Chapitre 6: Chapter 6: unlocking past memories-part 1
The Scythian encampment bustled with the normal rhythms of life. Mercenaries sharpened their weapons, tending to their gear with practiced hands, while others lounged by the fire pits, sharing crude jokes and passing around flasks of what might have been wine. Hadrian sat cross-legged near the edge of the camp, his back resting against the cool bark of a tree. He wasn't part of their world—not yet, anyway.
His eyes drifted to the crude wooden sword resting at his side, the weapon a poor replacement for the blade he'd lost. He reached for it absentmindedly, his fingers tracing the splintered hilt as his thoughts turned inward.
The system's faint hum was ever-present in his mind, a ghostly awareness that flared to life without warning.
System Notification:
Threat Detected. Orc Warband Mobilizing 30 Kilometers South. Approximate Arrival: 18 Hours.
Hadrian stiffened, his heart racing. The words hung in his vision like a silent alarm, stark and unavoidable. His gaze swept the camp. The mercenaries were calm, relaxed. They had no idea.
'I need to tell the leader of the Scythians leader before its too late'
He clenched his jaw. They need to know.
Kazimir's tent was at the center of the camp, a sprawling structure of patched leather and fur. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of smoke and metal. A large map was spread across a wooden table, its edges weighed down by daggers and pieces of broken stone.
Hadrian stepped into the tent, the heavy flap falling shut behind him, muting the chaos of the camp outside. The first thing he noticed was an imposing man. The man stood like a monument at the center of the room, his presence as imposing as any fortress Hadrian had ever imagined. He was tall, his broad shoulders cloaked in fur that looked as though it had been torn from a wolf with his bare hands. His leather armor was worn but well-kept, each scratch and scar on it a testament to battles fought and survived.
Kazimir's face was sharp, angular, and deeply lined—not with age, but with a lifetime of hard decisions. His hair, dark as the storm clouds Hadrian remembered from old summers, was streaked with gray at the temples. His eyes, pale and unflinching, seemed to strip away Hadrian's skin, searching for something deeper.
This man has seen more battles than I've seen days alive, Hadrian thought, his stomach twisting. There was no warmth in Kazimir's gaze, only a cold, calculating assessment.
Despite himself, Hadrian felt small—a boy standing before a man who could break him in a heartbeat. And yet, he clenched his fists. One day, I'll be someone even he has to listen to.
Kazimir stood at the table, his arms crossed as he listened to one of his lieutenants recount a skirmish from the week before. The mercenary leader's expression was calm, his sharp eyes betraying no emotion.
Hadrian hesitated at the entrance, his pulse hammering in his ears. He knew Kazimir wasn't a man to suffer interruptions lightly, but the warning in his head was too urgent to ignore.
"Speak," Kazimir said without looking up, his tone clipped.
Hadrian stepped inside, his fists clenched at his sides. "There's a warband coming," he said, his voice steady despite the tension coiling in his chest.
Kazimir finally looked up, his brow furrowing. "What are you talking about?"
"The orcs. They're mobilizing south of here. They'll be here by dawn."
The room fell silent. The lieutenants exchanged glances, their skepticism clear.
"And how exactly do you know this?" Kazimir asked, his tone laced with disbelief.
Hadrian hesitated. "I just do."
'I cant tell them about the system' thought Hadrian
Kazimir let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. "You 'just do.' Right. Well, unless you've suddenly become a seer, I suggest you leave the strategy to those of us who've been fighting longer than you've been alive."
"I'm telling you, they're coming!" Hadrian insisted, his voice rising. "You have to prepare!"
Kazimir's expression darkened, his gaze sharp as a dagger. "Listen to me, boy. You're twelve years old. You survived the pits, and that's something. But that doesn't make you a soldier, and it sure as hell doesn't make you a strategist. Now get out of my tent."
Hadrian opened his mouth to argue, but the words caught in his throat. The weight of Kazimir's stare pressed down on him, and he nodded stiffly before turning and leaving the tent.
Hadrian stormed back to his spot by the tree, his fists clenched so tightly his nails bit into his palms. The mercenaries didn't take him seriously. Of course they didn't. He was just a boy, a slave, a survivor by sheer luck.
But he wasn't wrong. He could feel it—the certainty in his chest, the system's unerring precision. The orcs were coming, and if the camp wasn't ready, they would all die.
"You alright?"
Hadrian looked up to see Skyles standing over him, his ever-present grin replaced by a look of concern.
"No," Hadrian snapped, his frustration bubbling over. "Kazimir doesn't believe me. None of them do."
Skyles raised an eyebrow, crouching down beside him. "Believe you about what?"
"The orcs," Hadrian said, his voice low but urgent. "There's a warband coming. I know it."
Skyles tilted his head, his expression thoughtful. "And how exactly do you know that?"
"I just do," Hadrian said, exasperated. "Does it matter?"
"Yeah, it kinda does," Skyles replied, a hint of amusement creeping into his tone. "People don't usually listen to kids who can't explain themselves. Crazy, I know."
Hadrian shot him a glare, but Skyles just chuckled.
"Look," Skyles said, his tone softening. "Kazimir's a hardass, but he's not stupid. If you're right, he'll figure it out soon enough. And if you're wrong... well, I guess we'll all have a nice, quiet night."
Hadrian didn't respond, his mind racing. I'm not wrong, he thought. I can't be.
The peace of the camp shattered an hour later when a scout stumbled into the clearing, his face pale and his breath ragged.
"Orcs!" he gasped, collapsing to his knees. "South of here. A warband. Hundreds of them."
Kazimir was on his feet in an instant, his expression grim. "How far?"
"Thirty kilometers, maybe less," the scout said, his voice shaking. "They're moving fast."
The camp erupted into a flurry of activity. Orders were shouted, weapons were distributed, and the air grew thick with tension. Hadrian watched from the sidelines, his chest tightening with a mix of vindication and dread.
Kazimir strode past him without a word, his lieutenants close behind. For a moment, Hadrian considered approaching him again, but the memory of their earlier conversation held him back.
Instead, he turned his focus inward, the system's interface flickering to life in his mind.
System Notification:
New Mission: Assist in the Defense of the Scythian Encampment
Reward: past world knowledge
The words glowed faintly, their meaning heavy with implication. Hadrian's breath hitched. past world knowledge. "I knew it I fucking knew it!" Skyles kind of just starred at Hadrian as if he lost his mind with that out burst "sorry" said Hadrian embarrassed 'That's the reasons all my memories are so fragmented, that's why I'm having flashes of huge technology that shouldn't even exist'-'no I'm still Hadrian, I even remember having a sister, I think she's in Athens though' Hadrian kicked a rock solemnly 'past world knowledge huh' he knew The phrase stirred something deep within hi..
'If I can remember' , he thought, his heart pounding. 'I could put humans back on top'
Hadrian stood at the edge of the camp, watching as the mercenaries prepared for battle. The forest loomed in the distance, its shadows deepening as the sun dipped lower in the sky.
Leon approached him, his expression tense. "What's the plan?" he asked.
Hadrian's jaw tightened. "I'm not sure yet. But we have to do something. We can't just let the orcs overrun us."
Leon nodded, his gaze drifting to the mercenaries bustling around them. "Do you think they'll listen to you?"
Hadrian hesitated. "They will," he said finally, though the certainty in his voice felt fragile. "They have to."
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État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone