War of Drekis, Rearmed - Chapter 1: Advent

[Justin Law]

Chapter 1: Advent

 

Segment 1: The Calm Before the Storm

“Whoa… pretty…” The picturesque landscape of the Karia Valley – with its lush forests, pristine meadows, and shimmering lakes was a sight that young Justin Cale had lived with over his 10 years. But no matter how many times he beheld this majestic vista, it never failed to fill him with awe; and the morning sun perched high in the sky was the chef’s kiss – painting a picture-perfect scene of paradise as he took in the view with his childlike wonder.

It was one of the few regions on the Khazanian Mainland that to date had remained untouched by the encroachment of urbanisation and industrialisation; the inhabitants of the region living in scattered rural communities that continue to preserve their ancestors’ rustic way of life, content with making a humble and honest living working on farms, orchards and ranches.

The serene, rustic scene of this remote rural region of the Republic of Zel’Mier – a state-kingdom of considerable wealth and power – contrasted starkly with the chaos taking place in its metropolitan areas, which for the last five years were a hotbed of insurgent activities, as discontentment towards the self-appointed president for life, Ignacio Delagon’s increasingly authoritarian rule reached its boiling point.

As of several weeks ago, the half-decade of civil war between the revolutionaries and Delagon regime loyalists finally came to head as the dictator and his cronies were ousted from power after years of bitter fighting. But for the beleaguered populace, the relief was short-lived with the revelation that the revolution was instigated and backed by the villainous organisation known as The Marauders.

Acting on the orders of their cold and ruthless leader, Toc Darkone, the Marauders now hold the nation’s seat of power in Zel’Mier and unimpeded access to the state-kingdom’s wealth and resources. Far from being liberated, the populace had awakened from the nightmare of a police state to an even bigger nightmare of a mafia state.

It was cold comfort to the residents of the Karia Valley that the settlements in this remote province were too small and distant to be considered of importance to The Marauders, who at present have their hands full with consolidating power and stamping out residual resistance from loyalist remnants in the metropolitan centres and larger towns, which spared them from the worst of direct occupation under The Marauders.

However, this had not left them completely unmolested, as the villagers had seen their share of harassment and extortion at the hands of Marauder splatter punks who sporadically wander into the region, sometimes to ferret out loyalist remnants, but mostly to shake down the locals for protection money.

And villagers suspected of assisting loyalist holdouts – be it by harbouring resistance groups, or working for them as messengers or couriers – got the worst treatment from the splatter punks.

In order to avoid drawing unwanted attention from The Marauders or raising suspicions that they might be assisting loyalists of the former regime, the communities in the Karia Valley devised a set of rules – no travel unless absolutely necessary was to be made beyond the tight perimeter they’d drawn up around the Talana Intersection and Great Lakes region. And so far, this rule has minimised the degree of scrutiny they received from The Marauders, allowing them to maintain a degree of peace. 

However, Justin Cale – brimming with youthful energy and rebellious spirit – was never a stickler for rules. Frolicking in the shallows of a lake, the schools of trout that gathered shore darted away as Justin gathered some cool and crystal clear water into his palms and splashed his face with delight, throwing his head back in bliss as a refreshing breeze ruffled his brown hair.

“‘Don’t go beyond the first great lake, you’ll get hurt!’ Yeah right…” he said, mocking his overprotective mother as he foraged some wild blackberries from a nearby patch of brambles, snacking on the fruits. “There’s nothing bad around here. The kids back in town don’t know what they’re missing here. I should get some others to come here, then we could play around and there would be no one to stop us.”

The faint rumbling of wheels and thudding of hooves snapped the boy out of his reverie as he placed a hand over his brow and squinted his eyes to see what was coming down the dirt track. The sound of hoofbeats was a relief to Justin as he knew that no Marauder would ever use such a primitive means of transportation by choice, reassuring him that it was likely someone from another village.

A wooden stagecoach, decorated with red flags and towed by two gray mares loomed into view. Seated at the front was a familiar sight – a tall middle-aged man with dirty blonde shoulder-length hair and a five o’clock shadow, dressed in a travel-worn duster coat and topped off with an old Stetson hat. The boy smiled, knowing the driver could only be one man.  

“Mr. Drake!” Justin squealed with delight as the man brought the horses pulling the stagecoach to a stop, skipping down the dirt track to meet with the man who is a friend of his family and whom he’d come to see as an uncle-like figure in his life. The man is a simple trader who wandered from village to village peddling wares; where the villagers used to treat his services as a novelty, with the Marauder occupation cutting off logistic convoys from the cities, now his services were considered essential.

“Hey there Justin, what are you doing out here?” Drake smiled as he got off from the driver’s seat to greet Justin with a tip of his hat, though his smile quickly faded as his tone became grim. “You're too close to the red line for your own good; I recall your folks saying that no-one should travel past the first Great Lake unless absolutely necessary.”

 “The new rules are stupid, Drake! What do I have to fear from The Marauders anyway?” Justin pouted as he folded his arms over his chest. “They're just a bunch of simple crooks, if I met one, I'll–” in a juvenile display of bravado, the young brunette lifted his fists acting like a heavyweight boxer, throwing a few clumsy punches at the air while making hissing sounds before Drake stopped him with a firm pat on his shoulder.  

“Now, now, your parents are gonna get worried if they know you’ve headed out here, it’s best that I give you a lift back to town,” the travelling merchant climbed back onto the driver’s seat of his stagecoach, shifting to the left to make room for Justin as he gestured for the boy to get on next to him. “And besides, I could show you some of the cool stuff I’ve gotten along the way.”

The young brunette smiled as he reached for Drake’s outstretched hand as the merchant offered to pull him up onto the driver’s seat next to him. 

The wholesome moment was shattered by the abrupt crack of gunshots. The first one hit the ground mere inches away from the stagecoach’s wheels, stirring up a plume of dirt, then three more tore through the wooden cabin. Spooked, the horses kicked and bucked in panic as Drake tugged on the reins with all his might as he fought to keep the terrified animals from going into uncontrolled flight as Justin tumbled onto the dirt, the rough gravel and pebbles scraping his arms as he fell.

As Drake struggled to process the situation, yet another gunshot came, this time with a bullet slamming square onto his right shoulder as he fell out of the driver’s seat with a pained cry and hit the dirt with a dull thud.

The suddenness and ferocity of the attack, along with the sight of Drake bleeding on the ground left Justin paralysed with fear, his breathing fast and ragged as he looked around for the attackers. The nearby thickets parted, revealing a trio consisting of two women – a brunette in tactical gear and a younger, blue-haired one in a fancy Japanese sailor suit uniform – alongside a slug-like creature, the latter grinning smugly as he held a Cobray MAC-11 in his right hand, a faint wisp of smoke still rising from its muzzle.

“Justin....” Drake groaned as he struggled to sit up, clutching his wounded shoulder as rivulets of blood seeped between his fingers and all over his clothes. The man’s agonised groan snapped Justin out of his state of shock as he rushed over to Drake’s side.

Meanwhile, with no one holding the reins to keep the horses under control the panicking equines broke into a full gallop in an attempt to get away, but the blue-haired girl in the serafuku stepped forward with a giggle and raised her hands, the horses immediately freezing in mid-stride as their muscles seized up under the effects of an electrostatic field generated by the girl.    

“Mr. Drake! Are you alright? C’mon! Get up, we need to get outta here!” The boy tugged at Drake's coat in an attempt to pull him back onto his feet, but the merchant wrenched Justin’s hands off him with his own bloodstained hand, shaking his head.

“Justin, don’t worry about me… run as fast as you can to the village… tell the others about the Marauders!” the merchant mumbled, pointing in the direction of the town as the remaining two Marauders – the tactical brunette and the slug-creature slowly advanced with sinister intent. 

“But… but...” Justin stammered, trying to protest against leaving his uncle-like figure behind.

“GO NOW!” Drake yelled with his last bit of strength, ordering the boy to flee.

The young boy took off without looking back, trailing a stream of tears behind him as he raced up the hills towards his village. As he ran, he thought only of his friend, and prayed that the Marauders wouldn’t kill him. 

“Take whatever you want… but please, spare my life,” Drake pleaded as the slug-thing joined the sailor suit girl in looting the wares stashed on board his stagecoach, rummaging through the cabin and rifling through the contents of the storage trunks.

“For a moment I thought he might’ve been one of them loyalists’ errand boys… turns out he really is a simple trader after all!” The slug-like creature spat as he presented his spoils. It was the usual stuff that rural farmers might order; seeds to plant fresh crops, replacement parts for farming equipment, utility clothing, and some sweet treats for the kids.

“Well, I’ll take these at least,” the girl with blue twintails chuckled as she grabbed a candy bar, tearing the wrapper before sinking her teeth into the chocolate-covered treat. “Ugh, peanuts!” her eyes squeezed shut as her lips puckered at the disagreeable texture of groundnuts in her mouth, before vehemently spitting out the mouthful of candy bar she’d taken. “I hate peanuts!” she growled as she leapt off the wagon together with the slug-guy.

“Stupid man, you made us come all the way here for nothing,” The brunette woman, appearing to be in her 20’s, chimed in as she sauntered over to the wounded merchant, raising her weapon – a Beretta ARX160 assault rifle – and took aim at the man’s chest.

“Then again, maybe not,” the blue-haired teen interjected as she held up her phone, currently showing a mapping app of their current location. “We’re within walking distance of the village of Karia.”

“Karia, huh?” the brunette commented, her expression concealed behind the half-piece ballistic mask that covered the lower half of her face. “Well, I suppose waltzing over to Karia to collect protection money — I mean, taxes — from the villagers would be more profitable than robbing some crusty old merchant.”

“What of him then?” The slug guy asked, pointing his submachine gun at the downed merchant.

“Leave him be,” the brunette replied with a nonchalant shrug. “He’s gonna bleed out anyway, no need to waste ammo on the likes of him.”

“You… scoundrels… you won’t get away with this…” Drake muttered as the trio turned around to walk away. “The Sentinels will learn of what happened here, and they’ll… they…” As soon as the Sentinels were mentioned, the Marauder trio stopped in their tracks to turn their attention back to the merchant.

“Sentinels, you say?” the slug guy asked, an evil sneer on his face as he slithered over to Drake, who was struggling to raise himself from the dirt. Without warning, the worm guy pivoted around to pistol-whip the man across the face with his gun, striking him in the cheekbone and knocking the man onto his side.

“Well, where are they then? They did nothing while Delagon and his cronies turned Zel’Myas into a dictatorship; doubt they’d do anything now either about the Marauder rule!” The slug-guy’s mocking laugh was quickly chorused by the laughter of the two female Marauders as they left Drake to bleed and began heading in the direction of Karia at a leisurely pace.

 

Segment 2: Sentinels Take The Stage

In his 47 years of life, Drake had never imagined that what started as a routine day of setting out to a remote village to peddle his wares would end up as a total disaster. In a matter of minutes, he’d found himself robbed of his wares, lost most of his earnings, and as a final “fuck you” from the Powers That Be, shot and left for dead by The Marauders.

Battling desperately to staunch the bleeding from his gunshot wound, Drake considered it to be a stroke of good luck that the Marauders hadn’t killed him there and then. But given how it wouldn't be long before he bled out anyway, calling that “good luck” might be pushing it. Writhing and groaning in agony, Drake lay face up in a puddle of his own blood as his strength began to leave him, his life flashing past his eyes.

Then he showed up. A tall and muscular figure, his cape flapping majestically in the wind and silhouetted against the late morning sun descended from the clouds.

“Are… are you an angel…?” In Drake's fading consciousness, the flapping cape behind him gave the descending figure the impression of an angel, perhaps sent by God to escort him to the Pearly Gates. But as the figure drew closer, the merchant realised it was no angel – but it was the next best thing to one.

“Captain… Khazan…” Drake murmured, forcing a smile. There was no mistaking that lantern-jawed face, short-buzzed black hair and chiseled, Greek god-esque physique encased within that iconic brightly-coloured bodysuit and boots, and that authoritative but reassuring smile. It was Trent Young, better known as “Captain Khazan”, one of Khazan’s most premier superheroes from the esteemed Sentinels of Liberty and Justice, aka. The SLJ.

“Take it easy, citizen,” Captain Khazan’s calming voice was deep and smooth as he carefully picked Drake up before procuring a transparent gel-like film from a utility pouch on his belt and plastered it onto the bullet. “Now, this might sting a little – but do hang in there.”

“Oh! God!” Drake screamed as a bolt of pain shot through his body as whatever Captain Khazan placed on him did its work, extracting the deformed bullet from his wound, and like a miracle the bleeding halted as the damaged tissue began to rapidly regenerate as the pain quickly faded, leaving him exhausted but pulled back from the jaws of death. “Thank you, Captain Khazan… I’m indebted to you. How did you do this anyway?”

“Think nothing of it, mister,” Came the Captain’s reassuring statement, raising the index and middle fingers of his right hand in a salute. “Regen Patch, latest in battlefield medicine by Kill-O-Matic Big Guns. A combination of surgical nanobots and artificial stem cells designed to provide emergency medical attention.”

“Alright, rest well and take it slow, let me know what happened down here,” Captain Khazan propped Drake under the shade of a nearby tree, ready to take the merchant’s statement.

“Marauders…” Drake replied, his voice still raspy from having survived the ordeal. There was a moment of silence as he retrieved a water canteen from his belt to take a drink. “Shot me up and looted my wares before leaving me for dead,” the merchant said as he pointed in the direction of Karia. “There’s three of them – a chatty brunette with a rifle, a spoiled blue-haired brat dressed like a magical girl, and some slug-like freak carrying more guns than I could shake a stick at, all headed towards town.”

“Thanks for the tip, citizen,” Captain Khazan smiled before tapping on a communication earpiece. “Captain Khazan to Sentinels Station India, we’ve got a Marauder attack in Karia Valley, the perpetrators are headed to the village of Karia; we might have civilians at risk. We’ve also got one wounded citizen on site in need of medical evac.”

“Ellen Grey here,” A youthful female voice chirped on the other end. “I got your coordinates, Captain – medical team is en route.”

Captain Khazan nodded. “I’m heading to Karia to stop the Marauders from causing any more damage, Grey. Could you patch me through to any nearby Sentinels nearby for backup? I'd appreciate any assistance I can get.”

“One moment, Captain, broadcasting…” Ellen’s voice came over the earpiece.

Seconds later, another female voice crackled over the comms, this one possessing an electronic, synthesised quality – hinting that the voice was produced by a digital voice box or text-to-speech translator, “Amy Coleman responding! It’s an honour to serve alongside the esteemed Captain Khazan! I wouldn't miss such a golden opportunity for anything in the world.”

“Shall we rendezvous on the hill at Karia’s outskirts?” Captain Khazan asked.

“Roger that! I'll see you there; Amy Coleman, over and out.” 

“Captain Khazan, signing off. Time to get busy!” With that, Trent pointed his fist towards the heavens as he took to the skies with a mighty leap, flying off in the direction of Karia’s outskirts.

 

Segment 3: Evil Reawakened

In the eyes of the Khazanian scientific community, there was no larger geographical feature on the planet than the Endless Caves. Even with extensive studies dating back generations and numerous expeditions to map its countless chambers and passageways, each time experts thought they had this massive subterranean domain figured out, the next expedition always revealed that they stretched deeper and further, earning this place its well-deserved name.

With its vast array of mineral wealth, strange structures and exotic crystals, the Endless Caves have long captured the wonder and dread of Khazanians. And ever since a great evil had claimed dominion over the labyrinthine depths a decade ago, the dread aspect was about to become far more pronounced. And said evil had a name — Drekis. 

Those who’ve crossed paths with him and lived to tell the tale referred to Drekis as The Devil Incarnate, although the exact nature of this being was far more complex, having long been the subject of numerous stories and accounts written over millennia, often contradicting with one another to the point it was all but impossible to differentiate the facts from the myths.

Some accounts described Drekis as a cosmic force, old as time itself, destined to bring about the destruction phase in the Great Balance, a never-ending cycle of creation, destruction and renewal.

Others claimed he was once a mere mortal, a truth-seeker with an insatiable thirst for knowledge and understanding of the inner workings of the cosmos. Experimenting with forbidden lore, he ascended into a higher state of existence but was driven mad by his newfound omnipotence.

And still others stated that he was an eldritch horror who existed outside the boundaries of time and space, who acted as he pleased for reasons beyond the comprehension of mortal minds.

The most widely-accepted account is the one kept in the annals of the Galactic Archives, the Ashlean Chronicles — which states that Drekis was originally the product of an experiment by a long-extinct and highly advanced precursor civilisation, but the details of this experiment, Drekis’ true purpose, and his relationship with his creators were lost to time.

All these conflicting accounts shared one chilling consistency — for the past eight centuries, likely far more, Drekis has wandered the galaxies, scouring every world of sentient life, and Khazan was his latest target. 

Drekis had been attracted to Khazan for a very important reason. It was a planet where the best of the best from across the cosmos gathered to compete in the universally-renowned combat promotion known as the Fantasy Powers League. A variety of powerful warriors, wizards, and espers could be found here, and their power was something that Drekis yearned to consume.

The opening stages of Drekis’ campaign on Khazan was conducted in secret; psychically reaching out to the weak-minded and morally bankrupt in the form of visions and fever dreams, Drekis lured them to his lair in the Endless Caves. Under promises of wealth and power beyond imagination, they entered Faustian Pacts to become Drekis’ sleeper agents known as Discordant Scions. 

Reintegrating themselves into society, Discordant Scions served as Drekis’ eyes and ears, even going so far as competing in the FPL — though their clashes with Khazan’s heroes invariably ended in failure. As a world where the forces of good and evil routinely vied for supremacy, powerful institutions like the Sentinels of Liberty and Justice and the Maniacal Heroes, alongside nefarious organisations such as The Marauders and The Fallen were a constant foil to Drekis’ ambitions.

Despite numerous setbacks, Drekis remained unfazed, knowing that time – all of eternity in fact – was on his side. But it never hurts to make bolder moves. Much bolder. And that was what Drekis did as he discarded the cloak and dagger to take up the hammer.

Taking his game to a whole new level, Drekis spent the last three years turning his dominion within the Endless Caves into a mighty fortress; day and night, pulsating hives spawned demonic minions as Drekis rebuilt his army, while envoys were sent to the far corners of the universe to call his dark generals known as Magisters back into action. Drekis felt certain that he now held all the cards, and sooner or later, it was time for him to play his hand.

Jon Avalon’s polished dress shoes tapped rhythmically against the umbricite flooring as he walked through the hallways of Drekis’ hive fortress with calculated strides that dripped confidence and purpose, passing by Deminite Workers reinforcing structures, pulsating hives spawning minions, and infernal forges.

Arriving at the cavernous hall that served as Drekis’ throne room, Jon dropped onto one knee as a show of respect, his head bowed. “Hail Drekis, I am here as you summoned and humbly await your orders.”

“Rise…” a faint whisper echoed from nowhere. 

Then the torches that lined the throne room – burning with a spectral blue flame – dimmed a notch as gray smoke poured in through vents in the walls and ceiling, gathering into a cloud in front of Avalon, and in the centre of the cloud a formless black figure writhed and pulsated, intermittently giving off arcs of red and white lightning.

“Impeccable timing as always, Jon ‘Darkenfire’ Avalon,” Drekis spoke, his voice sounding like thousands speaking at once; some male, others female, some discordant, others harmonious — all the voices blending together like a demonic choir. “Are you ready for your orders?” 

 “Yes, Eminent One,” Jon replied as he rose. “But don’t mind if I comment that you looked a lot different from the last time I saw you.”

Drekis’ amorphous form took on a semblance of a smile as he spoke, “My new form will take time to stabilise, during which I am admittedly… vulnerable. But with you leading my armies on the frontlines, that should not be a problem.”

“You flatter me with your confidence in my abilities, my Archon,” Jon smiled, bowing to Drekis. “I’m certain the other generals will promise you no less. The troops you have allocated to me stand ready, and our spies have thoroughly mapped out the surrounding localities. With the element of surprise on our side, our enemies will stand no chance.”

 “Ah, confident as always Avalon,” the Archon snickered, his form pulsating with excitement. “Very well, you may begin your attacks at your own discretion. As long as you follow the plan.”

“Of course, Your Eminence. From the moment I set foot on Khazan your Phantom Sorcerers have briefed me,” Jon nodded, “We will keep the League of the Mentally Unstable busy with surprise attacks on their facilities, while stretching the Sentinels thin by striking Khazan’s cities. While they have their hands full, we will launch the campaign to take Zel’Mier.”

“Good, seems like my confidence in you was not misplaced. Do not fail me, Jon!” The shapeless cloud that is Drekis’ current body quivered as he laughed in his chilling legion-like voice that echoed through the hallways and chambers of his vast fortress complex, his voice growing fainter by the second as the cloud of smoke dissipated, until Jon Avalon was left alone in the throne room as the torches brightened back a notch.

“After seven years… another shot at glory,” He said to himself with a cold smile as the portal doors creaked open to grant him exit from Drekis’ throne room. “This will be a war to redefine the cosmic order, and this is when we will make our presence known to all on Khazan.”

 

Segment 4: Trouble in Karia

“Marauders! The Marauders are coming!” Veda Lexine opened her eyes with a startle, snapped out of her meditation as the cries of a little boy assailed her ears, recognisably belonging to Justin Cale. Without missing a beat, the white-haired swordswoman snatched up her sheathed katana and vaulted out of the window of her room, sliding down a canvas awning to land on the street outside, still barefoot and dressed in a simple gray kimono.

 “Marauders...” Veda hissed coldly as she tightened her grip on her weapon, burning with righteous indignation at the thought of the criminals wreaking havoc.

“Veda, Veda!” The boy yelled as he ran through the village square, stumbling as he bumped into the corner of a table before scrambling back onto his feet.

“Justin, watch where you’re going!” Aunt Veronica, a portly middle-aged farmer’s wife chided the boy as baskets of fresh agricultural produce were knocked off the table by Justin, sending cabbages, carrots, tomatoes and eggplants rolling to the ground.

“Wait, did you say Marauders? Oh no!” The portly woman’s mood took an abrupt turn as she caught the mention of The Marauders – not even bothering to gather her wares, she bolted back inside her shop with a speed that a woman of her frame couldn’t normally manage, slamming the door shut and locking it tightly.

“Veda! Veda! Good thing you’re here! Marauders attacked Mr. Drake outside town, and they’re headed our way!” Justin exclaimed as she ran up to Veda Lexine, who put her hands around the boy's shoulders to reassure him.

“I heard you the first time, Justin,” Veda replied as she took her hands off Justin, keeping her eyes peeled on the archway marking the entrance to the village square where three dark figures loomed into view from the distance. “Get indoors now, tell everyone to stay inside as well. I will handle this.”

“You will? But there are three of them, Veda...” Justin wondered if even a skilled swordswoman like Veda could handle three Marauders in a fight.

The boy fell silent as Veda Lexine gave him a hard look that told Justin to not doubt her abilities. By this time, the villagers were already sounding the Marauder alarm as the bell at their church tower began tolling — two quick rings, followed by a short pause then a third ring. Those who heard the alarm stopped all activities and hurried back into their homes or workplaces, keeping their doors securely locked. 

Justin himself stayed a while longer to watch the standoff between Veda and the Marauder trio, until the innkeeper ran across the village square to carry him off in his arms, running back to the inn for shelter. 

Even from inside the inn, Justin watched the scene unfold through a window as he cheered, “Go Veda! Kick their butts!” Before the innkeeper’s wife pulled him below the window sill and hurriedly drew the blinds, giving the boy a non-verbal admonition by placing an index finger over her lips with a stern expression. 

Only moments ago, the village square was bustling with activity, now it stood empty as Veda alone faced the Marauder trio that was drawing near. ‘So much for my quiet retreat huh?’ She thought. A year ago, the swordswoman had chosen Karia for its tranquility, a perfect place to put her troubled past behind her and continue to master the psionic arts she’d picked up from The Great Mentalist. But now, all of that is about to change.

By now, the three had gotten near enough that she could make out the details; at the front was a tall 20-something woman with waist-length brown hair, dressed in mismatched tactical gear – plate carrier vest, black combat boots, and baggy woodland camo BDU shirt that contrasted starkly with the khaki short-shorts that exposed much of her long, shapely legs. A half-piece ballistic mask and ARX160 assault rifle with a GLX160 underbarrel grenade launcher rounded out her ensemble. 

‘Given her confident swagger, I wager she’s the leader of this trio,’ Veda thought, her eyes squinting. 

The other woman appeared several years younger – more accurately a girl – bore cotton candy blue hair styled in twintails and accentuated with girly hair accessories, and carried herself with the energy of someone who is used to getting whatever she wanted. In contrast to the older woman’s utilitarian, military-themed attire, this girl sported a far flashier outfit, a Japanese sailor suit school uniform that had been snazzed-up with extra frills and ornamentations, making her resemble an anime magical girl. 

And rounding out the trio was a chubby slug-like creature with vaguely anthropomorphic facial features, carrying a chrome-plated rocket launcher over one shoulder, while slung over his other shoulder was a potato sack filled with weaponry of all kinds. 

As they closed the distance, the trio slowed down their pace, eventually coming to a stop when they were 10 metres apart. And already, Veda Lexine’s mind was formulating a strategy at handling the Marauders. ‘Hmmm… three of them. At this distance, it’s possible for me to get one of them, but the other two will be a problem. I should take the slug guy first as he appears to be the slowest.’

Veda’s deductions proved correct, as the rifle-toting brunette gave the swordswoman a friendly wave and spoke up for the trio. “Pleasant surprise seeing you here, Veda,” The brunette tugged her mask down to expose her smug countenance. “I’ve heard reports of splatter punks disappearing around Karia… your handiwork, I take it? Though given your track record in the Maniacal Heroes, I have my doubts about that.”

“My performance record as a hero is none of your business, Marauder,” Veda interjected, her voice dripping with scorn. “The people of Karia are innocents, and you’re going to have to step over my dead body before you can do them any harm.”

“Do we always have to talk about violence and harm?” The slug guy chimed in as he slid over to the front, unslinging his rocket launcher that sported clear customisations — a chromed finish and a decal of a strikingly beautiful blond woman in a red and yellow polka-dotted bikini reclining sultrily under the title “Lucy”. “We have no plans on hurting anyone; just collecting some taxes owed to ol’ Toc.”

“Yeah, we’re not technically committing any crimes if we’re just collecting taxes from the citizens,” The gunslinging brunette chuckled. 

“Taxes? What nonsense is that?” Veda asked, fixing a cold glare at the trio of Marauders.

The blue-haired girl gave a haughty noblewoman’s laugh, “See, this village sits within the borders of Zel’Mier, and now that The Marauders run this country’s government, so doesn’t this put Karia under The Marauders’ jurisdiction? Besides, I’m sure the good people of Karia wouldn’t mind giving us a kind donation on account of us kicking that tyrant Delagon out of office.”

“How despicable of you people…” Veda hissed as her grip tightened on the handle of her weapon. “Your governance of Zel’Mier is illegitimate, unrecognised by the Central Government of Khazan and its neighbouring state-kingdoms. This is a protection racket no matter how you dress up your words.”

“Ooh, touchy are we, Veda?” The brunette acting as the leader of the trio waved her hand dismissively. “Anyway, allow me to introduce this merry band. The name's Jessica Carlisle, but you can call me… The Unsubtle.” The Unsubtle then gestured to the twintails girl, who made a cute flourish by raising a peace sign over her brow and winking playfully. 

“This peppy lass to my right is Jayme Lloyd,” The Unsubtle continued, before flicking her left thumb at the slug-like creature. 

“And to round out our party, there’s Little Dave. Don’t let his peculiar appearance put you off, he’ll really grow on you once you get to know him better!”

Little Dave exploded in guffaws at The Unsubtle’s introduction, wiping away the tiny beads of tears from the corners of his eyes from laughing too hard. “Oh Jessie, you silver-tongued vixen! If laughter is the best medicine, then you’re the best doctor on Khazan!” To which The Unsubtle responded by miming a curtsey.

“When one’s job entails soaking themselves in blood, that’s one way to stay sane,” The gunslinger grinned. 

“You adults talk too much,” Jayme grumbled, crossing her arms as she kicked at a stray eggplant to demonstrate her growing impatience. “Let’s get this over with and report back to Toc!” 

“You’ll have to excuse little Jayme’s bluntness,” The Unsubtle added. “She can get pretty testy when she doesn’t get what she wants right away.”

“Damn straight!” Jayme barked, stamping her right foot before crossing her arms and making an exaggerated “humph,” with all the haughtiness she could muster.

“Say Veda, I got a modest proposal for ya,” The Unsubtle said as she slipped her mask back in place to hide her features. “It seems the people around these parts really look up to you, so how about you persuade the villagers to fork over their money, and we’ll leave this dump in peace. Deal?” 

“Seconded!” Little Dave chimed in. “I see no fun turning this place into a crater. So ask the villagers to cough up the dough and we’ll let you guys go back to growing turnips in peace… or raising pigs… or whatever the hell you do around here!”

An uneasy silence hung in the air for a few moments as Veda stared daggers at the trio, then her countenance broke into a look of defiance – a cold and confident smirk that created a jarring juxtaposition of fire in her eyes and ice upon her lips. “You will not have your way with these innocents. If you want that money so badly, you’ll have to go through me.”

Little Dave sighed sarcastically as he set down his potato sack of guns to brace Lucy with both hands, “Oh well, the diplomatic solution is boring anyway, this is more fun!” Acquiring Veda within the optics of his customised rocket launcher, a shit-eating grin spread over his face. “Lucy! It’s time to play!” 

The slug guy recoiled as a high-explosive rocket exited Lucy’s muzzle with a loud whoosh. His aim was good, but Veda’s reflexes proved better as the swordswoman sailed right over the incoming rocket with a leap, with the explosive projectile whizzing into the distance before exploding inside a watering hole on the opposite end of the village square, sending a stories-high geyser into the air. 

Little Dave was already busy loading another rocket into Lucy, but Veda landed in front of him and with a deft swing of her katana, hacked Lucy in two. 

“What… Lucy, NO!” Little Dave screamed at the sight of his wrecked weapon. As Veda’s fiery gaze met his, the slug guy desperately slithered towards his potato sack to reach for another gun, but a quick snap kick from the swordstress knocked him back, keeping him away from his stash of weapons. 

“Fuck…!” Little Dave cursed as Veda raised her sword and lunged forward to deal a finishing strike, but in a space of a heartbeat Jayme Lloyd managed to intercept the swordswoman by cartwheeling into her path and raising her forearm to block the swing. 

Veda’s ruby-irised eyes widened as the wannabe magical girl stopped the blade with her exposed forearm; her weapon was halted millimetres away from the girl’s skin, kept at bay by a layer of invisible nanobots that generated a powerful magnetic repulsion field. 

“Back with you!” Jayme shouted as she dialled up the strength of her magnetic repulsion field, revealing the true nature of her ‘magical girl’ uniform as a highly-sophisticated nanotech battlesuit. A powerful electromagnetic wave rippled through her surroundings, sending the swordstress flying back, slamming into a snack peddler’s cart and knocking it over. 

Springing back onto her feet, Veda was greeted by the sight of Jayme putting her hands together in a cute gesture, making a heart shape in front of her chest as energy began building up in the space between her fingers. 

“SUGOI! CHO-DAIJOBU SOUMETSU!” The pseudo magical girl declared as she thrust her hands forward, releasing a golden beam of searing energy that came at a blinding speed, leaving Veda with only enough time to dive to the left to avoid the beam as it grazed past her left arm to disintegrate a large chunk of fabric from her kimono's sleeve. 

“An ironic name for such a deadly attack; being hit by that would be anything but daijobu,” Veda mused as the beam left a smoking crater at where the overturned cart once had been. 

“Hey, don’t forget me!” The Unsubtle laughed as she entered the fray with her assault rifle blazing, forcing Veda to break into a sprint as bullets ricocheted off the cobblestones of the village square. “Hey, keep still!” Behind her mask, the gunslinger pouted as Veda ran into a nearby garden, taking cover behind the trunk of a large tree.

‘Well, they're a bit more than what I bargained for, I think I got each of their weaknesses figured out – but they cover for one another’s deficiencies very well,’ Veda Lexine thought, her heart pounding in her chest as she fought to steady her breathing. Had they come at her one at a time, she was confident she could take any of them; but together as a cohesive unit? It was a different story.

“Come on out, we haven’t got all day!” The Unsubtle taunted as she emptied an entire magazine worth of ammo into the tree, tearing out chunks of bark and wood as Jayme Lloyd sashayed over to the gunslinger’s side. 

“Jayme! Just the one I needed! Don’t mind doing the honours?” The gunslinger chuckled as she gestured towards the tree. 

“Gladly!” The faux magical girl giggled as she placed her hands together and began charging up energy. “SUGOI! CHO-DAIJOBU SOUMETSU!” 

“Crap, not again!” Veda groaned as she heard the familiar activation phrase, leaping out of the way just before another beam of golden energy atomised the tree, the explosion sending the swordstress flying and showering her with chips of wood. Landing face-down, the swordswoman performed a quick roll to get back onto her feet, but then she felt it, a sudden electrical tingle running through her body. 

Right after, her limbs suddenly felt slow to respond, as if they were chained to lead weights, before her muscles seized up altogether, freezing her in her current position of being down on one knee. Turning her head with great effort, she caught sight of a giggling Jayme Lloyd with her palms pointed at her, thin arcs of electricity dancing between her fingertips. 

“How’d you like this electrostatic field?” Jayme snickered as she skipped over to the immobilised Veda. “You have no idea how hard being a magical girl is when they just won’t sit through those justice speeches…” she sighed as she gave one of her twintails a flip. “But with this, that takes care of the problem!”

“Nicely done, Ms. Lloyd,” Little Dave slithered over to the two female Marauders, dragging his sack of guns behind him. Rummaging through its contents to decide on what to use next, the slug guy pulled out a Cimarron Uberti 1878, briefly opening up the coach gun to check the shells inside its breech, while Veda continued to glare defiantly at the trio. 

“Hey, what’s with that look!?” Little Dave growled as he struck Veda across the face with the butt of his double-barelled shotgun, knocking the swordswoman onto her back. 

“Alright, Marauders. You win, just promise that you won’t hurt the villagers if they hand over their money,” Veda replied, her voice calm and collected despite her seemingly hopeless situation.

Little Dave briefly wore a pensive expression. “I don’t know…” he rubbed his chin as he ruminated on something. “If you’d just agreed to persuade the villagers from the start that would’ve been perfect. But after you broke my precious Lucy, I’m not feeling so generous anymore...” The slug-like Marauder braced his coach gun as he trained his weapon sights on Veda. 

“So I’m gonna take one of your limbs as compound interest, a limb for my Lucy, yeah!” Little Dave grinned as he moved his weapon up and down. “Na-na-na-na-na…” he hummed as he moved his sights around, pondering on which of the swordswoman’s limbs to blow off.  

Veda was about to curse the slug out for his insolence, until a man’s voice, deep and booming with authority, drew everyone’s attention. “You’ve plundered your last village, evildoers!” 

The Marauders looked up to see two people standing on top of the church’s bell tower, silhouetted against the rays of the afternoon sun.

Jayme Lloyd clicked her tongue in annoyance as she turned in the direction of the voice, “Just who the hell do you think you…” the pseudo magical girl placed a hand above her brow to block the glare as she looked up, and her voice trailed off, “...are?”

“Oh, oh no…” Jayme Lloyd muttered in shock and disbelief upon recognising the two figures. A tall man with short-buzzed black hair and magnificent lantern jaw, his sculpted physique worthy of the Greek gods encased inside a brightly-coloured bodysuit, topped off with a pair of silver pauldrons and a flapping cape. 

Standing next to the caped superhero was a lithe young woman with platinum blonde hair tied back in a messy ponytail, looking to be late teens to early 20’s, her shapely figure accentuated by the frilly black sleeveless dress she was wearing, accessorised with matching dress boots and babydoll wristbands. 

“It’s Captain Khazan and Amy Coleman!” Jayme Lloyd’s heart skipped a beat upon recognising the two heroes who’d intervened.

“When did the Sentinels of Liberty and Justice get here!?” The Unsubtle recoiled in shock and dread. “And how did they know we’re here?” 

 Amy Coleman smiled, gesturing her reply in universal sign language, “The good citizens of Zel’Mier tipped the good Captain on your nefarious deeds, and from there he had no problems tracking you with his enhanced senses.”

“Ugh, should’ve capped that crusty merchant back there,” Little Dave mumbled, knowing full well what Amy meant by being tipped off. 

Captain Khazan smiled with confidence, his arms folded across his chest. “That’s right, and we’re about to bring your reign of terror in Zel’Mier to an end, starting with Karia!” The Captain pointed his right index finger at the Marauder trio.

“Oh, really?” Jayme sneered as she began charging up another energy blast by gesturing a heart shape. “How about after eating a SUGOI! CHO-DAIJOBU SOUMETSU!” The radiant beam passed right through the two heroes to obliterate the bell tower, but the two heroes remained floating in midair where the tower used to be, their poses unchanging.

“What? No way!” The wannabe magical girl gasped, wide-eyed. 

“It’s an Archons-damned illusion, that’s Amy Coleman's specialty!” The Unsubtle added as the visage of Amy and the Captain faded away. “But then where are the real Captain Khazan and Amy Coleman!?” 

“Right here,” Captain Khazan’s voice sounded behind The Unsubtle. 

The gunslinger’s combat instincts kicked in as she performed a defensive dive and rolled across the cobblestones to face Captain Khazan on one knee, the assault rifle chattering in her hand as she emptied the contents of its magazine into the caped crusader, and felt her heart in her mouth as the bullets bounced harmlessly off his body. 

The Unsubtle quickly followed up by firing her underbarrel grenade launcher, sending an explosive round right at the Captain. It proved no more effective than the bullets, but the explosion did its job of momentarily obscuring his vision, allowing The Unsubtle to put more distance between them as she took off in a sprint. 

“What’s the hurry?” Captain Khazan smiled calmly as he levitated into the air to track The Unsubtle. 

“SUGOI! CHO-DAIJOBU SOUMETSU!” A girl shouting from below caught Captain Khazan’s attention; turning his head in the direction of where the voice came from, the superhero would find himself blindsided by an energy blast courtesy of Jayme Lloyd. 

“Ugh!” Captain Khazan grunted in pain and surprise as the beam hit him square in the chest, blowing him out of the sky and sending him crashing through the roof of a nearby shop. 

“Ha, suck it!” The Unsubtle taunted as she flipped the bird in Captain Khazan's direction before giving a thumbs-up to Jayme Lloyd. “Good job, by the way,” she said as she ejected the spent magazine from her weapon and popped in a fresh one. 

“Wait… where’s Coleman?” The gunslinger’s jubilation was short-lived as realisation sank in that the other Sentinel remained unaccounted for. 

Jayme looked around, but as soon as she caught sight of Amy, the female Sentinel projected a blinding flash of light accompanied by a thick pall of white smoke. “By the Archons, I can’t see!” The bratty Marauder exclaimed as she engaged her nanosuit’s stealth field on reflex to evade her enemy, but as she stumbled around blindly she ended up colliding with an empty barrel and tripped right into it, leaving her upside-down in the barrel with only her legs sticking out. 

“Ah! Let me out! Let me out!” Jayme kicked frantically, but only worsened her situation as her panicked flailing and thrashing caused the barrel to tip over and then roll away, with the hapless young Marauder being taken for a ride inside it. 

“Jayme! No!” The Unsubtle yelled as she watched Jayme Lloyd roll off into the distance, her panicked cries fading out of earshot. But she would have no time to help her fellow Marauder as she spun around to fire a quick burst at Amy, only to have the rounds pass right through the empath. 

“Another illusion? Seriously!?” Turning away from the fading illusion, The Unsubtle would find Amy Coleman right in her face, surprising her with a crescent kick that knocked the ARX out of her hands. “Ugh, bitch!” The Unsubtle staggered and reached for her sidearm at her right hip, only to have Amy beat her to the draw as the Sentinel seized The Unsubtle’s wrist. 

The gunslinger grunted and doubled over in pain as Amy wound up and delivered a solid punch to her gut, and reeled as a follow-up came in the form of an elbow strike above the right eye as the empath kept up the pressure. 

Amy finished the combo by wheeling around to deliver a tornado kick that smacked The Unsubtle solidly across the face, the impact knocking off the gunslinger’s ballistic mask and sending her through the air with a double twist before landing on her side.

The Unsubtle got up on one knee and tried to reach for her rifle, but Amy brought her crashing onto the cobblestones with a timely headscissors takedown, the two women rolling across the ground and keeping The Unsubtle out of reach of her weapon. 

“You think you can hold me like that?” The Unsubtle wheezed, a pained expression written on her now-exposed face as she tried to pry Amy’s legs off her neck. Sensing resistance from the female Marauder, Amy wordlessly tightened her grip, eliciting a choked gasp from The Unsubtle as she flailed desperately.

Amy’s psychic senses tingled, warning her of impending danger. Looking up, she saw Little Dave raising his coach gun, intent on aiding his fellow Marauder. 

“Did you just forget about me?” Little Dave snickered as he thumbed back the hammer on his weapon and took aim, momentarily ignoring Veda Lexine, which proved to be a big mistake as he noticed the swordswoman rising back onto her feet from the edge of his peripheral vision.

“Crap, Ms. Lloyd’s electrostatic field wore off!” The slug-like Marauder exclaimed as he spun around to shoot Veda; but in the time it took for him to switch targets, the swordswoman was already upon him, her katana gleaming as it traced a crescent path. 

“No, not another one!” Little Dave moaned in dismay as his shotgun split apart from Veda’s slash. Crawling backwards, he threw the sundered halves of his weapon at Veda, who deftly knocked them away with the flat of her weapon. 

The Marauder was on the verge of hyperventilating as he reached frantically for his sack of guns, desperate for yet another weapon. Before he could retrieve another gun from the stash, Veda Lexine’s eyes glowed as she brought her sword down hard, slicing off Little Dave’s right arm in one fluid slash.

The slug-creature shrieked as his arm landed on the ground with a wet plop, and within seconds his scream turned into a gurgle as the energy from Veda’s psychically-charged strike known as Shen Si Jian overwhelmed Little Dave’s mind, short-circuiting his mental faculties. Now dumb as an ox, the Marauder flopped onto the cobblestones, drooling while muttering incoherent gibberish.

‘Oh Archons, no,’ Jayme Lloyd muttered as she managed to free herself from the barrel, only to be treated to the sight of two of her fellow Marauders being taken down. ‘Sorry pals, better for me to live to fight another day!’ Engaging her stealth field, the faux magical girl attempted to slip away in her invisible state. 

But she hadn’t counted on being foiled by Captain Khazan’s enhanced senses and detective skills, who picked up the faint ripples in the air from Jayme’s movements.

“N-no way!” The pseudo magical girl went wild-eyed with shock as Captain Khazan made a beeline for her, crossing her arms just in time to block a right straight from the mighty superhero. Prioritising Jayme’s survival, the AI on her nanosuit directed energy from her stealth field to overclock her magnetic barrier, causing her to flicker back into plain sight as the powerful blow sent her skidding across the village square, her back slamming against a wall. 

The young Marauder barely rolled out of the way as Captain Khazan threw another punch, his fist blowing a hole through the stone and mortar. “Stay away from me!” Jayme Lloyd screamed as she projected her electrostatic field as a last ditch effort to keep her attacker at bay.

No effect. The caped crusader’s constitution was on a whole other level even by metahuman standards, the electrostatic field barely registering as he landed a rapid fire barrage of Wing Chun punches, each strike whittling away at the faux magical girl’s defenses, before finishing the combo with a thundering haymaker that collapsed the protective force field as her nanosuit’s core ran out of power to maintain the barrier. 

“I take no pleasure in this, especially on account of you being both female and a minor,” Captain Khazan said as he cocked back his right fist, his voice calm but stern. “So what’s it gonna be, young miss?”

Jayme Lloyd sighed, hanging her head in resignation. Without another word, the cotton candy-haired teen raised her arms in a signal of surrender. 

‘Here’s my chance!’ The Unsubtle thought as she noticed that Amy Coleman had been distracted by watching Captain Khazan subdue Jayme Lloyd. Reaching for a small pouch attached to the MOLLE webbing of her plate carrier vest, The Unsubtle retrieved and detonated a flashbang, leaving the female Sentinel stunned and blinded, which created an opening for The Unsubtle to break free from the headscissors and throw Amy off her. 

Still disoriented from the flashbang explosion, there was little Amy Coleman could do to defend herself as The Unsubtle ran up to the female Sentinel who was on all fours and delivered a punt kick to the side of her head that sent her rolling across the cobblestones before making a run for it.

“You’re hurt! Hang in there, Ms. Coleman,” A concerned Captain Khazan remarked as he hurried over to Amy’s side to help the fellow Sentinel back onto her feet.

“Don’t worry about me,” Amy gestured in universal sign language as she put on a reassuring smile. “Don’t let that Marauder get away!” 

“Rest assured, I will find her,” Captain Khazan nodded as he took to the air to survey his surroundings. He saw the woman running towards the Darkshadow Forest with surprising speed. “There she goes. She’s heading for the Dark Shadow Forest. She must be going to the capital.”

Amy Coleman followed the captain’s gaze to see the Unsubtle making a run for it. As Captain Khazan took to the air in pursuit, Amy looked back at Veda Lexine and gave her a smile, before making gestures in universal sign language, saying, “I leave these two in your hands.” Veda nodded in return, then Amy ran down the hill after the fleeing Marauder.

“Happy hunting, Sentinels,” Veda mused, not caring if Amy Coleman or Captain Khazan were able to hear her. As the residents of Karia began to poke their heads through half-open doors and windows to see if the worst was over, Veda Lexine would flash them a smile as the first villager to muster enough courage to approach the incapacitated Marauders was the local sheriff. “Alright, I’m gonna need some help from you now; don’t mind asking the locals if anyone here can spare me a few rolls of good quality rope?”

The sheriff of Karia said nothing, only grinned in response before turning to the villagers. “Alrighty boys and girls, let’s do as the Maniacal Heroine says! Hold em’ till we can hand them over to the SLJ!”

In response, the villagers roared in approval as they scrambled to do as the sheriff requested.

 

Segment 5: Vincentzo Maiinverno, Royal Archmage

The city of Araelgrad was as beautiful as it was dangerous. For decades, this ancient city had not known a stable government or long-term power structure; it was a mercurial place where the administrative body changes like the seasons — The Fallen might rule the city one day, and a week later the Sentinels could be in charge.

But Vincentzo Maiinverno, a royal-born archmage and member of the Sentinels of Liberty and Justice, was looking to change this. “It is my destiny to be the light in the darkness, to shepherd the lost and protect the weak!” he proclaimed to himself as he climbed up the spiral staircase of an observation tower that was in the final stages of construction.

From the observation deck of the structure, the archmage beheld the panoramic view of a city that was undergoing reconstruction following the last clash between the Sentinels and The Fallen. The top priority however, went to restoring the hilltop palace that would serve to be his future home.

“Put some effort into polishing that marble, will you?” Vincentzo chastised a worker as he descended from the tower, pausing to examine an ornate fountain that was undergoing reconstruction. “It still looks like it came straight out of the quarry!”

“Tsk, and look at that hedge!” The royal wizard tutted as he tapped impatiently at a horticulturist’s shoulder. “It's so unevenly trimmed it looks like a forest! Get your men to give it a redo!”

“You!” Vincentzo snapped at a stonemason who was putting finishing touches to one of the many statues in the palace courtyard styled in his likeness. “How’d you ever allow weeds to grow at the base of my statue!?” His right index finger pointed at some stray weeds growing at the foot of the granite plinth upon which his marble statue stood, his frown growing as the stonemason explained that this wasn’t in his job scope.

“You could’ve at least referred it to a horticulturist then! Do you know how poorly it reflects on your future king to leave it in that state?” The workers and craftsmen ignored Vincentzo's tirades the best they could; as all the while the archmage strutted around, nitpicking and criticising without ever lifting a finger – all in the name of leadership.

The door of a nearby storage shack swung open, and from the door emerged Woose Brain, fetching building materials and arriving just in time to witness Vincentzo chewing out the workers, the scene causing Woose to tilt his head in puzzlement.

The archmage was someone he had a lot of difficulty trying to figure out. His intentions were noble, but he also carried himself with all the arrogance and pomp of a blowhard, easily one of the biggest Woose had seen this side of Khazan. Most of the workers tolerated his antics as they had no energy to argue – but Woose in particular was too dim to register offense.

“Ah Woose, what will I do without you?” Vincentzo remarked, his tone softening ever so slightly as he approached Woose. “If only they were even half as reliable as you are. Just look at this bunch; I looked away for one fleeting moment and they’re already stumbling around in the dark!”

Woose shrugged, “With all due respect, ‘Centzo, if the work isn’t going as smoothly as you’d like, shouldn’t the best solution be for you to pitch in? I mean… nobody knows the palace plans better than you.”

Vincentzo’s eyes grew wide, then snorted as he held himself back from laughing derisively. “Oh Woose, do you not have any conception of roles and delegation? Would you request that an apothecary dig trenches, or ask a poet to sweep stables? Nay, my role is not to toil like a common serf. My role is to oversee, to direct, to delegate. Such is my sacred duty.”

“Oversee? But all I’ve seen so far is you yelling at people,” Woose remarked a matter-of-factly.

“That’s what it means to oversee!” Vincentzo huffed, flipping his blonde locks with theatrical flair. “They need a strong hand such as mine on their shoulder to make them realise their fullest potential; without which they would be bereft of vision, purpose or taste.”

“Right, I shan’t waste any more of your time then,” Woose said as he trundled off to deliver the materials to where it was needed, leaving the archmage alone with his thoughts.

“Can anyone imagine a king doing menial work? What kind of a world would that be?” Vincentzo murmured as he headed back up the observation tower. From the elevated position the royal wizard was able to get a good view of not just the city of Araelgrad, but also the surrounding lands that border the neighbouring state-kingdom of Zel’Mier.

“Is that… Captain Khazan?” Vincentzo wondered aloud to himself as he caught sight of the familiar caped figure flying through the sky, while carrying an attractive young woman with platinum blonde hair in his arms, presumably a fellow Sentinel hitching a ride. “But what are they doing in such a remote province in Zel’Mier?”

It was then that the archmage spied another figure – that of a brunette woman in military-styled attire sprinting through the woods, and then the dots mentally connected. “Right, Zel’Mier and their little Marauder problem… surprised that the Sentinels took this long to finally start doing something about it. Still, if she’s got Captain Khazan on her tail, I’d really hate to be that Marauder right now,” the archmage smiled wryly as he shook his head. By his reckoning, had he been the one on the SLJ leadership council, he’d never have waited this long to take action against the Marauder occupation.

‘Of course, if I were in his place I’d have that Marauder apprehended in no time,’ Vincentzo thought as he once more descended the steps to continue supervising the restoration works in his future palace.

 

Segment 6: The Bar of Broken Dreams

Timothy Shinestar's head pounded from a double whammy of inebriation and electronic dance music as he fought to stay seated upright at the bar counter, his girlfriend Raea having to periodically hold his collar and gently raise him back upright. 

“Ha, what was I thinking? To think I signed up for the FPL with nothing but a sword…” The young man spoke with a slurred tongue as the effect of having one too many gin and vodka cocktails caught up with him. “...a sword I don’t even know how to properly use! How foolish was I to think I even had a chance!”

Earlier in the year, the young swordsman had signed up for the qualifiers for the next season of the Fantasy Powers League with a heart full of hope, but when the results came back the bitter sting of reality hit him – he failed to advance to the Undercards.

“Tim… That’s your eighth drink,” Raea’s voice dripped concern as she leaned in to shake him gently, her voice rising to compete with the dance music that was pounding in the patrons’ ears. What began as an innocent evening date on her part to try and lift Tim’s spirits had spiralled into a pity party after Shinestar chugged too much alcohol at the Purgatori – one of Khazan City’s top-rated nightclubs. “If you could see yourself in a mirror right now, your usual self would’ve been horrified.”

“I… I hate that version of myself right now…” Tim muttered as he chugged the cocktail down, letting out a muffled groan as the tang of citrus prickled his tongue and vodka burned his throat. The more inebriated Shinestar got, the looser his tongue became, and each self-defeating statement that came out of his lips only served to fuel his desire for more alcohol. “I should just forget that I ever had hope.”

“Look, Tim. I know joining the Fantasy Powers League has been your childhood dream,” Raea placed an arm around his shoulders.

“...And it’s gone up in smoke!” Tim moaned as his hand shot up. “Barkeep, gimme one Sex on the Beach!” The bartender, a devil-like humanoid with red skin, short black horns and slicked-back black hair and dressed in an immaculately-pressed shirt, tie and waistcoat nodded wordlessly as he mixed the cocktail and slid the glass across the counter top to Tim – who caught it with surprising dexterity despite his inebriated state.

“You’re twenty, Shinestar,” Raea said, gently squeezing Tim’s hand; the young man stood six feet tall and sported an athletic but not excessively muscular build; his attire – a red plaid flannel shirt and blue paisley neck bandana over a T-shirt and jeans – gave him a blue-collar look, making him indistinguishable from the average working-class citizen were it not for his short but messy pale silver hair and vibrant turquoise-hued eyes. “The FPL’s been around since forever, and it’s not going anywhere… you just need to train harder, and I’m sure you’ll have a decent shot by next season.”

Raea on the other hand, stood in stark contrast to her boyfriend – a stunning beauty with fiery red hair and amber eyes to complement her fit and curvaceous figure, dressed to impress in her stylish red dress that showed enough skin to easily turn heads, but covered enough to maintain an air of elegance and taste. Together, they were like the lady and the tramp.

“How I envy you, Raea… if only I had a fraction of your talent…” Tim muttered as he raised the glass to his lips, but hesitated to chug back his drink as if he’d reached his limit.  

“Don’t talk like that, Tim. Did you think I made it into the Sentinels with no setbacks? We’ve known each other since we’re kids – you’re the type to always pick yourself back up when you stumble as much as me,” The redhead’s voice was firm but reassuring; sympathetic of Tim’s predicament, yet pained by his current self-loathing. 

“You’ve always had more faith in me than I ever had in myself… for that I thank you,” Tim took a sip of his drink. “But how am I going to train with a weapon I don’t fully understand?” His mind wandered to the sword left sitting in his bedroom at home, his father’s sword – it was all he had of the man who’d passed away before he even laid eyes on him. 

“Khazan is a place where the greatest champions across the universe gather, Tim. Who’s to say you can’t find a master swordsman to train under? What about the telekinesis you said your father possesses? Maybe an esper could take you under their wing for that?” Raea wondered. 

“If only it were this simple, Raea,” Shinestar ruffled his hair with an exasperated sigh. “This isn’t just a skill issue, it’s a lot more complicated than that… remember what I told you about my dad having telekinesis? He never was an esper – the sword granted him that power, alongside energy blasts, flight and others, but I can’t even access a fraction of them!”

There was a beat of uneasy silence that was eventually broken by Raea. “You’re right, Tim. There’s a lot we don't know about your biological parents… but we’ll figure something out together. At the very least, it never hurts to improve your skill in wielding the sword, just look at The Screaming Swordsman!”

Tim looked up from his drink and forced a tired smile onto his face. “Th… thanks for standing by me all the time.” He felt simultaneously cursed for being born as a successor to a heroic legacy that he failed to live up to, yet blessed for having a friend who since childhood had always been so kind to him even when he was hard on himself. 

 Seeing Tim’s tired smile also brought a smile on Raea’s face. At least her words were finally getting through to him. This was when her phone buzzed, not her standard ringtone, but a custom one reserved for Sentinels’ duty calls. “Hello? Raea Shalhalla here,” the young redhead answered. “Roger that, tell Uberman that I’ll be at Sentinels HQ in an hour, tops.”

“Sorry Tim, I got an emergency SLJ conference to attend,” Raea put away her phone and leaned in to give Shinestar a long hug and a kiss on the head. “You take the time you need to process this… but promise me this will be the last drink for the night, okay?”

Tim nodded weakly. “O-okay…” he murmured, followed by a hiccup.

“Not good enough, Shinestar. Pinky swear?” Raea smiled as she extended her right hand. 

“I swear; no more drinks,” Tim mustered all the solemnity he could in his drunk state as he shook pinkies with Raea. The redhead appeared satisfied by this as she picked up her purse and left, the silken fabric and sequined embroidery of her dress gleaming and sparkling enchantingly under the pulsing club lights, swishing with her movements. 

Tim's eyes followed Raea until she vanished from sight amongst the throngs of clubbers. “How am I supposed to learn about this weapon’s power?” he murmured as he folded his arms and buried his face into the table, the image of the sword came to his mind — an elegant straight-bladed one with a single cutting edge, styled in the likeness of a Tangdao, with a grip made from conch shell and decorated with gold and silver filigree and inlaid with pearls and agate.

The only thing he knew was that his birth father had left this weapon behind after he left Khazan for an unknown, far-off world. What little he knew of the man, his powers and achievements as a legendary hero, were told to him by his biological mother.

While Tim had never seen his father from the day he was born, at least he had early childhood memories of his mother. ‘If anyone could’ve told me more about dad, it had to be you, mom, but why did you have to leave me before you did?’ he thought as flashbacks played in his mind, of his six-year old self wailing as his mother’s coffin was respectfully lowered into the grave as the kid Raea gently and firmly held his hand, and Raea’s parents – close friends of his mother – made a solemn promise to look after the boy. 

“That’s it, no more booze,” Tim wiped his sweat as he paid the bill and left his half-finished drink on the bar. Raea was right – if he looked at himself in the mirror right now, his normal self would’ve been terrified. 

With a throbbing head and wobbling feet, Tim crossed the central dance floor – a raised dais made of LED mood light panels that changed colours to the music’s rhythm. He'd almost made it to the opposite edge when he ploughed right into another patron, causing him to stagger back and fall onto his posterior in a cartoonish manner, eliciting a raucous burst of laughter from the crowd.

All except one. A male patron in his mid-20’s with a blonde buzzcut, dressed in an indigo shirt and black slacks and sporting tattoos on his right forearm. He stared at the tankard of beer that was now on the floor, then at the wet patch on his shirt and trousers, then at Tim with a gaze that looked it could drill through him.

“You spilled my drink, dickweed!” the irate patron growled as he stepped over and grabbed Shinestar by his shirt to yank him back to his feet.

“I-I’m s-sorreh,” Tim muttered an apology. “Had a bit… too much to drink… Urk!” The combination of intoxication and being jostled around proved too much for his gut, and Tim ended up disgorging the contents of his stomach on the other man’s feet. 

“You! You making an ass out of me!?” The irate patron pulled back his free hand, balled into a tight fist. “Son of a bitch!” He spat as he slugged Tim across the jaw, causing the young man to reel before falling onto his back. His punch only hurt him more than it did Tim, as the patron winced in pain rubbing his knuckles, while the silver-haired youth barely had a mark on his cheek.

“Fuck… what is your face made of anyway!?” the irate patron nursed his hand, his gaze darting back and forth between his own hand and at Tim who was already wobbling back onto his feet without a care in the world. 

“Hey, I saw that!” A familiar voice rose above the music, coming from all the way at the other end of the hall. Raea pushed her way through the crowd to make her way towards Tim and the irate patron. “Hands off my boy!” 

The irate patron stared at Tim for a second, then at Raea, before a salacious grin crossed his face. “Well, what a looker! You’re that bum’s girlfriend?” Ignoring Tim for the moment he swaggered over to Raea before leaning in.

“Talk about wasted potential, how’s say I buy you a drink and we get to know each other a little better eh? Y’know, to get to know a real man,” He smirked as he waggled his brows, trying to put an arm over her shoulders.

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you,” Raea brushed his arm aside coldly as she took Tim’s arm around her shoulders to hold him steady as she walked him to the exit. “Try competing in the FPL qualifiers and then we’ll talk about who’s a real man. But I doubt a small dick like yourself would even dream of doing so.”

“Small… dick?” The patron’s anger deepened as he cut in front of Tim and Raea, his fists balled. “Don’t think you get to talk down to me just because you have a pretty face!” He reached out with his hands with the intent to tear the redhead away from her boyfriend, when a heavy hand rested firmly on his shoulder.

“Got a problem, friends?” The bouncer’s rumbling baritone cut through the din. The irate patron found himself looking up at a nearly seven feet tall, heavily-muscled Mongolian man with a swept-back undercut, his black polo T-shirt and fatigue trousers barely hiding his powerful frame as he eyed the three with a hawklike gaze. 

The man turned pale at the sight of the bouncer. “No, none whatsoever,” he mumbled meekly as he wriggled away from the bouncer and slinked through the crowd, the burly Mongolian eying him intently until he reached the exit. 

“Thanks, sorry for the trouble my boyfriend caused,” Raea said as he gave the bouncer a nod.

“Don’t, it’s what I’m paid to do,” The bouncer replied curly as he fished his phone out of his pants’ pockets and uploaded the irate patron’s photo as he sent a text to the management to recommend adding him to the banned customers list.

“Why’d you come back?” Tim wondered as Raea walked him out of the premises of Purgatori and sat him down on a bench at a pickup/drop-off point outside the nightclub.

“Call it a woman’s intuition I guess,” Raea replied as she gently rubbed the side of Tim’s face where he’d been punched. “How are you holding up, Tim? He didn't hurt you too bad, I hope?” She leaned in to get a better look, but found that other than a slight redness on his cheek, Tim appeared fine – by her reckoning it wouldn’t even leave a bruise.

“Oh, that? That was nothing!” Tim chuckled as his girlfriend lowered her hand. “I've taken far harder blows in the FPL qualifiers!”

“Well, that’s good to hear then,” Raea nodded as she put her arms around Tim in a warm hug, delighted to see the Timothy Shinestar she knew and loved make a comeback. As they separated from the embrace, Raea stuck out her right hand at Tim, beckoning with her upturned palm. 

“Huh?” Tim wondered, squinting apprehensively as he tried to decipher his girlfriend’s gesture. 

“Your car keys, please; unless you plan on driving home in your current state,” Raea said in a semi-playful tone as she beckoned one more time with her hand. 

“But… What about that SLJ conference? Wouldn’t you get disciplined for being late?” Shinestar asked in a worried voice as he passed his car keys to Raea. He’d overheard Raea saying that she’d arrive at Sentinels HQ within an hour at most, but if she took the trouble of seeing Tim home, there was no way that she’d be able to honour that timing. 

“Oh, they’ll understand. Especially ol’ Uberman; plus with Ellen taking the minutes she’ll be sure to fill me in on the parts that I missed,” Raea reassured as she walked Tim towards where he kept his car parked at the parking lot across the street.

 

Segment 7: First Contact

The low-hanging branches and undergrowth whipped at The Unsubtle as she sprinted through the Darkshadow Forest, her breath coming in ragged gasps; the female Marauder was able to swat some of the branches out of her face, but could do nothing to the brambles that scraped at her legs. Meanwhile, Captain Khazan simply powered through the dense vegetation as if they weren’t even there.

“Stop, Marauder!” The mighty Captain’s voice echoed through the woods

“Damn my luck,” She grumbled to herself. “I’m not making it back to the capital at this rate!” Performing a baseball slide, The Unsubtle slid underneath a fallen redwood to clear the obstacle, and seconds later a thundering crash assaulted her eardrums as Captain Khazan ploughed right through the dead tree like a railgun shot.

‘What does it take to shake that guy off-AH!’ The Unsubtle’s train of thought was rudely interrupted as she caught her foot on a protruding root and tripped. With a scream, she went tumbling down a slope, only coming to a stop as she landed roughly at its foot. “Ugh, pain…” She groaned as she sat up, dazed and bruised from the fall but miraculously free from any sprains or broken bones. The sound of Captain Khazan crashing through the trees above brought a small comfort to The Unsubtle, as the Sentinel appeared convinced that he was following the right lead.

But The Unsubtle had no time to rest – Captain Khazan was no dumb muscle; it wouldn’t be long before he realised he was following a false lead. True enough, from above she would hear the sound of vegetation rustling under a second set of lighter footsteps. ‘Curses! Gotta be Amy Coleman; she must’ve split up with Captain Khazan,’ The gunslinger thought as she nervously scanned her surroundings for somewhere – anywhere – that she could hide and lay low until the Sentinels called off their search.

It was then she spotted it; an opening within a nearby rock formation – as The Unsubtle approached it, the draft of cool air blowing out of it was all she needed to know. It was a cave entrance, one of the many that dotted the Khazanian Mainland that led into the infamous Endless Caves. ‘That might be my only chance,’ she thought as she took another step closer, only to be surprised by a flock of bats flying out of the cave entrance, startled by the female Marauder’s intrusion.

“Whoa, fuck!” The Unsubtle cursed and raised her arms over her face as the winged mammals squeaked noisily and took to the skies before descending the slope into the entrance chamber, her nose crinkling at the smell of guano.

“Amy, I heard something down there!” From outside, The Unsubtle heard Captain Khazan’s voice – this was followed seconds later by the sound of the underbrush rustling as someone descended the slope.

“Those Archons-damned bats gave me away!” The Unsubtle grumbled. 

‘Shit! Amy’s on her way and Captain Khazan will join her in no time,’ she thought. ‘Still, I can lose them inside the caves!’ Despite the initial startle, the female Marauder pressed on, heading deeper into the caves, beyond the reach of the sunlight streaming in through the entrance.

The pungent smell of guano was replaced by a dank, musty odour as The Unsubtle headed deeper into the caves that never knew daylight – but in spite of this, she had trouble finding her way around thanks to glowing crystal formations and patches of bioluminescent fungi. The numerous rocks, crevices and alcoves provided plenty of cover, a perfect hiding place. However, there was also another smell that The Unsubtle couldn’t quite describe that made her feel ill at ease.

‘I can’t quite put my finger on this… but something tells me coming here is a bad idea,’ She thought. Unfortunately, there was no heading back where she came as she heard Captain Khazan and Amy’s footsteps echoing through the passages, drawing closer. The duo were skilled detectives, and combined with the Captain’s enhanced senses they had little difficulty tracking The Unsubtle despite her skill in stealth and concealment. ‘Guess the only way out of this is to head deeper in, huh?’

‘Alright, time for Russian stealth then!’ The Unsubtle reached for her hip and slid her sidearm out of its holster – a Variant 4 Colt Delta Elite, chambered for 10mm Auto. Both Sentinels were problematic in their own ways; Amy Coleman possessed precognition that allowed her to sense impending danger, while Captain Khazan was a bunker on legs, capable of taking high explosives and particle beam weaponry with hardly a scratch.

However, The Unsubtle reckoned that with the element of surprise on her side and the right timing she might just be able to get a good shot in on Amy before her danger sense went off; maim or kill the female Sentinel, and then use the ensuing chaos to lose Captain Khazan by slipping even deeper into the Endless Caves.

‘Yes, come on, come closer…’ The Unsubtle backed into another branching passage as she listened for Amy’s footsteps in the adjoining chamber. As the Marauder’s free hand brushed idly against the walls of the passage an unsettling realisation struck her. The first clue was how smooth the walls felt, possessing a glassy texture not unlike obsidian. And the passage she was in? Its symmetry and smoothness looked too perfect to have been shaped by geological processes.

And then there was that smell, that unfamiliar rank odour she’d picked up earlier. The Unsubtle smelled it again, and more strongly this time. Her ears picked up another noise; the padding of feet accompanied by the clacking of claws on stone… and it was coming from right behind her!

The Unsubtle spun around to face the source of the sound, as two tiny points of yellow light broke the darkness in the passage behind her. As they drew closer, The Unsubtle gasped as their owner loomed into view. Under the half-light, she could make out a vaguely humanoid creature lumbering down the passage; seven feet tall, gray-skinned, broad-shouldered and sporting baleful yellow eyes and horns on its head, while black bony plates covered portions of its neck, shoulders, chest and upper back. Its five-fingered hands ended in wicked claws, and possessed a roughly humanoid face with heavy brow ridges, flat nose and pronounced underbite.

The creature emitted a low, rumbling growl as its lips parted, revealing a set of jagged, razor sharp teeth as its eyes glinted with undisguised malice. The Unsubtle raised her pistol at the beast, poised to shoot, but the creature broke into a charge and swiped at her with a clawed hand. The Unsubtle ducked under its blow, before staggering the monster with a pistol whip to the face and knee to the groin. Despite having no visible genitalia, the creature grunted and doubled over from the blow, giving The Unsubtle precious seconds to back out the passageway and return to the adjoining chamber.

“Well, look who decided to turn herself in,” Captain Khazan smiled with his hands on his hips with Amy Coleman by his side as The Unsubtle stumbled back into the cave chamber, but his expression quickly changed as the creature emerged from the passage seconds later.

“Oh, what’s this? Sending your pet monster to get us?” The Captain perked an eyebrow as he studied the monstrous humanoid intently.

Amy gestured in universal sign language to interject. “They don’t look like-” The psychic barely finished as the unknown beast bellowed and then charged right at her, but Captain Khazan swiftly intercepted the creature by positioning himself in front of Amy in the blink of an eye and threw a powerful left straight at the creature, his fist piercing clean through its chest like a lance. The creature’s dying roar faded into a gurgle as it collapsed limply at Captain Khazan’s feet.

“No more tricks, Marauder. I advise you to lay down your weapons and cooperate,” Captain Khazan flicked the foul-smelling ichor off his hand and forearm as he stepped over the dead creature to approach The Unsubtle, his tone calm but authoritative. 

Before The Unsubtle could say or do anything in response, growls began echoing from the nearby passages as more creatures emerged from them, identical to the one killed by the Captain. “They don't seem to discriminate between Sentinels or Marauders,” Captain Khazan mused as they eyed the Sentinels and Marauder with equal malevolence. 

“The death throes of the first creature must’ve drawn more of its kind here,” Amy gestured in sign language. For a moment, the chamber was filled with an electric tension as the three engaged in a standoff with the unidentified monsters. 

It was The Unsubtle’s flightiness that provided the spark to light the powder keg as she fired the first shot, her bullet hitting a creature between the eyes and killing it instantly. The other beasts roared in unison and began attacking Sentinels and Marauder alike. 

“Amy, stay close to me!” Captain Khazan cautioned as he raised his fists in a fighting stance. A drooling monster leapt at the Captain with its claws outstretched, but Captain Khazan cross-countered with a punch to the jaw that sent it flying. Another tackled him by the waist, but the mighty Sentinel was immovable like a fort, delivering a crushing elbow to the creature’s nape before putting it in a double underhook and slamming it into the ground with a butterfly suplex.

“Just how many of these Archons-damned things are there!?” The Unsubtle cursed as monsters converged upon her position. Even in the heat of the moment, the gunslinger kept her hands steady and her eyes sharp, firing with deadly accuracy as a shot tore into one of the creatures’ throat, followed up with a double tap – one to the chest, a second one to the temple. From the corner of her vision she could see Captain Khazan obliterating the demonic-looking beasts, but for every creature he took out, two more emerged to take its place. 

Another leapt into the air, almost touching the ceiling as it attempted to pounce on The Unsubtle, but the female Marauder swiftly rolled aside causing it to crash face-down against the ground. As the creature picked itself up, The Unsubtle lined up her pistol’s muzzle at its temple and blew its brains out with a point-blank shot, execution style. 

“For a moment you had me scared, turns out guns work on you bastards!” The Unsubtle remarked as she reloaded her Delta Elite. For all their scary, demonic appearances, the creatures were flesh and blood, capable of perishing to gunfire. As four of the unknown beasts advanced towards her, The Unsubtle quickly killed two of them with precise shots as she shook off her initial fright. 

“Ha! Get some, motherfuckers!” The Unsubtle taunted. But instead of charging, the remaining two creatures held their positions, staring balefully at The Unsubtle as snarling tongues of flame gathered in their palms, coalescing into fireballs.

“Shit!” The Unsubtle hissed as one of the creatures lobbed a fireball at her, swiftly diving out of the incendiary projectile’s way. The second creature also let fly a fireball, and this one clipped the Marauder’s right arm, causing her to drop her pistol as she staggered, desperately trying to pat out the fire that’d caught on her sleeve. 

This left The Unsubtle wide open, allowing the first monster to tackle her as its shoulder rammed hard into her midsection, knocking the air out of her lungs. Before she could recover, it grabbed her by the hair and slammed her face-first against a nearby wall, the Marauder’s forehead bouncing off the rock face as the impact rendered her unconscious. 

In the meantime, Captain Khazan found himself tackled by no less than five of these things, raking and tearing away at him with their claws – but it had all the effectiveness of a kitten clawing away at a blast door. Undeterred by the ineffectiveness of their attacks, the creatures jumped on his back, tackled his waist and grabbed his arms. 

“Do these creatures know no fear?” the Captain wondered as they attempted to overpower him and force him to the ground. “That means they won’t understand the consequences,” With a grunt, Captain Khazan heaved his powerful core muscles, shaking the beasts off him.

Fighting back, Captain Khazan reached behind him to perform a shoulder throw on one of the creatures, followed up with a stomp to the face. In a heartbeat he was upon another creature, bringing it down with a one-two combo consisting of a left gut punch into a right hook. The Sentinel seized another two of the demonic beasts by the throats and lifted them up to deliver double chokeslams with authority. 

More monsters attacked, but Captain Khazan combined his herculean strength with swift and precise martial arts techniques, obliterating creatures left and right. While weak in comparison to Captain Khazan, the monsters were numerous and pressed their assault relentlessly, without a shred of concern for their own well-being. Even as the mighty Sentinel destroyed them in hand-to-hand combat, several of their kin stayed at the rear to pelt him with demonic fireballs.

“These fellows are tenacious, I’ll give them that!” The Sentinel remarked as he tripped one of them with a leg sweep, before pummelling it into oblivion with Wing Chun punches, right before ten of the demonic beasts leapt at the caped crusader from all sides in an attempt to dogpile and pin him down.  

A lone creature broke off from the rest of the horde to engage Amy Coleman, who nimbly ducked and weaved her way out of its claw swipes, before countering with three consecutive kicks — a low roundhouse to the knee, a twisting side kick to the midsection, and finally a high roundhouse kick to the jaw. 

Rocked by Amy’s blows, the creature staggered and growled, before redoubling its assault by charging at the Sentinel to deliver a claw swipe, only to have her avoid the attack with a sidestep, before grabbing its arms, swinging her legs up to trap its head between her thighs and then twisting her body in midair to flip the monster around and send it slamming headfirst against the floor in a headscissors takedown; the creature growled as it tried to rise to its feet, before silently slumping to the ground. 

From the corner of her field of vision, Amy saw that Captain Khazan could use some support as he wrestled with ten of the beasts. The psychic lent the Captain a hand by projecting illusory copies of her fellow Sentinel. 

“Hey, are you looking for me?” A fake Captain Khazan waved and smiled as he appeared several metres away. A few of the monsters in the dogpile got off to attack the lifelike simulacrum, only to have it vanish and reappear a metre away. It was then that another fake Captain Khazan appeared, and another, until the creatures found themselves looking at no less than five Captain Khazans. “Right will prevail!” The fake Captain Khazans said in cheerful unison as they smiled and gave a thumbs-up even as the beasts raked and clawed and threw fireballs, their attacks passing harmlessly through the hologram-like projections.

Capitalising on the confusion created by Amy’s illusions, Captain Khazan regained control of the situation, demolishing every creature in sight as limbs and spines snapped, ribs broke and skulls caved in under his pulverising blows. “Who's next?” He asked as he stood surrounded by slain demonic beasts, and for a moment the remaining ones appeared cowed as they stepped back.

“Are they retreating?” Amy gestured in sign language. 

This was when a new creature emerged from another passage, much larger than the ones they’d been fighting. This new monster stood as tall as a two-storied house and was covered from head to toe in a dark green exoskeleton, with a disproportionately oversized upper body and elongated arms ending in serrated blades instead of hands, and a horned head that was void of any facial features save for a pair of glowing red eyes.

“No, they’re regrouping,” Captain Khazan replied in a grim tone as he readied another fighting stance as more creatures emerged from the surrounding passages, rallying around the larger beast. 

The large monster reared back its head and – despite having no mouth – gave off a ear-shattering roar that sent tremors through the surrounding walls as a flash of red light emanated from it, momentarily lighting up the cave chamber in a blood red glow as a glowing hexagram manifested under its feet.

“What was that!?” Came Amy’s sign language remark. 

“No clue, it didn’t appear to be an attack…” Captain Khazan replied, but his voice trailed off as he and Amy noticed the transformation that had taken place in the smaller beasts. Their baleful yellow eyes now radiate the same blood red glow, while their bodies were cocooned in an aura of unholy energy that resembled black smoke. 

“I think that big monster placed some kind of enchantment on the smaller ones!” Amy’s electronically-synthesised voice crackled over Captain Khazan's communications earpiece as the enhanced beasts ignored the illusory Captain Khazans to make a beeline for him and Amy Coleman.

The creatures attacked the Sentinels with greater strength, speed and aggressiveness than they had previously shown, proving Amy’s hypothesis correct. Even in their enhanced state, they still proved no match for the mighty Captain as he demolished them in droves, but with their increased ferocity, even he began to feel the pressure mounting on him.

“I think a tactical retreat might be prudent,” Captain Khazan remarked as he swatted away an incoming fireball and sent another monster flying with a snap kick. 

Amy nodded as she ran over to the unconscious Unsubtle to drag her out, but a fireball exploded on the ground between the two women, forcing the psychic to jump back, as Captain Khazan placed an arm around her shoulder, shaking his head. “I hate to say this, but leave her!” 

A quick read of Captain Khazan’s troubled expression showed that it wasn’t a decision he made lightly or enjoyed. Even if The Unsubtle was a villain, leaving her behind in a cave full of demonic beasts went against everything the SLJ stood for. Casting one final, sad look at where The Unsubtle lay, Amy Coleman allowed Captain Khazan to pick her up in his arms. 

Backing towards the cave opening with Amy in his arms, Captain Khazan levitated before taking off at full speed, shooting out of the cave mouth with his fellow Sentinel. “May the Archons have mercy on us all,” Captain Khazan murmured as he took to the skies, shaking his head.

 

Segment 8: Alone and Unarmed

Inside a chamber of the Endless Caves, the din of battle had faded into silence that was only periodically broken by the monsters’ breathing as they stood over the unconscious Marauder, studying her and not knowing what to make of the situation – the brunette was still alive, but posed no threat at the moment. 

As the beasts deliberated wordlessly, one of them decided to act as The Unsubtle showed signs of stirring; stepping forward with its claws raised, ready to deliver a killing blow. But a man's voice – composed and professional – echoed from the darkness.

“Stop,” And with just one word, the creature stayed its hand and stepped back.

“Ooh, my head…” The Unsubtle groaned as she sat up, finding herself surrounded by monsters, but for reasons the gunslinger could not fathom they were content to stand by and observe instead of showing any aggression. “They’re not attacking? But why?”

“You’ll have to forgive the Deminites’ rudeness, miss,” That same male voice spoke again, from behind the Deminites’ ranks. “They make loyal guards, but they’re not particularly bright.” The Deminites’ formation parted as a man stepped into view. 

The Unsubtle squinted at the sight of the unknown man that arrived. He was a curiosity; tall and lanky, with an attractive face framed by chin-length cornflower blue hair with spiky bangs hanging over his forehead, and dressed immaculately in a finely-tailored business suit and tie over a royal purple shirt. His attire made him seem oddly out of place – the man looked like he belonged in a corporate boardroom, not the Endless Caves.

It was the incongruous nature of his appearance that put The Unsubtle on the defensive as she sprang back to her feet, eliciting a faint chuckle from the man. “Do not worry, miss. I mean you no harm, unless you plan on starting a fight,” he said as he stepped forward, pausing briefly to pick up The Unsubtle’s Delta Elite before inching closer. 

The Unsubtle’s eyes widened at the sight of the pistol being picked up. Her pistol. “Hey, hands off my stuff!” She spat as her hand darted to her left thigh where she kept her holdout weapon – a .357 Magnum Ruger LCR. The Marauder was fast, but the man was much faster. 

In the span of milliseconds that it took for The Unsubtle to place her hand on her revolver’s grip, the blue-haired man already had her Delta Elite pointed in her face. “I hope you’re kidding,” he remarked in a tone that was half bemused and half mocking as his finger rested against the trigger. All the while the Deminites growled ominously. 

The Unsubtle stared at the man who had her own weapon trained on her, then at the Deminites behind him. Then she laughed sardonically as she abandoned the attempt to draw her revolver on him. “Ha, yeah. I'm kidding! No offense there, Mr… Mr… wait, what's your name again?”

“Avalon. Jon “Darkenfire” Avalon,” The man replied. “And to whom do I owe the pleasure of being acquainted with?” Jon asked as he lowered the pistol. 

“Name's Jessica Carlisle, but they call me The Unsubtle,” The Unsubtle tried to maintain her brave front. “Just so you know, Mr. Avalon, that these caves your friends call home run under the territory of Zel’Mier, and that means you’re squatting on Toc Darkone’s property.”

Jon Avalon sniggered, “Oh of that I’m aware. But you’re mistaken if you think this land belongs to your boss.”

“What do you mean?” Jessica asked.

“The Marauder occupation of Zel’Mier is a recent occurrence. We on the other hand have claimed dominion over this part of the Endless Caves for a decade, long before your syndicate ousted Delagon’s regime,” Avalon replied. “We've been observing events on the surface the whole time, the Sentinels, The Marauders, The Fallen… We’ve been studying your movements.”

“For what? Just what are you planning down here?” The Unsubtle wondered. 

“Follow me then, all will be revealed deeper down in the caves,” The Deminites’ ranks parted to allow a path for Jon Avalon and The Unsubtle. 

“Sorry, but I think I’ll pass; you fellows are suspicious as hell,” The Unsubtle remarked, hoping that she could be granted exit from the caves to report her findings back to Toc Darkone in Zel’Myas. 

Jon chuckled dryly at The Unsubtle’s rejection of his offer. “Acting out again, are you? In case you haven’t noticed, Ms. Carlisle, this isn’t an invitation,” he smirked as he pointed her Delta Elite at her once more while the Deminites snarled and gathered flames in their claws. 

“Okay, okay, I’ll bite!” The Unsubtle raised her hands, nodding. “Lead on.”

“Good, I’m glad you ultimately chose to handle this like a civilised, mature adult,” Jon said as he twirled the pistol by its trigger guard and then offered it back, grip-first to The Unsubtle, who accepted her returned weapon with shaky hands before following the strange man and his retinue of Deminites deeper into the Endless Caves. If nothing else, this was her chance to learn what she could about this new threat and figure out their weaknesses. 

 

Segment 9: Trouble Brewing

Far from the city limits of Araelgrad, Vincentzo Maiinverno enjoyed a leisurely walk in the untamed wilds of Araelis. ‘A beautiful land like Araelis can only truly prosper under the hand of a strong leader such as I, Vincentzo Maiinverno,’ the archmage thought, taking in the breathtaking visuals of the virgin woodlands at where the borders of Araelis and Zel’Mier intersect. 

For a man of royal birth, for too long he’d been a crown prince without a throne to succeed, but soon, all this would change. ‘With Araelis under my wing, I will fulfill my divine destiny, and set right what went wrong with Eroneth,’ Vincentzo closed his eyes, recalling how he was the lone survivor of a magical cataclysm that plane-shifted his entire kingdom to the Dark Realm. 

He’d failed his people, disgraced his ancestors. And Archons forbid that he repeat the same mistakes with Araelis.

Maiinverno’s train of thought was interrupted by the sound of the birds taking flight, as entire flocks of birds inexplicably abandoned their roosts and took to the skies. The archmage didn’t need to wait long to figure out what agitated the birds, as his ears picked up the sound of vegetation being trampled underfoot. 

It wasn’t just a few, but hundreds. Possibly thousands. Looking down from his position atop the forested ridge, Vincentzo gasped at what he saw. Marching through the woods was an army – not of men, but monsters. Demonic humanoids, lizardmen, wolf-like beasts and other abominations that defied description marched in formation. 

What caught Maiinverno’s attention was the leader of this monstrous army – a lizardman-like creature with pearl-white scales and a mouth full of needle-sharp teeth marched at the front, carrying a weapon that looked like a halberd. In stark contrast to his demonic lizard look, a pair of angelic-looking wings with pure white feathers grew out from his back, creating a disturbing juxtaposition. 

‘By the Archons, what manner of abominations are these?’ The archmage was no stranger to monsters; the army moving below him gave him similar vibes as the Dark Realm denizens he’d fought back in his time at Eroneth. But unlike the darkspawn, these moved with a sense of purpose and coordination. 

Vincentzo had no idea what these creatures wanted, but he was certain that their appearance within Araelis territory couldn’t be good news. ‘I doubt they have any good intentions coming to Araelis, but this could be a perfect opportunity for me,’ Despite the danger they posed, the archmage realised that this was his chance to prove to the people of Araelis that he was the strong leader they’d yearned for. 

Before he could formulate a plan to ambush the demonic army however, Vincentzo felt a chill run down his spine as his magical senses warned of impending danger. A faint rustle issued from the nearby trees, and the archmage’s combat instincts kicked in as he rolled aside, barely a fraction of a second before what looked like laser beams flashed from the trees and tore through the ground he was standing on earlier. 

‘Of course they’d have a vanguard scouting ahead of the main formation! How foolish of me to assume they’re stupid,’ Vincentzo thought as he placed his hands together and whispered an arcane incantation. “Not bad for peons, but you’re still ten years too early to face me! Incinera!” A large fireball, far more powerful than the ones used by the Deminites, manifested in Vincentzo’s hands. The archmage let fly his incendiary orb towards where the laser beams fired from, engulfing an entire copse of trees in flames.

Monsters, their bodies ablaze, stumbled forth from the sea of fire, their inhuman screams piercing the air as they thrashed about and died in unspeakable agony. However, his magical precognition continued to tingle. “That Incinera must’ve gotten their attention!” The archmage said to himself as he heard more footsteps headed his way. 

“Drat!” Vincentzo hissed as monsters advanced up the ridge from multiple directions; but leading the monsters was a powerfully-built middle-aged bald man, with a scar running across his face over his left eye and a goatee-stache, decked out in a set of battle armour forged from a black alloy with dark purple highlights and armed with a wicked-looking glaive.

“Well, well, look who the Hunter-Killers caught snooping around?” The bald warrior remarked as the Deminites and other monsters under his command spread out to encircle Vincentzo. “Wasn’t expecting combat engagement so early, but the orders stand – none from Araelis may live!”

“Have you no idea who you are addressing, knave? Before you stands Vincentzo Maiinverno, royal archmage!” The royal wizard asserted himself, giving his cape a dramatic swish. “Araelis is my domain, and you taint this land by bringing these fiends here; if you have even the slightest bit of prudence, you will leave and never return!” 

“How typical of royalty… insufferable as ever,” The armour-clad warrior scowled. “But if you’re the ruler of Araelis as you claim, you just saved me a lot of trouble.”

“Such impudence! Do you think you and your army of darkspawn would stand a chance against me?” Vincentzo retorted. “You’ve had your chance. Now you will face the consequences!” 

The armoured baldie gave a derisive chuckle in response to the archmage’s bluster. “Someone’s gotten ahead of himself after killing a few Hunter-Killers…” He fixed a cold stare on the Deminites, “Kill him.”

The Deminites roared in unison as they charged, ready to tear the archmage to shreds. A circle of glowing orange glyphs surrounded Maiinverno as he dropped onto one knee and slammed his left palm on the ground, sending out a circular wall of fire that expanded omnidirectionally. “Now you will behold my power!” 

The enemy commander merely laughed, “Oh? What power?”

Vincentzo's eyes widened in shock and disbelief as the Deminites held out claws and the flames stopped advancing, as if being commanded by the creatures. Gesturing with their claws, the circle of fire began closing in on its own caster as realisation sunk in that the Deminites were manipulating the flames from his own spell! 

“End it,” The scar-faced bladesman commanded. With a chorus of roars, the Deminites made the circle of fire collapse in on the archmage, seemingly engulfing him with his own spell as a 30 metre column of fire erupted from where the blonde once stood.

“He evaded,” The commander remarked as the blaze died down, noticing the lack of any burnt human remains atop the charred earth. 

“Right here, bumpkins!” A familiar shout rang from above. Lifting their heads, the Deminites were treated to the sight of Vincentzo phasing back into reality in midair, arcs of electricity crackling around him. As the archmage landed, he unleashed his spell of Chain Lightning, sending powerful forks of lightning that tore through the Deminites’ ranks, killing over a dozen of them in a fell swoop. 

“Teleportation? You’re a sly one, I’ll give you that. Reptillions, you’re up!” The enemy commander barked orders at the green-scaled lizardmen-like creatures that were advancing up the ridge to reinforce the Deminites, waving falchion-like swords in their hands as their long tails swished to and fro to signal their excitement to commence battle. 

“Hmph, swords,” Vincentzo huffed, folding his arms over his chest. “Your demons wielded fire and deathrays against me to no avail, and you expect a gaggle of lizards with swords to do any better?”

“Relax, your highness, the real fun is about to begin,” The scar-faced baldie said in a patronising voice as another column of Deminites and Reptillions advanced up the ridge. They were accompanied by another much larger monster, identical to the one encountered by Captain Khazan and Amy Coleman in the Endless Caves. 

“Alright, Hive Guard, see to it that the Deminite Soldiers and Reptillions succeed in their task,” The enemy commander remarked as the towering minion lumbered past him. 

A glowing red hexagram appeared under the Hive Guard’s feet as it threw its head back to let loose a thunderous roar, bathing its surroundings with a blood red glow. “By the Archons! How is it possible for a critter with no mouth to roar so loudly?” Vincentzo wondered as he covered his ears with his hands, barely able to hear his own voice above the noise. 

As the deathly red glow radiating from the Hive Guard’s body faded, a change took hold of the smaller minions as their eyes glowed red like the Hive Guard’s while wisps of black smoke streamed from the pores on their bodies. 

The Reptillions issued a shrill cry and attacked the archmage with a level of aggression not previously seen, running at a stunning speed that would leave an Olympic sprinter in the dust. Vincentzo barely had time to react as they closed the distance in no time, the nearest lizardman leaping right at him with its sword poised to cut him down. 

Almost simultaneously, the Reptillion’s cries were chorused by another high-pitched war cry of “AAAAIII-YAGH!” as an unknown warrior catapulted himself through the air and landed a fierce kick on the Reptillion’s face, sending it flying back as though rammed by a speeding truck. 

“Evildoers trying to wreak havoc? Think again!” The unknown fighter landed in a three point stance before standing up. “Evil beware, for POWAAA!!!-Man is here!” 

The enemy commander, who’d till now been observing the battle with sarcasm and dispassion appeared stunned by the newcomer. “Pow… aaa… Man? What kind of a name is that!?”

“Woose? What are you doing here? And what’s with that ridiculous pink outfit!?” Vincentzo was equally stunned by the arrival of the simpleton from Araelgrad, Woose Brain, who was now dressed in a pink martial artist’s gi. 

“Woose Brain? No, I am POWAAA!!!-Man! It's flattering of you to compare me with that handsome young man though,” The martial artist replied, wagging his hand sheepishly before touching his cheek. And then the realisation hit when his hand felt bare skin.

“Oh no!” Woose exclaimed, pulling at his hair in dismay. “Not the mask! I forgot the mask!”

Without missing a beat, Woose Brain switched back into his POWAAA!!!-Man persona and took a fighting stance. “Alright, it's time for you to face POWAAA!!!-Man’s feet of justice!” 

“What stinks in here?” Vincentzo asked, his nose twitching as he became aware of a foul smell. He’d noticed it the moment Woose showed up, but it only got stronger as the pink-clad martial artist positioned himself next to the archmage. 

“Oh, don’t mind me,” Woose replied. “It’s my specialty weapon as POWAAA!!!-Man. Don’t be too shocked when you see it in action, eheh.” With that, the archmage and the pugilist stood back to back as the Hive Guard enhanced minions encircled them.

 

Segment 10: Audience with the Chaos Lord

For what felt like hours to The Unsubtle, she followed Jon Avalon deeper and deeper into the Endless Caves, escorted every step of the way by the Hive Guard and Deminite Soldiers. They passed through winding passageways and cavernous chambers, all lined with the lustrous black rock that the female Marauder had seen in the passage where she encountered the first Hive Guard. 

“Curious, are you?” Jon remarked as he glanced over his shoulder, noticing how Jessica kept looking at the material lining the walls and ceiling. “That’s the handiwork of Deminite Workers. They can transmute virtually any inorganic material into umbricite, also known as Darkstone.”

“I see… just how much further are we supposed to go anyway?” The Unsubtle remarked.

“Not far, we’ve reached the main fortress complex,” Avalon said as the current passage they were in led them to the top of a rockface overlooking what could be the largest cave chamber The Unsubtle had ever seen, so vast that from their current position she could not see the other end of the chamber.

“By the Archons, it’s like they've built an entire city here…” She muttered. Or rather, a demonic mockery of a city. From her elevated position, she could see what looked like a city, abuzz with activity. Towers of flesh with liquid-filled sacs rose towards the ceiling, growing on umbricite columns for support. Deminite Workers toiled non-stop to construct more umbricite columns and spires. Infernal forges blazed to produce hellish armaments. 

But the single most distinctive feature in this subterranean city was a massive castle-like structure in the distance, which by The Unsubtle's reckoning took up no less than a third of the space in this titanic chamber, with its many umbricite spires and towers, the imposing citadel was as terrifying as it was impressive.

It took nearly an hour for The Unsubtle to cross the gigantic cave chamber to reach the citadel, and as she observed the activity going about her, she could only wonder how they could’ve built all these in just a decade. As they approached the entrance archway, the two Hive Guards defending it stepped aside to allow Jon Avalon to pass, leading The Unsubtle closely behind. 

Once inside, they passed more hallways, galleries and rooms until they arrived at an imposing set of double doors that slowly swung open, leading into a circular hall resembling an indoor amphitheatre. The Deminites and Hive Guard remained outside as Jon Avalon and The Unsubtle stepped in, with the doors slowly swinging shut behind them. 

“What now?” The Unsubtle asked.

“We wait for His arrival,” Jon replied as he got down reverently on one knee. The room began to chill as the spectral blue flames of the torches dimmed a notch and wisps of gray smoke began to pour out from tiny vents in the walls and ceiling, moving across the floor as if alive.

The gray smoke coalesced into a cloud in the middle of the amphitheatre, emitting arcs of red and white lightning as a black silhouette took shape within. Squinting her eyes, The Unsubtle thought it resembled a dragon – she was able to make out what looked like a lizard-like body with wings and numerous spines running down the length of its back. 

Or at least, that was what she could make out. The rest of the details were hazy and indistinct save for a pair of eyes giving off an ominous red glow that pierced through the fog. Despite being not psychically attuned in the slightest, even The Unsubtle could feel an immense spiritual pressure radiating from the figure which made her feel a growing unease.

“Who… Who are you?” She asked, the words leaving her mouth with difficulty. Before, the room gave a cold and dreary atmosphere. Now, the vibe had changed to a heavy and oppressive one, suffocating even. 

“I am the Eminent One. Absolute, undisputed ruler of the Drekis Empire. I. Am. Drekis.” The entity replied, in that same many-toned, chorus-like voice. “It was not my intention to give you such a rude welcome when you set foot in the Endless Caves, but my Deminites aren’t too bright… They must have mistaken you for a hero.”

“As a Marauder, I’m certainly no hero. Just what are you doing down here, Drekis?” The Unsubtle tried to put on a brave front, but the cold sweat rolling down her forehead and the wavering in her voice made the act hardly convincing, as she struggled to contain the primal fear rising inside her, resisting the urge to either run away screaming or prostrate herself in submission. 

“Cutting right to the chase, huh? I like that!” Drekis chuckled in his hellish, chorus-like voice. “Allow me to humour you. No doubt my Magister Jon Avalon had already told you, I’ve been studying the people of Khazan for years. I have grand ambitions, ambitions that align with the philosophies of The Marauders and The Fallen. I believe that the dark powers of Khazan are the ones who hold the keys to this world’s future.”

“Yes,” Jon Avalon added, rising to his feet. “For years, we have been putting our Archon’s plans into motion. Soon the hives and forges will meet the army production quota, and once the rest of His Eminence’s Magisters have gathered, we will lead His armies to the surface to commence our attacks.”

“Our ultimate goal is the annihilation of the SLJ and Maniacal Heroes,” Drekis’ many-toned voice hissed as his form writhed and pulsed. “Once they are out of the picture, the dark powers will take control of this planet once and for all.”

“Let me guess…” The Unsubtle chorused. “You want to enlist the help of The Marauders? But on what grounds can I, or any Marauder for that matter, trust you?”

“A most expected response; you are well-justified to be skeptical… however, I think you will find my deal to be a pleasant surprise,” Drekis replied, his eyes narrowing. “Let’s just say that this is just the latest phase of a campaign that has lasted five millennia, but the details of said campaign is not of your concern. But I will say this much – I care not for wealth; I have no need for such things. Thus, when the SLJ and Maniacal Heroes are vanquished, The Marauders can help themselves to all of Khazan’s riches.”

Jon chimed in, “What we need to ensure our success is more information on the SLJ and Maniacal Heroes. While we have a network of informants all over Khazan, there is only so much we can gather by spying from outside. I believe that those who have been constantly at war with these heroes would have more detailed inside information on their weaknesses.”

“I see,” The Unsubtle commented. “So in exchange for intel, we get your assistance in defeating the Sentinels?”

“Yes, in a manner of speaking,” Drekis replied. “This will not be an exclusive deal with The Marauders, as the Drekis Empire will also be seeking partnerships with The Fallen in a similar capacity.”

“Well, hate to disappoint you then,” The Unsubtle looked Drekis in the eyes, “But The Marauders and The Fallen have never been quite on the same page. Hell, our values clash in so many ways it’s not even funny. Also, it’s not my place to broker any deals between the Drekis Empire and Marauders. Tell you what though, you grant me safe passage back to Zel’Myas and I’ll relay your offer to Toc Darkone.”

“That can be done,” Drekis replied. “Let Toc Darkone know that he can take his time to think it over. But know that once the time comes, I will start my campaign against the Sentinels with or without The Marauders by my side.”

“Oh sure, blow them to kingdom come; I certainly won’t be shedding any tears for them,” The female Marauder shrugged.

“Very well, Ms. Carlisle,” Drekis said as the double doors creaked open and a human-like minion resembling a knight decked out from head to toe in a black suit of ornate battle armour stepped in. “One of my minions will escort you back to the surface.” 

The armour-clad minion said nothing as The Unsubtle tried to read his expression behind his full-face helm, before slowly raising a gauntleted hand and beckoning for the gunslinger to follow him. The Unsubtle stole one last look at Drekis and Jon Avalon, before following the Demon Knight out of Drekis’ throne room, the double doors closing once more.

“Your Eminence, do you think it’s a good idea to let Toc Darkone know this much about us?” Jon Avalon asked once he was alone with Drekis inside the amphitheatre.

“It matters not,” Drekis rasped, his mass pulsating as a dozen pairs of eyes appeared all over the dark silhouette, looking at Jon. “We have convinced The Marauders to regard us as an ally. Toc Darkone is no fool – I have no doubts that he will see through the ruse sooner rather than later, but even then he will most likely prioritise consolidating The Marauders’ hold over Zel’Mier than declare war on us.”

“They don’t see us as competition either way,” Jon Avalon chorused.

“That’s correct, Avalon. So they won’t lift a finger against us,” Drekis concluded. “Not until the Sentinels and other heroes of Khazan are facing extermination. But by then it will be too late.”

“Yes, Eminent One,” Jon bowed reverently. “The troops under my command are ready to march forth on your call. I heard that Aigonis and Deimos are already mobilising the vanguard of their respective contingents.”

“Excellent,” Drekis said as his form shifted, a single giant red eye taking up the black silhouette. “Then it will only be a matter of time before Araelis and Cretalia fall.”

“I’d give them before the end of the month, tops,” Avalon remarked.

Drekis’ silhouette quaked with laughter, and shifted once more as an impossibly huge mouth filled with jagged teeth materialised to flash a diabolical grin, “Perhaps my plans will be set into motion faster than I thought. Avalon...”

“Yes, my Archon?” Jon Avalon asked, sensing an impending order.

“Your part in this campaign is to lead your contingent to Xaelon. See to it that the nation burns to the ground. As a sign of the Drekis Empire’s second advent, Xaelon will be where my hammer lands its first blow,” With his orders to Avalon issued, Drekis’ form would dissipate, the gray smoke vanishing without a trace as the ambient lighting returned to their original brightness.

“I shall do so with haste, Your Eminence,” The Magister replied as the double doors to Drekis’ throne room swung open to grant him exit. As Jon walked out, he initiated a transformation sequence as he held out his arms, manifesting fluorescent green flames in his hands, which rapidly spread over his body and burned his civilian attire to ashes, momentarily leaving him in the buff before the eldritch energies from the flames condensed into a form-fitting black bodysuit that covered him from neck-down.

More energy condensed around him to create a suit of armour over his bodysuit as gauntlets, vambraces, greaves, faulds and a cuirass materialised – all black as the void of space and bearing intricate demonic motifs that gave off a ghostly green glow. To top off his battle garb, a pair of pauldrons and a royal purple cape materialised. With the remaining flickers of the spectral green flames in his hands, Jon brushed back his bangs to make his hair stand in upright spikes, exposing his forehead and brows.

From a space between spaces in his disincorporated form, Drekis watched as Jon “Darkenfire” Avalon left his citadel to rally his contingent and march forth out of the Endless Caves. “Soon my time will come. Let the people of Khazan know of my name on his planet that’s overflowing with power,” His multi-tonal voice echoed through every room and corridor in his citadel, everywhere and at the same time nowhere, “Once I am done here, I will finally have what I need to finish what I started thousands of years ago!”


To be continued...

 

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Onward to Chapter 2: Prelude to Massacre

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