War of Drekis, Rearmed - Chapter 4: Eve of the Last Stand

[Justin Law]

Chapter 4: Eve of the Last Stand

 

Segment 35: A Quiet Conversation

“Tell me how he’s doing!” Telissa burst into Robert Neil’s ward on the 2nd floor of the Helia Special Care Unit. As soon as Timothy shared the notification he received on his phone that Robert was out of emergency, Telissa had dropped everything that she was doing prior and badgered the silver-haired swordsman to take her to the First Khazan Hospital. Her voice carried urgency, but also an undercurrent of guilt – holding herself partly responsible for Robert’s current state due to her reckless piloting of the RavenStorm.

“Please, Telissa, calm down!” Shinestar bleated in protest as he tried to hold back the female Seeker, but he had about as much success doing so as a child pulling back on an excited St. Bernard’s leash as he was dragged forward by Telissa.

As of the duo’s arrival, Robert had regained consciousness and was being fed a meal by a nurse – a nutrient-rich gel that was hung from an IV drip rack – that he carefully sucked through a thin flexible tube. The male Seeker’s limbs were put in casts, while the burns and lacerations on his face were carefully wrapped in dressing while a medical scanner positioned above his bed scanned him every few seconds with a green beam, providing constant updates on his condition. 

“Meow, I understand your concern over your friend’s condition, but please keep your volume down for his sake,” The nurse – a gray tabby catgirl with amethyst twintailed hair and dressed in a pink and white nurse uniform – replied in a polite but authoritative tone as she adjusted the glass pyramid dangling over the bed.

“Right, my apologies,” Telissa sighed as she stepped back, while Tim exited the ward to wait outside. 

“Let’s see… Patient Name: Robert Neil, Species: Human, Age: 28,” The nekomimi nurse’s tail swished left and right as she swiped on the screen of her tablet, going over the medical scan results. “Admitted with multiple broken ribs, compound fracture of the right arm, dislocated jaw, open fracture of the left tibia, second and third degree burns, internal bleeding, numerous lacerations and severe concussion. Dr. Mendelssohn has made considerable progress on his condition, and he reckons that he should be back on his feet in another 48 hours, no later than the next week, meow.”

“For real? Is it possible for him to recover that quickly?” An incredulous Telissa gasped.

The nekomimi nurse’s feline ears fluttered, “Of course, meow,” Her voice was both confident and reassuring. “The Helia Special Care Unit is one of Khazan’s top medical facilities; this is already a worst-case scenario. Under more normal circumstances, we could’ve fixed him up even sooner, meow.”

“Worst-case scenario?” Tim and Telissa asked in unison.

The catgirl pursed her lips, leaving a short beat of uneasy silence that felt like close to an hour to Telissa. But finally, she answered, “Meow, due to the situation at Xaelis, the Special Care Unit’s most powerful healers have been transferred to assist in rehabilitating the wounded there. It was imperative that the wounded soldiers involved in Operation Pavise be restored to full combat capability ASAP; hence at the moment the best we have is Mendelssohn’s Pyramid Power Healing.”

Robert turned his head and struggled to sit up as Telissa approached his bedside. As if she wasn’t already infuriated enough by what Drekis’ lackeys have done to her partner, the events playing out in Xaelon further stoked her anger as a TV mounted to the far wall showed a news update on the battle of Xaelis – it had been five days since the full-scale attack on the city, but numerous small-scale skirmishes have been fought between the Khazan Armed Forces and Drekis Empire since. And right now, Telissa was torn between volunteering on the frontlines to hold back the advance of Drekis’ troops, or to seek out the archfiend directly.

With some effort, Robert managed to raise his head. “Hey Telissa,” He greeted her in a husky voice, trying to put on a smile.

“Rob, please don’t struggle for my sake,” Telissa whispered back, “If the pain is too much, then try not to move… you don’t want to set back your own recovery.”

“Drekis… did you manage to get him?” Robert asked as he tried to laugh, only to end up coughing from the effort.

“I wished that was so… I certainly do,” Telissa smiled back as she rested a gentle hand on his forehead. “But not yet. Don’t you worry though – it’s only a matter of time. In the meantime, just focus on getting better, alright?”

Robert sighed as he laid his head back down on the pillow, “Sorry, Telissa… for not being by your side for this mission.”

“Don’t say that, Rob,” Telissa interjected, her voice quivering with remorse as tears welled up in the corners of her eyes as she held one of his hands. “If anything, I’m the one who should apologise to you, if only I hadn’t flown the ship headlong into that blockade. My obsession led you to this.”

“You got nothing to feel sorry about,” Robert replied. “I know what I signed up for when I got assigned as your partner. Right now, let’s wager to see what happens first, whether I return to the saddle or you get that archfiend first.”

“Well, I see the concussion hasn’t changed the part of you that makes you Robert Neil,” Telissa managed to force a weary smile. “I got a feeling this mission is going to take quite some time; but rest assured, I will not be undertaking this alone – I have Khazan’s heroes watching my back.”

Robert managed to chuckle weakly at Telissa’s statement, “That’s nice to hear; when you put a round between that bastard’s eyes, tell him that it was for me, will you?”

Telissa nodded as she brushed her hand against Robert’s cheek, “You bet I would. But it’s not just for you, it’s for everyone who’s ever lost loved ones to that archfiend. Get well soon, Rob.”

Tim looked up from his phone as Telissa exited the ward, “So, how’s your friend doing?” The young swordsman asked as he rose from the bench. 

“He’s doing well,” Telissa replied, “He should be back on his feet in a day or two, likely even earlier had they not been forced to relocate their best healers to Xaelon due to the battle of Xaelis. I’m going to Xaelon, if it’s the last thing I-”

Tim cut her off by raising his hand, “Hey, hey, remember what I told you the last time you tried to fly off to fight?”

“I know, I know, it wouldn’t do any good. I’m just frustrated,” The Seeker grunted as she slammed her fist against the wall nearby, making a dull thump. “All we know so far is that Drekis’ base is somewhere in the Endless Caves, but where do we even begin searching?”

“Yeah, they pretty much run under every nook and cranny of the main continent. I don’t even think they’ve been completely mapped yet,” Tim added. 

“I understand Elwin has plans to assemble a task force to investigate the caves, but she underestimates how quickly Drekis works. We need immediate action; we can’t waste time looking for him. By the time we found him, his army would’ve already ravaged half of this continent!” Telissa growled, her fists tightening.

“Please calm down, Telissa, you look like you’re about to blow a fuse or something!” Tim remarked, trying to lighten the mood, but Telissa gave him an angry stare and the silver haired Khazanian quickly looked away.

“I mean, you shouldn’t worry about Khazan. We’re a pretty tough planet!” Shinestar reassured her. “Our government and army are pretty strong, and the most powerful champions from across the cosmos come to participate in the Fantasy Powers League,” There was a wistful quality in Tim’s voice as he gazed out of the window with a faraway look in his eyes, recalling his aspirations to become a Sentinel and to participate in the FPL, something that he’d been repeatedly snubbed with as the sting from the last rejected application as a tryout for the SLJ came back to haunt him.

Telissa sighed, folding her arms as she shook her head. “I know, I just feel like we should be doing more. I don’t know.”

“Umm, let’s see. Y’know, I’m meeting Raea for lunch in about an hour,” Tim said, glancing at the watch on his wrist. “I... guess you could come eat with us. It might... I don’t know... take your mind off some of this?”

“I suppose,” Telissa shrugged, “I don’t have much else to do around here.”

 

Segment 36: Hollow Triumph

From the top of the Inner City wall, Uberman watched as Xaelis’ civilians volunteered in evacuating the wounded for medical attention and assisted the Khazan Armed Forces in repairing the defensive bulwarks. While the Inner City remained untouched so far, large swathes of the outlying districts had borne the scars of the last siege by Drekis’ forces, bringing ruin to the beautiful city known for its honest, hospitable and hardworking populace.

The cyborg listened to Captain Khazan’s reports with growing incredulity – the Drekis Empire. In his time on Khazan, Uberman had heard stories of the Drekis Empire; passed down over the generations across known space, but it was hard to tell apart which accounts were history and which were myths. And even if they were all true, much of Khazan’s population had regarded the Drekis Empire as none of the business, a threat lurking beyond the stars that’s too distant for them to care. But now, undeniable proof exists that the Drekis Empire has established a beachhead on Khazan, and the question is how to go about combating them.

In every account Uberman had heard of, no world had ever been completely successful at fighting off the Drekis Empire and its legions; the few times that the Drekis Empire had faced defeat, it was always a pyrrhic victory for the defending world. Not that it deterred the Sentinels leader – the history of Khazan had proven that Khazan was simply built different from other worlds in DSA space, and Uberman swore that he would lead the Khazanians to victory. 

A Hymenoptera touched down at the helipad at the command base, and from it exited Scout and Captain Khazan, both looking worn and weary. From the distance, Uberman could see a military convoy heading back to Xaelis, along with many injured soldiers and Khazan Rangers. So far, the enemy hadn’t made any major incursions since the siege of Xaelis, but numerous skirmishes were fought in the surrounding countryside of the Xaelis Metropolitan Area, and everyone believed it was only a matter of time before the armies of Drekis attempted another all-out attack. 

Uberman flew from the fortifications to meet the Colonel and his fellow Sentinel at the helipad, while two Khazan Rangers also exited the gunship transport, helping an injured companion limp along towards the medical centre. “Your faces alone tell me that the battle hadn’t gone well,” Uberman remarked in a grim tone.

Captain Khazan and Scout both trudged back to the inner city of Xaelis, both physically and mentally drained from the battle they had just fought. They quickly ascended to the top of the city walls where Uberman was watching and gave their report to the SLJ leader.

“As soul-crushing as it is to say it, yes,” Captain Khazan sighed, “We were hoping to push the enemy out of the Greater Xaelis Region altogether, but the best we could manage is to keep them contained at the southern banks of the Falcon River; those rapscallions sure dug in deep. We’ve launched numerous raids to push them further back, but each time we’re forced to abort due to unacceptable losses.”

“I believe they are receiving a continual supply of reinforcements from beyond Xaelon’s borders,” Scout added as the three of them made their way to the operations command centre. “There’s no other explanation for how they get more and more effective at repelling our assaults with each skirmish. At the rate their troop strength is increasing, it’s only a matter of time before they launch another all-out attack on Xaelis.”

“We can’t allow that to happen!” Captain Khazan interjected. “During our skirmishes, you’ve seen what happens when those fiends and their allies get anywhere near the city. If they attempt another siege at their current strength, they will likely breach our outer defenses and the death toll of innocents is going to be immeasurable!”

“We’ve already lost too many innocent lives,” Uberman chorused, “We don’t have the manpower or materiel to launch another raid on the enemy encampments… It’s going to take at least tomorrow for us to have the required resources. But based on what you saw on the frontline, how ready do you think the enemy is to besiege Xaelis?”

Scout slumped down in a chair with a heavy sigh, “Given what Trent and I saw back there? I say they could besiege Xaelis as early as tonight.”

“If they can, then they almost certainly will,” Uberman replied in a grim voice. “They’ve already managed to annul whatever gains we made at this point – they’re regaining momentum, and there’s no reason for them to not capitalise on it.”

“To make matters worse,” Captain Khazan said as he looked out of the window at the skies that were becoming overcast with grey clouds, “There’s a high likelihood of bad weather at night too; we can expect more heavy rain, and possibly fog too.”

“Those are perfect conditions for them to stage an attack,” Scout added, “We will need to set up more Gungnirs on the Inner City walls ASAP.”

“It’s absolutely perfect for an attack,” Scout exclaimed. “It’s my humble suggestion, sir, that we get more Gungnirs operating as quickly as possible around the Inner City. This enemy is unlike anything I’ve faced in my career – they attack relentlessly without any sense of self-preservation or concern for their comrades, and never seem to need any sleep, food or water. They have no logistic or intelligence networks that I can discern, yet they never suffer from supply shortages and always appear in the right place at the right time to stage an ambush. We will need reinforcements and fresh supplies, Xaelis is as good as gone.”

It was no small frustration to the Colonel that the Drekis forces defy everything he understood about warfare – the Khazan Ranger’s doctrine relies on sapping the enemy’s will to fight; take out their leadership, cut off their supply lines and communications, and their morale will crumble. But the concept of morale appeared to be alien to the Drekis minions as the creatures themselves are alien to the Khazanians.

“I understand we’ve all been through hell,” Uberman remarked, “But we can’t afford to despair – that would be what the enemy wants. I agree that we need more arms, ammo and manpower, but the unprecedented nature of our current situation means the Central Government will need time to pass a bill for full-scale mobilisation of the military. But for now, I just got a call from Elwin that another fleet of airships is inbound for Xaelis to deliver reinforcements.”

“All this, without a final bill being passed by the senate?” Captain Khazan chimed in, impressed at how the First Lady managed to bypass the Prime senate to approve reinforcements; but he figured she must’ve leveraged on her husband to do so. “I don’t know how she managed it, but I know we can count on Elwin!”

“I wish I could share your optimism… But I just feel it in my bones…” Scout commented as he removed a pack of cigarettes from a pouch on his armour’s carrying rig, “...That the next major attack on Xaelis is going to be the final battle for this city.” The Colonel lit the cigarette before taking a long puff, watching the distant sunset with a thousand-yard stare.

 

Segment 37: Regroup, Reorganize, Redo

From their elevated position on top of the mountain, Jon Avalon watched as fresh reinforcements from out of Drekis’ lair swelled the number of their legions as twilight slowly gave way to nightfall. 

To his satisfaction, Deimos found that the reinforcements more than made up for the losses they’d suffered during the battles of Sevarian City and Xaelon – they’d swelled the ranks of their legions. “Yes, this will do just fine,” Deimos remarked, examining a fresh batch of Tanker Beasts.

“The Deminites are replaceable, but the Discordant Scions? Not so much,” Jon added as he glanced down at where the Discordant Scions had made camp – the fanatical cultists and agents of Drekis who served as secondary commanders for the Drekis legions under the Magisters. Jon could see from his position that there were significantly less campfires now compared to after their siege of Sevarian City.

“The Scions are a relic from an earlier phase in our Archon’s campaign, when he required their services to build his power base in the shadows,” Deimos replied, folding his arms over his chest. “Now that His Eminence has discarded the cloak and dagger for the hammer, the time has come to cull the weak.”

“Heh, I have no illusions that any of this can be accomplished without sacrifice,” Avalon commented with a slow nod of his head, “Only the worthy can get to be part of the new world our Archon has envisioned.”

“Yes… and the weather appears to be on our side,” Deimos abruptly changed the subject as he watched the rolling storm clouds that obscured the final rays of the sunset, “Perhaps tonight will be when we will be able to finish the current phase of this campaign.”

“If – no, when we are successful,” Jon chorused, “Xaelis will fall, and our fellow Magisters will be able to commence their respective campaigns.”

“I have little doubt that over the last few days we have worn down Xaelis’ defenses by a significant degree,” Deimos commented, resting his chin against the back of his right hand. “But the Inner City remains well-guarded, how do we go about attacking Xaelis without incurring the same losses we did during our last siege of Xaelis?”

“I think I have a plan,” A cruel smirk crossed Jon’s face. “I propose a pincer attack. Your legion will advance from the South just as you always had over the past week, but in the meantime, I will lead my legion to circle around and attack from the North. I have every reason to suspect that the Khazanians will attempt one last defensive assault on your troops as you lead them across the Falcon River, so you’d better prepare for that.”

“They took quite a beating in the morning, what makes you so certain they’d try that?” Deimos wondered.

“If there’s one thing to be learned from our past clashes with the Khazanians, it’s that their tenacity know no bounds,” Jon replied matter-of-factly, “It would be perfectly in-character of them to throw men at your troops to slow down your advance, so that they can buy Xaelis more time to shore up its defenses. But I’ll see to it they don’t get that chance.”

Deimos smirked, “You talk big, Avalon… But how do you intend to pull that off?”

A cabal of Phantom Sorcerers materialised before Deimos and Avalon, projecting a lifelike map of Xaelis. “During the last siege I had Phantom Sorcerers scry the city’s layout, and from there I learned that Xaelis is defended by a battery of heavy artillery positioned around its fortifications. There are twenty of these heavy guns as well as no less than seven long-ranged energy weapon platforms; these pose the greatest threat to our forces,” Jon said as he pointed to the Gungnir mega-howitzers and the Laevatein particle beam cannons.

“Surely you remember how our attempts to disable the big guns went? Air strikes from Ptera-Deminites and counter-battery fire by the Deminite Gunners achieved nothing due to the force field protecting them,” The blue-haired Magister remarked.

“I remember those,” Deimos nodded, a hint of a scowl forming on his otherwise impassive countenance. “They proved to be a thorn in our side throughout the entire battle.”

“See, this force field isn’t generated by technological means but magical ones,” Avalon explained. “The Sentinels assembled a cabal of wizards, sorcerers and other masters of the mystic arts to pool their power together to form this shield. I intend to get around this issue in three stages,” He held up his gauntleted hand to make a number 3 gesture. “Firstly, we will need to take out their mystic masters and create chaos within the Inner City. For this task, I will be sending in the Arachnis Queens.”

“Arachnis Queens? You of all people should know how valuable they are,” Deimos interjected. “Are you sure you want to deploy them so early in your campaign?”

“I don’t see a reason not to,” Jon replied with a low, chilling laugh. “They are perfect for this task; we can bypass the Inner City’s walls by tunnelling right under its foundations; and Deminites, Reptillions and other infantry-class minions can pop right in the middle of the city using the Arachnis Queens’ tunnels. This will be the ultimate surprise for their mages and soldiers. For the next stage of the operation, I will deploy the Tanker Beasts.”

“Talk about overkill,” Deimos gave an icy chuckle.

“No such thing as overkill as long as it gets the work done,” Avalon retorted. “Once we disable the force field protecting their long-ranged weapons by taking out the mages maintaining the barrier, I will destroy them using counter-battery fire from the Deminite Gunners. This will be the cue for you to lead your legion in an all-out charge from the South, break through their outer defenses and breach the Inner City’s walls. For the final phase, I will lead my legion from the North to charge in as well. The Khazanians’ remaining defenses will be stretched too thin at that point to mount an effective counterattack.”

In a rare out-of-character moment for Deimos, the dark-armoured Magister threw his head back, braying with unrestrained laughter, his eyes aglow with bloodlust, “And that will be the moment when Xaelis falls, and the horror of truth consumes their souls!”

 

Segment 38: A Lunch Meeting

At an outlet of Crazy Mack’s situated in the Commercial Sector, Raea sipped her caffe latte as Tim and Telissa waited for their meals to arrive as the trio met for – depending on one’s perspective – a late lunch or early dinner. It was currently drizzling, the raindrops making a rhythmic pitter-patter on the waterproofed canvas canopy of its alfresco dining section, and around them, civilians were either opening their umbrellas or making a run for the nearest shelter.

“It’s a good thing we got here before the weather turned bad!” Tim remarked, scrolling down his phone’s screen to check on the status of his food order.

“For a world as advanced as Khazan, I’m surprised that the capital city of its most prosperous and powerful nation doesn’t have at least some kind of weather control system or a protective shield for bad weather,” Telissa remarked – the female Seeker’s uniform was still left to dry with the laundry at Tim’s home, so on Shinestar’s recommendation she’d borrowed one of Raea’s spare outfits from the swordsman’s apartment, currently sporting a sleeveless light pink blouse, capri-length skinny jeans and a cream-coloured cardigan tied around her waist; she still kept the boots from her Seeker uniform, which contrasted starkly with the rest of the outfit.

Despite the mismatch, Tim had to admit it looked pretty good on Telissa, as it accentuated the curves on her slender but athletically-toned figure, and he found himself repeatedly stealing glances at the blonde.

“Well, some people like this kind of weather,” Raea interjected as she finished her coffee, the redhead currently clad in a light yellow sundress with a bolero-styled shrug worn over it made from a light, airy fabric in a warm shade of orange and a pair of sandals. “It wouldn’t be right to deprive them of their right to enjoy said weather.” True to Raea’s statement, many people continued to stroll under the light rain at a leisurely pace, unfazed by the weather.

There was a certain patronising undercurrent in Raea’s voice as she spoke to Telissa, which had not gone unnoticed by the blonde, despite having only been acquainted with the redhead for a week. The patronising tone of voice, the occasional passive-aggressive body language – they were rather salient cues Raea only tolerated Telissa on Tim’s account. And the fact that the blonde was wearing one of Raea’s outfits probably didn’t help matters any.

“Y’know, Ms. Shalhalla, if my presence bothers you I’ll just leave you and Mr. Shinestar to your own devices,” Telissa remarked, not wanting to make herself the third wheel.

“Oh no, of course not… I am many things, but a poor host is not one of them,” Raea replied, a forced smile on her face. “Surely you’re not going to just walk away after I’ve so graciously footed the bill for all three of us?” She tried to sound friendly, but the passive-aggressive undercurrent was unmistakable. Deep inside Raea resented any young, attractive female getting between herself and Tim – even if the young swordsman had stated that his friendship with Telissa was purely platonic. 

“You humans are weird,” Telissa sighed and shook her head. “If you’re uneasy with me being around, why would you foot my part of the bill? Could’ve just asked me to pay my own share.”

“It’s called Sacred Hospitality, you should look that up,” Raea replied with a smile; however, it was clear to Telissa that the redhead was wearing a ‘zero yen’ smile devoid of any warmth or sincerity.

Sensing the tension brewing between the two young women, Tim stepped in to change the topic, “Say, Raea… I have a question for you?”

“Yes, Tim?” Raea replied, her tone taking on a complete about-turn as she addressed Timothy, her smile changing from zero yen to million dollar in a heartbeat.

“With all the fighting that’s happening in the west, is the SLJ going to give you a new assignment?” The silver-haired young man wondered.

Raea frowned as she rested her hands on the table, steepling her fingers. “You think I might get involved on the Xaelis front? You know me, Tim. As a Sentinel, it’s a given that I’m going to be involved in some capacity. I just don’t know when the leadership will issue me a new assignment, or what it entails.” 

“I… I figured as much,” Tim replied, a downcast look on his face. A server brought their orders to the table; a cheesesteak sub, minestrone soup and iced peach tea for Timothy, a diet soda, garden salad and bacon cheeseburger for Telissa, while Raea had mineral water, beetroot salad and a salmon teriyaki sub. “I saw President Pharis’ televised speech this morning, the Prime Senate passed a bill for full-scale mobilisation of the Khazan Armed Forces, Mobile Police and SLJ. They’ll be incrementally mobilising their forces over the following days.”

“And as soon as we figure out Drekis’ whereabouts,” Telissa added, tossing her salad with a fork to mix the vegetables evenly with the dressing and grated parmesan cheese.

Raea studied Tim’s glum expression, “The look on your face tells me you’re unhappy about being left out of this.”

“Whoa, what?” Tim almost aspirated his drink, “What makes you say that?”

“Think you can hide anything from me?” Raea laughed, “I know you all too well, Shinestar. Besides fighting in the FPL, you’ve also wanted to become a Sentinel too. Remember when we used to play ‘Sentinel and Marauder’ together?” The redhead grinned as she spoke in a mimicry of Tim’s voice as a ten-year old, “I’m the mighty Maxx Crush! Peace is my stage and justice is my song! Now feel the wrath of my Crusher Arm, evildoer! KAPOW!”

 “Archons damn it, Raea!” Tim laughed nervously as he rubbed the back of his head. “Don’t embarrass me in front of others like that!” Even the normally dour Telissa couldn’t resist giggling, which only added to Tim’s embarrassment.

“Anyway, Ms. Ravan, you appear to know a good deal about Drekis,” Raea changed the subject as she put on a more serious tone. “Would you mind sharing what you know about him?”

“Well, that’s quite a twist,” Telissa noticed the lack of passive aggression on Raea’s voice this time round as she took a sip of diet soda. “No problem, but it’s complicated, I tell you.”

“How so?” Tim and Raea queried in unison.

“See, outside of the obvious fact that Drekis is the scourge of every civilised world in the galaxy, for almost everything else I am constantly second-guessing myself,” Telissa replied, her brows raising in anger at the mention of Drekis. “The GDF has gathered a lot of information about Drekis over the centuries, but we have a hard time deciphering facts and fiction.”

“One way or another, surely the Sentinels could use whatever you can offer them,” Raea commented, taking a forkful of beetroot salad.

“If you say so, then,” Telissa said, pausing to take a bite of her bacon cheeseburger before continuing, “The most widely agreed-upon lore about Drekis comes from an ancient record in the Galactic Archives titled ‘The Ashlean Chronicles’. To sum it up, tens, maybe hundreds of thousands of years ago there existed a precursor civilisation known as Ashlea. They were said to be highly-advanced, and evolved much faster than most other species; at the height of their power, they were said to be capable of creating new planes of existence.”

“Okay… And what happened next?” Tim asked with all the excitement of a child waiting for the newest episode of their favourite cartoon to air.

“Same thing that happens to anyone with too much power… they got drunk on it,” Telissa continued, pausing to have a forkful of garden salad, “In their hubris and greed, the Ashleans saw themselves as gods made flesh, and strived to ‘perfect’ the universe by remaking it in their own image. That marked the beginning of the end for their once-proud civilisation; their attitude made them enemies everywhere, both within and without. Powerful as they were, not even they could stand against the entire universe rallying against them.”

“It was a slow and agonising decline that took place over a course of centuries, even millennia – faced with disastrous military campaigns outside and constant insurrections and political unrest at home, more than half of the Ashlean civilisation lay in ruins, their culture a broken shell of its former self,” Telissa continued to narrate as Tim and Raea listened attentively, forgetting about their food at this point. “Far from learning a lesson in humility, the leaders of Ashlea doubled down on their god-complex and turned to experimenting with forbidden knowledge, culminating in something known as the ‘Forced Apotheosis Project’. It was a last ditch effort to revitalise their dying culture, by forcefully ascending their species from metaphorical to literal godhood.”

“That sounds… scary,” Raea quipped.

“Oh it gets worse, trust me,” Telissa replied, “It’s theorised that Drekis was the final product of the Forced Apotheosis Project’s many brutal and inhumane experiments, created as a living weapon of divine retribution to be unleashed against Ashlea’s foes. But Drekis ultimately proved to be the Ashleans’ own undoing as he evolved beyond his creators’ ability to control him – after the last of the Ashlean civilisation was destroyed, Drekis would periodically resurface to bring carnage and chaos across the galaxies. Why? I have no idea… but theories abound that it might be some kind of conflict within his protocol – he turned on his creators, but part of him remains compelled to carry out his original ‘programming’, I guess.”

“Maybe he didn’t like the way his creators treated him, even though their plans made perfect sense to him?” Raea chimed in with her own speculations before turning her attention back to her food.

“That’s a possibility; but like I said, galactic scholars have been exchanging theories about Drekis for thousands of years now,” The blonde replied, “His methods have earned him numerous nicknames like ‘The Overfiend’ and ‘The Supreme Embodiment of Evil’, just to name a few. I’m not sure what he is though, these accounts are so ancient, scholars in the modern era have a hard time telling apart which are historical records and which are myths.”

“Why’s that so?” Raea inquired. 

“See, calling the ‘Ashlean Chronicles’ a book is something of a misnomer,” Telissa explained. “It’s not a cohesive record written by a single author, but a compilation of texts written by dozens of authors over the course of many centuries.”

“Well, one thing is certain,” Tim added, “He’s an absolute bastard. I hope he joins the likes of Quietus in hell.”

“Hell yeah, now you’re talking my language,” Telissa grinned ominously, and for a moment Tim thought the blonde’s canines became sharper – only to realise it was a figment of his imagination. “I mean, the eggheads can speculate and exchange all the theories they want, but the only thing I’m interested in theorising about is how many blades and how much firepower does it take to bring that archfiend down.”

The trio’s conversation was interrupted by panicked screams, followed by a sonic boom thundering through the air above them. Outside, they spotted the crowds stopping their activities to look up into the sky, some pointing, some recording on their phones, but almost all of them muttering anxiously about something.

Raea, Timothy and Telissa stepped out from under the canopy just in time to spot a dozen insectoid or arthropod-like silhouettes streaking through the sky at supersonic – possibly even hypersonic – speed, vanishing over the horizon as seconds later, another sonic boom ripped through the air, this time coming from a squadron of Peregrine jet fighters from the Khazanian Air Force flying in hot pursuit, having been scrambled in response to air defense warning systems detection an intrusion of Khazan Prime’s airspace.

“What in the Powers That Be are those things!?” Tim gasped.

“I do not like the looks of these things,” Raea chorused.

Telissa stood transfixed by what she saw, momentarily stunned into silence. “They are what the GDF calls Bio-Fighters; they’re a breed of Drekis biomechanoids – living starfighters that perform equally well in space and within atmospheres. I shouldn’t be surprised that Drekis’ hives are able to spawn those devils at this point.”

“Biomechanoids? Living starfighters?” A puzzled Tim asked, “Where are they headed?”

“They’re heading west, so isn’t it obvious?” Raea replied in a grim tone. “They're travelling in the direction of Xaelis.”

 

Segment 39: Reinforcements For Xaelis

Uberman stared into the night sky one last time, clouds hung low as strong winds blew, carrying the faint scent of Thenesiea’s sea breeze. True to the weather forecast, a dense fog rolled in from the east and covered much of the Greater Xaelis Region in its white shroud. As Uberman stepped into the operations command centre – filled with computer terminals and monitors, he could Xaelis mustering its defenses on the screens; Armed Forces regulars and militia alike patrolled the tops of the Inner City wall, while Ranger recon teams sent their video feeds as they took positions across the terrain to keep an eye on enemy movements.

The anticipation that Drekis’ legions would launch another all-out attack on Xaelis added paranoia fuel to the flames of fear – everyone knew it was a matter of time before they struck, but when? The looming dread was enough to make one feel sick to the stomach.

“Lieutenant, where’s Scout?” Uberman asked as he noticed Scout’s absence inside the operations command centre, and made a beeline to the comms officer in charge of coordinating the operators – a bespectacled woman in her late-20’s with shoulder-length black hair pulled back in a tight ponytail.

“Colonel Freebird led a division to make another defensive assault upon the enemy at banks of the Falcon River,” The female soldier replied, adjusting her glasses.

“Thank you,” Uberman walked away from the lieutenant’s workstation before resting a gauntleted hand on his head and groaning faintly. “Verdammnt, he did the very thing I advised him not to…” Both Uberman and the Colonel knew the risks involved and had debated on the issue several hours ago; both were well aware of the losses they could incur in such a risky operation, but Scout reasoned that it was the only way to buy Xaelis time to shore up its defenses and to get more ‘shoot and scoot’ artillery units into position to thin out their numbers as they advance towards Xaelis.

By Uberman’s reckoning, it was an unwise gamble – Scout had deployed most of the Ranger corps, mechanised infantry and armoured division for his operation, which left the city dangerously vulnerable. As it currently stands, the city was now relying chiefly on the static defenses on the inner walls, the Mobile Police and teams of Sentinels and freelance heroes.

As Uberman stepped outdoors, Captain Khazan swooped down from the skies to meet the Sentinels leader in the middle of the command base’s parade square; the Captain’s body bore signs of recent battles taking a toll on even his superhuman durability, but his resolve remained unshaken and his will unbowed as he approached Uberman with a bright smile.

“You look to be in a good mood, Trent,” Uberman remarked. “Have you brought good news?”

“You bet, sir!” Captain Khazan replied in a jubilant tone as he slammed his right fist into his left palm to make a hearty smack. “Remember the reinforcement package we talked about earlier that Elwin managed to get approved ahead of the Prime Senate? Guess what? They’re arriving sooner than we expected!” 

If Uberman had eyes, they would’ve widened, but instead his optics flashed, lighting up the inside of his visor with a bright glow. “Really? That’s excellent!” The cyborg remarked as he patched his comms into the Operation Pavise global channel. Over the various radio chatter from the operators, he could make out specific lines about airships being inbound, and IFF confirming them to be the Khazan Armed Forces’ own airships.

It didn’t take long for said airships to loom into view as their searchlights cut through the dark of the night skies as ten Hermes-class utility transports under the escort of two Valkyrie-class battleships descended, the clouds parting under the thrust of their powerful repulsors as they charted a course towards the military airstrips.

“Contact the Sentinels mystics to temporarily lower the shields,” Uberman radioed to the operations command centre.

As soon as the protective barrier over the Inner City was lowered, the Hermes touched down at the airfield and lowered their alighting ramps. From inside the airships’ holds, tanks, IFVs, APCs, and other armoured units and artillery pieces rolled out. Fresh reinforcements of soldiers and Khazan Rangers followed next, marching down the ramps to assemble as officers and senior NCOs took headcounts of the military personnel; while logistics teams and labour droids boarded the airships’ holds to unload fresh stocks of ammunition, armaments, and other supplies, ready to be distributed to be where they would be needed most.

“Uberman, look above you,” Captain Khazan remarked as he pointed to the Valkyrie escorts up in the air, as two figures jumped off the deck of one of the airships, distant specks at first, but quickly loomed into view as they descended.

“Well I’ll be…” Uberman murmured as the first to touch down was his fellow Sentinel and councilman Supercomrade, instantly recognisable by his customised Red Army uniform and ushanka. But what truly astonished the cyborg was the second figure who landed after the burly Russo-Ukrainian. 

“Salutations, Uberman and Captain Khazan,” Tanin greeted the cyborg and the caped crusader with a radiant smile as he stepped forward, his long chestnut-coloured hair swaying in the wind and looking magnificent in his ornate mithril armour; despite his youthful appearance, his eyes radiated a timeless, sagacious wisdom that betrayed his actual age. 

“Tanin?” Uberman asked, surprised to see the Archon of Light, the legendary Dragoon T. 

“Aye, the one and only! My, so much has changed since,” Tanin remarked as he shook hands with Captain Khazan and Uberman. “Elwin’s all grown up and a mother of two, and you’re now heading the SLJ Council… not to mention all the new faces within the Sentinels too,” The Archon of Light paused a beat to look at Captain Khazan and Supercomrade. “I have so much catching up to do!” Tanin gave a hearty chuckle as he gave Uberman a friendly pat. 

“I’d be happy to catch up with you under less pressing circumstances, but right now, business first,” The cyborg replied. “So, even the Archon of Light is getting involved?”

Tanin folded his arms and laughed confidently, “As Dragoon T, it’s true that I hold back my full power when dealing with Khazan’s garden variety villains and scumbags. However, since it’s a special request from Elwin, I’ve come to help clean up this mess not as Dragoon T, but as Tanin, the Archon of Light.”

“Really?” Captain Khazan chimed in. “Don't Powers That Be such as yourself operate under a non-interference policy? Like, you Archons are supposed to play a role of neutral observers in Khazan, and only mediate when absolutely necessary.”

“How astute!” Tanin remarked, his hands making dramatic gestures as he spoke, “Yes, in this regard you are largely correct, my dear Mr. Young.”

“Well, he sure has a flair for the dramatic, even Vincentzo would’ve met his march with this guy,” Supercomrade commented on Tanin’s hammy style of speech and exaggerated body language.

“You’ll get used to it… Or not,” Uberman leaned over to whisper his reply, “That’s probably the other reason he walks the path of a wandering knight-errant rather than serving any hero institution.”

“But aye, under ‘normal’ circumstances I would be a neutral observer,” Tanin continued, before raising his right index finger, “However, it has been divined that Drekis is a threat that is of a similar nature to us Archons; as such it’s deemed necessary for me to act with the full Authority of one.”

“We could certainly use all the help we can get,” Uberman nodded, “If luck is on our side, Xaelis should be able to survive this night.”

“Luck? Oh ye of little faith!” Tanin ribbed in response, his hand resting upon the hilt of his trusty greatsword, Chrysilium, which sported intricate draconic motifs and gem inlays. “I will fight alongside you to vanquish this demon army… though truth be told, I’d rather gun straight for Drekis himself than to go through his cannon fodder.”

“It seems Drekis has no discernible plans beyond causing as much havoc and destruction as possible,” Captain Khazan added. “If left unchecked, they overrun the entire continent – possibly the entire planet – unless he’s stopped.”

“Well, I’ll halt his ambitions for Xaelon for starters and then work my way up from there,” Tanin remarked, doing some stretching exercises, “It sure feels great to be back in action again!” The Archon looked around, and quickly noticed Scout’s absence. 

“Oh, and one more thing,” Tanin continued, “I noticed that Scout and most of the Khazan Rangers aren’t around… Any idea where they went?”

“He led a division to the south to stage another defensive assault in an attempt to slow the advance of the Drekis legions,” Uberman replied, “I think we should be hearing from him in about an hour from now. You should brace yourself for battle, it’s likely we won’t have much longer before the enemy reaches Xaelis’ outskirts.”

 

Segment 40: Indefensible

Dense fog blanketed the Sevarian Valley, reducing visibility to no more than ten metres using the naked eye. But Scout knew he and his men were nearing the Falcon River rapids from the sound of rushing water. “All units, be on high alert, this is dangerous territory right now,” Scout spoke into his comms earpiece. The terrain bordering the banks of the Falcon River in this region consisted largely of flat to gently sloping ground, with sparse pockets of woodland and occasional rock formations; the openness left the troops dangerously exposed, which was the Colonel’s main concern. 

“Roger that,” Rangers and infantry moved cautiously, using whatever sparse concealment they could find and sticking close to the armoured vehicles for cover. With naked eye visibility as poor as it is, they relied on optical enhancements such as thermal scopes and helmet-mounted infrared sensors, showing potential enemy heat signatures in the corner of their visors’ AR displays.

One of the Rangers in the advance scout unit noticed his infrared pick up a heat signature, and realised too late that it wasn’t a body, but a Deminite fire blast; the incendiary projectile pierced through the fog and struck the unfortunate Ranger dead-on, who screamed his last and collapsed as hellfire consumed him. 

“Sir, enemy contact! Ranger down!” The squad leader of the advance scout unit radioed back.

“All units, spread out!” Scout shouted over the global comms, making a gesture for the Rangers to fan out. 

The Rangers fanned out, taking cover where possible and lying prone in tall grass for concealment where cover was lacking as they returned fire. They made out the sounds of monsters in their death throes above the noise of the river rapids, but also heard the sound of splashing water, as if thousands of bodies were wading across the river.

‘Don’t tell me they’ve been holding positions on the opposite bank of the Falcon River to wait for our arrival?’ Scout thought, before barking orders into the comms, “All units, fire at will! Charlie, Delta and Echo companies, bring armour and IFV support to the front, now!”

Tanks, of both tracked and hovercraft types moved forward along with IFVs to provide fire support as they concentrated fire on the opposite bank of the Falcon River, unleashing a fusillade of kinetic rounds, explosive ordnance and energy beams. As the vehicles’ powerful headlights cut through the fog, the soldiers were treated to the sight of hundreds of demons effortlessly wading through the river rapids’ raging waters.

The churning white-water was quickly coloured black from the ichor of countless demonic thralls as the Khazanians laid down tremendous firepower on the incoming horde, their guns unleashing a blizzard of steel; for minutes, the barrage was near-continuous as Deminites and other minions perished by the score, like meat being fed into a meat-grinder, their mangled remains swept downstream by the raging currents.

But the beasts pushed on, fuelled by otherworldly rage and bloodthirst, their hellish cries growing louder and more shrill as they quickened their pace and drew ever closer to the opposite bank, eager to spill blood and sink their claws into warm flesh. More bodies were thrown against the Khazanian meat-grinder in an attempt to jam its gears, and eventually the first sets of feet found dry land. 

“This is it!” Scout’s voice crackled over the comms. “All units, hold your positions for as long as you can!”

Hive Guards joined the fray, cutting through entire squads with their devastating optic blasts; with a chorus of deafening roars, the elite minions projected their auras, augmenting the lesser minions as Reptillions, Deminite Soldiers and Reavers dashed past them, their eyes glowing red as blood and wisps of black smoke emitting from their bodies under the Hive Guards’ empowerment. 

They descended upon the first line of soldiers in an orgy of gore and violence, tearing through body armour and sending the unfortunate defenders’ limbs flying and entrails splattering everywhere as the Drekis hordes answered the Khazanian meat-grinder with a meat-grinder of their own.

The next line of Rangers, infantry soldiers and armoured vehicles avenged their comrades by returning the Drekis Legion’s brutality with more brutality of their own as a fusillade of small arms fire, heavy weapons, explosive ordnance, laser beams and pulsed plasma made mincemeat out of the demons, but they were caught off-guard by squadrons of Ptera-Deminites soaring overhead to rain ball lightning down on them.

Drekis minions of all shapes and sizes threw themselves into the fray; many died as soon as they made eye contact with the Khazanians, but some managed to find victims. Massed hordes of Deminite Soldiers and circling Ptera-Deminites sent volleys of hellfire blasts and ball lightning into the Khazanians’ ranks, spearing through their formation and slaying dozens in a matter of seconds. 

Scout felt his bile rising at the carnage unfolding around him. These soldiers and Rangers were good men and women – patriots who left their homes, families and dreams behind to defend their beloved Khazan – some of them were war buddies who had served alongside Scout at various points in his long, illustrious career; others were promising young talents whom he’d personally trained in Ranger Cadet School. None of that mattered to the monsters as they slaughtered these brave fighters like cattle and then callously cast aside their bodies like refuse, evoking a tide of anger in Scout.

A towering Devonox lumbered towards the front line, shrugging off the small-arms fire pelting its crimson hide as it swept aside armed soldiers like discarded action figures as it made a beeline for the armoured vehicles. A Caracal-series hover IFV opened fire as the ogre-like minion advanced, its turret-mounted autolaser and coaxial heavy machine gun tearing through its hide and carving up its flesh.

But possessing a hellish resilience and single-minded determination, the wounded beast raised its massive arms – thick as tree trunks – and crushed the turret with a powerful two-fisted slam, before flipping it upside-down and continuing to pummel away at it, the behemoth’s fists hitting with the force of a pair of wrecking balls, smashing craters into its hull. 

A Lynx-series main battle tank rolled forward and fired its main gun, sending a 150 mm armour-piercing discarding sabot round downrange at near-hypersonic speed that tore right through the Devonox’s shoulder, causing it to bellow in pain. Even with such grievous wounds, the juggernaut of a minion grabbed the overturned Caracal with its good arm and swung it around like a makeshift flail, smashing it against the Lynx with such force that the 60+ ton tank nearly overturned.

Heavy weapon squads outfitted with suits of powered armour swarmed the Devonox, concentrating fire from chainguns, rocket launchers, gauss rifles and heavy particle-beam guns. The behemoth let loose a terrifying dying roar as it finally succumbed to the soldiers’ fusillade, but the damage had already been done as the havoc wreaked by the Devonox allowed the lighter but more numerous minions such as Deminite Soldiers, Reptillions and Reavers to move in for close quarters combat.

As the Khazanians’ line began to falter, Scout found himself now caught in the thick of the fighting as a Deminite Soldier leapt for him. The Colonel sidestepped a scything blow from its claws and countered with a powerful right hook, punching the demonic thrall clean in the jaw with his cybernetic arm and knocking it onto its side. The beast made a low, rumbling growl, flashing a slasher smile as it picked itself up from the ground – only to find itself staring down the barrel of Scout’s sidearm.

The pupils of the Deminite’s eyes narrowed into cross-shaped slits as Scout pulled the trigger of his H&K Mk. 23 twice, putting two successive .45 ACP rounds into the beast’s skull. Nearby, a Reptillion slew a Khazan Ranger as it first ran its sword through the hapless soldier’s midsection, before ripping the blade out and finishing with a fatal chop to the neck. The Colonel swiftly avenged his subordinate as he set the crosshairs of his Ranger Repeater’s scope on the lizardman’s head, sending a bolt clean through the Reptillion’s eye as it turned in Scout’s direction.

Through a combination of honed instincts, impeccable skill and experience, Scout wielded his Ranger Repeater with deadly effect, acquiring and sniping targets with speed, efficiency and precision that appeared almost machine-like as he racked up a crossbow kill streak in a matter of seconds, intermittently switching to his sidearm on the occasion one of the demons managed to get within CQB range. 

As Scout scanned around for new targets, he would notice a giant tongue of flame lashing towards him from the edge of his peripheral vision. The Colonel’s combat-hardened reflexes kicked in as he rolled out of the path of the infernal attack as it carved a molten fissure through the ground. Rising to his feet, he caught sight of a tall, dark-haired man dressed in an ornamental set of battle armour in a shade of red so dark it looked black, with bronze accents and glowing orange highlights that resembled rivulets of lava.

Deimos raised an eyebrow as he slowly walked towards Scout, his cape and long hair swaying in the supernatural breeze that always seemed to accompany him. “Interesting, to think an unpowered human like yourself could dodge a strike from my Phobos? Looks like I underestimated you,” The Magister remarked in a flat voice as he lifted his hellfire sword known as Phobos.

“You must be the commander of this legion then; just right for a checkmate!” Scout retorted as he raised his Ranger Repeater with the practiced reflexes of a veteran of hundreds of battles, his muscle memory acting faster than his conscious mind as he acquired Deimos’ head as his next target.

“Checkmate? You are mistaken, human; you are the one being checkmated,” Deimos remarked coldly as his eyes met Scout’s, and a deathly red light flashed from the Drekis general’s irises.

“Ugh! Just what the hell is this!?” Scout exclaimed, staggering as his field of vision was enveloped within a scarlet haze and the sounds of battle around him became garbled. Within seconds, the veil was lifted from his vision and his hearing returned, but the veteran Ranger found himself no longer at the banks of the Falcon River. Instead he found himself reliving scenes from his past.

Scout’s emotions raged out of control as fear, anxiety and survivor’s guilt threatened to overwhelm him as scenes of past traumas and old regrets came back to haunt him like vengeful spirits, blending together to create a nightmarish mindscape that overtook his perception of the physical world and sense of reality. “No! NO!!” Scout clutched at his head. “Stop this! Get out of my head!”

Deimos snickered as he continued his slow, methodical advance towards the reeling Ranger, “Yes, feel the horror… Let it overtake you,” The Magister gave a frigid smirk as he held Phobos aloft, ready to deliver the coup de grace. “Let me put you out of your misery…” Fuelled by Scout’s fears, Phobos received a power up as its flames turned from orange to a ghostly blue as Deimos prepared to finish Scout off with a single stroke.

With an almost animalistic roar, Scout summoned every ounce of willpower to snap back to reality, the hallucinations dissolving into nothingness just in time to notice Deimos taking a swing at him. The Colonel dived for the ground as Deimos’ hellfire blade whizzed past where his neck had been a fraction of a second ago. “Not bad for a human,” Deimos commented in an emotionless voice as Phobos’ flames returned to their regular state.

Scout rolled across the dirt and raised himself into a half-kneel and let fly his first crossbow bolt, piercing through Deimos’ breastplate and burying itself up to its fletching in the Magister’s chest, causing him to stagger. Scout fired one bolt after another from his Ranger Repeater, hitting Deimos in his right shoulder, abdomen, and one more in the chest, causing him to double over. 

Before Scout could wonder if he’d gotten the enemy commander, Deimos stood tall once more, examining his wounds with morbid curiosity as he pulled one of the crossbow bolts out of his body before nonchalantly dropping it. “Foolish human…” Deimos continued his advance towards Scout as the Colonel backed away. “...You cannot kill fear itself…” The Drekis general taunted, his body forcing out the foreign objects as his wounds knitted themselves back together.

Explosions from rockets, mortar and grenades went off around them, creating a thick pall of smoke that blended with the fog. With a deft wave of Phobos, Deimos swept away the obstruction to his line of sight and continued to advance towards Scout with the persistence of a slasher movie villain. The Colonel threw himself to the ground and rolled to avoid another strike from the Drekis general’s hellish weapon, lying on his back as he raised his Ranger Repeater to fire.

The duel between Deimos and Scout was interrupted by a gauss rifle shot from out of the blue, as a magnetically-accelerated slug punched straight through Deimos’ chest, leaving behind a fist-sized hole in what was once his left lung. A fireteam of Rangers moved in with DMRs and light machine guns, unleashing a fusillade of automatic gunfire on the Magister. The rain of bullets killed nearby Deminites and tore into Deimos’ body, causing him to jerk like a puppet with cut strings as the Rangers sustained their barrage.

Driven by an inhuman force, Deimos continued to limp forward, sword raised to strike. But before he could bring his flaming blade to bear on Scout, the fireteam’s sniper fired another shot from her gauss rifle, this time striking the shoulder of Deimos’ sword arm. Shards of armour mixed with blood and shreds of flesh and bone exploded on impact as the Drekis general’s limb went flying alongside his weapon. After taking another fusillade of automatic gunfire, Deimos finally collapsed, crumpling onto his knees before slumping face-down near Scout.

“By the Archons, what the hell…?” Scout muttered as he inched cautiously towards the fallen Deimos. There was something unnatural, something wrong with the way that he was able to fight despite soaking up enough firepower to kill any human – and a significant number of metahumans for that matter – several times over. The Colonel gingerly reached out to give the body a cursory prod, to check for any signs of life.

Scout barely had time to yell as Deimos lifted his head to glare back at him, and with an unnatural swiftness his remaining arm shot out to seize the veteran Ranger by the neck. “Ugh!” Scout grunted as he tried to pry the fingers loose, but despite the catastrophic damage to his body, Deimos’ grip remained inhumanly strong.

“You cannot kill… fear itself…” Deimos rasped as his grip tightened, choking Scout who struggled futilely against his vice grip.

With his breath running out and his consciousness fast fading, Scout managed to tug his sidearm free from his holster and repeatedly fired his Mk. 23 point-blank into Deimos’ face, pulling the trigger until the magazine was expended. By the time he was done, all that was left of the Magister’s head was his neck and lower jaw, his grip finally slackening. The Colonel rubbed his neck and gasped for breath as what’s left of Deimos’ face slumped into a puddle of blood and splattered brains, the glowing highlights of his armour becoming inert as if somehow tied to the Drekis general’s own lifeforce.  

A grizzled-looking veteran Ranger, scar-faced and buzz-cut, reached down and took Scout’s hand in a firm grip to help the Colonel back onto his feet. “Major Samuel Rourke reporting. What are your orders now, sir?” The Major asked.

Meanwhile, another Ranger from Rourke’s fireteam stepped up to Deimos’ body and emptied another entire magazine’s worth of .45 ACP rounds from his sidearm into the fallen Magister, before kicking the body to flip it onto its back and then drove his machete through the chest for good measure.

“We’ve done all we can here,” Scout tapped on his comms earpiece. “Attention all units, fall back! I repeat, all units, fall back!” The Colonel relayed his orders over the comms channel.

On receiving Scout’s orders, the troops carried out a tactical retreat as they moved back towards their transports in an orderly fashion and at a steady pace, while sporadically laying down bursts of suppressive fire at the enemy, while the remaining IFVs and tanks covered their retreat with heavy firepower, sending volleys of heavy armour-piercing rounds, explosive ordnance and energy beams into the monster’s formation.

“The injured get top priority! Ensure that no-one gets left behind!” Scout ordered as the injured soldiers and Rangers were the first to get on board the Armadillo-series APCs and transport trucks, while those in critical condition were aerially evacuated by Hymenopteras.

“Orion and Pegasus companies, all units are evacuating, commence saturation bombardment!” As the last of the surviving troops were on board transports and pulling away from the banks of the Falcon River, the order was given by Scout to artillery batteries positioned behind their lines to saturate the area with near-continuous bombardments. Self-propelled howitzers fired shells bearing plasma payloads, while MLRS trucks unleashed a rain of rocket artillery on the Drekis legions.

Scout’s division pulled out of the Sevarian Valley region, towards the village of Lyris at the edge of the Xaelis Metropolitan Area; as the Drekis legion pushed forward in their pursuit, they would be drawn into a trap laid for them at the outskirts of the rural settlement. The Z-K15 smart mines, small and stealthy, unearthed themselves and scuttled into the Drekis legions’ ranks, detonating their on-board anti-personnel munitions. In the distance, a second artillery contingent unleashed another saturation bombardment, inflicting further devastation.

On board an Armadillo that was inbound for Xaelis, Scout watched the drone footages with growing dread – the aerial surveillance showed the futility of their operation as the full size of the enemy division was revealed; Scout had thought they’d at least softened up the Drekis legion to some degree, but the drones showed that in actuality they barely made a dent.

“Uberman, Scout here,” The Colonel sent a transmission to Uberman who was left in charge of defending Xaelis proper. “Our defensive assault barely made a dent in the enemy’s numbers; you’re still in for an uphill battle… I think this is going to be the eve of Xaelis’ last stand.”

 

Segment 41: Deimos makes his move

“Who could’ve thought this was ever possible? The mighty Deimos… dead?” Several Discordant Scions accompanied by Deminites surrounded Deimos’ body as the Magister lay on his back on burnt grass, motionless. 

“I’m no longer so certain of our odds of taking Xaelis now,” One of the Scions – a bald man in indigo robes and a heavily-tattooed face – remarked in a nervous tone. The Rangers had done a number on the Magister; half of his head had been blown off, his armour ripped apart and body riddled with numerous bullet holes and missing an arm. For this particular Scion, he was certain that no-one, not even one of Drekis’ vaunted Magisters, could survive such a grievous wounding.

“Silence, Xeldian,” Another Scion, an anthropomorphic gorilla-like alien in a suit of powered armour and wielding a heavy particle beam gun clapped back at his colleague’s remark. “Statements like these are blasphemy against His Eminence, you dare say that in the presence of one of our Archon’s chosen?”

“Greer, I’m no stranger to Deimos’ regenerative powers, but not even he can come back from this!” Xeldian snapped, as he turned around to walk away. “I’m not about to share the same fate, fighting a battle I can’t win!”

It was then that the orange accents on what’s left of Deimos’ armour pulsed once more with a volcanic glow as the Magister’s body began to twitch, gently at first, then more violently. Before the Discordant Scions’ eyes, Deimos’ body began to reconstitute itself. 

Damaged organs mended themselves, broken bones reformed, and new tissue grew to replace what was lost, as Deimos rose to his feet and pulled out the machete that was impaled in his chest, even his armour was magically repaired. In a matter of a few minutes, the Magister was good as new, as if never damaged to begin with. 

“Did I hear someone say he was thinking of deserting?” Deimos remarked coldly as he summoned Phobos back into his hands, craning his neck a few times to stretch his freshly-regenerated body. 

“No, no, no! I didn’t mean any of it! Forgive me!” Xeldian exclaimed, his voice trembling in panic as the bald Scion tried to turn tail and run, but he only managed to take a few paces before the Deminite Soldiers tackled him to the ground. 

“Now, that won’t do,” Deimos replied in a deadpan voice as the Deminites dragged Xeldian back onto his feet, firmly restrained by one Deminite holding onto each of the Scion’s arms. “His Eminence remembers each and every pact made with him, and reneging on a deal is something our Archon has no tolerance for.”

“Greer,” Deimos addressed the armoured simian-like alien, “Dispose of the refuse.”

“It will be done, my lord,” Greer bowed, resting a gauntleted fist on his chest before walking towards Xeldian, who trashed and howled against his captors to no avail. The gorilla-like humanoid took hold of the bald man’s head between his massive hands, and with a sharp twist, snapped his neck like a toothpick.

Xeldian’s head hung limply from his shoulders before the Deminites dropped his motionless body onto the dirt like a sack of potatoes. “Anybody who wants out is welcome to join Xeldian here, so what do you say?” Deimos flashed an icy smirk as he addressed the other Discordant Scions.

“Lord Deimos, we stand with you to the very end; hail Drekis!” The remaining Discordant Scions replied in unison as they got down on one knee in a show of reverence. 

The Scions’ exhortations of Drekis were chorused by the roars of the Deminites as they continued their march towards Xaelis, displaying an eagerness that Deimos had not seen in a long time. 

“You know what to do, my warriors!” Deimos shouted, pointing towards Xaelis’ skyline in the distant horizon with the tip of his flaming sword. “Follow Avalon’s plan and you will celebrate your victory tonight!”

Meanwhile, Deimos continued to hold onto the machete in his other hand, the one that the Khazan Ranger had used to stab him with, eyeing the blade with morbid curiosity. “How thoughtful of the Khazanians to leave a parting gift for me,” The Magister remarked sardonically. “I’ll be sure to return it to the sender, hehe.” 

 

Segment 42: Bracing for the Storm

Inside the operations command centre, Tanin levitated above the ground in a relaxed pose, leaning back as if he were resting on a recliner with his legs crossed and his hands behind his head as Uberman gave him a run-down on the situation. “As of four hours ago, Scout led a division to the South, towards the banks of the Falcon River. The Colonel’s plan was to lead one last defensive assault against the Drekis forces to soften their numbers before they inevitably descend upon Xaelis.”

The cyborg gestured towards one of the monitors displaying a strategic map of the Greater Xaelis Region, with arrows indicating the routes taken by the units in Scout’s division, and forecasted enemy movement routes, “Scout’s strategy is to hold their ground at the North bank of the Falcon River as long as possible, and then make a fighting retreat towards the city, where the enemy will be drawn into minefields and designated artillery and air strike kill-zones to further thin out their numbers.”

The Archon of light drank his pumpkin spice latte as he examined the map, before glancing at the monitors displaying video feeds from various defensive positions across Xaelis. “Hmm, you’ve all held out admirably thus far,” He mused as he turned his gaze back to the map, “Running a rape train on them all the way to Xaelis sounds like your best bet against such overwhelming odds, but aren’t the smart mines a bit too widely-spaced compared to earlier operations?”

“Unfortunately, we’ve run short on the KOMBG-supplied explosives over the last few days of skirmishes, so we had to ration what we have left,” Uberman sighed in response. “We have incoming shipments to replenish them, but they’re not going to make it in time before the enemy reaches the city; additionally, these demons were far from the mindless brutes we initially made them out to be, we’ve noted the Z-K15’s diminishing effectiveness with each subsequent skirmish… I think they’re wising up to this particular tactic.”

Captain Khazan stepped into the operations command centre, fresh from helping the soldiers and civilian militia unload the military supplies from the airships. “That was some impeccable timing you have there with the reinforcements, Tanin,” The Captain remarked, “The troops were running dangerously low on ammo at this time, but this will ensure the Gungnirs keep firing – for this you have our thanks.” 

“Elwin would be the one taking credit for this; none of this would be possible without her leverage,” Tanin replied with a confident smile, “I’m only here to smite demons.”

“Have the supplies been distributed then?” Uberman chimed in.

“Not yet, but close,” Captain Khazan replied, “Heavy ordnance has been fully distributed, and quartermasters are currently in the process of issuing small-arms ammunition and grenades to every able body. All in all? I’d say the supplies are about 80% distributed.”

“How long would you reckon before our forces are fully-equipped for battle then?” The cyborg enquired.

“In about half an hour, give or take,” Captain Khazan nodded, “We’ll be ready for any attack.”

“Incoming transmission from Charlie Company; ID: 2nd Lieutenant Asamiya Yuki!” One of the command centre operators announced.

“She’s one of the Rangers from Scout’s division,” Uberman commented, recalling C-Coy was one of the units that participated in Scout's defensive assault, “Patch her through.”

“Yes, sir,” The operator replied. A monitor flickered and changed its display, showing a young woman in Khazan Ranger uniform, with dark brown hair pulled back in a high ponytail and mahogany eyes – she didn’t appear injured, but the sweat that slicked her face and plastered her bangs all over her forehead and the flush in her cheeks indicated exhaustion and stress. 

“Lt. Asamiya, what’s your status, anything to report on Col. Freebird’s division?” Uberman inquired with a tone of urgency. 

“Are you alright?” Captain Khazan added.

“I’m alright,” The female Ranger nodded, “The Colonel ordered my squad to take point at the Lyrisha Ridge, Northeast of Lyris. We were instructed to report back to Xaelis once the rest of his division engaged the enemy at the Falcon River.” The youthful appearance of the Lieutenant suggested that her rank was the result of graduating from the Officer Cadet Academy, rather than battlefield promotions. 

“How did the battle at Falcon River go then?” Uberman asked.

“It was a disaster,” Lt. Asamiya replied between pants and gasps. “The Colonel lost an entire platoon within the first ten minutes of engaging the enemy, and that was when he ordered me and my squad to make haste at reporting back to Xaelis; he and the rest of the division should be returning in about an hour from now.”

“And we all know what wouldn’t be far behind,” Tanin chorused.

Word spread like wildfire through Xaelis, from the glitzy uptown districts where the wealthy live, all the way to the run-down slums. Residents who hadn’t already moved out of the city locked themselves in, with the rich retreating into private bunkers underneath their palatial estates, while the poor simply boarded up their windows and barricaded their doors. Some prayed to make it through one more night, while others armed themselves with whatever they could get their hands on, determined to defend their homes and families to their last breath.

As reports about the encroachment of the Drekis legion poured in, the Khazan Armed Forces stationed in the city picked up their pace, and it wasn’t long before the arms and supplies were fully distributed. With the soldiers and Mobile Police fully equipped and ammunition stocks replenished, they took their positions, with units positioned atop the Inner City walls, while others were deployed across the outer districts.

“It’s Scout’s division, they’ve returned!” Captain Khazan exclaimed as a monitor displaying drone feeds at the outskirts of Xaelis showed a military convoy pulling up, all of them bearing varying degrees of battle damage. The two Sentinels left the operations command centre and flew to Xaelis’ outskirts to meet Scout, but upon seeing the division up close Uberman hung his head in dejection.

“What’s the matter?” Captain Khazan wondered, “Don’t you have confidence in our odds? You always told us Sentinels to never give up, no matter what.”

“That’s not it…” The cyborg emitted a hissing jet of steam from his armour’s cooling vents as the glow from his faceplate’s visor dimmed a notch. “Scout led a division of about six hundred men, he came back with only two hundred give or take… I’m not worrying about the outcome of the upcoming battle… it’s just I can’t stand to see this kind of loss and devastation be inflicted upon the people of Khazan.”

“I don’t like this any more than you do, but Khazan has seen its share of wars and catastrophes in its long history, this is nothing new,” Tanin interjected as he floated down from the sky.

“I understand,” Uberman replied, “But I feel like I was nominated to head the Sentinels Council precisely because I wanted to change this.”

“And we will,” Tanin replied in a confident tone as he reached up to pat Uberman on the back, “First things first, we hold out tonight, then we plan to strike at Drekis himself in the near-future.

By this point, what was left of Scout’s defensive assault division were given new assignments and redeployed across the city to bolster the existing defenders’ ranks, while the Colonel himself reported to Uberman to update the Sentinels leader on the situation.

“You best be prepared for one hell of a battle,” Scout remarked as he hopped off an Armadillo APC, a table in his hands. “It’s going to be a matter of minutes before the enemy is at our doorstep, see for yourselves,” The Colonel showed a real-time tactical map of the Xaelis Metropolitan Area, the drone feeds showing a grim sight of skirmishers all making fighting retreats towards Xaelis to consolidate their forces with their allies inside the city as the Drekis legions advanced inexorably.

“What happened at the Falcon River?” Uberman asked as searchlights swept the sky and sirens began to wail, warning of an imminent attack.

“The enemy’s troop strength far exceeded our initial projections,” Scout replied, replenishing his ammunition at a nearby cache of supplies. “I have every reason to suspect that they received new reinforcements ahead of our arrival there; we barely put a dent in them despite kiting them through numerous minefields and designated kill zones.”

“But how can they receive additional reinforcements so quickly?” Tanin asked, “I think their base of operations might be quite close.”

“Let’s save our theories and speculations for later; first order of business now is defending the city,” Captain Khazan interjected, as rain began to fall from the sky. The rain soon turned into a torrential downpour, which in conjunction with the fog further reduced visibility with the naked eye. “These are perfect conditions for them to stage an attack.” 

“We have to concentrate on defending the city now,” Captain Khazan added. He looked at the night sky and saw only dark clouds that continued to pour rain down upon the city. Fog covered the grassland blinded any soldier without the proper optical equipment or augmentations. “Damn, this is a perfect night for them to attack.”

A fellow Sentinel’s voice crackled over the comms in Uberman’s suit, “Uberman, this is Sentinel Andromeda Emelianenko here; we have engaged the enemy at the outskirts of Xaelis!” Even through the fog and pouring rain, Uberman and Captain Khazan could make out explosions lighting up the dark in the distance.

“Trent, with me,” Uberman addressed Captain Khazan. “We’ll back up our fellow Sentinels at the front line and then make a fighting withdrawal towards the Inner City.”

Captain Khazan nodded.

The cyborg turned to Scout and Tanin. “Tanin, you and Scout head to the Inner City and take charge of defending the walls.”

“So, you want me to stay behind the walls?” Tanin asked.

“That’s right,” Uberman nodded. “Something tells me that it’s inevitable that the enemy will reach the Inner City this time round, so our final line of defense will need to be the strongest. Alright, force fields up around those Gungnirs at full strength! All Mobile Police officers to the Inner City wall, Sentinels, with me at the frontlines!”

The Gungnir and Laevatein batteries positioned atop the Inner City walls began to fire at enemy positions at the outlying suburbs as Uberman and Captain Khazan and an assortment of Sentinels headed to reinforce the frontlines. Despite the cyborg’s grim predictions, the heroes and soldiers defending Xaelis were determined to ensure that every inch taken by the enemy will be paid for in blood.

The poor visibility brought on by the adverse weather conditions did little to affect the range and precision of the heavy artillery, as the gunner crews manning the Gungnir and Laevatein batteries possessed spotter drones, AI-assisted targeting systems, smart munitions and tactical foresight, allowing them to rain death and destruction on the enemy with stunning accuracy.

Demonic thralls perished by the hundreds, but determined as ever, they pressed on as the frontline began to make a fighting retreat from the outer districts towards the Inner City walls. Deminite Gunners unleashed counter-battery fire against the big guns, sending massive bolts of plasma racing through the sky like hellish stars, splashing against the magical shields – despite the terrifying firepower being levelled against the artillery, the shield bore the brunt of the damage.

 

Segment 43: Jon Avalon makes his move

From an elevated position to the North, just beyond the city limits of Xaelis, Jon Avalon watched the explosions at the South of Xaelis with growing excitement as the Khazan Armed Forces, Mobile Police and Sentinels engaged Deimos’ legion. “All according to plan…” Jon remarked, taking note of Deimos’ progress. At the rate things were going, he was confident tonight will be the night Xaelis fell.

“I wonder how are things going for Veronica and my girls over in Thenesiea?” The Magister mused, as he reached down to pat his mount Zegrin, imagining how Veronica’s campaign was going, and if his wife and daughters were encountering the same level of resistance in the aquatic state-kingdom.

“Magister! Just give me the word and I will paint the streets red with the Khazanians’ blood!” A booming, bass voice sounded behind Jon and Zegrin, as heavy footsteps thudded against the ground.

“Ah, my faithful Apostle has returned,” Jon smiled as his Apostle stepped forth – a nearly ten-foot tall behemoth of muscle and sinew, Avalon’s Apostle was a minotaur-like humanoid with a horned head and bovine features, but with some demonic twists to his appearance that marked him as touched by Drekis himself, notably his hands and forearms had a gnarled appearance, coloured black as coal with glowing fluorescent green veins similar to the highlights on Avalon’s armour. “Pray tell, where is my Harbinger?”

“Oh, you mean that witch Kalia?” Korruptus replied, “It’s not like I’m her babysitter or something – she pretty much goes where she pleases, but somehow will always show up when you call for her.”

“Heh, fair enough, it’s not like I have any reason to doubt her capabilities anyway,” Jon remarked.

“Avalon, as I said earlier, just give me the word, I am ready to crush the enemy!” Korruptus repeated himself, dragging a hoofed foot against the ground to demonstrate his eagerness for battle.

“Patience now, Korruptus,” Avalon replied calmly, keeping his gaze fixed on the South side of Xaelis where the fighting continued to rage. “Remember the plan, we hold our current positions until the Arachnis Queens have completed their objectives; then we attack.”

The minotaur-like alien grumbled and fidgeted, “Avalon, you of all people know that patience isn’t one of my better qualities. It’s been too long since I got the thrill of battle and revelled in trampling our enemies under my hooves!”

“Yep, that’s the Korru I knew,” Jon replied with a dry chuckle, “Even back in our days as the Black Sails… you really could stand to learn a thing or two from our former bosun, Reaper.” Korruptus and Jon had a storied history together, which went back a long way when they were still ordinary space pirates before joining the ranks of Drekis’ chosen. Back when Korruptus still went by the name Korru.

Korruptus unshouldered his giant axe-hammer, the ax side of the weapon stained black from the blood of countless victims in battles from a long time ago. “Not to worry, my Magister. I may lack patience, but I do not lack discipline. Once the time comes for us to move, I promise that I will crush the enemy in the name of our Archon!”

 

Segment 44: The 2nd Battle of Xaelis, Part 1

Atop the Inner City’s walls, soldiers and militia alike watched the battle with growing consternation as shots from the Gungnirs and other artillery units pummeled enemy positions. Many of them wanted to take part in the battle that was raging in the outer districts as the frontline made a gradual fighting withdrawal towards the fortifications. But Scout had made his orders clear – the division stationed within the Inner City were to refrain from engaging the enemy until the frontline had fallen back to the walls.

Ptera-Deminites circled overhead, showering the heavy artillery with salvos of ball lightning amidst fusillades of counter-fire from distant Deminite Gunners; but through it all, the force field formed by the combined efforts of the Sentinels’ mystics continued to weather the onslaught, while anti-air guns and SAM launchers made short work of the winged demons.

“Man, look at them go,” A soldier stationed behind the Inner City walls commented as he watched the explosions in the sky, K-39A2 assault rifle in hand. “They’re practically feeding themselves into the meat grinder.”

“They’ve brought more beasties compared to last time, but the outcome’s gonna be the same,” A fellow soldier added, until he felt what he thought were faint vibrations running through the ground, right underneath his feet. “Wait! Did you feel that?”

“Feel what?” The first soldier wondered.

“Vibrations in the ground, it’s right under our feet,” The second soldier clarified, as the ground beneath them vibrated, and this time the first soldier noticed it too, his grip tightening around his weapon as he instinctively placed his index finger within his assault rifle’s trigger guard.

“I-It’s gotta be just the kick from the Gungnirs, right?” The first soldier tried to rationalise what he sensed, even as the vibrations grew stronger, and then out of the blue, there was a rumble and the entire ground beneath his feet collapsed into a large sinkhole as he disappeared into the depths.

“Yamada, no!” The second soldier exclaimed his comrade’s name as he rushed to the edge of the sinkhole, only to stumble back in shock and disbelief as a monster that resembled a giant, hellish centipede burst out from the hole, with Private Yamada seized between its jaws.

“Ahh! Thornwell, help! Get this thing off me!” Yamada thrashed about in the monster’s grip as Private Thornwell opened fire at the creature. Several more soldiers and paramilitary volunteers, drawn by the sounds of the screaming and gunfire, also converged upon the scene as they began shooting up the beast, but their small-arms fire proved ineffective against the Arachnis Queen’s reinforced carapace.

The Arachnis Queen clenched its jaws, snapping the hapless private in half with a single bite before turning its attention to the remaining fighting men and women, who continued to unleash bullets, lasers and pulsed plasma at it, but their light fire barely scratched the giant minion’s armoured exoskeleton.

Across the Inner City districts, behind the alleged sanctuary of the mighty walls, the same scene played itself out as more Arachnis Queens burst out of the ground; but the centipede-like minions did not emerge from their burrows alone; their spawn, the Arachnii – also began swarming out of the holes, spiderlike in their appearance and with torsos roughly the size of a football.

The buglike minions scuttled towards the Khazanian defenders at a stunning speed, who opened fire into the swarm with everything they had – assault rifles, light machine guns, combat shotguns, laser rifles, pulsed plasma rifles and ion pulse blasters mowed down the spiderlike minions by the dozens, but they swarmed towards the soldiers and militia by the hundreds, quickly overwhelming them with the dagger-like tips of their legs and venomous fangs.

Just as the defenders stationed behind the Inner City walls thought the pandemonium couldn’t get any worse, the more familiar breeds of Drekis minions also began to enter the fray, clawing their way to the surface through Arachnis Queens’ burrows – Deminite Soldiers, Reptillions, Reavers and their ilk climbed out of the holes to join the Arachnis Queens and their spawn in the slaughter.

Before long, the Inner City that everyone thought would be a sanctuary turned into a war zone that was every bit as frenzied and brutal as the battle being fought outside the walls. Deminite Soldiers hurled balls of hellfire indiscriminately at military targets and civilian residences alike, and residents fleeing from their burning homes were set upon by Reptillions and butchered without mercy or pity.

“Just how did these fiends manage to bypass the walls!?” Tanin exclaimed in disbelief as he drew Chrysilium out of its sheath, its blade emitting a golden-white light. A Deminite Soldier charged at the Archon of Light, who nimbly dodged its claw swipe before slashing it across the torso; the Archon’s divine sword sliced through the beast’s body as though it were a block of tofu, sending its sundered halves to the ground.

Roaring, more Deminites swarmed Tanin; some charging into melee, and others staying at the back and launching blasts of fire. Unfazed, the Archon of Light weaved and dodged the incoming attacks with such grace that he appeared to dance in and out of their ranks, deflecting fireballs, dodging melee attacks and cutting down enemies like stalks of grass before a lawn mower. 

Scout broke into a sprint as fireballs exploded against the ground behind him, before vaulting over a military supply crate for cover. “Terrible… Just how did it come to this!?” The Colonel wondered. As soon as the Deminites stopped slinging fireballs, Scout rose from cover and brought two Deminite Soldiers down with two successive shots from his Ranger Repeater.

A Devonox crushed the turret of a Mobile Police APC with a two-fisted overhead smash, before lifting the crippled vehicle and throwing it towards a nearby alleyway, blocking it off from approaching Khazanian soldiers and Rangers who were trying to assist Tanin.

“Ooh, you want a one-on-one with me, eh?” Tanin performed a flourish with his sword before beckoning towards the Devonox, which threw back its head and emitted a thunderous bellow and barrelled down the street towards the Archon, who stood his ground with a smirk to meet the charging behemoth head on.

Instead of trampling over Tanin as it had expected, the Devonox passed right through the Archon as if he were an immaterial phantom. The beast gave a confused growl, before swiping at Tanin several more times, each blow passing through the Archon. The Devonox roared as a sudden burst of pain exploded in its right leg, finding that another Tanin had appeared and sliced its right calf. 

In a surge of pain-fuelled rage, the Devonox clawed and hammered wildly, trying to hit the Archon of Light as he nonchalantly evaded each and every attack with a casual smile on his face. Spittle flew from the towering minion’s mouth as it roared and brought both fists down on its target, only to pass right through another phantom and crater the tarmac below. 

“Not too bright, are you?” Tanin remarked as he had already repositioned himself at the Devonox’s left flank and swiftly stabbed it with Chrysilium, driving his sword through its left tricep. The Devonox roared and spun around with a clothesline-like strike, with Tanin getting Chrysilium up just in time to block the powerful blow upon the flat edge of the sword.

Tanin grunted as the blow sent him flying, towards a nearby building, the Archon performed a backflip in midair to offset the impact by planting his feet against the wall instead of crashing back-first into it, while the Devonox turned its attention back to the phantom Tanins that still surrounded it, still trying to land hits on the apparitions.

Still perched on the wall while doing a split, Tanin let out a loud whistle to catch the Devonox’s attention; the juggernaut growled as it spun in the direction of the sound, just in time to witness Tanin launching himself off the wall, sailing through the air like a missile. The Devonox performed a wind-up as it prepared to swat the Archon out of the air, but Tanin was faster as he brought Chrysilium down on the creature’s head in a downward chop, burying its blade deep inside its skull. 

The Archon of Light kicked the creature in the chest, using the force of the kick to not only extract his blade, but also to launch him back, as he performed two backflips in the air before landing with catlike grace on his feet as the minion toppled over seconds later, its lifeless body hitting the tarmac with a loud crash.

“I think I understand how Drekis has managed to conquer so many worlds,” Tanin said to himself as the Archon hardly found any time to catch his breath as Deminite Soldiers joined the fray, slinging hellfire at him. “These may be cannon fodder, but they’re hardly weak! And combined with such overwhelming numbers it’s easy to see why no world has managed to resist the Drekis Empire.”

Under the leadership of Scout, the Khazanians managed to rally and regroup from the surprise attack within the Inner City. As soldiers and Mobile Police formed defensive phalanxes in the streets, Khazan Rangers moved through the narrow alleys to flank the Drekis legion, while civilian militia garrisoned in high-rise buildings provided overwatch.

“Scout! What was it that I just heard about the enemy in the Inner City?” Uberman’s voice came over Scout’s comms as the Colonel personally led a fireteam of Rangers in brutal house-to-house fighting.

“The enemy managed to tunnel right under the walls!” Scout replied, clearing out a room of Discordant Scions with a frag grenade. “They caught us by surprise, but we’re holding our ground! Don’t worry about the things on my side, Uberman. Just focus on holding your line!”

“Is that the last of them?” A militiaman positioned around an Arachnis Queen burrow wondered as five minutes went by without any Drekis minions climbing out of the hole, convincing him that maybe, just maybe they’d wiped out the last of the Drekis hordes that had infiltrated the Inner City.

“I… I think we spoke too soon!” Another militia member exclaimed as tremors ran through the ground beneath their feet, her grip tightening around her M4A1 SOPMOD on instinct as the tremors intensified, and the edges of the Arachnis Queen burrow began to collapse, widening the opening.

The Khazanians inched cautiously towards the hole in the ground as the tremors subsided, only to scatter as a searing, flamethrower-like jet of blue flame erupted from the hole. Seconds later, a new threat presented itself as a previously unheard of breed of Drekis minion exploded out of the burrow – it resembled in giant beetle; nearly 50 feet in length and covered sheathed in a thick, chitinous armour; however, its head also bore some semblance to that of a dragon.

The armoured minion let loose a shrill cry as six appendages on its back that served as bio-energy cannons fired bolts of plasma around. Soldiers and militia opened fire at the tank-like beast, but small-arms fire had virtually no effect as bullets, lasers and pulsed plasma glanced harmlessly off its carapace. In retaliation, the creature lowered its head and spewed a burning stream of bio-napalm from its mouth, sweeping its jet of fire to and fro and wiping out an entire squad in a matter of seconds, littering the ground with their charred remains. 

The remaining fighters pulled back, continuing to fire on the giant biomechanoid to no avail, as sections of its carapace opened up to reveal hollow compartments within its exoskeleton, from which Deminite Soldiers and Reptillions emerged to launch themselves into the fray with sadistic glee.

The tank-like beast fired its bio-plasma cannons at the Inner City wall, causing sections of the fortifications to collapse, sending the fighters positioned on top to plummet to their deaths below, while other shots were aimed at the positions of the Sentinel mystics and wizards, who were too focused on maintaining the shield around the Gungnirs and Laevateins to defend themselves, resulting in their instantaneous deaths.

“No! They’re trying to disable the shields around our heavy artillery by killing the mages maintaining the barrier!” Tanin exclaimed as he arrived on the scene just in time to witness the biomechanoid’s rampage. “Concentrate your fire on that thing, we can’t let that happen!”

The instant the Archon finished speaking, the ground rumbled once more, and another Arachnis Queen burrow widened as a second biomechanoid burst from the ground, firing its bio-plasma cannons at a Laevatein positioned atop the Inner City wall. More mages perished in the assault as the section of the wall became too structurally compromised to support the massive particle beam cannon, setting off a disastrous chain reaction as the Laevatein and sections of the wall it was mounted on collapsed, sending tons of debris raining down and crushing those unlucky enough to be in the way.

In a single ambush, the death toll of the Sentinels’ mystic brigade had risen to a point where they could no longer reliably maintain the protective barrier around the big guns. The protective dome of energy flickered and faded, and under the sustained bombardment of countless volleys of ball lightning from flocks of Ptera-Deminites, collapsed entirely, leaving the Inner City vulnerable.

 

Segment 45: Breached!

“Well, well… Look how the mighty have fallen… The Arachnis Queens and Tanker Beasts have done their part,” Jon mused from his vantage point as he watched the protective dome over Xaelis’ Inner City flicker and then fade away. He could only imagine how panicked and desperate the Khazanians must be at this point as they were now at the mercy of the Ptera-Deminites’ rain of ball lightning.

“Magister, is it time?” Korruptus asked as he stepped forward, his grip tightening around the shaft of his massive axe-hammer as a snarling aura of orange flames engulfed its head.

“Almost, my Apostle,” Avalon said as he raised his energy sword above his head, “There only remains one more thing…”

“Deminite Gunners! At my command…” The Drekis general pointed the tip of his sword at Xaelis, “Fire!”

Zegrin roared as the massive, corpulent, toad-like minions known as Deminite Gunners charged up the heavy bio-cannons on their backs and fired in unison, sending bolts of magical plasma arcing through the night sky like a demonic parody of a meteor shower.

Under Jon Avalon’s coordination, the Deminite Gunners fired with lethal accuracy as their counter-battery fire destroyed Xaelis’ big guns and killed the crews operating them, as well as further weakening the structure of the fortifications.

Korruptus grinned as Jon locked eyes with his Apostle, the two of them exchanging a nod and a smile.

“And now’s the time,” Jon remarked as Zegrin flapped his wings, carrying the Magister into the sky. “Attack!”

A cacophony of roars, bellows, screeches and other monstrous cries erupted from the ranks of Avalon’s legion as they followed their Magister’s lead. Deminite Soldiers, Reptillions and Reavers led the charge, while Hive Guards, Devonoxes and more Tanker Beasts lumbered behind them, and Ptera-Deminites took to the air to escort Jon.

“This is what I’ve been waiting for!” Korruptus bellowed and thumped his chest, joining the lesser minions in their charge, flaming axe-hammer in hand and accompanied by a retinue of Discordant Scions.

 

Segment 46: The 2nd Battle of Xaelis, Part 2

The destruction of the big guns protecting Xaelis, coupled with the surprise attack within its Inner City walls had greatly turned the tide in the favour of the Drekis Legions, as Uberman and Captain Khazan made the difficult decision to turn away from holding the line outside the city walls, to backing up Scout’s forces inside the Inner City. 

By now, inner Xaelis had become as much of a slaughterhouse as the outer city; fires raged out of control, buildings lay in ruin, and the remains of Khazanians and Drekis minions alike littered the streets. “Bastards!” Uberman growled as he caved in the skull of a Deminite Soldier with a single punch. He and Captain Khazan made short work of the hordes of Deminite Soldiers as they carved a path through their ranks to get to the Tanker Beasts.

As they approached, they found that Tanin was already going to town on one of the biomechanoids, evading the Tanker’s plasma cannons and flame breath with otherworldly ease and landing blow after blow with Chrysilium, the Archon’s divine greatsword carving through the biomechanoid’s armoured carapace as if it were cardboard. 

“Well, this is taking a bit longer than I had hoped!” The Archon of Light’s normally confident tone now bore a tinge of frustration. Gore spilled from the numerous wounds he had inflicted upon the Tanker, but the biomechanoid’s massive size and bulk prevented the Archon from sinking his blade deep enough to get at its vitals. 

The Tanker Beast discharged its fire breath once more, and Tanin dodged the stream of burning bio-napalm by blinking out of reality and re-materialising in midair above the creature. “Begone, foul beast!” Tanin declared as he performed a plunging stab with Chrysilium, crashing on the nape of its neck and thrusting its blade deep into its armoured body. 

As the badly-damaged biomechanoid bucked and thrashed about in an attempt to throw Tanin off, Uberman and Captain Khazan joined in the assault; with the cyborg firing one concussive blast after another from his suit’s forearm blasters, each shot hitting with the force of a tank gun, while Captain Khazan flew up to the creature’s face at full speed and dealt it a powerful punch that pierced straight through its right eye and into its brain.

The Tanker roared in pain as the damages piled up, and as if aware of its imminent demise, the biomechanoid’s struggles grew more desperate, more frantic as it charged blindly down the streets and fired every weapon indiscriminately, laying waste to buildings and trampling over friend and foe alike. By the time Tanin struck the fatal blow by stabbing the Tanker Beast between the eyes, an entire neighbourhood had been reduced to ruins.

“There’s still one more of those things!” Scout remarked as he pulled up to the heroes, the Colonel manning the pintle-mounted, quad-linked pulse blasters on the rear of a KM-series “Wolfhound” reconnaissance craft. But before they could make their way to the other Tanker Beast, a powerful explosion tore a gaping hole in a Northern segment of the Xaelis wall.

And like a dam bursting during a spring flood, a torrent of enemies poured in through the breach, as thousands of Deminite Soldiers and other light minions entered first, followed by heavyweights such as Devonoxes, Hive Guards and Scorponox mercenaries, as well as an assorted array of Discordant Scions from dozens of different species and virtually all walks of life. 

Already stretched thin by holding the line against Deimos’ legion and the sudden emergence of minions in the Inner City and the loss of their Gungnir and Laevatein batteries, the breach of Northern wall proved to be the final tipping point for the Khazanians as the Southern line retreated back into the Inner City. 

Deimos’ own legion remained strong despite their considerable losses, and with Avalon’s legion attacking from the North, the Khazanians found themselves steadily losing ground as the two Magisters’ combined legions drove them further and further back, towards the downtown core. 

Even as they found themselves outnumbered and outgunned, the combined force of soldiers, heroes and civilian militia continued to fight back with everything they had, as powers and magic worked in conjunction with heavy firepower to kill Deminites by the hundreds, but the defenders knew the truth – unless they had a viable exit strategy, it was only a matter of time before they were boxed in and wiped out. “I hate to say this, Colonel, but we’re going to need an exit strategy if we’re to get out of this alive!” Uberman’s voice came over the global comms. 

Captain Khazan threw punches and kicks hard and fast as Deminite Soldiers swarmed him, as the Khazanian hero decimated an entire wave of Deminites attempting to dogpile him, another incoming wave of Deminite Soldiers unleashed a volley of hellfire blasts in Trent’s direction, forcing him to back up. “Captain Khazan, above you!” Scout warned over the comms.

Trent lifted his head just in time to witness what appeared to be a demonically-twisted minotaur sailing through the air towards him, axe-hammer raised high. The Captain leaped back to avoid the crushing blow and took to the skies, only to find himself swarmed by flocks of Ptera-Deminites, which attacked him with claws, fangs and ball lightning.

Scout swivelled the pintle-mounted gun around and opened fire at the minotaur as he began to charge in the Colonel’s direction, sending a rapid fire volley of heavy pulsed plasma at the advancing titan.

“Raaargh! Curse you, Khazanian!” The minotaur-like elite minion took Scout’s fire without skipping a beat as he swiftly closed the gap. The Colonel and the reconnaissance craft’s driver leapt out of their vehicle right as the minotaur lowered his head and drove his horns into the Wolfhound’s chassis, hoisting the vehicle above his head and shaking it wildly a few times before tossing it aside like a discarded toy.

Uberman raised his arms, aiming both forearm blasters at the new enemy, only to find himself interrupted by a familiar voice, “Leader of the Sentinels, we meet again,” Avalon’s voice called from above as he descended from the skies on the back of Zegrin, his silhouette blurred by the falling rain. 

Zegrin greeted Uberman with a roar as he landed, resting his belly against the ground to allow Jon to get off from the saddle before taking off into the sky once more as the Magister engaged the cyborg in a tense staredown.

“You’re the one behind all the killings, all this destruction!” Uberman's voice quaked in fury as he pointed at Jon. “I’ll put an end to your rampage, if that’s the last thing I must do!” 

“You’re not the first to tell me that, and by no means will you be the last,” Jon chuckled nonchalantly as he held up his energy sword, its blade casting its ghostly green glow over his face. “Tough words won’t get you anywhere, unless you can back them up with actions. If stopping us is what your heart so desires, then come at me with everything you’ve got!” 

“Much obliged,” Uberman growled as he raised his fists and got into a fighting stance, to Jon’s delight as the Magister licked his lips and slowly assumed his own swordplay stance. As the two belligerents prepared to clash, they would find themselves interrupted by Tanin as the Archon of Light descended from the heavens like a bolt of lightning, landing between the two in a three-point stance.

“Now what have we here?” Jon wondered, raising an eyebrow as he took a cautious step back.

“Uberman, just hold a moment please,” The Archon said as he stood back up. “Leave Avalon to me; right now, the soldiers and civilians really could use your leadership to guide them through this rough spot. So let me entertain Mr. Fancy-Pants here, while you go take out the cannon fodder.”

Uberman looked around, and on every front he could see the exhausted and undersupplied soldiers, militia and Mobile Police struggling to hold back the advancing demons, who were trying to get at the civilians who had been instructed to evacuate Xaelis; if they fail here, the tides of darkness would wash over Xaelis’ civilian populace, resulting in an incalculable loss of innocent lives. “Understood, Tanin,” Uberman nodded as he fired up his armour’s flight repulsors, “Be careful against Jon Avalon, he is a formidable foe.”

“Hey, just where do you think you’re going?” The minotaur bellowed as he noticed the cyborg preparing to take off. “I, Korruptus, will not be denied my shot at glory!” Hefting his massive axe-hammer, Korruptus charged towards Uberman at full speed, looking to tackle the cyborg to the ground. But before he could do so, a figure flew in at great speed from his right flank – so fast that to the naked eye it registered as nothing more than a speed blur – and slammed into the minotaur like a runaway freight train.

“Ugh!” Korruptus grunted in pain and surprise as the figure tackled him through several buildings, leaving a trail of rubble and flying debris in their wake as the two quickly vanished from view.

“My, you have quite the penchant for nicknames,” Jon snickered as Uberman took off, leaving him to face Tanin alone. “I’ve been given many nicknames in my time, but ‘Mr. Fancy-Pants’ is a new one, I’ll admit.”

“Spending so much time idling has gotten me a tad frustrated,” Tanin retorted, returning Avalon’s smirk as he raised Chrysilium and shifting into a combat stance, “So forgive me if I take out my pent-up rage on you.”

“Nice sword you have there,” Jon mused, raising his own weapon as he took his own stance. “Let’s see if your skill is worthy of such a fine weapon.”

The Magister and the Archon ended their exchange of words as they launched themselves at each other, Jon charging towards Tanin with fleet-footed strides, while Tanin levitated himself a few inches off the surface and shot straight towards Jon like a human rocket. The two swordsmen met in the middle, swinging their blades in unison. As their weapons clashed in mid-strike, a powerful shockwave accompanied by a nova-like burst of energy erupted from their connecting blades, turning the ground beneath them into a crater and evaporating the rain in their vicinity to create a short-lived sphere of dryness.

The two fighters were launched back by the mutual release of energy, skidding back a good twenty metres apart from each other. “The energy of Chaos reacts strongly to you,” Jon remarked, having observed how the energies released by their weapons interacted, with Chrysilium radiating a warm, golden-white light, while his own weapon emitted a ghostly green light. “I can tell you’re no run-of-the-mill hero… you must be an Archon… the Archon of Order, I take it?”

“How observant! You’re close – but I’m the Archon of Light, so no banana for you,” Tanin riposted as he gave Chrysilium a twirl. “What about yourself then? I sense a spark of Divine Authority within you, but you’re obviously no Archon yourself… Just what are you?”

“Why don’t you come over here and find out for yourself?” Avalon sniggered as he beckoned at Tanin.

The two once more charged in at breakneck speeds once more, their movements registering to normal human vision as nothing more than darting shadows and glowing trails of fluorescent green and yellow-white as they exchanged dozens of strikes in a span of seconds. Jon parried a horizontal slash from Tanin, before shoving the Archon back and countering with a roundhouse slash, only to cut through an afterimage. The Magister spun around in a nick of time as Tanin thrust his sword at him; Chrysilium pierced right through Jon’s energy sheath, but it slowed the Archon’s attack just enough for Avalon to turn his body and avoid getting run through.

Tanin raised his weapon to deal an overhead chop, but Jon raised his own weapon to block the strike, and countered with a Spartan kick to the Archon’s midsection, knocking him back several paces.

“Credit where it’s due, compared to your lackeys you’re certainly made of sterner stuff,” Tanin smirked as he rolled with the force of Avalon’s kick to allow himself to go into a pirouette to disperse the force of the impact and regain his footing.

“Experience pays, Archon. I’ve observed similar tricks on other worlds,” Jon replied as lightning flashed in the sky above them, “You of all people should understand this well.”

“Damn straight,” Tanin chorused, his cocky smile never leaving his face throughout the entirety of their duel so far as he used his free hand to give his nose a playful flick with his thumb. “This is going to be interesting!”

 

Segment 47: Enter Korruptus

Captain Khazan and Korruptus plowed through three full city blocks before coming to a stop inside a shopping mall. Captain Khazan rose to his feet in the middle of the mall’s atrium, with kiosks and decorations set up for an upcoming festive event that sadly would never come due to the current events in Xaelis. Korruptus on the other hand, crashed through the storefront of a patisserie known as “Florencia’s”, and moments later, came sauntering out of the ruined cake shop, treating himself to a strawberry cake that he ate messily.

“Mmm… a bit too sweet and creamy for my liking, but not bad,” Korruptus remarked as he licked the cream off his fingers and lips. As soon as the minotaur was done, Captain Khazan flew right up to Korruptus and decked him in the face with a powerful left cross, sending the Apostle flying right back into the ruined patisserie, smashing several sets of tables and chairs in its cafe area.

“That was a big mistake, Khazanian,” Korruptus growled, springing back onto his feet as Captain Khazan burst into the cake shop to have another go at the minotaur. The caped crusader came in with two quick left jabs, followed by a mighty right straight; Korruptus tilted his head side to side to dodge the jabs, before blocking the straight with the flat side of his ax blade, the resulting shockwave from Captain Khazan’s punch shattering every article of glass in the store as Korruptus’ feet skidded back.

As the Sentinel spun around to perform a Tornado Kick, Korruptus countered by pivoting and catching him in the midsection with the hammer side of his axe-hammer, his weapon emitting a shockwave accompanied by a nova of flames as it struck Captain Khazan, knocking the caped crusader out of the store and flying across the atrium to land on the walkway of the second floor.

Captain Khazan rolled back onto his feet and took on a karate stance as Korruptus burst out of the patisserie and from the atrium, made a mighty leap to land on the second floor walkway facing the Captain, the head of his axe-hammer engulfed in flames. The Sentinel was ready as Korruptus turned his weapon over to its ax side and raised it high for an overhead chop, turning sideways to avoid the powerful blow as the ax blade not only cut through the flooring, but collapsed an entire section of the structure to reveal the level below.

The wild attack left Korruptus momentarily off-balance due to overcompensation, and Captain Khazan was quick to take advantage of the opening as he stomped his left foot onto the head of the minotaur’s weapon, before leaping into the air with his right knee tucked close to his chest and thrusting his foot out at the apex of his leap to nail the Apostle in the chest with a bird kick, knocking him away from his weapon and sending him crashing back onto the ground floor. For good measure, Captain Khazan gave the axe-hammer a stiff kick, sending it flying to the ceiling rafters of the top floor, where its blade buried itself deep inside a beam, keeping the weapon well out of Korruptus’ reach.

“Bah! I don’t need no axe!” Korruptus snarled as Captain Khazan leapt down to the atrium right as the minotaur picked himself up from the floor, his fists now engulfed in the same fiery halo as his axe-hammer. The Apostle came in with a barrage of punches – from quick jabs to powerful hooks and straights, but Captain Khazan, being a skilled pugilist, telegraphed Korruptus’ attacks and nimbly weaved and ducked out of the way of the blows.

As Trent performed a slip to avoid a left straight from Korruptus, the caped crusader would simultaneously cross-counter with a right straight to the Apostle’s jaw, followed by a left body blow to the belly, and an elbow to the temple that rocked his opponent. Keeping up the pressure, Captain Khazan called upon his extensive knowledge of martial arts to barrage Korruptus with moves from Boxing, Muay Thai, Karate, Bak Mei, Wing Chun, Bajiquan, Piguazhang, Lethwei, and even fighting disciplines of non-Terran origin.

“Is that all you’ve got?” Korruptus taunted; each blow sent shockwaves rippling through the air and caused the hulking minotaur to stagger, but despite the bloodying he received at Captain Khazan’s hands the Apostle’s stamina and grit was out of this world as he showed no signs of breaking, his bloodthirsty grin never leaving his face and making him appear to derive masochistic joy from the beatdown.

Captain Khazan wheeled around, attempting a high roundhouse kick, but the powerful Apostle blocked the kick with his forearm and countered with a one-two punch combo. The caped crusader parried the jab, but caught square in the face by the thunderous cross that followed, sending him flying across the mall atrium and crashing through the storefront of a jewelry shop. “Ouch…” The Captain grunted as he rose to his feet, brushing away the burning embers that still clung to his cheek and burned away at his skin.

Korruptus chuckled at the sight of Captain Khazan reeling in pain. “Feeling sore about that, boyscout? Come at me again if you want some payback,” The minotaur smirked as he raised the middle finger of his right hand. 

Captain Khazan bellowed as he flew at full speed, tackling the Apostle to the ground with such force that the two crashed through the ground floor, through the basement, and right into the sub-basement that housed the mall’s M&E facilities. Korruptus seized Captain Khazan by the head and smashed his face several times against the floor, against the walls, and through several thick metal pipes.

In return, Captain Khazan ducked under a lariat from Korruptus, before countering with a punch to the belly, followed by an uppercut that sent the minotaur reeling. Korruptus swiftly recovered from the attacks, and once more enveloped his fists in flame, just as Captain Khazan noticed from the flammable symbol on a nearby wall that they were in the wing of the M&E sub-basement that supplies gas to the mall’s F&B outlets.

The entire mall shuddered as a massive explosion ripped through its sub-basement, as Captain Khazan was launched into the air through the hole he’d made, flying several stories into the air before crashing back onto the ground floor, his body covered in bruises and SLJ battlesuit scorched and torn in places. “Guess he didn’t see that coming,” The Sentinel muttered as he painfully hobbled back onto his feet, massaging his aching joints and sore muscles.

“Looks like I spoke too soon,” Captain Khazan remarked as moments later, Korruptus clambered out of the raging inferno below like a demon rising out of hell, the minotaur looking just as roughed-up as the Sentinel, but still determined as ever as he assumed a fighting stance.

‘Damn, what a frightening opponent!’ Captain Khazan thought; few could remain standing after taking one of his full-strength blows, and even fewer could withstand an all-out beatdown from the Captain and come back for more with a smile. It was at this point that Captain Khazan took to the air, putting distance between himself and his opponent to give himself room and time to reevaluate his tactics.

“Hey you, get back here!” Korruptus yelled, shaking his fists as Captain Khazan levitated in the air, staying near the top floor of the mall.

“Huh, looks like he’s incapable of flying under his own power,” Captain Khazan said under his breath as below him, Korruptus stomped his feet and shook his fists. “I might be able to use this to my advantage…”

“Fine!” Korruptus snorted as he raised both flaming fists above his head. “If you’re not coming down, then I’m going up!” The minotaur roared as the flaming aura surrounding his fists expanded to envelop his entire body. With a bellow that shook the mall to its foundations, the Apostle smashed both fists onto the floor, creating a powerful explosion that propelled him through the air, launching him straight towards Captain Khazan as he lowered his head, looking to gore the Sentinel upon his horns.

 

Segment 48: Fears Manifested

The fighting men and women of Xaelis rallied around Uberman, who in his righteous indignation took out any Deminite in sight, but as more and more Drekis minions continued to pour into the Inner City through the breaches in the wall, it was undeniable to the cyborg that Xaelis was lost at this point. The only thing they could do now was to ensure that as many civilians as possible got safely to the evacuation sites that were established throughout the city.

“Uberman, evac of the civilians is almost complete on my end,” Scout’s voice came in over the comms. “Give us the word, and we’ll begin to pull out from Xaelis ourselves.”

But before Uberman could give the order for the Sentinels and other Khazanian defenders to retreat, a cold, emotionless voice interrupted the Sentinel leader.

“Uberman, am I right?” Deimos asked a rhetorical question as the Deminites’ ranks parted to allow the dark-haired Magister to step forward, his eyes emitting an eerie, blood-red glow as wisps of steam rose where the rain made contact with Phobos’ flaming blade. “Tell me, what will you do now? Will you defend this doomed city to your last breath, or will you retreat and abandon Xaelis?”

Before Uberman could even utter a single word in response, Deimos’ eyes glowed brighter, and Uberman’s vision grew hazy while the sounds around him became distorted. Suddenly, the cyborg found himself no longer in the streets of a war-torn Xaelis, but in the streets of Magdeburg in 1938; Kristallnacht was in full swing, as crowds of rioters participated in the anti-Jewish pogroms raging across Germany, the cyborg watching as unruly mobs ransacked homes, looted businesses and attacked Jews on the street.

“What the…” Uberman muttered in shock and disbelief as he instinctively tried to stop a mob of rioters, only to pass right through them. “What trickery is this!?”

The sights and sounds became distorted again, and the scene changed as Uberman now found himself witnessing a scene of civilians being herded onto trains by the Waffen SS – and as before, the cyborg found himself powerless to intervene as the doomed individuals were crammed into the waiting carriages inbound for Auschwitz. “Nein! Bitte nicht… NEIN!” Uberman screamed as he punched ineffectually at the phantoms.

Once more, the scene shifted, and Uberman watched as Wehrmacht guards shot his son in an alley as he attempted to smuggle materials for him to build his first powered suit. The scene changed yet again, and Uberman saw a cackling Blitzkrieg, soaked in blood, standing over the lifeless body of Lady Liberty, while his past self lay nearby in his wrecked power suit, close to drawing his last breath.

“Nein! Aufhören! Leave my memories alone!” Uberman wailed as he sank to his knees, clutching his head in his hands as he tried in vain to make the dreadful playbacks of his past go away. “None of this is real! This is nothing but an illusion!”

“Oh no, this is reality,” Deimos replied coldly as he sauntered towards despondent Uberman who was still on his knees, the blade of Phobos now burning blue. “These are merely recreations of scenes from your memory – the scars you try so hard to hide, the pain you think you have healed from… but none of it has ever gone away. Given the proper circumstances, the horror of truth will return to devour your very soul.” The Magister stood over Uberman as he raised Phobos over his head, poised to behead the Sentinel leader.

A crossbow bolt whistled through the air and struck Deimos in the forehead, and the nightmarish mindscape quickly dissipated as Uberman snapped back to reality. As the cyborg’s vision swam back into focus, he saw Deimos stagger back with a crossbow bolt pierced through his skull, and Scout holding his Ranger Repeater.

“Colonel Freebird!” Uberman exclaimed as he got back onto his feet, “I owe you one.”

“Your radio silence made me check on you, good thing I did!” Scout replied.

“Ah, just the person I wanted to meet,” Deimos chuckled as he pulled the crossbow bolt out of his head. “Don’t mind taking this back on your friend’s behalf?” The Magister asked mockingly as he planted Phobos into the ground to retrieve the machete he was stabbed with earlier and threw it at Scout with inhuman strength.

“Shit!” Scout tried to dodge the incoming blade; the Colonel’s reflexes were quick, but the projectile travelled quicker, and the machete found its mark on the veteran Ranger’s shoulder – which luckily was right shoulder where his arm and the right side of his chest had been replaced with cybernetics. Scout screamed as the thrown machete struck him with such force that he found himself knocked clear off his feet to land on his back.

“Not fast enough to dodge, but fast enough to catch it with your cybernetic half… not bad,” Deimos remarked in a frigid tone as Scout sat up with a groan and pulled out the machete, while sparks flew from his damaged cybernetic arm.

“I suggest you take a look at what you’re holding, stupid,” Scout retorted as Uberman helped him back onto his feet.

Deimos raised an eyebrow as he looked at the crossbow bolt he had extracted from his head, now emitting a faint beep. The explosive-tipped bolt exploded in the Magister’s hand, blowing off his arm up to the elbow and shredding one side of his face as the explosion knocked Deimos off his feet In response, the Deminite Soldiers roared and charged at Scout and Uberman, but they were interrupted by the sudden “thump” sound of a grenade launcher being fired.

The cyborg swiftly threw himself over Scout as a 40mm grenade went off in the middle of the Deminites’ formation, taking out over a dozen of them.

Looking up, Uberman and Scout saw a militia volunteer – a man in his 30’s dressed in multicam combat fatigues and a matching Ridgeway cap and tinted marksman glasses, armed with a FN SCAR-L with an underbarrel FN40GL. “Hey, you two okay there?” The militiaman asked, “Are there any units nearby that I can regroup with?”

“We have to get out of here,” Uberman said, shaking his head as he picked himself up.

“About time you gave the word,” Scout replied.

“Wait, what?” The militiaman chorused.

“I said we need to get out of here! Operation Pavise has failed – the attrition has taken its toll on our manpower, ammunition and supplies. I hate to say this, but Xaelis is lost!” Uberman asserted, “You said the civilians have mostly made it to the evac sites?” Scout slung back his Ranger Repeater and switched to his sidearm as he and the paramilitary volunteer held off the remaining Deminites.

“As of my last radio in? About 70% of the civilians were confirmed to have reached the evac spots,” Scout answered as the three pulled back from the advancing Deminites. The militiaman reached for a pouch on his plate carrier vest’s MOLLE webbing and retrieved a flashbang grenade, pulling the pin before tossing it into the middle of the demons’ ranks. A blinding flash coupled with a deafening bang overwhelmed the Deminites’ senses causing them to grab hold of their heads and howl. While the demons were distracted, Uberman grabbed both Scout and the militiaman and fired up his flight repulsors, taking them out of the combat zone.

“Change of plans,” Uberman spoke over the global comms channel as he flew Scout and the millitiaman to the nearest evacuation site, where civilian militia alongside armed forces and Mobile Police had established a defensive perimeter to hold off the advancing minions as civilians boarded the waiting transport airships. “All Sentinels and heroes are to assist the military in ensuring the safety of any civilians who have yet to reach the evacuation sites. Only once the civilians have been evacuated shall we commence our own retreat. We will fall back to New Xaelis!” 

“Daddy!” A little boy and girl shrieked with joy and indescribable relief as Uberman landed behind the defensive perimeter, running up to the militiaman and hugging him. A woman ran up to the Sentinel leader shortly after, thanking him profusely. The cyborg watched as the father escorted his wife and children towards a waiting evac ship, before joining the soldiers at maintaining the defensive line.

“Affirmative!” Scout replied, relaying Uberman’s orders to all units across the city, who began to escort remaining civilians as they made fighting withdrawals towards the nearest evac sites, reinforcing the perimeters established around these zones to hold the monsters at bay just long enough for the civilians to get on board the airships.

 

Segment 49: The Fall of Xaelis, Part 1

Captain Khazan grunted as he caught hold of Korruptus’ horns as the minotaur rocketed towards him, their tips barely an inch away from stabbing into the caped crusader’s torso – as durable as Trent was, with how much power Korruptus was putting into his rocket leap move, even the mighty Sentinel had doubts as to whether his armoured body could withstand such an attack. The explosive leap carried the two higher and higher, smashing through the roof of the mall as they ended up a few hundred feet in the air.

‘Has his jump finally run out of momentum?’ Captain Khazan wondered as he realised that the only reason they were still floating in midair was because his own flight powers were holding both of them aloft. “Hey Korruptus!” The caped crusader exclaimed as delivered a knee to the Apostle’s chin. “What goes up…” Trent proceeded to grapple the stunned Apostle and put him in a bear hug.

“Must come down!” With that, with his arms locked around Korruptus’ waist the Sentinel flew a loop-to-loop and began diving towards the ground at full speed. Captain Khazan performed a meteoric Izuna Drop on Korruptus as he slammed the minotaur head first into the middle of an open-air parking lot outside the mall, the seismic impact sending out a shockwave that rippled across three city blocks and sent tremors through the ground.

As the smoke and dust cleared, Korruptus lay groaning in the middle of an impact crater large and deep enough to swallow a two-storied house whole. “Your rampage ends here!” Captain Khazan declared as he knelt over the Apostle, seizing him by the collar of his armour as he prepared to ground and pound Korruptus into submission, but before the caped crusader could land a blow, Uberman’s voice came over his comms earpiece, announcing a retreat from Xaelis.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Korruptus enveloped his hands in a flaming aura and performed a double palm strike to Captain Khazan’s chest, launching the Sentinel out of the crater. As Korruptus picked himself up and climbed out of the crater, he would find Captain Khazan taking to the air instead of continuing the fight.

“What’s the matter Khazanian?” Korruptus taunted as he beckoned to the Captain, “Getting cold feet?” He didn’t wait for Trent to answer, for the minotaur had already guessed the reason behind the Sentinel’s sudden disengagement from their brawl.

“Don’t be mistaken, I’m not running away from you – between one less servant of Drekis in this world and one civilian being saved, I will prioritise the latter,” Captain Khazan glowered as he looked downwards at Korruptus. “You may have won this battle, but the war is not yet over! I swear that Khazan will not share the fate of the other worlds you fiends have ravaged!”

“Hmph, act tough all you want!” Korruptus snorted as Captain Khazan flew off into the distance, towards an evacuation site. “We’ll see what happens in the future.”

Several districts away, there was a lull in the duel between Jon and Tanin as the two swordsmen put some distance between themselves, their sweat mixing with the rain as they engaged in another staredown. “I think I know now,” Tanin remarked, smirking, “You mentioned Chaos earlier… After being vacant for centuries, has Drekis claimed the seat of the Chaos Archon?”

“Ha! Such a perceptive one, I expected no less from the Archon of Light,” Avalon replied, giving his energy sword a flourish. “May I hazard a guess, and say you’ve been theorising on that for quite some time already?”

“No doubt about that!” Tanin replied as he and Avalon charged at each other to trade blows once more. The two combatants locking themselves in a dance of blades – every move was telegraphed with godlike precision as they exchanged feints, dodges and parries, having swung their blades at each other for hundreds, if not thousands of times, yet neither one nor the other so far had come close to landing a decisive strike, only a frustrating series of near-misses.

The two pulled back once more, as Tanin continued his interrogation of Avalon, “Been thinking ever since I became aware of that one you call Drekis – his methods mirror those of the Chaos Archon my predecessors have fought… the one called Selegon, but divergent enough that I can’t jump to the conclusion that the Archon of Chaos has indeed finally found a successor. Thanks for confirming my theory though! Guess Drekis invested a fragment of his Authority in you, eh?”

“In that, you are correct,” Jon chuckled, “But I’m not the only one whom His Eminence has imparted a sliver of His divine Authority to… there are others whom He has appointed as Magisters to lead His legions in His stead.”

“That is so unlike Selegon,” Tanin interjected, “Guess your boss can’t stand to get his hands dirty, huh?” The Archon readied Chrysilium to have another go at the Magister, but Uberman’s voice crackled over a comms unit clipped onto his armour, the Sentinels leader announcing a complete withdrawal from Xaelis.

“Looks like this is it for tonight, we’ll settle this another day,” Tanin remarked as he levitated into the air, higher and higher.

Avalon chuckled dryly as he looked up at Tanin, his hands resting on the pommel of his sword. “What a pitiful sight to behold, someone with the full Authority of an Archon retreating before someone who only has a spark of divine Authority… What would your predecessor say of this?”

The Magister’s comments stung, but the Archon of Light masked his anger behind a smiling facade as he glanced at Jon who was standing amidst the burning buildings, his heart filled with growing frustration. “Do not confuse prudence for concession, Magister,” Tanin retorted as he accelerated and flew off, leaving Jon and his minions behind.

 

Segment 50: The Fall of Xaelis, Part 2

Michael Cortelloni joined a crowd of civilians in moving in a brisk but orderly manner towards the nearest evacuation point, escorted by two squads of militia. One of the camo-garbed militiamen barked a warning as a horde of Deminites raced down an adjacent alleyway to intercept the civilians. The paramilitary fighter raised his Howa Type 89, and was quickly joined by the rest of his squad as they opened fire into the alley, assault rifles and shotguns blazing. 

Several Deminites fell instantly to the militia’s concentrated fire, but ones at the back used their slain comrades as meat shields to soak up the gunfire as they pushed forward with great persistence, eager to get at the civilians. “Everyone, stand back!” Michael shouted as he pushed his way to the front, raising his hands. 

Using his telekinesis, Cortelloni levitated several wrecked automobiles and large chunks of rubble, before sending them flying down the alley, crushing the incoming horde under tons of metal and stone, and sealing off the alley. 

Just as the crowd was about to move on, a girl’s scream caught Michael’s direction as he spun in the direction of her voice. A little girl of about 6 to 7 years of age cowered in fear as a Reptillion climbed onto the top of the debris heap, sword drawn and looking to leap into the fray. The ex-mobster moved fast, drawing his Webley clone and shooting the lizardman between the eyes. 

“T-thank you, mister,” The child nodded as she scrambled off to join her parents and siblings. 

“Stay out of trouble, kids,” Michael said to himself as he soon arrived at an evac site with the others. A Hermes-class airship stood waiting, boarding ramp lowered; as the civilians began ascending the ramp to get on board the transport, the militia joined the soldiers in maintaining a defensive line to cover the evacuating civilians, supported by mortar teams and heavy machine gun crews. 

“You did great back there, sir,” As Michael boarded the Hermes, he found a man in a mask and colourful tights praising the esper’s work in saving the girl, “Ever considered signing a contract with the Sentinels of Liberty and Justice? We could really use a man of your talent,” The costumed hero remarked. 

“Sincerely, go fuck yourself,” Cortelloni grumbled in response as he brushed past the Sentinel and headed deeper into the ship with the rest of the civilians.

As a second wave of Drekis minions converged upon the evac site, the militia and armed forces dug in, continuing to hold the line until the last of the civilians boarded the airships. “That’s the last of them, sir! Orders?” The captain in charge of the defensive perimeter radioed over to Scout. 

“Give me your coordinates, captain; we’ll clear out the enemy with air strikes and you’ll pull out of Xaelis, clear?” The Colonel radioed back.

“Crystal, Capt. Denys Kovalenko, over and out,” The captain transmitted his coordinates to Scout, signed off and raised a hand towards his lieutenant, making a gesture for the troops to begin pulling out.

Moments later, drones swooped by above them and dropped bombs on the encroaching horde, buying time and space for the soldiers and militia to board their own transports; the ships raised their shields to max output, and fired up their repulsor drives, lifting off as they left the burning city behind them.

Looking around, Michael Cortelloni saw that he had boarded the same airship with Uberman and Captain Khazan, who were holding conversation with each other as they did what they could to help medical staff and Sentinel healers tend to the wounded.

“So what’s next?” Captain Khazan asked grimly as he helped apply bandages to an injured civilian’s arm. “We’ve lost Sevarian City and now Xaelis too. If the enemy were to take New Xaelis as well, then Xaelon is as good as occupied.”

“That’s not happening, not on my watch,” Uberman replied firmly, “Tanin has shared with me a contingency plan devised by Elwin; three days into Operation Pavise, she has already arranged for a military division to be deployed there… They should be done fortifying the capital by the time we get there, and by the time we consolidate our forces, the bulk of the Khazan Armed Forces should have been mobilised for a massive counterattack. While we hold the line at New Xaelis, a task force will be assembled to infiltrate the Endless Caves and seek out Drekis himself. If we can eliminate Drekis, his legions will fold.”

“Good call,” Captain Khazan nodded, “Taking out Drekis himself will greatly cut down the number of casualties compared to fighting a protracted war with his empire.”

Uberman stared out of the window, towards the burning skyline of Xaelis as it grew increasingly distant. “They may have won this battle, but I won’t let them repeat this with New Xaelis and certainly not Khazan Prime! We’ll make them pay for their crimes.”

From where he sat, Michael also looked out of the window to watch the skyline of Xaelis fade into the distance, and as he overheard the conversation between Uberman and Captain Khazan the esper folded his arms and shook his head as he made a cynical comment under his breath, “That’s good and all for you guys, but it sure ain’t for me! I just want to find some place where I can keep my head down and wait for this entire shit to just blow over.”

 

Segment 51: Conversation Amidst the Corpses

It had been hours since the 2nd Battle of Xaelis, which saw the heavily-fortified old capital of Xaelon fall to the Drekis Empire. The once-bustling city had been reduced to a bombed-out ghost town, and the noise of battle long since replaced by a chilling silence. In the aftermath of the battle, Deimos, Jon Avalon and Korruptus strolled the grounds of the Old Presidential Palace, the grand building and its surrounding grounds surprisingly untouched by the fierce fighting compared to the rest of the city.

“I imagine His Eminence will be pleased to hear that we have made progress, now we can move on to the next stage of our campaign” Deimos remarked as he approached the main doors of the Old Palace building.

“Indeed,” Korruptus chorused as they entered the Old Palace – once the seat of the national government of Xaelis, but since converted into a museum and cultural attraction after the government shifted to New Xaelis. “Here’s hoping that taking New Xaelis wouldn’t take as long – Aigonis’ campaign in Araelis hinges on us occupying Xaelon first.”

“This world is a strong one, very strong,” Deimos mused as he examined various artefacts on display; from historical relics, to memorabilia left behind by past heads of state. “The heroes of Khazan have far exceeded our Archon’s estimations in terms of their power and tenacity. We may have accomplished our primary objective of taking Xaelis, but loose ends remain.”

“You’re right,” Jon chimed in as he stepped up next to Deimos, “Although the Sentinels and Khazanian military have officially pulled out of the Xaelis Metropolitan Area, our Scions have reported staunch pockets of resistance in the rural settlements in the Greater Xaelis Region… mostly unaligned heroes and various paramilitary groups.”

“They’re more of an annoyance than an actual threat, to be fair; a bunch of scrappy survivalists and circus clowns,” Deimos remarked, unperturbed by the reports. “But still, loose ends are loose ends, and I’m not about to leave them unattended.”

“I will have Korruptus and Kalia take care of that,” Jon remarked as he cast a glance at Korruptus, “See to it that all residual resistance in the surrounding region is put down.”

“I shall see to it, Magister,” Korruptus bowed, before leaving to rally his own warband of Drekis minions and Discordant Scions.

“There are some variables that were unaccounted for in His Eminence’s plans, but I have faith that as long as we stick to it, success is within our reach,” Jon continued, “And if our Archon’s claims are true, Khazan is where our lengthy crusade will finally come to an end… After centuries of bloodshed, we will finally reach our Promised Land.”

“Your words say one thing, but your tone suggests another,” Deimos said, a dry chuckle escaping his lips as he noticed the melancholic tone in Avalon’s voice.

Jon closed his eyes in deep thought, a wry smile on his face, “Let’s just say I am disappointed. I had the golden opportunity to cross swords with two of Khazan’s legends, yet I am unable to finish either duel. You of all people should know that few things bother me more than unfinished business.”

“Heh, I wouldn’t worry about that if I were you,” Deimos said as he turned around to walk out of the Old Palace, his black cape swaying in the supernatural breeze that always accompanied him, “For I predict many more opportunities lie ahead.”

 

To be Continued...

[Justin Law]

Onward to Chapter 5: Zel'Myas, City of The Marauders

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