We´re Supposed To Hate Each Other, Right?

The camp loomed ahead, a collection of camouflaged tents and makeshift barricades merging seamlessly into the darkened forest just beyond the town, nearly indistinguishable from the towering trees that surrounded them.

The scent of damp earth and distant smoke filled the air, and as they came nearer, the hushed murmur of voices reached Neon’s ears- low, serious conversations between soldiers hardened by war. Every part of this place exuded discipline, efficiency, and danger.

He followed Aria, his muscles tense, every step careful and measured. His instincts screamed at him to be on guard, to expect hostility at any moment. Militians were the enemy. Unpredictable, ruthless, trained to hunt his kind without mercy. He had spent his life evading them, outmaneuvering them, ensuring they never got close enough to put a sword through his skull. Now, he was walking willingly into the heart of their camp.

"Stay close," Aria whispered over her shoulder. "And try not to look so... Nyxian."

Neon exhaled slowly. "Bit difficult to do that after all that has happened."

His gaze flickered over the figures in the shadows- watchful eyes peering from behind tent flaps, the glint of blades catching the faint moonlight. Every movement around him felt like a potential threat.

They reached the outer perimeter, where two guards stood watch, rifles slung over their shoulders. One of them was Dax, a broad-shouldered Militian with a gaze sharp enough to cut. He stepped forward, eyes narrowing the second he spotted Neon.

"Who’s the man?" His voice was calm, but there was an undercurrent of suspicion beneath it.

Aria didn’t hesitate. "He's from another squad. Got absolutely wrecked in battle. Had to drag him here myself. Poor guy barely made it."

Neon felt every muscle in his body lock up as the guards' gazes swept over him. They were assessing him, weighing the truth of Aria’s words. For a moment, he thought Dax might call her bluff. But then the other guard scoffed, shaking his head.

"That bad, huh?" Dax’s voice carried skepticism, but it wasn’t outright disbelief. It was as if he was used to hearing half-truths and exaggerations in this place.

Neon hesitated before responding, his voice coming out rough, uncertain. "So much blood," he muttered in his best imitation of the Militian accent. "I saw the light."

Dax made a noise that might have been amusement- or just resignation.

Aria gave Neon a small nudge forward, but he felt the weight of a dozen unseen eyes still lingering on him.

Each step deeper into the camp made his skin prickle with unease. His instincts were at war with the situation- he was in Militian territory, surrounded by people who had been raised to see him as the enemy. This could get messy.

The other camp members inside weren’t much better. Lina, Jace, and Soren all turned the second they entered, their expressions ranging from curiosity to open distrust.

"Who’s the casualty?" Lina asked, arms crossed over her chest. Her tone was casual, but her stance was solid, firm, like she was ready for a fight at any second.

"Another squad," Aria said for the second time. "He barely made it out. I had to drag him here myself."

Jace, taller than the others, studied Neon with a critical eye. "You sure he’s even gonna make it?"

Neon swallowed. "I don’t plan on dying here," he said, his voice steady despite the knot tightening in his chest.

Lina let out a low hum. "Guess we’ll see. Injury room’s that way. Don’t get in the way of real soldiers."

She clapped him on the shoulder- harder than necessary. He tensed, resisting the urge to shove her off. He wasn’t used to Militians getting this close without a weapon in hand.

"Come on," Aria murmured, leading him away. "Let’s get you settled before they start getting ideas."

Neon exhaled. He was inside now. But every fiber of his being told him he wasn’t safe yet.

The "injury room", as Neon saw before him, was little more than a repurposed tent with a few worn bunk beds and scattered medical supplies. The air smelled of antiseptic and damp fabric, and the dim lantern light cast flickering shadows across the space.

Neon barely had time to take it in before the invisible string pulled tight between him and Aria, stopping him mid-step. He stumbled, glaring back at her.

“Are you serious?”

Aria sighed. “You’re the one who moved too fast.”

“Maybe if you’d stop dragging me everywhere—” 

“Oh, just shut up and sit down.”

With a frustrated huff, Neon obeyed, perching stiffly on the edge of one of the beds. His head was throbbing, his body ached, and worst of all...

“I need to use the bathroom.”

Aria blinked. “Well… shit.”

“Exactly.”

A long, agonizing pause stretched between them before she exhaled sharply. “Fine. Let’s just... figure this out.”

What followed was a mess of awkward maneuvering, near faceplants, and an argument over whether she had to stand outside the tent entrance or literally turn her back. When Neon finally emerged, still scowling, he froze at the sight before him.

Aria was hunched over his bag, fingers wrapped around a sleek, disk-shaped device. One of his personal tech gadgets.

“Hey!” He stormed forward, grabbing it from her hands. “Do you have any idea what you’re messing with?”

She raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Relax, it’s not like I broke it.”

“You don’t just go digging through people’s stuff—”

Aria crossed her arms. “Then maybe don’t bring mysterious Nyxian gadgets into enemy territory. What does it do, anyway?”

Neon hesitated, gripping the device tighter. Then, with a sharp sigh, he flicked a switch on its side. Instantly, a faint blue light pulsed across its surface, rippling outward like a tiny energy field.

“It’s a pulse jammer,” he admitted. “Short-range. Disrupts Nyxian tracking signals.”

"What´s a tracking signal?"

He shot her a flat look, but explained nonetheless.

"All Nyxians have implants that track our location at any given moment. With this thing I made, you can avoid that."

Her eyes lit up with interest. “So that’s how you avoid getting detected. That’s—” She caught herself, then shrugged. “Kind of impressive.”

A blur of movement. Something small hurtled toward him. He barely had time to react before he heard a sharp thunk followed by a faint, shimmering ripple across his chest. A small metal tool clattered harmlessly to the floor.

He turned to Aria, incredulous. “Did you just throw something at me?”

She shrugged. “I wanted to test it one more time.”

Neon exhaled loudly. 

“Shield works, though,” she said. “We can´t hurt each other after all. Bummer.”

“Not directly, at least," he muttered. "No hitting each other, no killing. No touching skin-to-skin. But over clothes, it’s fine. And we can’t move too far apart.”

Aria frowned, considering that. “Are there powers like this in Nyxia?”

“No. We have technology. And this… doesn’t feel much like tech.”

She nodded. “Militia doesn’t have magic like this either. Just healers. The rest rely on training and become fighters.”

Silence settled between them, thick and unspoken. 

“This shouldn’t be happening at all,” Neon murmured. “Our nations are at war. We’re supposed to hate each other.”

Aria’s expression darkened. She was supposed to hate him. He was Nyxian. That alone should have been enough. But somehow…

Her mind churned with questions. Had he killed anyone? Had he killed Militians like any other Nyxian soldier? He had tried to kill her. And he would have succeeded if not for the strange shield protecting them from each other. And now he was here, willingly, surrounded by a hundred Militians.

Either he is bluffing, or he knows exactly what he is doing. Does he have a plan? It would be stupid to assume he does not. 

She had to know.

Before she could say anything, the tent flap rustled. A familiar voice broke the tension.

“Hey!” Lina grinned, leaning inside. “We’re gonna dance.”

Neon groaned.