Chapter 8: The Super Soldier
The village of Greenhill had always been peaceful. Its fields stretched wide, the land fertile and untouched by war, and the people lived simple lives. For Remus, it was home. He was the eldest of three siblings, an eighteen-year-old who spent his days working the fields alongside his father. His brother, Edwin, dreamed of becoming a knight, though he was just ten, and his sister Marianne, at twelve, had a talent for painting wildflowers on the barn walls. Their parents, Jonathan and Elise, had always been pillars of strength, their love for their children visible in every word and gesture.
But peace was fragile.
The day began like any other, the sun rising over golden fields, but by noon, the sounds of war reached their ears. The distant rumble of marching boots grew louder until it swallowed the quiet. Elise ushered the children inside, her face pale as she whispered hurried prayers. Jonathan stood in the doorway, gripping an old spear with white knuckles.
"Stay quiet," he said to Remus. "Take your brother and sister to the woods if they get too close."
Remus nodded, his stomach twisting with fear he dared not show. He glanced at Edwin and Marianne, who clung to each other, wide-eyed. He wanted to tell them everything would be fine, but the words felt hollow.
The Germanican soldiers came without mercy. Their blades flashed in the sunlight, cutting down anyone who resisted. Fires roared through the village, smoke rising into the sky like a grim beacon. Remus held his siblings close, watching from the edge of the woods as chaos unfolded.
He couldn't see much at first, just shadows moving through the smoke. But then he heard it: his mother's scream, sharp and cut short. His father's voice followed, roaring in defiance, before falling silent.
"No," Remus whispered.
Marianne grabbed his arm. "Don't go," she pleaded, her voice trembling. But Edwin, ever stubborn, broke free of their grasp and ran toward the village.
"Edwin!"
Remus chased after him, Marianne close behind. They reached the square just in time to see their parents fall. Jonathan crumpled near the chapel steps, Elise beside him. The Germanicans moved on, their laughter ringing cruelly in the air.
Edwin froze, his small frame shaking. A soldier turned and saw him.
"No!" Remus shouted, lunging forward, but he was too late. The soldier's sword flashed, and Edwin fell. Marianne screamed, and another soldier silenced her with a single, brutal strike.
Remus hid then, instinct overriding grief. He pressed himself against the crumbling wall of a nearby house, his hands over his mouth to stifle his sobs. The soldiers passed by, leaving death in their wake, and when the village was silent again, he stepped into the square.
His family lay broken, their blood staining the cobblestones. Remus dropped to his knees beside them, his chest heaving as tears streamed down his face. He didn't know how long he stayed there, but by the time Englasian soldiers arrived, the sun was setting, casting long shadows over the ruins of Greenhill.
A man in a uniform approached him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You survived," the soldier said softly. "Come with us. We can give you a purpose."
Remus didn't reply. What purpose could there be now? But he had nowhere else to go, so he followed.
The next two years were a blur. Remus threw himself into training, channeling his grief into every swing of his blade. He fought like a man possessed, driven by the memory of his family's faces and the need to avenge them. The officers noticed his skill and his silence, the way he never wavered, even in the harshest drills.
One day, he was summoned to the commander's tent. The officer, a grizzled man with scars crisscrossing his face, regarded him carefully.
"You've heard of the meta-human program?" the commander asked.
Remus had. Rumors of soldiers enhanced with extraordinary abilities had spread through the ranks. Most spoke of it with awe; some with fear.
"It's experimental," the commander continued. "Not everyone survives the process. But for those who do, the rewards are... unmatched. You'd be stronger, faster, more resilient."
The words hung in the air. Remus thought of the Germanican soldiers, their cold efficiency, their merciless slaughter. He thought of Edwin and Marianne, their lifeless bodies in the village square.
"I'll do it," he said.
The commander raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure? There's no going back."
Remus met his gaze, his expression hard. "I'll do it."
The process began weeks later. Stripped of his armor and laid bare under harsh fluorescent lights, Remus felt more vulnerable than he ever had before. Scientists swarmed around him, muttering about cellular restructuring and neurological integration. He didn't understand any of it. He didn't care.
When the needles pierced his skin, the pain was immediate and all-consuming. It felt as though his body was being torn apart and rebuilt, molecule by molecule. He screamed until his throat was raw, but the machines didn't stop.
And then, everything went black.
The next battles were effortless for Remus. He moved through the fields like a whirlwind, defeating enemy soldiers in moments. His enhanced strength, speed, and precision made him unstoppable, a force that seemed almost beyond human. The soldiers of Germanica had little time to react before falling to his blade. Those who faced him described him as a ghostly figure, cold and relentless, embodying their worst fears in his unyielding assault.
His anger drove him. Every clash, every victory, was fueled by the memory of his family and the life stolen from him. His combat instincts were unmatched among the other test subjects, who struggled to adapt to their enhancements. Remus, however, thrived in the chaos. His reputation grew rapidly, his name becoming a symbol of strength among his allies and a harbinger of despair to his foes.
But beneath the surface, things were unraveling.
The experiments never stopped. After each mission, he was brought back to the laboratories for further testing. The scientists were relentless in their pursuit of improvement, subjecting him to treatments that pushed his abilities to new extremes. The process was grueling, but Remus endured it in silence, driven by his purpose.
At first, no one noticed the toll it was taking on him. His body grew stronger, faster, more efficient with every procedure, but his mind was not invulnerable. Nightmares began to plague him. Sleep became an unwelcome reminder of all he had endured, and the moments of quiet brought only unease.
Yet, in the eyes of the military, he was the perfect soldier. He delivered results, and that was all that mattered. No one questioned the shadows that had begun to haunt him, or the subtle changes in his demeanor. He was a tool, a weapon, and for now, he continued to function exactly as they intended.
Weekly Power Status
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Ranking 
-- Power
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