Werthine gripped the paper with shaky hands as he read. The casualties were massive. It would have been an unmitigated disaster if not for the greenskin's losing their nerve and retreating. His assistant seems to believe that it was some kind of miracle, but he knew better.

He looked down with cold eyes at the report sent by professor Writhe. Due to him being preoccupied, he could not witness the boy's strength. What he read was nothing but begrudging praise from the teacher, which allowed Werthine to relax slightly.

Tarphus was taken to the healing ward. He and those who survived were given the best treatment possible. But, he grimaced as he saw the paintings of the Tech-Priest, it had its pelvis crushed and leg shattered.

Werthine was glad that he was allowed to use the advanced potions to heal the wounds and, with them, graft the limbs of Tarphus and the soldier Ari back to their bodies. Though the Heavy Weapons team was wiped out completely.

Werthine did not know them. However, he respected them for saving his town, for if Tarphus had not been on that hill, the greenskins would have had easy access to the gates of his little village. In addition, he would be able to see the wreckage of what the greenskins did in their wake as they fled, leaving the slaves behind.

He wrinkled his nose at the thought of those very same slaves. They were wounded and sick. Their bodies are weak with malnutrition, and the clerics deem them to be a lost cause. However, they would try, Werthine had ordered it, and they would obey, for they had to.

He noted that the "healer" from Tarphus's group ran over and started helping with the injured, others mocked him, but out of pity, he was given some people to heal. Surprisingly, the healer stabilized anyone given to him and quickly moved from one person to the next.

Werthine looked over to the students laughing and cheering about how they won. Even that boy Christapher was celebrated as a hero. This was true to an extent, as he constructed many of the defenses that saved many students and mercenaries.

Though that is not to say that there weren't others hailed as heroes in the student's camp, one being Tarphus's friend Dimitir. He held the line on the flank with only his party to assist for the entire day, which for a youngster was truly impressive.

However, many were wounded despite the students' actions and the brave mercenaries that often saved them. So much so that the clerics were too busy to even try and stop anyone. That was rendering aid to the injured; they could not deal with those taking potions to other patients. The mana burnout was horrible for the clerics.

The clerics with grim faces would set aside the severely injured as they had no way to heal them. Some wanted to kill them quickly, but others wanted to read them their last rights and offer them the chance to give their party or descendants a will.

The 'medic' would shout at them for being "wasteful" and use his "medicine" on the injured. He was rebuffed several times before getting a few who wanted to live despite the foe healing them.

Though something strange happened with the severely wounded under his care, they stabilized after several days. This allowed magic to be cast on them without the wounds taking too much of their energy. Thus giving the clerics the ability to bring them to complete health.

Werthine granted some of the freed slaves into the boy's Warband to repay him for his bravery and to allow him to finally get the Warband status within the Mercenary guild. Out of the hundreds of slaves, he routed thirty to the boy. He needed people to repair his equipment, carry ammo, and so on, hence the number.

Werthine was grateful that the Mercenary Guild had the "keep what you kill clause" in the main Book of Mercenary Laws. He chuckled at the thought that others would deny a mercenary their spoils. Kingdoms have fallen by a mere copper coin.

Two days before the boy woke up, he was confused and lost. He remembered everything but wondered where his hand came from. Werthine recalled sitting beside the boy as he lay there. The bed was pure white, and he could see the boy's injuries. There were many, but one stood out to Werthine.

There was a ring around where his arm connected to his shoulder, a visible scar that brought shame to Werthine. It showed everyone that he could not protect his battle brother's sire. It crushed his soul every time his eyes saw it.

…

The woods sprang to life with maniacal laughter as a thin and long figure was chortling with mirth over the death and destruction left in the wake of its prior performance. "The master was right! It is so much more amusing when we are not the ones who are forced to dance!"

The creature's device allowed it to flash vibrantly with many different colors, which contrasted directly compared to the dour and dark trees of the forest. It did not fear the wood elves as they knew better than to enrage it, but the sheer joy of the clown made all who heard it nervous.

It then felt the call from its master, the master was pleased, and warmth spread throughout its body as its master rewarded it on its work, which allowed it to giddily chuckle, revealing his utter mirth. Then it heard the slow melodic tone that echoed in its head.

"The brat was not killed, the town was not overrun, yet the boy was tested, and he barely won. You have impressed me with your guile and wit. The boy will die soon if his strength is this limited. Come home, and a reward shall be granted."

The creature smiled calmly after the voice of its master finished its diatribe. It did not care that its master held the beast with a tight leash as the master would allow it and its siblings to have such fun.

The creature smiled cruelly at the thought of a reward, and it licked its lips. The beast stood up, its every movement causing light to blossom brighter than before. The creature became a kaleidoscope of sparkling light as it raced off and out of sight.

…

When Tarphus awoke, he felt a cold sweat on his back. He remembered the screams of his troops. Tarphus felt the pain that flared where his arm was supposed to be. He remembered the fear of death as he was choked. 

Again he was choked by a filthy orc, with that horrible sneer as it killed his friends, his troops. He felt his heart race in utter rage as he clenched his fists, the anger that burned within him. Tarphus felt the shame as he had lost those brave yet foolish soldiers. He felt guilty that he had lived when they did not.

His hands started to shake as horror and grief were over him like a wave. He shuddered as tears rolled down his face as he relived every second of that hell. Tarphus wished he was still in that damn challenge so that he could respawn… what if he could respawn right now, for why should he live where his troops did not.

Tarphus's hands shook as he remembered the orcs of the challenge; they were strong, they were so strong. Tarphus could feel his hand tremble as he recalled that hell, but he was able to defeat the orcs with his own blade one on one up close and personal.

He felt fear again, the orc warboss that challenged him at the end of the trial did terrify him at first, but due to him being able to respawn, it became a farce to him. That thing made him feel the utter terror that the war boss could only instill with his first appearance.

It shattered him to think that such an existence as the orc that he and his men fought might be on the same level as those in the other world. He looked down at his shaking hand with utter defeat. He had shamed himself and those around him.

Tarphus then summoned his auto pistol, he took the magazine out of it, and he glared coldly at the ammo with a firm and steely gaze. He felt the weapon's weight and its ammunition. Tarphus then looked down at the gun in his hands as it shined with the possibility for him to… 

It was then that he remembered the words of his father:

"Did you think that I never lost someone? Did you think for one second that I could save everyone, that my mere presence ensured that my soldiers live? No, the world is cruel. We live and die every day, but what we do with that sort of life counts. Would they want you to commit suicide? Really?"

Tarphus snarled with rage as he unsummoned his auto pistol, and he started to cry as his mortality came crawling back into his mind. He did not know what to do, how would he face his troops now since he did not die where the heavy weapons team did.

He then heard voices from the closed door. It was muffled but swiftly became louder and louder until he could actually listen to what they were saying. "He is my Nephew you sow I will see him, it does not matter if it is not 'proper' I am the guild master make it proper!"

Then a shrill voice roars, "If my father hears that you favor a Federation dolt, then your fund-" The door opens to reveal Werthine and his assistant. The former promptly ignores the latter as he looks at the boy with sheer joy in his eyes.

"Tarphus! I had seen and read the reports on how you held the line even when the odds were stacked against you. You have made me proud." Tarphus felt both joy and guilt as he heard his uncle, the down caste look he gave to Werthine made his features firm in determination.

"Boy, did you know that Cullivan was like you when he launched his first attack?" Tarphus shook his head. He did not hear much about his father's first attacks against the Federation. Tarphus was always told that he would learn in due time, but he never got the chance to ask before he was forced to leave.

Tarphus then listened in shock over how his father lost half of his men in an ambush in his first engagement. He cried over his men's deaths, and he also started training a lot more to not make that same mistake again.

When he heard this, the entire speech that his father gave him made much more sense but also held such strong emotions and memories. Tarphus was saddened by the state of affairs he left his father with, as it was Tarphus's job to help his father with the citizens.

The Werthine frowned at Tarphus, "Enough with the pity party boy, you still have a job to do, don't you dare forget your troops, as they are waiting on you!" Werthine grabbed Tarphus and started to carry him out of the room.

Tarphus felt the wind brush his undercarriage and cried for him to stop as he did not want to embarrass himself. However, his complaints fell upon deaf ears as Werthine merely chuckled with the reply, "Shame and humiliation are only in mind, boy, besides you have nothing worthy of hiding."

This hit Tarphus hard, hard enough that he stopped struggling as embarrassment overcame him. The clerics shouted with voices of dismay as Tarphus was flashed many times to the healers around him.

Tears started to appear on his face as he silently endured the humiliation as he was carried to his team. He noticed that they were outside the town's walls in tents helping the freed slaves when he arrived.

Many but the clerics were too busy with the mercenaries and students to help the goblin slaves. Tarphus noted how they were bandaged. It was impressive to see that many people were being treated at once. 

There were commoners from the town that would help, and this made Tarphus smile, however. Nevertheless, the brunt of this task was placed on the shoulders of his troops. Tarphus was then put down by Werthine, who promptly turned around saying. "I still have other mercenaries to look after. Talk with your men; I will see you soon."

Werthine looked like he would say something before turning around, thinking that the boy needed to grow. Tarphus was required to learn how to deal with loss as Werthine knew that Tarphus would be forced into many conflicts in the future.

Tarphus dusted himself off before looking around, his face burning as his behind was touched by the breeze. He sighed and noticed that many people were either looking at him incredulously or looking away in embarrassment. 

He tried to keep a straight face as he entered an empty tent to change, it took a few attempts, and he was laughed at by some of his troops. However, eventually, he was able to find a place to change.

Tarphus knew that he would never be able to live this down, but he did not care. In fact, he smiled despite himself. They were laughing even though they had lost their friends. He would have to talk with them later, but not now. For now, he would help the injured.

…

When Tarphus finished with the last patient, he felt a gaze latched to his back as he helped the injured into the nearest tent. He noticed Gudo with a solemn expression on his face, Tarphus waved him forward, and Gudo walked towards him.

The two stood a mere two meters away from each other. Gudo squared his shoulder and set his jaw. Tarphus reciprocated as he looked him in the eye. Neither spoke for minutes Gudo looked directly at his commanding officer with both dark eyes as Tarphus simply glared back, daring him to make a move.

What caught Tarphus off guard was when Gudo saluted him, then proclaimed, "Sir, forgive me for what I did. I know that I deserve only to be executed, but I… I ju-" Tarphus shook his head with fury radiating from him. He spoke with rage.

"I know why you did that, and you now know to never do it again; otherwise, I will skip straight to executing you and destroying your remains so that you will never meet the Emperor and never see Ari again, even in the afterlife. Understood?"

Tarphus could see the pure fear on Gudo's face, this brought no joy to Tarphus, but he needed his troops to follow his orders. Only when they did that he could help them defeat the enemy before they could be slain.

Tarphus then nodded, dismissing the man with a stern look on his face. Gudo left with his head down as the weight of what he had done fully encompassed him. Tarphus knew that the troops needed both time and security to heal the wounds inflicted by that damn orc. He will ensure that they get both.

Tarphus sighed as he walked towards the tent that held the Tech-Priest and stopped just outside it, taking a deep breath to help center himself. He entered with a smile to see the Tech-Priest standing with its strange cables wrapped around a weapon trying to fix it.

It was impressive to Tarphus as it spoke in another language that Tarphus did not understand. Finally, the Tech-Priest stopped and said in that low mechanical tone. "Greetings, squad captain, this one is currently repairing the equipment of the fallen… It is strange; this one did not like how boisterous they were."

The pause was rife with sorrow, "This one does not know what to do about their… absence, it is strange as this one knows they are now with their Emperor, but… It is harder to return to the silence than this one thought."

Tarphus nodded. He felt the same way, though they were only there briefly; he felt their loss; he walked up to the Tech-Priest and put a hand on its shoulder. He then spoke to his friend, "Do you have emotion limiters?" it nodded, "They are at maximum, and yet, this one still…."

Tarphus nodded and smiled, "Turn them off; we have a few days of R&R; I will be here; however, you are still human. Therefore you must return to that which makes you human." It nodded and looked off in the distance before it started to cry. Tarphus held its shoulder as tears poured down its face.

The two stood there solemnly; Tarphus stood by its side, giving it an anchor. The two discussed the team that they lost. The Tech-Priest was trying to organize its feelings due to the emotion dampeners being removed.

Tarphus then left he needed rest and to check out his status:

Greetings user, due to you thwarting the enemies of mankind, you have gained an award from the Emperor. You can now have a complete heavy weapons team (six guardsmen) and be given the ability to arm them as such (a total of two heavy weapons). Thus, to serve the Emperor and get rewarded for your loyalty.

Race: Human Class: Summoner

Stars: 3

Status: Yellow

Familiar: Utility Servo Skull

Summons: Unlocked*

Items: Unlocked*

Challenge: The time until the next challenge is 6 days

Upgrades: Unlocked

He was curious about the summons tab as per the upgrade.

Summons:

1 squad of imperial guard recruits, having been taken from the Planetary Defense Force of a random planet, these 10 grunts are still considered raw recruits for the forces of man.

1 medic, 9 guardsmen

Detachment: Heavy Weapon team (three guardsmen per weapon.)

Retinue: An Acolyte of the Mechanicus

Land Vehicles: locked complete more challenges

Air Vehicles: Locked complete more challenges

*Anyone under your command killed will be replaced in 24 hours with all of their gear and equipment.

Items that can be summoned:

Two heavy weapons: 

Shody Flammer with five tanks of promethium

Poor Heavy Autogun with seven magazines of armor-piercing Autogun ammunition*

Crude Rocket Launcher with ten rockets

Ammunition will be refreshed every twelve hours.

The words "Anyone who has been killed will be replaced." dashed any and all hope that Tarphus had for them to be summoned again. He called the Heavy Weapons Team again and chose the Heavy auto gun for the second weapon. As he still had the first here, he did not want to unsummon them.

None of the six men and women that stepped forward held any resemblance to those he fought alongside. They stood there at attention, simply staring at Tarphus, who was in his uniform. He saluted them and told them what the current situation was. They nodded and attended to the duties that were required of them.

…

A slim, middle-aged man stood with an impeccable tuxedo, though as he moved, it seemed as if a very light and almost translucent film covered his every step. He gazed out of the large window he stood before, which overlooked the trade hub of Chi-Town.

He smiled as he saw the hovercraft in the air. It brought him so much joy to see his citizens thrive. One hovercar got struck by lightning. He chuckled to himself at the foolishness of nature as the car absorbed the electricity and used it as fuel.

He was interrupted from his thoughts as a man coughed into his fist, "Mr. Prosek, I have everything that needs your authorization." Mr. Prosek looked at the man with a warm smile as he gestured for him to sit.

"My friend, please relax and have a drink. The drinks are fresh from the Lone Star State." The attendant nodded and sat grasping one of the glasses with a smile on his face. Then, a small hole opened in the table where the bottle popped out.

He grabs it and pours the bottle into two glasses. The green viscous liquid smelled of limes and tequila. The two smiled at that, Prosek spoke. "I remember when we went down there and helped arm those poor sods against the bugs, wasn't that where I met you?"

The attendant smiled as he nodded, "Yes, sir, you helped me settle my debts." Prosek nodded and responded. "Of course, we humans need to help each other." The attendant chuckled as his face turned solemn.

Prosek turned from the skyline to sit across from his attendant, "What is with that face, William?" This caused William to look up from the files in his hand; he shuffled awkwardly as he tried to find the words that would help him.

"Mr. Prosek, your wife had another mental break…." Prosek did not move. His smile was still on his face, but the one thing that changed was his eyes. They became cold and analytical. William continued, "She almost killed your son crying about wolves."

Prosek's smile slowly turned into a frown, and William felt a cold sweat break as he looked into the eyes of his friend. William tried to speak again but found he could not manage even a simple whisper as he stared into the abyss.

Prosek sighed and blinked, causing William to break his gaze. William felt his throat was dry as if he walked through the desert while reciting a dictionary. He grabbed the drink and quenched his thirst and continued, "The Lupine "wants" more supplies and the message they left a… bloody message if they are further denied."

Prosek nodded as he stood up, the drink in his hand as he strode to the window again with rage on his face. "Cut all aid to those wolves, deploy the Psi Stalkers and their hounds, find them and cull them."

William nodded as Prosek continued, "Find their enemies and give aid to them by local means, no weapons or equipment, food and medical supplies that they need." William wrote everything down then stopped asking. "What about the Acorn Press?"

Prosek looked down at the city that sprawled out before him, "Tell them that it is some form of humanitarian aid, something to give the people a boost to morale after the Rend." William nodded, and he remembered the Rend. It was caused by the Kingdom in their war; countless beasts and horrors flooded through the opened rifts.

Prosek was one of the top corporations in the Federation, and he gave himself the task of trying to close or defend the rifts near his civilians. 

William felt utter hatred towards the Kingdom as they would not allow anyone to close those rifts, not even the Empire would send aid, no matter the price they state.

William then looked at the glass, half full. "Sir, we have a report that the Kingdom has a mercenary band that uses Federation tech, an all-human band. Therefore, I would suggest to some of the higher-ups in the consul that we do a "cultural" exchange with the mercenary guilds."

This caused Prosek's eyebrow to raise, "Gather information on the human band if they are all human, send a letter of recognition to them, and try to get them under our sway. As for the cultural exchange, try with one or two groups at first to see how they adapt to this environment before we bring them into anything major." 

William recorded everything with a smile before bowing his head, "That is all, sir." Then, he was dismissed by Prosek. When Williams left, Prosek turned back towards his desk with a cold smile. "Those beasts deserve nothing but lead. After all, we did for them, if they want to act like beasts, then we shall treat them like beasts."