Everyone doubted you when you didn’t invest in any defense points, and only in speed and magical power. However, after a few missions done without a scratch, people began to recognize you as the “Untouchable.”

The idea was simple: take a young boy who had just come of age and had plenty of points to spend. Convince him to improve solely his speed and magical abilities. Throw him into the trials to teach him danger and love and hardihood. Make him learn suffering and experience pain and understand the camaraderie that bonds warriors together on a mission. Create a specialist – a pure breed – that was capable of besting the best in field, at the expense of his other skills. No one had ever tried that before.

But no one had expected such an impressive score from the kid – multiple ‘A’ rank missions successfully completed with not a single injury. The program was yielding results beyond the developers’ wildest predictions. Its focus started shifting, and the dynamics of the relationship – of researcher to boy – began to change quickly, and both sides could perceive it.

It finally happened, that one day, they tried to inject him – the Untouchable – with some of that Mezza Drug – to capture some of that raw power he was exerting. But he resisted, or so the story goes, and with a surge of arcane energy, overloaded the systems in the lab and burst out from the roof, eloping into the darkness.

The official statement by the state was that a rogue soldier had escaped incarceration. Men who were involved in the subsequent hunt for the Untouchable reported seeing only a dark flash in front of their eyes before being knocked out by a plasma pulse. Batch lightning took out entire squads of special forces in an instant – leaving behind only ashes and shadows of former men. Woodcutters in the forested Ardennes region where he escaped claimed that he made a hideout in the woods, veiled by a heavy magical miasma.

Carpet bombing the area didn’t seem to work. Patrols came back at half strength, with survivors giving harrowed tales of men struck down like pins and blasted to smithereens. Civilians started to evacuate the region, afraid of getting caught in the conflict. Two nights ago Colonel Jensen’s tent was attacked, the lead researcher on the program beheaded.

Tomorrow, we advance into that said area. I’ve divided my men into three squads – two will close in from the Southeast and the West respectively while the last one provides covering fire from one bound back. I’m equipping my troops with self-activated suicide vests. Hopefully they’ll take that bastard with them if it’s the last thing they do. No one knows how many, or if any at all, of these forty men will come back by dusk. I find solace and hope in the glittering hosts of heaven, and whatever happens tomorrow, my thoughts are forever with you, love.

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