watch again. Forgive me, I do not wish this upon you, but a mistake of this caliber made by a watcher must be punished. As Draoi decrees."

Lance went wide-eyed, staring dumbfounded at Hoplite before falling to her knees "That's not fair… w-we allow men into the Faewood and even the Bastion sometimes…" she said, a stutter to her voice as she stared up at the Harkhall. Suddenly, anger flashed in her eyes and seeped into her voice “I didn’t know he was human, I swear it! Draoi must have decreed something for a situation like this, you cannot strip my place!" She shouted desperately.

"I do not doubt you… But it is as Foundation commanded millennia ago. The Harkhall does not question the will of the Pillar-Gods Lancela. I am sorry… but you are dead to the watchers now." The Harkmother said with a regretful tinge to her tone "There are other societies you can join, perhaps the Tree-Hunters… or the Bramble-Guard?" She asked, attempting to sound soothing.

Lance said nothing, merely sitting there and staring up at the gathered members of the Harkhall with disbelief. The other members of the Hall averted their gaze from Lance’s pleading eyes, shame plain on their faces. All except for one. An elf man with blonde hair and fiery red eyes. That elf glared down at Lance with barely contained anger, a large vein bulging on his reddening face as if a hot tube of magma lay just beneath his pale flesh.

The Harkmother herself actually seemed to be genuinely displeased with this outcome, perhaps there could be a way for Hoplite himself to change things.

There are certain aspects about him that weren’t technically classified… he could not go into details, else Hoplite would have no choice but to kill every single living being in this room. He had to word this carefully, but first, Hoplite needed to know what these elves had planned for him.

"What do you intend to do with me?" Hoplite asked in a flat tone.

"You… Well, there isn't a specific law for a situation such as this. No human has ever set foot in the Harkhall." She explained "Foundation never told our forefathers a protocol for if this were to happen..." She said, voice trailing off as she placed a finger to her chin, brow furrowed.

"I'm not completely human." Hoplite told her "So you must restore Lance's rank."

Everyone in the chamber stared at the Harkmother, even Lance, who wore a confused expression.

"My eyes make human men unable to resist my allure, it is how I test… uncertain visitors." She told him "I felt your eyes on me, lustful and hungry as you felt mine on yours."

"I resisted." He told her. "By your laws, I believe that you must restore her rank."

Silence passed between the members of the Harkhall, all seeming to stare deeply into one another's eyes. Why weren’t they saying anything? Another elf; a tall lean fellow with long black hair and smooth features, shot a glance at the Harkmother. They both stared at one another for a long while before finally she smiled.

“While a pure-blooded human is not allowed by Draoi’s law within this hall… I suppose that one such as you would not count as a full-on human. Geravall tells me you are certainly part man… part something else. By technicality, I rule that Lance keeps her rank as watcher." She said, the relief in her voice seeming genuine.

“This can not be!” The angry red-eyed elf shouted, standing from his bench to glare down at Hoplite.

He was a short elf, thin with nary a muscle stitched onto his willowy frame. His angry red eyes stared out from beneath a brow that seemed always furrowed in a glare, focused completely on Lance.

“Even if he possesses the smallest drop of human blood, Foundation has ruled that she must be stripped of rank! You will not bend the rules of our lord Draoi!” He shouted, a vein popping on his forehead as his voice echoed through the chamber “Perhaps a new member should be chosen as Speaker, as our good mother is clearly incompetent.” The elf spat, his voice laced with flaming venom.

“You break even the most basic of rules by simply speaking aloud Terlin, do not preach to me about bending rules when you yourself outright break them.” The Harkmother replied coolly, lifting a slender brow and smirking as if she were amused “In the millenia that you have served the hall Fire-Eyes, you had always obeyed every rule to perfection, but today you have violated that. Perhaps we should strip you of your undeserved position among us. After all, an elf that acts the child has no place here in the Harkhall… perhaps you should simply stay silent,” She emphasized with a cool glare “Else I may decide to begin a new vote as soon as this session is concluded. One that may result in your replacement with someone more… suited to such a mature role.”

Terlin opened his mouth again, but before he could utter another world, the entire hall of elves honed in on the man. Whatever Terlin had been about to say was stuffed back down his throat with an awkward cough. Terlin then averted his gaze from the other elves, his jaw clenched tightly, to the point where Hoplite believed that the elf might just crack a tooth. How this man was ever elected to this seemingly important place amongst elven society, Hoplite did not know.

Soon after that, the other members of the Hall began staring into one another’s eyes, with Terlin eventually looking up to meet the Harkmother’s. Fiery red met brilliant green and the two glared at one another for a long while. Hoplite was not sure as to what they were doing…

But he was slowly growing irritated with the time this meeting was taking.

After a few more agonizingly long minutes, the Harkmother finally spoke “It is done. You will retain your rank as watcher, Lancela Trinkit.”

Lance quickly stood, bowing to the Harkmother and then quickly turning to beam up at Hoplite “Thank you Hoplite, I won’t forget this, truly.” She whispered with a grateful smile.

He nodded and looked from Lance; or Lancela, according to the Harkmother, to the dark-haired elf man who must have been Geravall. Clearly these elves were capable of communicating with one another via eye contact alone… or perhaps the eye contact was just something of cultural significance to these people… No, they had to be communicating somehow, else they would have not reached any kind of decision today. Did they all possess matching communication implants?

More important than this eye-contact communication however was Geravall himself. He had confirmed to the Harkmother that Hoplite was indeed not fully human… but if Geravall knew that…

Then he somehow must have had intel on project CHIMERA.