User:Xepscern/Perspective

I learned, long ago, that you can't trust people who talk big.

Hidden in the shadows, I watch him fight the endless stream of manikins. One by one, he swats them away like crystaline insects. They're dazzling forms, once unmistakable humanoid silhouettes, shatter into a cascade of glass spears. As dangerous as they were beautiful, these manakins where the original focus of my speculation, but after nearly a half hour of fighting, I could see the true weapon in front of me.

Barbarus. Apt name. Probably chose it himself. Maybe it was what the villagers called him when they chased him away with torches and pitchforks. However he got his name, it fit him like a glove. Clearly from an era as old and archaic as his morals. And his mind.

Calling Barbarus simply "strong" would be an insult; before we met, I never realized one could make their own body as unstoppable as this. Seemingly unmodified either genetically nor mechanically, my probes and questions about how he got so powerful just left me more baffled. Somehow, he was able to achieve such power through mother nature and sheer gumption.

And yet, I don't fear him.

Individuals who talk big only do so because they can't do anything else. Driven by pure emotion, they would rather smash and ask questions later then approach the situation with any forethought. People like Bararus, full of spirit but empty in sense, would rather scream, punch, and measure pride then find a better solution.

Mere men would treble before Barbarus. Sadly for him, we aren't surrounded by mere men. As powerful as he is, there's always someone more powerful, pound for pound, than you somewhere. And if Barbarus ever met that person, he wouldn't know how to face him outside of throwing punches. When your only weapon is fire, something as simple as a pond can beat you..

And it's what makes him so easy to beat.

Barbarus walks up to me, having shattered the last manikin within eyesight. "Some help you were."

"Didn't look like you needed any."

"So, that's your plan? Ride the asses of other, stronger people here?"

"Do you think you're stronger than me?" I quickly ask, finding my first crack in his argument.

"Yes." Blunt as ever.

"So I would just get in the way." I smirk back, waiting to see any kind of response. Instead, Barbarus just sighed, walking a few paces away. I walk toward him, thinking the conversation is over.

"Delta... do you think you could kill me?"

I try my best to not look surprised. "Why do you ask that?"

"Just wondering. Figured you would be pretty tough considering you were a chosen warrior."

"Thank you for the compliment," I say, feigning modesty. "And no, I don't I could."

"Yeah, I don't think you could either," he says curtly, and continues walking. I follow behind, now knowing I had found the perfect ally.

Barbarus is tough, there's no doubt about it. The fact is, in a tough-to-tough brawl, he would mop the floor with me. He could kill me at any time. But he won't.

I can tell my seeds are already planted in his mind. He thinks I'm his friend. He thinks I'm going to watch his back no matter the case, and ensure his safety. Hell, he probably think I find him as a friend. And he probably doesn't think that when I'm done with him, I will easily dispose of him.

A few taunts and pulling at his emotions would be all it would take to send him berserk. As tenacious as he is, he lacks discipline and focus. I can manipulate his thoughts and feelings enough to discourage and weaken his moral. After that, a cakewalk to victory.

It's sad, in a way. He's built himself to be the ultimate weapon. But that's all he'll ever be: a weapon. A tool to be used by others.

He doesn't realize that we are not equal.

And that I have the upper-hand.

Never trust those who talk small. I don’t remember who told me that, but I’ve kept it close to my heart my entire life. From my own experiences, I’ve learned that the best people, or at least the most truthful and honest, were the ones who talked the most. People who talked the most were open and easy to read. People who talked less we’re lying or trying to hide something. Fewer words meant fewer chances to get caught. If someone wants to talk to you, but hardly says anything, they’re more looking to investigate you. I have seen many people talk small, and they were all the same: arrogant, untrustworthy, and cowardly. And watching Delta talk to the other warriors confirmed my suspicion that he was a man who talked small. Delta. Even the name sounded cold and small.

I stand back and watch Delta approach one of our own, knowing exactly where the conversation will go. It would be wrong for me to say that I watched Delta talk to the other warriors; it would be wrong because Delta didn’t really talk. Whenever he was asked a question, he would spin it around and dodge giving a straight answer. He would goad and mock the other person into frustration, repeating himself and talking less about what they asked him and more about what he wanted to know. Eventually, the opposing party would say something that didn’t mean to say, and Delta would leap like a lion onto the prey. He would use that information to get more information, not stopping until it seemed he was ready to write the other’s life story. And two outcomes would always come from this: either the other person runs away or tries to fight him with physical force. And he knows this. One of the common things I’ve seen from people who talk small is how they aren’t as strong as the ones they anger. One on one, they would not only loss a fight, but quickly. Taunting someone that you know would kill you is a dangerous game. They get around this by angering their opposition and playing mind tricks. They let their opponents think less of them and underestimate them, showing themselves as weaker than they are. I’ve seen many people who talk small beat opponents ten times their size, all because they planned it out well. Delta is powerful, I’ll give him that. His magics are mesmerizes, and he’s clearly a master at what he does. If he were to face a normal person, he would destroy them in seconds. But we’re not among normal people. He’s toying with people who were selected to fight a war. That’s why he is talking so small. He’s trying to undermine people who are more dangerous than him.

And I think that’s what is going to kill him. As much as he preys on people and their arrogance, Delta is quite arrogant himself. The very fact he chose me to walk with shows that he thinks he can boss me around and call the shots. In our time together, he’s never been nervous, and doesn’t seem to consider the danger he’s in. There’s no way this is an act; no nervous man can act calm for this long. No, he thinks he can win. He thinks he has us all as his puppets. I stop myself from underestimating him, because I know that’s what he wants. I know he’s dangerous, and if I let him get to me, he will kill me. I watch as the warrior he was talking to runs off, frustrated. Delta walks back to me, smiling. He may have made another enemy, but he now knows more than he did before. “Why did he run off?” I ask, playing dumb.

“Beats me,” he says, playing dumber. “I just wanted to know if he thought we had a chance to win.” Technically, he isn’t lying. But I know the conversation went into way more detail. Never lying, but never telling the whole truth. I don’t want him to be suspicious of me. Best to play stupid.

“Why wouldn’t we?”

“Best not to get cocky, Barbarus,” he said. I couldn’t help myself but laugh at the irony of him calling me cocky. “Oh? What’s so funny?”

“Oh, just think it’s funny you think the others have a chance.”

He puts all his attention on me. He looks at me like he looks at anyone else he trying to interrogate. “Barbarus, do you think you could kill me?”

“Easily,” I say, not lying.

“Then why don’t you?”

“Why should I? We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“Good answer,” he says smugly, turning around and walking forward. “And thank you for not killing me.” I follow behind, letting him lead the way. The trick I’ve learned with dealing with small talkers is to not lie. Be as open as possible. I’ve told him everything I know. To him, I’m just a dumb bodyguard, worthless for information but useful as a shield.

He thinks he has me. He thinks that I don’t realize his game. He thinks that I am just one of his dumb friends. He thinks I’m disposable. And as soon as he thinks he doesn’t need me anymore, or that I’m plotting against him, he’ll try to kill me.

I can’t underestimate him. I can’t let him get to me. He can kill me. He knows this. I know this. But I don’t think he knows that I know this. For all his plotting, he never considers that I could be as smart as him.

He doesn’t realize that I have the upper hand.