Hoplite sped onward, Michael hooting excitedly as his armored boots left deep imprints upon the forest floor. Lance gave a little yelp of fright every now and then, clinging hard to the arm he was using to hold her aloft. They had been running for close to six hours now it felt like, and Michael’s enthusiasm hadn’t seemed to drop one bit as he occasionally let out a long ‘Woooo!’ or ‘Hell yeah!’ whenever Hoplite had to jump over an obstacle or quickly swerve around a tree.

Lance did not share in the young marine’s enthusiasm, her pale flesh having turned a shade of green some time ago. Likely she would need more time to recuperate once Hoplite set her down once more… it shouldn’t be too long before they reached the Bastion, perhaps another few hours of sprinting. They were deep in the Faewood now, the setting sun again casting its fading orange gaze through the many leaves above to shadow the forest floor with its dancing lights. It was a sight that Hoplite had… come to enjoy.

Not locked within his cryo-pod or fighting in close quarters in gun-metal gray hallways or across barren blasted wastelands; simply out in the forest, his eyes drinking in the garish beauty of the Faewood greedily… it was pleasant. Hoplite hadn’t felt this way when he had killed the Admech in the Caliston forests… was it because of the fact that he had a clearer mission at the time? Had that been why Hoplite hadn’t taken in the scenery as he did now? Perhaps. This growing appreciation for things not related to warfare were beginning to make him somewhat uncomfortable…

Despite that feeling of uncomfort however, Hoplite could not stop from… enjoying this environment. As an object, a thing, Hoplite should not view anything as beautiful. Nature was simply another potential battleground, nothing more. The thought felt hollow as Hoplite stared in awe at a squirrel scrambling up a tree nearby. Hoplite had seen countless squirrels back on Earth when he was training to serve Terna… had he been just as intrigued by the creatures then as he was now?

Hoplite’s eyes widened with shock when suddenly, a fast moving blur emerged from behind a far off tree, several paces from the one the squirrel had been climbing. Too far off to pick up on his motion tracker, but he had seen it through his camera. What could move that fast, at that colossal size besides himself? In the instant Hoplite noticed the blur, time seemed to slow to a crawl; as it always did when he was fully focused, and he saw it more clearly. A man, with lightish green flesh and bloody red hair that was blown back by the sheer speed he ran at. In that same instant, the man turned his head, those red eyes seeming to lock onto Hoplite.

At the same time, both figures dug their heels into the forest floor, twin trails of furrowing soil following each pair of feet until they both came to a complete stop. Hoplite briefly chided himself as Lance and Michael stared at him with their brows knit, Lance looking particularly green while doing so. This wasn’t related to his current objective, there was no reason for him to stop and talk to this… anomalous individual. Hoplite turned to continue the journey back to the Bastion, but the mutant began jogging toward them. What was the mutant’s intent? Could he really call them mutants anymore though? Perhaps Hoplite should refer to them by the terms used by the locals… after all, this really wasn’t a mutant, was it? They were a completely different species in a different dimension, not mutations of humanity…

The fact that Hoplite did not argue with himself after that thought was somewhat concerning to him, but until he had definitive answers he would continue to assume that this indeed, was a different dimension. Hoplite then set down Lance as Michael noticed the stranger, undoing his own straps and falling to his feet behind him, staring with narrowed eyes at the massive approaching individual.

The man was huge, being at least of a height with Hoplite out of his armor. The man crossed wide arms over his muscled chest, smirking with a set of full white teeth and orcish tusks on display. He was shirtless, with tattered pants and flesh scored with as many scars as Hoplite himself had. That bloody red hair seemed to writhe in the wind like long scarlet grass, his equally crimson eyes seeming to stare hungrily at Hoplite.

“You…” The stranger said, his tone deep and gravelly “Have got to be the one.”

Michael unslung his rifle and brought it to bear, not aiming it yet, but staring at the stranger with intensity. Hoplite noticed that the young marines finger was on the trigger, but other than that, Michael remained almost completely still and silent. Hoplite unslung his shotgun, not aiming it, but having it ready to fire in case the stranger turned out to be aggressive. Lance swayed and stumbled over to a nearby tree, leaning heavily against it as she hung her head.

She still made sure to keep the stranger in view, though she didn’t seem like she was too worried. Lance seemed to be fixated on the strange glowing purple collar around the stranger's thick neck. It was an odd thing to wear, especially given that the only other article of clothing the orc wore was a pair of tattered trousers.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Hoplite told the stranger flatly “We have to go. Go about your business.”

The stranger laughed “But you are my business… Tell me, are you this Hoplite that I’ve heard so much about?”

Lance lifted her head slightly to stare at the stranger, and Michael’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“...Affirmative. Now leave.” Hoplite ordered sternly.

“I will not.” The stranger said, his smirk turning to a frown “I have come to challenge you to combat. I have seen what you did to Ferow the Raven… I wish to test my mettle against you… Know me, Hoplite!” He yelled as Michael lifted his rifle, aiming directly at the stranger's head “I am Tuji, the son of Zodd!” He declared, holding his arms out wide as he furled his fingers.

It was then that Hoplite notice the dried blood caking Tuji’s hands, and he raised his shotgun, finger on the trigger as the Pillar-born continued his mad laugh. Lance screamed in terror, falling to her rear as the green seemed to fade and be replaced by a stark paleness.

“N-no!” She screamed, backing away on all fours as Tuji began to cackle “P-pillar-born!?”

“I must thank my third father for guiding me directly to you Hoplite!” Tuji cackled “He has always had a way of helping me find my next challenge!”

Pillar-born? Hoplite had heard that term from Lance before… when they had met that strange party of misfits. Lance had asked Twindil if she had been sanctioned, the paladin confirming that she indeed was not Pillar-born, or in simpler terms…

A Godling.