Unchosen Champion

Former Prime Commander Zalanth was paying as close attention to the events that were taking place elsewhere in the galaxy as anyone. In spite of her relatively high expectations for the Humans of Earth, the scenes that played out on desolate battlefields managed to leave her shell-shocked.

She rubbed the outside of her pale blue arms in a desperate bid for self-comfort, feeling the thin faded scars that crossed her skin through calloused hands. She tried to use the texture of her skin as a device to ground her thoughts, but the stress she was experiencing wasn’t so easily soothed. It was a bit like learning of the depths of space for the first time: difficult to understand and even more difficult to accept.

Many in the galactic community never had to struggle with such a revelation even a single time. They lived in isolated settlements, born into their faction, believing whatever they were told by their elders. Maybe the elders instructed them that they were the center of the universe, or they were the favored people of the galaxy, but no matter what, the extent of the galactic community was always a challenging acknowledgment if it came at all.

Zalanth felt pity for herself for being forced to deal with such a significant disclosure twice in her lifetime. She was afraid she would never restore the blissful ignorance that had given her unblemished confidence in their continued existence. Losing confidence in the defining rules and structures of the system was proving to be unsettling, to say the least. She shivered as she touched upon the sore spot in her thoughts.

There was an extra complication that made her uniquely affected by it all. Even though she was a mere warrior, a tool of her former faction, not expected to think too much outside of her own militaristic area of expertise, it seemed like she was the only one who had an inkling of what was really happening. Based on her experience and credentials, Zalanth was among the last people that should have been deducing intangible threats to the bedrock of the community.

Assessing combat effectiveness should have been as far as she ever went when it came to evaluating these battles, but what she saw as a tear in the carefully crafted fabric of their reality was impossible to overlook. The easy dismissals of what she was observing were disconcerting and made her feel like she was growing unhinged. That there weren’t public outcries mirroring her unease riddled her with doubt and confusion, but she couldn’t deny her judgment.

Despite all of the experts and casual observers who spent their time noting the oddities of the galactic community, she appeared to be the only one recognizing the alarm bells that were going off. The events surrounding the planet Earth were a revelation. Humans weren’t just a curiosity, they were a disruption. She wanted to grab someone and shout in their face that they should be terrified! If they managed to break this many rules in this short of a time, imagine what would happen if they were allowed to fester.

She was personally connected to the species of newcomers by pure happenstance and it only added to her uneasiness. In fact, she wasn’t simply connected to the events that were taking place, she was directly benefiting from the outcomes. There was this sense building within her chest that she hadn’t earned the fortune that was being bestowed upon her, and more importantly, it felt like there would be a severe cost extracted by humans, one way or another. Who or what would pay or how wasn't yet clear to her, but she thought it might come from everyone in the galactic community and everything that constituted their way of life.

She thought she had some sort of responsibility to do something, to warn someone. They needed to prepare themselves for change, to resist, to be ready for anything, but who would listen to the disgraced former Prime Commander? There was no one. Her previous subordinates would assume she had lost her mind after being exiled, and that was if they would even hear her out in the first place. Everyone else was a stranger. There were no friends in the community. The feeling of helplessness was crippling and only served to further verify her isolation.

She cycled through battle recordings, trying to decide which to review before settling on the newest one, as if she had to keep watching, and clenched her fists. She had viewed more than a thousand battles on her own, but she couldn’t look away.

The scariest part of all was that she didn’t think her assessment of the new faction should or would be unique. Once the peculiarities of humans were exposed more broadly, that they would potentially shake the foundations of normality, there would be an opposing reaction. Those that stood to lose would almost certainly be unhappy, and that would be anyone satisfied with the status quo or fearing of the unknown. In the galactic community, that was basically everyone. Humans would be even more isolated than she was, and what would they do when they were forced into a corner? She couldn’t imagine a scenario where they would accept their place. She need only watch the total annihilation of yet another army for proof.

There wouldn’t be many that had fallen so far from grace that they would both be cognizant of the current careful balance in the galaxy and low enough within it to embrace the chaos that humans represented. Humans would find no allies waiting for them, offering guidance or solidarity. The only ones to look at humans favorably would have to be the rubbish of the galaxy, tossed away after being used up, the weaklings who had been torn from their position in the hierarchies, and the pawns of the more powerful who were capable of dreaming of a different existence. Who else would cheer for havoc bringers?

Zalanth caught herself frowning at her miserable assessment of those people. Wasn’t she firmly among them? She was already welcoming the inevitable upheaval by siding with humans in her wagers, clearly taking advantage of her unfair connection with them. But her newly captured riches hardly changed her state as an exile of her faction that was existing in precarious independence.

“Maybe, I shouldn’t fear them…” She experimented with the idea of seeing them as something else and shuddered involuntarily, not ready to readjust her thinking yet again.

She flipped to the next scene as the new battles constantly updated, and did her best to mentally prepare herself before she let it play as she spiraled once again, unknowingly working her way through existential crisis after existential crisis. There had never been a species like the humans of Earth to join the galactic community. Zalanth couldn’t stop herself from wondering if there was a specific reason for that.

It was practically unheard of to even get a preview of a new species before their assimilation was complete in the first place. Normally, the system provided information for sponsorship bids, and those who won the auctions had an opportunity to interact with their Chosen, but that was it until the assimilation concluded.

Contractors would bring their firsthand accounts of the assimilation after it was all over, but by then it would be old news and few would have more than a passing interest in the new additions to the community. There would have been 10 more species presented in the meantime. The connections with the new planet would have already been planned and established long before the indigenous species had any say in how they went.

More importantly, contractors were typically those on the outs of their factions, expendable, with their superiors hoping to extract at least some value from their most worthless subordinates or hoping that the experience would shape them up. Zalanth herself had assigned failed soldiers to the Endless Empire’s service offerings on more than one occasion. Contractors were rarely the type to be taken seriously. They had a tendency to exaggerate their experiences in order to elevate their own standing within the factions that they represented.

Ignoring the notifications that five more battles had completed while she stared at the idle screen, Zalanth changed her mind and switched back to the first recording and let it play from the start. Somehow, she had been naive, even then.

The introduction of a new faction under unusual circumstances had drawn the attention of the entire universe to Earth’s primary species, and for a few days, everyone watched with excitement, including herself, though her feelings were closer to trepidation. She was, after all, a step ahead of the rest, uniquely situated to anticipate the surprises that would inevitably be exposed. Bets were placed, and predictions as to how long the human underdogs would last were broadcast from every direction.

The most confident in the newcomers didn’t expect more than around five successful battles before they fell. Those factions who had hesitated for even a few minutes before they declared war would have missed their chance, and those who added their hats to the ring after a few hours were merely advertising themselves with no expectation of having to follow through. Zalanth herself only bet on the side of the humans for the first 100 battles.

The first battle completely changed the mood of the galactic community in a tangible way.

Zalanth hadn’t moved from her private cabin in the nearly five days since. The tight warrior braids that normally kept her deep indigo hair out of the way had become disheveled, making it seem like she had been the one physically fighting over and over. Instead, she was merely spectating, reviewing the feeds that were distributed after each battle and growing increasingly agitated by the results.

All eyes were on Vronk the Worldbeater as he reintroduced himself to the galactic community in dramatic fashion. Only those from militant factions steeped in strategic intelligence would recognize the ancient veteran for exactly what he was, but the power he demonstrated was enough for all to pause and take note. Zalanth also had to seek more specific information from a broker, and there was no one in the Endless Empire that would have more data on hand than she still held in her head.

Before he was Vronk the Worldbeater, he was Vronk the Prince. The simplified story was that his faction experienced a horrible defeat at the hands of one of their most bitter rivals. They were effectively wiped out in a War of Elimination. The faction was dissolved, the planet’s settlements ruined, and his species shattered.

Vronk had been spared only due to his absence, ignoring the call to arms while experiencing the leisure that only members of royalty were ever permitted. He disappeared into the vastness of the galactic community afterwards, presumably to continue being spoiled with little thought given to his own lost people. They were, after all, a notably uncivilized species.

When he returned thousands of years later, with a rare personal quest for revenge, there was nothing of the pampered royal savage remaining. He single-handedly destroyed the core planet of his rivals as a vicious barbarian warrior, the perfect representation of his nearly extinct people. In returning the favor, he created a legend while joining the ranks of those called Worldbeaters. It was a simple designation among thousands of recognized titles, and its meaning was clear enough: he had completed a quest to kill an entire world on his own.

The popular theory of the time was that after his revenge, he returned to his life of indulgence with the few members of his species that had been spared at his side. Zalanth felt the need to revise that assumption, as he had evidently become an independent contractor accepting work during assimilations some time in the thousands of years since.

It was a completely inconceivable calling for someone of his stature. She couldn’t even attempt to guess what professional service he could offer that would be befitting his status and experience, or how any humans could have possibly afforded his contract.

Then again, Zalanth was well-aware of her own precarious independence. Maybe offering a service to assimilations would be a good way to stay out of the way. She would have to reconsider the utility of such a proposition. If it worked for Vronk, it could work for her as well. She couldn’t be considered anywhere close to his equal.

As Vronk abandoned his obscurity and turned the promising next generation of the Xyl’thari Brood into paste, giving them a drubbing that would take years to overcome, he exemplified why she thought humans were dangerous. He converted what was popularly described as a B-Tier faction with S-Tier bloodlust into fodder beneath his club while a handful of humans passively observed.

The galactic community quickly excused the unpredictable outcome by reframing what the Lighthouse was. Obviously, it was Vronk’s personal faction. The former Prince had found a novel way to reestablish the faction that was his birthright. Humans were dismissed as a factor with his overwhelming presence.

At the same time, he was only a single individual. Alone, he would still be conquered, but the predictions were adjusted to account for his unfair experience advantage. Whether it took a hundred declarations of war or if it took a thousand was where the new wagers were being made. Most didn’t think he would actually be defeated in combat until the additional restrictions brought by the ongoing assimilation were lifted and a faction serious enough about victory declared a War of Elimination.

The fresh meat trapped within assimilations simply didn’t have the time to develop such power, so Vronk had been completely unexpected. A faction forming during an assimilation was already unheard of, so the idea of flipping a contractor to their side was never a consideration, and even if it was, those assigned to assimilations by their factions would be failed soldiers or the less competent crafters in desperate need of experience. In other words: weak. They would hardly move the needle in the predictions. Vronk was special, but he was only a single obstacle preventing the Lighthouse from collapsing.

Instead, the community anticipated a forfeit loss soon enough. One true warrior couldn’t withstand the surge of factions that greedily nipped at the faction he defended. Suddenly, those who had hesitated before declaring war were looking to have timed their conquest perfectly. Those that had struck first would face an impossible battle with Vronk on the other side.

Zalanth felt like the broader galactic community failed to ask an obvious question. If it was Vronk’s faction, why was the founder the human called Coop? There was no royal she had ever heard of that would willingly bow their head to an unassimilated Unchosen without good reason, even ones known for rolling around in mud for fun like Vronk.

As the second battle began, the answer was unambiguous, at least to Zalanth. It was Coop’s faction and he and the humans had somehow subdued more than just Vronk the Lost Prince.

The Silent Hive’s army was confronted by an infuriated demoness on the second battlefield. When she appeared, flanked by 10 spectral humans, her opponents were already laughing at the poor display from the defenders. She looked down her nose at the 25,000 greedy and confident enemies and addressed them scornfully while their jeers slowly faded and her aura flooded their senses.

“You dare seek to destroy the Lighthouse?” She demanded with an echoing voice dripping with disgust as colored flames ignited and rose around her, causing her human companions to step back. It was a message directed to the rest of the galactic community as much as it was for her doomed opponents.

The challengers’ hesitation as they realized how outmatched they were wasn’t enough to spare them from her withering contempt. She disappeared, leaving a streak of energy that rose into the sky, then reappeared in the same instant, slamming into the middle of the enemy army as if she had fallen from beyond the planet’s atmosphere.

Pink flames erupted in all directions from the crater she formed, chasing the individuals unlucky enough to be caught in the blast as they were ejected from the area. The flames annihilated a siege engine and scorched those that shielded themselves from flying debris as they suddenly found themselves in close quarters combat. Their carapaces weren’t so silent when cooked by her attacks.

She became a whirl of chopping strikes, flattened hands empowered by colorful blades of fire, before disappearing with another beam, reappearing at the other end of the attacking army, destroying another of their engines, and penning them in with the abrupt transition. Her opponents stumbled as they were cut down, confused and struggling to decide on a direction to retreat. They were already staggered by her aura alone and were doomed, no matter what.

The demon wasn’t on Vronk’s level, but even Zalanth would avoid facing her if she had the option. That was doubly true if the demon was as passionately enraged as she was during her battle with the Silent Hive.

At the same time, the third battle was beginning, revealing a clear pattern. It was similarly one-sided. A second demon saluted his opponents, granting far more respect than the weaklings deserved before flashing forward, crossing the battlefield in a single step that left a streak of silver glimmering in his trail. His needle-point blade pierced the throat of the foremost Silicon Vanguard leader before the victim recognized he was in danger.

The deceptively simple, but precise thrust sent a chill down Zalanth’s back for it would have been lethal even to her. Then a blast of silver light exploded forward from the blade, cleaving a line that split the entire army in half and vaporized the automatons the army had brought with them for reinforcement.

There were countless peoples within the galactic community, but most were hardly worth notice on their own. They usually became members of other larger factions upon their conquest, or if they were lucky, occupied a singular unimportant faction for themselves, languishing among the hordes of others.

However, there were some that were important to recognize, regardless of their active affiliations, like the Undead, the Stonebound, the Mechanoids, the Crystalline, and of course the Demons. There were many more examples to take note of, but they all shared one important feature. They had multiple factions that most frequently fought among themselves, but were still more closely aligned with each other than anyone else. Though they jockeyed for position within their own hierarchies, they would still side with each other to destroy external opponents above all else.

It would be a mistake to assume a low threat isolated faction of the Stonebound would make an easy target, for their distant cousins were always possible reinforcements. Demons were recognized to be the most loyal to themselves, very rarely existing outside of their own demonic factions, due to negative echoes creating an implicit bias against them, but this pair demonstrated their loyalty to humans instead.

The combination of Vronk the Prince and the pair of demons was enough for Zalanth to be sure that this was truly a human faction. It was breaking well-established rules and ignoring expectations right from the start. Who, other than humans, could bend a royal to their side while willingly embracing demons? It was exactly like her orientation with the seditious humans.

Unfortunately, the presence of the demons caused even more confusion within the community at large. Was the Lighthouse a demon faction? Should the other factions be worried about demonic retribution? Or was it Vronk’s faction? Just how many powerhouses would defend the Lighthouse?

The collective excitement of the galactic community faded as it became clear that the fights would be completely one-sided. The feeling was replaced with general discontent. That the battles were one-sided in the opposite way to what every analyst expected prevented the whole game from becoming uninteresting, but most turned away with disgust, already developing a prejudice toward the Lighthouse faction. Even various demonic factions issued statements to disassociate themselves from the humans, but that didn’t prevent others from watching Earth with an air of suspicion, hesitating as they reassessed the planet as more threatening than anticipated.

No one liked their expectations going unmet and it seemed like everyone was losing vast quantities of credits. Everyone except Zalanth.

Zalanth watched every single battle between the Lighthouse and their legion of challengers. She honestly believed that out of every being in the galaxy, she had the most faith in the ability of the humans to defend themselves, but even she hadn’t expected to witness the utter destruction of so many armies. It had just come from an angle that was utterly impossible for any of them to predict.

She kept watching, winning, and trembling.