"Are you sure you won't be staying with us? A lunatic like him doesn't deserve someone as brave as you by his side," General Miller said to Crusher, who had just woken up after several hours of sleep.
Crusher grinned before replying, "He has a few loose screws, but he's a nice enough guy and his heart's in the right place. I can't fault him for making a few mistakes... After all, we all make mistakes, don't we? hahaha!"
General Miller looked bitter at hearing Crusher talk so highly of Daz, but she had saved them from their attack, so he couldn't stop her from wanting to stay at Fort Skip.
"Anyway, where's Dorian? I'd like to see him if that's okay?" Crusher had obviously come to know that Dorian was Greg's son and that everything was a big misunderstanding between Daz and the General due to the way Daz manipulated the information about Dorian's missing arm.
Greg, too, was aware of this, but he still despised Daz and thought ill of him for using such low and emotion-based tactics on a war-veteran like himself.
"I'm sorry, he's currently resting. He was feeling tired after the trip across the city. He always had a weak body," Greg smiled weakly.
Crusher nodded her head. "That makes sense. Oh well, I guess I can see him some other time. I should really return to Fort Skip now."
"Of course," General Miller replied before he outstretched his hand, "Again, I can't thank you enough for saving us from that monster. I didn't expect the difficulty to explode like that today."
Crusher grabbed Greg's hand and grinned. "It's fine. I'm glad I could help. Please consider putting everything from yesterday behind us. It was all a misunderstanding, after all, and I'm sure we can work something out that would be more advantageous to all of-"
"And I'm sorry," the General suddenly said, cutting Crusher's words off midway through. Crusher wasn't sure what he was apologising for, but before she could react, Greg's free hand had moved to her neck with lightning-fast speed and injected her with a syringe of some sort.
"...What?" Crusher collapsed on the spot, still confused and unsure of what had just happened.
Greg silently reached down and pulled the syringe out of Crusher's neck and he looked at her muscled body with a regretful look. "We can't have you returning to Daz, not considering how powerful you are. Every chess piece I take away from him is another win for us."
General Miller ordered some of his men to bring Crusher to a containment cell and to watch over her. If he could later persuade her to join his side, he would be able to fight off Daz with no issue, not to mention the possibility that she could aide in the coming 'four-day cycles'.
Now stood in front of a completely different containment unit to Crusher's, Greg sucked in a breath of air and mentally prepared himself. He entered the code to the door and walked in. At first glance, it looked like the room was empty except for the small television and the bunk bed in the corner that had a suspiciously large ball-shaped cover.
"Dorian, are you ready to talk yet?" Greg asked while he walked towards that ball. Apparently, it was his son huddled up in the bed's duvet.
Lifting his head, a pair of lifeless and very tired eyes looked at his father. "Are you ready to let me go yet, you psychopath?" Dorian asked hatefully and with a certain raspiness in his voice.
"Son..." Greg wasn't sure how to answer. He obviously couldn't let Dorian go considering he'd been brainwashed by Daz, or at least that was what Greg had assumed.
"I'm not your son! Get out! If you're not going to stop keeping me as your prisoner, then get the hell out!" Dorian yelled with hate in his voice.
"...How can still say things like that in such a situation? I only want what's best for you..." Greg looked hurt, but Dorian couldn't care any less even if he tried to.
"How could I not say such things? You're still the same as you were ten years ago. Nothing's different! Apocalypse or not." Dorian was on the verge of tears and he only wanted Greg to either release him or leave him alone.
Greg looked angered, but he quickly calmed himself and asked, "How can you still blame me for that? It was situational..."
"'Situational'? 'SITUATIONAL?!' It was your fault that she left, and you can't see why?! 'Oh, look at me, I'm Mr Nice Guy, I'm a General and everyone respects me! Don't talk back to me, Woman!' I was wrong to think that you might have changed, you wife-beater," Dorian replied with spite and scorn in his tone towards his own father.
Greg turned around and put a hand on the door. "I see. I'm sorry. I'll give you some more time to calm down." With that, Greg left his son and proceeded to spend his points on fortifying the camp and on strengthening himself.
Some time later, elsewhere, Crusher had woken up and found herself to be in a new, unfamiliar room. "Wow. Never thought I'd ever get drugged by a general," she scratched her head and continued, "I wonder if that's worthy of a bucket-list goal or something?"
Crusher looked around for a bit and noticed that her trusty sledgehammer, also named Crusher, was nowhere to be seen. "Guess that makes sense. Afterall, I'm fairly confident I could destroy the walls with Crusher. Hmm, I could always buy or design a new one from the system, but let's check my options first. System, how many merit points do I have again?"
|Confirmed. Displaying host's merit points.|
|The total merit balance of the host is now 421,642.|
"Hmm..." Crusher sat cross-legged and thought to herself. A few seconds passed, and suddenly, Crusher's view was blocked by a new screen that she had only heard about from Daz.
|Congratulations! The host has successfully fulfilled the requirements to undergo their first Evolution!|
|Please select one of the following to evolve.|
|Higher Human [C-Rated Species]||Rock Golem [S-Rated Species]|
|Host's current Species is Human.||Due to the host's sturdy and mountain-like body.|
|A more advanced and simply stronger human in every single aspect.||A Species very strong against physical attacks and somewhat resistant to magical attacks. Changes the host's body into one made of pure stone.|
|Four-Armed Half-Orc [C-Rated Species]||Titan [SSS-Rated Species]|
|Due to the host's strong disposition with destroying things via brute force.||A gift from the Higher God, the God of Strength.|
|A Species resistant to physical attacks, but weak to mental attacks. Passively increases the strength stat by 500.||A Species immune to pure physical damage and highly resistant to magical damage. Energy source becomes directly linked to a planet's energy source.|
"Heh, the God of Strength? A four-armed Half-orc sounds really interesting... shame. Guess I'll have to choose the Titan, huh?" Crusher mumbled to herself.
Roughly five minutes later, Sergeant Clifford, the unlucky soldier assigned to looking after the prisoner, a muscular woman, Crusher, was making his way to her containment cell at a brisk pace. In his hands was a bowl of nice-smelling soup.
Sergeant Clifford would be lying if he said that he wasn't tempted to drink the soup. It was far better than the food he and the other soldiers had been given as rations. For whatever reason, General Miller wanted to win this woman over.
"Really, such a waste of time. We should just kill her if we can't control her," Sergeant Clifford sighed as he reached his destination. he took a moment to recall the door's code, but after putting it in, he opened the door with his back to ensure he didn't spill any of the soup.
"Food's here. You better enjoy it, it's far better than-" Sergeant Clifford's words were cut off by a huge hand covering his entire head. A woman who looked like Crusher, except thinner and far taller, now reaching a staggering eight-feet, held the man's head like an egg.
"How kind of you, I was getting a bit hungry, hahaha!" Crusher laughed before she knocked the soldier out and drank the bowl of soup with glee. "Now, where are they keeping Captain Ahab, I wonder?" she asked rhetorically as she licked her lips.
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