“‘A sleeping giant’?” His mouth moved slowly as he repeated the phrase back to his opposite, a four armed, tendril-mouthed alien in a blue form-fitting outfit. “That is what the galaxy thinks of us?”

“Not all, I assure you, judging by your tone, ambassador.” The man scratches his head, sighing. “We fought several-“

“You forget your police actions and interventions on behalf of weaker species, your… ‘covert operations’ behind certain opponents lines, and more. Your people are more experienced in warfare both within and without than a handful of the oldest races combined. You have the capability to destroy whole nations in week, months or less. Yet, you refuse to unless given a reason, what we ask of you- is that reason” the alien pointed out, its head nodding and its tendrils squirming as it spoke.

“You want an entire fleet near the conflict zone? Is that right? You want us to be the galaxy’s policeman, more like!” The ambassador laughed. “That never ends well, hence our-“

“We are all aware, but are willing to provide necessary as needed advice and resources if need be to aid you in this. You are well regarded by most races, I’ve told you before.” The old man sighed, rubbing his face.

“Very well, I’ll take this to my government. I’ll see if I can pull some strings.” The ambassador nodded.

A day later

The Liberty Carrier Strike Group had jumped into the conflict zone. Immediately, all sides stopped fighting as human fighter squadrons escorted aid shuttles to the surface of beleaguered planets and moons. There were peace talks a day later with the humans standing guard. Rumors of ‘human operators’ surfaced again on the galactic network as wanted war criminals (recently former officers, politicians, and arms merchants plus their subordinates) were found dead or disappeared from existence for a time.

The Terran Confederation Armed Forces became the galaxy’s foremost military interventionist by popular opinion. Though many within the Confederation were frightened with said power and insight

“Oh my god, it can do that?!” I asked in shock. The smith nodded. My jaw dropped and I didn’t know whether to give the sword back or to hold it close. I was holding a fucking nuke.

“Are you ok, Sean-sama?” Satsuki the smith asked. I gave her a glare. “I said ‘so sharp it can split anything but can only be used by me’. I told her. She rubbed her neck before nodding. “Hai! I did! It’s so sharp it can split atoms and only you can use it!” She giggled. I can’t tell if it was a joke or she thought I was happy.

Suddenly my Geiger counter started to spike. I looked up, groaning. Fuuuuuuuuuu-

(Rewrote this several times)

“So, how in the name of our Pantheon did you fall in love with our nation’s patroness. Surely you didn’t seduce her.” The lawyer says with a smirk.

“Considering the fact that not one of your kids looks like you, I’ll pretend to answer: I haven’t the foggiest.” Gasps were made at my remark and the lawyer glared as his wife hid her- oh fuck it’s true! Shit! “It’s true! I have no idea! All I did was pray and-“ I snapped. “It happened! Don’t look at me, I didn’t even know it was happening!”

The judge rubbed his face as he considered all the implications. My crops did well. The rent on time, everything was good. I think.

“What did you pray for, sirrah?”

“I prayed for a pretty wife, good crops, and at least a prosperous life. That, and I’d offer up my life as pay-“ I paused. No- that wasn’t it. Ohhh boy. “I offered her my firstborn,” I rubbed my face.

“Oh my gods,” the judge sighed as everyone in the courtroom facepalmed. My wife was in the back holding our newborn son, blushing.

“Your marriage is valid, but please note that while you are entitled to divine spousal privileges- please do no get us all killed.” The judge warned. I gulped.

“A Glock! You can’t go wrong with a Glock.” The Druid said, showing off the piece with pride while aiming it in the air. The gathered council raised a brow with the elf and the dwarf stepping back. “And… what does it do?”

“It’s like a self-firing bow: your accuracy determines if you hit or miss. But,” he ticked a button, releasing the mag, holding it. “It needs ammunition. I’ve got twelve crates of mags or ‘clips’ of ammunition, but I could only get the one gun. I’ve got the specs, so you can forge it, but you’re going to need magnesium or some kind of blasting powder the orcs use.” The Druid explain. The elf purses his lips as the wizard facepalmed.

“Gary, can I talk to you for a minute?”

“What the fuck are you thinking? That technology won’t be made for thousands of years and you think it funny to bring back a Glock from the future?!” The wizard roared. “Next time, get a nuke and blow us all to the afterlife, why don’t you?!”

Ten years ago, as my power and skill grew, the old bastards and con artists decided it would be a fun idea to send a kid. Not a teenager, not an adult, not an old-ass man like themselves, but a child to kill me.

First of all, incredibly stupid and evil. This kid was eleven! They gave him a tad bit of training, a claymore (who the fuck gives a kid a claymore?! You don’t train with it until you’re strong enough!), chain mail, some companions his own age or older (again, super dumb. So dumb I want to strangle the old geezers with my bare hands), and some supplies. As soon as I heard this, I went off to meet them, there was no way, no goddamn way this was real! And then they attacked me. The archer girl lost all the arrows, dwarf guy they must have hired from a gang tried to hammer my knees in when all I had to do was bonk him on the helmet with the butt of my sword hard, and their healer ran for the hills, leaving the kid.

I rose my brow under my helm as he tried to attack me, dodging every strike. Points for tenacity, points taken away for lack of discipline and swordsmanship. He had to drag the damn blade to try to hit me. I grabbed his arm and took my helm off. I shook my head. “No,” I told him. “If we’re going to do this right, we’re doing this properly. And that sword is too big!” I jerked my head at him. I turned to the guards. “Gather them all, we’re investigating this.” I told them

“‘Greenvale’?! I’m from Oak Ridge, literally over you folks. Last I heard, the King was onto those old conmen.” I told him. He looked at me. “What? I had a life before being the Night Warden of the West.” I told him. “The council-“the kid said. “Are frauds. The chief one of them- Gard, right? He got busted 20 years ago for defrauding a nobleman and the King’s own mom to boot. His second in command was tossed in prison for being a literal thug-which explains the dwarf.” I rubbed my chin. The kid looked heartbroken, all he told- a lie. I sighed. “How about…” I paused. He told me his story….shit. His parents died of the plague, then he got taken to the orphanage the Council of Righteousness had. Why is it a lot of these good-sounding organizations tend to sound like goddamn fronts for something shitty?!

I sighed, rubbing my head. Well, time to see what I could do.

ten years later

The councilors were kneeling on a line in the Night Warden’s dungeon, their heads bowed and their arms tied with rope. “I told you Gard! I told you it wouldn’t work! Now we’re all dead!” One hissed. “Shut it, Rob- I have a-“ the men looked up at the entrance to see a tall blonde kid, 20 years old, with a sheathed short sword, chainmail, and looking very much like the kid they sent to kill the Night Warden, a man onto their scheme. “Don’t. Say. One. Word.” The kid snarled. “I know what you punks did,” he growled. The smell of waste hit the air as the Night Warden came in. “You all should have stayed in the Royal Dungeons. Now- you deal with us.” The Night Warddn said, crossing his arms.