"What the Obscuron wants to do isn’t sothing that’s not known," the battle commander said, his voice trembling, his words spilling out in a desperate rush. "I an, he plans to wipe out humanity. He wants to wipe out humanity on Mars! There you go, that’s it! That’s all I know! Really valuable information! Now don’t torture , just... just kill normally."
The man actually wanted to die at this point than continue to suffer at the hands of Tatehan.
Suffering was hell and Death was Heaven.
By the way he didn’t have much use for life anymore, life was aningless now. He had failed to do what he was sent to do and weakness was punished by the obscuron, so there was no future outside this walls.
Tatehan and Bjorn exchanged glances, their eyes eting for a brief mont before they both looked back at the man sitting naked and broken in the chair. The pathetic sight of him: bleeding, trembling, his scalp raw and his face streaked with tears, would have been almost pitiful if not for the fact that he had been complicit in the Obscuron’s plans.
Bjorn’s expression shifted, his earlier amusent fading into sothing more serious. He leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping into a low, warning tone. "Don’t... don’t do this. Really, don’t."
Tatehan was silent, his visor still locked on the battle commander, his armored form unmoving. The red glow of his eyes reflected in the man’s wide, terrified pupils, and for a mont, the room was completely still.
And then, suddenly, Tatehan moved.
He brought the glowing iron rod down and pressed the tip against the battle commander’s thigh.
The man’s scream was imdiate and horrific, a raw, animalistic roar that tore from his throat and echoed off the walls of the white room. His entire body convulsed, his muscles seizing, his back arching as far as the restraints would allow.
The sll of burning flesh filled the air, acrid and nauseating, and the iron seared into his skin, leaving a deep, blackened crater in the muscle.
"NAHHHHHHHH!" the man shrieked, his voice breaking, his eyes rolling back in his head.
He was feeling this much pain and impact from the ’Tip’ mind you. What if the whole stuff had been used.
Tatehan pulled the iron away, the tip still glowing red-hot, and he stepped back slightly, waiting.
The battle commander sobbed, his chest heaving, his breath coming in ragged, desperate gasps. Blood and spit dripped from his mouth, and his entire body shook uncontrollably.
Tatehan’s amplified voice cut through the man’s sobbing, calm: "How is the Obscuron able to live this long?"
The man’s eyes snapped open, wide and frantic, and he started talking imdiately, the words tumbling out in a frantic, broken stream. He could not endure any more pain. He could not. He could not do this anymore!
"The Obscuron... he... he was dying," the man stamred, his voice hoarse and trembling. "He was getting old. Too old. His body was failing him. He knew it was going to happen, so he... he formulated a plan. Years ago. Decades, maybe."
Tatehan tilted his head slightly, his visor glowing brighter. "What plan?"
The battle commander swallowed hard, his throat working, and he continued, his voice shaking. "He had a new body built for him. Not cloned. Not biological, synthetic and engineered. They transferred his consciousness, his mories, everything that made him who he was, into this new form."
Bjorn’s eyes widened, and he straightened, his arms uncrossing. "What?"
"How is that possible?"
This sounded more like a myth than real life at this point.
Tatehan’s mind went over this.
So so sort of artificial being, created by rging advanced technology with a sentient consciousness?: the obscuron?
A body built from synthetic tissue and so stuff he didn’t know about, powered by sothing really paper, capable of feats that went beyond human limitation.
The battle commander continued, his words spilling out faster now. "They built him a body. A stronger, faster and more durable one than any human could ever be. And then they transferred his mind into it. His consciousness, his knowledge, his mories, all of it. It was a fifty-percent chance. Maybe less. But they pulled it off."
He paused, his breathing ragged, and then he added, his voice barely a whisper, "He’s not human anymore. Not really. He’s sothing else. Sothing that can live for a thousand years. Maybe longer I don’t know."
The room went silent.
Tatehan and Bjorn stared at each other, their expressions hidden but their shock palpable. The implications of what they had just heard were staggering, almost too much to process in the mont.
The Obscuron was not just an old colonist who had sohow managed to extend his lifespan through dical technology or genetic modification. He was sothing really different now. Sothing that had transcended the limitations of human biology entirely.
Bjorn was the first to speak, his voice low and edged with disbelief. "A synthetic body. You’re telling he’s like... a machine?"
The battle commander shook his head weakly. "Not a machine. Not entirely. He’s... he’s kinda both. Flesh and tal. Organic and synthetic, that kind of stuff. He can think, he can feel, he can bleed but he doesn’t age and he doesn’t get sick. He doesn’t tire the way we do too."
Tatehan’s mind was racing, turning over the information, analyzing it from every angle. If what the man was saying was true, then the Obscuron was not just dangerous because of his power or his resources. He was dangerous because he was fundantally different from everyone they had fought before. He was not bound by the sa limitations. He could outlast them. He could outthink them. He could wait.
’He could wait... He could wait...’
And then the battle commander spoke again, his voice trembling. "His ability... it used to be super strength. That’s what he awakened with when he first ca to Mars. But when they transferred him into the new body, he lost that. The ability didn’t transfer since it was tied to his original biology."
Bjorn frowned. "So he’s weaker now?"
The man shook his head, his eyes wide with fear. He was telling them sothing he shouldn’t but well, damn it, at least he gets to not be tortured so badly.
"No, not weaker," The battle commander replied "But different. The new body ca with new capabilities. I don’t know what they are. No one does except his inner circle. But whatever he has now... it’s not super strength. It’s sothing else entirely."
’Sothing else entirely?’
Tatehan and Bjorn stared at each other again, the weight of the revelation settling over them like a heavy punch or kick or sothing like that.
Y’know, prior to this revelation he wanted to know more about this man.
He wanted to know things so little like how he walks or talks and all that, but now, hearing about the man made him not want to know about him anymore, like he could erase this from his mory.
The Obscuron was not just a warlord. He was not just a man with an ideology and an army. He was sothing that had been engineered, rebuilt and transford into a being that existed outside the natural order.
They were not dealing with a human.
They were dealing with an inhuman creature.
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