Verônica Von Unicorn
The man before me was exactly as my sister had described.
However, I believed she had been much more subtle in her descriptions than she should have been. Anywhere I saw a man like him, I would describe him as a sculpture someone forgot to keep still — something that shouldn't move but that moved, and that each movement made it harder to pretend you weren't looking.
His body had a form the Oasis had rebuilt in ways that went far beyond what human genetics allowed. Even beneath the clothes — which clearly weren't his, tight at the shoulders, short at the arms, stretched in places that gave away that the body inside had grown without asking the fabric's permission — I could see. The thin waist contrasting with thick legs that seemed as though they would burst the pants at any moment. The shoulders too wide for the shirt, the arms filling the sleeves as though the fabric were a suggestion and not a containment. Two meters of something that didn't seem entirely human, but that was — and that was the most disturbing part.
I myself had grown a few centimeters taller after the Oasis. Even my hair had changed. Mutations happened. Were normal. Expected. But that man's transformation went far beyond what clothing could hold.
And then there was the face.
The two-meter colossus ended in a face that didn't match the body — angelic, almost serene, framed by white hair that fell with a naturalness that seemed intentional but that I knew wasn't. The skin had a tone that recalled polished marble — not pale, not sickly, but with that faint luminosity coming from within that I had already seen in Oasis creatures that carried blood of something that wasn't carbon.
My sister had been sincere when she said he was the most beautiful man she had ever seen.
Honestly, I had no way to disagree.
But that wasn't what worried me.
I approached him, and a fragrance struck me before I was prepared — sweet, dense, with layers that changed as I breathed, something that wasn't perfume because perfume is a choice and that was emanation. The scent entered my body in a way I knew wasn't normal. Integration with certain Oasis races could transform the human into a natural pheromone emitter — a chemical frequency that attracted everything around with the subtlety of a trap that didn't look like a trap. I felt his heat on my back before he was close enough for that to make physical sense.
But it wasn't the perfect body, nor the angelic face, nor the addictive scent that gave me a feeling I didn't know how to classify.
It was what I knew about him.
The pieces had fit together a long time ago.
Being the leader of the largest mercantile guild in the human kingdom of the Oasis gave me access to information most Lords would never see. Reports. Records. Whispers that arrived from sources that couldn't be named. And like a puzzle, I assembled the pieces one by one — slowly, with care, with the meticulousness of someone who knows the final image may be larger than the box.
He had, somehow, constructed Greek fire with the Oasis's materials — something nobody before had managed, something that changed the balance of power at the most basic level.
It was he who had survived the Colosseum — not just survived, but left with something the Colosseum didn't usually return: dignity.
And it was he who had done something unthinkable with the Infernals. Something so unbelievable that the Infernals themselves transformed the event into absolute secrecy — locked, classified, buried so deep that not even my sources could reach the details. Only the shadow of what happened. Only the trail.
And the trail was terrifying.
That human was something without precedent. And even so — even with all of that, even being what he was — he seemed not to want to be there. His posture screamed discomfort. His eyes wandered the hall with the impatience of someone who had been ripped from where they were and thrown into a place they hadn't chosen. That bothered me. I needed his strength, his intelligence, and mainly something I still didn't know how to measure but was certain was necessary.
"Hello." My voice came out thinner than I wanted. "My sister spoke a great deal about you. It's a pleasure to meet you."
My father noticed. And gave a smile I hated — the one that meant he had noticed something I would have preferred he didn't notice. I clenched my fist behind my back to keep from punching him.
"What do I need to do?"
The man's voice came out deep. Direct. Without greeting, without returned courtesy, without any of the social dances I was accustomed to receiving from every person who entered that room. Just the question — clean, functional, with the economy of someone who has better things to do and is giving you the chance to convince him this is worth the time.
I could see by his lips that he didn't like being there. Something had happened — I didn't know exactly what, but I knew someone who agreed to be there wasn't doing it by will. They were doing it by necessity or obligation.
In truth, I knew that summoning him could create some kind of friction. That was why I sent not just one returnee, but three — and even so I thought I still needed my father. That monster was something humanity had never seen, and monsters aren't convinced with courtesy.
✦ ✦ ✦
"Daughter… is something wrong?"
My mind had flown too far. Between everything I knew about him and everything the moment made me feel, I lost myself within myself — something that rarely happened and that always irritated me when it did. My father pulled me from the stupor with the gentleness of a jackhammer, and I felt the heat rising up my neck.
"Sorry. Sometimes I end up getting lost." I coughed to adjust the tone. "Very well. Follow me."
I moved away from the man. One step, two, three — and with each meter of distance the scent grew weaker and the heat on my back diminished and my heart finally began to beat at a rhythm that resembled professional. I needed space. That colossus gave me many things, but none of them was what I needed in that moment.
After calming myself, I advanced down the corridor to the end, where my office opened — ample, organized, with maps on the walls and a table too large for one person and perfect for what I did on it.
"Very well." My father spoke with the casualness of someone about to exit the scene. "We'll leave you two alone. If you need me, I'll be at the training field."
"Wait!"
He stopped. Startled by my voice, which probably came out louder than I really wanted. I coughed again — I was coughing too much, and I knew he knew the reason.
"Leave Rose with me. I need someone to take notes of our conversation and remind me of things I don't remember."
In my father's eyes I saw confusion. Of course. I didn't forget things. Never. That was why I was the leader of that mission and not him — my memory was a weapon that never failed, that stored every number, every name, every map with the precision of someone born to process information and transform it into strategy. I didn't need anyone to take notes on anything.
But something in his mind flew while a smile I hated appeared on his face.
"HAHAHAHA! Of course, daughter." He turned to leave. "But try to give her back. She still needs to train the juniors."
"Thank you, father."
I sat at my desk. In my chair. On my territory. And even so I still felt the discomfort.
The man sat across from me — and the chair, which was made for normal people, seemed to shrink beneath him. The body curved unevenly, a giant trying to adjust to furniture that wasn't designed for what he was. The elbows were too wide, the knees hit the underside of the tabletop, and he seemed to be constantly negotiating with his own anatomy about how to fit in that space.
Rose stayed standing by the door. Natural. Discreet. With the tablet in her hand, in the same position as always, as though she were there by chance and not by function. I wondered, sometimes, how she managed it. How that man — with that body, that face, that scent — provoked absolutely nothing in her.
"Very well. I'm listening. What's your idea?"
The man went straight to the point.
I loved people like that. Who didn't put the surname before everything. Who treated me like a normal person and respected me for capability before name. Who didn't ask permission to be honest.
"Very well." I coughed one more time — for the last time, I promised myself — and returned to the core. "You must have already heard from my father what's happening. But I think he didn't get to the core of the solution." I pulled the holograms over the table. The numbers appeared between us two like miniature stars. "Today, we know from infiltrators that they have around two hundred dispersed ships. We have well more than triple that. We managed to dominate their entire outer quadrant thanks to the autonomous units." I paused. "Unfortunately, they realized we don't have the capacity to dominate their planet. Today, we managed to form a trench in orbit, but we don't have the capacity for anything more."
I decided to start with the truth. Without packaging. Without diplomacy. I knew that human was intelligent enough to process everything I said and understand exactly what was at stake.
"So you mean we're fucked."
The words came out deep and true. Without hesitation. Without the embarrassment most nobles felt when saying the obvious out loud. He took the entire situation — superior but useless ships against the planet, orbital trench that was mere containment, the enemy able to simply ignore the siege and attack other planets — and summarized it in four words worth more than the months of reports I had compiled.
It was a dance where we weren't the ones choosing the music. The main problem was that the enemy always had the advantage of simply ignoring the siege and attacking other planets to break the formation. At some point, they would understand that the stationed ships served for nothing beyond watching them. Our passivity would be our ruin.
We needed to act.
"Yes. We need to do something." I removed a cartographic plan from the table — hand-drawn, because I liked to draw. In truth, drawing was the way I fixed information in my mind. Each line, each river, each valley of that map existed in my head before existing on paper. "And for that I decided to attack here."
I opened the map on the table.
His eyes descended. Scanned the lines. And in less than three seconds — I counted — his brow furrowed.
"What is this I'm seeing?" The eyes rose to mine. "This isn't Kazadun."
I liked it.
Liked that he noticed immediately. Most of the elders I had briefed looked at that map for minutes without understanding what they were seeing. He not only saw but understood — probably assembled the pieces from the excess of water I had drawn. Kazadun didn't have water, at least not on its surface. Kazadun was fire and rock and magma. If the map showed rivers and oceans, it wasn't Kazadun.
"Erebus." I said, and saw the name land in his mind like an anchor. "Also called the Dark Planet. It's Kazadun's moon." I rotated the hologram to show the orbital relationship. "The sun doesn't hit it directly, but Kazadun's heat generates gamma rays in great excess — and with that, Erebus became a planet composed of nearly ninety-five percent water. Warm. Dark. An endless ocean heated by radiation from another world."
I let the information settle before continuing.
"Erebus was the first celestial body to be transported along with Kazadun to our border. We believe it has something to do with the transport method — but we're still not sure."His eyes didn't leave the map. "And that's why we're going to descend and dominate it."
The words came out with certainty. But the man's face didn't seem surprised. In truth, he showed nothing — he merely processed, and I saw the processing happening in real time: the eyes moving between the map, the hologram, and something inside his own head I didn't have access to.
"So we'll be the bait." He said. Without emotion. Like someone stating the weather. "To prevent all the other planets from suffering." A minimal pause. "Interesting."
I was shocked.
He discovered my idea in a few seconds.
Dominating the moon was strategically sound — that I knew any military mind would see. With Erebus under human control, we could monitor Kazadun up close while freeing the ships to give support to nearby planets that could be attacked. It was logical. It was obvious.
But the core wasn't that.
The core was that, with the moon dominated, we would create a target on our own backs. We would force them to react — to concentrate forces on recovering Erebus instead of dispersing them in random attacks against human planets. We would give check. Force their hand.
And that also meant we would place ourselves on the front line against the Infernals. Not in space, where we had the advantage. On land — or on water, in the case of Erebus. We would have weapons and everything the Oasis didn't permit, but so would they. It would be an open fight. Dangerous. The kind I still didn't know would work.
He had seen all of that in seconds.
I needed weeks.
"It's an excellent idea." He said with the naturalness of someone complimenting the weather. "Which one's my ship?"
He didn't question. Didn't hesitate. Didn't ask for time to think. Didn't do any of the things each elder, each commander, each noble with decades of experience did when I presented that plan in the four or five meetings I needed to convince them. He simply understood, accepted, and asked for the tool.
"Yes. I'm going to present—"
The door exploded inward.
Not literally — but that's what it seemed like. The impact of the kick made the door slam against the wall with a force that shook the maps, and Rose, who had been leaning beside it, staggered to the side with the surprise of someone who didn't expect anyone to be stupid enough to kick the door of the strategy room.
"HEY, HEY, HEY! SORRY THERE, AUNTIE!" The voice invaded the room before the body. "WHERE'S THE ROOKIE I'M GONNA HAVE TO BREAK IN?!"
Viego.
My cousin entered with the energy of a hurricane that didn't know it was a hurricane — or knew and didn't care, which was worse. Messy blond hair falling over a tanned face that had the same Unicorn structure but expressed it with the delicacy of a punch. The body was broad, heavy, with the dense musculature of someone who fought not from training but from pleasure. And the eyes — violet like everyone in the family, but with a different intensity, one that came not from intelligence but from the absolute conviction that he was the strongest in the room.
I hated him.
With all my strength.
Not because he was bad — he wasn't. Arrogant, yes. Irresponsible, always. Hostile to everyone who breathed near him, without exception. But strong. Genuinely strong. Stronger than me — and I hated admitting that. With all certainty, one of the most powerful humans I knew. And stupid in unique and equivalent proportions. The same scale of strength applied to idiocy, as though the universe had decided that for every kilogram of power it was necessary to remove a gram of brain. The energy he radiated was enough to suffocate most people in a room, and he made a point of not controlling it.
Leonidas was someone who deserved to be on my team. Honestly, to me it was a waste to place him with Viego — my cousin already had the strength, already had everything a combat team needed in excess. What he had in surplus was exactly what I had in shortage. That man was what I needed: someone with the strength to be the front line and fill a perfect role in my formation. But father, for reasons he refused to explain, thought it better to leave him for another.
Viego approached the white-haired man — who hadn't moved, hadn't stood up, hadn't demonstrated absolutely anything before an entrance that would have frightened any normal person — and placed his hand on his shoulder.
"What's up, handsome." Viego's smile was the kind that precedes trouble. "How about we do a spar to decide if you deserve to be on my team or not?"
I opened my mouth to intervene.
There wasn't time.
"So you're the one I have to beat up to take command of the team."
The words came out calm.
Calm like the surface of a lake before something very large rises from below.
Rose and I opened our eyes to the point of nearly leaving our faces. Viego stood still for a few seconds — the hand still on the man's shoulder, the smile frozen on his face, the brain processing whether he had heard right.
"HAHAHAHAHAHA!" Viego's laugh shook the room. "Sure! Beat me and I'll lick your shoe myself!"
In a few seconds, everything that was going well seemed to spin. My cousin wasn't known for going easy — in truth, he was known for exactly the opposite. And the last thing I wanted was to hurt the man who saved my sister.
"Wait, Viego!" My voice came out sharp. "What do you think you're doing—"
Before I could finish, the white-haired man raised his hand. A minimal gesture. Almost lazy. But that silenced everything.
"Don't worry." He said, his eyes already on Viego's. "Animals are trained. Not talked to."
The silence that followed lasted an eternity compressed into two seconds.
Viego stopped laughing.
My cousin's face went red — not from embarrassment, from a rage I knew all too well and that always, always ended with someone on the ground. My body went limp. Rose pressed the tablet against her chest. And my mind, which seconds ago was assembling war strategies, could now only think of one thing:
"What the fuck just happened here?"