Re-Awakening: Cannon Fodder With Strongest Talent

'Time to end the ambush. And start the interrogation.'

Ethan's counterattack erupted with devastating efficiency. Fire and water combined in steam lances that hammered their defensive formations while wind manipulation created pressure waves that sent Peak-Silver soldiers flying into tree trunks with bone-breaking force.

'Twelve down. Systematic elimination.'

The remaining eleven combatants—three captains and eight Peak-Silver soldiers—found themselves surrounded by their own dead while facing an opponent who'd barely exerted himself.

"Retreat!" Harris ordered, professional assessment recognizing hopeless tactical situation.

'No. We're going to have a conversation.'

Fire magic erupted in controlled barriers that blocked every escape route while leaving the center of the clearing untouched. The survivors found themselves trapped in a circle of superheated flames that promised incineration for anyone who attempted to flee.

"Now then," Ethan said conversationally, stepping out of the dissipating steam cloud. "Let's discuss your organization's territorial ambitions."

Captain Torrino raised his weapon defensively, but his hands trembled as he processed the tactical mathematics. "You... you're High-Gold rank."

'Perceptive. If a bit late.'

"Indeed. Which puts me substantially above your pay grade." Ethan's casual tone contrasted sharply with the destroyed clearing around them. "But I'm willing to have a civilized discussion."

The female captain—her armor bearing marks of command authority—studied him with calculating intelligence. "Captain Sarah Morrison. You're the Lord who eliminated Vincent's reconnaissance team."

'Morrison. Familiar name from Vincent's interrogation.'

"Vincent provided useful intelligence before his execution. Including details about your command structure." Fire danced around Ethan's fingertips as casual reminder of the power disparity. "Your turn to contribute useful information."

Harris's jaw clenched with frustrated rage. "We don't negotiate with territorial parasites."

'Parasites? Interesting perspective.'

Wind blades materialized around the captain's position, their invisible edges close enough to part his hair without touching skin. "That sounded like refusal to cooperate. Very disappointing."

"Wait!" Captain Morrison stepped forward, her tactical mind recognizing inevitability. "What do you want to know?"

'Pragmatic. I can work with pragmatic.'

"Your Lord's capabilities. Command structure. Total military strength. Territorial holdings. Standard intelligence briefing topics."

The remaining Peak-Silver soldiers exchanged glances that spoke of desperate hope their leaders might negotiate survival rather than choosing glorious death.

"That information is classified—" Torrino began.

His words cut off abruptly as wind blades removed three fingers from his weapon hand. Blood sprayed across ancient leaves while his sword clattered to earth.

"Classification levels assume equal negotiating positions," Ethan observed mildly. "We don't have equal positions."

'Pain teaches faster than words.'

Captain Morrison's expression hardened with the recognition that cooperation offered their only survival option. "Lord Vance commands approximately eight hundred subjects. Peak-Gold rank with C+ grade Domination talent."

'Eight hundred subjects. Peak-Gold leadership. C+ grade mental manipulation.'

"Continue."

"Ten captains at various Gold ranks. Two generals at High-Gold. Multiple territorial holdings across the northern jungle region."

'Substantial military organization. Regional power rather than local threat.'

Harris glared at his colleague with obvious disgust. "You're giving tactical intelligence to the enemy."

"Enemy status depends on future behavior," Ethan replied thoughtfully. "Cooperation suggests potential for alternative arrangements."

Captain Morrison's eyes narrowed as she processed the implications. "What kind of alternative arrangements?"

'Interesting question. What kind indeed?'

"Your organization operates through territorial conquest and tribute extraction. Unsustainable model in a competitive environment." Fire magic created complex patterns in the air as he considered options. "I represent competitive pressure."

"You're one Lord against organized empire," Torrino muttered through pain-clenched teeth.

'One Lord with systematic advancement capabilities they can't comprehend.'

"Empires fall when they encounter superior evolutionary pressure. Darwin was quite clear on the subject." Water manipulation cooled Torrino's wounds while maintaining the threat of renewed injury. "The question is whether your leadership adapts or becomes extinct."

The survivors processed this information with varying degrees of understanding. Military professionals recognized strategic threat when confronted with overwhelming tactical demonstration.

"What are you proposing?" Morrison asked carefully.

'Good question. What am I proposing?'

"Information exchange. Your intelligence regarding regional power structures in return for continued existence." The flames surrounding their position flickered lower, suggesting possibility rather than certainty. "Plus future considerations based on your organization's willingness to adapt."

Harris spat blood onto jungle soil. "Lord Vance doesn't negotiate with inferiors."

'Inferiors? We'll see about that.'

"Lord Vance hasn't met me yet. That conversation should prove educational for both of us." Crystal hardening manifested around Ethan's hands as visible reminder of the power that had eliminated most of their force single-handedly. "But that's future planning. Present concerns involve your immediate survival."

The tactical mathematics were stark. Three surviving captains and eight Peak-Silver soldiers against High-Gold opposition who'd demonstrated overwhelming superiority. Cooperation represented their only viable option.

'Time to see if pragmatism beats ideology.'

Captain Morrison made the calculation first. "What guarantees do we have?"

'Smart question. What guarantees indeed?'

"Professional courtesy between military officers. Plus mutual benefit from information exchange." The fire barriers maintained their threatening presence while offering hope of survival. "Your intelligence helps me understand regional power structures. Your survival provides ongoing communication channels."

'If they're intelligent enough to recognize opportunity.'

The clearing fell silent except for the crackling of contained flames and the groans of wounded soldiers. Three military professionals weighed survival against loyalty while surrounded by evidence of what resistance had achieved.

"Very well," Morrison said carefully. "Information exchange. Mutual benefit arrangements."

Her words carried the weight of formal agreement, but Ethan's enhanced senses detected subtle wrongness in her emotional state. Resignation mixed with something else—anticipation that suggested hidden calculations.

'They're planning something. Probably counting on their base's superior numbers.'

Harris nodded reluctantly, his professional assessment recognizing their hopeless tactical position. "We agree to information sharing arrangements."

'Eight hundred subjects plus Peak-Gold leadership. They think numbers will save them.'

Torrino managed agreement through pain-clenched teeth. "Cooperation. Yes."

The surviving Peak-Silver soldiers showed obvious relief as the fire barriers began to diminish, their survival instincts recognizing reprieve from certain death. But their leaders' expressions carried subtle confidence that spoke of broader strategic considerations.

'They think this is temporary setback rather than permanent power shift.'

"Excellent," Ethan replied with apparent satisfaction. "Professional cooperation benefits everyone involved."

The captains began organizing their wounded soldiers for departure, their movements carrying the brisk efficiency of military professionals conducting routine operations. Morrison coordinated medical attention while Harris assessed their remaining combat capabilities.

'They're assuming I'm letting them leave. Interesting assumption.'

"Where do you think you're going?" Ethan asked conversationally as the group prepared to depart.

The question froze everyone in place, their confidence evaporating as they recognized the casual menace in his tone.

"I... we assumed..." Morrison began, her tactical mind suddenly recognizing the trap they'd walked into.

"I haven't finished yet." Fire magic danced around his fingertips as gentle reminder of the power disparity. "I want you to lead me toward a Gold-rank spawning point. You must know one somewhere."

'Gold-rank spawning points. Access to advancement materials beyond current limitations.'

The captains stared at him with expressions of shocked disbelief, their minds struggling to process what he'd just requested. Morrison's mouth opened and closed soundlessly while Harris's face went pale beneath his combat dirt.

"A... a Gold-rank spawning point?" Torrino stammered through his pain. "You're asking for Gold spawning points like they're... like they're cabbage."

'Exactly like cabbage. Renewable resources for systematic advancement.'

"Yes, we do know of one," Morrison admitted reluctantly. "But... that's near our base. Lord Vance's territorial center."

'Perfect. Convenient location for multiple objectives.'

Ethan's smile carried predatory satisfaction that made several Peak-Silver soldiers step backward involuntarily. "Oh really? I guess we'll visit it in a few days then."

The implications hit the captains like physical blows. Their faces showed dawning horror as they realized he intended to approach their primary stronghold with the casual confidence of someone conducting routine business.

'Strategic reconnaissance combined with resource acquisition. Efficient planning.'

"In the meantime," he continued pleasantly, "you'll remain as guests with me. Extended information sharing sessions, you understand."

'Captives, not guests. But diplomacy has its protocols.'

Harris found his voice first. "You can't seriously expect us to guide you to our own base."

"Professional cooperation, remember? Mutual benefit arrangements." The fire barriers reformed around their position, cutting off potential escape routes. "Unless you're reconsidering our agreement?"

'Cooperation under duress. Still cooperation.'

Morrison's tactical mind raced through options that grew bleaker with each consideration. "This wasn't part of our arrangement."

"The arrangement was information exchange. Location intelligence qualifies as information." Wind blades materialized around the captains' positions as subtle pressure enhancement. "I'm simply expanding the scope of cooperation."

'Expansion of terms. Standard negotiation technique.'

"Also," Ethan added with casual authority, "I need all your golden cores. Just because we might form a relationship of allies soon doesn't mean I'll forgive you for killing my subordinates."

The demand struck them like lightning. Golden cores represented weeks or months of advancement—precious resources that military organizations hoarded for leadership enhancement.

'Compensation for murdered subjects. Fair exchange rate.'

"Those cores are military property," Harris protested. "We can't simply—"

"Choose," Ethan interrupted, his voice carrying absolute finality. "Either you leave a hand here as additional compensation, or you die. The golden cores are just the beginning of what you owe me."

'Justice has its price. Payment in suffering or death.'

The ultimatum shattered their remaining composure. Morrison's hand moved instinctively toward her weapon while Torrino backed away despite his injuries. The Peak-Silver soldiers spread into defensive formations with the desperate efficiency of cornered animals.

'They're going to fight. Ideology trumps survival instinct.'

"Never," Harris snarled, drawing his sword with fluid motion. "We're soldiers of Lord Vance. We don't submit to territorial parasites."

'Parasites again. Their terminology reveals their contempt.'

"Military honor," Morrison agreed, her own weapon appearing in practiced grip. "Death before dishonor."

'Honor. The luxury of those who've never faced overwhelming force.'