Ichor

Cadet (Part I)

Year 1 - Cadet
Planet Primae

° ° ° °

"KEEP UP CADETS! FASTER!"

Second Lieutenant Brutus was running evening drills. He had spent the last twelve months breaking them in, wearing them down, making fine soldiers out of them. Well, he was trying to. This new batch of cadets had proved... difficult. Only a few would make it past training. Out of the forty cadets, he suspected ten were good enough to become full-fledged Chaos Soldiers and four to rise up to leadership positions. But only one was clearly destined to lead. Only one showed the potential to command an army. The problem was, he didn't know who.

Brutus could describe the man well enough: deep eyes that weakened your will, a smooth voice that left no room for objection, perfect posture that all but demanded respect, and a smile or smirk—both were rare—that compelled you to seek approval, trust, friendship even. Yet no name could be tagged to this mysterious fellow.

The lieutenant had tried looking him up in the planetary database, but he was evidently foreign to Primae—the first planet ever created. He was on record as a new recruit from Chaos, which hadn't happened in well over a couple hundred centuries. The cadet's entire file was classified. No name, no age, no origin, no skills, no information listed (save for he/him/his pronouns).

At first, the officers called him Yiós, "son" in Greek, as a joke that he was Chaos's son. It wasn't too far-fetched considering they both had raven-black hair and an air of authority cloaked around them at all times. But Chaos was known for their jovial demeanor. That was not to say they couldn't be serious at moments of great consequence, merely that they preferred an... optimistic viewpoint. This perplexing cadet, on the other hand, seldom showed emotion, especially positive ones.

However, if you looked close enough, you could often pick up on the amusement in his irises. If you listened carefully, you might hear the humor in his tone. If a comrade did something he considered praiseworthy, which only happened twice in training, he even gave a pleased smile. The first time he smiled was two months into training.

° ° ° °

The drill was simple: you and a partner had to carry a heavy log to the other side of the practice field. The last pair to make it had to clean the bathrooms. If your partner faltered or could not keep up, you were allowed to continue solo and your partner, switching every three days, would join the last pair on bathroom cleanup duty.

One cadet, Cadet Samson, always dragged his partner down. They weren't slow, their running pace was above average for the group, but they were clumsy and easily tripped over the natural terrain. Cadet Andrew Faren was the first partner to stay with Samson the whole way through. The duo would clearly come in last, but Faren refused to leave Samson behind. As they approached the finish line, contemptuous mocking went around the ranks. When the two finally dropped their log, Samson fell and accidentally pulled Faren down with him.

While the whole lot of them laughed, Yiós walked over. Cadets and officers alike watched in curiosity, followed by astonishment as the top cadet of their class, almost ever, lent out a hand to Faren. That was when Yiós first smiled. Faren was so shocked to be on the receiving end of the kind gesture that he barely processed the hand held out for him. After Faren stood, Yiós's smile faded, but he helped Samson up too. Unsurprisingly, Samson dropped out of the program in a week's time. Meanwhile, Faren stuck by Yiós like a personal bodyguard, not that Yiós ever needed one.

The second time he smiled was when his name changed to Ichor, referring to the godly blood. At the time, no one knew he was a demigod. Cadets came from many worlds around the universe, so one could not assume such a thing. The officers had their suspicions, but very few recruits came from Earth; thus, it remained a mystery for a long time. That aside, Ichor didn't smile because of the name change. His name changed because of what happened that caused him to smile.

The first thing to know is that Ichor hated blood. He hated the sight of blood on himself, whether or not it was his blood. That's not to say, however, he wasn't brutal on the battlefield. He'd given and taken many bloody injuries and had rarely, if at all, flinched away from something bloody. But his weapons, his clothes, the soles of his shoes would never have traces of blood on them. They were impeccably spotless, much to the surprise of the officers. It's hard to get blood out of clothes once they've stained. And everyone knew for a fact that some drills left bloodstains in for hours. Despite this, the cadet was able to wash out them all.

The second thing to know is that the cadets tended to act cold and distant towards each other, as expected in a highly competitive environment. The only two who showed fondness, besides the occasional shimmer of laughter in Ichor's eyes sent Faren's way or vise versa, were Cadets Marissa Sahal and Darleen Sahal (cousins, not siblings). One day, about seven months into training, Darleen took a hit to her side with a jagged piece of shrapnel. No internal organs were damaged, yet the blood was flowing fast. Marissa was applying pressure, but it was not enough. No one paid them a second glance until Ichor stopped in the middle of his drill and helped Marissa apply pressure. The officers assumed he did something more because even with them both, Darleen should've lost too much blood by the time medics arrived. But she didn't. Darleen survived and recovered quickly.

Afterward, Marissa asked, "Why did you help? You are not blood. She is not your responsibility."

Ichor, who at the time was still called Yiós, replied, "Blood is strong, but we are stronger. We choose who we are responsible for."

Marissa thought for a moment and then wondered, "Could that be what ichor is?"

The Greek and Roman gods, except the primordial Chaos, had no influence on other worlds outside of stories to tell children. Little was understood about them and their offspring, but most of the universe did believe in their existence. They were in the Chaos Army after all.

"Could ichor be the connections that last beyond death," Marissa continued, "and make us stronger without biological influence?"

Whether she was talking in a literal or metaphorical sense, Ichor did not know. But the idea amused him greatly and a small smirk of a smile graced his lips.

"Either it is or it isn't. But maybe it ought to be," Ichor responded.

From then on, everyone called him Ichor because he was the connection that made them stronger. Those that followed him fought with purpose and rose to the top as well. Faren and the Sahals were just below him.

° ° ° °

Lieutenant Brutus finally ended the drill. It was the last one before the initiation ceremony. Soon, ten of them—as expected—would be made official Chaos Soldiers and sorted into different divisions. The new cadets-turned-privates would then have to climb their respective divisions through battles and deeds. The top four were separated, but the lieutenant would be surprised if the quartet didn't see each other again one day, most likely in high positions.

As per usual, Chaos had come personally and inducted the privates, making them partially immortal—only able to die in battle. Not per usual, however, he stayed for the after-party. Nothing truly strange happened, but Chaos did pull Ichor off to the side towards the end. They spoke in hushed tones before shaking hands and departing. Lieutenant Brutus could only imagine what that meant. He never found out what they spoke of just as he never found out that Ichor's real name was Perseus "Percy" Jackson. But the man would proudly say he helped train Ichor. As the soldier gained respect and recognition, the lieutenant reflected contently in retirement. If the only thing to his name was that he served as the former lieutenant of the famed Ichor, that would be enough.