Chapter 46: Into the Fortress

The fortress lay silent near the central area of the urban fringe.

The civilians, through the narrow gaps of their houses or broken windows, peeked nervously on the large formation of soldiers outside the protective wall.

Leading them was a man in a darker combat uniform, unadorned save for a single insignia on his shoulders.

He carried no rifle in hand, only a sidearm at his waist and an unusual calm. When he stopped, the formation stopped with him.

A nervous man, unlucky to have remained outside, stepped forward and asked.

“Dear soldiers, sir, may I ask what are you doing here?”

“I am Commander Hans Flemmens,” Hans introduced himself. “I come here to deliver news to you.”

Parents grasped their children with caution. The others gripped whatever was in their hands in fear.

In silence, Hans raised his hand and signaled to Dmitri.

He obeyed without a word, presenting a bulging pouch and putting it on the ground. From it rolled the head of the warlord; his face stricken with confusion and fear.

The civilians gasped.

“Sir, this is—?!”

“A declaration,” Hans spoke, cold air forming from his mouth. “This fortress is now under my command. No one here will be harmed unless they interfere with my goals. Food, water, and shelter shall remain unchanged. No, they will be managed—for the better of us all.”

With wide arms, he continued.

“Those who obey, you may stay. Those who resist, leave now while you still have the chance.”

The man who was in front shivered, but fear wasn’t in his eyes. He stared at Hans’s imposing figure and slowly dropped to his knees.

“Commander, we pledge—”

“Wait!” a voice interrupted, followed by a middle-aged woman revealing herself. “Sir, how about the warlord’s subordinates?”

“You miss them?” Hans asked.

“No…” the woman gulped to Hans’s amusement.

“Bring them in.” he ordered.

Four people—a woman and three men, were dragged forward then pushed into the ground. The two men struggled, gritting their teeth and hurling indistinct curses from their taped mouths.

“Yunera!”

“She’s alive!”

“Thank goodness she’s alive!”

The civilians’ murmurs reached Hans’s ears. He eyed the long-haired woman, tinged with red eyes blankly staring at the ground.

A celebrity? His eyes shifted back to the crowd, showing his white teeth.

“The remnants of the warlord’s forces. This should satisfy your curiosity, madame?”

“Yes… commander.” she lowered her head and backed away.

Hans surveyed the rest fortress.

“What about the rest? Do you have any objection?”

Everyone remained silent.

“Then it’s a yes.” Hans turned to Dmitri. “You know what to do.”

Dmitri nodded, saluting. “Yes, Commander!”

“You!” Hans pointed to the man who knelt on the ground.

“Yes, commander?” the man raised his head, unsure what Hans wanted of him.

“Bring me where the warlord stays.”

“Yes!” the man quickly got up, patted the dirt off his pants, and showed the way to Hans.

The fortress, cramped like a slum, lacked the filth he expected.

The man introduced the quarters, the important personnel, and how the fortress came to be.

“The warlord is an ex-convict, you say?” Hans asked.

“Yes, Commander,” the man who called himself Arthur, nodded. “We’re not certain of his history, but… his subordinates said so. You can ask that poor girl Yunera more.”

A long sigh left Arthur’s frail body. Days of working hard for the warlord has taken a toll of him. With the change of leaderships, he looked forward to better life under Hans.

“Everyone felt sympathetic to her.” Hans noticed Arthur’s sense of pity. “You all know her?”

“We were neighbors, was.” Arthur reminisced, brows furrowed. “That lass is strong-headed, never-backing-down-kind of woman. A rare of her kind, but the type that gets played over. She worked as a secretary before all this madness happened. Though she has lived a new life—ascension, whatever it was, she remains enslaved to someone; till the end was what I thought.”

His weary eyes gazed at Hans, “May the Commander not be harsh to her. She has lived a life full of servitude to others, not of hers.”

“Hmm…” Hans noted. “I’ll keep that in mind. What about the rest?”

“I know nothing more than that, Commander,” Arthur stopped in front of a double-door room. “What lies beyond here, you can understand more than from a man like me.”

“Heh,” Hans chuckled. “I like you, old man. How about you help me, a youngster and a Commander of soldiers, run this place around?”

“I… but why me” Arthur was stumped, not expecting Hans extending favor to him.

“No reason.” Hans lied. “If I wanted someone else, I wouldn’t have talked to you.”

A large faction was huge burden to his accumulating responsibilities. It was best to look for a reliable scapegoat before everything became too bureaucratic.

“Then I will be grateful of the Commander’s trust.”

“After you.” Hans gestured.

As the door’s opened, the sight of a large map welcomed their eyes. Five seats were put around a large wooden table—two on each side and one at the edge.

Hans extended his hand, caressing the objects laying on the counters or the desks. He caught on a small stack of papers on the desk. Written on it were reports from the warlord’s subordinates, and what looks to be a plan.

“How was it?” Hans asked. “A life under the warlord’s rule?”

“I’m afraid it was very hectic, Commander.” Arthur replied.

“So, he was harsh?”

“Very much so.”

“What about the fortress’s supplies? Who managed them?”

“Erm, you may have killed them, Commander.” Arthur sweated.

“Very unfortunate then.” Hans rummaged through the documents. “Did the warlord spoke of expansion?”

“The warlord is— was content of his territory, Commander.” Arthur replied. “That may have been the case, but his obsession to guns and power couldn’t be contained. Alas, he has met demise under your hands.”

“Indeed,” Hans affirmed. “What about the surrounding area? The police station, the small clinic?”

“The clinic remains untouched, Commander,” Arthur stood still. “But the station was one he couldn’t fathom to breach.”

“Oh, why is that?” Hans was intrigued.

“Because of your interruption, Commander.”

“Right.” Hans’s mouth twitched. “You said the warlord gathered you all here to create this fortress?”

“Yes.”

“Did he demonstrate his power to you all then?”

“No, it was his subordinates who rescued us,” Arthur corrected. “By the time we were integrated here, the warlord was already powerful.”

“I see, so you do not know how his power came to be?”

“I am not knowledgeable of that, Commander.” Arthur spoke with gritted teeth. Though he may have been appointed as Hans’s subordinate, his inadequacy to answer the questions frustrated him.

Hans fingers paused on the handle. Most of the information matches, save for this—huh?

The half-drawn drawer. There lay bottles of pills carefully grouped in different boxes.

He grabbed one and read the contents.

Anti-psychotic.

Then the other two. However, as he turned it over, the bottle contained nothing of a label. Circular pills similarly-sized could be seen past through the hazy glass.

What is this?

Before he could muse for long, Arthur’s voice interrupted him.

“Commander, is something the matter?”

Hans put the bottle down and glanced at his subordinate.

“Nothing,” He cleared his mouth. “I understand. A person like you wouldn’t be entrusted by the warlord of that.”

“I apologize.” Arthur spoke with honesty.

“You don’t have to,” Hans dismissed. Strange pills. Could it be?

The origin of a superhuman’s birth—it was all but a mystery; a question he had long to ask, one that only the likes of Yunera could answer.

Clyde. Kimmy. Zimmer.

All gave him nothing but vague answers and more questions.

Shown the way, huh? Has humanity turned prophetic now?

“This room offers no more answers,” Hans spoke. “Follow me. Let’s talk with our beloved prisoners.”

Exiting the room, he stumbled upon the bustling activity inside the fortress.

The soldiers moved, bringing haul into the Warlord’s room. The civilians stepped aside, curious of their actions.

On the sides, Tomasz talked with what looked to be one of his kind. Their conversation was a mix of hostility and friendliness, one too familiar to Hans.

He left in silence, afraid to be entangled in the world of engineering and technicalities.

As he made way to the prisoner’s den—

The cold, damp steel hovered in front of Yunera’s eyes. Her focus wavered, breathing shallowly while her world spun into uncertainty.

She let out a cough, pushing her body forward. Yet the arms bound by chains held her back; the numbing sensation on her legs dragging her mind back into the bleak reality.

“What’s up, Yunera?” a familiar, mocking tone was directed to her.

Her eyes shifted into clarity, recalling that hateful figure in her mind. “Zimmer!”

“You still remember me?!” Zimmer cackled.

“Zimmer?” Yunera cautioned. “Where are we? What’s happening?”

The chains clanked as she yanked her arms over.

“Down here,” Zimmer shook his head. “Shackled like dogs in a dump. Don’t even try it.”

Just as their conversation ended, several footsteps thudded outside. The rusty jail door creaked loudly into their ears, making the five prisoners flinch in place.

“They’re placed here, Commander.” the jail guard spoke.

The prisoners looked over.

Zimmer’s pupils dilated, recalling the sight of that hateful man. He gritted his teeth and snapped his neck low—not daring to meet him in the eye.

Yunera straightened her back, finding the man wearing a darker combat uniform devious from the ambient disguise.

The leading officer stepped inside, stopping at the second cell.

“We start with you.”

The man raised his head and snorted.

“You won’t get anything from me.”

Hans gazed down, This guy will not talk easily.

“Amusing,” he grinned. “I heard you yelled like a pig begging for mercy in the ambush?”

Facing the prisoner, he squatted and stared straight.

“You’re not in the position to shut your mouth. Either you’ll start talking or my subordinate will force you to.”

“I’ll ask you one time.” he said. “How did the warlord gain his superpower, and how did he manage to pass it on to you?”

Kimmy’s revelations have shown Hans the path to becoming a superhuman. Although the system badly rejected the notion due to its existence being bound to him, he still wanted to understand the precursor of it all.

“Why?!” The man shouted. “You want to be one of us? Go ask the warlord in hell!”

“Shoot him.” Hans pointed. “On that arm.”

“No!”

The man flailed around, desperately watching as the conscript drew their gun and aimed. The gunshot rang, followed by a squeal no different from a pig.

“Ahhhhh!!!”

His fingers crooked and bent in angles he couldn’t fathom to do. Grunts went off his mouth, the glares persisting—directed at Hans.

“Wait.”

A female voice sounded. Hans and the rest turned over.

“I can tell you,” She added. “Set me free, and I will tell you.”

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