As soon as the enemy left, Daion let himself shudder. He took deep breaths of the cool air, unable to hold back his weakness any longer. Once he regained his breath, he let out a broken laugh, seeing how the chick was flying away.

"Sirrah! Mercy! Oh, my." He reloaded his revolver. It was a heavily modified weapon; the speed of its projectiles had been greatly improved, and the crane had been enlarged, allowing him to use both incendiary and armor-piercing rounds when needed. He liked this weapon; it had saved his life more times than he could count. Still, if not for his power, he would never have used it. Instead, he would have grabbed a shardgun. Modern times call for modern solutions.

"What if I show you some of the nice mercy on the backs of your soldiers?" he asked out loud. It would be so easy to hit them. "All we need is a single messenger..."

"An officer of my army would break his word? You would dare insult me so?" The voice asked softly, coming directly from behind his back. But Daion knew that his master had not yet arrived.

"I was just spilling my bile around to calm my nerves, sir." He returned his weapon to its holster and raised his hand as he felt a tingling pain. "I'm not like Torturer."

Daion looked at his shaking hand. Damn it all, his body was breaking down. Just a quick dash across the battlefield, six shots, and a minor exchange of blows. And he was already out of breath! His hand was aching and trembling, spearing the rest of his arm with pain. Despite some of the best power armor provided for officers in the Reclamation Army, he barely outpaced his enemy tonight. For all his status as a New Breed, he was falling apart as his age finally caught up with him.

Daion was old. Even the rejuvenating shots could no longer reverse the degradation of his cells, leaving his prime in the past. Other soldiers would have retired already, returning to the Core Lands of the state, where conditions were no longer harsh. Daion stubbornly refused. He gave up his rank, taking on the role of one of countless officers. But he gave his entire life to Outsider, and he will not let his body stop him.

He owed his liege this much for the rescue. His mother gave birth to him in the arena's dungeon. His lot was to die in battle to amuse nobles from his now-forgotten kingdom. Yet each time, he won. His masters began giving him toxic waste that set his stomach on fire instead of water. They wounded him before the fights. Daion refused to die, persevering in the face of any and all obstacles and enjoying seeing the raging faces of his masters. Then, one fateful day, Outsider visited the homeland of Daion. And the kingdom was no more; its people survived while its rulers were washed away, their scions were given to the dynasty, and the former rulers themselves were remembered only by the history books. It was on this day that Daion swore loyalty to his master.

Other New Breeds served centuries longer than he did and did well. Age caught up with Daion, but only because his youth had been so messed up. The doctors said there was only so much they could do for him. The poison fed to him rooted its way all the way down to his cells, brain, and all, eroding his body faster and faster despite the help of the rejuvenation procedures. He could not become ageless, nor would cybernetic implants save him. And lately, after the stroke, all the army doctors have been pestering him and his superiors about his retirement.

He will not leave. Not now, not when his master needed his help the most. The preparations for the invasion of the Living Lands saw the First Army getting swollen with new recruits by the Dynast's decree. The numbers rose from thirty-five thousand to three hundred and forty thousand soldiers. Eight independent corps, thirty thousand new recruits, and the entire newly formed Heavy Weapons Corps all joined the army group led by Outsider. The Fifth and Seventh Tank Brigades and a slew of newly formed military units. Outsider's original army group was essentially dissolved among fresh faces, all too eager to prove themselves, even at the cost of a mission. Instead of the steel fist of the past, the new army was clumsy and unproven in actual combat, training be damned.

Because of this, Outsider approved Torturer's plan. They captured Angor and Ospon with minor trouble and with less blood. Daion was willing to give Torturer this much credit.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

"You just had to screw things up, didn't you?" Daion asked, coming over to the injured Antoniado. He helped the fool to his feet and slapped him across the face. Pain shot through Daion's hand, despite the metal gauntlet, but he showed no sign of it. Antoniado stumbled back, but his big lizard appeared behind him, allowing the boy to stand by leaning on it.

"This was the plan, right?" Antoniado replied in a hoarse voice, "We wait until the fort is destroyed, and then we attack…"

Daion slapped him again.

"No, you moron. You were only supposed to attack if we had wiped out most of the enemy forces above the fort. You received no order for attacking!"

"It was Lucretia who moved her forces first!" the former royal boy complained. "I only followed her after I assumed that the order had not reached me in time."

Daion looked at Antoniado for a long time.

"Fine, let us assume that you are correctable," he said at last. "You only fell under a negative influence. Thankfully, the problem has been solved. But dare to disobey orders again, and next time, I will personally dismantle you. Go to the medics and fix yourself, disgrace."

Daion turned away and looked at the battlefield. The losses were minimal. The soldiers who fought here were from the Orais tribes, and they all worshipped Outsider. Stubborn people, they forced their new warriors to fight with melee weapons before they could earn firearms. Not even Outsider was able to change this inane tradition.

But the Torturer's plan began to unravel. Torturer had hoped to plant a seed of doubt and fear in this Sapon chick and use her the same way he used the Angor brat and the Ospon chick. This failed, as she saved some civilians and killed more enemies than she lost soldiers. Torturer hoped to wipe out a large number of the knights of Sapon over Ospon. This failed as well. Worst of all, Torturer was warned by Yuria, Colonel General and second-in-command of the front lines, that this might happen. The army group was advancing too quickly. If Yuria had her way, they would lure the Sapon troops into a better trap a little later, one that would not involve using disobedient civilians as bait.

The people of Ospon who bowed their heads have now been moved to a temporary camp a few kilometers from Ospon. Their wounds are being treated, and teachers lent by the Third will begin their educational campaign to bring the new citizens up to speed. Tomorrow, work units will arrive to rebuild the ruins of Ospon into a proper outpost, and the civilians will be allowed to return in a few weeks. Until then, the rear units will have to keep the forests of the Living Land at bay, by force if necessary.

Daion was not liberated by the Dynast. It was not the army that saved it. It was a creature, a being he called his master, and for that being he will lay down his life. And if Torturer dares to continue to lead this campaign astray... The First must stay pristine. At any cost. Daion ignored the pain in his body and moved to order the troops to form up. He received word that some soldiers from the Orais ranks were still busy pursuing enemy civilians in the forest.

"Recall them immediately," Daion snapped at a nearby officer. Curses. This is what happens when you work with green recruits! He wondered how many of these fools would catch some deadly disease in the forest.

"This whole advance is shit," he finally said when he was alone, turning off his armor's communication systems and staring down at the surrounding forest. He noticed a few insects running here and there, the only creatures stupid enough not to run from their artillery.

"You insult our plans so?" The voice asked.

"Just telling it how it is, sir." It was impossible to tell when Outsider was eavesdropping on the conversation. Daion came to terms with this unique quirk of his master and always preferred to speak the truth, never mincing his words. "You should demote Torturer and promote Yuria. We should advance as a united front, steadily wiping out all resistance. Look at this, sir. Some of our soldiers even attacked civilians! The Ospon chick died because I had to stop and break the neck of an idiot who was about to crush a child under his feet. Torturer must be going crazy, sending Orais' greenhorns into the fray first, with no thug masters to keep them in line."

"Perhaps. But the terrain is ill-suited for such an advance. The soldiers who dared to break our laws will work the rest of their lives as laborers, building homes for the natives they so mistreated."

"Orais won't like it, sir," Daion said. "Most of those buggers who joined the army dream only of glorious slaughter."

"Then they will be skinned alive, their eyes removed, and their bodies hung for all to see. Discipline will be restored. I will not allow the First to become a den of murderers and raiders," Outsider responded. "And Torturer has already captured us a duchy and a castle with only a few deaths. Numerically, we have gained more than we have lost. Complications happen in every plan, and for now, his plans limit civilians' casualties. Until I arrive, he remains in charge of the operation."

"As you command, sir," Daion grimly agreed.