Chapter 1: Prologue

"Four from the north. " — I report on the radio, looking through the scope of the riffle at the opponents who jumped out from around the corner. I immediately open fire, cutting off 3-4 rounds each. The first burst bites into the head plate of the creature in front, leaving smoldering holes from armor-piercing incendiary ammunition, and she, as if knocked down, falls to the ground, by inertia doing a somersault and driving a couple of meters on the ground. The remaining three stop running strictly in a straight line, starting to maneuver, knocking down my sight, and most of the bullets fly past, knocking fountains of asphalt crumbs out of the road, and those that still hit either left smoking holes in the armor, or wounded limbs, which, however, did not even slow down the attackers. Nimble bastards, even for people like me, it's hard to hit them. But where one cannot cope, several will cope. A couple of seconds later, our position explodes with the fire of a dozen barrels, including two machine guns. Our enemies could no longer dodge bullets as well, which two  of them immediately proved by catching a lot of wounds and braking their muzzles on the asphalt. The last one was killed by someone generous with a grenade launcher, tearing it to pieces.

"Clear. " —  the nearest soldier reported.

"Then go." —  I gave the command and our small detachment begins to move.

Briefly about who we are: genetically and cybernetically improved combat units, and also grown in a test tube. Super soldiers are clones, in other words.

Once I lived the ordinary life of an ordinary man in the street. Well, that's what I remember for sure. Unfortunately, neither family nor friends have been preserved in memory. Or fortunately, it's still how to look at it. I don't think it would be pleasant for me to miss them. By the way, I don't remember the name either.

In general, there was once an ordinary guy, a student. Once upon a time, he died, having received a portion of electricity into his body, incompatible with life. Just like that — I ran home in a downpour, collecting puddles with my shoes, and take the power line wire, but break away from the wind and fall into these very puddles right under my feet. A flash, darkness, and that's it.

Then I woke up floating in a large capsule with a breathing mask on my face and all sorts of wires and hoses attached to the whole body. In the first seconds I thought I was catching glitches, because the picture opened up to my eyes very fantastic: to the left and right of me there were a row of the same tanks in which there were also people. The room where they were was filled with a bunch of devices, and people in white coats were walking around, accompanied by some important shit in military uniform and two soldiers in fancy ammunition. I didn't have time to really realize anything and get scared, as information began to flow into my head in jerks, causing a severe migraine. How to handle weapons, how to drive vehicles, starting from a bike, ending with a fighter, all sorts of tactical schemes and much more. There was also, let's say, an educational part. It contained a message that my brothers and I are the best warriors in the service of humanity, we were created to protect it and its last hope. And we will fight against the aliens.

And then there was a six-month training course, where my new colleagues and I mastered the knowledge put into our heads by scientists in practice. And we could do a lot. Half a ton to lift and run at a speed of 50 km/h is not the coolest thing, we were raised using technologies taken as trophies from aliens, and a lot of interesting things were included in the package of improvements. Improved muscles, strengthened bones, a heart that can beat and drive blood, even if half of it remains, nanorobots that allow our already extremely hardy organisms to endure even greater damage, and even recover from them, legs and arms, of course, did not grow back, but otherwise, it was very difficult to kill us difficult. In general, we turned out to be a kind of cross between the Spartans from Halo and clones from Star Wars. In addition to purely practical classes, we also had lectures, where we were told from those with whom we were going to fight. It all started with the fact that 6 years before our appearance, in 2051, one major and a dozen small portals opened on each continent, from which previously unknown creatures appeared into the light of day, who immediately began methodically cutting out all people who got in the way. They were a deeply cyborgized organosilicon life form and looked like armored mollusks of various shapes and sizes. They were later named that way, because of this similarity. Humans lost the first round outrageously. The suddenness of the strike and the technological superiority of the enemy affected. And then a long and difficult war went on. Humanity suffered terrible losses and constantly retreated, losing battle after battle. But, nevertheless, it was learning. The study of the remains of slain enemies allowed us to advance science for decades. Тew materials, energy sources, weapons, and, as the pinnacle of achievements, the creation of us — improved humans.

My new brethren were both the same and different at the same time. They were the same not only because everyone looked the same, including me, but also because, in fact, they were children. Yes, children. Dangerous, perfectly able to kill and not afraid to die themselves, but, nevertheless, I could clearly see with what force they absorbed the propaganda brought down on them by the instrumentalists, and I felt sorry for them. And then I decided that nothing terrible would happen if I try to make the life of these guys a little better, so that they would see at least something other than endless battles and breaks between them. It was not difficult to become the center of the company. My stories from the life of an ordinary person were no less interesting for the guys than what the teachers told us, and over time, I became the most authoritative guy in my group. Other clones respected and listened to my advice, especially since during combat exercises my life experience and ingenuity helped us to show the best results over and over again. The authorities noticed this and soon I was appointed commander of our group, which later, when we were released from training, turned into a platoon.

Three years have passed since then, and during that time we have turned into a real family for me, and  I have become something like a wise older brother who will help and advise in difficult times.

Right now we are performing another, and important task.

The ruins of Beijing are teeming with aliens and in order to knock them out, it is required to destroy air defense points before the attack. This will allow our aviation to properly fry the city, and after that it will be possible to launch troops there. There are eight such points in total and a group of clones has been allocated for each, one of which is mine. There are 13 people in total, including me. We completed the task — the clam cannon was disabled, but it didn't work out quietly after that. We were spotted and being chased on the way to the evacuation point.

We ran, stretched out in a chain, winding between the ruins of skyscrapers. And from behind you can hear the clucking and clicking of clams. They are not visible yet, but they are already very close, practically breathing in the back.

"Center, this is Fenrir Leader, target destroyed, requesting evacuation, we are being pursued, over." —  I said into the walkie-talkie built into my helmet as I run.

"Undrstood, Fenrir-leader, the transport will be in 15 minutes, indicate the position. — "They answered me from the other side.

"Accepted. Let them fly to the red smoke." —  having finished, I switch to the internal channel of the group. — "Okay, guys! A bird was sent for us. We occupy that building over there,"

I pointed with my hand towards a dilapidated two-storey house, judging by the shabby signboard, which was once a restaurant, "we throw smoke and wait!"

Guys silently carry out the order and, covering each other, approach the building in short dashes. We reached, took positions. A quick check showed that the building was clean and we, one by one, went inside.

"It's 13 minutes to the bird, we occupy a circular defense and sit. Archie!" —  I'm calling our sniper. — "Take the Weasel, Joe, and the Rusty One, blow up and blow smoke when the time comes."

"Yes, sir." —  Archie nods curtly and goes with the named guys to the stairs.

"Gray! Release all the frogs, they will be needed soon." —  Our bomber  is only glad of this. Silently, as he always does, he nodded and entered a couple of commands into the wrist computer. Several flat mines on four long and flexible legs jumped out of his backpack. Smart cars will find where to hide themselves, and at the right moment they will jump right at the enemy, firmly attached to him with their paws, and if they fail to catch on, they will explode right in the air.

"The rest! Don't be shy, get comfortable and wait for guests." —  I gave the last instructions and took up a position myself at the roughly boarded-up window. —  "They'll be here any minute."

The noise heard before somewhere on the verge of hearing became louder with every second, acting on nerves. We waited, peering into the ruins, until the enemies appeared. And so, three minutes later, the first mollusk soldier appeared around the corner, followed by another one, and then another and another. They were everywhere: crawling in a solid carpet on the ground, flashing in the windows of nearby buildings, on walls and on roofs. And there were many of them. No less than two hundred.

"Oh, Fuck!" — Someone gave an accurate assessment of the situation over the link.

"10 minutes, guys." —  I parry the remark with a confident voice, feeling fear inwardly. But i can't show it, the guys are also afraid, and I'm their commander, I have to set an example. I drive away the alarm and aim at the center of the frontal plate of the nearest enemy. The bastards know we're here. And they know that we are a very difficult prey, and therefore they turn around in a crowd of hundreds of meters, without shortening the distance, and new brothers arrive behind them. Their annoying chirping gets on our nerves. I checked my watch. Two minutes are already trampling, which means eight minutes left. We didn't shoot. There's nothing to provoke them.

Suddenly, for a moment, the mollusks quieted down, stopped making sounds and moving. There was silence, which in a second was replaced by a deafening roar of hundreds of throats.

— "Fire!"

Our position exploded with fire, sending bullets into the oncoming avalanche of biomechanical bodies. The return shots were not long in coming. Each mollusk has two pairs of upper limbs, the lower one for close combat with wide serrated blades an elbow long, and the upper one for long range with built-in needles, from which they are able to shoot very accurately right on the run. The deadly spikes were crushing concrete and bricks, turning wood into dust, but so far they could not get to the bodies of my guys. But it's only a matter of time, the closer the enemies come, the more our shelter becomes unusable. The distance was reduced to 50 meters and grenades were used: under-barrel and conventional, who had what. A series of explosions mowed down the front ranks of the enemy, bringing down the pace of the offensive and giving us time to prepare. But not for long: even before the dust cloud raised by the grenades had settled, new clams jumped out of it, firing at us from their cannons. A series of close hits near me smashed a wooden window sill and part of the wall, dousing me with concrete crumbs, forcing me to hide behind the remnants of the shelter. Remained intact, it seems. The armor suit is strong enough to ignore this. I checked the time — another five minutes. I looked around: three of us wounded. The clumsy guy got off with an easy hit in the arm, he didn't really notice it, but the other two guys got stronger. One has two spikes sticking out of the hips, the second has the same thing in the chest. The wounds are serious, but not fatal for us. Guys can survive if we can get to the base. Eddie, our medic, is working on them, which means they are in good hands. We need to slowly shift to the roof. It's getting hotter and hotter down there by the second.

"Look out!" — Someone shouted a second before an enemy missile flew into the wall. Two guys, next to whom the explosion occurred, reacted in time, jumping aside. That's just their bad luck. Another one flew into the resulting gap, ending their lives. An explosion went off somewhere outside, followed by several more — these were the frogs left by the bomber.

"Grab the wounded, and up, now!" —  I'm shouting over the link and I'm the first to pull the collar of a fighter with a shot leg. He manages to fire while I'm dragging him. Covering each other, we move closer to the stairs to the second floor. There is practically nothing left of the first one. The wall from which the mollusks were advancing ceased to exist. It's unclear how, but the ceiling withstood. The enemies are making their way inside after us, continuing the shelling.

I hand the wounded man over to the soldiers and stay to cover with two more guys at the stairs. A slightly wounded Clumsy and his best friend Glave is a lover of classical music and westerns. Despite the fact that there is dust and smoke around, I can clearly see how enemies are accumulating ahead. For this, I must say thank you to the implants that replace my eyes. About a year ago, we got into a mess that was not inferior in coolness to this one. That's when I lost my sight. But I was quickly given artificial eyes to replace the old ones. Their functionality completely repeated the capabilities of our helmet, thermal and infrared vision, HUD, and much more were now always with me. I got used to it for a long time, but in the end I was satisfied.

I take out a grenade and, after waiting two seconds, throw it into the passage so that it explodes immediately upon falling. This gives the result: minus two clams and a couple of seconds of respite for us. I raise my rifle and fire a long burst to make the enemy linger a little longer. I'm about to give the command to leave after the others, when suddenly I notice enemy silhouettes right below us.

They're in the basement! And the guys don't see them, because their sensors, unlike mine in the eyes, don't break through walls.

—  "Get out of there!"

Late. The clumsy man was standing with his feet right on the trapdoor to the basement. A sharp blow from below threw him up and slammed him into the ceiling, and when he began to fall back, he was immediately impaled on the blades of the creature that surfaced on us. The second one also demolished Glave with her body and a melee ensued between them. The third and last one jumped right at me. I dodge the swift blow of the blade and kick the clam away from me right into the wall. An ordinary person would only be able to push it away a little, but I threw it away so that the remnants of plaster fell off from the collision, and a decent dent was left on the wall. The disoriented freak falls to the floor and gets a turn from the rest of the magazine at close range. Bullets strike sparks, bouncing off his armor, but some of them still find a way between the plates, ending his existence. While I was messing with one, Glave had to fight with two at once. And he didn't let me down. Next to him are two dead mollusks, one of which has a high-frequency knife stuck in his head. However, the guy himself is in a very shitty state. The helmet is smashed, exposing a young, repeating my own face, covered with dust and blood. The right hand is not in place, the left one is clutching the open stomach. A riffle, cut in half, is lying nearby. I jerk to his aid, but flying spikes cut my way — the freaks outside don't waste time in vain. One hits my shoulder, causing me to hiss in pain and step back.

"Go... brother." —  Seeing what I want to do, Glave stops me. Eh, Glave... well, what the hell?! I close my eyes for a moment, then briefly nod to my brother, as a sign that I accept his choice and turn around to the stairs.

When I went upstairs, something exploded from below. Surely it was Glave who prepared a parting gift. I look around. The three hundredth are covered by a wall. Six more fighters are in the ranks. Oh, no, five already. The gawking Rusty caught a thorn with his head and fell on his back, arms outstretched. Archie did everything right, the red smoke is already rising up in a column, showing our location. There's a minute left on the timer. We just need to hold out, so half of the squad has already died, I don't want to lose someone else.

But the mollusks do not leave us a chance, we are surrounded from all sides and they are constantly firing at us. From the direction of the stairs, we can already hear the clatter of the freaks rising. Several more are already crawling along the outer walls.

Suddenly, a tiltrotor turned out from behind a high-rise. It has two dozen missiles fixed on its suspensions, which fired at once at the freaks surrounding us. The blow was strong: broken and burned carcasses of mollusks flew into the air, and the intensity of the shelling decreased sharply.

—  "Yoo-hoo!"

—  "There is!"

The guys were delighted and began to pick up the wounded, preparing for loading. Meanwhile, the pilot made a small circle around us, combing the area from the onboard cannon, and hovered directly above us. The side door opened and two stretchers came down to us on belts, on which the wounded were quickly laid and sent upstairs. Then it was the turn of healthy fighters who jumped up on their own and, clinging to the side, climbed inside. Jumping 2 meters up is not a problem for us, even in full gear. All my guys got inside, only my turn remained. I swing my arms and squat, ready to jump. One more second and we'll be out of here to rejoice that we survived and mourn our fallen brothers.

Unexpectedly, the active protection of the flyer worked. A special charge on the skin knocks out a cloud of fragments, into which a mollusk rocket crashes. The tiltrotor itself survived, but the shock wave threw it a dozen meters to the side, and knocked me off my feet. The pilot was only miraculously able to keep the device in balance without collapsing and crashing anywhere.

"Kay!!!" —  Archie yells at me. —  "Over here, quickly!"

I got up, ran briefly and jumped. It's a little short, but Archie has already extended his hand to me, which I'm going to grab. But I was prevented from doing this by two spikes that entered my back, and I flew past, fell from the height of the second floor to the ground. In flight, out of the corner of my eye, I notice how a shock flyer of mollusks appeared on the horizon, which means that our pilot needs to get out as soon as possible, or he is a corpse. He also understood this perfectly well, so he turned the car around and began to quickly gain speed, flying away towards our main forces.

Well, I... have to stay.

It hurts to breathe, and every breath gives off a gurgle of blood trapped in the lungs. My right leg also hurts, either dislocation or fracture, it's unclear now, and it doesn't give a fuck, in general. Somehow I get up, dragging my leg and look around. The black clams have already surrounded me from all sides. They flocked like flies to shit. There is no my riffle, I fucked it up on the roof, but the gun and the HF knife are still with me, which means I can dance a little more. I take out my weapon and take a fighting stance.

— "Well, bitches, c'mon!"

 

***

The mainland of Eostia. The lands of the Former Dark Elf Empire. The Dark Citadel.

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The Dark Citadel originated a hundred years ago, appearing in the desert right out of the ground. Being a concentration of huge amounts of magical energy, she became the interest of Olga from the Discordia Clan, a dark elf whose goal of her whole life was the welfare of her people. She dreamed, if not to return to the times of the former empire, then at least to make sure that her relatives did not have to hide from monsters and human slavers like rats, but to live a full life without fear of tomorrow. She managed to get into the Citadel first and gain control over it, and then subdue numerous tribes of monsters, limiting their destructive actions. But many did not like it, they obeyed her only out of fear of reprisals, secretly dreaming of revenge. And that day has come. Vult, the leader of the mercenary syndicate, who was hired by the ruler of humans and light elves to fight monsters and Olga herself, colluded with his enemies and those, instead of going into battle, took up arms against their ruler. As a result of a short battle, a small garrison of dark elves was killed, the queen, caught off guard, could not use her magic and was captured along with her assistant. It would seem that their fate is sealed, but it turned out not quite so. After all, no one knew what the Dark Citadel was really capable of.

 

ALARM! An intrusion has been recorded. The owner is in danger. Launching defensive systems...

…

…

ERROR! Defensive systems are not responding, a violation of the control circuit has been recorded. Autonomous combat platforms are malfunctioning. The force fields are faulty.

Finding a solution…

…

…

Found. The "GUARDIAN" protocol.

Assessment of energy reserves... satisfactory.

Recipient search... recipient found. Race: human. Biological age: 4 years... ATTENTION! Biological age does not correspond to the actual level of development. Analysis… Artificial interference with the gene code was recorded. Artificial augmentation of the body has been recorded.

Analysis... the intervention is regarded as positive.

Optimization... 10... 20... 64... 85... 100%. Improvements are optimized. Evaluation of efficiency gains: 281, 241243511%

The possibility to introduce a small AI assistant has been discovered. Done.

Start the process of recreating the physical body

…

Completed.

Start the process of transferring the spiritual body.

…

Completed.

The "GUARDIAN" protocol. Status: active.

 

***

A human body appeared in an unknown room near a stone staircase leading down somewhere. This action was accompanied by a flash of blue light, which dissipated without a trace after a few seconds. Nothing happened for a while, but suddenly, the chest of the prone man twitched, indicating the presence of breathing.

The Dark Citadel has made its move and now the history of this world will go completely differently.

 

***

 

To put it mildly, Olga Discordia was in a bad mood. Being chained to a wall in a dungeon of your own fortress is such a pleasure and does not add optimism at all. Nothing helped. Neither the loyal soldiers who were killed, caught by surprise, nor the magic that is blocked by the damn collar thrown in a dream, nor the the scepter which is now in the hands of the Vault and is also not available, nor the thousand—year life experience of the queen of the dark elves, nor even Chloe —  her most loyal and devoted supporter. She found her as a broken little girl 30 years ago. Chloe then did not react at all to the world around her, looking with a glass gaze at one point, but Olga managed to revive her and grow a strong warrior and a reliable friend.

The girl was head over heels in love with her savior, which she was well aware of. But Olga could not respond to her feelings — duty to her people is above all. And now she can't... she won't be able to anymore. It is not difficult to guess what awaits ahead of two beautiful woman who were captured by mercenaries not burdened with morality. It's not worth talking about monsters. The greasy looks of the three guards, two humans and one ogre, only confirm the disappointing conclusions. No matter how Olga tried to come up with a way out of such a sad situation, but she could not. There is no solution. There is only a terrible unknown ahead.

Voices were heard from the depths of the corridor. That's it? Have they come for them yet? Vault said that they wanted to give Chloe to the ogres... poor girl, she will return again to where Olga saved her from many years ago.

Found him on the stairs." — Said the mercenary who appeared from around the corner, who, together with a comrade, was dragging another person under his arms, who was out, in response to the interrogative glances of the guards. — "The boss said to throw him to the elves."

"He doesnt look familiar." — the warden drawled, rubbing his chin with his hand. — "His clothes are too strange.:

Olga took a closer look at the unconscious young man. Indeed, he was not dressed like mercenaries at all. To be honest, she had never seen such a costume at all. Wide trousers made of obviously strong material with knee pads of dark gray color, high boots without laces and a tight shirt without buttons, as if consisting of many small hexagons. Its sleeves turn into gloves with a seal on the knuckles. The face is young, quite beautiful for a human. Apparently, he really is not one of them, otherwise he would not have been dragged into the cell.

"Why didn't just cut his head?" — The second warden asked.

"He had a lot of interesting things with him. And it is unclear what it most of them. We could only recognize the knife and armor. They are very good, so Boss ordered to hold him here for now, he was interested." —  the porter replied.

"Yeah, you should have seen it." — his assistant supported him and grinned crookedly at the girls — "Boss even decided to wait with these two."

Soon, a new prisoner was added to the cell. The people who brought it left, and with them the guards, carried away by the conversation. An amazing irresponsibility, but, nevertheless, quite understandable. Even if you get out of the cell, what to do next? The whole citadel is crawling with these nobodies.

"Mistress..." —  Chloe called the former Queen. — "Do you have any idea who this person is?"

"I haven't the faintest idea." —  Olga answered honestly. A sad smile appeared on his face by itself. — "But is it really that important? By his appearance, he has already given us a short reprieve."

"Really ..." — the girl drooped, anticipating a repeat of the nightmare that she had already experienced once.

Hours dragged on. The guards have not returned, and the third prisoner of their cell has not yet recovered. The two dark elves were left to themselves, immersed in their own thoughts.

Suddenly, from the side of their involuntary neighbor, a stirring was heard. The elves synchronously turned their heads in that direction to see how a convulsion seized the man lying on the stone floor. A second, another, and his body bends in an arc, and a long, hoarse exhalation flies out of his head.

— Ha-a-a-a-a-a-a…

The eyes are wide open, and their pupil changes its size at high speed, then increasing, then decreasing. In their depths, it was also possible to notice the movement of some incomprehensible, similar to the details of mechanisms, objects. The man stopped shuddering and fell to the floor, his eyes stopped moving furiously, his gaze became meaningful, and his breathing became normal. He abruptly assumed a sitting position, and then began to examine and feel his body.

"Alive ..." — he said softly in a pleasant voice, having finished the examination. — "And not even wounded…"

Then he noticed the shackles on his hands, as well as the chain fastened between the ring in the wall and the collar around his neck.

"Wow... interesting." —  The man's eyes began to explore the camera. They lingered on the lock in the door, on the bars, ceiling and walls, and finally settled on the girls.

"Ummm..." — The young man was obviously surprised. — "Good evening?"

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