As Matt turned to leave the military office, Commander Thorne called after him, his voice steady but unyielding. 'In two days , your personal breeder will be there.' Matt paused at the doorway, his hand gripping the frame as a muscle in his jaw tightened. A rush of conflicting emotions surged within him—anger, disgust, helplessness. Without turning to face Thorne, he muttered, 'Do I really have to do this?' His voice, thick with exhaustion from endless battles, betrayed the turmoil festering in his mind. The weight of what awaited him felt heavier than any mission he'd ever been sent on.
Thorne didn't answer. He didn't need to. The silence in the room was suffocating, speaking volumes. It wasn't a choice. It was an obligation, an expectation that he would comply with the Astraellan Dominion's breeding program—another duty shoved upon him, another sacrifice for the survival of their race. But this wasn't combat. It wasn't the familiar brutality of survival. This was something intimate, yet it felt cold and mechanical, devoid of any human connection. Matt didn't wait for an answer. He pushed through the doorway and stepped into the empty streets outside, lighting a cigarette with shaky hands. The sharp inhale of nicotine had once been a comfort, a way to keep steady in the chaos of war. Now, it barely dulled the edge of his thoughts. Today, the usual clarity eluded him, and the cigarette felt as hollow as his purpose.
Matt's cigarette hung loosely between his lips as he walked through the desolate streets, the wind whispering through the abandoned alleyways. The memories clawed at the edges of his mind, unwanted but ever-present, searing images of violence and degradation. The horrors of war had been etched into his soul, and none more so than the pervasive brutality of rape, a weapon as destructive as any blade or bullet. It was in the dead of night during a scouting mission that Matt first encountered the savagery on his own side. He and his unit had been tracking Kraelith movements for weeks, their mission to locate enemy positions and report back. But that night, instead of tactical maneuvers, Matt found himself watching the most base and vile acts of humanity unfold before him.
His fellow soldiers—men who had once been upright, honorable, who had fought beside him in the blood-soaked trenches—had captured a group of Kraelith women. What began as interrogation had swiftly devolved into something much darker. The cries of the women echoed through the night, mingling with the frenzied laughter of the men. Their bodies were treated like little more than spoils of war, discarded and broken after the soldiers had taken what they wanted. Matt had watched from the shadows, too far to stop it but close enough to see everything. Their faces, once twisted with pride for the human cause, were now grotesque with lust and savagery. He had felt a cold sickness rise in his throat as he listened to the women beg for mercy, their pleas ignored. It was a betrayal not only of the cause they fought for but of their very humanity.
Worse still, this was not an isolated incident. During his countless missions, Matt had encountered such scenes repeatedly. Human soldiers, broken by the constant grind of war and the loss of hope, had succumbed to their basest instincts, turning on the vulnerable as an outlet for their own suffering. Rape had become just another weapon in their arsenal—a way to exert dominance, to strip the enemy of their dignity and humanity. The Kraelith women were not the only victims; human civilians, taken captive or found in the wrong place at the wrong time, had met the same fate.
He had tried to bury the memories, but they gnawed at him like hungry wolves, never allowing him peace.
The Kraelith, too, had their own twisted methods. During scouting operations deep behind enemy lines, Matt had stumbled upon the aftermath of Kraelith raids on human villages. The scenes were almost too horrific to comprehend. Women and men alike had been brutalized, their bodies left mangled and discarded in grotesque displays of power. The Kraelith had no interest in mere conquest—they sought to destroy the spirit of their enemies, leaving them as nothing more than hollow shells. Matt had found survivors, broken both in body and mind, shivering in the wreckage of what were once homes. They had been left alive not out of mercy, but as a testament to the depravity of the Kraelith. Children huddled next to their parents' corpses, wide-eyed and mute, scarred by the horrors they had witnessed. The stench of death clung to those places long after the Kraelith had moved on, a reminder of the unspeakable acts that had taken place there.
Once, Matt had come across a group of Kraelith soldiers who had set up camp in the ruins of a small town. He had observed them from the shadows, his plasma sniper rifle trained on their leader, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. But what he saw froze him to his core. Human captives, both men and women, were dragged out from the remnants of their homes, their clothes torn, their faces bruised and bloodied. The Kraelith took their time with them, making sport of the torment. It wasn't just about sex—it was about breaking their captives mentally, ensuring they would never be the same again. The Kraelith soldiers laughed as their victims screamed, their language guttural and filled with sadistic amusement. When they were done, they left the captives to die slowly, exposed to the elements, their bodies desecrated beyond recognition. Matt had wanted to rush in, to stop it, but he had known that it would be suicide. He had been forced to watch, powerless, as the horrors unfolded before his eyes.
This continuous exposure to rape and sexual violence, committed by both humans and the Kraelith, had become a defining part of Matt's psyche. He couldn't forget the faces of the victims—those who had been left as nothing more than living corpses. It had warped his understanding of intimacy, of sex, twisting it into something dark and terrifying. Now, the thought of engaging with the breeder waiting for him at home felt like another step down that same path, another act of violence wrapped in the thin veil of duty. Each time he thought of it, the demon within him stirred, whispering that he was no better than the others, that the darkness of war had left its mark on him too. How could he go through with it? How could he ever be intimate again without seeing the ghosts of the battlefield in every touch?
He shuddered, gripping his cigarette tighter as his thoughts turned to the breeder waiting for him at home. She was just another reminder of how much he had lost, how far from humanity he had fallen. His desire, twisted by the violence he'd witnessed, had warped into something dark and sinister. He couldn't look at sex without seeing it as an act of dominance, of cruelty. How could he participate in something so intimate after everything he had seen?
The voice of the status system stirred in his mind, a neutral presence that mirrored his thoughts. He had been planning to give it a name for some time now—something more soldier-like, more practical. "Voice," he said, "we need to talk." The system responded, its tone matching Matt's gruffness. "What is it?"
"If we're going to be stuck together, I need to call you something," Matt said, exhaling smoke into the cold air. "You're a guide, right? Then you should have a name that fits." There was a pause before the voice answered, "A name would streamline our communication." Matt thought for a moment. "Vanguard," he said. "That's your name now. You're my guide through all this madness."
"Vanguard it is," the voice replied smoothly. Matt took another drag, his gaze hardening. "Vanguard, are there any enemy bases nearby? I need something to focus on." There was a brief silence before Vanguard responded, "Yes. I've located three enemy bases in the area, though I had to use mana to do it, though I removed the trace of my interference, but the moderator has sensed the disturbance so expect more personnel than what is given. Here are the details."
A display flickered before Matt's eyes, the cold efficiency of the system presenting three targets.
Base 1:
Personnel: 50 Kraelith soldiers
Purpose: Supply Depot for frontline reinforcements
Estimated Threat: Moderate
Details: This base controls the supply lines feeding the Kraelith's frontlines—munitions, rations, and medical supplies. It's moderately defended, with hidden trenches and automated turrets. Disabling it will cripple the Kraelith reinforcements for a while.
Base 2:
Personnel: 75 Kraelith soldiers
Purpose: Intelligence Gathering Post
Estimated Threat: High
Details: A heavily fortified outpost focused on intercepting human communications. Elite Kraelith forces guard the base, equipped with experimental weapons. Destroying it would deal a significant blow to their intelligence network, but the risks are extreme.
Base 3:
Personnel: 30 Kraelith soldiers
Purpose: Weaponry and Ammunition Storage
Estimated Threat: Low
Details: A lightly guarded armory storing advanced weaponry. It's hidden, making it an easy target for a quick strike. Its destruction would cripple the Kraelith's ability to mount an offensive.
Vanguard's voice cut through the haze of his thoughts. "There are more, but I selected these due to proximity. Completing them within a day will allow you to return unnoticed." Matt grunted in acknowledgment. He needed the violence, the bloodshed. It was the only way he knew how to quiet the storm of dark thoughts swirling in his head. But Vanguard's warning came swiftly.
"I had to use mana to scan the area," Vanguard cautioned again. "The moderator felt the disturbance. More Kraelith soldiers will be on their way." Matt didn't care. More soldiers meant more blood. More violence to drown out the demons gnawing at his mind.
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In an ethereal plane, an unseen guardian the moderator was tasked with maintaining the equilibrium of the universe. It existed outside the physical realm, observing from a vantage point that allowed it to sense disturbances in the cosmic order. It sensed the surge of mana that shouldn't have been accessible yet—an anomaly in the fabric of reality that rippled through the galaxy like a stone dropped into still water. While it couldn't pinpoint the source, it understood the general area where the disturbance originated. Someone within Braxis Hold the human fort had tapped into mana, invoking a response from the moderator. In its role, the moderator safeguarded the galaxy, waiting for the day when its full potential could be unlocked. Until then, it would ensure that no unauthorized use of mana went unchecked. The disturbance prompted an immediate reaction; the moderator would implant thoughts into the minds of those in the Kraelith bases nearby, urging them to reinforce their positions. It was a calculated maneuver, designed to keep the balance in check while preparing for the inevitable emergence of greater power.