I do not own Chaotic nor anything related to it. It belongs to TCDigital.
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The Efforts Combined
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"We will be his army," the Mipedians say.
Mudeenu was stripped of his rank. This left a group of soldiers without a leader, a squad that His Majesty very quickly put me in charge of. Not quite an army yet, but there's no shortage of volunteers.
"Minimum age restrictions still apply," I can hear the Mipedian physician outside the examination tent say.
"I'm forty solans old!" a young Mipedian voice says.
The physician sighs. "Your record clearly states that you are thirty-nine, and not even a few days from forty or anything like that."
"You can't keep me from joining the army when I'm only a few months under," the volunteer protests.
I stand up from my chair in the tent and excuse myself. The examinations will do perfectly fine for a while without me supervising. I pull aside the tent flap and step out.
The physician sees me and bows. The volunteer sees the Mipedian do so, then turns and bows as well. "Your Highness," the young Mipedian mutters, "please let me join your army."
"Rise," I say, and the Mipedian straightens up. I look up and down at him, then say, "Why do you want to join?"
"I want to kill some filthy M'arrillians," the volunteer spits.
I press my lips together. "Walk with me." I turn and head for the city gate, and the young Mipedian follows me.
We walk in silence for a while. When we reach the gates, I stop, and the Mipedian stops as well. I turn to him and ask, "What's your name?"
"Owayki, after the ghost-warrior Owayki," the Mipedian says with pride.
I wonder if this Mipedian is a descendant of Owayki. "Well then, Owayki." I point out at the gate. "Say an army of M'arrillians is heading this way. What would you do?"
Owayki mimes drawing a sword and pointing it forward. "I head out to meet them."
"And you plan to kill them all?" I ask with a raised eyebrow.
"They deserve it," he spits.
I resist the urge to sigh in disappointment. "A coral warrior stands in front of you. His chest is plated with violet crystals, and his eyes glow with amber light."
"I slit the wretch's throat," Owayki grins.
"A wretch?" I ask. "Why do you call him that?"
Owayki raises an eye ridge at me. "He's a filthy M'arrillian. Who cares what happens to him?"
"The M'arrillians do," I say.
"Well, that coral-warrior can suck my d***," the Mipedian says.
"Funny you should say that," I mutter as I trace a finger around my neck-
-\/-\/-\/-
Around my neck is a set of chains, freshly tightened after almost being taken off. But the chains are nothing, nothing in comparison to what I'm seeing.
A kha'rall made of violet crystal and glowing amber eyes kneels in front of Aa'une, shaking. Aa'une looks down at him furiously, and he growls, "Try to set the Human loose? K'yall or Pah'ziq, which one told you to do so?"
The kha'rall trembles, but he lifts his face up and stares directly into Aa'une's eyes. "I will not say."
Aa'une growls, and the kha'rall's body spasms. His voice drones emotionlessly, "Both, my Oligarch."
"So," Aa'une snarls, "just following orders, correct?"
The kha'rall violently shakes his head and stares at Aa'une defiantly. "No."
Aa'une blinks. "What?"
"This is wrong," the kha'rall says. "What you're doing to this Human is wrong. What you are doing to the tribe is wrong."
Aa'une's eyes narrow. "I will give you one chance to save yourself, scum."
The kha'rall spits. "You are not fit to be Oli-"
Aa'une grabs the top of the kha'rall's head with one hand and tears away his own loincloth with the other, then pulls the kha'rall's head forward to his waist. The kha'rall punches and kicks while Aa'une grabs his head with both hands and repeatedly pulls him forward, growling and snarling with each thrust-
-\/-\/-\/-
"...and so I watched that kha'rall slowly choke to death," I mutter, still tracing my finger around my neck. "Aa'une didn't stop until he was finished, long after the kha'rall had died, and then he left the creature's body in my cell as a warning to everyone else until the stink was so much that he had it disposed of."
I turn to Owayki. He is staring at me in mute horror. I say, "But why should we care about that wretch, right? He was scum, unfitting to think about, an evil creature just because he was a M'arrillian. He got what he deserved, right? An evil creature like all M'arrillians?"
The Mipedian stands completely still, then he slowly shakes his head.
I draw a sword from my belt and take a hold of its blade before presenting the hilt to the Mipedian. "So tell me, Owayki. Are you prepared to go out and fight? Are you ready to end the lives of a thousand M'arrillians, to make a thousand widows, widowers, and orphans? Are you ready to have their blood on your hands?"
Owayki takes a slow step backwards. "N-no..." he stammers.
I sheathe my sword. "I apologize for telling you that tale," I say. "I should have thought of a better one. I have thought of better ones, when interviewing other volunteers."
"It was my fault," Owayki quickly says. "I shouldn't have said what I said."
I smile. "Let the men and women with hardened hearts fight this one, kid. If you still want to fight when you're older, make sure you have a good reason."
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"We will enhance his form," the Danians say.
"All right, whose bright idea was this?" Manuel's voice says from far away.
I open my eyes. I'm so used to these therapies that waking up from them is not a problem anymore. The actual infection is absolutely terrifying still, but it's a small price to pay.
I pull my arm out from under the blanket and take a look. I'm no longer the skinny man I had been weeks ago, since Manuel finally admitted that I had to look like a leader as fast as I could, though he insisted that he would determine the appropriate rate of muscle growth. And so, in these few weeks, I've developed a musculature that puts many Humans to shame and even starts to rival the average Underworlder.
"Seriously, what is going on up in your insect brains?" Manuel fumes.
"What's wrong?" I ask.
Manuel turns around. "You woke up fast," he mutters.
"What's wrong?" I repeat.
"Technically, nothing," Manuel says. "In my opinion... well, want to take a look between your legs?"
...What?
I flip the blanket off, expecting the worst. It's not what I expect, though.
One of the controllers hisses, "You wanted a proud hero's body for him, Doctor, while still being safe for a Human. We simply started to give His Highness the endowment that a proud Human hero should have."
"I wasn't talking about making his penis bigger!" Manuel screams.
"Manuel?" I say. "Do you think you could say that a little louder? I think there are M'arrillians in the Deepmines that haven't heard you yet. Besides, it's not that much of a difference." At least from before my capture. Being in the Deepmines did not help things down there.
Manuel lowers his voice. "Be honest with me, bugs. You're just doing this for your own entertainment."
The first controller shakes his head. "I simply did what I thought you were asking."
"I as well," says the second.
The third twiddles his thumbs.
Manuel, the other two controllers and I stare at the Danian. Manuel says, "And you?"
The Danian clicks, "I... may have fantasized letting Prince Osiris mount me a few times."
"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," I mutter. "Back to the important matter, are my muscles and tendons equally strengthened? May I begin my exercise program without risking harming myself?"
"You may," the first controller says.
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"We will craft his tools," the Underworlders say.
"Prince Osiris, leading an army, hm?" Chaor chuckles. "This will be interesting, considering that some of the M'arrillians pray to you when they fight and while they rot in our prisons."
"Congratulations on reclaiming Underworld City, Chaor," I say as I sit down. "And what of Lord Van Bloot?"
"He escaped, the worm," Chaor growls.
Lilth sighs. "At least he's no longer a threat. I doubt he'll want to return to the M'arrillians with Aa'une having gone absolutely bats***."
Chaor folds his arms. "Back to what I was saying when you walked in. Captain, hm?"
"Indeed," I sigh. "There's some confusion over whether it's Captain Michael or Captain Osiris."
"Have you got a suit of armor yet?" Chaor asks.
I shake my head. "We aren't sure what size I will be when the Danians' treatment finishes, so we're holding off on making armor."
Chaor grins. "Ulmar!"
A short green goblin-like creature with a white lab coat and an exposed pink brain hurries into Chaor's tent. "Yes, my Lord Chaor?" he says in a screechy voice.
"I want you to show Prince Osiris that battlegear you were developing," Chaor says.
"Right away, Lord Chaor." Ulmar darts out of the tent.
"He's a lot creepier in the flesh," I note.
Lilth laughs. "I know, right?"
Ulmar returns shortly with a bizarre looking helmet strapped to his head, and an assortment of battlegear follows him on a self-driving cart. "Take one of these and use it on me," Ulmar says.
I blink. "Uh, no."
Chaor laughs and lights his hand on fire. "It's not a problem, Osiris." He fires a spray of napalm at Ulmar. My heart stops for a moment. The flaming liquid, however, stops moving inches away from the short creature and falls to the ground.
"See?" Ulmar beams. "Kinetic nullification fields absorb the energy of a moving object headed on a collision course with the wearer, deflecting and stopping projectiles."
Lilth blinks. "What?"
I roll my eyes. "Ulmar made a force field generator."
"Oooh," Lilth says.
"And if I..." I lean forward and try to punch Ulmar's shoulder. I feel absolutely no resistance, and my fist connects with his shoulder. He stumbles back. "Sorry," I say quickly.
"Yes, there is that flaw at the moment.," Ulmar grunts as he rubs his shoulder. "Melee strikes seem to be completely unaffected, but I am quickly coming up with a solution!"
"Well?" Chaor grins. "While I may not be a fan of armor, I can see how a squishy Human like yourself could benefit from this."
"I like it," I grin.
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Up next: The Reflection in the Mirror
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Like I said before, Chaotic belongs to TCDigital.
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