Rargnes and his group waited armed inside a cellar. No one spoke. People yawned. Some played card games while others listened to music, leaning against the walls. The discussions from the previous night seemed so distant.
Each one tried, in their own way, to cope with the fear of the impending battle that never really left. Rargnes noticed that the locals and Jean were trembling the most. He concluded that they themselves might not have been sure of what they were saying the night before.
Maybe it was just a way to convince themselves. Perhaps it would have been better if he had discussed their processes. Contradicting them would have hurt them and kept them in their positions. Silence was acceptable. But maybe questioning them more deeply would have made them think more.
He resigned himself to the fact that he would see comrades die without being able to do anything. Losing parts of his body sometimes seemed worse than death. If only there were a way for a future version of himself to help them... A Rargnes strong enough to change this world.
Here, no selection had taken place. Seeing beggars, elderly, worn out by age and the hardships of life, tugged at his heart. Most of the people were even less trained than in their world.
Someone knocked on the door.
The group looked at each other, and everyone grabbed their weapon. Then, with a glance, Luan slowly got up from his chair and moved forward. Rargnes and a local positioned themselves on either side of the door. Luan opened the door. They spoke in whispers for a few moments.
After that, Luan turned to them and said, "It's time, let's go."
The fresh air caressed the group in the darkness. From the silhouette that slipped through the door, Rargnes recognized a local teenager who was likely his height. Their natural sturdiness was unmistakable. It was as if their race was made for combat. Thus, the system must have granted them classes to equalize.
They advanced in single file behind Luan, guided only by the light of his lamp. Several times, Rargnes was tempted to ask where they were going. He had some ideas, but the darkness changed everything.
He then had a thought. The preliminary scouting work seemed like just a way to keep them busy—or even monitor them—until the time came. None of the leaders really valued them. He knew it, it was logical, but that didn't take away the discomfort.
They finally stopped in an alley. Luan turned around and said, "See?"
He pointed to a mansion that Rargnes had observed before. There had been two guards during the day, but they must have been asleep now.
"The militia has already taken control of the armory. We just have this place to deal with. We kill those who are arming themselves; we try to keep the others alive."
He turned his gaze to Rargnes, Jean, and Mei.
"There's no energy for murder in this world."
"I understand, but how many of them are there?" Rargnes asked.
"Two guards and at most ten men," replied Luan.
"Women, children?"
"Maybe a few teenagers capable of fighting. Use the staff for them."
He grew increasingly uncomfortable with the answers. It had been too long since he had hunted himself. Since the fourth apocalypse had emerged, since his language and memories began to fade, he had changed. Deep down, he had never regained his memories; he had seen important moments from different perspectives.
That changed everything.
"Classes?"
"Even if they have some, we don't know them. Don't worry: they're weaker and still asleep."
He must have been guessing. The difficulty was unusual, but so were their rewards. Given the time needed to put on armor, their opponents would be without helmets or breastplates, and the most accessible weapons would be swords or knives.
"It's still a lot," Luan continued. "So as long as we try"—he emphasized the word 'try' with a gesture resembling air quotes—"to capture them, it'll be fine. No one can blame us. And they won't have much equipment either - otherwise, we wouldn't have been able to win. Do you understand?"
That must have been why the groups were mixed. But, as 'good fortune' would have it, they 'fortunately' stumbled upon a group that included his stepson, an opportunist, and a woman. All of these seemed to be criteria for their plans to succeed. And it wasn't going to be him who confronted them.
Mei explained the information to Jean, and a plan was devised in a few minutes. Then, it was just a matter of minutes. The walkie-talkie rang.
"Launch the operation now." said the voice. "I repeat..." they turned it off.
The light was passed to Rargnes, who moved forward first, deploying a large shield before him. Their footsteps blended with the jingling of their armor, which didn't seem to alert the inhabitants in the middle of the night.
All kindled their lamps from his. Then, Rargnes placed his shield on his right and, after a few deep breaths, charged with it at the door, which shattered open, causing a loud sound.
Rargnes struck twice more, widening the entrance, paying no attention to the sounds of awakening that began to scream after a few seconds of bewilderment. But already, they could hear the sound of running footsteps in the corridors rushing toward them.
Rargnes charged as the door closed on him, smashing through it and crossing a few meters into a room where most of the occupants were still waking up. With a quick glance, he identified a dozen people sleeping in three beds. A closed wooden door was on the right.
Rargnes placed the torch on the ground in front of the general astonishment and charged at the soldiers already grabbing their swords.
Shield held in front, he barreled into one, knocking him over, then grabbed the mace at his waist and seized it to smash the man repeatedly, who didn't even have time to scream.
The cries came from those who witnessed the strange spectacle unfolding before their eyes in the halo of light piercing the darkness.
Then, the others arrived with their lamps. Rargnes stood up as a sword flew in his direction, glancing off his armor. He struck sideways with his shield, and once the man was down and his left arm safe, he swung his massive mace with such force that it shattered the man's head.
When Rargnes turned around, his comrades were already attacking the other men. Jean stood at the entrance to the room, glancing around, somewhat troubled.
Once the people were down, Rargnes made his way to the wooden door and positioned his shield in front of it, standing stoically while the others beat the children and women.
Once they were all on the ground, apparently knocked out, Rargnes smashed the door open, only to be met with high-speed ice shards from the darkness. The shards struck him like car crashes, forcing him back a step, having pierced half the energy steel where they hit.
A horrible pain shot through his legs where a shard had struck the bone, and he moved aside just before another spell pierced the walls of the room.
He looked at the others, who signaled him to move forward. Drawing in a deep, painful breath, he gripped his shield in his right hand with more determination and prepared a spell in his left hand.
A moment later, he charged, his shield barely fitting through the door, casting a flame spell that briefly illuminated the room, where he counted five figures, three of them arming themselves. The fire forced them to retreat.
He grabbed a smoke grenade, threw it to the ground, and rushed to where he had noted the positions of the two covering the group. Behind him, his teammates surged into the room.
He crushed the skull of a mage while his allies killed the other and surrounded the remaining ones, who were unable to defend themselves properly. Given the situation, they even managed to take two prisoners.
Soon, they turned the lamps back on, tied up the survivors, and looted the place—no one could blame them for what their opponents had never declared to the city or had underestimated.
Rargnes remained with Luan, keeping watch of the prisoners, while being bandaged his wound, which, thankfully, wasn't deep.
Rargnes smoked a cigarette butt, inhaling deeply all the crap contained within, and exhaled it slowly, the smoke rising into the air in front of the dazed eyes of the tied-up families.
He looked with displeasure at the low-quality cigar that had stunk up his beard. In the background, in the blur, he occasionally recognized the faces of future slaves or the soon-to-be executed. Most were terrified, two were angry. His gaze swept over them without emotion, and he returned his attention to his cigar.
Then, after a moment, the door opened. Rargnes, sitting on the bed whose blankets were still stained with blood, turned away.
"We're done, you good?"
"Yeah," Rargnes said, getting up with a painned growl. "The battle's over?"
"Normally"