Somewhere in Northern Ursus.

Lucky Six drifted back, slowly becoming aware of his existence once again. Everything was dark, but the blackness felt... peaceful, almost cozy compared to what he'd last experienced. He let himself sink into this strange comfort, amused that he was still around to feel anything at all. Vividly, he remembered he was quite possibly hemorrhaging from every fiber of his body, lying broken on the permafrost, the freezing cold numbing his skin while his blood pooled out of him slowly. Unless a bird had fallen into his mouth as sustenance or the cold tundra had been struck by a sudden heatwave, his chances had been zero.

Then again, maybe this was it. The afterlife. The limitless void where he'd drift forever. He floated in that darkness, reflecting on his luck, or lack thereof. Oddly, he liked it here. Peaceful and hollow. Better than that god awful migraine he'd felt a minute or so before his departure.

'Speak of the devil' he murmured in his mind, as an ache began to creep into his head. Then he felt warmth around his body, which caught his attention. Focusing on the sensation, he became aware of something pressing down on his skin. He tried to move, but his body felt like a heavy sack weighing him down. Cold settled on his face, contrasting with the warmth beneath his neck.

If he'd had any doubt about being alive, that doubt was gone. He wanted to move, but his body still refused to cooperate as the migraine grew sharper by the second.

He tried to keep his mind focused on the comfort, which reminded him of a bed and a sheet. Judging by how his weight was pressing down, he could tell the mattress was on the stiff side. He wished he could just lie on his side to gain some sort of relief. Then he started wondering about what led him here. It was definitely that GRX implant going haywire, flooding his system with turbo for who knows how long.

This wasn't the usual chemical withdrawal. He was practically used to all kinds of withdrawals and could predict what to expect, but this pain had a razor edge, sharper than any he'd felt before. Normally, turbo just left him twitching with muscle spasms, erratic speech, minor nausea. But this? It felt as though his body had imploded from the strain, struggling and failing to rebuild itself over and over again. No one else had really tried staying on that stuff longer than a minute, as far as he knew.

'Til now. New record broken again by the old Six. Where's my consolation cake for being the best test subject for dozens of years straight?'

And so little by little, he managed to open his eyes as the light strained his retinas. His eyes, finally shuddering open, began to adjust, and shapes formed in the gloom as he tried to scan his surroundings. Old, grayed wood lined the walls, and the room's single window was barricaded, either to prevent prying eyes or to keep in what little heat the fireplace in front of him provided.

His teeth chattered, and he tried to steady his breathing as his body adjusted to the morning cold. Suddenly, footsteps sounded near the crackling embers. A strong herbal scent mixed with the smell of burning timber overwhelmed his senses. Then, a woman's voice broke the cold silence.

"You're awake?" she asked in thickly accented English. Hearing words he could understand after so long, Lucky Six's eyes perked up to the direction of the sound. He tried to respond, but nothing came out, his tongue felt limp and strained with every attempt. Biting his lip, he tried again. "You... speak English?"

Two black antlers appeared in his view as she tilted her head. "Victorian? Yes, I do… somewhat," she replied, hesitating at the last part. "Not well," she added, begrudgingly.

Hearing the confirmation, Relief washed over Lucky Six, and he let out a chuckle, only for it to come out as a raspy grunt as his throat strained. Wincing through the pain, he pulled himself into a sitting position on the makeshift bed as his head spun from the sudden movement.

"You need to stay still. You aren't in shape to move," she warned, her English crude but far better than the tribal dialects and rural accents he used to deal before. She hurried over to help adjust his posture. As she got closer, he muttered, "Where…?" trying to focus on her face.

"In a cabin. I found you. You crashed, nearly ran me over." She studied his face, which remained rigid and expressionless. "By the way, you owe me for the shirt. It's covered in your blood." Lucky Six remembered the moment he almost ran over her. He felt a bit embarrassed about his thought chain then as he bounced between taking a life or not. His empathy synthesizer implant analyzed her posture and expression, detecting her calmness and relief. Taking that as a hint he decide to calm down for now.

"Sorry about that. Migraine's a real b-" he stopped him self from cursing "a pain." he muttered, letting out another dry chuckle in an attempt to be friendly. She looked at him, not understanding the last sentence, so he sighed. "Thanks for pulling me out." He saw his arms were bandaged up, it was applied with too much pressure but it won't bother his conditions.

"You are not from here. Ursus, Is it right?"

"Yeah… Long story short, I got lost," he replied with a slight shrug that made his shoulders ache. "Wouldn't have chosen this place if I'd had another option," he added, slightly nodding toward the window where coldness seeped through.

She gave him a faint smile. "No one comes here by choice."

As he processed what she said for a few moments 'huh,' he gave her a nod. He attempted to get his body to cooperate, but the strain became unbearable, and he finally gave up. Looking around, he took in his surroundings, crudely built cabin, yet somehow homely. Alina takes a seat and she picks up a clothing, knitting it.

Clearing his throat, he broke the silence. "I'm Lucky Six. Or just Six. Either works."

"Six and Lucky?" she tilted her head, an amused smile forming on her lips. "You don't look like a Sarkaz."

Unfamiliar with the term, he replied, "It just… stuck."

"My name is Alina," she said, smiling. "You're… not from the garrison, are you? Don't look Ursan, either," she observed, glancing again at the torn coat and the originium crystals embedded in his exposed shoulder. "Or at least, not with them anymore."

"The garrison? The ones in green coats?" he asked, carefully thinking what he should say to not appear like a madman on loose. "No, not with them. Just passing through. Finders keepers you know?"

He quickly changes the topic "Water?" he asked. Alina nodded and disappeared toward the fireplace, returning with a worn mug. Lucky Six thanked her as he took the cup. In the reflection of the water, he noticed his expression was in neutral expression. Realizing he wasn't wearing his helmet, he adjusted his face to look calmer. "Sorry, I'm used to be behind a helmet. Thanks for the hospitality."

Alina watched him adjust his expression with curiosity. "Strange." she mutters.

"So, what is Sarkaz?" he asked, breaking the silence.

she chuckled lightly, clearly amused by his question. "Sarkaz. You don't know? It's a race, like how Ursus are Ursus. Sarkaz are Sarkaz." Lucky Six confused by the wording, he raises eyebrow to hint that he was confused. Seeing that she then graces her horn "Example I am Elafia, Most people here are Ursus. What about you?" her tone was patient, almost as if she were explaining something to a child.

Lucky Six pondered this. He'd never had to think about his race much. Usually people just went with American or Mexican, if they wanted to be more specific they would say which state they are from, though he vaguely remembered a student's paper on eugenics classifying him as mostly Caucasian with some Hispanic origin. "I guess I'm Caucasian?"

Alina tilted her head. "Cau-ca-sian? What's that?" Noticing the intensity in his gaze, she softened. "Oh, if it's something you don't want to talk about-"

"No, no. It's fine" he reassured her, blinking couple times to make his stare softer "All I remember is that I'm Caucasian because of my facial features and skin tone."

"That's a funny way to describe your race." as she says as she scanned his face.

"That's just how it is where I'm from," he replied, taking a big sip from the cup in front of him.

"Wait no! Hot!" Alina exclaimed, lunging forward to take the cup from him "You'll burn yourself!". He blinked, only now noticing the warmth spreading through his stomach. Sheepishly, he handed the cup back to her. "Ah, sorry. Just… a bit overwhelmed." he coughs as he felt hot liquid in his stomach

"It's nothing to worry about" he tries to puff his chest "I got a lead belly you know?" 'literally' only now he notices cup was steaming.

Alina sighed, shaking her head gently with a faint smile. "Men always trying to play tough." She gently blew on the cup to cool it. "Here, watch. Do this, and sip slowly." She handed it back, watching like a mother making sure her child wouldn't burn himself.

Feeling a bit embarrassed, he followed her instructions, sipping carefully. The warm water soothed his dry throat, and he relaxed further into the makeshift bed, listening to the fire crackle and fill the quiet between them. He glanced at Alina.

'It's been a long time since I just sat down and talked like this,' he thought. He was curious about the people here, aside from the ones who tried to kill him earlier ofcourse.

Sitting in silence, he noticed Alina perk up. "So you can read Victorian yes?"

Lucky Six turned his head toward her. "Well, that depends. So far, the language you and I are speaking is... English-adjacent," he mused. It was strange that he knew he was on a completely different celestial rock in a far part of the galaxy, yet the language seemed to share a similar structure from where he was from, as far as he could tell- he had to stop himself from overthinking it. He was willing to accept that this could be a brain simulation or that he might even be dea- no, he had to stop himself again before going too far down that line of thought.

Alina looked at him briefly, then stood up and moved to a worn-out cabinet in the corner. She rummaged through it and pulled out a finely kept book with bookmarks made from scraps of old newspaper. Bringing it over, she flipped through the bookmarks until she found what she was looking for. Lucky Six glanced at the open page and saw it was written in the English alphabet. Just by looking, he could tell the grammar was unusual. His eyes followed Alina's finger to a specific sentence.

Focusing on the words, he recognized the academic style he used to deal with and said aloud, "Pernicious influence." He looked at Alina for confirmation.

She tilted her head. "What does it mean?"

He almost responded offhand but paused, he decided to read the entire paragraph first, just to be sure.

"Enlightenment, as the paramount objective of scholarly endeavor, necessitates a diligent and unwavering commitment to the rigorous application of reason, for through such intellectual discipline, the mind is duly fortified against the pernicious influence of erroneous persuasions," he read aloud, sighing internally as he realized it was author who wrote in his intellectual bubble. The off-putting feeling when writer had to tone down their writing for the layman's sake was one he knew, but that was what educated person must do for greater good of society.

He looked back at Alina. "Pernicious means something that has a harmful effect in a subtle way." he says, mirroring slow and patient tone she used to explain him before.

Impressed as she absorbed his explanation. "Harmful in a sneaky way… interesting." She repeated the words to herself quietly.

"You read well. Better than my friend. She struggled with that word and read the page many times with no luck." she gave him a genuine smile.

"Is your friend a teacher?"

Alina chuckled. "No, but she's the one who taught me Victorian. When the Columbian books arrived, she was the first to buy them."

"Columbia?" Lucky Six asks as he registers a familiar name.

"Yes," she replied, her face lighting up with excitement. "Did you know, in Columbia, there are fertile lands that stretch all the way to the horizon, where anyone can settle? Even the Infected get to live normal lives on the frontier." Her tone brimmed with wonder at the very idea.

Lucky Six leaned forward, so far that did not sound like Columbia he knew. "So what is this infected?" he asks.

"Eh?" she mutters in confusion as though he just asked the strangest question in the world.

And yeah done. It's not much but Honestly this chapter was pain in the ass, I had to cut lot of scene, redo them n all. And I say this is decent as it is, If i had to write it more, I don't think I could like... keep doing a light hearted scene. Shit. Like there were a part were a kid shows up, to show Alina's main role that is looking after the orphaned infected kids, but fuck that was very cheesy. Also had to cut her explaining oripathy becuase that also felt very cheesy.

Also I kept trying to make it sad before realizing. Wait she won't say that. So yeah.

Writing a kind and caring character just screams death flag to me nowdays. And yeah. Oripathy on courier? I decide to go with he is immune to the assimilation. And if the future chapters says it's only the Doctor who is immune becuase of great crystal on the sky then I can just briefly change some lines and make him cough more as 1097 nears.

Don't worry he wants to die. Speaking of him dying. I think i should've like kept some chapter 4 scenes. And added one or two chapters explaining who he was before to make the very cheesy chapter 5 end part.

So the one that didn't make to chapter 4 was one scene after he deals with skirimish and looting the soldiers, he finds a photo of loved one inside the wallet as the dying soldiers grasps his leg. Seeing that he gives the photo back, soldier holds it between his fingers and stops moving as he stares at it. Seeing that Lucky Six says, "rest in peace" before continuing his scavanging. It's kinda like that. But around 300 to 500 words. usually. or just 200.

Either way. Fun fact the character interaction was so finicky to write I ended up writing more AU stuff than actual chapter stuff.

Before AU. Review response.

Q:Is that talulah?

A:I wouldn't say fighter talulah wears a modest dress, also don't think she will be blind sighted by a car like a deer. And yes Alina got blind sighted by a car becuase she is a deer race. funny init? Either way if car was barreling toward talulah she can like. stop it. atleast slice it apart becuase draco magic.

Q:Tally count?

A:Since he arrived he have recorded 150~ish confirmed kill and 250~ish unconfirmed kill, with real number being he killed around 250.

Half those deaths are made by infected patrol.

Most shotgun blast isn't that lethal unless he aims at a unprotected area. As oririon plating is pretty tough. It has to be pretty tough to be used in construction of superconsturctions.

.45 ACP also cannot penetrate through the armor, but it would stagger the wearer for a moment as they are absorbing full force.

And 45-70 gov't is comparable to rifle cartridge. Yeah that goes through through the platings.

Most small arm hits eventually results in death. The abysmal bullet recovery rate is due to doctors being inexperienced at taking care of bullet fracture wounds. All I say is. even full jacket wounds are nasty. Most of the successfull injury recovery are from garrison soldiers who have medical facility to look after their men. Being able to recover from non lethal strikes like stab into their stomach or bolt wounds.

While most of infected patrolmen being left behind to succumb to their wounds without their captains, as their captains are often get killed first in engagement against Lucky Six. The veteran retinue patrolmen get's hired into surviving captains crew and hope for the best. And the rookies? Well they are really out of luck.

Due to how Lucky Six prioritizes targets, more than half the dead garrison soldiers are officers. Specifically ranks like sergeant as they are leading a group, and lieutenant if it was platoon engagement, and one or less captain casualties when it's him who is raiding their camp for resources.

The engagements weren't in a whole company level, resulting in less captain casualties than other lower ranks. Every skirmish compromised were one or two platoons from the company that was garrisoned in the area alongside the infected patrol, as they really don't have enough men to spare. If it was still was a nomadic city with garrison at full strength however, entire company or two after him would be more feasible.

Well. By the end two company did eventually came after him with help of a company sized infected patrolmen. But by that point all of the territorial defense guard companies were more or less in shambles as 1/3rd of low ranking officers are dead in casualties, with handful in possible recovery. Captains of the company or replaced by lieutenant if they were in casualties, are overworking just to ensure the remaining soldiers don't desert. Because there is the threat of Andrei's staff executing them for incompetence otherwise.

And Lucky Six wasn't even going out his way to wipe the garrison out. His main objective was to find whereabout and get out of there. And he did attack the soldiers but he did it to see what those flying drones do, or gauge what the war casters are capable of. Just curiosity. although i won't say he is innocent because of that.
If he ddi wanted to wipe them out. The garrison would be deserted within a week due to all high ranking officers are dead.

And after the "dance", the grenadier company is gone, with what little of the survivors being executed for infection. Shock trooper's company is left to barely 30% of their number. as they are effectively decimated. And Andrei and his staff is dead. The infected patrolmen reinforcement is dropped to half their initial numbers, and surviving captains all decided to leave as their major is dead and the Andrei is also dead.

(I want to use the lieutenant colonel abbreviation but fanfiction's doc manager keep removing it, same with Big Empty's abbreviation, unno.)

So in terra he have around 400~ish kill count on Ursus Garrison and Infected Patrol troops.
If it was how much he actually have. Eh. he isn't that active but on humans atleast he have around high 5 digit count. lower 6 digit count on unconfirmed kills.

Q: Relationships?

In main story, friends, allies yes. Love? nah. Being a doctor, engineer, repairman and other roles in a place that is literally lacking any of that or lacks professional is not gonna leave him idle that long. All I say he and doctor will get along well over their never ending responsibilies in their own factions.

He is more likely to just end up being father figure like Patriot.

Love in AU? A loving yeah. But actually settling down? not really. He don't like staying put. That is why he had to be nursed back by Reunion affiliated refuge to be atleast interested on what they think, if he was just traveling and stumbled on a reunion camp. He would help them out but won't stick with them like this fella.

Q: What the fuck just happened?

A: Mandatory tripping on ball scene.

And one question I missed on chapter 4. Even though I replied to the other half. I just thought I answered it but I wasn't.
Q: His experimentation on originium, and rhode island.

A: Well his current understanding of originium is very human. Red rock will blow up, and black rock won't. Red rock + Red fuel liqued is big explosion. With the amount of originium he is using and amount of explosion he generates is very un-efficient at it, any caster can do what he did with less.

And hopefully I was able to convey that he is in point a followers member. Well i already spelled that part out on chapter 5 but eh... it was supposed to before chapter 4. Anyway he would get well with Rhode Island, Same with Rhine Labs although their involvement with the military is not gonna sit well with him. Otherwise he would get along with many of the directors there, even the ubermench guy.

Rhode Island having a small but elite military force isn't gonna be new to him as when he was a followers member he was very staunch supporter of Deterrence, and he personally made sure the new settlement of great khans protects the followers among many things, Before doing a very controversial stunt.

I spend 3 days writing the AN now. So i actually get to remember what I put off in process of writting the chapter instead of trying to remember them when I was sleep deprived.

Lucky Six stumbled back, dropping to the ground as a streak of silver gleam sliced through the air, narrowly missing him but cutting his blade in half. The so called art of Róża was something he would personally call bullshit. But here he was trying to win a spar against her. Harthman was barely watching, idly playing a tune on his flute as he saw Lucky Six fall, he then changed his tune he was playing and it cast an art to draw a strike on the ground, so far Róża had ten wins while Lucky Six was yet to score single point.

"Why won't you do that art you used against the bandits then?" Róża asked, holding out a hand to help him up.

"Because it's not a art. Its a chem! I am telling you. It's neither knightly or chivalrous to use it in a duel!" Lucky Six protests as he let her pull himself up.

"Hm~. Well, I'd prefer you gave me your best," Róża smirks as she readies her stance, already focusing on casting.

They readied themselves again, but Lucky Six was already winded as he picked up a replacement blade from the pile of captured bandit weapons. Meanwhile, Róża's weapon and stance were as steady as ever, showing no sign of wear. She struck first, her blade as the silver gleam warping around the blade extended her strike further. Lucky Six barely blocks, he was getting used to her type of fighting style, she always initiated, setting up openings for her silver art. Just as he anticipated her next move, she twisted her blade causing the silver gleam to strike around him leaving a marks behind as it thrashed.

Which left his movement boxed in as she advanced into him with a thrust. Lucky Six predicted such strike was able to counter it one of his own, but Róża always was faster as she adjusts her stance, bringing down a powerful overhead wide slash as her arts expired. He deflected it with a strike, clashing the false edge of his blade against hers, but she quickly regained control, angling to break his guard. Sparks flew as he slid his blade to catch hers with a true-edge lock, already pushing the shoddy blade to it's limits.

"Come on, it's just going to end like the last three matches," she teased, almost pleading. "Please?" Both of them locked eyes through their helmet. reluctant he nods, In a instant his movement becomes faster than hers. She went from attacking, now backed into a defending position as strikes came in fast, each strike leaving no room for riposte or parry as he pushed in. When she caught his blade in her guard, he slipped a quick pommel strike into her helmet, staggering her. Before she could recover, his blade was poised at her neck.

Róża exhaled, impressed, and dropped her blade in concession.

From the sidelines, Harthman barely looked up from his flute, only glancing over long enough to add a mark to the ground. Another line appeared next to Róża's tally. "No, no! He won this round," she insisted. Harthman blinked in mild surprise, then shrugged. "Well, about damn time. Good thing I didn't put any money on you." He grinned, shuffling the soil as he sketched a tenth line for her and a single one a little ways apart for him.

Lucky Six exasperated as he quickly mutters as GRX implant's high wears off "What do you mea- Why are you even betting on a spar- Who are betting against even?" Harthman merely stretches out on the grass, feigning a yawn, his smirk widening as he closed his eyes, clearly content with his "predictions" of Róża's landslide winning.

Róża removing her helmed. Leaned over, resting her elbow on his shoulder. "So, up for another?"

"Look, I've only got so many charges in a day," he muttered, tossing his damaged blade aside and picking up another from the pile.

"I'll bet you a hundred złoty I'll win the next round against you with that art. I've almost figured it out," she teased, grinning. (złoty a Polish currency.)

"Why are you all so obsessed with betting?" he asked, his tone exasperated.

"Because where's the fun without a little wager?" she replied, as though it were obvious.

Lucky Six sighs as he quotes "Honor cannot be weighed in gold. I decline this wager, for my worth is in my word and my deeds"

She pouted. "Where do you even get these quotes? I've read plenty of knightly tales, but you're the only one who spouts them like a creed." Then, her eyes lit up as she clinking her gauntlets together. "Alright, what about a game of dice?"

Before she could elaborate, Harthman jumped up, alarmed. "NO DON'T PLAY ANYTHING OF CHANCE WITH HIM!" He glanced between the two, clearing his throat, composing himself with a formal air. "Friend here is very blessed, ya? Playing a game of chance is very non-recommended for your sanity sake." he says as goes back to laying on grass playing a random tune.

Lucky Six shrugged innocently. "I've done nothing."

Róża flashed a mischievous grin. "Think fast!" She swung a playful smack at his helmet, but he sidestepped just in time, and her gauntlet struck the Valence Radii he wore, sending it spinning out.

She blinked in surprise as she saw the halo spun out, her smile fading into concern as she looked at him. Lucky Six stood frozen, as if suddenly hollow.

"Are… are you alright, Six?" she asked, her voice trembling with worry.

In a flash, he sprang back to life, shouting "BOO!"

It startles Róża as she instinctly punches him in his helmet as she screamed, his helmet's visor cracking from the sheer impact and his body reeled into a ground as he laughed uproariously. "Worth it."

Captain Jerzy of the city watch marched toward the bustling tavern as his perro ears picked up a commotion, sort with lively music and muffled shouts escaped through the establishment. He expected to find the usual scene of a couple of drunks trading blows or one of his own men who'd had a few too many making similar ruckus. He would settle the trivial scuffle, then perhaps enjoy a few hands of cards to pass the time, winning or losing as the night allowed. But tonight, when he pushed open the door, the scene inside was beyond anything he had anticipated. (AN: Some song like "CHŁOPI ALE TO DRILL", also Perro is the race with traits of dogs.)

The entire tavern was in uproarious dance. Patrons filled the space, forming a ring in the center of the room where they stomped and sang whatever drinking songs they could remember, laughing and shouting encouragement to whoever took center stage as the band of tavern musicians playing the most upbeat music they can as they circled with the patrons. In the middle, atop a table, was the sturdy old landlady, Zdzisława, laughing heartily as she danced beside a foreigner, both moving their legs in double time as they spun in one place.

Then, Jerzy saw Róża, looking very un-ladylike in her father's old knight armor. Helmet hung by her waist, cheeks flushed crimson, she stumbled toward him, her armor clanking with each unsteady step. With a slurred speech she greets Jerzy and tries to say something about his father as she failed to make sentence.

Jerzy sighed, steering her gently to a nearby stool. He pushed and jammed his way through the crowd, barking at them to stand down as he did so, but his voice was swallowed by the clamor. Finally reaching the center, he glared up at Zdzisława, who was still laughing and spinning alongside the foreigner.

"What in God's name are you doing? Do you have any idea what Lord Stanisław would say if he saw Lady Róża like this?-" The foreigner with a surprising strength, yanked him into the circle. The tavern erupted in cheers.

"It's Jerzy! He came to join us!" says one of the patron cheers eagerly as the tavern erupted in cheers.

Jerzy sputtered, trying to pull his arm free. But the foreigner held him fast, spinning him into the dance. Jerzy's steps faltered, his boots barely keeping up with the stranger's dizzying pace as his armor plates clanked and clattered, adding another tune to musical band's energetic play.

He regained his composure and pulled himself free, his face red with fury. "ENOUGH! DISGRACE ALL OF YOU!" grabbing the foreigner by his collars as he descended down the tables as the foreigner show no resistance. "Oh shit it's Jerzy!" the crowd's cheers dies down as they start dispersing not wanting to get in trouble with the captain.

Zdzisława leaned against the bar, arms crossed, meeting Jerzy's glare with one of her own. "Oh, lighten up. You make hounds outside jealous with all that barking you do. Besides, Stanisław himself would join first as you well know. Róża deserves a little fun, she's earned it."

"Fun?" Jerzy scoffed "She's barely standing! And that armor! she's disgracing her father's legacy, parading around in it like this."

Zdzisława waved dismissively, a sly smile tugging at her lips. "She's done more good than you think. Brought in a whole band of thieves with her," she said, nodding toward a corner where a dozen men sat bound with miserable expression, covered in stale food crumbs and drenched in ale as leaving patrons threw their leftovers as they laughed.

Jerzy's eyes narrowed, though he couldn't hide his surprise as he recognized the bastard leader. "Bandits?"

"Aaand she brought back some company. Pick atleast one of those things from her Captain~" Zdzisława added with a mischievous wink, nodding to the foreigner he still held by the collar and another sprawled unconscious in the corner as tavern maid pulled him over.

Jerzy flushed. He gripped his temple as he tried to wrap his mind around the absurdity of it all. Just then, the foreigner muttered something in Victorian with surprisingly sober tone, catching Jerzy off guard. The captain however was not in mood to deal with foreigner. Silencing him with a growl. Foreigner raised his hands up as mock surrender. Finally, at least someone is respecting his authority.

Dragging the two foreigners and Lady Róża out of the tavern, Jerzy muttered curses under his breath. It was going to be a long night.

Lucky Six glanced out the window of the campaign knight's "carriage." The damn thing was more of a souped-up tank without a the gun than anything else, and it's mirror polish made the already big thing even more noticeable as it gleamed under the sun.

"So... your grandfather rode this into battle?" Lucky Six mused.

Róża's equine ears perked up at his voice. "Yes!" She clasped her hands together, clinking her gauntlets in excitement. "My grandfather, Janusz, took this in place of my father when a war against Ursus broke out! He personally rode this carriage into the ambush against the high-speed cruisers of Ursus! As he-" Her eyes practically sparkled as she recounted the tales her grandfather had told her fondly.

Lucky Six, however, was in disbelief. This tank like transport was terribly hard to conceal as it gleamed like a diamond, not to mention the dust it kicked up while riding on grass.

'No wonder the knights here couldn't catch those bandits. It wouldn't just alert the bandits, a blind man could spot this coming. That tale about riding this thing into an ambush had to be an exaggeration... right?'

20 years ago.

"Drive it closer! I want to hit that ugly thing with my sword!" Janusz commanded as he stood mightily atop the vehicle's manport in his decorated knight armor.

"Yes, milord!" replied the knight driving the vehicle, pressing the pedal.

A volley of Ursus artillery fired into the long line of similar silver vehicles, most missing their target as one of the shells was about to hit the vehicle. A silver gleam sliced the originium round in midair as it exploded. There stood the grand knight Janusz, proud as ever, wielding his blade, which gleamed in the sunlight. He prepared his sword art as the rest of the grand knights joined him in a charge against the Ursus high-speed cruiser infront of them.

Back to present day

As Róża continued her tale, Harthman piped in. "Well, I don't want to be a straggler, but wasn't that ambush responsible for massive losses among the campaign knights involved? Two years later, those who were imprisoned during the failed boarding of the cruiser ship were rescued by the Golden Pegasus along with other campaign knights like a 'shining in a darkness,' as they say." Róża pouted at the interruption. "Atleast let me talk about the Kirill!" (AN: It's Młynar's dad, The national hero of Kazimierz.)

Lucky Six glanced from Harthman to Róża "Kirill?"

Róża gasps. As Harthman averts his gaze away. "You don't know the Kirill?"

"Uh never heard of him?" and so the long retelling of events starts.

On the "stunt." Honestly I won't be going more into it in later chapters, like it's a backstory stuff that I have good feeling he won't go into detail with anyone he meets. If I actually explored it right would've made chapter 5's ending part less cheesy and maybe make it more significant but flashbacks felt too cheap to bring it up.

Well. To be more precise he wiped out the brotherhood from southwest to northwest after one too many "accidents" happened to members of Follower of Apocalypse in those areas, as a direct result of the rapid technological resurgence from the Big Empty. After losing a one very bright student he asked himself "Why should those who continued to kill those of good nature allowed to continue?" He donned the most advanced armor that used two decades of technology recovered from Big Empty and just went off to rampage as he concluded.

"They're a terrorist group. Militant, quasi-religious fanatics obsessed with hoarding Pre-War technology. Their very existence is hindrance to future of mankind's prosperity and development." a note he never worked with House more than 2 missions before ditching it. Despite that he came to similar conclusion. And also his chivalry hyperfixation didn't help with his judgement either.

It wasn't like that quest where Player Character would enter the bunker's self destruction code, He methodically went door to door, executing anyone affiliated with the Brotherhood of Steel. Soldiers, woman and children. After clearing each base, he would call nearby Followers of Apocalypse to retrieve any remaining assets. The leftover carnage gave the Followers with an abundance of evidence against him.

The Brotherhood of Steel didn't go down without a fight. They put up a one hell of a fight, detonating two nukes in a desperate attempt to eliminate him, but even that wasn't enough. From a distance, his advanced energy weapon would fry the paladins within their armor, while up close, his proton blade cuts through any knight. Whenever he was critically injured, he simply teleported back to the sink, allowing Auto Doc to patch him up, restock his gear, and reappear on the battlefield. And any dead member's brain was plucked out and placed into a simulation, extracting information within hours. Over two years, the Brotherhood of Steel in the southwest chapter was wiped out, and the northwest chapter was on the verge of collapse, forcing them to abandon the entire east coast.

Upon returning to the Followers' university, he was met with outrage from the most prominent members. Even the other radical members disagreed with the amount of violence that has happened, the security force (mainly greatkhans) that wanted the BoS gone was mortified as the massacre hit very close to home. Most of the follower members were shaken up, as one of their pillar member literally committed a genocide.

It wasn't completely against him. The security guards didn't even bother to disarm him as he was allowed to enter makeshift courtroom with his revolver still on him. Most of the followers at the time that survived Two NCR and Legion conflict were one way or the other were his students, and those who were on higher up was his collegues.

By the end of the trial, Lucky Six had lost all his degrees and access to both the Big Empty and Sink. The Followers severed their ties with him, there were contemplation of imprisonment or worse. However, many opposed this action, arguing, "Followers of Apocalypse is non govermental entity and should not enforce or judge rules. Such actions should be taken by offended party" Those still sympathetic to him stood by his side despite everything. And the offended party the BoS was no where in the areas Followers operated, even the Midwest chapter stopped considering themselves BoS long ago.

In the aftermath he didn't feel much remorse, seeing his action as what most be done. The only guilt he had was the inability to assist the Followers in researching the Big Empty's still vast technological archive. Nevertheless, some Followers still approaches him for guidance or assistance indirectly, and he accepted his punishment willingly. It was repeat of lesson learned in Zion, though unlike the burned man, he committed sin so great he was expelled from the temple he sought to protect.

Irony in all this is that, He in the end proved that BoS was right about their fanatical hoarding of technology as they were driven out by someone with advanced technology. Perhaps the survivors will join up the the Midwest chapter that is deeply integrated with locals or be forgotten as they are assimilated into their ranks. Either way, that should add one reason on why he thought he no longer deserved the right to live. and he thinks he was still on warpath.