Reborn

A few days later.

Commorragh.

The Thunder Warriors still lived in the same ramshackle hut as before, but they were no longer sprawled all over the floor, waiting for Bandis to return from the arena with the medicine—or for him not to return, so they could all grow old and die in their sleep.

Led by their crippled old commander, every Thunder Warrior except Bandis gathered together. Before them, on the filthy ground, lay a route map.

The map showed part of Commorragh, the dark city.

It was obscure, warped, and abstract.

Human senses often could not analyze the overall or partial appearance of Commorragh's cityscape. The Thunder Warriors did not need to perceive or analyze it. They only needed to travel as the map showed.

"I feel like we've gone back several centuries."

"I'm going to show those xenos what we're made of."

The old commander lay excitedly on the ground, his bloodshot eyes fixed on the route map. He was trying to commit the route it displayed, as well as the checkpoints and enemies they might—or certainly would—encounter along the way, to memory.

Then he sadly discovered that he could not remember it.

After staring blankly at the map for two minutes, he pointed at it and asked the person beside him, "What is this?"

The man he asked had lost all his teeth, but he was at least fairly lucid. He replied in a low voice, "You'll know when Bandis gets back."

And so the Thunder Warriors gathered around the route map.

Like the old men of ancient Terra who sat at the entrance of a village, staring at something for an entire day.

When another round of arena combat ended, Bandis returned.

This time, what Bandis carried was not the medicine given to him by