Dragen grabbed the long-haired aehul by the hair as he knelt on the bed on all fours and thrust into him furiously again. It was the second night he had barely slept. The first, he had spent trying to write a report with soldier André about what had happened at the runielectric plant in Tagrei. Of course, it had taken longer than expected. He had never been good at writing reports, and trying to put that madness on paper without being able to write the word "demon" had been an odyssey filled with rage and frustration. If it hadn’t been for the help of Captain Lorenzo and an aehul soldier named Dinroil, who was good at writing reports, it would have ended up as some kind of war declaration filled with insults.

In the end, the accumulated fatigue and the ingestion of a few sleeping pills helped him finally fall asleep. However, demons and mutants pursued him in his dreams, killing his comrades over and over and trying to finish them off. Although he had faced mutants more times than he could remember, and his race was known for its bravery among other things, he had never seen such a terrifying and macabre scene as that one.

The second night, he used the pills again, hoping this time the nightmares wouldn’t return. But they came back once more. In them, the demons killed and took over the bodies of Isen and the rest of those who had ventured into the old tunnel network. Once awake, the inexhaustible rage that all ignen drauos harbored had started to crawl up from the depths of his being like a threatening spider. Deep down, he knew he should have gone with them. But once again, duty had overridden reason. He hated that part of his race, of himself. But he couldn’t discard it. It was part of him. In the end, desperate to release all the rage and frustration he was harboring, the corporal had called a prostitute who enjoyed rough sex. There was no better way to blow off steam.

Dragen thrust into the aehul one last time, releasing everything inside him forcefully. Then, he abruptly pushed the boy’s fragile body aside and got out of bed.

“I want you gone when I come back from the shower.”

Dragen turned and headed to the bathroom of his tiny barracks room without waiting for a reply. He looked at himself in the mirror. His face was tired, and he had dark circles under his eyes.

The image of the sergeant and the rest of the platoon being torn apart by the demons crossed his mind again. For a second, rage took over his hand, and with a punch, he shattered the glass. His tough skin didn’t allow him to bleed, nor feel any physical pain to alleviate himself. The corporal stepped into the shower and let the water run over his entire body.

As he expected, when he came out, the aehul was no longer in the room. That was the best part about prostitutes. They came, did the job, and then left without even expecting a goodbye or any other nonsense. Being gay was one thing, being soft was another.

Dragen put on his military uniform and headed straight to the vehicle park. There, two soldiers from his company were waiting for him with a vehicle meant for city travel, a blend of elegance and security, making it quite practical for the cities of Ibelir. Dragen gave them a military salute and got into the car.

“Where to, sir?” asked Roledo, a human with brown hair and black eyes.

“To Steklen Street, number 40.”

“Yes, sir.”

The vehicle left the barracks’ vehicle park and drove through the city, up and down the roads, until they reached their destination. Steklen Street was in one of the upper-middle-class areas of the city’s second ring. Most of the buildings were about thirty stories tall. Despite having a more elegant style than those in other neighborhoods, few buildings were free of at least one or two neon or holographic signs.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

“Wait for me here, soldiers.”

“At your command.”

Dragen got out of the car and briefly looked up at the building towering in front of him. Inside, he felt worry and doubt, tinged with fury. Dragen hadn’t spoken to Marian since he had parted ways with the sergeant. The resentment he still harbored after so many years stemmed from what he felt when he learned that his wife had left him. A part of him still hadn’t been able to forgive her. Among other things, because Sergeant Raed had never stopped loving her.

Dragen felt the rage born of resentment start to spread through his body and tried to calm it by taking deep breaths, for despite everything, he was the one who had decided that Raed’s wife deserved to know what had happened before the information spread uncontrollably through the media. After a few seconds, he made his way to the building’s entrance.

“Who are you, sir?” asked the building’s doorman. Like him, he was a drauo and was armed.

“Dragen... Iron Hammer,” Dragen replied with a touch of emotionless pain. He hated his last name. “Corporal of the Seventh Company of the State Reconnaissance and Support Regiment,” he continued. “I’m here to see Mrs. Marian at door forty-six about a military matter.”

“A military matter?” the doorman asked arrogantly.

"Yes," Dragen replied. "And you'd better get out of my way, or I swear I'll take your head and paint the wall with it. Is that clear?"

The corporal immediately understood what the doorman thought of that when, without a word, he stepped aside, leaving the entrance free. The corporal entered the building and pressed the button for one of the two elevators. The doors opened, and he stepped in, pressing the button for the eighth floor.

When he reached Marian's apartment door, doubt crept in again. What if he knocked and found the sergeant’s ex-wife with another man? He hadn’t considered that possibility, but for all he knew, it could very well happen. The apartment belonged to her family, so there was probably nothing tying her to him anymore. He cursed himself for not thinking of that earlier. If he knocked and found her with someone else, he wasn’t sure he could keep his cool. Without realizing it, he knocked hard on the door.

"Yes? Who is it?" asked a female voice through the electronic peephole with a speaker.

“Shit,” he thought.

“Soldier Dragen, is that you?”

“Yes, ma'am. It's me,” he replied. “Though I’m a corporal now, not a soldier.”

The apartment door opened, and Marian appeared behind it. She looked a bit older than he remembered, and part of her characteristic smile had faded, but she still had her curves, and most of her hair was still brown. Her light eyes looked him up and down.

“Well, so now you’re a corporal, huh? I’m glad,” Marian said with a genuine smile. “From what Raed told me, I thought you'd make it sooner or later.”

The mention of the sergeant’s name and his ex-wife’s sincere congratulations caused a knot to form in his stomach. The bloody, desolate image of Raed being thrown against the V4-1 by the demon flashed through his mind.

“Yes...” was all he could manage to say.

“Well, what can I do for you?” Marian asked. “I hope Raed didn’t send you to tell me he’s canceling our Saturday date. It wouldn’t be the first time…”

Dragen felt worse and worse. He was good at killing enemies and following orders, not at emotional conversations, and even less at giving condolences to his sergeant’s ex-wife.

“The truth is... it has to do with the sergeant,” he said, gripping his military cap tightly. “I...” The corporal looked down and nervously glanced around before looking Marian in the eye again. “I didn’t want you to hear it from the media.”

“What do you mean?” the sergeant’s ex-wife asked, worried. “Has something happened to Raed?”

“The sergeant... is dead, ma'am. I’m sorry.”

Marian took a step back in shock, her hands covering her face, and her eyes filled with tears.

"Oh no. It can’t be," she whispered as tears streamed down her face. Her legs gave out, and she nearly collapsed.

Seeing Marian’s reaction, Dragen immediately knew that the sergeant’s ex-wife still loved him as much as he had loved her. The corporal despised himself for having doubted her, and he hesitantly approached Marian.

“I… uh…” Dragen began, unsure of how to comfort her. That was an aspect of his genes he hated. Drauos generally had a hard time expressing their feelings, as most of them culturally saw it as a sign of weakness. They were born for work and war, not for romance or drama.

But before he could find a way to continue, Marian hugged him, letting her tears carry away her grief. Dragen awkwardly returned the hug, and for a moment, he felt a comforting sadness.