It had been three days since Rhok woke from his comatose state. Somehow, his aged body felt more invigorated than before. He was faster, stronger, and more flexible, even without the Armatus knight suit. More remarkably, his manhood had returned, all thanks to the wonders of Triss's Mythic Iasis.
Being held as a prisoner of war by Hasenwald, a small city under the reign of the Osten Empire, was not what Rhok had expected. Initially, he had braced himself for a harsh life — a slave collar around his neck, hard labour under the scorching sun. But he couldn't have been more wrong. Instead, he was assigned to the Burrowbane family, a sibling pair named Alric and Elfa, who lived in a small house on the outskirts of the city.
They ran a carrot farm and simply asked if he would help out around the house. Rhok was bewildered. "Why would they ask a slave to do work? Wouldn't they just order it?" He wondered.
Soon, he realised the slave circlet around his neck wasn't meant to enslave him or turn him into their dog. No, it was merely a precaution — ensuring that an enemy veteran like him wouldn't go berserk and unleash carnage on the innocent citizens.
Yet, Alric and Elfa treated him like family, as though he were an uncle visiting from a distant city. They shared meals, drinks, and hard labour with him, sweating side by side in the fields.
"Maybe... maybe this life isn't so bad," Rhok pondered as he lay beneath a large oak tree, hands tucked under his head. A cool breeze brushed against his skin, relaxing him. That 'what if' stirred in his mind, igniting possibilities he never imagined he could have.
What if he could live ? What if he could find peace? Who would have thought it might be in the land of the people he once despised?
War had turned him into a scornful man, breathing hatred like air, dehumanising the people of Osten. Yet, here they were — flesh and blood, good and bad, just like the people he had fought for.
"Rhok!" Elfa's excited voice rang out as she hobbled towards him, a basket in hand. The Wildren girl, with matching dark eyes and hair, wore dark jeans and a long-sleeved jacket. Despite being in her twenties, she was small, perhaps only 150 centimetres tall.
Rhok propped himself up and raised a hand. "Here, Elfa!" He called.
She turned, meeting his gaze with a bright smile, then settled beside him, tucking her legs beneath her.
"You must be thirsty!" She said cheerfully, revealing her oversized front teeth, which made her resemble an actual rabbit. She poured a drink into a cup and handed it to him.
Rhok raised an eyebrow but accepted the cup. "What's in it?" He asked, his voice hoarse.
"Try it!" she urged, eagerly awaiting his reaction.
He hesitated slightly before taking a sip. It was sweet, with an earthy undertone. "Carrot juice?" He guessed, grinning.
"Yes! What do you think? Maybe we could manufacture it and make loads of credits!" Elfa exclaimed, her voice brimming with energy. Rhok noted how young and full of drive she was.
"Ah... I think it's a bit too sweet," He replied bluntly.
"Ugh! Not cool. Maybe old people just don't like sweet things!" she retorted quickly before tapping her lips thoughtfully. "What if you saw it from a teen's perspective? What do you think then?"
"Then I'd say it's perfect and will make the Burrowbane family the richest rabbits in the world," Rhok exaggerated, his words playful.
"Yay!" Elfa bounced up and down happily, her excitement uncontainable. Rhok found himself grinning, caught up in her cheerfulness.
"Maybe their enthusiasm is rubbing off on me," He mused. Chapters first released on novel~fire~net
He stood and raised the cup high. "Well, Elfa Burrowbane, I raise this glass to celebrate your future success!" Then, he downed the entire cup in one swift gulp.
She watched him with upturned eyes, clasping her cheeks adoringly. "Thank you!"
In that moment, Rhok made his decision. He wanted to retire here, to abandon his title as an Armatus knight, and spend his days in the countryside, helping the young Wildren with their carrot farm.
If only the world had a place for a man like him.
Rhok stood frozen, his bare feet sinking into a pool of crimson. His face was twisted in agony. His jaw clenched, his chest hollowed, and his dark eyes lingered on the gruesome sight before him — the dismembered remains of the Burrowbane family.
Fate had played a cruel trick on him. No matter how much he wished it were a dream, the brutal truth lay before him. Alric and Elfa were dead, their bodies scattered across the floor.
From the scale of the destruction, he knew exactly what had caused it.
The very war machine he had mastered for over twenty years — the Armatus mobile suit.
"How could this be? Alric... Elfa..." Rhok found himself kneeling, his hands trembling as he clutched the warmth of their severed limbs. He had only gone to the river to refill the well, and when he heard the sudden explosion in the distance, he had rushed back, only to find half of the house reduced to rubble.
"AHHHH!" Rhok screamed, tears flooding his eyes. His dream, and theirs, had been crushed in an instant, obliterated by the cold, mechanical hand of an Armatus knight.
Ironic, considering he had done the same to a poor priest who was merely trying to protect his people.
A low humming noise reached his ears, sending a chill down his spine. Slowly, his dark eyes lifted to the sky.
A fleet of Armatus knights soared above, their thrusters leaving light trails in the air.
His gaze hardened, raw hatred burning within. His pupils darkened, almost glowing with fury.
"They call me a monster... They have no idea what true horror looks like. But. Soon. They. Will."
Without another thought, Rhok turned and ran, his unbooted feet pounding against the rough road. Rage and vengeance coursed through him, drowning out the pain and exhaustion.
His destination: Hoffmann Estate.