After sharing a few laughs with the other generals, Ron stepped away, leaving behind the brief moment of camaraderie.
As he made his way toward the Central Stronghold, his stride was calm and unhurried, embodying the calm authority he was known for. His eyes roved over his surroundings with a keen attentiveness, which he had acquired over time, taking in every detail of the stronghold and its people.
The Central Stronghold stood as a symbol of humanity's indomitable spirit, its small yet steady walls and fortified structures were a testament to their resilience.
Each step Ron took echoed with a sense of history and determination. The stronghold, bustling with activity, was the nerve center of their operations, and every person within its walls played a crucial role in their fight for survival.
As Ron moved through the corridors, his presence did not go unnoticed. People who were engrossed in their duties would catch sight of him and, with a start, would gasp before hurriedly bowing in respect.
The reverence was almost tangible, a silent acknowledgment of the weight he carried as their Marshall. Ron, maintaining his composed demeanor, responded with a simple nod, acknowledging their gestures without breaking his stride.
Pride swelled within him as he observed the tireless efforts of those around him. These were the men and women who had endured countless hardships, yet continued to fight with unwavering resolve. But alongside the pride was a heavy burden of responsibility. Every decision he made could mean the difference between life and death for these people. The weight of their expectations, their hopes, and their fears rested squarely on his shoulders.
He felt a whirlwind of emotions raging in his mind.
No matter how calm or inexpressive he might act, he was never indifferent. His circumstances and experiences have changed him but they never made him lose his emotions or the sense of belonging he has towards this world. He might not feel any special and purposeful emotional connect with them, but the sense of responsibility he felt towards the people has always been true and pure.
As he looked at the faces of the people he passed by, Ron felt a deep, unspoken connection with each of them. He could see the lines of fatigue etched into their features, the silent determination in their eyes.
They trusted him to lead them through the storm, to find a way to survive the imminent threat that loomed over them once more. The thought of the new danger they would soon face sent a shiver down his spine. This new threat was unlike any they had encountered before, and it threatened to unravel all they had fought so hard to protect.
His mind was filled with memories of past battles, of comrades lost, and the countless sacrifices made. He felt a pang of sorrow for those they had lost along the way. The stronghold was a sanctuary, but it was also a constant reminder of the battles fought and the lives sacrificed. He passed by rows of necropolis and cemeteries, each housing the remains of the dead, who were fortunate enough to have their bodies intact for future burials.
Yet, amidst the sorrow, there was also a flicker of hope. The resilience of his people, their ability to adapt and persevere, filled him with a quiet determination. He was reminded of why they fought, of the future they sought to build—a future where humanity could thrive once more, free from the shadows of the past.
The central bunker loomed ahead, its reinforced steel doors and thick concrete walls designed to withstand any attack. Standing outside, waiting patiently, was General Sir Orville.
Nearly sixty five years old, Orville was a living legend, one of the rare few who had survived the Second Change. His very presence was a remarkable feat, given the devastating toll the Second Change had taken on the older population. His survival was not just a stroke of luck; it was an exemplification of his indomitable spirit and unmatched skill.
Orville's appearance was striking. His hair, once a deep black, was now a darker shade of silver, yet his posture was as straight as ever, exuding an air of unwavering strength. Deep lines etched his face, each one a mark of the countless battles he had fought and the years of leadership he had provided. His eyes, sharp and piercing, held a depth of wisdom and experience that few could match. Unlike the other generals who often donned the more practical attire of their roles, Orville wore a uniform that seemed to command respect effortlessly, its design both functional and emblematic of his status.
By his side was his spear, a weapon that had become synonymous with his name. It was no ordinary spear; its craftsmanship was exquisite, with a finely honed blade that gleamed in the light and a shaft that bore intricate carvings, each telling a story of battles won and enemies vanquished. The spear was not just a weapon but a symbol of Orville's unyielding resolve and his readiness to defend humanity at all costs. It was an ever present heritage that has been with him since he was a young and aspiring adult.
Ron approached Orville with a sense of nostalgia. The general's presence was a reassuring sight, a reminder of the strength and leadership that had kept them all together through the darkest times.
Orville was no ordinary man. He was the first ever human being to attain the status of an Ascendant.
Yes, that's right. Although believed by the masses as such, the late General Emma Williams, was in fact, the second human to become an Ascendant, not the first.
There were various considerations that led to this decision, but the foremost of them was the absence of a leader. Frank Williams, who's geniuses was already out in the open for everyone to see, couldn't really act as a leading figure for humanity as he was lacking in strength.
But this problem was solved when Emma, who was also a former student of Sir Orville, advanced to become an Ascendant.
Now, with Frank's insighta and Emma's strength, they leaded the humanity under the banner of preservation and restoration.
This was the plan Orville thought of at that time. He masked and concealed his own advancement so that humanity can reunite under a single leader.
Of course, there were still many problems to this cause but now the human race atleast had a direction they can work upon.
Unfortunately, this was a decision that Orville came to regret later.
As Ron drew nearer, Orville turned his gaze toward him, his eyes reflecting a mixture of respect and the silent understanding shared by those who have faced the abyss and returned stronger.
"Sir Orville," Ron greeted, his voice steady.
"Marshall," Orville replied with a nod, his voice carrying the weight of years yet as firm as the spear by his side.
The moment was a poignant reminder of the resilience of the human spirit, embodied by these two men who stood at the forefront of humanity's struggle for survival. Together, they were the guardians of hope, ready to face whatever new challenges lay ahead.
Ron, after acknowledging the greeting, started speaking. His tone and demeanor, although still as confident and imposing as ever, was laced with respect as he talked to not only his Mother's, but his own teacher as well.
"Others told me about your arrival. You arrived rather early, considering the distance you would have had to cover in coming here from Apex Sanctum stronghold."
Ron asked with a steady and respectful tone. Although his tone was respectful, the dignity of a leader couldn't be more apparent.
"It's nothing much. The signal came rather unexpectedly, so I thought whatever the new issue was, it must be significant and came over as soon as possible."
Orville explained. His tone was calm and collected and peaceful to the ears of the listener.
Then, after a moment, he started speaking again. This time, his expression was abnormally solemn, and his tone held the weight of years of battle and struggle.
"What about your investigation? What did you find? Is it related to the emergency signal you sent? Or is it a new threat we are unaware of?"
Orville asked a series of questions,his words betraying his calm demeanor.
Ron, expecting the questions, didn't show any visible changes in his expression but the slight waver in his eyes couldn't be hidden.
The air around the two men seemed to became more heavy by each passing second.
Ron closed his eyes, and opened them back in the next moment.
He opened his mouth and uttered the words.
"It's confirmed. Our fears have come true."
His voice was low, yet it echoed in the ears of Orville like a howling roar.
Ron continued speaking, his tone abnormally grave.
"It's coming."
"A Stampede."
"And this time, it's greater than what we faced six years back."
Ron concluded his answer with those last words.
/Whizzz...../
A cold breeze brush past them, making their hair flutter. The silence in the surrounding disassociatng.
Orville closed his eyes, not uttering a word.
His hands clutched the spear behind him so hard that they started bleeding but he didn't feel an ounce of pain.