“W-what is it?” Jiehong asked, followed by Whiskey.

Surprised as his friends had been, Zan thought none too differently: what was it indeed?!

Inside the box, now emptied of the many ultra-soft pebbles, was a mystifying device. There was a superstructural framework filled with small strands of material Sigma-Prime had called ‘wires.’

“Is it a helmet?” Whiskey asked. “Do you think it will fit over your existing headgear?”

“Our existing headgear is just… nothing, so it should be fine… not like I’ll be the one wearing it, though. Right? This is just for you?” Jiehong said.

“For now. Yes? I couldn’t imagine the Wardens would only give this tech to me and only me, though, buddy. I am sure this is a prototype sort of thing and once they hammer out the imperfections, you will get one too. Please, just don’t start in like usual…” Zan said, being direct with Jiehong.

“I won’t start in. I am being better about how I express myself. All’s I am saying is this headset looks pretty cool,” Jiehong replied.

“Headset?” Zan asked, confused.

“You know… like a crown?” Jiehong said. “What the royal family wears?”

“Oh… I guess? Maybe. If it was like a really ugly automotron. It looks so flimsy but also bulky? Do the Wardens really think this is going to change the flow of the war?” Zan asked.

“They must. Otherwise, they would not have sent it to you,” Whiskey said. “And besides, they were desperate for me to deliver it to you. Being the ever-king person I am, I agreed.”

“Didn’t they say for us to contact them when you got it? Jiehong reminded.

“Oh, right? They did… we should ping them,” Zan said, finger already pressing the button on his earpiece.

“Zan,” the Screen Master said, picking his call before Sigma-Prime.

“Hello. I received your package. You instructed me to give you notice once I did.”

“I did. I am patching in Jiehong for this call. Hold…” Simulacrum said. A moment later Zan saw Jiehong nod his head. He was patched in, too.

“So, what is this? I am looking at an odd-looking helmet?” Zan asked.

“This is the Command Center System. An all-in-one programmable war suite,” the Screen Master said.

“A war suite? Programmable?”

“Programmable is a word which means functions of a device can be redefined if a user, a person, inputs certain parameters. In the world of technology-advancement, this means ‘coding.’ I will not get into specifics of coding and what it means, as it is a very complicated notion. Understand, though, coding relates to the ‘guts,’ so to speak, of technology. In your rural existence, Zan, you are familiar with a low-level of technology. However, throughout the eons and places, this is not the case for everyone.”

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

Jiehong spoke up: “Alright. I have more education than Zan. I understand the most elementary basics you’re telling us. But what is a ‘war suite’? You said before this device was not a weapon, so how is it related to war?”

“An excellent question, Jiehong. This creation is a suite in the same way a suit of armor is a comprehensive protection system. When someone wears this suite, it will reveal a comprehensive layout of the battlefield topography along with strategic iconography. It will also display notes on battlefield progress and the health of its participants. Zan. Since you have said before you cannot read, I have programmed this suite with icons in place of words. You will see what I mean when you wear it.”

“It sounds… incredible. I guess I should put it on…” Zan said.

With slightly trembling hands, Zan picked up the headset. This time, the headset reacted in a way it hadn’t before and Zan dropped it back in the box out of reflex; “What was the matter?” Jiehong asked, seeing Zan drop it; Zan replied, “It looked like snakes moving!”

Sigma-Prime, evidently listening in, spoke and said, “The principal material used in this device’s creation is called ‘snake-iron.’ It is known to have psycho-reactions to certain people. We don’t know why it has the reactions it does, but we know these reactions — slithering, you probably saw? — are harmless. Pick it up and put it on your head. Though Snake-iron is a rare ore, it is not a snake.”

Hoping to hope Sigma-Prime was right, Zan picked the device up again. Like last time, it reacted and Zan saw how its body slithered over itself and around the circuit’s superstructure. But Sigma-Prime was right. Though it moved, there was no head to bite Zan and, as he saw its metallic properties, Zan’s fear faded.

Sliding the Commend Center System on his head, Zan wasn’t sure how he should feel about a device which now continued its slithering but at a faster pace. Around his head, the device moved and matted his hair. The wide-eyed expression of his friends did not help matters, especially matters related to Zan freaking out. Or lack of, therefore.

About to remove it, Zan couldn’t, as he became shocked by the unthinkable. “The device bite me!” Zan shouted.

“It did not ‘bite you,’ Zan. We have magically enchanted the device. We have also imbued it with powerful properties, benefitting a warrior and a commander. Right now, much like the sentient crystal within your belly or the mite in your ear, which acts as your communicative device, this war suite will find its home inside you in much the same way, except for your head. Before long, you will hardly notice it is there,” the Screen Master calmly spoke as Zan writhed on the ground in agony.

Hardly able to hear the Warden, Zan kicked and thrashed on the floor, his friends unable to do anything to help. He screamed and screamed. Which invited the unwelcome but good-intending nosiness of the other soldiers who Whiskey had to shoo from the already too small tent. Easy to do when they had to evacuate the tent as well as it was too small for three people and when one of them uncontrollably mashed their body, contorting it into difficult shapes.

How long Zan thrashed, no one could say. It had been long enough where multiple groups of soldiers gathered then dispersed, so intrigued they were by the noise, but unable to stay for long simply to watch a young man in pain. When the thrashing finally ended, Whiskey and Jiehong re-entered the tent. They found a prone Zan soaked in sweat.

Zan spoke with a labored husk. “What… was… that?!” he said to Simulacrum.

“Due to the other systems within your body already, the Command Center System had to force integrate and update the existing systems. We apologize. We did not know this would cause you such pain and discomfort, Zan.”

“Help me up… please,” Zan asked of his friends.

Jiehong manhandled him so Whiskey would not have to and before long he was back on his feet. He walked a moment around the tent, then settled back inside. He felt off-balanced for a while but recovered quickly. If there was any ‘bright’ side to this strange Order and their painful technology, it was he always recovered quickly. After searing agony. But still… quickly.

With slobber all over his face, Zan had to put on an act. “Alright. Alright. I am better now. What next?”