Chaos' Heir-Novel

The years after Istrone's crisis had been quiet since Ylaco's training camp lacked students. Yet, in time, the families had started trusting the Global Army again, refilling the ranks of young descendants needing military education.

Still, Lieutenant Carl Dyester's life remained the sduring both periods. His occupation didn't change even without descendants to imprison, so he spent his years drinking, smoking, and napping as usual, with only one exception.

The Lieutenant would never admit it, but he had picked up the habit of checking the network from tto time. He didn't care for general news and updates on important figures. He only typed Khan's nand dwelled on the many stories and rumors around him.

Carl Dyester justified himself with the basic need for entertainment to kill time. However, even he knew he cared about his disciple. Moreover, the news had grown more interesting and engaging by the year, especially when Monica Solodrey becinvolved with Khan's life.

The new habit killed two birds with one stone, dealing with the Lieutenant's boredom while updating him about his disciple. Truth be told, Carl approved and was happy about how Khan had turned his life around. Still, the news suddenly stopped coming.

The change had been gradual and had started after Khan's lessons ended. He disappeared from the public scene, and Monica spent the following months keeping his nrelevant through interviews and similar events. Rumors also flooded the network, but a sharp cut eventually happened.

Suddenly, Monica also disappeared from the public scene, leaving nothing but rumors to read. Lieutenant Dyester found them entertaining, too, but nothing could beat actual news. His jaded and experienced mind even understood something was up, but waiting for the situation to change was his only option.

The Lieutenant expected those changes to cthrough the network, but reality surprised him. One lazy morning, a call reached the prison, waking him up from a drunk nap. The event was highly unusual, but duty compelled him to answer.

"Sir," The soldier from the other side of the call said. "We have withheld someone at the camp's gate for questioning."

"What does that have to do with me?" Lieutenant Dyester asked. He handled descendants inside the camp, not unwanted and unauthorized guests.

"He claims to be Major Khan's father," The soldier explained. "We scanned him, and it matches. You told us to warn you if he ever visited, sir."

"Khan's father?" Lieutenant Dyester gasped. "Send him through."

"I must warn you, sir," The soldier added. "He is highly uncooperative and looks to be wasted."

"Send him through anyway," Lieutenant Dyester sighed, massaging his eyes. He couldn't complain about Bret's state when he wasn't any better. Besides, he had promised Khan he would have welcomed his father if he ever cto the camp.

The call ended, and Lieutenant Dyester turned only to see the most unwelcoming place in the universe. The prison area stank of booze and cigarettes. Empty bottles and dust were everywhere, and the cells were even worse.

Lieutenant Dyester felt slightly annoyed by the desire to clean up the place that rose into his mind. He didn't want to admit he wanted to make a good impression on Khan's father, but his hands approached the menus anyway to activate various robots and vents.

The area cleaned itself up under Lieutenant Dyester's scornful gaze. He even mustered a snort from tto tseeing his htransform into something unrecognizable. The place becalmost welcoming in a matter of minutes, but he fixed it by opening a new bottle and lighting a smoke.

Eventually, someone knocked on the trapdoor, and Lieutenant Dyester opened it to let two men inside. One was a gate soldier who performed a military salute and immediately departed. Instead, the other was a tired-looking middle-aged man with long, greasy hair and bloodshot eyes.

"The Global Army didn't get any more welcoming in these years," Bret cursed, descending the stairs toward the prison before his eyes spotted the open bottle. "Care to share that, soldier?"

"I'm Lieutenant Carl Dyester," The Lieutenant announced, seizing the open bottle and handing it to Bret. "I've been your son's Master for a period."

"I heard," Bret exclaimed, accepting the bottle and taking a long sip. "I've been hearing a great lot of things ever since I resumed interacting with soldiers."

The long sip didn't satisfy Bret, so he quickly took another before voicing a displeased grunt and inspecting the bottle's brand.

"You must have not been a good Master," Bret commented. "Khan would have warned you about this brand otherwise."

"He did," Lieutenant Dyester revealed, sitting at the small table's seat, "But it's cheaper."

"Can't disagree with that," Bret chuckled, joining Lieutenant Dyester at the table.

"I've heard about you before …," Bret stated, "Before everything. How fateful for the butcher of Istrone to be my kid's Master right before a new crisis on the splanet."

"Did you hear about the crisis?" Lieutenant Dyester asked, stealing the bottle from Bret's hands.

"Yes," Bret nodded, lowering his gaze. "How did Khan take it?"

"Better than most," Lieutenant Dyester praised.

"No wonder," Bret sighed. "He is no naïve or spoiled brat. He never had the chance to be one."

"You should claim smerit," Lieutenant Dyester pointed out. "He had the right mindset even before being my disciple."

"I can't claim shit," Bret snorted. "I barely raised him. I was always drunk somewhere, and he took care of himself without complaining even once."

Lieutenant Dyester fell silent. He knew Khan didn't have a good life in the Slums, but it wasn't his place to probe. Moreover, he had heard something about Bret, too, so insulting him didn't feel right.

"What's the monster of Nippe 2 stuff?" Bret questioned. "Also, I keep hearing about Princesses, both human and alien. Did Khan start a harem or something?"

"He is quite popular," Lieutenant Dyester scoffed. "He even had someone during his there. Though I read he is always serious about all his women."

"As for the monster of Nippe 2," Lieutenant Dyester continued. "He saved Princess Edna Virrai from an attempted kidnapping. Apparently, he single-handedly dealt with the enemy force."

"War names," Bret sighed. "At such a young age. Wait, how old is he now? I'm not sure what year it is either."

"He will be twenty-two next month," Lieutenant Dyester cleared the confusion, avoiding judgmental tones. He would be in the ssituation if he didn't periodically check the network for news.

"Not even twenty-two," Bret commented, "But a Major, engaged, and with war names. What kind of life did he force himself to do to get all this so soon?"

"Are you aware of his engagement with Miss Solodrey?" Lieutenant Dyester questioned, trying to lighten the topic.

"She was the one who called me," Bret revealed. "Feisty kid. I like her."

"Called you?" Lieutenant Dyester asked. He was still in the dark about the reason behind Bret's visit, and that detail only confused him.

"Yes, right," Bret exclaimed. "I shouldn't waste tcatching up. I need an official phone."

"A phone?" Lieutenant Dyester repeated as his confusion intensified. "I'm not sure you can contact Khan. He has actually been missing from the public scene for months."

"I know, I know," Bret said, standing up while dismissively waving his hand. "His girl toldeverything I needed to know. Now, phone?"

Lieutenant Dyester remained confused but drew his phone anyway. Yet, Bret scoffed at its sight.

"You don't wantto use yours," Bret shook his head before inspecting the dark area. "The menus here have a direct line of communication with the network, right? They'll do the job."

Bret neared the wall, tapping on it to reveal bright menus. Many functions were available to anyone, but the most specific ones required Lieutenant Dyester's genetic signature.

"Letget it," Lieutenant Dyester announced, also standing up. However, Bret tapped the menus on precise spots and at a strange pace until an empty bar appeared.

"I don't care if you watch this," Bret declared, typing a long and complicated code on the empty bar, "But they'll probably demand your head if they think you are involved."

Lieutenant Dyester's mind developed more questions by the second, but Bret's actions enlightened him on the seriousness of the situation. The classified menus opened after Bret inserted the code. In a matter of seconds, Bret had gone past the genetic signature's requirements, telling the Lieutenant that the issue was far above his pay grade.

"I'll return in an hour," Lieutenant Dyester eventually uttered, approaching the stairs.

"Leave the bottle," Bret ordered, continuing tinkering with the menus.

The trapdoor opened and closed, but Bret didn't move his eyes from the menus. He didn't have any contacts, but his tinkering brought him to another empty bar, which he filled with an even more complicated code.

After forwarding the code, the wall's speakers began to ring. Bret retrieved the bottle while he waited for an answer, but a simple word resounded when someone picked up on the other side. "Yes?"

"It's me," Bret announced, gulping down the remaining booze in his mouth. "I need to speak with the old man."

The speakers went silent, but Bret didn't worry. Actually, his drunken and intoxicated face had gained serious vibes by then. It seemed the situation was sobering him up.

Eventually, a rough and tired voice cfrom the speakers, but its tone was far from friendly. "I told you I never wanted to hear from you again."

"Shut it," Bret snorted. "I called you to claim that favor."

"Any debt toward you vanished with the Second Impact," The rough voice responded.

"It's not for me," Bret explained. "It's for your grandchild."

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