Regroup

Uhh, Lucius groaned as he slowly woke up.

His head began to beat as if he were getting pummeled.

Lucius twisted and turned on a medical bed as he brought his pained hands up to his face.

His hands were heavily bruised and hurt so much that they even began to shake.

Why... why... I shouldn't have trusted him,

With a soft voom, a wall became transparent as a short blue man came walking in.

Well, it seems you are awake, Mr. Lucius. The short, blue-skinned man walked towards the bed where Lucius was lying.

The short man was dressed in blue clothes, which matched his skin tone on his wrist, and a metallic band.

Lifting his wrist up where the metal band was, a blue screen manifested from his wrist.

It seems that your injuries have been minor, but I have been told about your medical predicament, even though the blast from the explosion didn't physically hurt you; falling down those stairs did. From what I've been told, it seems like your bruises and phantom pains can go on for months, and before you ask, we don't have the technology to find a cure for your disease.

But it seems like you had the fewest grievous injuries, and as the highest-ranking injured soldier is awake, I have to tell you that all the soldiers that fell down the stairs are alive, but it will take a while for them to properly heal. General Alice hasn't woken up yet since after the fall.

The Colonel and Lieutenant are surprisingly perfectly fine; they are even talking to the fortress head right now, negotiating the reward of dispatching that monster.

It is a really good thing that you people did for us. When we heard that signal, we were skeptical, but it really did work out. It is a pity that so many of your people had to die.

The blue-skinned man continued to talk as Lucius stared toward the ceiling in pain. Of course, his sense of good was stronger than his fear of pain.

He was born with this genetic disease that combined hemophilia with something his family associated with phantom pain. Every time that he got hurt, the injury could heal, but he would continuously feel the pain as if it had just gotten hurt. But sadly, it seemed that it had mutated, and his pain would continuously grow until it disappeared altogether.

He couldn't wait to be back on the ship; he would be completely alone in the workshop, keeping the dead off his mind.

He felt sorry for all those men who had died up there, but they all knew the danger of battle.

~~~~~~~~

No way, that was not our original deal!

An elderly, blue-skinned short man sat on a tall chair behind a desk.

While the Colonel and lieutenant sat on a small chair on the other side,

He continued to yell.

We provided the leather men with energy tanks, and we made most of the lances; you don't deserve a substantial increase in pay.

The Colonel's eyes were glowing in anger at the old man's words. Did the deaths of those men mean nothing to him?

Things have changed. Most of my men have died, and the rest are injured. The rate can't be the same, plus we weren't given good intelligence; a lot of things were kept out. We only knew that it used something akin to electricity to fight. If we knew about the specifics, my men would not have died. The colonel began to speak louder.

The elderly blue-skinned man scowled. It isn't my fault that your men are too weak; you should have had stronger men after you released that radio signal announcing your help to anyone in need.

The Lieutenant, by this point, had taken off his crown, and so he sat down beside the Colonel, listening to them argue as he just got angrier and angrier over time. To him, it sounded like neither of them truly cared for the soldiers that gave up their lives in the battle.

If we had more information, they wouldn't have died; all of this happened due to the unknown strength of that monster.