Plot Pieces

The Villian is a Coward

Based on a Dream

There are two reasons to fight, to find thrill or to avoid desperation, and there are soldiers that fall anywhere on that scale. Connor was a bit odd. He fought because every aspect of battle, terrified him.

'Faster'. Connor told himself as he darted around another corner. 20 guards chased him around the compound. Being in a cell for two months had sucked away more endurance than he'd anticipated. 'Just keep your eyes on me.'

The trouble with being locked up was that Connor hadn't been scared, if anything, he was glad to have an excuse not to be on the front line.

Connor grew up in what many citizens might call "the good life." He was the son of a well-loved noble. He always had food on his plate, and the people in his social circle were pleasant enough to deal with. But Connor had grown up lazy and content.

When his ability was unlocked at sixteen, the high priest wasn't asked to appraise it. Instead, his father, the Duke, made it public knowledge, that his firstborn son's lack of aptitude and lack of motivation would render any ability useless. As such Connor could never inherit his father's title.

They expected nothing from him.

Yep, Connor was living the good life. But good things seldom last.

Not even a year after Connor received his ability, war broke out at the southern border. To promote Nationality, every Nobel was ordered to send, not just their forces to the capital, but also send a member of their lineage to join the foot soldiers

Connor's younger twin brother, Lucas, had the ability RESOLUTE. He could increase the defense of those around him as long as he remained in battle. He was everything their father could want in a son and everything the capital needed in a soldier. 

So naturally, they sent Connor.

'Shit.' He silently swore as two guards blocked off his path and started to lumber towards him. As his mind raced, the discarded son's ability increased.

Connor dashed towards the two guards, the surprise on their face, more than evident. He dodged their haphazard seemingly slow attacks and somersaulted over their heads. 'No, no no.' he heard himself warn, as he felt his body pivot, turn back towards the guards, and mockingly salute them. Instantly they resumed the chase.

'Shit.' He thought as his legs pushed on even faster.

RESILIENCE

That was the name of Connor's ability, but that's all the War Priest could tell him. From a practical use, the worse the situation became, the faster Connor moved.

"A coward's ability." His commanding officer had called it. As the war raged on, and men around him were slaughtered, Connor discovered that there was much more to his ability than speed. He didn't just become faster. As Connor's fear grew, so did his strength, agility, intelligence, and so on. His body would start to move on its own, as if doing everything that it could to keep the lazy good-for-nothing ability holder, alive. Another way RESILIENCE kept him alive, was by keeping his mouth shut. He couldn't speak unless he was calm.

Unfortunately, two months ago, his whole regimen was captured. Connor didn't fight becoming a prisoner of war. The cell gave him a roof over his head, and their food was always something warm that filled his stomach. What surprised him most was how quickly, his acquaintances changed.

These were battle-toughened soldiers that he'd fought alongside for three years. They teased him and ridiculed him for his cowardly ability. They told him that real men wouldn't run from a fight.