[Author note : New KoSP chapter. The Iron Lad squib is for tomorrow, don't worry guys !
If you're interested in my stories or want to encourage me, please check out my Patréon : https://www.patréon.com/user?u=66371596 (replace the é by a normal e) or look for Cathbel on their website
KoSP : 2 advanced chapters
The Squib who became Iron Lad... In DC : 3 advanced chapters
Enjoy !]
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Some time later, on the battlefield.
The Preacher was standing, looking around lazily while brushing his cheek sometimes and wincing. Waiting for something… Suddenly :
« What that really necessary ? » The Preacher asked to seemingly no one. « Not only did I have to pass off as a moronic fanatic, I got my ass handed to me… And I think, he really planned on killing me, at first. »
A voice coming from his left answered :
« We had to know if he would be dangerous to the locals. We didn't let him escape so that he could cause mayhem on one of our protectorate… »
The Preacher, or at least, the man who introduced himself as such, snorted :
« I know ! You let him escape because you basically couldn't keep him contained. And after fighting him, I understand… I could feel my magic being absorbed by him. What the fuck is he ? »
« Hey ! » The voice protested, amusement in its tone. « Language, Preacher ! But, more seriously… We don't really know. At some point, he was Terran, or at least he told us he was. And the blood samples we managed to obtain seem to confirm it, but… He recently seemed to have… Mutated for a lack of a better term. His blood cells still haven't settled. Well… That's what the eggheads tell me, anyway. »
The Preacher turned toward the other speaker, a figure clad in a much too big coat where tentacles could be peeked, from time to time because of his movements or the wind.
« I don't care what you say your scientists found… This guy was no Terran ! Terrans are all self-absorbed, xenophobic and egotistic douche-bags ! He was… not. »
The figure shrugged and admitted :
« He did say he came from a time before the Terran Empire and their home world was called Earth… So, if that's true, maybe they were different at that time. »
« Maybe… » The Preacher rubbed his cheeks once more and exclaimed : « Ouch ! Damn, he hits like a freight train ! » Silence and then : « So… What do you guys plan to do about him ? »
Another shrug :
« What can we do ? Observe. Try to learn more about him. His personality, his abilities, his relationship with his crystal friend… Maybe find more of his weaknesses. And if need be… We'll try to contain or neutralize him. »
« Okay, well… Ahem ! Don't call me, huh ? »
And with that, the Preacher opened his fire wings and took to the skies. Meanwhile, the figure watched him take some altitude as he muttered to himself :
« No offense, kid but… You're too weak and green to take him on a second time. We'll need a team ! Preferably one that's operated for a while now. »
As he opened his wrist-mounted computer, he stopped to look at something for a while, before he opened his comms :
« This is the Captain speaking. I need a pick-up ! »
* * * * *
A young man was soaring through the skies, crying joyfully, feeling exhilarated.
« Woohoo ! » Simon yelled, before he almost immediately… « Oh, shit ! »… Started falling to the ground, as if gravity started to reassert itself on his person. After his crash-landing, he got up as if nothing was wrong, dusting himself off while grumbling :
« Isn't gravity a source of energy ? Why does it affect me ? »
Until now, every energy sources that came into contact with his skin had been nullified and absorbed : kinetic, sonic, heat, etc… He was pretty sure gravity was a source of kinetic energy since it drew him toward a mass, but for some reason, it still affected him.
« Guess I'll have to work on it a bit… »
Crys approached in his new and improved 'body' : he had re-designed the pieces of the tanks to make it more compact. It now looked like some kind of robot 3 meters tall, with cannons for arms and caterpillar tracks for legs. The machine-guns were nowhere to be seen but Simon doubted he'd discarded them…
« What are we doing, Simon ? » The artificial voice of Crys came through the translator's ear piece.
« Well… I was hoping to get some training done before we reached the tyrant's place… What was his name ? Sherif ? Saroumane ? Whatever… I wanted to make an entrance by crashing through his palace, making a badass three points landing or something but… Guess that's not happening, right now ! »
« Three points landing ? »
« Yeah, that's a landing made popular by movies from my time. Remember the Matrix ? »
Since the crystal life-form had already sifted through his memories, he knew what he was talking about. In fact, he wondered why he even bothered asking…
« Oh ! I remember… Though the practicality of such a landing, for anyone not invulnerable seems… doubtful. »
« Yes, but Neo could manipulate the Matrix and Superman is invulnerable to pretty much anything not of his world… or magic. So… » Simon trailed off.
Looking at his companions, he commented :
« Perhaps we should find something like a junkyard or something… Maybe stop by a military base so you could make yourself a better body ? »
« Let's do that ! » Crys agreed.
* * * * *
Captain Durn, who once upon a time, was the host for the Terran-Crystal duo, had come back to his ship and headed directly for the Chapel, a room to worship the Psionic God… and meet the Abbot. In the TUP military, Abbots had a peculiar place. They weren't taught any tactics, combat or otherwise, nor were they taught about diplomacy or politics. And most didn't bother with science either. And yet, they held an important post.
Often, they could take decisions in the place of the Captain of the ship. It was exactly what happened with the Terran… The Abbot knew he would escape somehow. He even warned the Captain about it. He also told him not to take any actions regarding that. And his superiors approved this decision…
Despite being a believer, Captain Durn didn't… couldn't understand. There was a reason why they said the Will of the Lord couldn't be understood by the common man. Captain Durn accepted that.
Still…
« Are you sure about this ? » He asked the Abbot.
The Abbot was kneeling in front of a giant golden cross with a hollowed circle at the top, kind of like an Egyptian ankh. His hands were joined, and his face, eyes closed were pointed at the ground.
« Yes. God wishes to see… what this Terran is made off. »
Captain Durn was taken aback hearing that. Slightly fearful, he asked :
« Isn't God… all-seeing and all-knowing ? »
Calmly, the Abbot responded :
« He is… And yet, the Terran is an enigma to him. He can only see him through the eyes of his subjects. »
And then, the man turned toward the captain. He was a Seraf whose wings were clipped… He had cut them himself while he studied the scriptures because he believed it would help him converse with God. And it did ! Though probably more because he willed it than anything…
Looking into the eyes of the uncertain Captain, the Abbot told him in a reassuring tone :
« God has seen the fight between the Templar apprentice and the Terran… He is glad. Most people with such power would lose themselves. Especially in stressful situations. And yet, the Terran managed to reign in his furor… There is hope for him to see the Light ! »
The captain's tentacle-arms loosened, losing the tension he didn't even notice he had. His face showed the relief as his tentacles-mouth gently flexed to the sides. With a nod, he said one word :
« Good ! »