There were endless desolate lands before him.
A blink of an eye changed the world into another scene of massacre, another ground where he had failed, yet again. The corpses of the imitations of those who had once been his fellow villagers, his fellow men and women, lay strewn, their blooded bodies broken in multiple pieces, chewed in the mouths of their old enemies, the demonic creatures.
They didn't remember the glory they once had, so they just accepted it. But he did remember it - he couldn't just forget it, or they would all die for real.
"If you hear me," Louis said slowly. "You should never accept the Red Star's donation; it will make sure to take your everything... your hatred isn't failing you. The Red Star can never be accepted, not in its existence nor in this world. Refuse his gifts. He won't force you – but will make it near impossible to refuse them."
How many years has it been to be nothing more than a tool?
He blinked at the corpse. He had loved them. He had once been more... if only he could have changed something.
But that would never happen, not in the face of the all-powerful Red Star who would make sure it never happened. It would punish the entire village for hunting down the rebels.
And their punishment would never end – eternally suffering the impulses of the Red Star, reaping the karma to weaken the rebels who had long since left their world.
No wonder the Red Star was hated wherever it existed. He couldn't even hate it: even his hatred would be used by it to make it even stronger.
"But for once, it isn't as painful... it's only a decade-like death, and it is acceptable when we modify some things."
How could he make it so this world never ends?
He sharpened his sword, fiery particles blossoming before his gloomy eyes.
"I guess it has been somewhat better since the king is asleep, as long as I do my mission..."
***
Rargnes woke up and headed to a room where Yurs, the commander, two goblins, and an invading scribe speaking the dominant language of the noble's kingdom, which they had learned, were present.
He sat and listened to the various lessons that covered the global and local customs of the kingdom that the scribe knew. They took notes and retained them in an atypical but familiar language that wrote itself.
He followed this by dressing in the attire of invaders, loose, bourgeois-colored clothes, which revealed a fairly important status.
"This one," said the scribe, pointing to an outfit, "is forbidden in the city we're going to, so we'll wear it and pay the fine; it will make us stand out.
"Rargnes nodded, and servants fitted him with a magnificent sword at his waist, as well as a small axe and a mace.
After his lessons, Rargnes walked the corridors and went to the commander's room to ask for advice. The commander welcomed him and invited him inside.
"Good class," he told him, exhaling a puff of smoke. "but a bit dangerous all the same."
He had chosen Amor Nightmare. The effect, although destroying his class, would at least make him live. He seemed much more powerful than the increase in defense by the number of allies killed on the battlefield. In any case, he was not going to improve his class anytime soon.
'It's going to be complicated if the enemy who is going to supply our weapons can see our classes and powers.'
But, of course, it would be foolish to declare him an enemy without having studied the different groups. He had a small connection with Yurs and the commander's group members, who would allow him to switch sides more easily as long as he nurtured those relations.
He just had to make sure he didn't hang out only with Sengrar's group and that he didn't accept any proposals definitively.
"Sengrar told me I had a power... and that I might be able to control it a little better so the mission goes well."
The commander nodded. "Well, you gotta ask yourself."
"How?"
"It's simple; ask yourself in your own brain, and you'll already see results. My power isn't that strong as Sengrar told you."
'Yeah, right. As if I'm going to believe you.'
He tried asking in different ways, but the commander refused to tell him. He looked at him seriously and told him he was telling the truth, explaining the same thing differently.
Perplexed, Rargnes tried and soon realized, in the days that followed, that he was making fun of him. He kept a bitter taste of this person.
At last, the group was deemed ready to implant themselves; they just needed some location.
"I got a contact in this zone," said Rargnes, pointing at a map.
"Who?"
"Roaes, he has retired there for two years already; that'd cut short the rumors."
"We'll add some with the mafia," said the administrator goblin. I know some of them and some companies; that'll make things easier."
"Yeah, the zone is good enough. Let's just come under the retirement purpose with Rargnes and Yurs leading. We buy some lands, donate some to the churchman in charge, and pay a visit to all the local ones."