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chapter 50 : outcasts
Author: T.NOOR
last update2025-08-06 23:31:06

Markus lifted the piece of cloth that formed the tent’s entrance. A faint sound echoed as it brushed against his worn iron staff. The sound was small, but it pierced the tense silence inside the tent like a hidden alarm.

"After you..." he said in a low tone, gesturing with a small smile to Tina, who stood beside him.

She nodded silently, her eyes fixed on the ground, as if trying to calm herself in the middle of a whirlwind of tension. Her features were exhausted, compressed between fatigue and fear. She took a slow breath and stepped into the main tent, where the atmosphere was heavy and every gaze was locked inward.

Markus followed her, his steps quiet but confident. His eyes moved slowly across the faces seated behind the table. Men and women, some with helmets placed before them, others holding papers filled with battle lines, and some simply staring at the two of them like ghosts risen from the ashes of war.

He recognized several of the commanders, not personally, but from a time he had once lived, before everything was folded and reshaped in this new world. Familiar faces from the past, features he had seen on battlefields, in strategic plans, and even in nightmares.

The commanders’ eyes held a mix of curiosity, suspicion, and cold astonishment devoid of emotion. The silence felt like a soldier’s breath on the edge of battle, voiceless, yet weighing every move.

"Familiar..." Markus thought as he bowed slightly in respect. "Familiar faces, even if I never wished to see them again."

He straightened up, steadied his tone, and spoke with quiet firmness.

"Markus Abomarian from the medical team, sir."

Next to him, Tina stood like a statue of tension. Her shoulders were tight, hands clasped in front of her, and her gaze wandered with no place to land. Her eyes met one of the commanders, and she faltered more. Her lips moved, but no sound came out.

Markus didn’t blame her. The aura that filled the tent was merciless. The gravity in this place was no joke. It felt like even the walls radiated pressure. He himself had felt the weight the first time he entered a tent like this, before his senses slowly adapted.

Finally, Tina spoke in a faint voice. She stammered, then gathered herself.

"Ah... um... Tina Klitt. Also from the medical team."

Her voice trembled, weak, like the words were forced out against her will.

From across the table, General Maldric narrowed his eyes and stared at Markus.

"Abomarian?"

The word carried unmistakable suspicion.

Markus slowly raised his hand and touched the dirt-streaked forehead.

"Sir, not everyone who carries the name is lucky. I'm from the other side of fortune."

A short, bitter chuckle followed his words. No one laughed.

General Darius leaned slightly forward.

"Oh... so you're one of those outcasts, aren't you?"

His tone was sharp, laced with contempt, more insult than observation.

"Darius" Elena snapped, glaring at him.

He glanced back defensively.

"What? I didn’t mean offense. I simply stated the truth."

Elena shook her head, her voice full of disdain.

"You're truly hopeless."

Then she muttered under her breath.

"Everyone knows how much it burns you inside when you deal with someone beneath your rank..."

Suddenly a deep voice thundered through the tent.

"Enough"

It was a commanding voice, not needing to be repeated. Every head turned. Every word died.

The speaker was Korvan, the supreme commander in the tent. He didn’t need to raise his voice to be heard. His presence alone was enough to stop any argument.

He looked at Markus and Tina with a steady gaze.

"First, I thank the heavens for your survival. Thousands didn’t make it. But what I want to know now is how. How did you manage it? What happened exactly at the eastern camp? And how did two members of the medical team survive while the armed soldiers did not?"

Markus swallowed hard but steadied his breath.

"Thank you, sir."

Then he began to explain in a clear voice. He told everything. The initial bombing, the collapse of the perimeter, the enemy breach, their crawl through the side paths, the beasts from the forest, the screaming soldiers, the split of the medical team, the short battle with a shapeshifter, his blackout, waking beside Tina, the decision to flee, and finally, their arrival here.

When he finished, silence filled the space once more.

Darius spoke with a mocking tone.

"You alone? An outcast teenager from the Abomarian clan took down all of that? That’s hard to believe."

Tiresse added, her green eyes narrowing on Markus.

"In fact, I agree with Darius."

Her tone was cold as steel. Each word carried the weight of doubt, as if she was trying to detect a lie in his eyes.

Korvan tapped his finger on the wooden table. The sound was sharp in the quiet, like a judge's gavel. His gaze remained fixed on Markus and Tina.

"My son, you seem like an exceptional person. From the way you stand. From your calmness in front of these unrelenting eyes, this table. My instincts rarely fail me."

He leaned slightly forward, his eyes piercing the dust on Markus’s forehead.

"But that is expected. For someone who is the son of the leader of the Abomarian clan."

Shock swept the tent like a silent explosion.

The commanders' looks shifted from suspicion to stunned astonishment. A storm of murmurs erupted.

"What!"

The voice came from the right. A commander who hadn’t spoken until now, his expression cracking.

"This outcast... really is the son of that man? The son of Clactus Abomarian?" asked a gray-haired female general, disbelief heavy in her voice.

"Impossible" someone else yelled, slamming his hand on the table. "Clactus would never father someone who failed to awaken his bloodline. That goes against clan law"

Murmurs spread through the tent.

"Strange..."

"This explains much, but it raises more questions."

"Clactus’s son? Here? As a medical soldier? That’s not normal."

While voices rose, Markus remained still. His eyes calm. He didn’t deny, didn’t react. It was as if he expected this moment all along.

Another voice followed, quiet but shaken.

"Interesting... but there’s still something he hasn’t told us."

General Ricard spoke. He stared at Markus with unmoving grey eyes.

"How did this young man, a fighter at Initiate level, defeat a fighter at Scorch Warden level?"

Another commander lifted his head.

"Yes. That kind of power gap can’t be ignored."

Ricard continued, tone analytical.

"If his account is true, he faced a shapeshifter in the forest. Not just any, but from the ape tribe. We all know what it means when a shapeshifter reaches Scorch Warden."

Tiresse nodded slowly.

"A warrior of that level could destroy an entire squad. How could he be defeated by someone still at the beginner level?"

Maldric chuckled quietly.

"Shall we call it the miracle we've been waiting for? Or have we just been played by a good story?"

All eyes turned back to Markus, surrounding him in silence and doubt. He took a slow breath, let it out, then said steadily.

"You could say I possess a special technique. It allowed me to surpass such limits."

His words weren’t loud, but they dropped like a stone into a deep well.

"A special technique?" Darius repeated, laughing coldly.

"Is it SS-rank then?" he said, sarcasm dripping from every word, a sly smile forming.

"I'm very curious about this technique. Could you, Markus, tell me more? A few details would be enough."

Markus cursed silently, eyes locked on Darius.

That cunning ape doesn’t want to know. He wants the technique for himself.

He answered in a calm voice, sharp as a blade.

"I respect your curiosity, sir. But unfortunately, I’m not authorized to reveal anything about this technique."

He didn’t want to sound defiant, but he showed no hesitation either.

Darius frowned, voice turning sharp.

"Not authorized? Or do you simply refuse to share a technique that could turn the tide of this war in our favor?"

The tent grew tense again.

Markus didn’t respond. He didn’t look at Darius. He ignored him and turned to Korvan, the only man whose words carried judgment.

Markus spoke slowly, gaze unwavering.

"This is a clan secret. Sharing it, whether by me or the one receiving it, is a crime punishable by death."

He paused, then added firmly.

"Even if the one revealing it is the son of the clan leader. Or the one receiving it is a general."

Some raised their brows. Darius’s irritation flared.

"You...!"

He stopped, unable to find words.

Korvan finally spoke.

"Hmm. Darius, calm yourself."

Darius leaned back in his seat, muttering but silent.

Korvan looked again at Markus. His voice now firm, focused.

"Very well, son of the Abomarian clan. You've made yourself clear."

He paused.

"Now, tell me the urgent intelligence you carry."

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