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  - Oliver -

  Blood dripped steadily from the ragged stump of Oliver's arm as they hurried toward the hospital led among the t spires near his home. Each scarlet droplet left a stark trail on the polished obsidian pavement, a visceral reminder of the untrolled power he had unleashed.

  The General moved with purpose beside him, his usually posed demeanor tinged with urgency. He had acted swiftly—alerting Pals's elite medical team and dispatg engio repair the devastated sublevel of the house, which had been nearly obliterated by the catastrophic bst.

  "That was a close one," Wiz remarked with a wry smile as they approached the hospital entrance. "Good thing the whole house didn't e down."

  But Oliver was in no mood for humor. Pain seared through his arm, each throb synized with the frantic beat of his heart. He ched his jaw, fog on putting one foot in front of the other.

  Ihe medical staff sprang into a. A nurse administered a potent analgesid a cool numbness began to spread from the iion site. They guided him to a treatment chamber where his injured arm was gently submerged in VAT.

  It was eerily simir to the st time he'd lost an arm. Back then, he had been fully immersed i for days, suspended in a dreamless sleep while his beed. This time, only his arm required the treatment, allowing him to remain scious throughout the process. It was a small mercy; at least he wouldn't lose himself to the void of sedation.

  Operating his gau with just one hand, however, proved to be a frustrating endeavor. The device was designed for dual-handed input, and while it had ocur interface capabilities, the calibration was off, causing ss to flicker and ands to misfire. Oliver sighed, resigning himself to the temporary limitations.

  Despite the disfort, the three days passed swiftly. The medical team was effit, and soon he was discharged, his arm fully restored, but his mind weighed down by the memory of his blunder.

  After being released, Oliver began to adapt to the new routine. Uhe other recruits, he cked a standardized training schedule. His days were uable. Sometimes, Wiz would appear unannounced, personalized instru that challenged his physical abilities and uanding of his powers. The General's lessons were intense, often pushing Oliver to his limits, but also invaluable.

  Most of the time, though, he trained alohe training facilities were at his disposal—a byrinth of holographic simutravity modules, and bat drones. He spent hours honing his skills, determio trol the power of the new Z Crystal.

  Occasionally, he apanied Wiz to high-level meetings. Seated at the periphery of opulent ferens, he listened as military leaders and stists discussed strategies and teologies that could alter the course of worlds. It was daunting, but it offered him a glimpse into the broader implications of his role as a Ranger.

  "This is one of our primary facilities," Wiz expined as they walked, "though it isn't focused so mu teological research as it is on Ork knowledge." He g Oliver to ensure he was following. "Everything from biology, linguistics, history—any type of uanding about their society."

  Ahead of them stood a colossal white building, its sleek exterior punctuated by bck windows that shimmered under Pals's artificial lights. The structure loomed over the surrounding buildings, exuding an air of importance. Oliver s striking resembo the research block at the Academy, but there was something distinctly different about it.

  As they stepped inside, a work of long corridors unfolded before them, each lined with tless rooms where active research was being ducted. The air was filled with a quiet hum of activity, versations murmured in hushed tones, and holographic dispys flickered with data streams. The most signifit difference Oliver observed was the absence of darkened windows that had once barred recruits from glimpsing into the research bs at the Academy. Here, transparency seemed paramount; each project was ducted openly, inviting scrutiny and colboration from all Blue Rangers.

  One of the first rooms they stopped at featured a loallic table scattered with dozens of books and assorted papers. Around it, several Rangers were engrossed in a heated discussiouring animatedly as they made notes.

  "It doesn't make sense," one of them argued, frustration evident in his voice. "The transtion of this phrase doesn't align with the ones we found at the other outpost we attacked."

  Above the table, a holographic proje dispyed an array of floating symbols—plex and unfamiliar. Oliver couldn't decipher their meaning but reized them as elements of the uage.

  Wiz and Oliver paused, the debate unfold.

  "What's the issue here?" Wiz asked, his curiosity piqued.

  The Raurned, aowledging the General's presence. "General," one of them began respectfully, "we've received new Ork texts, but they don't seem to make any sense. When ly what we already know about their nguage, the transtions e out as gibberish."

  "I see," Wiz replied thoughtfully. "And what do we know about this text?"

  "Not much," the Ranger admitted. "It was found in one of the logistical bases we retly secured. We hoped to uncover some pns or strategiformation, but this isn't making sense so far."

  Wiz seemed to pte this, then turo Oliver. "What do you think?"

  Oliver wasn't caught off guard; over the past few days, the General had frequently sought his input, pushing him to think critically and share his reasoning.

  "I assume the Rangers have already sidered this," Oliver began, "but I'd question the dot's authenticity. We should check how long it's been there, who might have written it, and the possibility that they're starting to use some form of encryption."

  "Why focus on those aspects?" Wiz prompted, encing him to eborate.

  "Well," Oliver tinued, "the uage likely evolves simirly to human nguages, but their society is much older. The dot could be an aext—something obsolete that doesn't reflect current nguage use. Knowing who wrote it might indicate the level or fa of the Ork, especially since, from what little I've heard, their speech patterns vary signifitly based on skin color, which might correte with different tribes or social csses. Perhaps their writing varies accly. As for encryption, it's logical they'd anticipate us eventually deciphering their nguage and might be taking steps to secure their unications."

  "Iing," Wiz mused, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "How much do you know of Orkish?"

  "Not a lot," Oliver admitted. "Only what I overheard and learned during my impriso."

  "Even so, you seem to grasp more than some of our specialists," the General noted. "You're n, though there's also the possibility that we're entering different dialects uages from other Ork ies. Until now, we've primarily intercepted texts in pears to be their official nguage, but it's quite pusible they use multiple nguages or codes."

  The Rangers around them exged gnces, some scribbling down notes, others eyeing Oliver with a mixture of curiosity and, perhaps, a hint of envy at his rapport with the General.

  Oliver and Wiz emerged from the previous chamber and tinued expl other boratories. The afternoon stretched as they moved from oo the , with Wiz evaluating eae. By the end of their jourhey found themselves in one of the st bs.

  This particur boratory was shrouded in dimmer light. Twers—a man and a woman—stood near a tral metal examination table. However, the greatest shock to Oliver was the subject of their study: A massive, ash-gray Ork y strapped to the table.

  The twers appeared to be disseg the creature, versing quietly as they worked. Wiz entered, already speaking with the Rangers, while Oliver lingered by the doorway, his gaze fixed on the monstrous figure.

  Suddenly, the Ork roared in Oliver’s dire. For the first time, the boy could almost perfectly uand what it was saying.

  [Kill me! Please! By the heavens, grant me peace!] the Ork bellowed, begging for mercy.

  Oliver felt his heart grow heavy. Even if it was an enemy, it was surreal to witness a living creature being dissected alive on a etal table.

  “Sir, we’re rapidly unc how the Orks’ immune system works,” one of the Rangers expio Wiz. “By year, we should have some viruses ready for testing.”

  Oliver kept his eyes on the Ork, the sight troubling him deeply.

  “What do you think, boy?” Wiz asked.

  “Barbaric,” Oliver answered, managing only that single word. “I believe we are better than the Orks precisely because we don’t repeat the same cruelty they it.”

  Wiz stroked his beard, p. “You wouldn’t use biological ons?”

  “If it were the st option, maybe,” Oliver admitted. “But does that justify keeping the Ork in pain?”

  “Iing. For many, Orks are seen as animals—lower than animals, in fact. That’s why dug experiments like this isn’t sidered uhical,” Wiz expined.

  Oliver shook his head in judgment. “How far are we willing to sink, making ourselves more like the evil we’re trying to destroy?”

  Wiz tered, “How far would you be unwilling to go to end this war?”

  The boy grew quiet, flicted. He wao elimihe enemy and might eve to torture if necessary, but there had to be an apparent reason, a dire y of war. He found himself torn.

  With that question lingering in the air, they left the research wing, heading for the day's final meeting.

  GCLopes