I do not own Chaotic nor anything related to it. It belongs to TCDigital.

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The Reflection in the Mirror

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I am about to become a warrior. Many solans have I trained in the art of sword, shield, and lightning. Before my capture, when I was merely Prince Osiris, training under Mudeenu. Those Lessons well up inside me as I hold my weapons in my hands.

My greatsword. A two-handed blade with a sheath that straps to my back. Heavy enough to split stone in two with a single blow. Designed the cleave through the hardiest of tissue, flesh, bone, and whatnot.

My straight longswords and curved parrying dagger. Swords hang from either hip, and dagger strapped to the side of my leg. Two-weapon combat to unbalance my foe, with several ways to hold them in battle.

My cyclance. A spear stored behind my right arm. Has applications in close combat, but its primary use it for firing quick bursts of electricity and wind.

My aqua shield. Strapped to my left arm and normally left unpowered. Designed with defense in mind, but with it attached to my strong arm I have a tendency to use it as a weapon in its own right rather than as a shield.

Finally, my helm. Dark blue steel, an almost Y-shaped opening at the front that allows me to see, and a pair of curved horns. Of all the tools and battlegear available to me, this is the most important. Ulmar's creation is more or less complete and integrated with the helmet, granting me the equivalent of a full suit of armor when I wear it, with none of the restrictions in motion that physical armor would give.

I look forwards at the mirror in front of me, then turn the helmet around in my hands and slide it over my head. I buckle the securing strap under my chin, then put my arms at my side. I hear the hum of Ulmar's contraption activating, and I feel a tingle move across my skin as the invisible armor of force covers it.

In my reflection, a red light shines through the dark opening in the front of the helmet, and what appears to be deep red and black flames pour from what looks like a pair of glowing eyes. I exhale firmly, and through the opening in front of my mouth erupts a small flame. The helmet is not only a defense, but an offensive weapon as well.

A horned dark-blue helmet with glowing red eyes. A rectangular strip of red cloth hanging in front of my privates. Weapons strapped everywhere. That's all I wear. I look like some kind of primitive, barbaric, mostly-naked demonic warrior. I wonder how well it will strike fear.

Through the mirror, I can see someone approach behind me. It's Isis. She steps closer to me and asks, "May I hold you?"

I close my eyes, inhale through my nose, and exhale through my mouth. "I'm ready," I say.

Isis wraps he arms around my bare chest and holds me tightly. I can feel the faintest glimmer of a dark memory, but I shove it away. Isis mutters, "Eventually I'll be able to just walk up and give you a hug without having to warn you first."

I stroke a hand across her arms. "I can't wait for that day," I say. "I can't wait for a surprise hug, an unexpected kiss. I can't wait for the day that Hera can grab my wrist and drag me over to see some amazing thing. I can't wait until a crowded street is a simply crowded street, rather than a flashback waiting to happen."

Isis carefully rests her forehead on my shoulder. "Just live that long for now, okay?"

Yes... Live that long...

A M'arrillian battalion has been spotted not far from Al Mipedim. My army marches out at noon tomorrow, ready to meet the battalion when night falls. My first battle leading troops into combat, and it's against an army lead by none other than Phelphor.

"I will come back this time," I whisper as I reach back and stroke Isis's cheek. "I promise."

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In a valley created by a set of sand dunes, a large central tent is surrounded by a circle of smaller tents, with another circle of tents surrounding that. Kha'rall march the borders of the camp, but otherwise the camp looks asleep.

The crystal I'm holding quietly hisses, "Orders, Captain Osiris?"

Freeing the M'arrillians' minions is not the ultimate goal of this encounter. In fact, it's unlikely this camp has any to free to begin with. "Do you see spectral viewers on any of the patrols?"

"Each squad I have seen appears to have a kha'rall wielding those," comes the answer. "Make that two kha'rall in each squad."

That's going to nullify Mipedian invisibility advantages somewhat. "Okay, can anyone see a way to bypass these kha'rall without alerting anyone?"

Several voices reply in the negative. I bite my lower lip. "Which directions are the kha'rall looking?"

"Every direction," a voice sighs, "including up."

There goes that idea. "Does anyone see a way to take one of the squads out without alerting them?"

"They're coral-warriors, Captain," someone says. "We don't have enough strength to knock even one out in a single blow from this range, much less four at the same time silently."

"Killing them would be even harder," another voice says.

I hold the crystal tightly in my hands and clench my teeth together. "Mugic will give us away, as will disabling their battlegear."

Several minutes pass with this back and forth, until finally I decide that if a stealthy approach won't work, then maybe something a little more direct. At least, something that looks more direct. "All units, prepare to infiltrate. Time to see exactly how scary I am."

"Captain?" comes a voice over the crystal in my hand. "Are you going to just walk up to them?"

"Pretty much," I say. "While everyone is focusing on me, get in and grab Phelphor. And make sure your mind clasps are on!"

Everyone answers in the affirmative. I take a deep breath, move to the peak of the dune I'm on, then slide down the slope. I reach the bottom, stand up, and slowly walk towards the camp. I'll be spotted in three, two-

"Intruder!" a gravelly voice calls out, and a bright light suddenly shines at me. I see a brief glimpse of something solid flying at me, only to ricochet off the force created by my helmet. Through the light I can see many kha'rall closing in towards my position.

I put up a hand and shout, "Halt!" A plume of fire erupts from my helmet as I speak.

It's a ton more effective than I had anticipated. Every kha'rall stops, looking somewhat perplexed.

Before they can recover, I say amidst most streams of flames, "I am Osiris. Many of you may have heard of me."

By the way their glowing eyes widen, I am guessing that they all have heard of me. Their weapons are still aimed in my direction, but I can see their confidence waning.

I take a step forward. "I come not for you, but for another creature in this camp. His name is Phelphor."

"He's come to kill Phelphor," one of the kha'rall blurts in a frightened voice. "He's only here for Phelphor!" He calls out, "If we let you have him, will you let us go?"

Before I answer, the kha'rall next to the one that had spoken aims a weapon at the first kha'rall's head and-

I shudder inwardly as a shot rings out, and a coral-warrior slumps to the ground. The one that had killed him steps forward. "I am Ptar'yyk, and we will not let you pass."

I force my voice not to waver. "Then I will have to cut you down," I say as I reach back for my greatsword.

A shot rings out, and I feel a spray of sharp metal approach, then reflect away from me. I grab the hilt of my sword and draw it, holding it in front of me.

"It didn't even touch him!" one of the kha'rall cries out.

Several kha'rall drop their weapons and bow to the ground. One cries out, "Oh Osiris, spare us from your wrath-!"

"He's not a god!" Ptar'yyk shouts. "He's a mortal Human. A lone Human!"

I hear a blast of electricity, and a voice from the crystal in my belt mutters, "We, ah, may have just given away our position."

"More intruders!" Ptar'yyk roars. "You useless lot, wake the camp! You lot, confront the new intruders!" A see a blade of ice grow from the kha'rall's wrist. "I'll handle this false god myself!"

The kha'rall scatter. I see a large shape lumbering towards me. I lift my sword and swing it down-

CRASH!

My blade meets a blade of ice over the kha'rall's head. Ptar'yyk flings my sword aside and attempts to stab my stomach. His sword abruptly stops in the air an inch away from my skin. I twist and use the momentum from his deflection to swing my sword in and arc around me and at the kha'rall again.

My blade digs into the creature's stone-like body, directly in the side of his chest, and he cries out in pain. I see a flash of metal as he aims a weapon at my face. His finger flexes, and I see a metal dart stop just before it would hit between my eyes.

"What kind of armor is this?" Ptar'yyk growls and he steps back and wrenches my sword from my grip, still stuck in his body a good ways in. He swings his sword-arm in an arc over his head towards me, where it freezes an inch above my helmet. I dart forward and raise my left arm up, then activate my aqua shield as I swing it down. The projected energy of the shield spring to life while I swing, and it hits the hilt of my greatsword, still stuck in the side of the kha'rall.

...A level functions when an input force applied to one end transfers to the other, the output force, with the fulcrum as a point of rotation for the whole tool. The closer the fulcrum is to the end of the lever, the more power applied to the output force over a shorter distance. In this case, the input force is my own swing, added with the energy of the aqua shield. The fulcrum is the point where my sword meets the stone body of the kha'rall. The fulcrum is very close to the kha'rall's body itself.

CRACK!

I see a fissure break its way across Ptar'yyk's stone chest as he cries out in pain. I grab the hilt of my sword, draw it back, and swing hard.

I feel little resistance as my sword cuts through the kha'rall. His upper body, consisting of a head, arms, and the upper half of a chest, lifts into the air a little, then crashes heavily to the ground. His lower body, meaning the lower half of a chest, a stomach, and four legs, stumbles to the side and falls to the ground. Both halves stop twitching rather quickly.

I look around. Things seem to have gotten very messy, very quickly. Kha'rall and fluidmorphers and chieftains are everywhere, locked in combat with my Mipedian army. I don't see any casualties on either side yet, beside the kha'rall I just killed. Speaking of...

I raise my sword again and swing it down of the kha'rall's neck, which breaks easily. Then I lift the creature's head into the air, and I let out a roar. The sound of my voice amplifies and resounds throughout the camp.

That got everyone's attention. When all eyes turn towards me, both M'arrillian and Mipedian, I bellow, "Any of you who wishes to fight against me, Prince Osiris of the Mipedians, look and see what fate has in store for you! Fight, and die! Flee, and I will ensure that my army will not pursue you!"

Five seconds. It took five seconds for it to register in my foes' heads what I had said. First one by one, then in droves, many M'arrillians run for the hills.

I drop the kha'ralls head behind me as I take a step forward. I do not see Phelphor. Did he run? No, I would have seen that. He's still here.

The remaining M'arrillians quickly realize how outnumbered they are now. Many drop to the ground and start whispering prayers. Others turn and run. Some try to fight and are quickly cut down.

"Where is Phelphor?!" I shout.

Many hands point towards the central tent. I walk over there and motion for a group of soldiers to surround it while I head for the tent's entrance. I pull the tent flap aside-

Thwip!

A spear of ice stops directly in front of my chest, then falls noiselessly onto the sand. I look at it, then up at a trembling red, frog-like creature. His hands are pointed at me, with more ice spikes protruding from his fingers.

"That was close," I say as I close the tent flap behind me. "If that had hit me, the whole world might have ended."

Phelphor's eyes widen. "N-no, you can't be him."

I reach my hand up to the buckle keeping my helmet in place. This is very risky, but he just saw an ice spear stop right in front of me. He won't fire another while he thinks I can block it. I undo the buckle and pull my helmet off.

Phelphor's hands start shaking violently, and he takes a few steps back. "M-Michael," he mutters.

I grin widely before sliding the helmet back on my head. "Your battalion has scattered. You have been abandoned." I put my hand out, as if offering him to take my hand. "Submit, and be taken captive. Run, and I swear that your death will be the most painful, drawn out experience that I can dream of."

Phelphor flinches at the word dream. He looks as if he's about to die from fear.

He needs more encouragement. "There is nowhere that you can run where I can't find you, no firepower that you can muster that I won't face. If you wish to fight me, know this..." I exhale violently to create a plume of fire. "There are only two outcomes to our fight. Either I kill you, or you kill me and all of Perim vanishes."

We want Phelphor alive for now. Still, I find myself almost hoping that he'll put up resistance. I have so many weapons that I have not yet used. Maybe I'll use them all on him-

"I surrender," Phelphor whimpers.

I feel my bloodlust fade as Phelphor lowers his hands and sinks to his knees.

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Up next: The Blood-Stained Cape

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Like I said before, Chaotic belongs to TCDigital.

To those of you who wish to have a better picture of what the helmet looks like, turn your attention to:

quazerflame . deviantart art/Fourteen-Times-in-Perim-Helm-of-Osiris-3679690 43

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