The Nerd Luko

Melodie could still taste blood in her mouth from where she'd bitten him.

Her wrists throbbed from the rough restraints, and the metal collar around her neck was tight and unforgiving. The warriors who had chained her up had since moved away, standing guard outside the hut, but she could feel their eyes on her. Watching. Waiting.

Leaning her head back against the wooden post, she closed her eyes for a moment, forcing her breath to slow. She needed a plan.

But all she could think about was the lab.

Yesterday.

The military base.

Melodie slipped into a dream.

She knew it by the way reality stretched at the edges, how time didn't move quite right. But this wasn't just any dream.

It was a memory.

She was back in the caves with her unit.

Botswana. The mission. The search for a cure. The Cotard-Virus was devouring what was left of humanity, and their dwindling resources had forced them into desperate measures—chasing whispers of a rare mineral that could save them all.

Her team moved carefully, their boots scuffing against damp rock as they collected samples from the cave walls. Their voices were hushed, but the weight of desperation was suffocating.

Then—a flicker of light.

Melodie turned sharply, her heart quickening. It glowed at the edge of her vision, further into the cavern. Something about it called to her.

She stepped forward.

The tunnel opened into a massive underground chamber, and at its center lay a pool of water, unnaturally still, glowing softly as if lit from beneath.

It was impossible.

She leaned over, staring into its depths. The light seemed to pull at her, an invisible force beckoning her closer.

Then—her foot slipped.

She fell, crashing against the edge of the pool before she was swallowed whole by darkness.

Melodie jolted awake.

Her breath came hard and fast, the dream fading too quickly for her liking. For a moment, she was still in the cave. Still drowning.

But reality came crashing back.

She wasn't in Botswana. She wasn't in her world.

The shouting outside the barred door reminded her of that.

The fortress. The prison.

A metallic clank rang through the corridor as guards barked orders at the captives, forcing them awake.

Melodie's body tensed.

A small, trembling hand gripped her sleeve.

She turned and saw the same little girl from last night, the one who had risked herself to free her.

Her face was pale with fear.

Melodie bent down slightly, steadying her with a hand on her shoulder. Don't be afraid. Stay quiet.

Footsteps approached.

The guard from before—the one who had tripped her—grinned as he stopped in front of her cage.

Melodie stood tall, meeting his eyes with an unwavering stare.

He smirked, then without warning, swung the door open and grabbed her by the arm. She yanked away, but he was already pulling her forward, dragging her out of the cell and into the corridor.

The little girl let out a muffled gasp.

"Stay put," Melodie whispered quickly before the door slammed shut behind her.

She barely took two steps before the guard stuck his leg out, tripping her.

She went down hard, her knees slamming into the cold stone floor.

A shadow fell over her.

Her gaze traveled up—past the gleaming silver armor, past the fur-lined cloak, until she met the icy, calculating stare of that elf man with the strange silver colored hair.

Her stomach clenched, but she refused to look away.

The silence stretched between them.

Then—his eyes flicked toward the guard. A silent command.

Rough fingers tangled in her hair, yanking her up onto her knees before she could react.

Pain flared across her scalp. Her vision blurred with fury.

She was going to kill someone.

A low, amused hum drew her attention away from the pain.

Another figure had appeared at his side—a man with golden eyes and light brown hair, his expression one of deep curiosity. The pale one crouched down beside her, murmuring something in their foreign tongue.

Melodie tensed as his hand brushed against her uniform, pinching the fabric between his fingers.

He was studying her.

No. Not just her. Her clothing.

He said something to to the brown haired on with glasses, his tone cold and unreadable.

Melodie clenched her jaw.

Was dark skin really that strange to them?

Then, to her shock, the golden-eyed man spoke again—this time, in Chinese.

"Nǐ néng lǐjiě ma?"

Melodie's pulse skipped. She recognized the language, but she didn't speak it fluently.

The man watched her closely. Then, he tried again.

"Verstehst du?"

German.

A test.

Melodie's patience snapped. She snarled back in German, "Ich werde dich töten!"

'I will kill you'.

It wasn't planned. The words just came out.

The reaction was instant.

The golden-eyed man flinched, startled. A ripple of murmurs spread through the surrounding guards.

The one holding her delivered a hard kick to her ribs.

Pain exploded through her side as she gasped, curling forward.

The tall pale one remained unmoved, but his companion—clearly shaken—straightened, speaking rapidly in their strange language.

One word kept repeating.

"Canariae."

Melodie committed it to memory. It sounded Latin.

She focused as the golden-eyed man turned back to her and, in broken German, spoke again.

"Du sprichst diese menschliche Sprache der Sklaven?"

Her mind sharpened.

'You speak this human language of the slaves?'

Slaves?

So, German was a language of captives here. That meant he likely only knew basic phrases—enough to communicate with prisoners.

Which meant he should know English, too.

She tested him. "I speak many human languages."

The golden-eyed man's face lit up, genuine excitement sparking in his expression.

"For a field Canariae, you are very intelligent," he remarked, his English slightly clumsy.

Field Canariae.

Melodie narrowed her eyes.

She repeated the word. "Canariae. What is that?"

His expression remained polite, but there was amusement in his eyes.

"That is what we call your kind."

Melodie was about to demand more, but the slver haired one finally gave a slow, approving nod.

The golden-eyed man gestured to the guards.

"Miro veruko ser nom."

The guards picked her up and took her towards the corridors.

Melodie was led into a vast chamber lined with books, globes, and tools of study. Unlike the rest of the fortress, this room wasn't built for war. It was built for knowledge.

She was forced onto a stool, two guards standing at her sides with weapons drawn.

The golden-eyed man observed her closely.

"You understand these words, yes?" he asked in German.

Melodie scowled, but answered. "Yes."

He smiled. "I am Luko."

She didn't return the introduction.

Instead, she lifted her chin and demanded, "Why am I a prisoner?"

Luko barely glanced up. "You do not need to fear. I am here to study you."

Her hands fisted at her sides.

He gestured at her uniform. "Is this what your civilization wears?"

"I refuse to answer anything else until you tell me where I am and who the hell you are."

Luko sighed. He whispered something to the guards, and they retied her wrists.

"You are in a border territory. The Commader and I are tasked with controlling the feral Canariae population that disrupts our lands. You were mistaken for one."

Melodie's blood ran cold.

"What happens to Canariae?" she asked.

Luko's pen scratched against parchment.

"They are rare. Used as labor or entertainment. You, however, are unique."

He looked up at her and smirked.

"You will likely become a pet."

Melodie gritted her teeth.

"Let them try."

She reached for the sharpest object on the table, hiding it in her waistband.

They wouldn't keep her caged for long.

The Commander's sharp tan colored eyes that sparked with a glint of weariness stared out over the land, watching as the sun began to dip toward the horizon, casting long shadows over the hills. The borderlands.

How much longer would he have to stay here?

This was not his home. His home was deep within the snowy mountains where his family lived for generation in solitary peace. Here, all he had were Canariae raids, dust storms, and endless war.

His people's numbers were dwindling.

The Awyan were long-lived, their lifespans stretching over centuries, but their birthrates had plummeted over the last thousand years. The careful, methodical eugenics programs of the past had produced a physically perfect species—beautiful, strong, resilient. But at what cost?

Females barely reproduced.

Whereas the Canariae bred like wild beasts.

He was afraid that one day, for every one Awyan birth, there were at least twenty feral Canariae.

It was disgusting. The thought of these filthy creatures outnumbering his people filled him with quiet rage. Some had even begun to whisper that one day the Awyan would disappear entirely, that the world would be overrun with these pests.

Not while he still drew breath.

He exhaled slowly, rubbing his temples. The weight of command was suffocating. He always thought that once he climbed high enough in rank, once he had power, he would feel something.

Instead, he just felt… empty.

His wheat colored eyes flickered back to the courtyard below.

A group of nude, filthy Canariae captives were being hosed down with buckets of cold water, their screams ringing in the open air.

Except for one.

The troublesome one.

The dark-skinned one.

She wasn't screaming. She was fighting.

He narrowed his eyes, watching as Melodie twisted the arm of a guard who had attempted to strip her. Her stance was sharp, controlled. She didn't just flail like a wild animal—she calculated every move.

Another guard swung at her with a long wooden rod, but Melodie reacted instantly, dodging so that the strike slammed into another soldier instead.

Clever.

Now she was at the center of five guards, her back against the stone wall. She was disarmed, outnumbered, and yet… she was holding them back.

Luko, who had been watching from a distance, let out a small laugh.

"This Canariae is like a wild boar," he mused.

The Commander tensed at the comment as he walked up to Luko.

"Even boars can be tamed," he said coldly before turning sharply on his heel.

Enough.

Melodie was breathing hard, sweat and dirt clinging to her skin. The five guards around her looked frustrated and bruised. She had already taken down two, and the other three were hesitating now, uncertain.

Cowards.

They had never fought someone like her before. They weren't prepared.

She wasn't prepared either, though. Her muscles ached, and the fight was slowly catching up to her.

Then—a voice cut through the noise.

Deep. Commanding.

She barely turned her head before a boot collided with her face.

The impact sent her stumbling back, her vision flashing white.

By the time she regained her footing, strong arms wrapped around her, locking her in place.

NO.

She screamed, kicking and thrashing, but his grip was ironclad.

More hands grabbed at her, binding her legs, her wrists. A blindfold was pulled over her eyes, swallowing her world in darkness.

"GET OFF ME!!"

She was done with this.

Surprisingly, the Commander's voice was gentle. He spoke in his language, but the tone…

It was the way someone spoke to a misbehaving pet.

Her blood boiled.

Then—a smell.

Something sweet. Strange.

She felt light-headed.

I've been drugged.

Her body went weak, her head falling against her captor's chest as her mind started fading in and out.

She was still awake. Still aware.

But… helpless.

Then—walking.

Carried.

The air grew colder.

Then—wet.

SPLASH.

Melodie gasped, her body shocked awake by the icy water. She twisted, flailing in confusion, trying to get her bearings.

Her blindfold was still on.

Then—hands.

Holding her. Steadying her.

A voice. Male. Calm.

"Ly ly ly unore."

Then, the blindfold was removed.

Melodie blinked rapidly, her vision adjusting.

She was in… a bathhouse?

A massive wooden tub filled with cool water sat at the center of the room. The walls were made of smooth stone, lit by flickering lanterns. The air was thick with steam, the scent of herbs and minerals lingering in the air.

He sat beside the tub on a wooden stool, watching her with unreadable eyes.

Then, without looking at her, he dropped a glowing rock into the tub.

Melodie stiffened as the water around her began to… bubble.

HE'S COOKING ME.

The thought was stupid, but panic was starting to override reason.

But then—the temperature evened out.

The warmth seeped into her aching muscles, soothing her without her permission.

Her eyelids felt heavy.

The drug was still in her system, slowing her movements.

Then—the door opened.

Luko stepped inside, his golden eyes bright with amusement as he took in the sight before him.

"May Jor Jasson."

Melodie scowled, too exhausted to correct him.

Luko gave her a pleased smile, then turned to Malec, speaking in their native tongue. They exchanged a few words before Luko turned back to her.

"Do not worry," he said smoothly. "You are temporarily drugged to keep you calm. The effects will wear off in a few hours."

Melodie barely heard him.

Her mind drifted, her body weak as the one with strange beige eyes reached forward, washing her hair.

Her fingers curled into weak fists, but there was nothing she could do.

Luko leaned against the table, studying her carefully as he asked his next question.

"Where are you from?"

Melodie's head lolled to the side as she mumbled, "I don't know… not here."

A pause. Then—both men exchanged glances.

Luko continued, writing in his notes.

"How did you get here?"

"Is there anyone else like you?"

Melodie's responses slowed. Her head felt heavier. Her body sank into the warm water, her breathing slowing.

Luko sighed, closing his book. "She's losing consciousness."

The pale haired one gave a curt nod, then reached forward, lifting her out of the bath.

She barely registered as he wrapped a soft cloth around her, drying her hair.

Then, with no hesitation, he picked her up.

Melodie's eyes flickered open just enough to see the sharp outline of his jaw, his tan eyes glinting as he turned to a nearby guard.

"Mior vi dura ji"

Then—darkness.