Disclaimer: I don't know how military culture works.

Also happy Ramadhan everyone

If you're fasting, let us hope that the food our mothers make will not tempt us lol.

Feared Reverence

Under normal circumstances, Carrius Commodus would enjoy the view he is seeing: Tall trees, untouched virgin lands, and a creek passing through the serene forest to complement the canvas. It should've been an enjoyable view, far from the unpleasant sound of civilization, the depressive and repressive feelings from the Citadel to Palaven, and all the desolate worlds and asteroids with their unwanted discomfort of environments. He should have been relaxing, not having to glance at his six and his surroundings every time the sound of birds whistling and branches being snapped by himself or his subordinate.

Visually, there's nothing wrong with the forest, nothing at all. It is a standard photogenic forest that you could find in any newly colonized garden world, a place where the vivid imagination of the public always glorifies to be the perfect retreat from society, a valid public conception, for a soldier, however, this forest is hell manifest. Possible ambush points on every corner, the sound of streaming water hides the sounds he wanted to hear, and the green tall trees and the bushes growing on the forest floor gave him an overload of sensory reception. Everything is odd for him, the leaves falling, the wind gushing, it all felt too perfect for him. But despite the picturesque view, he can't shake this nagging feeling on his back, and can't keep ignoring the screaming of danger his instinct keeps telling him.

All odds were stacked against him, but he managed to find his center and calmed himself, barely. He should've joined the navy like his brother, instead of hopping planets every time the army deployed him in some rundown asteroid colonies killing slavers and pirates, taking piercing burning wounds to his chest, and facing demons with the mask of civilization. But, after seeing the space battle above him with falling streaks of infernos entering the atmosphere, he is honestly relieved that at least he wouldn't die in the vacuum of space. Now, he's just worried about his brother; fighting inside one of those ships. Spirits, he hoped, he's alright.

A cough from his subordinate made his senses on high alert, and when he realized who it was, he calmed himself. Not wanting the overreaction to spook the man.

He's getting paranoid. The sounds slowly but surely are chipping his sanity. He wants to scream, he wants to follow his gut, telling him to retreat, but where? HQ was destroyed two days ago; some of the survivors who scattered to the forest are in his team, spouting nonsense that could only be described as magic: Earth being raised to the ground, Fire burning the best of the Turian Hierarchy, Lightning striking from the above, flood that swept armored columns, and fiery tornados to unite it all. It sounded more like divine intervention from an avenging God than the work of mortals.

These humans are cunning, he'll give them that. A worthy opponent for Turian soldiers to face. While their equipment is dominated by knives and swords, do not underestimate their prowess in the art of war. But hearing them committing an act straight from a mythical epic, is surreal for him. Yet, these accounts are from Turian soldiers, swearing upon their honor as warriors. No matter how unreal their accounts may be, he has to acknowledge that some of them have merit. Not to mention the capability of these humans in psychological warfare. Using the most dreamlike and heavenly place into something straight from nightmares. Demons, all of them.

Just last week, he didn't have to listen to these wild stories. The mundane life of a soldier, eating your typical military grub; they're not delicious, but they do their job, is far more damn enjoyable than whatever he has to deal with right now. It's only been 2 months since he was promoted to lieutenant, and he's already on his own little campaign disaster. The universe must truly hate him, now there's a rather large chance he wouldn't spend those extra paychecks. Damn it, he was looking forward to buying new clothing for his mother. He missed her cooking, he missed his home, and his annoying brother.

Now, he only has this damn forest; that is a mockery of serenity.

Tranquility morphed into a weapon, attacking the whole squad's psyche. As squad leader, Carrius tried to calm his soldiers by encouraging them and giving them enough rest when marching toward their objectives. But, it is not enough; there's a limit on how many times he could give his men and women the needed inspiring speeches and talk of comradery. The soldier under his command grew weary as time passed, finger on the trigger at all times, preparing for an attack that would surely come.

A shrub moved, spooking the whole squad to train their gun at it. They waited with bated breath, hoping that it was just some animals and not enemy soldiers. They're all tired from marching and not ready for another firefight. They've escaped the last firefight because of luck, and don't intend to test the limit of that luck. Every second was tense as the sound was getting even louder, sweat started to form and some of the guns were shaking in fear. Their fear was for naught as they were instantly relieved when it was only some form of a four-legged animal that emerged from the shrub. Everyone stood still, not uttering a single word.

"Hahaha," The laughter of one of Carrius' men breaks the uneasy silence of the group, "I'm getting crazy, spirits, I'm getting crazy." He dropped to the ground covering his head with his arms, muttering something incomprehensible. His action dropped the morale of the group exactly what the enemy wanted. Carrius could not let this happen; he raised his collar forcefully and made him stand upright.

"Oi, snap out of it!" Carrius shouted at his face.

"We're all going to die, we're all going to die." A slap was given to him.

"You're a soldier of the Turian Military, act like one. We may be surrounded by this spirit-forsaken place but we shall never give up. We have a duty to attend, a duty we must complete! Do you understand, soldier?!?"

The man Carrius grabbed by the collar was stunned for a second taking a moment of silence and then a look of determination filled him.

'Good,' Thought Carius as he let go of his hold.

"What should we do now Lieutenant?" Ask another one of his subordinates. "You surely must have a plan to face those demons if you can talk so calmly." A female Turian logistic officer who survived the attack from HQ spoke up, she gave the most detailed account of the whole situation when the attack happened.

"We're going to rendezvous with the survivor of the TSS Dictator 10 Km from here. I saw where their escape pods landed last night. From there we will use their emergency distress transmitter and pray that someone above listens." Carrius told his plan. The reason why they need the Dictator's communication equipment is that the Turian military HQ was destroyed and with it the only real-time and reliable line of communication between space and ground assets. They can use their omni tool to find help, but that runs the risk of the enemy picking up their signal, an obviously bad thing.

"The Dictator was destroyed?" said the female logistic officer. "That's impossible. I know the enemy fleet is strong, but this strong?" her voice faltered. "How could we win against them?!" It was hoped that the Turian navy could defeat the Human navy as they lack any semblance of Eezo-based tech. If they can't beat them on the ground at least they can win in space. The destruction of the Dreadnought Dictator destroyed that hopeful optimism.

"No time to think about the implication, we have a ride to catch. You can mop all you want when we get back where we have drinks and some Asari in our hands." That got some of the lads to chuckle, raising the morale. He didn't like to use the Asari card, sure they're an ancient and noble race (A/N:xi xi xi) and should not be defined by lewdness, but they sure make a fine motivator for desperate soldiers.

The next few days can only be described with one word: Exhaustion. They've traveled many kilometers to reach their destination, climbing mountains and cliffs, dodging the local wild animals, escaping cleverly put traps, and generally taking tentative steps. Every time the sound of explosion and gunfire was heard they avoided that place like cat and water, they were playing it safe and knew their limitations. No matter how prepared they are to fight these humans, they will never be prepared. Climbing a hill to a rather clear patch of land the nearly 1-kilometer dreadnought can be seen from far away.

"We're close," muttered Carrius. They are close but dusk is approaching, snuffing out the light. "Faster I don't want to arrive at night!" No one complained, they doubled their pace, almost running toward the crashed dreadnought.

Carrius merged from the bushes first trying to survey the place.

'Turian, thank the spirits the crashed site littered with Turians.'

Not thinking through, Carrius emerged from the bushes spooking the entire surviving crew. They aimed their gun at him, ready to shoot, only to lower them when they identified his species.

"We almost thought for a second you were a hummie' there, your head was just about to turn to red paste." one of them joked, lowering the tension. "State name and rank!"

"Lieutenant Carrius Commodus, 10th infantry division." The guard was surprised and immediately saluted him.

"Glad to see you, sir. We thought that the ground party was massacred."

"Your conclusion is correct," The rest of my squad stepped out of the bushes after Carrius established contact. Carrius steps closer to the group of soldiers. "But not all of them. Who is your commanding officer?"

"Vice Admiral Kailth is now the most senior rank on deck. He's currently in the center of the camp coordinating the line of defense." He reported.

"Thank you, soldier," Carrius turned to his men. "All of you stay here, help them as best as you can." They all saluted and he saluted back.

"Shall I escort you, sir?" The soldier offered.

"No, I can handle it myself." Carrius left the group and made his way to the center of the camp dodging people carrying the wounded and supplies from and to the frontlines. 'Is there a skirmish?' Carrius arrived at a hastily made camp; two guards are guarding the main tent, which he suspects is the whereabouts of the vice admiral. From outside, he could hear the admiral shouting orders, frustrated with how to manage the situation. Approaching the two guards, he explains his ranks; the guards at first don't trust him talking about demons changing forms. They asked for proof, and he in turn asked what kind of proof.

Slap

'They slapped me. A Turian soldier slapped an officer.' Carrius stares in disbelief. "You better explain or you and I are going to have some problems, private."

"Sorry sir, but this is one of the fastest ways to know if you are the real you." Carrius squinted his eyes at the guard, not wanting to believe such nonsense.

"You swear?" Carrius asked with a glare. The guard only nodded in fear. Carrius took a deep breath and shook his head, not saying a single word when he entered the tent. The vice admiral is talking with communication equipment, crates, and supplies littered on the ground with holographic maps on top of a hastily made wooden table.

"... I've ordered you multiple times to set up a perimeter. What do you mean it's impossible?!!" Carrius was about to state his name but was stopped by the vice admiral. He's choosing to talk with the person behind the communication equipment. Carrius waited, not moving, his Turian discipline kicking in. Slam!! The table was slammed by the Vice Admiral. "I don't care if the ground is moving, we need a perimeter for the rescue ship! This is my last order, do you understand captain?" a pause, "Good" He veered towards Carrius with barely contained annoyance. "Explain everything in under five minutes."

Carrius Salut him, "Sir, Lieutenant Carrius Commodus, 10th infantry division, a survivor of the second landing." He lowered his arm.

"I assume that your commanding officer, Major General Vwreen is dead?" He asked.

Carrius nodded, "Yes sir, he died after a major ambush was dealt to our troops. He sacrificed his life and 5 with him to protect us." For a moment the vice admiral just stood in silence holding his eyes and then shaking his head. "Do you know him… sir?"

"That doesn't matter, why are you here lieutenant? Let me guess you want a ride to get off this planet?"

"Yes sir," confirmed Carrius. "I take it there's a problem sir?"

"A big one. The boys up there are locked in a fight with the human navy. They need every single ship to fight those primitives," he said bitterly.

"Permission to ask a question, sir?" Asked Carrius.

"Granted."

"What happened?" The vice admiral clicked his tongue hearing Carrius' question.

"To put it in simple terms: we were outmatched. While we have superior agility and speed and armor, they have superior firepower. One shot from that cannon can destroy a cruiser in a single shot. It doesn't matter if you can dodge it, at some point, it will hit you." explained the vice admiral. "Does that answer your question Lieutenant? Or do I have to explain more about how the vaunted Turian navy has been humiliated?" Before Carruus could answer, the communication equipment blipped.

" This is the TSS Condor, I repeat this the TSS Condor, are there any survivors down there?"

The vice admiral immediately responded, "This is Vice Admiral Kailth, Good to hear you, Condor. My men need immediate transport out of this dirtball, when will you arrive at our exact location?"

"Inbound from the south 2 minutes until arrival. Is the landing zone contested-sir?" Carrius opened the tent door, seeing from the sky a Turian class Accipiter class corvette in the sky above slowly descending. He can't help but feel hopeful.

"No, it's clear, you are clear to land. There's something else Condor, have we achieved void supremacy?" The question he asked the Condor is a valid one as usually a daring move like this is only safe when the enemy navy is beaten back.

" Admiral Septimus ordered a general retreat; this is just us trying to save as many soldiers as we can, sir."

Carrius is not that focused on the conversation as he observes a purplish light slowly getting stronger in the forest below.

"Sir?" Carrius called the vice admiral but he didn't listen, as the news of the retreat was still on Kailth's mind. The purple light floats in the sky forming a skeletal frame. "SIR!!!"

What is it… Oh my," the admiral immediately hailed the corvette, "Do not land, I repeat do not land!! The LZ is hot, I repeat do not land!"

The skeletal form is covered in muscles. The scream of panicked and awed Turrian soldiers was heard outside the tent.

"...eat sir, we…. nt 'ear yo.'."

'Is the light interfering with the communication equipment?' Thought Carrius. He watched as the frame wrapped in armor with a bow aimed at the corvette.

"DO NOT LAND, DO NOT LAND!!!" The vice admiral's warnings are too late as the corvette is now too close to the avatar of destruction.

Lightning forms an arrow for the titan.

Last comn link: "What the fu…"

Boom

An explosion, comparable only to a small nuclear bomb exploded in the air, sending blinding lights and cyclones toward the camp. Carrius can only stand there helplessly, as the ship that was supposed to save them is destroyed to bits and transformed into a blazing fireball, crashing down to the ground below.

The Giant armored Titan. Slowly turned toward Carrius, and he swore that their eyes locked face to face. A symbol of pure power and destruction. Watching the armored titan turn toward him made Carrius realize something horrifying, something that will always haunt his nights. These humans are protected by their gods, something to be feared and revered. He realized that no matter what the council or even the entire galaxy throws at these humans, they will not be victorious. How could you win against an enemy protected by the divine?

"Spirits help us all." one prayer, it is foolish to assume that one prayer can save civilized space. But that is all he can do: Pray

"We need to make peace! If this war continues we will have our hands bloodied by untold billions of innocent lives, we must have peace." The Asari councilor wearing their species' traditional garments chastises his colleague.

" Stop the fighting, do you realize what you're talking about?!! These humans are warlike, they chose their leader by determining who is the strongest in their ranks! They have weapons that could destroy a moon. What type of species do you think need such a destructive weapon? I'll tell you barbarians, species that from their existence always known violence! That is the type of species we're fighting against, Tevos!" The Turian councilor said with rage toward the Asari. "We need to continue this war or less the civilized galaxy will fall."

"Now you care about the fate of the galaxy?" The Salarian councilor cut in. "What about your officers that started this mess in the first place? What about Palaven's decision to keep this information a secret for a whole month? If it isn't for the STG this foolish foray your navy did will go unnoticed by the two of us."

"Are you blaming my people for this? We have sacrificed our life battling this enemy! I will not have their selfless action mocked by the lack of you, you conniving bastard!"

" And who is to blame that made them have to sacrifice their life Sparatuss?" The Salarian replied with spite.

Slam

The guard's finch when the Turian councilor slammed the metal desk with his hand growing at the Salarian Councilor. Never in their careers, they've seen the council so divided.

"Sparatus, calm yourself," Tevos told him with a reminding glare. Sparatus glared back, not backing down from the threat for a second then claimed himself when he realized his mistake and sat back to his chair the breath of relief was exhaled by everyone in the room. "Councilor Vikkan, you need to choose your world more carefully, as allies we should never disrespect the heroes of each respective people."

Vikkan resisted, rolling his eyes, "That may be true, Tevos, but we still need to agree on who's at fault here."

"That can wait, for now, we must make a truce with these humans, how could we know whether they will accept or not. Sparatus, you need to give this a chance." Tevos said in an almost pleading voice.

Sparatus tapped the table ruminating over the option being presented to him with a scowl on his face. Tevos watches with sweat forming on her blue face, hoping that he would make the right call. While Vikkan observes in silence either way what Sparatus chose the Salarian Union has backed up plans and backup plans he could choose from.

"Tch, fine," he said laconically. Tevos smiled at the representative of the species with the largest military in Citadel space. "Do what you must."

"Who will be our ambassador?" Asked Vikkan.

"I already have someone in mind," answers Tevos.