War of Drekis, Rearmed - Chapter 2: Prelude to Massacre

[Justin Law]

Chapter 2: Prelude To Massacre

 

Segment 11: Dancing With Monsters

Vincentzo and POWAAA!!!-Man stood back to back as the horde of Deminites surrounded them, gnashing their teeth and drooling as they eyed the duo, bloodlust painted over their grotesque faces as the Hive Guard’s aura enhanced their strength and aggression, while the Reptillions – similarly amped-up – waved their swords to signal their eagerness to spill blood. 

Against Vincentzo’s expectations, POWAAA!!!-Man stepped to the front and struck what he believed was a keen martial arts stance as he stood in a crane pose, right knee lifted and arms raised like a bird spreading its wings, showing complete obliviousness to the imminent danger. 

“Woose?” The archmage shook his head. “Just what do you think you’re doing? These foes are above your station, you should leave them to me.” There was an undercurrent of concern in Vincentzo’s voice; for all his pomposity and self-aggrandisation, the royal archmage possessed a strong sense of noblesse oblige that made him unwilling to let innocents endanger themselves. 

The self-proclaimed martial master looked over his shoulder at Vincentzo, “With all due respect, sire, I disagree. The people need your leadership; so it falls upon I, POWAAA!!!-Man to bring down these evildoers.”

The wizard clicked his tongue in annoyance before pointing in the direction of Araelgrad. “Woose! Now is not the time for pointless chivalry! Head back to Araelgrad to seek refuge; that’s an order!” 

“No, you should seek shelter. Need I remind you that those things could’ve killed you had I not intervened in time?” The pink-clad pugilist retorted, shaking his head. 

“Wait… what!?” Vincentzo shook his head, eyes wide with incredulity, as Woose’s clapback left the wizard stunned.

“Well sire, I mean those things almost-” POWAAA!!!-Man tried to repeat himself, but the archmage cut him off by making a ‘talk to the hand’ gesture. 

“The audacity of you to use such words on a man of my stature!” Woose’s innocuous statement bruised Vincentzo’s royal pride, and something inside the archmage snapped as he clenched his fists so tightly that the knuckles turned white. “To think… a highborn archmage such as I could ever be indebted to a mere peasant!? Preposterous!”

‘For supposed allies, they sure bicker a lot,’ The enemy leader thought as he watched the kvetching between Woose and Vincentzo with a combination of thoughtfulness and cruel amusement. ‘If Khazan’s heroes are all prone to petty squabbles like these two, I’d wager it’ll be only a matter of weeks before the entire world comes under His Eminence’s banner.’ He tousled the hairs of his goatee, and his cruel smirk widened into a devilish grin.

“Enough of this farce! I came here for war, not to watch court jesters perform,” The scar-faced baldie remarked as he pounded the butt of his polearm against the ground and pointed at Vincentzo and Woose. “Deminites, Reptillions, end them!” 

With a roar, three of the Deminites attacked first, loping towards the pair before dropping onto all fours as they closed the distance, thirsting for blood. POWAAA!!!-Man met his foes head on, throwing himself into the fray.

“Fine! Do what you must!” Vincentzo mumbled in resignation as he followed his ally into battle. “But you better not haunt me if you suffer a ghastly demise!”

Tongues of arcane fire gathered in the claw-tipped hands of the frontmost Deminite as it slung a fireball at POWAAA!!!-Man, but the self-proclaimed martial artist evaded the incendiary projectile by leaping, before countering by planting a powerful flying kick to its face. So foul was the odour of his unwashed feet that the creature died near-instantly on catching a whiff, even before its body was sent crashing into its compatriots by the force of the kick.

As the monsters toppled over, Maiinverno followed up by casting a Missile Swarm spell, sending a salvo of shimmering projectiles of pure mana that circled around in the air before homing in on the other beasts, piercing their bodies like bullets.

Not wanting to share the Deminites’ fate, the Reptillions spread out as they attempted an encirclement manoeuvre, trying to intimidate Vincentzo and Woose by performing a savage war dance as they waved their swords in the air, their heads and tails thrashing left and right and their forked tongues flicking around erratically while hopping wildly. 

POWAAA!!!-Man and Vincentzo once more stood back-to-back with each other and sized up their enemies, re-assessing the situation. “Circumstance dictates that we reassess our strategy,” Vincentzo said. “We’ll need to pick and assign targets.”

“I’ll take the big ugly lizard creature!” POWAAA!!!-Man replied.

“Which one!? They’re all big ugly lizard creatures, imbecile!” Vincentzo grumbled, rolling his eyes in frustration.

“Meh, I’ll just dispense with the formalities and pummel everything in sight, that’s what I do best!” With his bold declaration, POWAAA!!!-Man took off like a gust of wind.

“For The Powers’ sake, strategising is not a formality!” Vincentzo groaned in exasperation, but Woose had already descended upon the enemy lines in a tornado of martial arts moves. Two lizardmen fell in an instant to his flurry of punches and kicks. A Deminite slashed at the martial artist with its claws, but he evaded with a well-timed butterfly flip, displaying a surprising amount of grace that belied his ditzy personality.

In mid-flip, POWAAA!!!-Man gave his hips a sharp twist, using the torque to spin his body around in the air to catch the Deminite across the face with a spinning bird kick, sending it flying… and then landing most inelegantly with his head and shoulders to the ground and butt facing the sky.

“Oh dear, how embarrassing!” Woose chuckled sheepishly as he rolled onto his back and then bounced back onto his feet with a kip-up. “I’ll admit that move was still something of a work in progress… one of these days, I’m gonna master it, I swear!” The martial artist spoke with fire in his eyes as he blocked a strike from another Deminite and sent it flying with a left straight to the solar plexus.

All the while, Vincentzo could only watch on as POWAAA!!!-Man bumbled around, landing blows on the enemy while avoiding sword, claw and fire — to an untrained bystander, the pugilist appeared to be stumbling around randomly like a drunkard. But ever the perceptive one, Vincentzo was quick to discern a method to the madness which made Woose’s movement patterns paradoxically erratic yet graceful. 

“Either you’re far more competent than you let on, or I might be fighting alongside the Archon of Bumbling Idiots,” Vincentzo mumbled, not knowing whether his ally was brave or just too dense to understand fear. 

The monsters who weren’t busy with POWAAA!!!-Man were far from content with being idle as they converged upon Vincentzo's position, but the archmage already had a spell prepared for such a scenario as his outline became momentarily hazy, and the attacking Reptillions would suddenly find themselves facing dozens of Vincentzos.

For a moment the Reptillions stood and stared in confusion, before attacking the Vincentzos on the field. A leering Reptillion hissed as it brought its sword down on Vincentzo’s neck, the blow almost severing the archmage’s head from his body; but no blood poured from the wound as Vincentzo collapsed, his features melting away into a glowing white silhouette that dissolved into nothingness in a manner of seconds.

The other Vincentzos that were hit behaved the same — turning into luminous shades that faded away, revealing a cleverly cast illusion spell on the archmage’s part.

 “Behind you, oaf,” A low growl came from behind one Reptillion, and before the lizardman could react, a brilliant yellow beam of energy blasted clean through its back and erupted out of its chest. Another Reptillion turned in the direction of where the beam came from, only to have its head blown off by a second beam.

By capitalising on the confusion created by his illusory copies, Vincentzo had dispatched two foes in swift succession, but in doing so had given his position away as the Reptillions discerned the real deal among the mass of simulacra, swarming towards the real Vincentzo with renewed fury.

One of the Reptillions bore down towards the young wizard in a bestial rage, its roar almost bursting his ear drums as it chopped at Vincentzo with its sword, with the royal archmage only having enough time to avoid taking a blade to the neck, but not enough to dodge it completely as the creature’s weapon found his left shoulder, slicing through the pauldron that made up Vincentzo’s ceremonial mantle. 

“Craven whoreson! How dare you sully this magnificent body!” Vincentzo hissed through clenched teeth. The armour piece absorbed the brunt of the strike, but enough of the blade still went through to cut shallowly into his deltoid; it was nothing life-threatening or debilitating in the short term, but it hurt like hell!

Grappling the archmage, the Reptillion attempted to follow up the sword strike with a devastating bite, but Vincentzo managed to free himself by discharging another energy beam point-blank through the creature’s chest before shoving its lifeless body aside.

Rolling to put more distance between himself and the monsters, a circle of glowing glyphs appeared between Vincentzo's outstretched hands as he cast another spell at his attackers. “Sparkleblast!” The archmage shouted the name of his spell as sparkly points of light poured out from the centre of his spell circle, drifting into the Reptillions’ ranks before exploding like fireworks. 

While the lizardmen were distracted by the arcane pyrotechnics, the archmage readied one of his higher circle spells, a circle of glyphs materialising beneath his feet as he performed the mudras, his features lighting up under the glyphs’ fiery orange glow while his cape flapped under a sudden wind as he chanted the incantations.

“Apollo of the Sun, I call upon your authority to punish these upstarts!” Vincentzo shouted as he finished the incantations, lifting his hands in the air as a snarling ball of fire resembling a miniature sun that rapidly expanded in all directions to voraciously consume everything in its path. “Judgement Flare!”

The nearby Reptillions stood no chance as the wave of heat and flames disintegrated their bodies, leaving not even ash in its wake, while those further away were reduced to charred cinders. At the end of it, Vincentzo was left standing triumphant in the middle of a crater of scorched earth, surrounded by charred remains of Reptillions, looking as if a miniature nuke had gone off.

“Let this be known, this is what becomes of louts who forget their place!” Vincentzo huffed as he brushed back his blonde locks before twirling around with aristocratic flair, his cape fluttering.

Meanwhile, POWAAA!!!-Man continued to smash and bludgeon his way through the horde of Deminites, taking vicious claw swipes and searing blasts of magical fire along the way. The martial artist weathered the onslaught with superheroic resilience and inhuman persistence – every time an enemy landed a blow, the pink-clad pugilist would punish them with crushing counterattacks. 

He grabbed one lizard creature by the arm and threw it into another, then immediately followed up with a kick to a Deminite’s face. Despite being a glancing blow, the creature quickly succumbed to the noxious aroma of POWAAA!!!-Man’s foot as it collapsed.

Woose was joined by Maiinverno, who threw everything in his repertoire at the enemy. Chromatic orbs muddled their senses before bolts of chain lightning tore through their ranks and rapid volleys of magic missiles perforated monsters like machine gun fire. Facing the apocalyptic combination of the archmage’s spells and the martial artist’s fists, monsters died in droves, yet more of them continued to push forward, ferocious as ever.

“Foul beasts! Do they not have any concept of self-preservation?” Vincentzo wondered, his voice tinged with frustration and mounting fatigue.

Woose stole a glance in Vincentzo’s direction, and gasped at the transformation that the archmage had undergone – Maiinverno’s eyes had gone bloodshot, while a web of phosphorescent blue veins covered his face and ran down the length of his neck, vanishing under his collar. “‘Centzo, you…” the martial artist murmured, trying to figure out what was going on with the royal wizard, who looked like he was undergoing some kind of overload.

“Woose! Cover me!” Vincentzo ordered as he stepped behind POWAAA!!!-Man, reaching for a waist pouch with utmost urgency. From it, the archmage retrieved a small potion bottle filled with a clear liquid in a rich azure hue, before uncorking the bottle with his teeth and hastily gulping down its contents. Vincentzo took deep breaths as the glowing veins faded away and his eyes returned to normal, re-energised by the mana potion.

“Watch this, Woose – I’m going to teach these lowlife mongrels to never forget their place,” A mana-recharged Maiinverno stepped forward, a pair of purple circle of glowing glyphs swirling around his hands as a black sphere surrounded by purple arcs of energy materialised in midair.

The black sphere shot into the sky at Vincentzo’s cue, creating a powerful updraft of wind in its wake as the demonic minions found themselves being pulled skywards. With a dramatic swish of the archmage’s cape, the black sphere dived back down, sinking underneath the ground – with that, just as suddenly as they were pulled into the air, the creatures would plummet at a blistering speed; far beyond what natural terminal velocity would allow, their bodies pancaking on impact with the ground.

“Do base-born knaves such as you think you could ever approach my station? Truly, you are deluded,” Vincentzo remarked, so engrossed was he at admiring his own handiwork that he failed to notice a Reptillion leaping at him from the edge of his peripheral vision; and by the time he spun round to face his attacker, the creature’s sword was mere inches away from his face.

But before the lizardman could land a killing blow, a sudden flash of energy streaked across the battlefield, slamming into the beast like a cannonball and sending it flying. Maiinverno turned around in the direction of where the energy bolt came from, and saw Woose standing in the middle of a circle of vanquished foes, palms outstretched.

“Wait… Did you just discharge a ki blast?” Vincentzo asked, his voice wavering with incredulity.

“I had my doubts using a technique that I’m still working on, but in a situation like this it was now or never,” Woose replied a matter-of-factly before holding up his right hand to flash a peace sign at Vincentzo. “Well sire, you owe me one more now.”

“To that false blather I say nay!” Maiinverno snapped back. “I saw that cur coming, your intervention was unnecessary!”

POWAAA!!!-Man shrugged. “You’re just too proud to admit that you would’ve died several times over had I not stepped in.” There was no antagonism in the martial artist’s tone, it was as if he were merely stating his observations rather than a deliberate verbal retaliation.

“The nerve of you…” Maiinverno gritted his teeth hard at Woose’s statement, so hard that they almost cracked. The archmage was ready to give the martial artist the most savage tongue-lashing he could think of, had he not noticed the towering Hive Guard advancing towards them, swinging the blades that tipped its disproportionately long arms at Woose. 

Without a second thought, Vincentzo lunged forward to shove POWAAA!!!-Man out of the path of the Hive Guard’s attack, but ended up taking a vertical slash to the forehead for his troubles, clutching at his face with his right hand as he reeled from the blow; between the gaps of his fingers however, the archmage’s blue eyes blazed with fury as he shot a death glare at the giant minion.

Roaring, the Hive Guard took another swing at Vincentzo, who casted a teleport spell out of sheer reflex, blinking out of reality before he could get split lengthwise by the beast’s arm blade.

“You didn’t really have to do that for my sake,” Woose remarked as Vincentzo blinked back into reality next to him, the young wizard’s forehead dripping crimson.

“I didn’t do this because I like you,” Maiinverno replied, trying to play it cool. “I did it because it was in our best interests to keep each other alive.”

“Okay… so what’s the game plan now?” Woose asked. “Because I really don’t like the look of this…” The martial artist pointed at the Hive Guard, whose blood-red eyes now bore a ruby glow that was quickly gaining intensity, glowing brighter and brighter by the second.

“Oh… by The Powers That Be… evade!” Vincentzo yelled as a potent optic blast was discharged from the Hive Guard’s eyes, the duo leaping in opposite directions to avoid its wrath as the red beam melted through the ground, carving a large molten fissure through the earth.

“Okay, one ice-cold can of whoop-ass coming up!” POWAAA!!!-Man exclaimed, gusto in his voice as he made a warpath towards the Hive Guard, intent on laying a beatdown on the towering minion, but with a rumbling growl and a cock of its head that served as instructions to the Deminites, the horned minions positioned themselves in front of the Hive Guard, raising their hands and pointing at the fires that were raging all around them as a result of the surrounding vegetation being set aflame by a combination of Vincentzo’s spells and the Deminites’ fire blasts during the battle.

As the Deminites made gestures with their claws, the flames became animate, moving like they had a life of their own, forming a wall of fire that crept towards Vincentzo and Woose, forcing them to abandon their original plan to make a frontal assault. 

And even though the Hive Guard lacked a mouth – or any discernible facial features for that matter save for a pair of eyes – Vincentzo swore that it was looking at them with smugness in its eyes.

“Those things... they’re pyrokinetic!” Woose exclaimed, leaping back to avoid being engulfed by the advancing fire wall.

“Damnation!” Maiinverno chorused. “And I basically gave them all the ammunition in the world.”

“Hey ‘Centzo, gimme a boost!” POWAAA!!!-Man remarked as he got into a stance that looked like he was ready to take a leap.

The royal archmage was taken aback by the pugilist’s request, but obliged nonetheless as he conjured a powerful updraft of air as POWAAA!!!-Man leaped, blowing him several stories into the air – well beyond the reach of the fire wall, allowing him to sail right over the infernal obstacle, before descending like a lightning bolt on the Hive Guard, flipping around twice in the air before delivering a thunderous heel drop to its left shoulder, but the juggernaut of a minion was barely fazed by it as the pink-clad pugilist bounced off on impact.

With a growl that sounded more angry than hurt, the Hive Guard pivoted and caught Woose across the face with a titanic backhand that sent him flying like a ragdoll, before turning its attention back to Vincentzo, advancing with slow, calculated strides.

‘Just how on Khazan does something with hardly any facial features make such a mocking face anyway!?’ Vincentzo screamed in his thoughts. The Hive Guard’s body language, coupled with the look in its eyes made it appear to be telling the archmage, “Gonna stick you like a pig… get ready to squeal.”

The archmage clicked his tongue as he held up his hands to perform sacred mudras, a circle of white glowing glyphs appearing in his hands as an icy chill surrounded him. “I will not brook such insolence from the likes of you! Ereshkigal, take this fiend to your realm of death! Necro Lance!” With the incantation complete, Vincentzo pointed his right hand in a sword gesture – index and middle fingers pointing forward – at the Hive Guard, unleashing a ray of pure necrotic energy that instantly withered the vegetation along its path, yet when it hit the Hive Guard… nothing.

The death spell fizzled harmlessly against a spherical barrier of antimagic projected forth from the towering minion’s body, and Vincentzo swore that it was smiling evilly despite its lack of a mouth.    

 “Such blasphemy!” Maiinverno spluttered, completely flabbergasted at how the creature could so casually shrug off a spell of such a high calibre. “How is that possible…”

“Hive Guards are virtually immune to arcane magic as their inherent ability,” The armour-clad baldie gloated as he ruffled his goatee-stache. “Guess the mighty archmage isn’t so high and mighty now, eh?”

As the Hive Guard continued to saunter towards Vincentzo, the archmage redoubled his efforts, burning through his mana reserves as he barraged the behemoth with everything in his repertoire – razor wind, fireballs, lightning bolts, stone missiles, cryo beams… nothing worked as his body once more began to overload under the magical strain, the Hive Guard now looming over him.

Vincentzo glared at the Hive Guard through bloodshot eyes as glowing veins crisscrossed his face and body, defiant even in his exhausted state as the archmage reached for his belt and drew an ivory and mother of pearl handled dagger from its ornate sheath, getting into a knife-fighting stance as he steeled himself for a grim last stand.

“Ha, that’s cute,” The enemy leader gave a derisive snort of laughter. “Just what are you planning to do with that little knife of yours?” 

“Even to my last dying breath, I, Vincentzo Maiinverno, resolve to not allow plebeian dogs like you to besmirch my royal pride,” the royal archmage growled, eliciting another laugh from the enemy captain.

 “Then die,” The Discordant Scion said as he lifted his free hand; acting on the enemy leader’s cue, the Hive Guard raised one of its arm blades, looking to finish the archmage once and for all, before a piercing war cry echoed across the field.

“Uuu-WATAAH!” With that shrill cry, POWAAA!!!-Man catapulted himself back into the fray as he surprised the Hive Guard with a flying Superman punch to the face that rocked it. The behemoth growled with rage as it regained its footing, but the pink-clad martial artist wasn’t about to give it any breathing room as he went medieval on it with every move in his arsenal – jabs, hooks, low blows, uppercuts, hammer blows, liver shots, headbutts, snap kicks, axe kicks, roundhouse kicks – punctuating every blow with a whoop and scream as he did his best Bruce Lee impression.

Under POWAAA!!!-Man’s renewed fury, the Hive Guard began feeling the blows as it reeled under the assault. The finishing blow in this dazzling combo came in the form of a vicious right straight to the belly, causing the towering minion to crumple to its knees as Woose took the moment to take a breather. “How does it feel, huh!?” he blustered as he flipped the bird at the kneeling beast with his right hand.

The Hive Guard’s eyes glowed as it roared, recovering faster than Woose had anticipated. He’d barely caught his breath as the beast lashed out with one of its arm blades, slicing through the same arm that was still flipping the bird, severing muscle, ligaments and bone like they were tofu. 

The martial artist staggered, wild-eyed from shock and disbelief as he stared at his dismembered limb twitching on the ground. “My arm!” Woose yelled. “What did you do with my arm!? YOU BASTARD!!” With a primal roar, the pugilist flew into a berserker rage as he dived at the Hive Guard and laid another barrage into it, not caring how he struck or where he struck, so long as his blows landed.

Vincentzo watched with stunned disbelief as the now one-armed Woose continued to hammer away without any regard for his injury, which oddly showed no signs of any bleeding, when blood should’ve been spurting freely from the stump. Lost in his frenzy, POWAAA!!!-Man failed to notice the Hive Guard rearing up to chop the martial artist’s head off. “By the Powers That Be, this had better work!” Vincentzo said to no-one in particular as he cast one more spell.

Before the Hive Guard could behead Woose, Vincentzo summoned a floating hand that interposed itself over the creature’s face causing its attack to miss the pugilist. The Hive Guard grunted and growled as it stomped around trying to shake off the magical construct, but no matter how it thrashed, the hand was always right there in front of its face, blocking its vision.

“I knew it!” Vincentzo said, his confidence returning. “Your magic resistance only halts direct attacks.”

The Hive Guard’s eyes glowed once more with a deathly red light, before it unleashed another optic blast that disintegrated the hand-shaped construct, but the spell had already served its purpose, for as soon as the Hive Guard’s line of sight was cleared, it was left wide open to a roundhouse kick from POWAAA!!!-Man as his foot landed squarely on its face. Even though the creature appeared to have no nose, it nevertheless possessed a sense of smell, for as mere seconds after Woose’s kick landed, the Hive Guard’s eyes went glassy as it slumped lifelessly to the ground, killed by the toxic aroma of Woose’s feet.

“It seems I’ve underestimated you,” The Discordant Scion’s expression went from mocking to serious as he watched the heroes defeat the Hive Guard. 

“Sure you jest if you thought there could be another outcome,” Vincentzo remarked as he stood tall, facing down the sole remaining threat. 

“I second that,” POWAAA!!!-Man chorused as he picked up his arm and reattached it in a cartoon fashion, his limb returning to normal as if nothing happened to it. “I, POWAAA!!!-Man, could have defeated you just as easily alone.”

Vincentzo rolled his eyes, but kept his attention fixed on his enemy.

The armoured baldie stared at both of them and smirked as he delivered a round of sarcastic applause, “Well, that was a good show; this much was to be expected from a world that's overflowing with power, as His Eminence would put it.”

“So then, you’re next!” POWAAA!!!-Man piped up jubilantly as he spun around and got into a keen horse leg stance, eager to test his mettle against the enemy leader as a wind blew across the battlefield, carrying the acrid stench of smoke to their noses as the combatants locked eyes. 

“Heh, I’ll take this dance,” the baldie replied, his grip tightening around the shaft of his glaive as for a few seconds he and Woose stared eye-to-eye, squinting as they locked each other in a mutual death glare, the bladesman and the pugilist looking ready to square off.

“As much as I’d enjoy this, my current orders are only to scout the area of Araelis and probe its defenses,” The baldie replied as he lowered his weapon and began to turn away. “Consider yourselves lucky for now; the next time you meet me — Yari the Thronebreaker, it will be when Araelgrad is a sea of flames.” 

“Now hold your horses, peon!” Vincentzo interjected, “Just who is this ‘Eminent One’ you claim to take orders from? Why does your liege seek the destruction of Araelis!?”

“Impatient for answers, are you? How typical of your ilk,” Thronebreaker chuckled as he glanced over his shoulder. “All will be revealed in due time. Cherish your remaining days until then.” And with that, the Scion vanished like a phantom. 

“He ran away!” POWAAA!!!-Man exclaimed, running over to where Yari previously stood. 

“No, he was never physically present to begin with,” Vincentzo corrected, his expression grim. “I didn’t sense anything resembling teleportation being used. No gateways, no spatial shifts, nothing…”

“Uh, layman’s terms please?” Woose asked, scratching his head.

Maiinverno sighed as he ruffled his hair, frustrated at his ally’s lack of understanding of arcane lore, but acquiesced anyway. “That yellow-bellied knave was never here in the flesh with us to begin with, but instead had his visage and voice cast from afar.”

“Regardless, we vanquished our foes, that means we won, yes?” POWAAA!!!-Man interjected. Without waiting for Vincentzo’s reply, the pink-clad martial artist jumped as he pumped his right fist into the air. “Victory!”

“Save your merrymaking for another time Woose,” Vincentzo replied, the usually cocksure wizard sounded uncertain. “We may have vanquished a powerful foe, but we are not yet out of danger, for a dark cloud hangs over Araelis’ future.”

“Don’t worry ‘Centzo!” POWAAA!!!-Man proudly reassured. “If anyone attacks Araelgrad, you can count on me to put a stop to their evil deeds!”

“At least there’s a silver lining to this dark cloud,” Vincentzo said with a forced smile as his gaze fell upon the scores of slain monsters that littered the ridge, the lush forests on its slopes now a sea of fire. “The apothecary could benefit from studying these remains,” the archmage got down on one knee to examine a dead Deminite. 

“If we can get a better understanding of our enemy and their weaknesses, we will be able to devise strategies to combat them,” The royal wizard remarked as he held up the Deminite’s hand, examining the claws that tipped its fingers. “Wait… by The Powers, what manner of unholiness is this?”

Vincentzo gasped as black smoke spontaneously rose from the Deminite’s remains, causing him to step back in shock. In a matter of seconds, the creature’s body shriveled up before crumbling away into fine dust that scattered to the winds. 

All around them, the same phenomenon befell the slain enemies’ remains, all turning into dust, and before long there was no sign of a battle having ever taken place save for burning trees and scorched earth. 

 

Segment 12: The Meeting in Thenesiea

Thenesiea was one of Yagami Shinsuke’s favourite places in all of Khazan. Its unique nature was one reason – more than two-thirds of this small state-kingdom’s area was water, all centered around the massive Lake Thenesiea, which despite its name was more accurately an inland sea. The scenery was beautiful; sunlight glistening off the sapphire-blue water as birds flew by overhead. Off in the distance, he could see islands and floating towns.

“It’s not like him to be late,” Yagami said to no-one in particular as he checked the time on his phone, having been waiting at the restaurant for quite some time now, his table located at an alfresco dining area. It was only an hour ago that this particular jetty – lined with shops and eateries – was bustling with activity, but with dusk approaching, people were already heading home as nearby businesses began winding down for the day. 

It was the other reason he liked Thenesiea so much; the people of this state-kingdom had a culture of wrapping up their day early, colloquially referred to by the locals as “the daylight principle” – Thenesieans in general worked only for as long as the sun was up. It was a relaxing change of pace compared to the sleepless cities of Khazan Prime.

The Sentinel couldn’t help but chuckle softly at the irony of being the one to be waiting for his friend and colleague, Daniel Schaefer, who had called him three hours ago to fix this ‘urgent meeting’, the details of which he’d been vague on. “Hopefully, it’s a new case to work on,” Shinsuke remarked as he took another sip of his latte macchiato. With The Fallen being quiet of late and the Marauder occupation of Zel’Mier being handled by the SLJ branch in Axia Prime, Shinsuke hadn’t been seeing action of late and found himself getting restless. 

His hand still on his phone, Yagami idly scrolled down his list of contacts to “Daniel Schaefer”, his thumb hovering above the voice call button when a familiar voice called out from behind, speaking in fluent Japanese but bearing a distinctive Prime-Khazanian accent. “Hey, Yagami-senpai, hope I haven’t kept you waiting too long.”

“Schaefer-kun,” Shinsuke said as a wiry and athletic man with a blonde bowl cut came up to his table, dressed in a maroon shirt, black necktie, dark gray dress slacks and waistcoat that looked unironed. He was a young man, mid-20’s at most, but his unshaven face and messy hair made him look at least a decade older. 

Daniel removed his bronze-rimmed aviator sunglasses and set them on the table before gesturing for a waitress to order a drink as he sat opposite to Shinsuke. “One strawberry sunrise – chilled, not iced. Thanks!” He winked at the waitress as she took down his order. 

“Not too bad, twenty minutes behind the appointed time. But considering you told me how ‘urgent’ this whole thing was, you could’ve at least been more punctual,” Shinsuke remarked dryly as he put his phone away. He noted how his colleague’s usually snazzy attire was creased and rumpled, and instead of his familiar clean-cut appearance Daniel was sporting a five o’clock shadow that looked two to three nights away from growing into a full-blown beard and moustache.

“The lateness and your lack of grooming… my kohai has been slacking off, huh?” Yagami raised an eyebrow. 

The junior Sentinel laughed nervously, rustling his soon-to-be beard, “Guilty as charged, senpai. I've been on… vacation, so to speak. As in, there’s a sheer lack of Sentinel assignments around here. But all that looks due to change! That’s why I called you over.”

“It must be something pretty big for you to drag me all the way out here,” Shinsuke said as he steepled his fingers together as he rested his hands on the table. 

“Okay, the Sentinels’ leadership council summoned me to HQ in Khazan City last week, said they’re considering transferring us to the Cretalia branch,” Daniel remarked. “And by ‘us’ they mean me and senpai.”

“Say what?” The normally reserved Yagami almost jumped out of his chair as the news hit him like a sledgehammer. “What’s going on in Cretalia? Shouldn't they assign us to Zel’Mier instead? If I had a seat on the council, I would've proposed a SLJ intervention right from Day One of the Marauder occupation instead of letting this issue sit for months.”

Daniel sighed as he slumped back, “That’s just how it is. Given the turn of events over the past decade, the last thing the Central Government in Khazan Prime wanted was another all-out war between heroes and villains. And any full-scale operation by the Sentinels to liberate Zel’Mier will invariably escalate into an all-out war between us and The Marauders, which the suits in the capitol want so desperately to avoid.”

The blonde continued as Shinsuke took another sip of latte macchiato, “But it’s not all gloom and doom! At least one person on the Sentinels council shares your sentiments – you heard of what went down in Karia? Uberman is meeting the Central Government to propose taking a measured, incremental approach towards intervening in Zel’Mier. But that doesn’t concern us right now, what concerns us is that there are some major developments in Cretalia.”

“Well, you got my attention…” Shinsuke remarked, smiling wryly. He knew he made the right choice back when he nominated Uberman to be the head of the leadership council. 

“There was a recent report from that one girl, Shirai… something? Sorry but I didn't catch her full name,” Daniel remarked as the waitress brought his beverage to the table; a strawberry sunrise served in a tall glass, garnished with an orange slice and a hibiscus flower.

“That’s Shirai Natsumi,” Shinsuke replied, raising his voice to be heard above the crashing of waves. “Pray tell, what’s she been up to of late?” 

“Well, same thing as always – freaking out over her trio of monster cohorts,” Schaefer chuckled as he stirred his drink with a straw before taking a sip, “Last I heard she was in Cretalia three days ago, saying something about “fulfilling her destiny.” Anyway, she had something interesting to say.”

“My, my, since when did my kohai turn into a gossip monger? You’re starting to sound like some stay-at-home housewife,” In an out-of-character moment for the normally calm and reserved Sentinel, Yagami gave a cheeky smile at the remark.

“Oh senpai, that’s so cold of you – pun intended. But what can I say? Idle hands are the devil’s work,” Daniel laughed as he took another sip of his drink, admitting that the lack of SLJ assignments had made him take to chasing gossip. “She said she was investigating stories told by the locals in Cretalia about sightings of horned demons and green lizardmen in the Wizard Woodlands who seemed to move in and out of the shadows.”

“You know how monster stories like these turn out,” Yagami shook his head empathetically, “Half of the time they turn out to be sensationalism and clickbait… and the other half of the time they’re for real.”

“The thing is, Natsumi-chan testified to seeing the demons herself upon investigating those claims,” Daniel swirled the contents of his glass with the straw, “Encountered them in the woods just past the outskirts of Morisato City.” 

“I’m afraid I have to take her story with a grain of salt,” Yagami remarked dryly. “We both know that given how skittish she can be, it might very well be hyperbolic.”

“Well, tell that to the folks living in the Helene District then. Heard her scream from over a mile and a half away and half of the windows in the suburb cracked as a result,” Daniel replied.

“For all we know, she might’ve been overreacting to a squirrel… Fine, I’ll go ask her in person to verify the tale,” Shinsuke sighed as he facepalmed.

“Yeah, but here's another thing. On the same day I heard from Natsumi, I met with a team of delegates from the GDF, an intelligence head and several agents,” Daniel continued.

“The Galactic Defense Force? Heard of them, they’re the peacekeeping arm of the Democratic Systems Administration,” Yagami queried, his tone a fusion of curiosity and surprise. “But what are they doing in Khazan?”

“Here’s the thing, the GDF dispatched their agents to Khazan four weeks prior on an intel mission,” Daniel looked Shinsuke intently in the eye. “I met with the head of their intel team as the SLJ’s representative to broker negotiations between them and the Central Government.”

“GDF agents in Khazan… On an intel mission?” Yagami asked, his eyes widening. “But Khazan isn’t under the GDF’s jurisdiction. It's the only planet within a 10,000 light year radius that's outside of the DSA’s sphere of influence, for that matter.”

“Shocking, right? Caught me like a deer in the headlights too,” Daniel remarked as he sipped his drink. “Suffice to say, something big must be going down in Khazan for them to be conducting missions here. After all, current treaties between Khazan Prime and the DSA forbid the GDF from deploying within 500 AU of Khazan except in the event of a Ruby-Omega incident. It seems tied to Shirai-chan’s story, as they appeared to take great interest in it.”

“Other than the knowledge that the Central Government and Sentinels’ leadership are aware of this matter, I don’t have any other details,” The blonde Sentinel continued. “I was given instructions to monitor the situation, and keep track of the agents to ensure they don’t overstep their authority.” 

“I see… well, it’s better than nothing I suppose,” Yagami said, looking up at the sky as he finished the last of his latte macchiato. “It’s good to finally see action again; let HQ know that I have no objections towards being reassigned to Cretalia.”

“Of course, senpai. The paperwork has already been processed,” Daniel grinned as he too finished his drink, “You won’t believe how much I’ve been itching to return to heroing; besides it's a good chance to get back in touch with some old friends over there. Oh, and as amends for being late, don’t mind if I foot the bill for you?”

Yagami chuckled, “Heh, if it’s gonna be on you I’d have also ordered some food to go.”

“Fine, fine,” Daniel replied cheerfully as he settled the bill for their drinks. “When we’re both in Cretalia, dinner is on me as part of your ‘welcome back’ celebration!”

 

Segment 13: Old Soldiers, Old Scores

The skies above Sevarian City turned orange as the sun began to dip below the distant Champion Mountains in the backdrop as a powerful gust of wind swept over the city skyline, not caused by a storm but left in the wake of two heroic figures sweeping through the skies in flight.

Flight repulsors roared as Uberman’s hulking, heavily-armoured form – decked out in head to toe in a suit of powered armour that combined ultra-tech with medieval fantasy aesthetics – cut through the purple-tinted clouds, the orange rays of the setting sun gleaming against his silver-gray armour. 

Once a German-Jewish inventor who lived during the time of WW2, now a cyborg superhero whose remaining organic components were housed inside a powerful mechanised suit of his own making, the T-slot visor of his suit glowing as various readouts flashed across the HUD as his sensors swept the city streets below. A renowned hero on Earth after the war, he’d come to Khazan to carry on his tireless crusade against the forces of evil in the Sentinels of Liberty and Justice. 

Flying side by side with Uberman was a burly Slavic man with strong, angular facial features and a nearly-trimmed cop stache, wearing an ushanka and double-breasted former Red Army greatcoat and uniform, customised in a vivid shade of crimson with gold braided accents. This was Dmytro Antonovich Romanov, codenamed Supercomrade.

Born to a Russian-Ukrainian couple in the 1910’s, as a young man he served in the Red Army as a lieutenant until a fateful encounter with an alien relic transformed him into a superhuman with enhanced strength, nigh-invulnerability, flight, heightened senses and agelessness. Like Uberman, he also hailed from another parallel reality Earth who came to Khazan to continue their war against evil and injustice in all its forms. 

The two Sentinels split up to form an aerial search grid as they swept from one city block to another. But from the air, nothing seemed amiss in the streets; regular businesses were closing their doors, while the first signs of urban nightlife were starting. With no results to show from their search, the two heroes convened outside the headquarters of Sevarian City Police Department. 

“No trace of that Nazi you call Blitzkrieg, comrade Uberman, could he have fled the city?” Supercomrade asked as he landed next to Uberman.

“Forgive me if I have my doubts, but you don’t know Blitzkrieg like I do,” Uberman replied in a synthesised baritone produced by his suit’s loudspeakers as he powered down his flight repulsors. “It would be most out of character of him to run away after issuing me a challenge. His pride would never allow that.”

For close to a century, the Nazi super soldier known as Blitzkrieg had remained a thorn in Uberman’s side, even after the cyborg ended WW2 by capturing Adolf Hitler alive to be brought before the Hague. Devoid of a higher calling, Blitzkrieg took to making it his life’s goal to ensure that Uberman could never enjoy any lasting sense of accomplishment or peace.

“I may not hail from the same iteration of Earth as you do, comrade, but I’ve been fighting Nazis for as long as you,” Supercomrade replied. 

“As much of a coward as Blitzkrieg may be, he’s never one to make idle threats,” Uberman continued as he held up a note that the commissioner of Sevarian City PD had delivered to him the day before, which stated in no uncertain terms that if Uberman didn’t find him in Sevarian City, he would detonate a hidden bomb to disperse a deadly biological agent across the city, killing thousands. 

“Wait, you said your suit’s sensors can't get a fix on Blitzkrieg’s signal,” Supercomrade said as he leaned in to read the note written by Blitzkrieg, brushing the hairs of his moustache. “But what if…”

“Yes, Dmytro, please continue,” Uberman remarked, sensing that Supercomrade had thought up a possible solution. 

“He mentioned using a bomb to disperse a bioweapon, if your sensors can’t track Blitzkrieg himself, could you by any chance tune your sensors to trace the detonator’s signal?” Supercomrade wondered. “The bomb must be fitted with some kind of receiver for the detonator’s signal, so if your sensors can be tuned to get a fix…”

“Why didn’t I think of that? Excellent work, Dmytro. I was right to appoint you on the Sentinels Council!” The glow in Uberman's visor briefly went from yellow to pink as he gave Supercomrade a pat on the back.

“Let’s see, shall we?” Uberman remarked as he tuned the various sensors built into his suit, scanning across a wide range of frequency and wavelengths. “Found it!” His HUD flashed as his sensors zeroed in on a signal that matches the signature of those used to transmit detonation signals to explosives. With that, the two Sentinels took to the skies once more as Uberman traced the source of the signal. 

The sun had dipped below the horizon as the duo's search led them to an aging district in Sevarian's inner city, with the pings on Uberman’s HUD getting particularly strong as they approached an abandoned warehouse, surrounded by a chain-link fence with signs put up by the Sevarian City Council indicating the building’s condemned status and warning the general public not to enter due to it being structurally unsound. 

The two Sentinels had no problem getting onto the premises, as the security guard readily let them through the gate after a quick questioning confirmed that for the past two days he’d heard noises hinting at suspicious activity going on within the building, yet he never found anything unusual when he went inside to investigate – made all the more confounding that he’d never managed to see anyone enter or leave the premises.

“Thank you for your assistance. You should get as far away from here as you can and contact the police. We’re investigating possible Fallen activity,” Uberman remarked after the security guard unlocked the gate to the chain-link fence for them.

Upon hearing The Fallen being mentioned, the security guard nodded nervously, returning to the shack to make a call to his employer before vacating the premises with haste, leaving Uberman and Supercomrade to themselves as they proceeded into the abandoned warehouse proper.

“Be on your guard at all times,” Uberman warned as they stepped into the warehouse’s cavernous interior. The building had long ago been cut off from the city’s power grid, with the only lighting coming from the rays of the street lamps outside filtering in through the grimy windows, and self-powered illuminated signs indicating the location of emergency exits. However, between the advanced optics in Uberman’s suit and Supercomrade’s preternatural senses the darkness didn't slow the two Sentinels down one bit.

“Hey Uberman, take a look at this,” Supercomrade said, gesturing towards an old container office unit. Like everything else in the warehouse, cobwebs and a film of dust covered everything inside the office, save for one desk that looked recently wiped clean of dust, on which sat a powered-on laptop.

Uberman ripped the door off along with an entire section of the container’s wall in order to gain entry to a space that wasn't built to accommodate a ten-feet tall, heavily-armoured cyborg, hunched over in an almost comedic fashion as he examined what was on the laptop – and gasped as the glow from his helmet visor brightened. “My God, it’s Blitzkrieg! This laptop can broadcast the detonation signal to the bomb that will disperse the bioweapon over Sevarian City!”

“Can you disarm the bomb remotely?” Supercomrade asked.

“Negative, but at least we know where the bomb is. I’m transmitting the location of the bomb to the police so they can send a bomb squad to defuse the explosive and hand the bioweapon to the armed forces for disposal,” Uberman remarked as he transmitted the coordinates of the explosive to the Sevarian City PD, “And if this computer is the means of setting off the bomb, I have another method to make sure it can’t ever transmit a detonation signal.” Without another word, the cyborg picked up the laptop and crushed it in his hands.

“Well, that takes care of problem number one,” Supercomrade smiled as they left the container office. Between apprehending a villain and preventing harm or death to innocents, the SLJ code dictates that the latter always took priority. With the more pressing issue taken care of, the two of them combed the interior of the abandoned warehouse carefully, making their way down the aisles created by stacks of old cargo pallets and packing containers.

“What’s this?” Uberman gasped as a ping suddenly came up on his HUD as the sensors on his suit picked up a sudden movement from behind him. But when the cyborg spun around, no-one could be seen. Motion sensors picked up movements from his left, but as he turned in that direction he once again saw nobody.

“What's the matter, Uberman? You’re looking like you’ve encountered a ghost,” Blitzkrieg's voice broke into a cackle from behind Uberman, but once again the cyborg found nothing but thin air as he spun around in the voice’s direction. Such was the frustrating nature of a foe such as Blitzkrieg – the Nazi super soldier moved far, far faster than the eye – or even high-tech optics and supernatural senses – could track, allowing him to be virtually anywhere he wants, anytime.

“Supercomrade, to your left!” Uberman shouted as his sensors picked up movements to Supercomrade’s left flank.

“What?” Supercomrade wondered, before a stacked container trailer tipped over on him. Supercomrade leapt back, easily avoiding the falling trailer as it landed on the floor with a loud crash. In the span of time it took for the container to hit the ground, Blitzkrieg had run three circles around the Sentinels, his movements registering to the eye as little more than ghostly trails of green light. 

The air displacement picked up by his suit’s sensors convinced Uberman that Blitzkrieg was coming straight at him, but it turned out to be a feint as the super soldier sped right past him to make a warpath towards Supercomrade, who was already getting into a fighting stance, but Blitzkrieg’s attack came with such alacrity that Dmytro couldn’t even get his guard up before a punch hit him in the face at hypersonic speed, the impact producing a shockwave that swept through the entire warehouse as the crimson-clad Sentinel was sent flying across the warehouse and crashing through several container stacks.

“So, Uberman, we meet again. Perhaps for the last time,” the Nazi snickered. It was one of the rare moments that Blitzkrieg slowed down enough for one to get a good view of him, revealing a lanky blue-eyed blonde in a Waffen SS officer’s uniform, although save for the Swastikas he’d since traded his other Nazi insignias for Fallen insignias, such as the Illuminati pyramid icon of The Fallen resting on his collar where the SS runes used to be. 

The Nazi super soldier wore a wicked smirk – or what would’ve been a wicked smirk had it not been for the fact that what was once his lower jaw has been replaced by a cybernetic mouthpiece that made his default expression a permanent rictus grin, resembling the lower mandible of a fleshless Terminator; evidence of the twisted experimentations Nazi doctors had performed on his body to grant him his powers.

“The war ended decades ago, Blitzkrieg,” Uberman admonished. “I will never understand why you continue to fight for a cause that is long dead; but I swear that I will bring you to justice tonight!”

“You’re wrong, do you think this is still about the war?” Blitzkrieg retorted, a ghostly green glow coming to his eyes. “No… for as long as I draw breath I will make sure that you can never know success or bliss. Everything that you build, I will burn to the ground, everything you gain, I will take away… Just ask Lady Liberty, once you see her in the afterlife!”

Uberman clenched his fists angrily, “You are not fit to even mention her!” A high-pitched whine filled the air as the cyborg pointed his fists at Blitzkrieg and fired the concussion blasters, a pair of modified repulsor drives designed for short, overclocked bursts rather than sustained output. The repulsor beams tore a crater in the floor beneath Blitzkrieg, but he had already darted out of the way, leaving only a fading afterimage in his wake.

Uberman tried to follow Blitzkrieg’s movements unleashing one concussive blast after another, but the Nazi’s super speed allowed him to always stay a step ahead of even the cyborg's advanced sensors and targeting computers, avoiding each shot by a margin of milliseconds. Eventually, Uberman lost track of his foe, forcing him to shift into a defensive stance as he anticipated the Fallen super soldier to launch a counterattack anytime.

Uberman held his position as Blitzkrieg darted to and fro, the afterimages left behind by his rapid movements giving off the illusion that the Nazi super soldier was everywhere and nowhere at the same time. The armoured Sentinel decided to shift his tactics, ‘Don’t try to visually track him…’ he thought as he checked his sensors for displacements in the air. ‘Use the displacement of the air to predict his path!’ 

Uberman’s HUD indicated air being displaced in a diagonal path, his computers calculating movement from 7 o’clock of his current position to 2 o’clock of it. “Now!” The cyborg yelled as he discharged a repulsor beam from his left concussion blaster. Uberman’s prediction proved correct; his concussive blast crossed Blitzkrieg’s path to intercept him mid-stride, eliciting a scream of pain and rage from the super soldier as he went flying across the warehouse and slammed hard into a broken-down old truck.

“Don’t get cocky over a fluke shot, Juden!” Blitzkrieg growled as he clawed his way out of the wreckage and charged straight at Uberman.

Uberman fired shot after shot at the incoming Nazi, but Blitzkrieg also brought his own adaptations to the field. Instead of using pure speed to simply hope that the cyborg would miss, the super soldier learned to slow down or speed up when the cyborg would least expect it, as well as performing acrobatic manoeuvres to add an element of unpredictability to his movement patterns. The cyborg threw a punch as Blitzkrieg came within arm’s reach, only to have his fist pass right through an afterimage. 

A hypervelocity kick slammed into Uberman’s back, sending the cyborg reeling. His mechanised armour absorbed the hit, allowing him to quickly regain his footing and block a roundhouse kick, only to be hit from the left by a barrage of punches. Despite his skill in martial arts and sophisticated computer-assisted combat calculations, the cyborg struggled to defend from the rain of blows that seemed to land on him from all sides as Blitzkrieg’s blinding speed made him appear to be everywhere all at once.

Uberman ducked under a flying kick from his nemesis, only to get tackled to the ground as Blitzkrieg dived at him with a speed comparable to a railgun round. Cackling as he stood over the Sentinel, the Nazi super soldier proceeded to ground and pound Uberman with his fists, the cadence and velocity of his punches made every blow land like a point-blank shot with an autocannon.

Blitzkrieg’s assault on the downed Uberman was cut short as Supercomrade flew back into action, his body sheathed in a blazing red aura as he channeled his inner force into his right fist, crackling with golden arcs of lightning as the Super Nazi noticed the crimson Sentinel’s return to the fray a nanosecond too late. A shockwave accompanied by a ring of energy rippling through the warehouse as Supercomrade’s fist made contact with Blitzkrieg’s cybernetic jaw, before the super soldier was sent flying like a cannonball.

“Hey comrade, you alright?” Supercomrade asked, taking Uberman by the hand and helping him back onto his feet before adjusting his ushanka.

“Still functioning,” Uberman nodded as he stood tall. Sections of his suit’s armour plating showed signs of buckling, but despite the damage to the armour, the suit’s inner systems had not been compromised. “My suit has taken some punishment, but the inner systems have not been compromised and my organic components are fine.”

“Think again!” Blitzkrieg screamed as he launched himself back into the fray at near-relativistic speed. A flying kick struck Uberman in the chest and sent him smashing through several container stacks, and the Super Nazi turned his fury back towards Supercomrade, who took dozens of blows in the space of a couple seconds.

The crimson Sentinel’s enhanced durability allowed him to withstand the first few seconds of the barrage, but even he began to buckle under the sustained onslaught, appearing to be in several places at once due to his blistering speed and attacking from every possible angle. For every attack Dmytro managed to block or dodge, ten more would come from a blind spot. “You should’ve stayed out of this, Slav! Prepare to be crushed, untermensch!”

“We’ll see about that!” Supercomrade grunted as he tilted his head to dodge a punch, simultaneously throwing one of his own to perform a cross-counter… only to punch right through an afterimage. Dmytro would receive a kick to the back that sent him flying, but before he was even halfway across the warehouse Blitzkrieg had already darted to his front to send him flying upwards with an uppercut. This was followed-up with Blitzkrieg leaping towards the ceiling rafters to deal a double axe handle to Supercomrade, sending him crashing to the ground.

As Supercomrade lay on his back, Blitzkrieg came down like a meteor as he attempted a knee drop on the burly Russo-Ukrainian, who crossed his arms over his chest to block the diving assault. Now astride his Sentinel adversary, Blitzkrieg launched another autocannon-esque ground and pound assault, landing numerous high-velocity punches to Supercomrade’s face that sent tremors through the ground and turned the floor beneath them into a crater.

“Tell Stalin when you see him in hell, that Blitzkrieg sent you!” The Super Nazi laughed diabolically, a wicked green light flashing in his eyes as he raised his fist to land a finishing strike to Dmytro, but froze when he heard the familiar sound of concussion blasters charging up. Blitzkrieg attempted to dodge, but found himself immobilised as Supercomrade grabbed hold of one of his legs.

“No! Let go of me, you subhuman fool!” The super speedster fought to free himself, but the crimson Sentinel’s grip was like an adamantine vice. Cursing, Blitzkrieg used his other leg to kick and stomp away at Supercomrade, who kept a look of stoic determination on his bloodied face as his grip remained unyielding.

Uberman fired both concussion blasters at full power, striking Blitzkrieg square in the chest. The Super Nazi was sent flying across the warehouse, smashing right through the wall. “Bullseye,” Uberman said calmly as he helped Supercomrade back onto his feet.

Exiting the warehouse through the hole made by Blitzkrieg, the two Sentinels found that not only had the Fallen super speedster been smashed through the warehouse wall, he’d flown right across the parking lot, tore through the perimeter fence and ploughed a trench through the ground before coming to a stop on the other side of the street.

“Heh, he’s a pretty good fighter, I’ll give him that,” Supercomrade said as he dusted off his ushanka before putting it back on, caring more about his headdress than the state of his face – bloodied and battered, with his right eye swollen shut due to a nasty bruise. “But he’ll need to do better to defeat both Uberman and Supercomrade!”

“It's over, Blitzkrieg!” Uberman said as he and Supercomrade closed in on Blitzkrieg, who was struggling to rise to his feet, the green glow in his eyes now weak and flickering while sparks flew from the joints of his cybernetic limbs as blood dripped from his mouth. “You’re in no condition to fight at this point, surrender!”

“Well-played, Uberman,” Blitzkrieg chuckled, inexplicably calm despite his damaged state. “But I’m never one to go into battle without contingencies,” Snickering ominously, the super soldier removed a remote control device from the pockets of his uniform and dialled a knob before pressing the red button.

Uberman’s T-slot visor flashed red as his sensors picked up on a pair of missile lock-ons. “Dmytro, behind us!” Uberman and Supercomrade spun around to see a pair of missiles flying at them. A quick shot from the cyborg’s concussion blaster destroyed a missile, while Supercomrade channeled his inner force to swat the other missile away with his right hand, sending it into the upper atmosphere to have it explode harmlessly.

“Detonator 4.0 online, executing combat directive – terminate Sentinels of Liberty and Justice,” A grating, mechanical voice growled from within the warehouse as a robot crashed through the warehouse walls. The Detonator was a behemoth of a robot, tall as a two-storey house with a humanoid upper torso bristling with weapons and a centauroid lower body consisting of tank-like caterpillar treads and covered with reactive armour plates.

“The Detonator!? Wasn't it destroyed when it fought in the FPL?” Supercomrade exclaimed in disbelief as the robot glared at the Sentinels, its head bearing a cartoonish face consisting of a pair of large expressive eyes and mechanical eyebrows bearing an angry look, and a radiator grille-like ‘mouth’, rolling out of the way as The Detonator spewed burning napalm from its flamethrower left arm.

“It must be a knockoff from the black market; the original Detonator which fought in the FPL didn’t have missile launchers,” Uberman replied, dodging a burst of gunfire from the robot’s right arm which was equipped with a GSh-6-30 autocannon, while returning fire with his own concussion blasters.

“I hope you enjoy my little parting gift, you’ve earned it!” Blitzkrieg laughed before speeding away from the scene amidst the chaos, the Nazi disappeared from sight before his laughter was even heard.

“We need to take this thing down, fast – with the way it’s firing its weapons, who knows how much damage it can do to this neighbourhood!?” Uberman shouted as he and Supercomrade took to the air to avoid the Detonator’s near-continuous stream of napalm and gunfire, followed by unleashing another volley of missiles from its shoulder-mounted launchers as they landed on the roof of the abandoned warehouse.

The two Sentinels jumped off the roof a split second before the missiles exploded; destroying the roof and half of the warehouse. “Dmytro, keep the Detonator busy while I attack it from a blind spot,” Uberman instructed as his suit’s flight repulsor powered up, the armoured Sentinel going airborne as the Detonator fired into the air with its autocannon.

Supercomrade charged at the Detonator from the front, crossing his arms over his face as the robot discharged its flamethrower, advancing steadily despite being doused in burning napalm. The Russo-Ukrainian grinned as he grabbed hold of the Detonator’s right arm. “Can’t have you firing that in the middle of a city, ni,” he remarked, grappling the Detonator whilst still on fire.

The loudspeaker inside the Detonator’s grille-like ‘mouth’ made a growling noise as it turned its treads, trying to run Supercomrade over, but the crimson Sentinel’s super strength proved more than enough to hold it at bay. “You might give low-ranked Undercards contenders a hard time, but you're dealing with a premier Sentinel right here!” Supercomrade declared as he shoved back, forcing the massive robot backwards as its treads tore up the tarmac beneath it.

Supercomrade took a sharp breath, hissing through gritted teeth as he hoisted the Detonator onto his shoulders, before yelling as he tossed the robot into the air. At the same time, Uberman accelerated with his flight repulsors, ramming into the airborne Detonator with both fists in front of him while simultaneously firing a pair of max strength blasts from his concussive blasters.

Uberman landed on the tarmac in a three-point stance as the Detonator crashed back onto the ground, sundered in two by the cyborg’s attack. “Critical damage sustained… system shutdown imminent…” The Detonator’s loudspeaker buzzed before it went still.

“Well, that was quite the evening,” Supercomrade remarked, brushing the soot off his uniform as he straightened his ushanka while police sirens blared in the distance. “It’s unfortunate that Blitzkrieg got away.”

“The police will take over from here on,” Uberman replied, nodding. The armoured Sentinel paused as his suit’s communicator received an incoming call from the Sentinels’ HQ. “Yes HQ, Uberman here,” The cyborg picked up the call.

“Time to return to headquarters, Dmytro; you’re in need of medical attention, and we have received some reports of unsettling activities taking place near the major cities… I think The Fallen may be back to their old tricks,” The two Sentinels took to the skies as they headed in the direction of Khazan City.

Uberman stole one last look at Sevarian City, its skyline growing further and further away as his mind went back to his memories of Lady Liberty. ‘Forgive me, Lady Liberty, it would seem that justice for your death will still need to wait a bit longer,’ The cyborg thought as he increased the power output of his flight repulsors, increasing his speed to catch up to Supercomrade as they left Sevarian City behind.

 

Segment 14: The Magisters of Chaos

Deep inside the Endless Caves, Drekis’ main fortress complex was crawling with activity even by its normally hectic standards. In a sprawling open plaza over a mile wide overlooked by Drekis’ citadel, there was a massive assembly of minions of all types – from basic Deminite Soldiers to elite Phantom Sorcerers. 

The demonic thralls were joined by numerous members of the Discordant Scions – agents of the Drekis Empire who hailed from hundreds of different worlds and an equally diverse number of sentient species, from humanoid to bizarrely alien, consisting of both free-willed mercenaries and ensorcered mind-slaves alike. 

The minions of Drekis grunted, panted, and growled as they kept their gaze fixed on the central spire of the citadel, while Discordant Scions chatted amongst themselves and distributed weapons ranging from as simple as halberds and crossbows, to as advanced as gauss rifles and molecular disruptors.

From deep within the citadel, a sound resembling a gong being struck rang across the open plaza, and all at once the motley assembly of Drekis minions and Scions fell silent as a pair of portal doors swung open, and six figures stepped out of the shadows onto the lookout platform overlooking the assembly. 

“They’re here…” A Scion – a male human mercenary in modern tactical gear – whispered in a hushed tone, his voice equal parts fear and awe. “His Eminence’s generals, the Magisters…”

“All of them, that's a first,” Another Scion added – this one a female dark elf dressed like a kunoichi. 

Jon Avalon was the first of the Magisters to speak as he stepped forward to the railings of the lookout platform to address the assembly, the ghostly green highlights of his armour radiating an ominous glow as his gauntlet-clad hands rested firmly on the railings. “The time has come, our Archon has given the word.”

The next Magister to speak was Relinqiest, a dark wizard dressed in elaborate red robes topped off with an exquisite cloak, with thinning jet black hair that was buzzed short, glowing red eyes and a mage staff with a golden shaft and tipped with a crystal skull and silver bat wing ornaments. His pale skin and long, pointed ears gave him the impression of a deceased elf who recently rose from the grave. “Yes, the time has come for Drekis’ Magisters to lead his armies to victory on this world,” he flashed a sinister grin, revealing a mouth with vampire-like canines.

The next to speak was Veronica Daemon, the sole female amongst the Magisters, a hauntingly beautiful woman with silky amethyst locks that reached down to her knees and striking ruby-red eyes, dressed in an elegant gown that accentuated her body’s killer curves and left plenty of her flawless alabaster-like skin exposed.

Veronica sashayed forward, her steps radiating an ethereal grace and her hips gently swaying with a seductive aura as she took her place next to Jon Avalon. “For too long, we have been aimlessly wandering the cosmos, while His Eminence’s armies languish down here in the dark without purpose. But no longer!” Her voice possessed a musical, siren-like charm that matches her appearance; but her heart was just as cold and ruthless as her fellow Magisters. 

Veronica raised her right hand, the bejewelled bangles on her wrist clinking softly, “For the time has come to show Khazan just what we’re capable of!” With that, the assembled Scions and minions roared their approval, waving their hands and other appendages in the air. The female general silenced the crowd by waving her hand, before turning to the next Magister, a tall and pale man with long raven hair and an imposing build. “So, pray tell, Deimos… Do we have an attack plan, hmm?” Veronica asked as she rested a manicured index finger on her chin.

Deimos nodded before stepping forward; he was a tall and physically-imposing man, decked out in a set of battle armour that was a shade of red so dark, it almost looked black, with bronze accents and glowing orange highlights that resembled rivulets of lava. “Long before our arrival on Khazan, our Discordant Scions have spied on every major institution on this planet – heroic and villainous alike,” Deimos spoke in a monotonous voice devoid of emotion, his facial expression equally deadpan, while his hair and cape billowed mysteriously as though stirred by a breeze only he could feel.

“Our plan is to ignore The Fallen for the time being. If they see that our attacks only target the Sentinels and Maniacal Heroes, they will likely see us as a potential ally, rather than competition,” The emotionless Magister stepped forward to take his place at the railing with Relinqiest to his left and Veronica Daemon to his right.

“This way, we will be able to crush Khazan’s hero institutions without the fear of interference,” Jon Avalon added, glancing briefly towards Veronica who gave him a smile and an approving nod. “Once they are removed from the board, we will redirect our efforts towards The Fallen.”

“Which will give us the opportunity to crush the heroes of this world without interference from the others,” Jon Avalon nodded. “Once they are defeated, we concentrate all of our efforts on the Fallen. What do you think, Aigonis?”

“Yesss… We’ve used the same ploy against The Maraudersss,” The talons on Aigonis Zekruel’s feet clacked faintly as he stepped forward. The most physically-imposing member of the group, Aigonis was also easily the least inhuman in his appearance, a lizardman-like alien who stood nearly nine feet tall, his leathery hide, branded with scarlet warrior tattoos, was covered with pearl white scales that carried an iridescent sheen, and the gaping mouth that took up much of his elongated snout was filled with needle-sharp teeth. But the most striking features were the white-feathered angel-esque wings that sprouted from his back and his perpetually-closed eyes.

“I have ssssent troops to scout the Sssouthern regions of the Mainland to assess the defences of Araelissss and Zel’Mier. One of my Scionsss even claimed to have fought a powerful wizard claiming to be the ruler of Araelis,” Aigonis remarked as his clawed fingers tapped on the shaft of his halberd-like polearm, “I will oversssee the assault on Araelisss, but I advise that we leave Zel’Mier alone unless The Maraudersss see through our ruse or otherwise prove to be a problem.”

“Good call, Zekruel,” Relinqiest replied. “You can leave Zel’Mier to me; I will monitor The Marauders’ activities to see how things develop on their side. Deimos, I take it your scouts are up to the task in Xaelon?”

“Of course,” Deimos replied, his voice impassive as ever, “My contingent have positioned vanguards around the cities. Once my main forces march to the surface they will make the first strikes at my command.”

“Good, then I take it that we all understand our roles?” Relinquiest said.

Veronica looked over her shoulder as the last of the Magisters – a white haired, fray-skinned man known as Shadow Wing, stepped forward. Shadow Wing stood taller than Deimos but below Aigonis in height, garbed in voluminous purple and gold robes with a cutout in the back to allow his wings – leathery like a dragon’s and tipped with wickedly-sharp spines – to stick out from his clothes. “Shadow Wing, may you do the honours?” Veronica Daemon asked. 

“Certainly,” Shadow Wing nodded as four Phantom Sorcerers drifted through the double doors behind them and took position on the lookout, magically projecting a lifelike map of the prime Khazanian continent on the cave chamber’s ceiling, “Our campaign will start with the state-kingdoms in the western side of the mainland, and expand eastwards towards Khazan Prime.”

“The key to our victory is to secure territory in the western regions so create new hive-fortresses on the surface to reduce our dependence on the main fortress complex for reinforcements,” Jon Avalon chorused. 

“My forces will travel through the Central Valley with haste and rally on the southern borders of Cretalia,” Shadow Wing commented. “Deimos’ contingent will conduct attacks on Xaelon’s cities before making rendezvous with my forces to launch a pincer attack on Cretalia.”

“The hives have yet to meet the production quota for my contingent, so for now my forces will contribute to the defense of the citadel,” Relinqiest added, tapping the floor with the butt of his mage staff, “If The Marauders step out of line, I will take care of them along with Zel’Mier.”

“My forces shall stay here on defense for the moment,” Relinquiest chorused. “If Zel’Mier becomes a problem, it will become my responsibility. Veronica, your forces will move west of here and conquer the aquatic lands of Thenesiea and will then move east to join with the main force. Jon, you will join Deimos in attacking Xaelon, but will then head to the Central valley to prepare yourselves for an attack on Axia afterwards.”

“Then I will lead my legion to the far west to take the nation of Thenesiea,” Veronica mused, a sly smile playing on her lips. “Once Thenesiea is subjugated, I will head eastward.”

“My legion will cross the Central Valley to muster outside the borders of Axia to prepare for an attack in the later stages of the campaign,” Jon Avalon remarked, shooting a glance towards Deimons, “In the meantime, as I make my way for the Central Valley my division will fight alongside yours in taking Xaelon.”

“I think my contingent will do fine on their own, but it never hurts to accomplish my objectives quicker,” Deimos replied dryly, and Jon inwardly swore that there was a hint of sarcasm in his fellow Magister’s voice even if his expression didn’t show it.

“Araelissss is mine for the taking,” Aignois said, twirling his polearm, while swishing his tail side to side. “If nothing elssse, I want to face that ruler who so confidently took on an entire ssscout company.”

“My first strike on Xaelon will commence in the pre-dawn hours before the sun is up,” Deimos remarked, “With most of its populace asleep, I will have the element of surprise on my side.”

“Discordant Scionsss and Phantom Sssorcerers will keep us up-to-date on our fellow Magisterssss’ progress,” Aignois chimed in. “Once I receive newssss of New Xaelis’ sssubjugation, my attacks on Araelissss will begin in thirty-six hoursss’ time.” 

“Aye, the fall of new Xaelis will also serve as the cue for my division to storm Cretalia,” Shadow Wing seconded.

“Hail Drekis! Hail Drekis! Hail Drekis!” A chorus of exhortations erupted from the ranks of Discordant Scions as they pumped their fists, tentacles, claws and other appendages into the air, their cries echoing through the cavernous chamber, chorused by the roars and shrieks of the Drekis minions. But as soon as Relinqiest held up his staff and waved his free hand, the entire assembly fell silent once more.

“That settles it then,” Relinqiest concluded, “Let us not tarry at our individual preparations,” And with that, the generals got into a single file as they left the lookout, vanishing back into the depths of the main citadel.

 

Segment 15: Discussing the Deal

The Unsubtle rode in the rear of a captured Zel’Mier Armed Forces humvee as it cruised down the streets of Zel’Myas, capital city of Zel’Mier and seat of power for the Marauder occupation. A significant part of the city still bore the scars of the insurgency – streets that remain strewn with rubble, military bulwarks and wrecked vehicles and lined with bombed-out and fire-gutted buildings; and those that were spared from the worst of the brutal street-fighting were either stripped of anything of value by Marauder splatter punks or converted into their barracks or smuggling dens.

Toc Darkone’s plan to bankroll and supply a revolution who would install The Marauders as the new regime in Zel’Mier once Ignacio Delagon was deposed was initially met with opposition from some of the high-ranking Marauders, who feared that such a power move would draw too much attention from the SLJ, Maniacal Heroes and other freelance heroes. However, many more stood behind Toc, believing that this was the key to making the rest of Khazan recognise The Marauders as a world power capable of standing up to the likes of the SLJ and The Fallen.

Not that The Unsubtle gave any of this much thought; she was a mercenary first and foremost — and her loyalty to the Marauders only lasted for as long as they paid her salary. Currently, Toc Darkone was paying her to defend Zel’Mier, and that is what did.

As The Unsubtle entered the upscale entertainment district known as Allegro Plaza, it felt like she’d been driven into a different world. Untouched by the insurgency and Marauder occupation, the moneyed elite from Zel’Mier and beyond lived like they always had, flaunting their luxury cars and designer clothes and plying the sector’s many five-star hotels and casinos.

Eventually, her ride pulled to a stop at the front porch of The Monarch, once the top-rated luxury holiday resort and casino in all of Zel’Mier, now repurposed by a high-ranking Marauder known as Izohn Falaris into his personal palace and base of operations from which he oversaw Marauder operations in the capital in Toc Darkone’s absence.

The security detail at the main entrance consisting of Marauder splatter punks and Zel’Mier Armed Forces defectors did nothing to stop The Unsubtle as she made her way past them into the reception foyer, paying no heed to the various Marauder bands there, until a booming male voice caught her attention, “Oh look, looks like Ms. Carlisle got a little banged up after her adventure in Karia huh? Hehe.”

“Archons damn it, what do you want, Sunglasses?” The Unsubtle grumbled as she turned to face the owner of the voice – a tall and powerfully-built mercenary with a bald head, dressed in a plate carrier vest and combat webbing over a drab olive T-shirt, CYB combat trousers and military boots, carrying a M60 machine gun over his shoulder. She never bothered to learn this Marauder’s name, only addressing him by the moniker “Sunglasses” due to the fact that he was almost never seen without a pair of sports sunglasses.

Sunglasses wasn't wrong though – even from a distance The Unsubtle looked worse for wear; her camouflage BDU shirt was gone, the female Marauder had torn it to shreds to fashion makeshift dressings for the various cuts, abrasions and burns she’d sustained from the clash with the Sentinels in Karia and her subsequent misadventure in the Endless Caves, now dressed only in her combat vest and harness over a sleeveless black compression top and khaki shorts.  

“Just checking on a fellow Marauder,” Sunglasses replied nonchalantly, although The Unsubtle could detect the sarcasm in his voice; he wasn’t showing concern, but rather gloating.

“Right…” The Unsubtle rolled her eyes, staring at her own reflection captured on the mirrored surface of Sunglasses’ eyewear. “Anyways, is Toc Darkone around here? I have an urgent report for him.”

“Looking for the big boss man? You just missed him; he was holding a meeting with Mr. Falaris a while ago. The loyalists remain firmly entrenched in another city near the Falcon River region and Toc has gone to personally direct The Marauders to crush the loyalist forces there once and for all,” Sunglasses shrugged, “But there’s always his majordomo Izohn. Same place as always, up there at the King Suite penthouse.”

“You should’ve taken my advice, told you that the villages were off-limits,” The Marauder machine-gunner chuckled as The Unsubtle made her way to the elevator lobby, “The Sentinels let us occupy the cities because it’s against their directive to meddle in geopolitics. But the moment you go around menacing local farmers? That’s when things go from politics to petty crime. Should’ve stuck with easier pickings like the lost elven civilisation in the Darkshadow Forest.”

As Sunglasses left The Unsubtle to her own devices, she would flip the bird at his turned back, before taking an elevator up to the top floor of The Monarch, which houses the top-end accommodation for high-rollers. The Unsubtle made her way down the lavishly-decorated hallway, lined with opulent furniture and expensive art pieces until she arrived at the majestic teak double doors of the King Suite, guarded by two sturdily-built men in immaculately-tailored business suits and designer sunglasses. Even from behind their shades, the brunette could feel two pairs of piercing gazes fall upon her. 

“State your business, mercenary. Mr. Falaris doesn’t meet hirelings like you in his office without an appointment,” one of the bodyguards said in a calm but stern voice that indicated a no-nonsense personality. 

“Tell your boss that it’s The Unsubtle, and I have an urgent report for him,” The Unsubtle replied.

Izohn’s bodyguards whispered among themselves for a while, before pressing a button on an intercom next to the door frame. “Boss, The Unsubtle wants to speak to you. Says she has an important report.”

“Let her in, I’ve been expecting her,” a baritone, gentlemanly voice replied a few seconds later. 

The bodyguards nodded, and one of the men retrieved a digital key card from his jacket to scan against a card reader above the intercom panel. A green light flashed on the device, before the electronic lock disengaged with a faint click, granting The Unsubtle access to the King Suite. 

Once inside, the brunette made her way to the King Suite’s sky lounge, an elliptical-shaped chamber with a Classical-themed decoration, sporting a mini-bar and Jacuzzi pool where guests could enjoy a breathtaking panoramic view of city and its surrounding countryside while enjoying fine dining and exquisite wines. Izohn Falaris stood at the far end of the sky lounge, the entire hemisphere taken up by windows, his back turned to The Unsubtle, his hands placed behind back.

“Mr. Falaris, I want to talk to you about something,” The Unsubtle began, “It is imperative that you get the word out to Toc Darkone…”

“About the demonic creatures you encountered in the Endless Caves, and your meeting with the entity known as Drekis, who offered to make a deal with The Marauders,” Izohn completed The Unsubtle intended sentence as he turned around, dressed in a voluminous black robe with scarlet accents and a mantle consisting of a black cape with gold pauldrons and a matching chestplate; his face hidden behind a white mask sculpted in the likeness of a weeping woman’s face and a black cowl topped off with an elaborate tall hat. The Marauders’ second in-command was an enigma, none of his subordinates had ever seen his face, or even an inch of his skin as even his hands were covered in white gloves at all times.

“I… I was about to get to that part, yes. How did you find out?” The Unsubtle wondered, surprised at how Izohn knew what was on her mind. Rumours were abound amongst the splatter punks that the Marauder second-in-command possessed mental powers, but it was the first time the gunslinger witnessed it in person, “It’s like you read my mind or something.” 

A muffled, icy laugh escaped from the breath ports on Falaris’ mask as he eyed The Unsubtle, “Who needs to read minds, when we have you to spread word around like wildfire?”

The Unsubtle scratched the back of her head, laughing nervously, “Hehe, guess you can thank the little bar-hopping episode I had before coming here huh? Well, at least that saves you the exposition!”

“Back on topic,” Izohn waved a hand dismissively before placing his hands behind his back. “Drekis has made an interesting proposal to say the least. But I am of the opinion that consolidating power within Zel’Mier remains The Marauders’ top priority. Mr. Darkone is holding talks with other Marauder leaders in hopes of repeating what we accomplished here in Zel’Mier in other regions of Khazan. In other words, we shouldn’t bother with Drekis.”

“But are you or Toc okay with just leaving them alone?” The Unsubtle wondered.

“No, of course not,” Izohn retorted, “But as long as they haven’t made any moves against us, then we shouldn’t attack them without provocation. Their motives remain a mystery to me, but if they have been giving trouble to both the Sentinels and Maniacals alike, then this is a golden opportunity for us to seize even more power while the heroes are stretched thin.”

“I see, but if they can’t be trusted, how will we keep an eye on them?” The Unsubtle folded her arms in front of her chest.

“I will take care of that,” Falaris replied, holding up his gloved hands. “I will assign a network of informants and spies to observe their movements on the surface – not that any of this intel will be shared with the SLJ or any hero institution for that matter. If Drekis is out to crush the SLJ, let him do so.”

“Understood,” The gunslinger nodded, “So… does Mr. Darkone know about this?”

 “I already teleconferenced with him about this,” Izohn replied curtly.

“I see. Well then, I shall be on my merry way, thanks!” The Unsubtle turned to leave but was stopped by the sound of Falaris’ voice.

“Another moment, if you please,” Izohn held up his hand as he gestured for The Unsubtle to spare him another moment.

“Huh?” The Unsubtle turned around to shoot a glance at Izohn.

“A new shipment of supplies is on their way by train; they should be arriving at the former Zel’Mier Military depot at the southern end of the city in about three hours’ time,” the masked Marauder remarked, glancing at his smartphone where only seconds before he’d received a message from one of his subordinates regarding the impending arrival of an arms shipment. “There, I believe you will find some new weapons to replace the ones you lost earlier.”

“Heh, I could never say no to more weapons!” The Unsubtle grinned as she left Izohn’s office. 

 

Segment 16: The Fall of Sevarian City, Part 1

 At slightly past 3 AM, even the nightlife of Sevarian City had wound down in this liminal zone between where the night was at its darkest and before the break of dawn. Silence reigned in the streets, only broken by the sporadic barking of stray dogs or hissing and yowling of feral cats fighting over territory. 

Even they soon fell silent however, as their instincts warned them of impending danger, as the dogs whimpered and then scampered off with their tails between their legs, while the cats silently scurried into storm drains or climbed into dumpsters for refuge. 

Seconds later, the night skies lit up as the silence was broken. It started with a single blue-white flash from the distant horizon, followed by a glowing blue-white streak racing through the sky. Viewed from the distance, it could easily be mistaken for a shooting star, until it began descending towards Sevarian City’s downtown core, striking a high-rise commercial tower, the resulting explosion completely levelling the building, with the noise being heard all the way at the outlying suburbs.

By now, most of the residents of Sevarian City had been jolted awake by the explosion, as out in the suburbs, citizens wandered out onto their front porch to observe a column of smoke rising into the night sky. As they struggled to process what was going on, more flashes were spotted over the distant horizon, followed by more blue-white bolts of energy arcing through the sky towards downtown Sevarian City, lighting up the night sky with more explosions.

That was when the calls came in, as the residents started receiving phone calls from friends or family living in the inner city, fearfully informing them of buildings being struck by unknown energy weapons with terrifying destructive power, as over the line the sounds of explosions going off and emergency sirens blaring could be heard.

Pandemonium took hold as the emergency alert systems began sounding, and residents tuning in to television and radio channels or checking their social media were addressed by the mayor of Sevarian City who informed them that the city had come under attack by an unknown enemy possessing powerful weapons, urging the public to stay calm as law enforcement, the military and Sentinels have been contacted and are working to control the situation.

The chaos escalated as screams were heard further down the street. “That sounded like it came from the Chois!” A resident, a stout man in his 30's, exclaimed as he heard his neighbours screams from five houses down. Some of the residents at this point were already packing whatever they could carry into their cars, looking to get as far away as possible from Sevarian City.

With a faint whoosh, a fireball flew down the lane from where the screams were heard, striking a tree on another resident’s front yard and setting it ablaze, sending a fresh wave of panic through the community as more fireballs streaked through the air, indiscriminately exploding against the walls of nearby houses, trees, or whatever target they could find. “Wh-what are these things!?” A woman in her late-20’s screamed as she pointed in the direction of the Choi house.

The remaining residents who had yet to bolt squinted to get a better look at the figure that stepped into the beam of a street lamp. A burly, hunched-over humanoid figure – gray skin, black bony plates, horns, demonic facial features. It was soon joined by more identical creatures. The residents screamed, and the Deminite Soldiers roared and charged.

 

 

Segment 16.1: The Fall of Sevarian City, Part 2

“Command to Icarus-2 and Orion-3, what’s the situation on the ground?” The comms crackled to life as two Hymenoptera-series gunships from the Khazanian military flew above the skyline of downtown Sevarian City, now a scene of carnage and chaos as buildings burned and panicked civilians fled through the streets, while law enforcement units desperately opened fire at incoming Deminites.

“Icarus-2 here; I have visual of the enemy attacking the city. They appear to be… demons of some sort,” The pilot of Icarus-2 radioed back over the comms as he began to lower his craft; the Hymenoptera is a high-tech and versatile tiltjet in service with the Khazan Armed Forces, capable of operating in a wide range of weather and terrain conditions and made to be easily fitted for a variety of roles ranging from airborne troop transport to support fire gunship.

“Orion-3 to Command, I’m also having visual of demons in the streets… proceeding with objective,” Orion-3 radioed in.

“This is Icarus-2, proceeding with objective,” Icarus-2’s pilot radioed as his Hymenoptera hovered over the city hall’s rooftop, allowing a squad of Khazan Rangers to rappel down – these were the Khazan Armed Forces’ special operations force, skilled in conducting a wide range of tactical operations ranging from conducting reconnaissance and sabotage deep inside enemy territory, counter-insurgency and counter-terrorism, and high-profile hostage rescues.

The Khazan Rangers’ boots hit the floor silently as they fan out, their mission objectives flashing across the AR displays on their helmet visors as they released the safety on their weapons and raised the hoods of their camo-cloaks.

From the moment the first explosion in Sevarian City was reported, military units stationed at Fort Condor – a small garrison at the edge of the Sevarian Metropolitan Area – found their operations command centre inundated with emergency transmissions from local law enforcement and Sentinels about a massive attack taking place on the city. An armed response contingent was hastily assembled, consisting of elements of the infantry, mechanised infantry, air cavalry and Khazan Rangers as they were briefed on what little they knew about the situation and deployed towards the downtown district.

“Is there no end to these things!?” Khazan Armed Forces soldiers joined SWAT operatives behind the barricades as they opened fire at incoming Deminites, supported by tripod-mounted heavy machine guns and turret-mounted autolasers courtesy of Armadillo-series APCs. Bullets and lasers mowed down the charging Deminite Soldiers by the dozen, but more continued to push forward without any regard for their comrades or concern towards their own mortality.

“Hold your ground! Keep firing!” The squad leader yelled as soldiers and SWAT teams continued to dump their magazines’ contents into the horde of demonic beasts, but for every Deminite Soldier that was gunned down, three more scrambled over its remains. It was then that a new threat presented itself, previously unnoticed by the cops and soldiers as they kept their weapon sights trained on the larger Deminites.

These diminutive creatures resembled demonic velociraptors that possessed the same grayish skin and partial exoskeleton as the Deminite Soldiers, but with disproportionately long gibbon-like arms ending in serrated, sickle-like blades. By the time they were aware of this new enemy type, it was already too late as the first wave of them leapt over the barricade and tore through the defenders’ ranks. Despite being no larger than a human toddler, they possessed a frightening level of explosive strength that allowed them to overpower grown men, while their serrated blades and razor teeth pierced through body armour with terrifying ease.

As soon as the foremost line of defenders were cut down, the Deminite Soldiers increased their momentum, sending blasts of demonic fire into the soldiers’ and cops’ ranks before tearing apart the barricade as an ineluctable tide of monsters washed over the desperate defenders. “This is Achilles-7 to Command! The enemy is overrunning our position, we can’t hold the line much longer!”

One after another, similar reports began pouring in from the soldiers, police and Khazan Rangers – squads overrun, vehicles blown up, aircraft shot out of the sky – before all transmissions ceased altogether as the command post was struck by the same energy bolt used in the bombardment of downtown Sevarian City, instantly annihilating it together with all personnel within. 

 Standing on a nearby hill just under the light of the moon, Deimos and Jon “Darkenfire” Avalon stood watching as the last embers of armed resistance were extinguished under the crushing weight of their armies. A critically-damaged Hymenoptera trailed smoke and flames as it spun out of control before crashing into a bombed-out shopping mall in a fiery explosion. While in the background, what’s left of Sevarian City continued to burn in the distance.

“This is it, the crossing of the Rubicon,” Jon Avalon remarked as he watched towers of smoke rise into the air from the burning of Sevarian City, the conflagration illuminating the pre-dawn sky with a hellish orange glow.

“What, the die has been cast?” Deimos quipped with a cold smile, “His Eminence doesn’t strike me as one to play dice. This is not a gambit, this is a prophecy.”

Avalon cracked a smile at his fellow general’s quip. “Aye, this is but a small preview for the people of Khazan of what awaits them.”

“Now, don’t get cocky just yet,” Deimos reminded, turning away to lead his army on to the next phase of their operation, “The only reason everything here went as smoothly as they did was because we’d caught the Khazanians with their pants down. Now they’ll be ready for us; subsequent battles can only get much harder from here on.”

“And I for one, relish the challenge!” Avalon remarked as he left the hilltop to lead his troops. “Afterall, Khazan’s built quite the reputation for itself as an exceptionally tough world to crack. I would be sorely disappointed if all that reputation turned out to be nothing but hype.”

 

Segment 17: Khazan City, Aftermath of the Carnage

It was daybreak when Raea Shalhalla reported to the headquarters of the Sentinels of Liberty and Justice, nestled in the heart of Khazan City’s prestigious Uptown Sector, the thoughts of Tim still weighing on her mind as she headed to the locker room to change out of her street clothes and into her SLJ duty dress uniform. ‘I think I should put forth a recommendation to the SLJ leadership council to consider his Sentinels application,’ She thought as she scanned her Sentinels ID to unlock her storage locker.

The redhead was yanked out of her train of thought as she heard her fellow Sentinels talking incessantly about Sevarian City, or specifically how the city was besieged by an army of demons. Putting her plans to get changed on hold, Raea left the locker room and made her way through the headquarters to arrive at the foyer outside the Sentinels’ Council Hall, where she found Captain Khazan and Amy Coleman in the middle of a tense conversation with other Sentinels, presently clad in SLJ duty dress uniforms – a white dress uniform style jacket with lavender accents and gold epaulettes, braided lanyards and buttons over a lavender shirt and black necktie and gray slacks or pencil skirt.

“What's going on?” Raea asked as she weaved her way through the crowd to get to Amy Coleman and Trent Young, aka. Captain Khazan. “I’ve been hearing about demons and Sevarian City's destruction the moment I arrived.”

“It’s pretty much the talk of the town at this moment,” Captain Khazan replied, his tone and expression grim, “The information we have on it is scarce at the moment, and is constantly changing as aftermath crews survey what’s left of Sevarian City. That's why I've been called by the rest of the SLJ leadership council to attend this emergency summit.”

“Amy, does this have anything to do with The Marauders?” Raea turned to Amy Coleman. The other big news that had been circulating throughout Khazan Prime was the Marauders’ occupation of Zel’Mier, leaving the redhead to wonder if there was any connection between the two.

Amy shook her head and gestured in universal sign language, “I doubt The Marauders had anything to do with this. The behaviour patterns of the demons don’t match that of any Marauder I’ve known – Marauders loot and plunder, not destroy utterly.” As bandits and racketeers first and foremost, it was typically in The Marauders’ interests to not engage in wholesale slaughter, better to keep the proverbial golden goose alive so that they could keep collecting the eggs, as their occupation of Zel’Mier and other usual activities have shown.

“Reports were sparse, but what few descriptions of the demons I received matched what Ms. Coleman and I encountered, in a section of the Endless Caves that ran underneath Zel’Mier territory,” Captain Khazan added, “Additionally, the residents of Cretalia have also reported similar demon sightings, in particular near their state-kingdom’s Southern borders.” 

“Have these… demons caused any trouble?” Raea asked.

“They were extremely violent and brutal,” Amy gestured in sign language in response as she nodded, “We encountered them during our pursuit of The Unsubtle; they attacked Sentinels and Marauders alike without discrimination.”

“Anyway, it’s almost time for the emergency summit, we'll talk again when it’s over,” Captain Khazan remarked, his hand closing around the door handle when a sudden commotion broke out. 

“Stand aside, peons! I have a right to attend this meeting!” An irate Vincentzo Maiinverno exclaimed as he tried to push his way past a group of fellow Sentinels, dressed not in his usual court robes and royal mantle, but instead sported a slick business suit – a gray jacket and slacks over a royal purple waistcoat with pinstripes and light blue dress shirt and gold silk necktie, with a brooch bearing Araelis’ coat of arms pinned to his jacket’s right lapel. 

“Please, Mr. Maiinverno, this is a council meeting! Only those holding seats on the leadership council are privy to attend!” A golem-like Sentinel that resembles an anthropomorphic stove protested as he and his colleagues struggled to keep the archmage from barging in. 

“So what if I’m not on the council? I am royalty and ruler of Araelis! Are these credentials not good enough!?” Vincentzo snapped back. “So stop standing in my way, I have urgent matters to report to the council!”

“With all due respect, let's not make things hard for us,” Another Sentinel – a green-haired girl in SLJ duty uniform, added.

“Archons damn it!” Vincentzo sighed in exasperation as he gave up on trying to push his way past the blockade, adjusting his necktie, “And just why did I take Woose's advice to wear this constricting outfit anyway!?”

“It’s alright, Sentinels. I’ll take it from here,” Captain Khazan gestured for the crowd of Sentinels to stand down, and they immediately parted to allow Captain Khazan to step forward, with Raea and Amy following close behind.

“Ah, if it isn’t Sir Young! Just the man I wanted to meet,” Vincentzo forced a smile at the approaching Captain Khazan. 

“But Vincentzo, what are you doing all the way out here in Khazan City?” Raea asked, curious as to why the royal archmage would travel all the way from Araelis. 

“Listen, I came here on matters of grave importance, something that demands the attention of the Sentinels’ leaders,” Vincentzo explained, “The day before, my domain has come under attack!”

Captain Khazan’s already serious expression grew even more grim, “An attack, you say? Who were the perpetrators?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Maiinverno replied, “They appear to be demons of some sort, Woose and I battled a small contingent of them on a ridge in the Boreal Wilds; I have the Archons to thank that they were encountered outside the cities… Powers That Be know what manner of havoc they could have wreaked had they entered my beloved Araelgrad!?”

The archmage ran his hand through his blonde hair, sighing again, “But we’re not out of the woods, the warrior in black leading those darkspawn says they’re but a scout unit, a tiny detachment from a far larger legion. Who knows how many of these fiends remain out there? I have no reason to not suspect that Araelis teeters on the precipice of a grave catastrophe.”

“Then who’s watching Araelis right now?” Amy chimed in, gesturing in universal sign language.

“In my absence, I tasked Woose Brain with leading and coordinating the defenses of Araelis,” Vincentzo replied, “In the meantime, I want to bring this matter up to the Sentinels Council, that’s why I requested to attend this meeting!”

“You can rest easy, Mr. Maiinverno,” Trent said in a reassuring tone, “Snap adjustments can be made to the meeting agenda to cover your point; what you have shared so far is consistent with the demon sightings in Cretalia and the attack on Sevarian City. Do not worry, I will personally keep you in the know.” 

“Oh, is that so? Well, you better! But I’m not leaving Khazan City until I hear from you personally!” Vincentzo huffed, smoothing out the creases on his suit.

“On my reputation as a Sentinels council member, you have my word,” Captain Khazan nodded firmly before stepping into the meeting hall of the SLJ Council. 

“Say, Vincentzo, is this your first time in Khazan City?” Raea asked, hitting up the archmage with some small talk in order to keep him from hyperfixating on the council meeting, “Oh, and nice outfit by the way.”

Vincentzo was initially apprehensive, but the archmage eventually demurred under Raea’s good looks and compliments. “Well I’ll be, this fair dame sure knows her way into a man’s heart!” The archmage puffed up with pride as he adjusted his tie, “You can thank Woose for that, for a bloke who wears nothing but pink gis and work overalls, he has some admittedly refined tastes!”

“But you’re right. It’s my first time seeing the Sentinels’ main headquarters with my own eyes; quite opulent I must say, even if it’s not up to the standards of my palace in Araelgrad once it’s completed!” Vincentzo continued, taking his time to inspect the architecture and interior decor of the Sentinels HQ now that his mind was – if only for the time being – no longer preoccupied with the council meeting.

“Oh, you haven’t seen everything yet,” Amy chimed in in sign language, “Our cafeteria offers food that could satisfy even the refined palate of a man such as you.” The psychic wasn’t wrong; Vincentzo wasn’t the first and by no means would be the last Sentinel to hail from a royal background, and so far, most of them had enjoyed meals in the SLJ headquarters cafeteria, which was certainly helped by the fact that the menu was created with the guidance of Sentinels who were also celebrity chefs. 

“The long trip has gotten me a tad hungry, I’ll admit,” Vincentzo nodded, having barely eaten during his long haul flight from Araelgrad to Khazan City. “Well then, show me the way,” the archmage said as he accompanied the two female Sentinels to the cafeteria to get their breakfast. 

 

Segment 18: The SLJ Conference

“No further issues I hope? We heard the commotion outside even through those doors,” Uberman asked as Captain Khazan entered the elegantly-furnished council hall, making his way towards the elliptical-shaped table in the centre of the room, with the cyborg being seated at a custom chair designed to accommodate his 10-foot fall armoured frame.

“Vincentzo was justifiably upset, but I managed to talk him around,” Captain Khazan replied as he made his way over to the intricate chairs set around the table, one with a brass tag on a holder next to the computer console bearing his name and hero codename. 

Captain Khazan took his seat, and joining him at the table were fellow Sentinel Council members Elwin D’Larthi, wife of the current of president of Khazan Prime, together with Supercomrade, Joe “Big” Gunn, Graymalkin and the head of the Sentinels Council, Uberman. 

“So, what do we know of the incident in Sevarian City?” Uberman asked as the holographic projector in the centre of the table flickered to life, displaying video feed windows of aftermath crews combing through the ruined buildings of downtown Sevarian City and the outlying suburbs. 

“According to the government of Xaelon, the first reports of attacks came from Sevarian City at around 3.13 AM,” Joe Gunn replied. As the chairman of Kill-O-Matic Big Guns, he was naturally awarded a seat on the leadership council by virtue of his company being the SLJ’s primary financier. Dressed in an expensive suit and tie, the middle-aged blonde looked more like a businessman than a superhero.

“No known group on Khazan has claimed responsibility for the attack, and the only survivors were those who fled the city right after they witnessed the first volley of bombardments, so they never got a view of the attackers,” Joe continued as he poured over the files on the computer console at his seat.

“The situation looks grim,” Captain Khazan added, “We can’t let this situation get out of hand, especially in the light of the Marauder occupation of Zel’Mier, it’s been a storm of bad PR for the SLJ of late; public pressure for action is only going to grow from here.” While individual Sentinels remain well-liked, revered figures in the eyes of the public, the perceived inaction of the SLJ during the Delagon regime’s authoritarian rule over Zel’Mier and the subsequent Marauder occupation had eroded public confidence in their organisation as a collective.

“True that,” Graymalkin added. The green-eyed vampire had messy neck-length gray hair with hanging bangs, dressed in a black leather jacket over a T-shirt and jeans. Unlike typical ancients of his kind who exuded a high-class, aristocratic vibe, Graymalkin gave off the vibes of a rock idol.

“The public thinks we’ve been holding off from conducting a joint intervention with the Khazan Armed Forces was to avoid escalation with The Marauders, or that bureaucracy dictates that the Sentinels only respond to existential threats and not political issues, but the reality is that such a degree of escalation could endanger more civilians in Zel’Mier than we could save,” The vampire continued, “But with the way things are escalating even without our direct intervention, I am of the opinion that we have no other recourse at this rate.”

“The Marauder occupation and the demon attacks are separate issues with no connections to each other,” Elwin spoke up. One of the longest-serving Sentinels, the beautiful blonde began her career in her teens as the magical girl, Sailor Archer. Now a mother of two, and a prominent politician, Elwin gracefully balances her duties as a Sentinel with Khazanian politics and family life. “I believe that for now, the attack on Sevarian City and the demons responsible should be our top priority.”

“I think we’ve been sitting on the Marauder occupation far too long, Mrs. D'Larthi, but your point is not without merit,” Uberman added, “What do we know about these demons?” 

“Out of the Sentinels, so far only myself and Ms. Coleman encountered them in person,” Captain Khazan chorused. “Mr. Maiinverno also reported fighting an army of demons near the borders of Araelis, but so far I am unable to verify if these were the same creatures I met down in the Endless Caves.” 

“I do not doubt the truthfulness of your claims, comrade,” Supercomrade interjected, the voice of the moustached Sentinel still bearing a nasal tone, a testament to the injuries he sustained during his fight with Blitzkrieg barely half a day ago, “But how do these demons evade detection when they've been down in the Endless Caves for Archons know how long?”

“I’m afraid that’s a question I have no answers for,” Captain Khazan shook his head. “But between Vincentzo’s demon encounter in Araelis, and the alleged sightings in Cretalia, and now the attack on Sevarian City, it’s not hard to draw a line connecting these dots.”

“It’s both tragic and ironic to learn of what happened to Sevarian City, especially in light of myself and Supercomrade saving the city from disaster mere hours ago,” Uberman chimed in; foiling Blitzkrieg’s plot to unleash a deadly pathogen and a rampaging Detonator, only to be destroyed by demons mere hours later. “The demons would need to have both great numbers and fearsome combat prowess to be able to destroy a city so utterly.”

“You’re right,” Captain Khazan seconded, “The Khazan Armed Forces had a garrison in the Sevarian Metropolitan Area; it’s not a major base but it’s nevertheless a sizably staffed and well-equipped one. From what the aftermath crews were able to salvage, their units made first contact with the enemy at around 4 AM, and the last transmissions stopped at 5.30 AM… the engagement lasted 90 minutes,” The Captain said grimly, letting the gravity sink in. 

“That has gotta be one of the shortest engagements in the history of the Khazanian military,” Graymalkin added, “The enemy must possess exceptional fighting capabilities in overwhelming numbers to boot to pull this off.”

“Suffice to say, they present a significant threat to the western regions,” Joe BG said.

“And if left unchecked, will present a clear danger to the whole of the mainland, if not the entire planet,” Elwin asserted herself, “If the demons Mr. Young reported fighting in the Endless Caves were indeed the same ones who attacked Sevarian City, then who knows how many more of those things are down there? It is imperative that we spearhead an operation into the Endless Caves to conduct reconnaissance on this new enemy. In the meantime, I will be leveraging on my position as First Lady and Vice President of Khazan to raise this matter to my husband to give the green light on mobilising the Khazan Armed Forces’ assets.”

“It’s been a long time since the Khazanian military mobilised for joint operations alongside the Sentinels,” Uberman said, “But I see the wisdom and ethics behind this move. This is a matter of protecting innocent lives, and that is what the SLJ stands for. Mrs. D’Larthi, I leave it in your hands to see to the mobilisation of the Khazan Armed Forces and Khazan Mobile Police.”

“Once the demon threat is dealt with, the military can be given the secondary objective of liberating Zel’Mier,” Supercomrade chorused. 

“Two birds with one stone,” Captain Khazan said, nodding.

“The last item on this meeting agenda pertains to the GDF officials in Khazan,” Graymalkin chipped in, scrolling down the computer console’s screen. “They have been in Khazan for several months now, maybe more, and they have been evasive towards inquiries as to whether they’d obtained permission from President Pharis to carry out their operations.”

“I consider this to be of minimal urgency,” Uberman responded, “Conducting intelligence operations on Khazan without the president’s knowledge and Central Government’s agreement is a breach of treaty terms, yes; but historically the DSA has never pursued any aggressive or imperialistic policies towards Khazan. For now, I say leave them be unless their actions undermine Khazanian sovereignty or subvert the authority of the Central Government.”

Graymalkin nodded, “I will be sure to assign Sentinels to monitor the GDF agents to ensure they do not overstep their bounds. Yagami Shinsuke has also told me that he has accepted the reassignment to our Cretalia branch to investigate the demon sightings.”

“I shall also contact representatives of the Maniacal heroes to see if they can support us in these operations,” Elwin said. 

“Good, I see we have agreed to the objectives,” Uberman remarked as he rose from his seat, “Meeting adjourned.” With that, the Sentinels rose from their seats and left the council hall to make the necessary preparations to conduct operations on a scale which the SLJ had not seen since their last major clash with The Fallen when they were under the direct leadership of the Void Archon himself, Quietus. 

 

Segment 19: Person of Interest

Inside his private quarters in the Drekis citadel, Shadow Wing looked up from the scrying pool as one of the Discordant Scions – an anthropomorphic feline alien bearing the likeness of a black panther and garbled in leather armour with a pair of khopesh sheathed at his belt – walked into the room. “You're inside the quarters of Shadow Wing, Scion. State your business,” Shadow Wing remarked coldly.

“Magister Shadow Wing, this humble servant brings you good news,” The panther-like humanoid replied as he got down on one knee reverently, “The preparations for your legion are almost complete.” 

“Define ‘almost’,” The Magister replied, the bottom of his robes swishing.

“In two hours give or take, the hives will meet the production quota for your army,” The Scion bowed his head.

“Then what are you waiting for? Go forth and assemble the Deminites!” The general ordered, gesturing for the Scion to rise, “Have you not heard of Deimos and Avalon’s joint strike in Xaelon? Every moment we dilly dally is more time for every major power on the face of Khazan to rally against us. Every stage of our preparation must be on schedule if His Eminence’s campaign is to go smoothly.” 

“It will be as you command, Magister,” The Discordant Scion remarked as he quickly rose to his feet and left Shadow Wing’s quarters.

Left alone now, Shadow Wing mused, gazing pensively into the scrying pool, “I expected Darkenfire and Deimos to make bold moves, but I never expected this level of audacity from them. Heh, things can only get more interesting from here indeed…”

“Lord Shadow Wing, I come bearing a report…” A ghostly voice echoed in the room, followed by a white fog appearing out of nowhere, quickly condensing and coalescing into the shape of a man in elaborate wizard robes, with an empty void under the hood where a face should have been. The entity is a Phantom Sorcerer, an elite minion of Drekis – an incorporeal, wraithlike entity skilled in the art of dark sorcery.

“What is it, sorcerer?” Shadow Wing snarled, glaring at the Phantom Sorcerer. “This had better be important for you to barge in while I’m on the verge of mobilising my legion!”

“Rest assured, Magister, for this will definitely interest you,” The Phantom Sorcerer bowed, “Our divinations have revealed to us the arrival of a starship in the Khazanian star system as we speak. I am certain they are headed to Khazan.”

“Starships of all kinds head to and leave Khazan every single hour, just what does this particular one have that demands my attention?” Shadow Wing retorted.

“It's best that you see for yourself, milord,” The Phantom Sorcerer drifted over to the scrying pool and cast a spell over it to allow the water’s reflective surface to display what his divinations had picked up. The Magister saw the void of space at the outer fringes of the Khazanian system, where a small and sleek vessel was shown dropping out of hyperspace and charting a course towards Khazan.

“We detected the presence of GDF-issue technology on board this ship,” The wraithlike minion explained, “But the ship itself is not a standard GDF model… That’s why we decided to refer the matter to a Magister. Perhaps you are better-equipped for determining whether or not this ship poses a threat.”

Shadow Wing examined the ship carefully; it wasn’t a standard GDF model, of that he was certain. However, the general’s sharp eyes spotted a symbol on the port side of the vessel that he quickly recognised. “Seems like we underestimated the resourcefulness and persistence of the GDF,” He commented, giving off a dry chuckle. 

“I beg your pardon, Magister?” The sorcerer queried.

“I recognise that symbol anywhere – that is a Seeker ship,” Shadow Wing replied, a cruel smirk playing on his face, “The GDF must be getting desperate if they have to resort to hiring these bounty dogs to come after us.”

“But how could they have found out?” The Phantom Sorcerer wondered.

“The GDF may be fools, but even a broken clock is correct twice a day,” Shadow Wing snickered, “That’s why they are not to be underestimated. Dispatch Terror Beasts to intercept them, make sure their cloaking auras are activated so that no one on Khazan detects their launch. I want that Seeker vessel turned to space dust.”

“As you command Magister, none shall live!” The Phantom Sorcerer gave Shadow Wing one last bow before disincorporating, turning to fog before vanishing as if he was never in the room to begin with.

 

Segment 20: Enter The Seekers

Dropping out from hyperspace at the fringe of the Khazan-Mater System, the Seeker ship christened as the “RavenStorm” passed planets, moons and asteroid fields as it charted a course towards Khazan. By GDF standards, at no more than 75 metres long from nose to tail, it was considered an intra-system shuttle rather than an interstellar ship, or that would have been the case were it not for half of the ship’s length being dedicated to housing a hyperdrive, albeit at the cost of greatly reduced cargo and passenger capacity. 

Viewed from afar, the silver vessel bore a conical profile that is shaped vaguely like a mollusk’s shell, while two structures resembling curved wings trailed from the ship’s aft, providing additional boosters for speed and manoeuvrability. 

On board the RavenStorm’s bridge, Telissa Ravan poured over the readouts displayed on the technical console as she ran repeated scans over Khazan. In stark contrast to the uptight Telissa, her partner Robert Neil lounged comfortably in his seat, only occasionally looking at the navigational console as their ship cruised on autopilot, steered by the navigation computer’s on-board AI. 

“How are you so certain they’re on this planet anyway?” Robert asked as he flopped out of his chair to do some push ups on his knuckles. 

“Was there any reason to doubt the leads we’ve gathered?” Telissa responded, her mind recalling the Discordant Scion they had interrogated four weeks ago on a backwater colony world, thousands of light years away. “Besides, I can feel his presence.”

Robert sat back in his chair after about thirty push ups, grinning cheekily at Telissa’s remark, “Ooh, what’s that supposed to mean? Woman’s intuition?”

“Please, Rob, can you act your age for once?” Telissa huffed as she leaned in to give her partner an elbow to the ribs – putting just enough force into it to not hurt him, but to send a ‘friendly’ reminder she was close to being done with his childish jokes.

“Oof! Sorry about that,” Robert mewled in response, rubbing his side but still keeping his shit-eating grin. 

“That archfiend Drekis thinks he could hide from me? Think again!” Telissa remarked as she inspected her sidearm – an EZ-123 pistol, Seeker issue. Caseless ammunition that is electrically rather than mechanically primed, frictionless barrel, wireless interfacing with helmet or power armour targeting systems, a high-tech application of a time-tested technology.

“Look, Telissa… I understand how you feel and how much you want revenge on Drekis for what he did to your homeworld, but have you ever considered that your obsession towards him is sending us on a suicide run?” Robert asked, running his hand through his hazel coloured hair, “Like, how do you expect two bounty hunters to take on an entire space empire?” 

“My species went from nearly 11 billion, to barely a thousand thanks to that bastard,” Telissa replied, ice on her voice and fire in her eyes. “And the same can be said for over 20,000 planets during the last 800 years the DSA has recorded encounters with him. This isn’t purely revenge, Rob. One way or another, I aim to prevent the same tragedy that has replayed itself for centuries from repeating itself.”

“And I know that deep inside, you feel the same way too,” She continued, “It’s the only reason you’ve stuck around as my partner for this long, isn't it?” 

“Sheesh, I can see why you go through partners like I go through my boots,” Robert sighed, slumping back in his seat. For as long as he could remember being Telissa’s partner, Robert hardly ever heard her talk about anything not related to hunting down Drekis; and only ever accepted bounty assignments that she thought might offer leads on Drekis. It was little wonder then, that many of Telissa’s partners got driven up the wall by her antics.

“But yeah, you’re right, I didn’t become a Seeker for the pay alone. In this troubled galaxy, we need someone who can act proactively when the wheels of justice are stuck on red tape,” The male Seeker said with a reassuring smile, “Still, if you’re so certain Drekis is on Khazan, shouldn’t we contact Seekers HQ to request backup and for them to pressure the GDF into more direct action?”

“I’ve presented my findings to the Seekers’ high administration ages ago,” Telissa replied assertively, “Told me that they’ve shared the intel with the GDF, and that they’re investigating it. Well that ain’t good enough! These suits don’t know Drekis like I do… Time is his greatest weapon; the longer they drag their feet with all their ‘investigation’, bureaucratic processes and endless politicking, the more time Drekis has to spawn his demonic thralls and amass fanatical supporters. No, I am going to approach the leaders of Khazan with evidence of Drekis’ activity on their planet and convince them to take immediate, full-scale military action.” 

Robert buried his forehead in his right hand as he gave a morbid chuckle, “I’m with you in this, but there’s always gonna be a part of me that will wonder how did I go from taking contracts on crime bosses and terrorists to accompanying a revenge-crazed she-devil on a quest to hunt down what basically amounts to the cosmic boogeyman?”

“If Drekis is the boogeyman, then I’ll be the one they call to kill the boogeyman,” Telissa remarked, her blue eyes suddenly widening at a notification flashing across her technical console. “Rob! Look at this!” 

“What is it?” Robert leaned over; the only time Telissa got so animated was when she found new leads to Drekis, so he figured it had to be a significant development.

“The RavenStorm’s scans returned a positive reading on umbricite signals, that’s a sure sign of Drekis’ presence! We’ve seen it on every other planet where Drekis has established a foothold,” Telissa replied, her voice grim. 

“Or what lay people call ‘Darkstone’... It’s the stuff Deminite Drones use to build the hive-fortresses with,” Robert added. 

Telissa nodded, her grip tightening on the controls, “Damn straight, that archfiend is in Khazan, no doubt about that.”

“Emergency! Hostile energy signatures detected!” The ship’s AI suddenly announced in a digitally-synthesised female voice as red warning lights flashed. A quick glance at the pilot console showed three blips approaching the RavenStorm. “Enemy ID confirmed, Terror Beasts incoming.”

“Terror Beasts!? How the hell!?” Robert yelled as he swiveled around in his seat to the weapons operator console. “Just where do these assholes spring from?”

“They must’ve approached us under a cloaking field!” Telissa replied through clenched teeth as the RavenStorm’s weapon systems began powering up.

“Well, fuck me!” Robert hissed as three large organitech starships shaped like giant decapod crustaceans loomed into view, their bio-energy cannons powering up with an ominous green glow. “How long has Drekis been on this planet for his hives to be able to spawn Terror Beasts!?” 

“A lot longer than we originally thought; this is getting worse by the minute!” Telissa said grimly as she grabbed the control handles and pushed the RavenStorm’s engines to maximum output, hoping to evade the Terror Beasts – determined to let nothing stand between her and Khazan.

As the RavenStorm sped towards the blockade, the Terror Beasts took up a triangular formation – two in the front and one at the rear – and began unleashing a fusillade of particle beams from their bio-cannons. 

Sweat rolled down Telissa’s forehead as she performed a series of evasive manoeuvres – rolls, twists and serpentines – to avoid the incoming barrage, but even her piloting skills and AI guidance could not completely avoid the sheer volume of fire being directed at them as particle beams struck the RavenStorm’s shields. 

“Crap! Those bio-cannons pack one hell of a bite! Freakin’ chewed through our shields with just two hits!” Robert raised his voice to be heard above the blaring alarms and AI announcements.

“Warning! Shield energy critical, collapse imminent!” The ship AI declared.

“Well, the RavenStorm’s armour hasn’t buckled! Let’s see how they handle being bitten back!” Telissa’s voice oozed defiance and steely resolve, “We’ve got fangs of our own; let’s see whose are sharper!” 

The RavenStorm returned fire, unleashing its own barrage of anti-ship lasers and molecular disruptor arrays. Telissa and Robert fired the ship’s weapons with deadly accuracy, the assault breaking off chunks of the Terror Beasts’ carapaces the size of houses and sending globs of their greenish ichor into the void. 

To her growing shock and horror, the Terror Beasts remain unfazed by the damage; as soon as she ceased fire, the giant biomechanoids began to regenerate at a stunning pace. It was then that Telissa realised that this wasn’t a battle between apex predators, but rather a house cat desperately trying to sink its fangs into a tiger. 

“Bio-regeneration!?” Telissa went wild-eyed with shock as her grip tightened so much on the control handles that it looked like she could snap them off, “These are evolved variants!” 

“Evolved?” Robert chorused, his voice trembling with worry.

“This is our final gambit,” Telissa said grimly as she adjusted some settings on the pilot console, “I’m rerouting power from the weapons and what’s left of the shields to the engines. We’ll speed right past those bastards!”

“Wait, what!? That’s insanity!” Robert flailed his arms in protest. 

“Better crazy than dead!” Telissa retorted as the RavenStorm’s boosters went into overdrive, the tremendous G-force plastering the two Seekers to their chairs as their ship charged straight into the fusillade of particle beams, chipping away at the RavenStorm’s ablative plating. Sections of its armour buckled, but against all odds they managed to zip through a gap in the Terror Beasts’ formation, their aft cannons unleashing bolts of plasma at the Seeker vessel.

The Terror Beasts turned to give chase, but the smaller Seeker ship proved their superior in speed and manoeuvrability. In a last-ditch effort to bring down their target, the biomechanoids fired a massive salvo of missiles after the ship – or more accurately, symbiotes that function as organitech suicide drones. 

Telissa took the RavenStorm in a series of rolls and flips to avoid the kamikaze biomechs as they exploded all around the ship, surrounding it with plasmatic fireballs. “There’s too many for me to dodge! Brace for impact!”

More sparkly exhaust trails streaked past the RavenStorm as kamikazes exploded around them even as the planet of Khazan drew ever closer, but eventually the Seekers’ luck ran out as one of kamikaze biomechs crashed into the tail of their ship and self-destructed, the explosion destroying one of the crescent-shaped wings and sending sickening tremors through the entire frame.

“Warning! Hull breach detected! Reactor functions compromised!” The ship AI announced, as a wireframe diagram of the RavenStorm appeared on the console, showing the extent of the damage.

“C’mon, we’re gonna make it!” Telissa chanted the same words again and again like some sort of mantra, her eyes blazing with defiance. “Rob, strap yourself in! It’s gonna get hot in here!” 

The RavenStorm entered Khazan’s upper atmosphere, still hounded by kamikazes, the vessel’s heat shields nearly collapsing due to the sheer speed of their atmospheric entry. However, the gambit paid off as most of the kamikazes burned up in the atmosphere and exploded, but two more remained hot on the Seekers’ tail. 

“Telissa, are the controls still responding?” Robert asked, a combination of the cold sweat of fear and the sweat of the re-entry heat rolling down his forehead.

“Not to worry!” Telissa replied with gritty resolve. “We didn’t travel all the way to Khazan just to die to a bunch of mindless biomechanoids!” Telissa quickly realised she’d tempted fate as one more kamikaze exploded against the RavenStorm, sending more shudders through the stricken ship. 

“Warning! Warning! Reactor critical!” The AI announced. 

“No freakin’ way!” Robert yelled as he adjusted the ship’s damage control systems, “Telissa, we’re toast unless something is done, fast!” 

“Only one way outta this!” Telissa replied as she flipped open a cover on the dashboard to reveal a large red lever outlined within a yellow and black striped box. “I’m gonna decouple the RavenStorm’s bridge from the rest of the ship!” 

“You serious? Nobody’s ever performed an emergency decoupling in the middle of an atmospheric re-entry!” Robert's eyes went so wide, they looked almost ready to bulge out of their sockets.

“Always a first time for everything!” Telissa declared, flashing a grin that's equal parts defiance and insanity as she tugged the lever. More violent shudders ran through the craft as the bridge was jettisoned from the main body of the ship scant moments before the last kamikaze slammed into the engine, the two consuming themselves in a nuclear inferno. 

“Here, catch this!” the blonde shouted as she tossed a device that resembled a briefcase to Robert, while holding another identical device in another hand.

“I would’ve called this madness, but I think we’re way past that point,” Robert commented as he activated his device in unison with Telissa, which quickly expanded into a heavy exoskeleton suit with top-level environmental shielding that covered the two Seekers from head to toe. 

“Now what?” Robert asked as he held on for dear life.

“If you believe in any god, pray to him or her for protection!” Telissa replied as she braced herself.

Lacking a proper propulsion system, the decoupled bridge of the RavenStorm went from a barely-controlled descent to an all-out nosedive as the temperature soared, burning through the heat shield. Telissa felt her breathing get laboured as she began to feel the heat through the protective suit, her vision slowly darkening before the entire world went black.

 

Segment 21: An Unexpected Encounter

For close to an hour Timothy Shinestar had been sparring with Raul Estrada – a black-haired older man with a military-style flattop, dressed in a khaki army T-shirt, multicam combat trousers and combat boots. Raul’s Kali stick struck the flat side of Tim’s heirloom sword with a clang as the young swordsman got his guard up in the nick of time to block a swing from the ex-soldier’s weapon. But in blocking Raul’s swing Tim was left wide open to a snap kick from the older man as the blow sent him skidding across the practice mat.

“Come on, put more gas into it, Shinestar! I’m barely working a sweat here,” The Filipino remarked, his tone nonchalant as Tim recovered from his stagger. Raul was a friend of Raea’s parents who had a long and storied military career, first in the Armed Forces of the Philippines as a counter-insurgency commando, followed by serving as a Khazan Ranger upon moving to Khazan Prime and finally ending his career as a CQC instructor for the Khazan Rangers. Despite being retired from military service for close to a decade, the former soldier hadn’t lost his edge.

Tim tugged at the collar of his T-shirt to wipe the sweat off his face, before taking another swing at Raul, who effortlessly dodged. The silver-haired youth swung again, and Raul parried before shoving him back. “Are you saying… you’ve been holding back the whole time?” The swordsman demanded, before shouting a war cry and charging in like a bull.

Raul tilted his body to the side to avoid the attack, the glow from his bionic eye getting brighter. “You wouldn’t want to – you can’t handle me at that level, not yet.”

The realisation that Raul had been taking it easy struck a nerve in Tim, perceiving it as condescension. “I’m not a child, Raul! Enough with the kid gloves already!” The young swordsman yelled as he went in swinging like a beast, the speed and power he put into every blow made his sword a barely perceptible blur of silver – yet Raul defended against each and every blow with impeccable timing and watchlike precision, with no extraneous movements nor wasted energy behind every dodge and parry.

“RAAAH!” Tim roared as he took his sword in a two-handed grip and performed a roundhouse swing with every ounce of strength – Raul crossed his Kali sticks together and blocked the powerful blow, sending him skidding to the far end of the mat.

“Very well – let me humour you… prepare yourself,” Estrada remarked as he uncrossed his weapons and changed his fighting stance, beckoning at Tim with the tip of his left Kali stick before closing the gap in the blink of an eye and performing a powerful horizontal swing. Tim brought his sword up to parry, only to fall right into a feint as Raul pivoted around in a heartbeat to perform a right uppercut with his other Kali stick, knocking Tim’s sword out of his hands.

Before the silver-haired swordsman could even process being disarmed of his weapon, Raul followed with a low sweep with his left leg, tripping Tim onto the mat with a dull thud.

By the time Shinestar had fully processed the situation, he found his neck scissored between Raul’s crossed Kali sticks as the old soldier knelt over him on one knee.

“That brings my total kill count to five,” Raul said as he lowered his weapons and got off from Tim, before reaching down to offer a hand to help the younger man back to his feet.

“Ugh… and zero for me,” Tim sighed as he took hold of Estrada’s hand and got back onto his feet with the old soldier’s help, “That was humiliating.”

“My humble apologies,” Raul chuckled nervously, “But with the way you kept badgering me, I couldn’t turn down your demands indefinitely. But hey, better to be humbled in a spar, than end up dead on the battlefield!”

Noticing Tim’s downcast expression, the older man leaned in and gave him a firm pat on the back, “Don’t feel too bad about it Tim – I see potential in you; in case you hadn’t noticed you lasted longer this round than the previous four put together. You’re getting better at it!”

Tim nodded, a smile returning to his countenance.

Raul continued, “However, your technique and strategy leave much to be desired; you allow your anger and emotions to get the better of you way too many times, and you rely too much on overwhelming force when performing your attacks.” The old soldier walked over to the mini-fridge in the corner of the garage to retrieve two canned sports drinks, tossing one to Timothy, “I may not know how that sword of yours works, but I can say this much – swinging that weapon around like a brute won’t bring you any closer to mastering it. If I may hazard a guess, these same mistakes were what got you eliminated from the FPL qualifiers, am I right?” 

Tim sighed as he caught hold of the offered sports drink, “Can’t seem to hide anything from you huh?” He said in a sheepish voice as he opened the can, taking a long swing before setting the can down with a loud sigh, “But you’re right, Senor Estrada; I am still peeved over the FPL qualifier results and channeled that anger during our spar… I’ll need more practice.”

“Patience is a virtue, young one,” Raul smiled, “Everything I know today, I learned the hard way – just like how you most likely will in due time. I just hope you won’t have to pay the price I did.” The former soldier gestured towards his cybernetic arms and bionic eye; all grim reminders of past mistakes with heavy prices to pay.

“Most people don't see it this way though, they look at all that chrome and go, whoa, how did you get to keep all these military-grade cybernetics after being discharged from service?” The Filipino mused as he flexed his cybernetic arms, “They quickly change their tone after I tell them what they will need to go through in order to earn the right to keep them, though.” 

Timothy finished his drink, then stretched and picked up his sword, “Alright then, care to see how long I’ll last for round six?”

Raul chuckled as he brushed the small soul patch under his lower lip before rubbing his chin thoughtfully, “Y’know, young friend, as much as I find the notion tempting… I think it’s about time we called it a day. We’ve been at it for almost the whole morning since breakfast… head home and get some rest, okay?”

“Will do, Senor Estrada,” Tim nodded as he sheathed his father’s ancient blade and picked up his flannel shirt as he left Raul's house and headed to his hovercar parked by the road shoulder outside the front yard. The young swordsman looked pensively at the sword as he rested it on top of the dashboard – for all the powers the sword could apparently grant, they were of a nature unlike anything else on Khazan, and no-one he consulted could bring him any closer to enlightenment.

As Tim started the engine, he noticed a distant sparkle in the sky, which grew closer and closer by the second. ‘A shooting star?’ He thought, before realising that it was too bright to be one – a meteor wouldn’t have this level of visibility in broad daylight. As the object continued its descent, Tim noticed the smoke and flames trailing behind it. “That’s no meteor, that’s a ship!”

Tim drove off as fast as the speed limit would allow, trying to track the falling starship as it continued to descend; he eventually lost track of the starship as it vanished below the horizon, but if he were to hazard a guess, it would likely land in the river valley between the outskirts of Uptown Khazan City and the neighbouring Selni City.

True to Timothy’s guesses, after ten minutes of driving out of Khazan City along the highway the young swordsman spotted plumes of smoke rising into the air, and after driving a bit further saw that a section of the woodland had been flattened, as if a large body had ploughed right through those trees. Pulling his vehicle to a halt on the road shoulder, Tim exited the car with his sword in hand. Following the trail of fallen trees, the young man arrived at the burning wreckage of a crashed starship, or what looked like the detached bridge of one. Inching closer towards the wreck, Tim observed two figures in protective suits emerge from the remains, with one dragging the other out. 

After dragging the other suited figure to a safe distance, the first suited figure removed their helmet, revealing the face of an attractive blue-eyed blonde with long hair, tied back in a high ponytail. She looked young, around the same age as Tim, and as the rest of the suit came off it was revealed that she wore under it a practical white shirt over a navy utility vest and black cargo shorts – likely some kind of law enforcer’s uniform judging from the emblem patches on the sleeve, though Shinestar could not identify the symbols.

“H-hey, you need any help, miss?” Tim asked shakily as he approached the pair, “You’re hurt,” He continued, noting that the woman was bleeding on the right arm, the once-white fabric of her sleeve soaked red with blood.

Upon hearing his voice, the young woman did a quick about-turn and pulled an advanced-looking pistol from her belt holster, its targeting laser painting a glowing green dot on Tim’s chest. “What do you want? Answer me and keep your hands where I can see them,” She said gruffly as her finger rested against the trigger.

“Easy miss, I mean you no harm!” Tim exclaimed as he dropped his sword and raised his hands above his head, “I only want to help.”

The blonde looked Tim up and down, apprehension written on her face. After a few tense seconds that felt like minutes, she gave an exasperated sigh and slipped the pistol back into her holster, “Take me to the nearest city,” The woman spoke to Tim in fluent Khazanian, but with a peculiar accent that hinted at her offworld origins.

“N-no problem, I have a car nearby, I’ll drive you there,” Tim gestured to where he parked his hovercar, “You’re in Khazan Prime, by the way.”

“Which part of Khazan I’m in is not important!” She replied brusquely, her tone carrying urgency. “What’s important is that I get to speak to your leaders!”

“What? Why? Your friend looks like he’s in really bad shape… shouldn’t we help him first?” A dumbfounded Tim wondered as he gestured to the second suited figure who was lying on the ground, writhing slightly while muffled groans issued from within his helmet.

“We’ll get him to the nearest hospital,” The blonde woman said as she got down to remove her partner’s helmet, revealing the face of a man with short hazel-brown hair and perma-stubble who looked about 5-10 years’ older than Tim. The man was battered, bloodied and fighting for his life as each breath came with great effort.

“But we have little time,” She continued as Tim helped her to carry the other man. “It’s imperative that I speak to your leaders; the parliament, the congress, the president or basically whoever or whatever represents this world’s governing body!”

Tim remained confused as helped the young woman rest her partner in the hovercar’s rear seat, “But what could be so urgent that you have to speak to the Central Government’s representatives?” Shinestar asked as he took the steering wheel, with the blonde sitting next to him. 

As Timothy jammed his foot against the accelerator and sped back towards Khazan City, the blonde gave an exasperated groan and retrieved an identification card from her pocket, one bearing the same emblem Tim saw on her uniform sleeve. 

“I’m with the Seekers, and I represent the Galactic Defence Force on official business,” The woman said grimly as she stared at Tim through a pair of narrowed eyes, “I need to speak to your leaders because this planet is in grave danger!”

 

To be Continued...

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Onward to Chapter 3: Tides of Darkness

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