It was dark now. Lights beaming from the make-shift camp where the Defense Troops were located, shone onto the war-torn buildings. The wind gusted around gentle and course as the shore was nearby. Minimal banter between the men was heard, it echoed from street to street.

Gray ash clouds loom above the tired troopers, with the light of that of the round, bright moon. It gave a natural and genuine light. Crystal-like, and articulate.

Stepping closer and closer, James came face to face with Terem Stult.

Stult looked disgruntled by the battle and what had taken place. He had an expression of sorrow, and seemed down in his attitude. This was of obvious notice for James, now that they were standing in front of each other. However, Stult did not meet eyes with James as James looked to him. He hadn't said anything for a moment, leaving the sound of the surrounding scene take place.

"I don't go out much to these things." Stult said.

He continued to look out, and down from where James was standing.

"It was something Enderson never really allowed me to experience first hand. It... It was... My experience with this whole war and duties of observing entitled staying by the HOMC's side, and guiding his opinions towards a victory in battle. But..... seeing those men die so heartlessly..."

Stult choked up on his words slightly,

"..Seeing those men lose their lives deepens me, to a place of sadness."

James lay his arm on Stult's shoulder, showing a sign of comfort.

"But."

Terem Stult looked up to James, with an expression of confidence and teary eyed.

"I have faith in what we do, with us. And most importantly, with you."

Terem adjusted himself a bit, and changed his posture.

"Enderson chose you. Even after a catastrophic event in our nation's history. But you didn't let it define you as a weeper, but as an avenger. A warrior, and protector for us. I'm glad I am here with you now so that we may eradicate our enemies."

James looked to Stult with wonder, and admired the faith he had in him. It was publicly known for James to realize he was a hero to many, but to hear a personal account first hand, and with so much heart, struck him with inspiration.

"We will eradicate our foes Stult. Your trust in me, and to this Legion, will make sure of it."

Stult nodded with assurance.

"I need to notify the HOMC Stult."

"Of course Sir."

"The possibility of a Carrier Ship off the coast of Korris is very at this point. Gunships and Supply Craft have been arming the invasion in this area. They could only be returning to refuel and repair at a Carrier Ship. I request for aerial reconnaissance and additional troops, possibly Legion Guard units. Armored units will be needed as well for the final push into Korris Headlands. Brennen Faultner tanks for the final push should be suitable."

"Yes Sir, the request will be issued immediately."

Stult saluted and ran off to one of the rooftops where Defense Troopers were stationed, to acquire the best signal to issue the request.

James sighed slightly and turned back to the main of the camp. He approached a portable housing unit where he would rest. James entered to see a hammock and a stool with a radio.

Not very tired, James had laid down on the hammock and closed his eyes to get some rest.

He couldn't.

He lay staring up at the egg-white ceiling and just had a blank thought. Still and immobile, the only movements came from the shadows Defense Troopers walking back and forth in front of the portable camp heaters that shone through his window.

His head turned to the radio, which was currently turned off. So by trying to gain some sleep, James turned on the radio and attempted to fine a station to sleep comfortably to. He switched the nob, station to station, which was mostly static and had made no connections to anything, other than the patrolling Defense Troopers around the camp.

But suddenly, James had found a station to play something.

Static at first, but the sounds of what could be heard as sirens playing low and medium tones. Consistently with static playing over it. James very curious sat up now, and listened closer for the odd sounding sirens that were playing through the radio.

James looked out and through the window to see if anyone else was noticing the station, but nobody had noticed. He quickly turned back to the radio, as the ghoul like sirens were consistently playing until,

"----s-ss-ss----ss---s---sssss--s- Thirteen Days -----sss---s--ssss-ss--s"

Silence, and James sat in wonder at the sound of the radio. The voice sounded inhuman, and sounded more like a voice program. The sirens had played for a little more, until the broadcast was at a full static.

This must be a code or message by the Septem, James had thought. He got up quickly and ran over to the dispatch center of the camp.

"I need everyone on board to decipher this message that was just played moments ago. I do not have a recorded message, but a series of sirens were playing with a voice stating 'Thirteen days.' this is a possible Septem message or code sent to another group, possibly ones nearby. Scan the channels for the message and figure out its meaning.

"Roger." Said the technicians.

James stood there and pondered as the technicians quickly took to scanning the radio channels and frequencies for any coded messages. He took off back to his housing unit. On his way back, Stult met up with him. He seemed straightforward of what was to come and had presented himself with confidence.

"Sir. We've acquired what we have requested, the vehicles and support should be arriving shortly. Estimated time of arrival..."

Terem looked down at his watch quickly,

"47 minutes. They are arriving from the F.O.B. near the Southern Plain of Mayclaire."

"This is good Stult, what has the HOMC given us?"

"Right.... We were fortunate enough to receive six Brennan Faultner tanks, Stratospheric Craft shall provide the images useful to our advance, and Seventh Legion Brigade shall be joining us very soon. Thankfully, Seventh Legion has seen a good deal of combat recently in Frollen. They managed to push back Septem advance to the shores, so they should do fine here. They lost some men, but have a total of two thousand strong and twenty-two MACs."

"Perfect Stult, you are dismissed."

"Yes Sir."

And Terem went on his way to meet with the other Defense Troopers.

Swiftly he took off, as if he was needed to help somewhere. His mood changed significantly. James stood looking around, playing at his side with his hands, coursing his long coat. The fabric was a bit worn, but still had reminiscing softness of when James had first acquired it.

A day after graduation.... Initiation... James thought.

The patches that lay on his shoulders and sides signified a true hero and symbol of the Legions of The New Order. A perfect soldier, perfect icon, perfect human. Tales and rumors had been stretched a bit of what James had done in the past, but many holding true as unbelievable as they may have seemed. It was a shame that they were clouded by so many fictitious stories of James.

Step and step, James moved forward and entered his housing unit. Staring at the radio now, with no sound.

He swiftly motioned his hand forward subtly and the radio levitated into his hands. James gripped the audio device, and played with the knobs searching for the channel himself. But alas, it could not have been found.

Damn station, what did it mean? James thought hardly.

"Thirteen days..... Thirteen days..... Thir..."

James repeated the message, and attempted to figure out what had meant behind its broadcast.

Giving up on the message, James let go of the radio in front of him, and forced it back on the stool delicately.

Silence, but the sound of the Troopers outside maintained noise. Banter, and the sound of boots crunching the mud, rocks and debris.

James held his hands out in front of him, and he gazed in curiosity. He closed and opened each finger, one by one, as if he had a new pair of hands. The sensation of being able to manipulate objects without contact, or at least in this case, physical contact, sent chills through James. It was like millions of blunt needles were poking his finger tips and his palms were being pitted with a metal rod. Cold it felt, but not painful. Strange, but not shocking.

He unholstered his side arm in front of him without touching it. Prickly feelings lay over his hands, and he turned his gun in place, in mid air, inspecting it as it shifted. The chamber cocked back, the magazine was unloaded, and the gun was taken apart levitating. The pieces of metal, springs, and even the laser-initiated round starter was disassembled. The bullets of the gun floating all around James, swaying around in a circular fashion. James smiled and felt its odd sensation, as he concentrated heavily on manipulating all these objects in front of him.

Suddenly, the sound of knocking on the door was heard.

"Commissioner Roy, Sir, you are hailed to the dispatch center."

The pieces and bullets of the gun were still floating all around.

"I'll be there shortly."

James raised his hand up, and formed a claw like pose with his right hand, which immediately brought all parts of the weapon back in one piece almost instantly. The bullets filed over one another quickly in the magazine which James manually loaded back into the gun himself, but manipulated the weapon to cock the chamber and holstered.

"Chilling this may be, but fine it is. Fine indeed."

He looked out the window as the sun seemed to be rising. Very early in the morning it was, and the frost of the land had set in.

James laughed to himself subtly and turned his left hand into a fist, feeling the force of its power flow gently through his body.

This is my humanity.

My humanity as I know it, how I've always known it.

He opened the door, and took off to the technicians.