…

        After we had gone to the new manor that had been constructed since the old one had been obliterated, I told the new reigning German lord of this island the whole story. He had become very apologetic since the whole bloodlust thing. I then asked about the war and got a short answer.

          “it’s a tie”

          That made sense since the hero the French and enslaved was a chemist. With magic he could produce anything from smokeless gunpowder to plastic explosives. It was a miracle that the alliance of the English and Germans hadn’t died yet. From what the rest of the story sounded like the French hero had produces many different new and miracles concoctions like synthetic oil to many different plastics (like bakelight all my friends love bakelight.)

          “the hero that we summoned is living here so e can heal from being shot at by the new French flamethrowers,” said fancy man.

          Ah yes, French flamethrowers. Of course, they had literal fire power. Flamethrowers in this world would be much more effective than magic as anyone could use them. Just like how guns had made knights obsolete. He told us that the hero was in his room reading and resting. By the looks of it he was stressed, very much so.

          Fancy man gave me more info on the summoned hero. He was 12 years old and very strong. He had some strange traits one of the other heroes called turner said belonged to the Crinall. A super soldier race breed to kill outer space invaders. They were born stronger and faster than any normal human, they also were mush leaner and had denser bones than the normal man, and then at the age of 10 they were surgically altered to be even more powerful.

          This reminded me of the genetically engineered species of hominid that greater Albania made to push back the legion of many. (That whole thing is gonna need a whole book by itself to explain.)

          “Can you introduce me to him?” I asked.

          Fancy man looked at me with a confused look on his face. I didn’t know why. The confusion must have been evident because he said:

          “The boy looks uncanny. The top half of his face is metal, and he doesn’t have normal eyes, instead he has these things called cameras,” he explained, “he also has a metal skeleton on the outside of his body as well.”

          “Well could you still introduce me to him,” I asked pushing my question.

          “ok”

…

Gorn’s POV

          Gorn had 4 people running around in his head. But at the end of the day, he was Gorn. The soldier, the boy, the 12-year-old son of Gar, first of the 123RD armored infantry.

          Though sometimes Ornsin would pilot this vessel of the elder demigod. Gorn new nothing other than he was the strongest of his father’s children, though that made sense as he was the firstborn. Gorn new that it was his job to make sure this vessel didn’t die of some random thing like a chicken or an short little gray man. Though of cource he nothing else other than he was a role model for his siblings and he was supposed to make sure they didn’t make the same mistakes he did. Like calling a general private because he didn’t know that more shiny things on someone’s chest meant they were important. Of course, he knew nothing of politics, so Ornsin’s job was that.

          One day Gorn had tripped and when he looked back up again he was not back at his family’s private hospital. He was running after his new friend Kris. She was one of the Xenos that wasn’t out to kill and enslave humanity. She was a snake lady that gave him hugs and kissed his scrapes when his mother would only say “WHAT ARE YOU A MAN OR A XENO”, so he liked her. So when he looked up to see her not there he was of course rather mad and asked where she was and where he was.

           Then they said he was in Germany but that made little sense. The land of people that had funny little mustaches was gone in the first wave. Then Ornsin told him that he had been kidnapped and it was his right as a human to escape and find help.

          So, he killed the old people that had taken him from his family, friends, and home. He ripped their heads off and bitten off their limbs, gutted them for taking him away from his future wife. He had decided that was what Kris was to him at that moment. Then he was put to sleep by a angry looking German man.

          That was a month ago and they had asked him to fight some racist looking French people. Since then, he had fought in 5 battles and killed 30,999 people. A lot to be sure but not as much as father. He missed father, mother, and Kris. Not his little sister and brothers. He wasn’t quite sure why?

          Right now, he was on an island Ornsin had been reading a book about taxes. Just then someone nocked on his door.