Umojan Ghost Operative
On Christmas Eve, Sterling City shines like a jewel in the night. Devout Christians flock to the churches in the city named after the Virgin Mary, the Child, or the Apostles to attend services. As the bells ring, the people of Sterling gather around their sizzling ovens and Holographic Projection Christmas trees in their homes to unwrap their gifts.
The Mengsk Family's holiday estate on the edge of the northern mountains was brightly lit, with servants in Santa hats celebrating the holiday with their employers. Laser detectors swept across the courtyard and residence every fraction of a second, and Umojan's intelligent drones patrolled the sky like night owls.
In the training room, training swords and sharpened iron swords were displayed on the sword rack. On the wall were the admonitory sayings left by Augustus's grandfather, one of which Augustus had repeatedly memorized as a child. "An upright man should fight for the oppressed, and a true king should protect his loyal people."
Augustus, dressed in a white training robe, is practicing swordsmanship with his swordsmanship instructor. Both of them are wielding a wooden broadsword with a handguard, which was once the sword of the Korhal lancers during the colonial era.
After bowing, Augustus twirled the wooden sword in his hand, spread his feet, and stood firmly on the wooden floor like a mountain, while his sword instructor maintained the same posture as him.
"Do you remember what I taught you?" Augustus's swordsmanship instructor was a middle-aged man with Asian features and dark eyes.
"Augustus Mengsk, the eighth month of the twelve months is named after him, he was upright and courageous, not vain, and was born to walk on the path of greatness and glory." Augustus said, while keeping a close eye on his mentor's eyes and the hand holding the sword.
"Do you still remember the words he left you?" the tutor asked.
"To defend lofty ideals or to fight for the oppressed. A noble person always stands firmly before a tyrant who rules the weak. Those who abuse power will be punished by heaven and earth, and upright people will not stand idly by and allow such evil to exist," Augustus replied.
"Your character has proven you will be the Lord of Korhal," the mentor said. "You and your father are both true Mengsk."
"And what about Arcturus?" Augustus asked.
"No, he's not that kind of person," the tutor said.
Augustus poised to strike, as if he were about to unleash his polished sword at any moment. But in an instant, his mentor reversed his blade and slashed at Augustus at a tricky angle. After a graceful turn, the latter easily parried the attack. The two white figures slashed, parried, spun, and thrust.
"Your reaction time, speed, and strength are all much worse than before. You should have been the lion of Korhal or the wolf of Sterling I trained, but now you are so weak that you are not even as good as a sixty-year-old man." The mentor used a powerful blow to make Augustus stagger back several steps.
Even when you're in the military, you shouldn't lower your standards.
"I have been too lazy," Augustus gasped, his long gray hair, damp with sweat, draped softly over his forehead. "I am weak from neglecting my practice."
"Then you should work even harder until you can easily defeat me again." In the memory of this aging elder, Augustus had begun to study swordsmanship, politics, and philosophy with him when he was six years old.
As a child, Augustus was not nearly as strong and powerful as his older brother, but he was very hardworking and persistent, and showed amazing talent in his studies. Augustus excelled in all aspects, but he was always arrogant and conceited, which is why he entered adolescence too early.
However, although his mentor Augustus's decline in swordsmanship, he had undoubtedly shed his former arrogance and become more composed and reserved.
Augustus silently wielded his training sword, gradually regaining his former senses. In his memory, Augustus was already able to strike his mentor's vitals with a single blow or deflect his opponent's sword with his youthful strength at the age of sixteen. He was proficient in using more than a dozen cold weapons and firearms, and could take down a guarded adult man in seconds with his bare hands.
For nearly ten minutes, Augustus kept slashing and blocking until there was a knock on the door of the training room.
Entering was Connor Ward, carrying Gauss Rifle; a black skull was emblazoned on his bare forearm. "Augustus," he said, "Ambassador Ailin Pasteur of Umojan is looking for you."
"He should be in Umojan, reunited with his family." Augustus bowed to his instructor and placed the training sword on the shelf. "Why didn't you invite him in?"
"He was followed by a Umojan soldier," Ward said. "That man made me feel uneasy."
"Since it was brought by Ailin, then it doesn't matter."
Soon, Ailin Pasteur, still dressed in a dark suit, walked in with a blond young man in a tight-fitting light blue combat uniform. The circuitry sewn into the thin fibers of the uniform, like the seams of trousers, emitted a silvery-white light.
"Augustus, this is the warrior you requested." Ailin looked at Augustus proudly. "A powerful Psionics, a super soldier."
"Very good, but... why is there only one?" Augustus looked at the Psionics that Ailin had mentioned and noticed that the man had long, curly blond hair, deep-set eyes, a high nose bridge, and pale blue eyes that revealed a melancholy expression, making him look listless.
"We have very few Psionics warriors, and most of them are mentors to new recruits. But don't worry, three more outstanding shadow warriors will arrive at Korhal IV in January next year," Ailin said with a smile.
"In Umojan, people do not consider Psionics to be outsiders. We call these brave warriors Shadow Guard, because they are the shadows that protect the elected council and the people."
"It's a pleasure to meet you. I am" Augustus did not show the fear and disgust that a Terrans often has towards Psionics. Instead, he walked over and shook hands with the other person in a very natural manner.
Although Augustus prefer a Psionics who is loyal only to him, all trained Psionics in the Terran Confederacy are controlled by the Confederacy. He has no choice but to settle for second best and deal with the impending Ghost operative assassination first.
"Augustus Mengsk, fighter for freedom, the Wolf of Mengsk, the revolutionary military leader," said the Shadow Guard. "I can see your bright and great heart."
"No, I'm just an ordinary person." Augustus about to ask the other person's name when the latter spoke first.
"We only have one name, and that is Shadow Guard." He then smiled. "Of course, you can call me Marcus, that's my name from Tarsonis."
"Marcus, thank you for coming all this way to protect me and my family." Augustus paused, and the other man voiced his unspoken question.
"You're curious about my Psionics level because Confederacy assassins are likely to be at the highest level, level ten," Marcus said. "By Confederacy PSI Psionics rating standards, I should only be level eight, but I brought Psionics shielding force field generator and a laser anti-stealth device specifically designed to deal with Psionics."
"Excuse me, but I think you should wait until I say what's on my mind, otherwise it sounds like you're talking to yourself." Augustus said with a smile, "I have another question. I've heard that Psionics are mind readers, so I'm curious how much of what others are thinking."
"Generally speaking, we can only perceive superficial emotional fluctuations, such as what you are about to say and do," Marcus replied. "If you want to delve into the deepest thoughts, that is possible, but it takes a lot of time. People are complex, and you can never fully understand a person's thoughts."
"You don't need to worry about me probing your thoughts. The Psionics shield we brought can block telepathy, which is mind reading." Suddenly, he smiled.
"You've thought of interrogating corrupt officials to find traitors and disloyal individuals within the Revolutionary Army."
"It's not assassination or slaughter, that's good."