"I have a message for General Yon," Elion said, casting a menacing glance at the other two men in the tent.
"You two, out," the general ordered. "We'll resume this meeting once the matter is settled."
"Sir." They saluted and left without hesitation.
Once the flap shut, Yon turned his steely glare toward Elion. He stood tall—taller than expected—forcing the young cook to crane his neck just to meet his eyes.
"Who are you?" he asked, his voice quiet but soaked in threat.
Elion could feel it. The sheer power radiating from the old man. He didn't need his ability to sense that Yon was a dangerous opponent—someone he probably couldn't beat in a fight. Not on the first try at least.
"As I said, I'm a herald of the Sun," the young Unlocked replied with a fake grin.
"Cut the act. No herald of the Sun would present himself like this." Yon's posture was still, but his presence crackled with intensity.
Elion stared, then let out a stifled laugh.
Shit, now's not the time to be smug.
But the seriousness of the old man was just… too much. It made Elion want to break something—preferably expectations.
"I'm just your friendly neighborhood psycho," he said with a mischievous smirk.
Goddammit! You've done it now. Nice job Elion.
Yon's face darkened with irritation.
"I don't know what game you think you're playing, but now is not the time. Or the place." He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing with lethal intent. "Choose your next words carefully. Who are you—and why are you here?"
Well, might as well go all in at this point.
"I'm a time traveler," Elion said evenly. "And I've come to save everyone in this camp."
Yon blinked, his fist clenching. He was clearly at his nerve's end.
Still, none of the words he said were a lie; it was just that the truth was too outlandish to believe.
"You seriously expect me to believe that?" the general asked with a sigh of disbelief.
Elion flopped dramatically onto a nearby chair.
"Of course not. I'm not exactly known for my honesty. But let's be real—your situation sucks, doesn't it?"
Yon said nothing.
"Touché," Elion muttered. "I have a way to fix it."
"And why should I trust you? No, better question—why shouldn't I kill you right now for wasting my time?"
"You think you can kill me?" he scoffed. "I beat one of the High Lord's clones to make it here. Something you've apparently failed to do, given your situation."
Total bluff—but it made sense to the uniformed.
The old man's brow furrowed.
"What's your real goal?"
"Weren't you listening? I want to help."
Yon didn't look convinced.
"Fine, I'll get to the point." Elion stood and approached the general, lowering his voice. "Call off the reinforcements. Pull back your forces."
"So that's what this is about." Yon's voice turned cold. "You want us to retreat?"
"Exactly."
"We can't. Even if we wanted to. And besides, that's not the point." The general's face twisted with fury. "You clearly don't understand what it means to carry the honor of the Order of the Sun. We do not retreat."
Ugh. Another 'for honor' guy. My favorite.
Elion took on a displeased expression. It's not like it wasn't to be expected, Keill had tried hard to convince the old man to retreat, but she had failed every time.
He slung an arm over Yon's shoulder like an old friend. The general reacted instantly, reaching for his knife—but the young cook was faster.
"Careful now," Elion warned, twisting Yon's wrist just enough to stop him. "Wouldn't want this to get ugly, would you?"
The old man had trouble moving his wrist, something he clearly rarely faced.
"You're… an Unlocked," he muttered.
So the concept exists here too. It existed all the way back in the Third Age?
No markings on Yon's index fingers though. Maybe no Voice of God?
"What I am isn't important." Elion gestured grandly at the tent around them like a sleazy salesman. "Listen, the requiem," he whispered, repeating the last word like an echo.
"I hear nothing."
"Oh, but you will," the young Unlocked said. "Your men will all die. You're a rational man, General Yon. Surely you don't want your soldiers to be butchered senselessly when the High Lord makes her move?"
Elion leaned back, dropped to the floor, and propped his head up with his hands—relaxed as if sunbathing.
"I've seen it happen," he said calmly. "Over and over. Everyone here—dead. Dwellers of the Depths, slaughtering everything that breathes. And never—not once—have your reinforcements arrived in time."
Yon had grabbed the combat knife in his hand, but he did not use it… at least not yet.
"Did the God of Memories and Time put you up to this?" he asked, distaste curling in his voice.
"Well… he's involved. But I'm a solo act, really." Elion sat up, brushing invisible dust off his shoulder. "I don't work well under authority."
A long, tense silence stretched, drowning the room.
"So," Elion said at last. "What will it be? We're short on time. If we don't act now, the Dwellers of the Depths will hit us in full force. And even I, despite all my might, can't save everyone from that."
"…Seriously?" Yon muttered. "You expect me to risk this entire operation because a lunatic so-called time traveler who barely speaks our language wandered into camp?"
"I know, right?" Elion chuckled. "It is ridiculous."
He stood up.
"But I've got proof."
The old man raised a skeptical eyebrow.
"In twelve hours, check your surveillance systems. You'll see something… unexpected."
"And what's that?"
"The Earth God's secret base will come under attack. The High Lord will abandon her position to defend it."
Yon scoffed.
"Nonsense. No one should know about that base. And it would take a full army to bring it down."
"You know what's better than an army?" Elion asked, smirking.
The general rolled his eyes.
"What?"
"More time travelers of course!"
Yon muttered something under his breath. The young Unlocked caught only the word 'imbecile.'
"Well, I'll be off then. Back in twelve hours!" Elion said, heading for the exit.
"Not so fast," Yon growled. "Who said you could leave? This camp is classified. Unless you prove that ridiculous story, you're not going anywhere."
The old man grabbed Elion's shoulder with vice-like force. It felt like his bones would snap, but he kept his face calm.
"Fine," Elion said. "But no tying me up. I've had a bad experience with that recently."
"You don't get to make demands."
And so, Elion found himself tied to a chair, again. In the dark, again.
Hopefully not like last time. He was rather keen on not repeating this peculiar experience.
"Psst. Hey, you!" he whispered to the young man standing guard.
The soldier didn't even look at him, taking his job too seriously.
"What, too good to talk to me?" Elion asked, feigning offense. "What's your name?"
No answer.
"Alright. I'm calling you…" he squinted.
The soldier looked quite young, with a scar on the side of his mouth and one blind eye. Clearly been hit by an explosion of some sort in the past. His expression was completely serious, no hint of humor on his face.
It somehow reminded Elion of how he was before. Cold and serious.
I knew I didn't change fully for the worse, this dude is a total killjoy!
"You look like a 'Gelato.' Cold stare and all."
Still no reaction.
"Fine, Gelato it is. I can tell—we're going to be great friends."
Hours passed.
"…And that's how I rescued an eccentric sorcerer from a deep well. Wild adventure!"
The young soldier was still there, but now, Elion saw that he was heavily annoyed and on the verge of beating him up.
"You know," he continued, "that's what I like about humans. When the Dwellers of the Depths captured me, they tortured me for four days. You, on the other hand? You're just quietly falling in love with me."
Another hour ticked by.
"So, Gelato—how's the wife and kids? Life treating you well?"
The chair tipped because of Elion's bored swaying. He face-planted on the ground.
Ouch.
"Hey, Gelato! Can you help me up? I think I'm bleeding. Is it bad? On my forehead?"
The soldier finally glanced at him.
Yes! Progress towards the greatest friendship the world has ever seen!
The man just gave a sly smirk, clearly happy to see his torturer squirming, trying to get upright. He didn't move, didn't come to help him up.
"You bastard…"
Elion glared.
"Don't ignore me, Gelato. I will bite you if you don't stand me up!"
He squirmed toward him, inch by inch.
Gelato finally stepped forward.
Nice! He's going to help me up—I knew he wasn't that heartless!
The young soldier kicked him to the face, sending Elion tumbling back with his chair.
"ASSHOLE!" Elion shouted.
The strike wasn't too painful, Gelato had held back since he couldn't kill the prisoner, but it still hurt… and was humiliating.
"I thought we were friends…" Elion looked like a sad puppy.
Time dragged on.
"Did they have gelatos in the Third Age?"
"How long have I been here?"
"You ever try a backflip during battle? I sure did! Multiple times!"
Still no response.
But Gelato looked like he was on the verge of ripping his own hair out, much to Elion's delight.
"Don't worry, Gelato. No matter what happens—I'll never let you die. Even if I have to fight the moooooon for you!"
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, someone entered the tent.
General Yon, followed by a stern-looking officer. The old man took one look at Elion sprawled on the floor, a bruise on his face, and sighed.
"…Why is the prisoner on the ground?"
Gelato looked away, embarrassed.
"He… fell, sir," he said, trying to muster the respect his commander deserved, but failing due to Elion's technique of fraying his target's sanity little by little.
The old man's eye twitched.
"No matter. Untie him." Yon ordered, much to the young soldier's dismay.
"But sir, he's dangerous—" Gelato protested.
The general sighed.
"I know. But he was right…"