War of Drekis, Rearmed - Chapter 11: The Finale Upon the Red Snow

[Justin Law]

Chapter 11: The Finale Upon the Red Snow

 

Segment 143: Eisen Faust

The blizzard grew colder and fiercer as though capable of empathic response to the situation as two armies marched towards each other on a collision course. The bestial cries and roars of the Drekis legion was met with silence from the advancing machine army. Both sides were antithetical in their nature – one organic, another mechanical, yet alike in their single-mindedness and inability to process pain or fear.

The robotic legion that marched forth from Fort WinterScar was not a uniform phalanx of purpose-built killing machines, but an eclectic mix of droids of varying makes and models that ranged anywhere from androids and gynoids with synthetic skin that could easily pass as humans, to floating surveillance probes no larger than a football, and all the way to massive utility bots the size of heavy construction vehicles, all refitted and reprogrammed for battle thanks to the Imperator program. 

Reflecting the eclectic nature of this robotic legion was an equally diverse arsenal. Heavy utility bots had their frames modified, reinforced with armour plating and shield generators, and fitted with tank guns, missile launchers, rail guns and beam cannons – transforming them into autonomous combat vehicles that fulfilled the roles of tanks, APCs or artillery pieces. Androids and gynoids marched forth with small arms in hand that ranged from state of the art electrolasers and pulsed plasma rifles, to tested-and-proven ballistic firearms such as M240B light machine guns and VHS-2 assault rifles, while droids that were too small to wield any military-grade firepower simply flew forward with drills, buzzsaws and laser cutters repurposed into CQB weapons.

The machine army positioned itself at the front, forming an impenetrable bulwark of advanced alloys standing between the advancing Drekis legion and the embattled forces of Uberman and General Yang. The automatons drew first blood as they opened fire at the incoming hordes, transforming the icy battlefield into a multicoloured light show as auto-lasers, pulsed plasma cannons, molecular disruptors and tesla cannons blazed away, cutting down the charging Deminites by the droves. In places where the beams passed close to the ground, the permafrost melted under the intense thermal emissions, exposing bare rock and soil for the first time in centuries.

Packs of Deminite Wolves scampered into the fray, eyes aglow with a baleful red light as they projected their fear auras. The machines, devoid of any physiological or mental capabilities to process fear, simply continued to advance without flinching – responding to the demonic quadrupeds’ bone-chilling howls by unleashing their own war cries from their voice synthesisers.

The robotic legion’s immunity to Deminite Wolves’ fear manipulation provided inspiration to the Khazanian troops – their spirits lifted by the cavalry’s arrival, many soldiers found themselves more successful at resisting the Deminite Wolves’ auras, which served to level the playing field for them as their feelings of hopelessness and despair diminished.

Deminite Soldiers and Reptillions that managed to survive the opening barrage of gunfire to push into close quarters battle raked at the droids with claws and slashed and stabbed at them with swords – but the automatons’ armoured frames proved highly resistant to such attacks. The machines proved to be just as lethal up close as they are at range; possessing strength that far exceeded the capabilities of baseline humans, they caved in Deminite skulls with punches and kicks and tore them apart. Some of the machines also repurposed their labour tools into implements of death – diamond-edged buzzsaws, laser cutters, and fusion arc welders were wielded with ruthless efficiency as the first wave of Drekis thralls folded under the machines’ relentless advance.

The consolidated troops under Uberman and General Yang’s command were no longer retreating; inspired by the actions of their cybernetic allies, the Khazanians took their stand. Vehicles aimed their gun turrets at the enemy, providing anti-personnel fire support in the form of heavy machine guns, autocannons and automatic grenade launchers, while rocket pods and mortars hammered away at heavies such as Devonoxes, Hive Guards and Tanker Beasts with explosive ordnance. Meanwhile, soldiers and Khazan Rangers disembarked from APCs and land-cruisers, their mood having taken a 180° turn – they joined the fray with renewed determination and clarity of purpose, seeking only one thing – to settle the ledger by avenging their comrades who fell at Walshin and New Xaelis.

All this was witnessed by Timothy Shinestar from the foothills of Mt. Aegis, his grip tightening around the handle of his heirloom sword as the blade glowed turquoise within its scabbard. The frigid environment no longer bothered the young Sentinel – this was in part due to the armoured cyber-suit he was now wearing, but in equal part it was also from the rising tide of emotions within him that he was fighting to hold back, lest the events of Mid-Gate repeat themselves.

A surge of righteous indignation pushed at him from within as a second wave of Drekis minions pushed forward, trampling over the dissolving remains of the first as they returned fire with volleys of firebolts. The androids staggered as they took the Deminite Soldiers’ incandescent projectiles head-on, the charred remains of their synthetic skin flaking off to reveal the mechanical components underneath. The automatons barely acknowledged the cosmetic damage as they soldiered on, blasting and smashing away.

Tim’s fury grew as the machines took their first losses when the Devonoxes joined the fray, an advancing wall of muscle and murderous intent. The hulking crimson-skinned brutes, spawned by the hive-fortresses for the express purpose of engaging mechs and armoured vehicles in direct combat and demolishing fortifications, shrugged off small-arms fire and overpowered the light-framed machines such as the human-type androids, ripping them apart, smashing them into the ground, or swinging them around to use as makeshift clubs against their fellow machines. It took every bit of discipline and willpower on the swordsman’s part to hold himself back from descending the slopes like an avalanche to slash and stab away at the demonic thralls below.

It was the gentle touch of a pair of warm hands – one resting on his shoulder, and another holding his hand that was clenched tightly around the grip of his sword – that brought the silver-haired Sentinel back to reality. 

Tim's grip on his weapon eased slightly as he turned his head to the side and found himself looking into the face of Raea – it was upon seeing his girlfriend’s smile that the young swordsman realised that a scant moment ago he was on the verge of losing himself a second time like he had on the ramparts of Mid-Gate, and it was Raea’s presence that tethered him to reality and calmed the storm of emotions inside him. 

“Remember, Timothy… we’re in this together. You and me,” Raea put her arms around Tim. 

Tim nodded as he returned Raea’s embrace, “I think I understood what came over me back then.” The silver-haired Sentinel leaned in, touching foreheads with the redhead as he remembered Uberman’s words on the ramparts when he was on the verge of a meltdown.

“Don’t think that this burden is yours to shoulder alone, or to act like you have to prove anything to anyone, do you understand?”

Those were the words Tim reflected on as he released his arms around Raea, “I desperately wanted to prove myself, to believe I could make a difference in that fight… so that I could be a true Sentinel like you and Uberman and the rest.”

“Silly Tim,” Raea gave an empathetic smile as she booped Tim on the nose. “You never had to prove anything to anyone, and above all, not to me.”

The redhead turned her gaze towards the battle being fought below, before giving Tim a firm pat on the shoulder and flashed him a confident smile, “So, how about you get your priorities right from now on and focus on what actually matters?” Raea winked as armour pieces extended from the collar of her battlesuit and snapped into place over the lower half of her face to form a protective mask. 

“I got it, get through this alive, and keep as many of our comrades alive as we can,” Tim returned Raea’s smile. He almost lost himself at New Xaelis due to his belief that he could save everyone; and while that fundamental desire hadn’t changed, the swordsman had learned to temper his expectations. 

Tiara announced her presence by resting her hands on their shoulders – one on Raea’s, another on Tim’s. “If it helps you any, know that you’ve more than proven yourself at this point. A lot of people have faith in you right now, even when they don’t know you.” The acolyte of the Powers That Be smiled as her gaze wandered to the Khazanian soldiers below, their morale at an unprecedented high due to the reinforcements from Fort WinterScar. While most of them will never know the names of the young Sentinels responsible for this godsend, there was no denying their appreciation for the act. 

“Thanks Tiara,” Tim gave the aeromancer a nod, his face radiating determination.

“Then what are we waiting for? Let’s dial things up a notch, shall we?” A vortex of air swirled around Tiara as she spread her arms out wide and tilted her head towards the sky, rising into the air with her eyes closed. The aeromancer’s eyes flashed open as she ascended high enough to give her a bird’s eye view of the battlefield below her. “Time to rock you like a hurricane!” With this jubilant declaration, Tiara raised her right index finger to point to the heavens.

In a formidable display of aeromancy, Tiara began redirecting the blizzard of the Frozen Wastes – the air currents moving with her gestures like an orchestra being led by a conductor. At the lavender-haired maiden’s cue, the Khazanian troops and their robotic allies would experience nothing more than a gentle breeze, while the Drekis legion would find themselves taking the blizzard’s unbridled fury. While the cold didn’t appear to cause any noticeable discomfort to the demonic thralls, the snowstorm proved instrumental at obscuring their vision as Deminite Soldiers fired blindly with their hellfire blasts, and Reptillions and Reavers stumbled around swinging wildly at thin air as they tried to locate targets.

Tim and Raea moved next, hitching rides on the backs of a pair of attack drones, side by side with each other, the automatons’ saucer-shaped top profiles allowing the battle couple to use them as makeshift hoverboards. As they flew over the heads of the Khazanian soldiers, a few of them pointed into the air, excitedly exclaiming that they recalled Uberman sending Tim and Raea ahead of the others to Fort WinterScar. Their brothers-in-arms within earshot quickly connected the dots, and responded to the couple passing by above them with triumphant cheers, hailing them as saviours and heroes.

The infantry moved behind the droids, as sharpshooters picked off strategic targets while mortar teams bombarded the rear lines of the Drekis legion. The soldiers were aware of the dangers that awaited them by rejoining the front line, but fortunately for them the thralls had their hands full dealing with the machine army. At the back, the KAF’s heavy artillery commenced another round of long-ranged bombardment with their self-propelled howitzers and MLRS trucks, raining anti-personnel canister shells and high-explosive rockets to thin out the enemy horde. 

The pudgy Deminite Gunners at the rearmost lines of the legion waddled forward to deliver counter-battery fire, crouching on all fours to launch arcing bolts of demonic plasma from the symbiotically-grafted organitech energy cannons, but the vehicles and heavy droids’ shield generators absorbed the first salvo with minimal damage. 

However, the machine legion had no intention of getting into an artillery shootout with the enemy. Barely noticeable amidst the chaos of the frenzied battlefield by friendlies and hostiles alike, swarms of tiny drones no larger than footballs flew close to the ground on antigravity disc arrays, sneaking past the enemy frontline to make their way to the rear. Once they reached the enemy artillery, the drones armed the antimatter charges housed within their frames and flew straight for the Deminite Gunners in a coordinated series of kamikaze attacks.

Tim and Raea looked at each other and nodded as they watched the distant explosions mushroom over the horizon. Syncing their movements, the two of them leapt off the backs of the drones and into the fray. Tim’s sword emitted an intense turquoise glow as the young Sentinel sailed through the air before diving straight into a horde of Deminite Soldiers and Reptillions, roaring a war cry as he thrust his heirloom weapon into the ground. An omnidirectional wave of energy exploded outwards like a supernova, sending dozens of Drekis minions flying through the air like ragdolls.

Raea descended seconds later, performing a backflip the magnetic clamps on her battlesuit released a pair of pulsed plasma pistols styled like submachine guns. The redheaded Sentinel performed a series of corkscrew twists in midair as she fired her pulsed plasma pistols, mowing down incoming Reavers and Deminite Soldiers before performing another flip just before she touched down on the ground. Raea tossed one of her plasma pistols into the air to free up her right hand to parry an incoming slash from a Deminite Soldier’s claws and countered with a point-blank headshot with her left plasma pistol, before finishing with a spartan kick to the dead Deminite’s midsection and caught her right plasma pistol on its way down, twirling it a few times.

Underneath her suit’s mask, Raea smiled as she stood back-to-back with Tim, also smiling confidently. Around them, the battle continued to rage, but neither she nor Timothy felt daunted by the overwhelming odds as the KAF continued to advance behind the WinterScar droids. The great counterattack had begun.

 

Segment 144: Uberman’s Decision

Inside the entry bay of the Behemoth, hydraulics groaned as the main door of the vehicle lowered itself to form a ramp for Uberman to disembark from the armoured land-cruiser. Scout rested his forearms against the handrails of a catwalk above, arms crossed as he leaned forward, glancing down towards the Sentinel leader, “Say Uberman, you think it’s still necessary for you to rejoin the frontline?”

Hearing Scout’s voice coming from above him, the cyborg lifted his head towards the catwalk, “Despite the fortuitous turn of events, you’ll have to forgive me for being skeptical, colonel. I know Jon Avalon well enough at this point that it would be folly to underestimate his resourcefulness and cunning – I cannot treat our victory or even survival as a foregone conclusion.” Uberman turned his gaze back towards the outside of the vehicle, “Besides, something tells me that Timothy and Raea are both somewhere on the frontline, fighting alongside the machines. It would be unbefitting of my status as the SLJ leader to be not present on the frontline while my fellow Sentinels are out there fighting.”

Scout gave a weary smile as he nodded; he’d expected such a reply from Uberman, “Yeah, go on and do whatever needs to be done… though I’d recommend lending your aid to General Yang’s forces by joining the aerial battle – those enhanced Bio-Fighters seem to be giving our Mechanised Squadrons one hell of a time.”

“That is a sensible course of action, colonel,” Uberman gave Scout a thumbs up as he continued towards the disembarking ramp, “On your end, you just need to maintain the current strategy, have the infantry advance under the cover of the machines, while delivering coordinated artillery strikes with the vehicles – with their Deminite Gunners eliminated, you no longer need to worry about counter-battery fire from the enemy.”

“You think it’s a good idea though?” Scout wondered, tapping the fingers of his cybernetic arm against the metal handrails as he recalled Uberman’s earlier point about underestimating Jon Avalon’s resourcefulness and adaptability. “I mean, to simply advance in one direction?”

Uberman paused as he glanced over his shoulder towards Scout, “You’ll only need to watch your west flank; to the south is Mt. Aegis, while to the east is a mountainous ridge – the enemy will need to navigate these obstacles if they were to flank your units from either the east or the south.”

There was a beat of silence as Scout went over Uberman’s words about the unlikelihood of the enemy attempting flanking manoeuvres due to the terrain, “Point taken, sir. May the hand of God guide us!” As Uberman turned around to walk away, the colonel’s eyes widened as he noticed something glinting on the back of the Sentinel leader’s armour. 

“Hold up for a moment, Uberman!” Scout yelled as he vaulted over the catwalk’s handrails to leap into the entry bay below and ran up to the cyborg. 

“What is it, colonel?” The cyborg wondered as he tried to turn around to face Scout, but the Ranger veteran held up his hand to gesture for Uberman to keep still. 

“One moment, please… There’s something on your armour, at the back,” Scout’s eyes narrowed with apprehension as he approached Uberman from the back. Nestled between the grilles of the cooling vents on the cyborg’s armour was a single jewelled earring. Using his utility knife, the colonel carefully pried the misplaced accessory loose and picked it up, placing it on the palm of hand to show it to Uberman. “Do you have any idea how this got onto your armour? Because I don’t think this thing has any business being here.” 

Uberman leaned in to get a closer look at the earring resting in the palm of Scout’s hand, “I have no idea… I can only guess someone must’ve planted this on me. But… who?” The earring didn’t look like something that would be worn by military personnel or by a Sentinel, so the cyborg could only assume it belonged to a civilian. 

“Call me paranoid, but my gut feeling tells me something is off about this,” Scout stared at the earring with a grave expression, his voice equally serious. “If you have any possible leads on who might’ve planted this on you – even if it’s just a hunch – you better spill ‘em.”

Uberman’s optics flashed a few times behind his faceplate as a memory flashback came over him. He recalled how, in a hurry to evacuate as many civilians as possible from New Xaelis, he’d picked up one civilian girl by the name of Maria Halesinger. “There was that young woman, almost a girl. I rescued her from the streets, and during the hurried evacuation of the capital she was among the civilians we crammed on board the Behemoth, she was wearing a pair of earrings identical to the one you’re holding” the cyborg recalled getting down on one knee to reassure Maria when commotion broke out among the civilians. 

“She must’ve planted it on you during that moment of close contact then,” Scout held up the earring between his thumb and index finger to examine it under the lights. 

“But why?” Uberman stared at Scout, “Unless she’s one of them…” 

“I’d wager that she’s one of those Drekis cultists known as the Discordant Scions,” Scout growled. “Know that they come from all walks of life and from dozens of different species, but every single one of them is fanatically devoted to Drekis… where is she now?”

Uberman rested his chin on the knuckles of his right hand, “When our contingent split off from General Yang’s division at Fort Abdiel, she was transferred to the airship fleet evacuating civilians to Khazan Prime; they’re probably reaching the Great Wall of Carnage at this point.”

“Shit…” Scout cursed through gritted teeth. Jon Avalon had set up the perfect bait for them – it was likely that the Magister was banking on the fact that Uberman’s instincts as a hero would kick in at the sight of a defenseless girl running down the streets being pursued by Deminites, and was counting on the Sentinel leader to just whisk her away without thinking of running any background checks during the heat of the moment. “What do you think planting this earring on you was going to accomplish?” 

“I have no idea,” Uberman shook his head in response as he ran a series of scans on the jewelled earring using his armour’s sensors, “Sensors picked an anomalous energy reading on this thing, but it doesn’t match those of any electronic device.”

“My best guess is that it’s some kind of magical analogue to a bug, then,” Scout glared at the accessory once more, his voice laced with venom, “I’m just a simple soldier, and magic is admittedly something that’s outside of my sphere of expertise, but my instincts are seldom wrong.”

“That’s why I’m taking no chances,” the colonel pinched the earring between the thumb and index finger of his cybernetic arm. With hardly any effort, the gem in the earring cracked and broke under the crushing force. “As soon as long-distance comms are re-established, I am contacting the Central Government to run an investigation on the refugees they’ve taken in from New Xaelis – birth records, bank accounts, anything that can trace the background of that Maria Halesinger.”

With that, Scout flicked his wrist and dropped the remains of the earring onto the floor as he returned to the Behemoth’s bridge. 

Uberman said nothing, except to take one final look at the shattered remains of the accessory before exiting the land-cruiser to step onto the battlefield, the exit ramp lifting up once more to close off the entry bay as soon as the cyborg disembarked.

 

Segment 145: Exposed

 

“What…?” A tingling sensation akin to a mild electric shock snapped Maria awake from her nap as the gem on her remaining earring – worn on the left – glowed brightly for a split second, before suddenly shattering with a barely audible pop, the event unnoticed by her fellow passengers. 

For minutes, Maria sat in complete stillness and silence. How long, she could not tell for certain – but the Discordant Scion figured it was at least ten minutes before her hand wandered towards her left earlobe and carefully removed the now gemless accessory, holding it in her palm and staring at it for another good minute or so. 

“Looks like I’ve been exposed,” Maria’s voice was a faint whisper that was audible to no-one but herself. The gem on her left earring suddenly shattering could only mean one thing – that the matching accessory that she’d planted hours ago on Uberman had met the same fate.

What surprised Maria Halesinger wasn’t that the artifact was discovered, it was how quickly they figured out what it does. The fact that they responded to its discovery by destroying it meant that they must have intuited that she’d bugged their conversations. Part of her wished she could’ve listened in on more conversations between Scout and Uberman and to reveal more of their plans to Jon Avalon through Gellan.

But in the end, Maria reasoned that she’d played her role as a spy well and long enough at this point. As the civilian airship continued on its journey towards Khazan Prime, passing over the Great Wall of Carnage on its flight, it was her cue to shed the mantle of an informant, and to take up that of a sleeper agent. 

She had no doubt that Uberman and Scout would be looking for ways to contact the Central Government of Khazan Prime, to conduct checks on her background. But as far as she was concerned, ‘Maria Halesinger’ was just one of the many names she’d gone by over the centuries on over a dozen different worlds.

By the time the Sentinel leader was able to re-establish long-distance contact with the Central Government, she’d be comfortably settled in Khazan City, living under a new identity. 

For a while, Maria contemplated the possibilities of what kind of cover identity she’d assume once she arrived in the capital. The Scion entertained the possibility of taking on one that would allow her to experience wild nights in Khazan City, to indulge herself in vice and pleasure, spending drunken nights with rich and powerful men who’d see her as an attractive social escort. It would be perfect for getting close to Khazan’s political and financial elites to gather important information from them before quietly assassinating them, and have fun while doing so. 

For nearly half an hour, the Discordant Scion was lost in her fantasies before her disciplined side as an agent pulled her back to reality, and she became more aware of her surroundings. The first thing that caught her attention was a family seated right next to her, consisting of a husband and wife and a young son of about six, with the husband reassuring his family that they were starting a new life in Khazan City. 

The boy looked in Maria’s direction, smiled and waved. Maria said nothing, except to look back at the boy and reciprocate the gesture, putting on a disarmingly friendly smile as she waved at him. 

Maria pocketed what’s left of the earring inside her hoodie, before raising the hood over her head. Before she could officially commence her role as a sleeper agent, she had one last mission as Jon Avalon’s informant as she leaned back in her seat and made one final telepathic transmission to Gellan. No doubt, the Magister would find her last report useful, and deep inside she wished that this would be what he needed to accomplish a decisive victory over the enemy. 

 

Segment 146: The Flame of Saramach

Deep in the Endless Caves, a tall and slim figure walked alone through the titanic chamber that housed Drekis’ citadel of Kaoscendo-Khazan, garbed in a cloak, deep crimson as dried blood, with the hood up and obscuring most of the stranger’s face from view as they walked past the blazing forges and pulsating hives with nothing but a burning torch in hand.

Alerted by the presence of an intruder, Deminite Soldiers growled at the stranger like guard dogs, claws raised and fangs bared as he continued to make his way towards The Citadel with an unhurried, almost casual pace. Meanwhile, the Deminite Soldiers continued to growl and maintain a battle-ready stance – but not a single one moved in to attack, a peculiar pattern break in the Deminites’ usual tendency to attack intruders on sight, without any hesitation. 

As the hooded figure drew ever closer towards the gates of Kaoscendo-Khazan, the number of Drekis minions following him grew. Thralls of all shapes and sizes ranging from Reavers to Devonoxes shadowed the interloper, glaring, growling and hissing as they postured threateningly, but none ever committed themselves to attacking.

The commotion caught the attention of a group of Discordant Scions, who quickly stopped whatever they were doing to confront the intruder. A wall of guns greeted the hooded figure as the Scions assembled in front of the gates and raised their weapons – an eclectic medley of projectile and energy weapons ranging from AK-74 assault rifles to looted KOMBG pulsed plasma rifles. 

“I don’t know who you are, or how you got past all the thralls, but you are not getting into His Eminence’s sanctum!” One of the Discordant Scions acted as the guard contingent’s spokesman – a man in his late twenties with a shaved head and a jagged scar running along his left cheek, dressed like his compatriots in a patchwork array of scavenged KAF body armour, militia fatigues and civilian hunting apparel. 

“I seek audience with Drekis,” the hooded figure’s reply was calm and to the point; despite having a horde of Drekis minions stalking behind them and a phalanx of Discordant Scions facing them with weapons raised, the stranger handled their current situation with all the banality of a simple grocery shopping trip as they continued forward, torch in hand. 

“Ha! Do you think I’m stupid or what?” the scar-faced Scion sneered, never taking his index finger outside of the trigger guard of his HK416 A5. “If His Eminence was expecting guests, don’t you think Magister Relinqiest would’ve informed us ahead of time?”

“Don’t shoot me, I’m just a messenger,” the interloper waved his torch slightly, phrasing his line in a way that sounded less like pleading for his life, but rather a blunt statement of facts.

The Discordant Scion spat on the ground as he stared daggers at the stranger, “Enough with the farce, die!” The Scion’s aggression turned quickly to confusion and then complete disbelief as his body refused to respond – as if hijacked by an unknown force, the Discordant Scion’s finger rested against his weapon’s trigger, ready to open fire but refusing to commit to the action as the hooded figure walked past him.

“What are you waiting for? Just shoot him!” Another Scion yelled, training her pulsed plasma rifle on the stranger.

“You think I don’t want to!? I fucking wished I could!” The scar-faced Scion grunted through clenched teeth as he fought against his own body to try and pull the trigger on his weapon. “It… it’s as if my body won’t obey me!”

“What… is this foul sorcery!?” The female Discordant Scion exclaimed as she found herself facing the same predicament – every single Scion present on the scene attested to the same as they kept their weapons trained on the interloper, but some unknown force kept them from ever carrying out their threats.

A smirk appeared on what little could be seen of the stranger’s face under their hood as they ignored the Discordant Scions and sauntered through the gates. Inside the hallways and chambers of Kaoscendo-Khazan, the same scene replayed itself as Drekis minions and Discordant Scions threw themselves at the stranger to block the hooded figure’s advance – only to find themselves unable to take any kind of violent actions against the intruder, who casually continued past them.

“Impressive that you’ve gotten this far,” Relinqiest stood at the far end of the antechamber leading into Drekis’ throne room, the Magister’s voice echoing off the walls as he stepped out of the shadows, the crystal skull topping his wizard staff emitting an ominous red glow. “I’ve been observing your antics – and I know how you managed to get past all the guards.”

“Oh?” Underneath the stranger’s hood, a smile appeared on what little was visible of their face, “Seems like this one is a cut above the others.”

“You used a passive-effect binding geas… in some circles they refer to this as Diplomatic Immunity,” The archmage stared coldly at the stranger as he raised his staff, pointing the glowing crystal skull accessory at them, “As long as you bear no harmful intent towards those within its area of effect, they cannot take any violent actions against you.”

A monotonous laugh issued from beneath the stranger’s cowl, “Spot on… as expected of a Magister of Drekis. That being said, why would I harbour any ill-will? All I seek is an audience with your Archon.”

Relinqiest’s eyes narrowed with apprehension as he glared at the intruder, his grip tightening on his staff, “His Eminence never told me he was expecting a guest, otherwise there wouldn’t have been a commotion in the first place. Know that nobody seeks the Eminent One out; they only come to Him when He summons them. So tell me, just who are you and what business do you seek with His Eminence?”

The confrontation between Relinqiest and the stranger was cut short when out of the blue, Drekis spoke up. “Let him through, Relinqiest,” Drekis’ voice reverberated through the door separating the antechamber and his throne room to echo off the surrounding walls. “He is a special guest I’ve been expecting.” At the Chaos Archon’s statement, a dull scraping noise echoed through the room as the umbricite doors began to part, revealing Drekis’ throne room beyond.

With some reluctance, Relinqiest stepped aside to allow the hooded figure to pass, but as they stepped into Drekis’ throne room, the Magister followed the stranger in – his intense gaze following their every move like a hawk. The message couldn’t be clearer; just because the stranger was Drekis’ guest doesn’t mean Relinqiest trusted them immediately, and he would see to it that the stranger refrained from doing anything impulsive or stupid while in the presence of his Archon, and offered Drekis his due respect.

The light from the floating lanterns that illuminate the amphitheatre-like chamber changed from yellow-white to a ghostly blue as Relinqiest and the hooded figure stood before Drekis’ throne, as the Archon of Chaos materialised in the form of a thick cloud of gray smoke that poured into the throne room through a series of hidden vents. The gray smoke shrouded the umbricite throne, and within it materialised a black silhouette resembling a coiled serpent; a pair of red eyes opened on Drekis’ silhouette, casting a baleful gaze at the stranger.

“Who is it that seeks an audience with Drekis? Well, here I am,” Like a choir from hell, Drekis’ multi-toned voice echoed through his throne room, sounding like it came from everywhere and at the same time nowhere.

“I suppose it’s time I introduced myself then,” the stranger bowed, and lifted his free hand towards his head to lower his cowl. The stranger’s face was now in full view – that of a middle-aged man with shoulder-length white hair and pale blue eyes the colour of aquamarine. The right side of the man’s face appeared normal – pale-skinned with a slight waxy sheen; but the left side of his face was anything but normal; the skin was desiccated, with a texture resembling parchment, stretched taut over his skull and cheekbones, the eyelid, lips and ear cartilage having shrivelled away, making that side of his face resemble an ancient, mummified corpse.

“I am Ashvaraad Torchbearer, the Flame of Saramach – and I humbly apologise for intruding on your domain; this diplomatic mission my liege has sent me on was admittedly an impromptu one,” Ashvaraad smiled as he bowed again before Drekis.

“Saramach… now that is a name I haven’t heard in a long time,” Drekis’ red eyes glowed brighter as his gaze wandered to the torch held in Ashvaraad’s hand. “So tell me, Torchbearer… What message do you bring from Lord Saramach? Be quick about it, lest I grow tired of your presence and return you to the dust from whence you came.”

Without a word, Ashvaraad got down on one knee and lowered his torch, touching the floor with its lit end to create a bonfire. As the Flame of Saramach rose to his feet and stepped back, the bonfire surged in intensity with an audible whoosh, erupting into a twenty-foot column of flames as its colour changed from orange to a sickly green.

In the heart of the blaze, the vision of a regal-looking man was projected – tall and possessing a wiry build, the man was dressed in what looked like the ceremonial robes and mantle of an ancient monarch, with long flowing hair that reached down to his waist. His facial features were a combination of contrasts – the outline of his jaw and chin were round and soft in an almost feminine way, while his nose and eyes possessed a masculine sharpness.

The man in the vision raised his right hand, “Hark, great and mighty Drekis! Unto thee good tidings I, High Lord Melfyre Saramach bring! At long last the scions of Selegon hath reunited, for me, providence it is to learn!”

Relinqiest’s eyes went wide with incredulity as he stared at the vision of Lord Saramach, then at Drekis. He’d heard Drekis mention the name Selegon every now and then, but the Magister never thought that both Drekis and Saramach shared a common origin via Selegon. “Selegon, you say?”

“Interesting,” Drekis’ serpentine form shifted slightly as arcs of white and red lightning crackled around him, “I’ve heard of the name Saramach through my old master’s fragmented memories which I have absorbed into myself, but seeing the undead of Saramach with my own eyes just confirms that Selegon’s legacy endures.” 

“Selegon was your master?” Relinqiest found it hard to believe that Drekis could at any point in his existence have served anyone else other than himself. 

“On a second thought, ‘predecessor’ would be a more accurate way of putting it,” Drekis coiled around his throne, his body rippling as it went into a state of flux. “He was the last Archon of Chaos, and I was not so much his underling but rather, a peer whom he saw as worthy of passing the mantle of Archonhood onto. He is no longer relevant in the grand scheme of things, his consciousness long extinguished after I absorbed his divine essence and memories.”

The vision of Melfyre Saramach continued his speech, “Born in a long-forgotten epoch the Saramach were, when Selegon wageth war against the Powers That Be to determine the fate of Khazan! One of the tribes of Firstborn we were, built great cities and composed epics we did, when nothing but bestial tree-dwellers humanity were – but for the simple act of choosing Selegon over the Powers during the Genesis War, spurneth as degenerate and blasphemous by the rest of the Firstborn, we were!” 

“Vieweth our free will as a cardinal sin, the Powers did, and upon our fledgling civilisation their wrath fell! Left in destitution and ruin, our cities were, while the other tribes of Firstborn such as the Elves and Myrzilions went on to found prospering nation-states,” The vision of Melfyre Saramach was replaced by a different vision, depicting a scene of Biblical-scale destruction as the marble and crystal spires of the old Saramach capital toppled under a relentless storm of flaming rocks and lightning bolts descending from the skies, while the oceans surged and swamped the city streets. 

The vision in the flames changed again, replaced with one of then-mortal Melfyre Saramach from the distant past as he rallied the armies of Saramach against the Powers That Be. The High Lord stood atop a hill, decked out in an ornate set of battle armour, his head adorned by a matching war crown as he held his sword high above his head, roaring his defiance of the Powers. In response, the wizards and warriors of the Saramach assembled below him roared with approval as they waved their weapons in the air and drummed on their shields. “Took up arms in fury we did, against the Powers That Be our armies marched. For our rebellion, punished we were! Of curses and plagues, the Powers That Be calleth down, killeth off what remained of our race slowly but surely!”

The fire vision shifted to depict a scene from the aftermath of Lord Saramach’s ill-fated military campaign – the already-devastated city appeared even more ruined now; men, women and even children alike writhed in agony amidst the rubble, their bodies covered in hideous boils and sores and racked with agony as they coughed up blood from their supernatural afflictions. Children spent their final breaths crying in pain for which there is no relief before dying in their parents’ arms, who did not even have the strength left to bury their dead before they too succumbed to the plague, while Melfyre Saramach himself – stricken with the same affliction – could only watch from the ruins of his palace as he wept bitter tears. 

The fire vision shifted to a scene of the deceased citizens of Saramach, rising one by one from the dead. Last to rise from the dead was Lord Saramach himself – the High Lord looking in undeath much like he did in life – with the only differences being his once fair skin had turned pale as marble with glowing green veins running under his skin; while his eyes, once sporting electric-blue irises – were now pearl-white orbs devoid of sclerae, irises or pupils. “End of the story, it would’ve been – were it not for the intervention of our Lord and Saviour; Selegon forsakes not His faithful! By the grace of Selegon, saved us from oblivion He hath by reuniting the lifeless husks of our mortal forms with our vengeful spirits! But alas, even with the powers granted to us by our new, undead forms, mere insects we were compared to as our Lord and His adversaries! Watch from the sidelines we could only, as the celestials collideth; destroyed during their titanomachy one of Khazan’s moons was!”

The vision of present-day Lord Saramach continued his narration of Khazan’s ancient history, “But alas, endeth in Selegon’s defeat and exile from the Nexus, the Genesis War had. Into hiding we could only go – into the Great Ocean the shattered remains of the moon fell, continent of Denes’Takai they became. Claimed Denes’Takai as our new home we did, in the shadows we lurketh, a time to strike back, we waited.”

“Departed from the Nexus, the Powers That Be eventually did, to pursue unknown projects in realms beyond, they desired. Poetic justice it was for us to learn, that bereft of the guidance of the Powers, into decadence and complacency the other Firstborn fell! Grew in strength with each passing century we did, while turned on one another the other Firstborn tribes had! By the time we put into motion our master plan, millennia in the making, a pale shadow of their former self the Firstborn were, and their ascent upon the face of Khazan was humanity making,” the vision of Lord Saramach smirked, still relishing the downfall of Firstborn even after countless millennia.

“The memories I absorbed from Selegon are admittedly badly fragmented, but everything you’ve told me so far lines up with my predecessor’s memory fragments,” Drekis nodded during a short intermission as the vision of Lord Saramach gave the Archon time to process the information.

The vision of Lord Saramach posed dramatically with his arms as he continued, “Long-anticipated renaissance of the Saramach the Age of Eternal Night was! A measure of vengeance we managed to exact; blacketh out the sun with our dark arts we did, and on what is known today as Xaelon we established our second stronghold! But alas, not to last the glory days were. The intervention of the Cosmic Precepts, we had not expected. From amongst the humans the Archon of Light was appointed, and from the stars descended the Archon of Order! Forever sealed by the Archons beneath ice, our second stronghold was. And into exile a second time we went.”

With that, the fire vision shifted as the visage of Lord Saramach was momentarily replaced by a vision of Tanin, the Archon of Light, along with that of what appeared to be an attractive, youthful-looking woman whose facial features were inexplicably obscured. The vision of Lord Saramach reappeared, “Thy advent on Khazan, providence it is! It is a sign that even from beyond the grave, His faithful Selegon continues to bless! What Selegon started with His hands ages ago, by the hands of Drekis will be finally finished. Even as we speak, the armies of Saramach stand ready for war as our armada sets sail for Cretalia! I believe that this will work to our mutual benefit, for I believe your own legions have Cretalia in their sights.”

Drekis slithered from his throne in his serpentine form as he sized up Ashvaraad and the vision of Lord Saramach with his gaze, “Do not be so presumptuous to think that I am the second coming of Selegon just because I have absorbed his memories and inherited his position as Archon of Chaos – Selegon is Selegon, and Drekis is Drekis…” Drekis’ eyes narrowed, their red glow dimming a notch, “But, on account of our shared connections to Selegon and the Khazanians being our common adversary, I think our interests overlap.”

“So you would seek an alliance with the Saramach Empire?” the eye on Ashvaraad’s human side twinkled with excitement.

“Yes, but hear my terms,” Drekis slithered up to the vision of Lord Saramach, “Know this, I seek not the partnership of Saramach, but his submission! The Saramach Empire shall cede its sovereignty, and Melfyre himself will have to answer to me as his suzerain. If you accept these terms, then I look forward to the day our forces march towards Khazan City as one. If not, then stay out of my way.”

The vision of Lord Saramach smiled as Drekis laid out his terms for a Drekis-Saramach alliance, folding his arms over his chest, “Anticipated these terms I have, when I sent Ashvaraad out – nothing but my full acceptance, thou shalt have,” Melfyre glanced towards Ashvaraad and nodded.

“It shall be done, my liege,” The Flame of Saramach bowed to Melfyre before reaching under his cloak to retrieve a scroll to unfurl it. A quick read of its contents revealed it to be a promise by High Lord Melfyre Saramach to unconditionally commit the resources and military of the Saramach Empire to Drekis’ cause, closing off with Melfyre’s signature next to a wax seal bearing a stamped emblem of House Saramach.

“So be it,” Drekis declared as his eyes glowed brighter, and two pencil-thin beams of red light shot from them to hit an area on the scroll next to Melfyre’s signature and wax seal. As Drekis shut off his eye beams, it was revealed that next to Saramach’s signature was Drekis’ signature, along with a wax seal bearing the Drekis Empire’s coat of arms as a sign of formalising the alliance between Drekis and Saramach.

Both Lord Saramach and Ashvaraad smiled as they examined the scroll. While Torchbearer rolled up the scroll to tuck it back under his cloak, Melfyre turned to address Drekis, “At thy disposal, the forces of Saramach are. I do not see a future for the Saramach Empire any other way, but unbeatable together, we are,” with that, the pillar of green flame dissipated, leaving only Drekis, Reliqiest and Ashvaraad in the throne room. 

“And with this, it’s high time I returned to Lord Saramach’s side,” Ashvaraad nodded as he pulled his hood back up. But before the Torchbearer left Kaoscendo-Khazan, he would bow before Drekis one last time, “One more thing, Lord Drekis… another one of Saramach’s representatives will seek an audience with you in the near-future, a man known as Attragon. While he is not of the undead, he has dwelt on Denes’Takai among us Saramach for millennia, and Lord Saramach believes that his service will prove invaluable to your cause.”

 

Segment 147: Avalon’s Persistence

Of all the places in Khazan that Regulus Morikai hated setting foot on, the Frozen Wastes was easily on the top of his list as he kept his arm over his face on a near-constant basis to keep the blizzard out of his eyes. If given a choice, he would’ve chosen to focus on consolidating the Drekis Empire’s hold over what was once New Xaelis. Unfortunately, Jon Avalon’s orders left no room for reinterpretation. The Magister was unambiguous with his instructions, that Regulus was to report directly to him – wherever he may be – once he’d finished his task of delivering the corrupted MARS to Relinqiest. And Regulus knew that a Magister's orders were not to be contested, not even – or rather, especially not – by senior Scions like himself. 

The high-ranking Discordant Scion had hoped that would mean participating in the final siege on New Xaelis, but Jon had moved past even that. The remnants of New Xaelis’ defenders had pulled out of the fallen capital and retreated northwest into the Frozen Wastes, and for reasons beyond Regulus’ grasp, the Magister has seen it fit to lead a legion into the Frozen Wastes with the intent of finishing off the enemy once and for all. As much as Regulus hated this assignment, he did not begrudge Jon for issuing this order. Rather, he reserved his hate solely for the Khazanians whose persistence had led him straight into this accursed winter wasteland. 

Regulus ascended to the top of a ridge overlooking the battle between Jon Avalon’s legion and the Khazan Armed Forces, backed up by a legion of robots from Fort WinterScar. The spectacle unfolding below him was a disgrace to behold – the Drekis legions were being beaten back by the machines! However, on seeing that the Magister still had reserves, Regulus was confident that he and his regiment had not joined the battle too late to make a difference, that victory was still within reach if he could send in his regiment alongside Avalon’s reserves.

As Regulus observed the ongoing battle, he took note of the aberrations in the local weather. The blizzard behaved in ways that defied natural weather patterns as the snowstorm appeared to move around the Khazanians and their mechanical allies, while the Drekis legion bore the full fury of the elements. Witnessing this scene only deepened the Discordant Scion’s animus towards the Khazanians; such grand feats of meteorological control should only be possible through Chaos magic! The fact that the Khazanian infidels were able to do so without the use of Chaos magic was foul blasphemy in Regulus’ eyes. 

“What brings you here, Regulus?” A familiar but grating voice assailed Regulus’ ears. Turning in the direction of said voice, Regulus broke into a scowl as he caught sight of the hooded figure of Morlos Gao, who saw it fit to interrogate his fellow high-ranking Discordant Scion on coming to the Frozen Wastes.

“That is a question best reserved for yourself, Morlos,” Regulus delivered his clapback to the dark mage with a stern glare, “Were you not assigned as a Marauder mole? Or did you somehow fail such a simple assignment?” the armour-clad Scion sneered as he waited for what excuses Morlos could come up with. 

Morlos chuckled dryly at Regulus’ jab, a grin spreading on what little of his face could be seen under his hood, “On the contrary, Mr. Morikai. There was no further need for me to continue my cover identity as a Marauder underboss – don’t tell me you never heard of what happened to Zel’Mier all those weeks ago? Or has trying to carry out Magister Avalon’s orders given you a case of tunnel vision?”

“Tch, still, I do not recall Jon ever issuing orders for you to participate in this battle,” Regulus folded his arms in front his armour-clad chest. “If your mission in Zel’Mier is finished, you could instead return to The Citadel to await new assignments from our Archon, instead you come all the way here… why?”

Beneath his hood, Morlos rolled his eyes and shrugged, “As you can see, I am someone who believes in going above and beyond in order to fulfill His Eminence’s grand vision… not like some others, who does only the bare minimum of what is expected of them. Makes me wonder then, could this be why you remain a mere Discordant Scion after nearly a century of service, hmm?”

“Why you…” Regulus bared his teeth as he stepped forward, thrusting himself right into Morlos’ personal space as his face hovered mere inches away from the dark mage’s own. For a moment, the Discordant Scion raised his mailed fists, intent on seizing his fellow Scion by the collar of his robe. Regulus took a few deep breaths to calm himself down before stepping back, realising the futility of a heated debate with Morlos. “Forget it, just try not to get in my way when the fighting starts,” and with that, Regulus walked off to continue looking for Jon Avalon, but not without shoulder-checking Morlos along the way.

But for reasons Regulus Morikai could not fathom, Morlos continued to shadow him, keeping pace with the knight-like Scion as he walked next to him. “Actually, I joined this battle for a chance to meet a person of interest,” the dark mage gave a sly smile as he glanced over at Regulus.

“And who might that be?” Regulus snorted, and despite most of his face being hidden in shadow by his cowl, he swore Morlos was winking at him.

“You see, back during the battle of Zel’Myas I fought the Sentinels when they escaped Marauder custody – it was there that I met a young man with an interesting weapon; it was a sword with a peculiar design, with a blade that emitted a turquoise light,” Morlos Gao twiddled his fingers as though he were fumbling with a hot potato as he recounted the events of the Sentinels’ prison break and the ensuing street battles with the Marauders. “I never got a chance to actually test him in battle, but something tells me that his death or capture will be something that will please His Eminence greatly.”

Regulus froze in his steps and stared at Morlos while twisting the hairs of his white goatee, “And why tell me about this?”

“I suppose it’s a part of me that longs for some competition,” Morlos snickered, rubbing his hands together. “After all, your ambition is no secret among the Scions – I’m offering you a chance to earn favour in our Archon’s eyes. Who knows? This might just be what you need to finally earn that spot amongst the Einherjar you so coveted.”

Regulus held up a gauntlet-clad hand, placing its palm a few inches away from Morlos’ face in a gesture for him to talk to the hand, “Keep your hypotheses to yourself, Morlos. All that matters to me is ensuring that Magister Avalon’s orders are carried out to the letter – not waste time going after some greenhorn. He’s all yours if you think he’s so important to our Archon’s cause. Just don’t get in my way during the battles!” 

Morlos gave a sigh of mock disappointment, “Well, suit yourself then. Best watch your back out there though, or you might find yourself out of a job soon.” At that, Morlos performed a set of somatic gestures for a spell as a circle of glowing sigils hovered around him and the dark mage vanished into his own shadow.

“What a detestable being,” Regulus muttered under his breath. Among the various Discordant Scions, Einherjar and Magisters that he’d worked alongside with in the Drekis Empire, few could grind Regulus’ gears more than Morlos Gao. The dark mage’s attitude reminded him of the competitive egomania held by many financial oligarchs. But it was this exact mindset that made him such a skilled infiltrator in industrialised societies such as Khazan – Morlos thought he was so much more than just a spy, but as far as Regulus was concerned, he felt that this was as far as Morlos’ abilities went. But if their earlier exchange was any indicator, trying to shatter his delusions of grandeur proved to be an exercise in futility.

Eventually, Regulus found Avalon at the highest point of the ridge, the familiar silhouette of his draconic mount Zegrin looming into view against the blizzard, next to the giant leonine silhouette of Gellan – the snowstorm prevented the Discordant Scion from seeing the battle raging below, but he could tell it was intense from the near-constant cacophony of gunfire and flashes of light cutting through the gray from distant explosions and energy weapons being fired. “Magister Avalon, your humble servant has responded to your summons as fast as he could!” Regulus rushed over to Jon’s proximity and got down on one knee in respect. “Send me to your enemies, so that I may paint the landscape red with their blood!” 

“Silence, fool,” Kalia strutted over to Regulus with a condescending smirk on her face, the  Harbinger’s silken sashes swaying in the wind as she gave the Discordant Scion a dismissive wave. “You should know better than to interrupt our Magister when he’s holding a telepathic conference with one of our agents. Know your place, and wait for our lord to finish before addressing him.”

Korruptus stood next to Jon Avalon, arms folded across his chest as watched the exchange between Regulus and Kalia in silence. While the minotaur-like Apostle refrained from joining the Harbinger in verbally cutting down the Scion, the disapproving shake of his horned head was all the indication that Regulus needed to know that he too did not look favourably upon the knight’s interruption. 

‘To think that such a comely face and body is packaged together with such a repulsive attitude,’ Regulus thought, keeping his head low so that Kalia would not notice the grimace on his face – knowing that seeing his expression would only give the Harbinger more incentive to take more jabs at him. Such was Kalia’s personality – her love for getting a rise out of others was a well-regarded trait that made her infamous among her colleagues. Regulus could only seethe at the Harbinger’s hypocrisy; for all the talk about showing respect to their superior, Regulus knew that deep down, Kalia respected no-one, not even Jon Avalon. Her deference towards the Magister was wholly performative – a self-serving transaction to earn favours through flattery and sweet-talk. Such was how she worked her way up the ranks of Drekis’ devotees from a simple Discordant Scion, to the esteemed ranks of the Einherjar, where she currently serves as Harbinger to Jon Avalon. 

“It would seem that this is all the intel that Maria could gather,” Jon slowly opened his eyes as he took his hand off Gellan’s head. “The enemy is led to believe that we will attack them head-on from the south, and factored the possibility that we could flank them from the west,” the Magister pointed in the direction of a distant mountain ridge, a cold smirk forming on his face. “Apparently, they ruled out the possibility of being flanked from the east because their leaders thought that to attack from that direction, a regiment will have to either need to climb over or go around the mountains, which would be unfeasible for this battle… and thus assumed we would commit everything to attacking from the south and west. So, let’s prove them wrong, shall we?”

Korruptus demonstrated his eagerness to commence battle by stomping the ground with his hooved feet and flexing his muscles, “Do you have a strategy, Magister Avalon? Tell us your brilliant plan!” the minotaur-like Apostle snorted, jets of steam blasting from his nostrils.

“Simple, for now Kalia and I are going to play along with the enemy’s plan; let them have their moment of false security, I will lead the legion in a head-on assault from the south, while Kalia’s will lead a smaller detachment to circle around and strike from their west at my cue,” Jon smiled coyly as he held up his right hand, index finger pointed up. The Magister gave his raised finger a playful wag. “Korruptus, you will circle around to the eastern ridge with your detachment.”

Korruptus scratched his head in bewilderment, raising an eyebrow, “Forgive me, Avalon… I don’t get it. You are putting a good chunk of your legion out of action as I lead them either over the ridge or around it. Your legion will be left significantly shorthanded during that time…”

Jon chuckled icily as he wagged his right index finger side to side, shaking his head, “Oh no, my faithful Apostle… I do not expect you to go around the mountain or over it. Your order is to tunnel right through it. I expect it to be far more labour-intensive than either climbing over it or going around it, but it will take far less time, and imagine the shock the Khazanians will get when an attack comes from a direction they never expected.”

“Oho! Fucking diabolical!” Korruptus’ nostrils flared as his eyes glinted with excitement as the dots connected in his mind. “No wonder you chose me for this task, I happen to have the skillset that’s best suited for the task! I will not fail you!” The Apostle pounded his fist twice against his mighty pecs before snatching up his signature axe-hammer from the ground and bellowing at the thralls assigned to him to rally them before marching off towards their assignment.

A pout scrunched up Kalia’s face as the Harbinger heard the arrangements. It lasted for a mere fraction of a second before she tried to play it off by going back to her ice queen persona, standing next to Jon with her hands casually resting on her hips, a mirthless smile on her lips. Inwardly, Kalia continued to chafe as she thought that given Korruptus’ assignment, he was destined to be the MVP for this campaign. ‘I can’t believe that meathead is going to steal the spotlight just like that!’ Kalia grumbled in her thoughts as she stole another glance towards Korruptus’ regiment.

A familiar hand resting on Kalia’s shoulder pulled the Harbinger out of her train of thought, glancing to her side, Kalia found that Jon had gotten off Zegrin’s saddle to stand next to her, a gentle hand resting on her bare shoulder. The perceived intimate contact elicited a kitten-like purr from Kalia as she held onto Jon’s wrist and tilted her head to nuzzle her cheek against his hand.

“Do you think I assigned you to lead a simple flanking manoeuvre?” The Magister’s enquiry lit a spark inside Kalia, who quickly realised Jon was testing her. “Noticed how the weather itself seemed to be on the enemy’s side, my dear Harbinger?” Jon gently but firmly nudged Kalia’s face away from his hand to lift it off her shoulder and point towards where the fighting was at its fiercest.

“The way the blizzard is moving; it’s like it’s avoiding the Khazanians’ positions, while engulfing our own forces,” Kalia’s dichromatic eyes narrowed as she observed the movements of the snowstorm. Despite the Harbinger’s lack of anything resembling a proper outfit – all that clothed her lithe and shapely form were the silk sashes that wound around her body serving as a makeshift bikini – the supernatural chill and the ferocious blizzards of the Frozen Wastes hardly bothered the Harbinger. The were however, proving problematic to the lesser minions; Deminite Soldiers had to expend more energy just to get their hellfire blasts off, Hunter-Killers had their aim thrown off, and melee-oriented thralls such as Reavers and Devonoxes stumbled around, partially blinded. “...My deduction would be that this is not natural. Someone or something allied with the Khazanians is manipulating the local weather.”

Jon nodded as he tousled a lock of Kalia’s hair from her side bangs, “The other day at the battle of Walshin, I encountered a young woman who so brazenly interrupted my duel with Uberman. She is a masterful elemancer who possessed the ability to bend the very winds to her will. I believe that this is her doing… that even as we speak, she’s among the Khazanians, manipulating the blizzard in their favour.”

“Ah, so you want me to eliminate a key enemy asset,” A cold smirk crossed Kalia’s lips, the expression of sadistic glee over an imminent act of cruelty. “Tell me what she looks like, so that I may hunt her down.”

“Please, if all I needed was someone to just bark orders at the thralls I wouldn’t have needed your talents, Kalia. No, your skillset is far too valuable for just that,” With that, Jon held up a small crystal ball in front of Kalia’s face as it glowed with a white light. “One of my Phantom Sorcerers scryed this,” within the crystal ball, a vision of Tiara was revealed from the time she intervened to save Tim during the battle of Walshin.

Kalia’s gaze darkened as she studied the aeromancer’s facial features, her body, her clothing to commit every single aspect of her appearance to her memory. The Harbinger had to admit, however begrudgingly, that the aeromancer was not lacking in the beauty department – but that was what fuelled her animus towards Tiara; the prettier they are, the more satisfying they would be for her to torture. “Consider it done, milord. I can only hope her screams will be as cute as her face!”

With a dramatic flourish, the sashes around Kalia’s body moved with a life of their own, slithering like serpents as they lifted the Harbinger into the air before coiling below her feet like a set of springs. A dull boom echoed through the vicinity as the silk streamers explosively straightened out in a manner akin to compressed springs being released, launching Kalia hundreds of feet into the air with an accompanying shockwave. At the apex of her assisted leap, the silk sashes rearranged themselves into a formation resembling a set of wings, Kalia’s silhouette resembling a twisted parody of a seraphim as she sailed into the distance on the air currents.

“S-Such power!” Regulus exclaimed as he stumbled back, stunned by Kalia’s display of power – such were the abilities possessed by the Einherjar, the prestigious lord-minions Drekis, the Apostles and Harbingers who stood below only the Magisters in the Drekis Empire’s hierarchy. It was a stark reminder of the kind of power Regulus had long hungered for, yet still eluded his grasp even after so many years of loyal service to Drekis. The senior Scion could only wonder – just what would it take, to finally earn the right to stand among them?

“And that leaves you now, Regulus,” Jon finally addressed the Discordant Scion.

“I humbly await my Magister’s orders,” Regulus quickly got back down on one knee, his head bowed to show deference to Jon Avalon’s authority.

“In light of Kalia’s reassignment, the task of leading her detachment now falls on you,” Jon’s voice was impassive and professional as he cast a stern gaze towards Regulus while gesturing with his left hand for the senior Scion to get back onto his feet. “You will consolidate your regiment with her detachment and circle around to the enemy’s east flank. While she eliminates the enemy’s high value target, you will order the thralls to attack. Be relentless, drive them onward at all costs – as tireless as the Khazanians’ mechanical allies are, they can still be beaten in attrition.”

“I am honoured to receive such an assignment! May His Eminence bless his faithful!” Regulus drew his sword and tapped his forehead with the flat side before angling it towards Jon as a salute.

Jon Avalon smiled as he materialised his iconic energy sword to return Regulus’ salute. With a roar, Zegrin made his way back to the Magister’s side, crouching down onto his belly to allow Jon to get onto the saddle. “And I bid you all the same – one way or another, the battle for Xaelon ends on this day!” With that, the dragon flapped his wings, taking Jon higher and higher into the air until he vanished from Regulus’ sight.

 

Segment 148: Fire in the Sky

With the blizzard being manipulated by Tiara to work with the Khazanians rather than against them, the burden that General Yang’s forces had to bear had lightened substantially – even if the numerical odds remained stacked against them. Despite still spewing smoke from numerous battle damages, the Libra remained high in the air as the icon of Khazanian defiance. Covered by anti-air batteries from Uberman and Scout’s forces as well as the WinterScar machines, the massive Valkyrie-class airship supported the ground troops with devastating salvos of particle beam fire from its main guns, carving glowing fissures into the terrain and vaporising entire columns of Drekis minions.

The Bio-Fighters remained a menace, but the blizzard hampered the accuracy of their weapons. In addition, the enemy biomechanoids ended up splitting their forces between engaging the Libra’s fighter and warmech escorts in the air, and the robotic legion on the ground – which left them easy prey for the fighters and Mechanised Squadrons, whose pilots now had an easier time outmanoeuvring and flanking the Bio-Fighters.

“Maj. Kitazawa, this is Uberman; you should prioritise the defense of the Libra and the survival of your soldiers. Keep your remaining mechs in a defensive formation around the Libra, and leave the heavy-lifting to us!” Uberman’s voice came over the global comms channel, heard by every pilot in the Mechanised Squadrons. His suit’s flight repulsors blazing, Uberman flew ahead of a team of airborne Sentinels – consisting primarily of tech-based heroes and magic-based ones, along with the odd flying brick – and supported by several squadrons of aerial droids.

Uberman announced his arrival on the frontline by flying full-throttle towards a Bio-Fighter that was dogfighting a mech, the cyborg rammed his armoured frame into the biomechanoid with such force that he ploughed right through its body, almost shearing his enemy in half. The badly-mutilated Bio-Fighter twitched and writhed as oily black ichor spewed from its wounds, but before the biomechanoid could initiate its regenerative sequence, another Sentinel swooped in to finish it off.

A pink-haired girl dressed in what looked like a fancy purple witch hat and matching cloak over a stylised serafuku rode on a flying broom, pointing a wand at the damaged biomechanoid. A circle of orange runes circled around the tip of her wand, before launching a large fireball that zeroed in on the enemy biomechanoid with deadly accuracy, blowing it up and incinerating its foul-smelling  remains. The schoolgirl-witch looked at Uberman, and gave the Sentinel leader a smile and a respectful tip of her hat, and the cyborg returned her courtesy with a thumbs up before splitting off to engage new targets.

“Duly noted, Uberman – go out there and give them hell,” If Uberman had lips, the cyborg would’ve smiled as he heard Takuma’s acknowledgement over his armour’s comms. In lieu of a smile, the Sentinel leader’s optics flashed pink under his faceplate as he dodged a near point-blank particle beam discharge from a Bio-Fighter in its biomech form. The cyborg returned fire with his right forearm blaster, rocking the Bio-Fighter with a concussive blast that nailed it square in the chest.

Accelerating on his flight repulsors, Uberman closed the gap in a blink of an eye for hand-to-hand combat, delivering two left jabs to the enemy’s face in rapid succession, followed by a mighty right-handed wind-up punch to its liver region. The cyborg wasn’t sure if the Bio-Fighter even had a liver or something similar to one, but whatever it was he struck, the blow clearly hurt it a great deal as the biomechanoid made a shrill cry and doubled over. The transformed Bio-Fighter responded by going into a frenzy as it threw itself at Uberman with a flurry of claw swipes and point-blank shots from its bio-energy cannons.

The Sentinel leader telegraphed the biomechanoid’s wild attacks with ease, before catching hold of its left claw in mid-swing. Despite the size difference between the two, Uberman proved to be stronger than his larger opponent as he twisted the biomechanoid’s arm using one hand, before bringing his other hand down in a karate chop that severed the Bio-Fighter’s left arm at its shoulder. Uberman proceeded to use the Bio-Fighter’s own arm as a club, smashing it twice in the head before throwing it away. As the damaged biomechanoid attempted to regenerate from its wounds, the Sentinel leader grabbed hold of the Bio-Fighter by the torso to rip it in half before throwing each piece far away to prevent them from reattaching.

Two Bio-Fighters converged upon Uberman’s position in an attempt to execute a pincer strike on the cyborg, but before the biomechanoids could open fire, a sudden roar caused the Bio-Fighters to call off their attack, as they held their fire and sharply changed their flight path to engage different targets. For a couple of seconds, the cyborg tried to process what just happened, until he realised that he had heard that roar before. And the sight that greeted him next wasn’t one that Uberman looked forward to.

Zegrin flapped his wings as he flew through the blizzard, with Jon Avalon riding on the dragon’s saddle with his energy sword held in his right hand and his left hand raised. The puzzle clicked together in an instant inside Uberman’s mind – the Magister had called off the Bio-Fighters’ attack because the Sentinel leader was his quarry.

“We meet again, Uberman. Hopefully, for the last time,” A cruel smile crossed Jon’s face as he lowered his left hand to hold onto the reins on Zegrin’s saddle. Jon’s draconic mount roared as he divebombed towards Uberman, who engaged his repulsors just in time to avoid getting tackled by the dragon. Zegrin displayed a shocking agility for his massive frame as the dragon circled back and flew back up at Uberman with great speed, the cyborg narrowly dodging a devastating bite as Zegrin snapped at him with his jaws. Zegrin growled before swivelling around to swing his powerful tail at Uberman, who crossed his arms together to block the strike that sent the cyborg flying back.

Uberman flipped several times through the air before his flight repulsors re-engaged to steady himself in midair, and found Zegrin flapping in place, and Jon Avalon still flashing that cold smile of his. “How could you smile through all of this, Jon?” Uberman’s voice quaked with righteous fury as the Sentinel leader pointed at the Magister, “All these innocent lives lost, all these homes broken… what do you seek to achieve through senseless violence and pointless waste of lives?”

Jon chuckled, finding amusement in Uberman’s indignation, “We haven’t known each other for long, and you speak of me as though you understand me inside and out – have you not realised by now, your concept of morality holds no meaning to me? You see good and evil, light and darkness… but His Eminence has shown me that all these are lies. The only enduring truth of the cosmos is chaos  – what you call right and wrong is nothing more than the product of an oppressive order that binds us to a script.”

“You… you’re a monster,” Uberman’s optics glowed red as jets of steam escaped from his armour’s cooling vents.

“Call me what you may, Uberman,” Jon wagged his index finger as if to admonish the Sentinel leader for his narrow-minded views, “But I can never go back to such a confined worldview like yours after His Eminence opened my eyes. If you are determined to prove me wrong, it will have to be through might! Come at me like the warrior you are!”

“Might make right, huh? That’s the language of a tyrant,” Uberman shook his head, the trembling in his voice a sign of the Sentinel leader’s struggle to hold back his visceral disgust at Avalon’s worldview, “I’m not taking your bait… you want me to give in to hate, and come at you as a killer…”

“Ah, but have you not already killed since this war started? All those Deminites that gave their life in service of the Drekis Empire… on what grounds do you deem their lives worth less than those of your fellow Khazanians?” 

“Do not compare mindless beasts like them with the people of Khazan! What do they understand of hopes and dreams? Or of love and friendship?” Uberman seethed in disgust at the Magister’s false equivalence.

“What about the Discordant Scions who serve His Eminence out of choice then? Do you not think that they too are fighting for their hopes and dreams then? Or that they have loved ones they wanted to protect?” Jon replied coldly as he stared at Uberman with an expressionless countenance, the battle continuing to rage around them amidst their midair standoff. “Such is the problem of those who have yet to receive His Eminence’s revelations – your perception of good and evil constantly contradict themselves, you’re blind to the fact that you are fundamentally conflicted beings who mean one thing but act the opposite.”

“You’re nothing more than a death cult that operates on a twisted worldview! What kind of ‘truth’ is it that you see that justifies mass murder of innocents anyway!?” Uberman yelled, flailing his arms before powering up his concussion blasters. “I am past caring for your or Drekis’ philosophy at this point! All I care about is defending my people! To protect our homes and our way of life! I’d rather see you and your master rot in a maximum-security prison if I can have it my way, but if I must end you with these hands then so be it!”

Jon chuckled as he raised his hand to brush a few stray locks of hair away from his forehead, before pointing his energy sword at Uberman, its spectral green blade humming and pulsing as he beckoned Uberman with his free hand, “Well then Uberman, what are you waiting for? Let’s prove whose worldview is superior by seeing who walks away at the end of the day.”

There was nothing more for Uberman to say at this point; the Sentinel leader merely looked up at Jon and gave a slow nod of his head, before putting his flight repulsors on overdrive as he launched himself fists-first at Jon Avalon and Zegrin in a bid to settle their differences once and for all in the climactic battle to determine the fate of Xaelon as he thought, ‘Violence breeds violence… but in the end, it has to be this way!’

 

Segment 149: The Sword’s Voice

As the battle raged, Tim once more felt the urge to charge ahead of the Khazanians and machines to spearhead an assault on the Drekis legion’s frontline. The more Drekis thralls surrounded him, the more intense the turquoise light given off by his heirloom sword. The brighter his sword glowed, the stronger the urge to throw himself at the enemy. Even though Tim could not see it himself, the irises of his eyes also gave off an identical glow whenever his killing intent towards the Drekis thralls grew – he could not see his eyes glowing, but he could feel the tugging within his soul. ‘Am I controlling my weapon… or is it controlling me?’ the young Sentinel thought as he wrestled with the intrusive thoughts clouding his judgement as he performed an uppercut slash that cleaved through a Reptillion’s shield before slicing its body in half, sending its sundered remains spinning in separate directions.

Clarity returned to Tim as Raea gave him a firm pat on the shoulder, her hand resting there for a second. Tim’s head snapped in the redhead’s direction as the two briefly made eye contact – the swordsman was certain that in that moment his girlfriend had said something. He could not hear her words over the noise of the battlefield, and her powersuit’s battle mask prevented him from reading her lips. But the exact words weren’t important to Tim, all he knew was that whatever Raea said, the emotional resonance had gotten to his heart and kept him anchored to reality.

“Shinestar! Behind you!” Tim heard Raea this time as the redheaded Sentinel shouted to warn him of imminent danger. A wounded Deminite Soldier, missing its left arm and its right eye mangled, sprang up behind Tim with a roar, right claw poised to strike. Her body acting on pure instinct and muscle memory, Raea thrust the muzzle of one of her pulsed plasma pistols into the beast’s gaping mouth and pulled the trigger; a bolt of blue-white plasma exploded within Deminite Soldier’s mouth as jets of flame shot out from its eye sockets and nostrils, the thrall already dead before Tim knocked its body to the ground with a spinning kick.

“Come on, Tim; you can’t expect us to babysit you the whole time, right?” Telissa’s voice came over the comms unit on Timothy’s cyber-suit, though the teasing tone of the female Seeker’s voice told the silver-haired swordsman that it was more of a friendly ribbing on Telissa’s part rather than a complaint. The blonde rode on the back of one of the heavy droids, using its armoured frame for cover as she acquired targets on her powersuit’s AR visor, counter-sniping Hunter-Killers with her LR-2X molecular disruptor rifle.

Tim snapped his gaze to and fro, taking stock of the current state of the frontline. The machines continued to stand strong and push back wave after wave of enemies. But as more and more Devonoxes and other heavies joined the fray, the swordsman felt that the tide of battle was gradually shifting even though the Khazanians’ kills-to-losses ratio remained promising. An unidentified voice came over his suit’s comms, warning the Khazanians that close quarters fighting was imminent.

On hearing this, Tim felt his pulse race as he tightened his grip on his weapon, the sword’s turquoise glow becoming more intense – it was as if a part of him looked forward to slaughtering the Drekis thralls en masse, while another part of him felt disgusted. As a hero, it was one thing to desire to protect the innocent – but was it becoming of a hero to look forward to killing? 

Telissa spun around to face the east to witness a large horde of Drekis thralls bearing down on her allies’ positions. While Scout and Uberman had anticipated the possibility of being flanked from the east, they had underestimated the Drekis legion’s numerical strength. A column of Devonoxes charged at the WinterScar machines, and like a crimson spearhead, the hulking bruisers punched a hole in the machines’ defensive phalanx.

“Tim, the enemy has breached our eastern phalanx, go back them up before they overrun our defenses!” Telissa’s voice barked over the comms on Tim and Raea’s suits. Tim and Raea nodded as they looked each other in the eyes and fought their way to the eastern flank. The Devonoxes were quickly felled by the big guns of the heavy droids and KAF vehicles, but lighter minions such as Reavers and Deminite Soldiers were already pouring in through the breach in the machines’ phalanx. The thralls quickened their pace as their monstrous cries grew even more hellish, visibly excited to sink their claws and fangs into warm flesh once more. Within a span of minutes, several squads of Khazanian soldiers met a grisly end as Deminite Soldiers launched fireballs into their ranks, before Reptillions and Reavers leapt into the fray to cut unfortunate fighters down where they stood.

A Khazanian soldier landed on his back after taking a backhand across the face from a Deminite Soldier; through the crack in his helmet’s faceplate, a single exposed eye widened in terror as the creature stood over him, claws raised and ready to finish the job. Before the Deminite could tear him apart, from the corner of his sight the soldier saw a flash of turquoise, followed by the Deminite Soldier’s head rolling across the snow near his feet before its headless body slumped to the ground as Tim now stood over him, glowing sword in hand.

“Since when did he get ahead of me!?” Raea could not hide her astonishment upon seeing that Tim had gotten all the way to the front without her even noticing. The young redhead swore that only seconds ago, they were still side-by-side! 

“It’s that thing again!” Telissa stared, her eyes wide behind her battlesuit’s visor. She remembered the Hunter-Killer ambush at Khazan City’s Chinatown, as well as their battles with the Marauders in Zel’Myas following their breakout from Trovol – it was the same ability as Timothy moved with a speed that even her suit’s advanced optics struggled to track, his movements registering as nothing more than trails of turquoise light. One moment he was sprinting towards the eastern front alongside Raea, and the next he had pulled far ahead of her and was already in the fray.

From Tim’s perspective, time itself appeared to slow to a crawl as his now-glowing eyes viewed the world through a monochromatic filter, with coloured auras breaking up the sea of grayscale. Six Deminite Soldiers encircled the swordsman and leapt claws-first at him in a synchronised assault, but when viewed through his eyes, they were moving in slow-motion. Tim spun around and swung his sword in a circular slash, his attack appearing like a disc of turquoise light before six Deminite heads hit the ground simultaneously.

Tim looked at the soldier and nodded, before offering his right hand to pull the man back onto his feet. “Go, rejoin your comrades,” the silver-haired Sentinel sent the soldier off with a firm pat on the back. Five Reavers and three Reptillions threw themselves at Tim and the retreating soldier, but the Sentinel’s swordplay made short work of the thralls to allow the soldier to get to safety.

In that moment, Timothy felt like a god of war. His body moved with a fluidity and grace he never knew he possessed, and his telegraphing of the enemy’s movements bordered on prescient as he weaved, dodged and parried attacks from multiple angles. The young Sentinel fought with brutal efficiency as he moved with a clear purpose – not a single movement was wasted as nearly each defense was perfectly followed-up with either a deadly counterattack, or a tactical repositioning at the enemy’s blind spots.

‘Am I mastering the sword, or is it my master?’ The question he had on the back of his mind since the beginning of the battle nagged at him once more. Before the war, he told himself he would master the sword at all costs to become the Main Event champion at the FPL; but he was no longer so certain at this point whether his current abilities were the result of the sword drawing out his latent potential, or if the sword had a will of its own that was capable of exerting its influence on his thoughts and actions, such as the inexplicable bloodlust that came over him whenever the sword glowed in the presence of Drekis’ thralls. 

The roar of a Devonox snapped Timothy back to reality as the crimson-skinned brute charged towards him, swinging an arm as it closed the distance in an attempt to swat the young man like a fly with its open palm. Timothy darted to the side to avoid the attack as the Devonox’s palm smashed into the ground, sending plumes of snow into the air as it left an impact crater on the permafrost. Without missing a beat, the Sentinel drove his sword downwards, skewering the Devonox’s hand and pinning it to the ground.

The crimson bruiser’s roar of pain transitioned seamlessly into one of savage fury as it extracted its impaled hand from the ground with brute force, flipping Tim into the air in the process. Keeping an unyielding grip on his weapon, the silver-haired swordsman tugged the sword out of the Devonox’s hand upon being thrown skywards, performing two somersaults in midair before descending back down like the wrath of God, taking off the brute’s arm with a mighty overhead chop.

The crimson brute roared as it staggered and went down on one knee before Tim, but it wasted not a single second before resuming its attack by lashing out with its other hand in an attempt to grab hold of the young Sentinel, hell-bent on squeezing the life out of him, but before it could get its hand on Tim, a well-aimed disruptor rifle shot from Telissa vaporised its head.

By this point, the eastern front was successfully stabilised as the KAF managed to rally their forces after the initial surprise attack and drove the enemy horde back, while the machine legion shuffled their formation to rebuild their protective phalanx. Even then, Tim felt an urge to push himself onward, to leap over his allies’ positions and storm the enemy lines.

But unfortunately – or perhaps fortunately – for Tim, after that initial burst of godlike combat performance, the young Sentinel found himself moving far more sluggishly than he hoped to, as he felt his legs go wobbly for a few seconds, causing him to stumble forward as he planted his sword into the ground to keep himself upright, his free hand clutching his chest as he took in heavy, laboured breaths. It was during this momentary stumble that allowed Raea and Telissa to catch up to the silver-haired swordsman. 

“You need to learn to pace yourself, Tim,” Raea retracted her battlesuit’s mask as she bent down to help Tim back onto his feet. “You can take a breather now, the worst is over… for the time being.”

“She’s right,” Telissa added, using the brief lull in battle to grab extra reloads for her weapons from a nearby supply cache, before tossing some extra ammo over to Raea as well. “That was some god-tier shit back there, but I don’t think the level of threat justifies your degree of overkill. You don’t wanna risk burning yourself out too soon. Remember, this is a marathon, not a sprint.”

Tim nodded as he steadied his breathing and tried to relax his muscles; the sensors in his cyber-suit picked up his vital signatures and assisted in this regard by sending vibrations through the young Sentinel’s body meant to stimulate a massage, while thermal regulators worked to cool his body down. Retrieving a KAF-issue water canteen from his suit’s belt, Tim popped the lid open to gulp down its contents with great thirst, as though he’d spent hours wandering the Spellfire Desert.

“Steady yourself there, Tim,” Raea went over to Timothy’s side to give her boyfriend reassuring pats on the back, only to recoil in shock as he looked up at her with glowing turquoise eyes that narrowed with an intense gaze like he were on guard for danger.

“Raea, get back!” Tim yelled as he snatched his sword back up, its blade flaring with an intense turquoise glow. The silver-haired swordsman could not put his finger to it, but his instincts screamed at him to move as quickly as possible, it was as if his life were in immediate danger. From where the danger was coming, Tim did not know – but he knew anything was better than standing still; and moved he did, as Tim sprang backwards.

Raea was initially taken aback by Tim’s sudden outburst, but the redhead had known him long enough to trust him with all her heart, especially when he’d made such a dire warning. The Sentinel engaged her battlesuit’s repulsors as she leapt back in the opposite direction as Tim, while her suit’s battle mask simultaneously snapped back into place over the lower half of her face.

A fraction of a second later, a bolt of energy with a ghostly green hue descended from the skies like a lightning strike, obliterating the very ground that Tim and Raea were standing on mere heartbeats ago. The clouds of steam caused by the vaporised snow and ice soon cleared, revealing a bowl-shaped crater in the ground about three metres in radius where a robed figure crouched in the centre, his face mostly concealed by a cloak with its hood raised.

“Wait… you’re…” Tim struggled to find his words as he stared at the robed figure as it rose from the crater. The black and purple robes, the crimson sigils embroidered into them, and the matching cloak – there was no mistaking who that was. “I remember you… you’re that Marauder back in Zel’Myas…” It all came back to the silver-haired swordsman; that dark mage had initially confronted him and addressed him as the “descendant of Sarachus” and expressed interest in testing if he truly lived up to that title before being interrupted by Vincentzo and Captain Khazan.

“Y’know, I previously still had doubts as to whether or not you’re truly a descendant of Sarachus,” Morlos grinned as he rubbed his chin, the only part of his face along with his mouth not obscured by the shadows of his hood, “But after seeing how easily you avoided that strike, I’m more confident than ever that truly, Sarachus’ bloodline lives on.

“I see now, your true allegiance was never with the Marauders… you were working for Drekis the whole time…” Timothy gritted his teeth as he raised his sword and pointed it at Morlos, “And I’ll say it once more… My name is Shinestar!”

“It doesn’t matter what you say your name is, boy!” Morlos cackled as he rubbed his hands with cruel glee, “Just know that today, Morlos Gao will be the one to claim your life!”

“Shut up!” Raea yelled as she fired her pulsed plasma pistols in stereo at Morlos, enraged at the idea that someone would personally have her boyfriend marked for death. In a span of a heartbeat, Telissa joined Raea in the assault as she fired consecutive shots with her molecular disruptor rifle; the two women unloaded their weapons on the Discordant Scion’s position, the concentrated fire causing the crater to become twice as wide and deep as it was before, but when the smoke cleared, there was no trace of Morlos’ remains, and their instincts told them that the Scion had not taken so much as a single hit.

“He shadow-walked out of harm’s way, just like in the previous battle,” Tim warned Raea and Telissa over their comms, “He knows a spell that allows him to use shadows as teleportation gateways, keep an eye on all nearby shadows including your own!”

The trio of Timothy, Raea and Telissa backed towards one another until they stood back-to-back in a tight triangle formation to allow their field of vision to overlap so as to maintain an omnidirectional line of sight. But they found their attention constantly divided between keeping an eye on the frontline – which was still holding strong – and looking out for where this new enemy may strike.

Telissa whispered to the other two, “He’s a high-ranking Discordant Scion; these fanatical agents of Drekis are not as powerful as Magisters or their Einherjar… but still, they’re usually far stronger than any thrall, so be on full alert!” During her hunt for Drekis, the blonde Seeker had fought her share of battles with Discordant Scions, but even she had to admit that this one was likely the most formidable Scion she’d faced to date.

“There!” From the corner of his vision, Tim noticed a nearby shadow shift. The young Sentinel shouted a war cry as he threw himself at Morlos the instant the dark mage materialised from his shadow gate, but his opponent was far quicker than he’d anticipated. A piece of dark purple fabric fluttered to the ground as Tim realised that all he did was slice off a part of Morlos’ cloak as he cast a haste spell, dodging the Sentinel’s slash with such speed that all he perceived was a trail of ghostly green light before Morlos reappeared a few metres away.

“My suit’s scanners didn’t even pick up his movements!” Telissa gasped in disbelief over how Morlos was able to reposition himself at will without tripping any of the sensors in her battlesuit, which would normally have picked up an enemy signature and sent an appropriate warning over her visor’s AR display. Yet somehow, Tim possessed senses to track the Scion’s movements when even the most advanced Seeker technology had failed.

Tim hounded Morlos as he zipped around the battlefield at a perplexing speed, but despite the swordsman’s supernatural senses and enhanced speed, the dark mage was always a step ahead in their cat-and-mouse chase, allowing him to stay out of the way of Tim’s sword strikes. Tim responded by redoubling his efforts, but still he kept missing by a whisker as wherever he swung his weapon, he would find himself striking down an afterimage left behind by the Scion’s swift movements.

“The descendant of Sarachus does not disappoint!” Confident in his ability to stay ahead of Timothy, Morlos took to taunting the young Sentinel as he raised his hands; with a flash of light, a pair of dark green octahedron-shaped crystals appeared, hovering over the dark mage’s left and right shoulder. “However, I can sense that you’re still far from worthy of that relic you hold in your hands… So how's this as an alternative? You surrender that sword to me, and I’ll let you keep your life.”

“Never!” Tim gave a roar of defiance as he unleashed a sword beam at Morlos, but the results stayed the same as his energy blast passed through an afterimage left by the dark mage gliding out of the path of the attack. The silver-haired swordsman followed up with a flurry of slashes and thrusts, and Morlos avoided each and every one of them with uncanny timing and precision.

“What’s the matter, boy?” There was a brief pause in the battle as Tim stopped to catch his breath, his silver bangs plastered to his forehead by sweat in spite of the frigid weather – and Morlos continued to circle around Tim to psychologically undermine him as he physically exhausted himself. “Are you getting cold feet now upon realising the gulf between our capabilities? My offer still stands, you know…”

“The only way you’re taking this sword…” Tim spoke between ragged gasps as he raised his glowing sword up high, “Is prying it from my cold, dead hands!” The young Sentinel’s eyes glowed with a turquoise light as he launched himself towards Morlos with every ounce of effort he could summon, only to still cut through an afterimage as Morlos shadow-walked out of the way of Tim’s attack.

This time, Raea and Telissa were ready as they opened fire as soon as Morlos reappeared from his shadow gate, but the two floating crystals accompanying the dark mage glowed with a ghostly green light as a spherical field of energy encased him; which turned out to be a protective barrier as pulsed plasma and molecular disruptor beams alike deflected off harmlessly. Morlos scratched his chin thoughtfully as he looked at the two women firing on him with a twisted curiosity, “If coercion won’t work on you… maybe it’s time I got myself a bargaining chip.”

A demented grin formed on Morlos’ exposed mouth as the dark mage pointed his hands at Raea, green arcs of electricity dancing between his fingertips as a glowing green circle of runes appeared in front of his hands, “I didn’t want to make this hard on you lass, but you can only blame your boy’s obstinacy for this!”

“You will not lay a finger on her!” Timothy roared as an aura of turquoise light enveloped his body and his eyes glowed brighter. He watched Morlos unleash his spell in slow-motion, an arc of ghostly green lighting streaking towards Raea who was still unloading her weapons futilely into the dark mage’s barrier. The young Sentinel shot forward like a beam of turquoise light, intercepting the spell meant for Raea with his own body.

The instant the green lightning made contact with Tim’s body, the young Sentinel dropped to his knees screaming in pain as his limbs convulsed – the agony was unimaginable, it felt as if every single nerve ending in his body had been lit on fire. But the effect of the spell was more than just physical; even as unbearable pain surged through his body, a malignant psychic influence crept over his soul, threatening to overwhelm his mind with soul-crushing despair as he went from kneeling down to curling up on his side in a fetal position.

“Well, so much for the hype about being a descendant of Sarachus,” Morlos sneered as he turned up the intensity of his spell, “What a predictable response, playing the knight in shining armour… this is why you are not worthy of this sword’s power!”

“Timothy!” Raea screamed as she ejected her pulsed plasma pistols’ spent energy cells and popped in a pair of fresh cells to continue firing desperately at Morlos, “You monster!” Telissa reloaded her LR-2X and joined Raea in the attack, but none of their weapons appeared to have any effect on the dark mage’s protective barrier.

Morlos’ hidden eyes narrowed as he watched the two women’s gunfire bounce off his barrier; he’d recalled that their actions in Zel’Myas contributed to the Marauders losing control over the capital, which provided the catalyst for Relinqiest’s decision to send his legion to have Zel’Mier sacked, “You know, I must thank you lasses for your actions in Zel’Myas – it was the result of your doing that I could finally be relieved of my duties as a Marauder mole. Ready to receive your reward?”

The floating crystals above Morlos’ shoulders crackled with electricity as they unleashed arcs of green lightning identical to the ones he was torturing Tim with. Raea and Telissa were each struck by their own arcs of green lightning that forced them to their knees as they dropped their weapons and fell to the ground writhing in unspeakable pain.

“Yes! I bask in your pain!” Morlos cackled maniacally as the trio of heroes continued to twitch and writhe, “I lap up your agony like sweet honey! Your screams are music to my ears!”

Tim thrashed around in pain as Morlos turned up the output of his spell; he tried to shut his eyes, thinking that the dark mage’s lightning could burn them right out of their sockets. But he could not keep them closed, for every time he squeezed his eyelids shut the screams of the two women sounded louder and more heart-wrenching. The swordsman looked at his own hands, and saw green arcs of electricity coursing down his arms and dancing between his fingertips. 

It felt as if Morlos’ spell was powered by the heroes’ suffering, as the greater their pain and despair, the stronger the lightning grew to create a vicious feedback loop. It wasn’t long before Tim felt his consciousness slipping as his struggling grew weaker. But ever the sadist, Morlos dialled down the intensity of his spell to not allow Tim the luxury of passing out – intent on making sure he spent each and every second fully aware of his suffering as Morlos sought to torture the young Sentinel until he drew his last breath or broke, whichever comes first. 

“Raea…” Tim managed to croak as he reached a convulsing arm towards the thrashing redhead, his fingers spasming as his hand reached for Raea's. The swordsman looked at his weapon, his hand still keeping a firm grip on it despite the rest of his body spasming uncontrollably. The turquoise light radiating from its blade had completely extinguished, and even the metal had lost its shine as it appeared pitted and dull as though it were a reflection of Tim’s current state. “Please… Sarachus… lend me more strength… To defeat this fiend…”

“Is he talking to his sword?” A cruel sneer crossed Morlos’ face, or what little could be seen of it, as he observed Tim’s erratic behaviour. Turning towards Raea for a moment, the dark mage laughed as he tilted his head in Tim’s direction, “Look at your boy, looks like he’s completely lost his marbles. Hmm, I wonder how much longer you can hold out?”

Inexplicably, Raea retracted her battlesuit’s mask and lifted her head with great struggle to glare at Morlos, managing to put on an angry face despite the intense pain, “Go… fuck yourself… you’ll never break me… much less Shinestar.”

“Why?”

A voice that sounded almost like his own rang inside Tim’s ears, audible even above the noise of the surrounding battle, forcing Tim to lift his head to scan his surroundings for the source of that voice even through the catastrophic pain wracking his body. Yet he could see no-one that he could readily identify as the owner of that voice. However, he saw a familiar Khazanian soldier running over to his position – there was no mistaking that damaged faceplate that showed off a single eye, it was the same soldier that he’d saved earlier! And he’d brought backup, as five more soldiers and a sergeant – distinguishable from his men by the Ridgeway cap he wore in lieu of a face-concealing helmet – came running up after him, weapons in hand.

“No, please… don’t…” Tim shook his head as he raised a trembling hand in the direction of the incoming soldiers while the sergeant raised a gloved hand and gestured for his troops to spread out and lay down suppressive fire. Brave as their actions were, Tim knew that they were only going to get themselves killed, and he couldn’t live with the fact that someone would have to die, just so that he could live.

“Tch, annoying gnats,” Morlos’ visible mouth curled into a snarl as the soldiers took positions and opened fire with assault rifles and light machine guns. Pulses of energy rippled off the Scion’s barrier as numerous bullets pelted it, but not a single round made it through; Morlos saw no need to reroute any of the energy used in his magical torture of the three heroes into reinforcing his barrier against the soldiers’ firepower.

The sergeant loaded his K-39A2’s underbarrel grenade launcher with a white phosphorus round, while another soldier raised a quad-barrel rocket launcher that resembled a M202A Flash, loaded with armour-piercing rockets. In a coordinated assault, they unleashed a barrage of heavy ordnance on their target, the sound of the explosions momentarily drowning out Timothy, Raea and Telissa’s screams while a pall of smoke descended over the area as the remaining soldiers continued to hose the Discordant Scion with small arms fire. 

The sergeant held up his right hand, making a KAF standard gesture for cease fire. At once, all guns fell silent as the squad advanced cautiously through the smoke.

Once the smoke cleared, the sergeant’s expression quickly changed as he and his squad caught sight of Morlos continuing to float in the air without a care, his protective barrier still intact as he continued to torture the three heroes with a continuous arcs of green eldritch lightning. His eyes gave off the same glow now, dispelling the shadows cast by his cowl to leave his face in full view. Underneath that hood lay the face of an unremarkable-looking bald middle-aged man with dark eyebrows and sallow skin, but twisted into a snarling expression that looked more beast than man. 

“Know your place, insects!” Morlos’ voice sounded like a panther’s growl as he pointed his left hand away from Tim and towards the soldiers, redirecting one of his arcs of lightning towards the squad. The first to be hit was the sergeant, as the arc of lightning blasted a hole clean through his chest – armour and all – before disintegrating the rest of his body. As though possessing a mind of its own, the arc of lightning snaked to another soldier, and another. In a matter of seconds, Morlos laid waste to the entire squad, their bodies engulfed in an unholy green aura as they disintegrated, leaving only charred skeletons that crumbled into ash as they collapsed to the ground.

“No!” A howl of despair, raw and plaintive, escaped Tim’s throat as a blackened, smoking skull belonging to one of the slain soldiers rolled across the snow towards where he lay before crumbling. 

“Why?” Tim heard the voice that sounded like his own again, more clearly this time. And it was then that Tim realised he was no longer feeling any pain. For a moment, the young Sentinel thought it was because his body was dying, but upon taking a quick look around he soon discovered he just had an out-of-body experience.

In his astral form, Tim stood over his physical body which still lay on the snow – in his incorporeal state, he saw everything through the same desaturation filter as he did when his sword was activated. Unlike his physical form, Tim’s astral form was dressed in his familiar civilian attire – a blue paisley bandana and red plaid flannel shirt over a T-shirt and jeans. “All I wanted was power, more power… so why are you interrogating me?”

Tim glanced back down at where his physical form lay – from his astral form’s perception, time itself seemed to stand still as his physical body was frozen mid-thrashing. The sword held in his body’s hand was the only object not affected by the desaturation filter his astral form saw the world through, now once more emitting its familiar turquoise light, albeit a faint one. “What’s going on? What’s with the time stop?” Tim stared at the glowing sword held by his physical body, then at the hands of his astral self.

The sound of feet shuffling through the snow caught Tim’s attention, and the young Sentinel looked up towards the source of the sound. Walking towards him was a tall and lithe figure dressed in a white hooded robe with embroidered gold accents, with gemmed accessories that emitted the same turquoise glow as his sword. Much like himself and the sword, the robed figure was also not affected by the desaturation filter that made Tim’s astral self perceive the world in grayscale.

The robed figure lifted their right hand and pointed at Tim, their face partially obscured by a white hood. Then their lips started to move as they spoke in a voice that sounded remarkably like Tim’s, “You asked for a power that is beyond the understanding of humans. A power capable of deliverance as much as it is capable of damnation. This is a power that cannot be given unconditionally; if you seek this power, you must pass a trial of the heart.” At that, the white-robed figure lifted their hands to lower their hood.

“You… you’re…” Tim’s eyes widened at the sight of his own face staring back at him. The same turquoise-irised eyes, the same jawline and the same hair – the only difference was that the stranger who bore his face wore his hair much longer, it reached down to his waist, tied into a low ponytail. He remembered seeing that face in a vision a few weeks back, while he was practicing with his sword in Araelgrad prior to his induction into the SLJ. Tim could only wonder if his other self was either a manifestation of his deepest desires, or perhaps an avatar of his heirloom sword.

“I’ll tell you why I wanted this power,” Tim began, looking his other self in the eye, “Because I needed help… I needed help to defeat the fiend threatening those I love!” At that statement, the young Sentinel turned his gaze towards the frozen scene of Morlos blasting himself, Raea and Telissa with eldritch lightning to torture them.

Timothy’s other self looked back sternly at the swordsman, his voice flat and emotionless, “So you seek the power to kill and destroy?”

“No!” Tim flailed his arms in the air and shook his head vehemently, “No! All I ask for is the power to protect! Raea is the whole world to me, and Telissa is someone I’ve grown to care deeply for; they’re in terrible pain right now, and there’s nothing I can do to help them, that’s why I need greater power!”

The other Tim walked over to the silver-haired Sentinel and rested his right hand on his shoulder, “The power to protect and the power to destroy are but opposite sides of the same coin. Know that power beyond one’s responsibility is power that corrupts, regardless of one’s motives.” The other Tim slowly removed his hand from the Sentinel’s shoulder and turned around to walk away.

“No! That’s not true!” Timothy insisted as his hand shot forth to grab his other self by the wrist to hold him in place. “I don’t want power for anything else other than to save the ones I love! To be able to protect everyone here, all of whom made the decision to give their lives to protect everything they hold dear! All I want is the ability to do the same! To be able to give all I can give!”

Tim’s other self did not resist the swordsman’s grip, but instead slowly turned around to face him once more, his countenance noticeably softened as he looked at the swordsman with a wistful smile, “I can sense the purity of your heart, and the nobility of your intentions. But know this – he too had a pure heart and noble intentions, but he fell all the same.”

“Who is this ‘he’ that you’re talking about!?” Tim demanded as he grabbed his other self by the shoulders and shook him. “Are you talking about my biological father? Answer me!”

The other Timothy did not answer the Sentinel’s question, instead he placed his arms around Tim’s waist to hug him as he leaned in to rest his cheek against the young Sentinel’s shoulder, and whispered into his ear, “You do not fully comprehend this power yet, but it is your destiny nonetheless to forge a path with it – whether it leads to your prosperity or ruin will depend on you. This power you ask for shall be yours, but beware the dark temptations it brings.” The other Timothy began radiating a white light all over – faint at first, only to grow brighter with each passing second until Tim could see nothing but whiteness all around.

Tim’s eyelids snapped open, the young Sentinel finding himself back in his body. The first thing he noticed was the heirloom sword glowing once more, the turquoise light returning with greater intensity. Arcs of eldritch lightning continued to crackle and dance around his body, but the pain felt dulled as the Sentinel slowly rose to his feet even as Morlos continued to shock him with his spell.

“Morlos!” Timothy roared as his eyes flared with brilliant turquoise light, and a shockwave exploded from his body, blowing away the snow beneath his feet as a halo of matching light surrounded his body.

“There’s no way…” Morlos’ eyes went wide at the sight of Tim standing back up, resisting his spell. The dark mage’s countenance twisted into a mask of mixed emotions – with confusion and growing frustration chief among them. “You were on the brink moments ago! I had you at my mercy! Where does this strength come from!?” Morlos demanded as his floating crystals redirected their lightning from Telissa and Raea towards the stream of energy coming from his hands, merging together into a single, concentrated blast aimed at Tim.

Freed from Morlos’ magical torture, both women stopped their thrashing and screaming in a matter of seconds, instead now moaning quietly on the snow as they struggled to process the latest developments.

Tim glared at Morlos as the eldritch lightning diffused harmlessly against a barrier of turquoise light that formed a few inches in front of his chest, walking forward despite Morlos pouring everything he had into his spell to force the swordsman back onto his knees. 

“No… this can’t be!” Now it was Morlos’ turn to feel despair as the Scion’s voice quaked with palpable fear. Seeing his spell had no effect on his opponent at this point, Morlos ceased his attack and began to fly higher and higher into the air, “Your Eminence! Help me!” The Discordant took off at full speed, shooting into the air like a rocket with only one thought in his mind – survive at all costs.

Without missing a beat, Tim raised his sword and pointed it towards the sky in the direction of the fleeing Morlos. A humming noise emanated from the sword itself as it vibrated in the Sentinel’s hands, and a beam of energy in the same hue of turquoise as Tim’s aura blasted forth from the blade of his weapon, its intensity comparable to – or even greater than a Valkyrie-class airship’s main particle beam cannon, the clouds parting where the beam passed.

“No!” Morlos wailed as he spun around to witness a beam of energy coming up from the ground towards him, no doubt the handiwork of Timothy Shinestar. The dark mage made a desperate attempt to defend himself as his twin crystals glowed with a ghostly green light to weave a protective barrier that he poured everything into. Despite Morlos’ best efforts, his barrier withstood the beam for no more than two seconds before everything went white in his vision, and then everything turned black. Forever.

“He did it, right?” Telissa managed to haul herself up onto one knee, watching as the sky itself turned a brilliant white as far as the eye could see for a few seconds. “What a terrifying power… is that the power of the descendant of Sarachus that all those Drekis freaks kept talking about?” the Seeker said to no-one in particular as she recalled the Hunter-Killer’s dying words to Tim during the Chinatown ambush, as well as the epithet used by Morlos.

“Shinestar…” Raea muttered, her voice still weak as she limped towards Tim, her body still aching from the residual effects of Morlos’ spell. For a few seconds after the flash of white light that engulfed the sky faded, Tim continued to stand still, staring at the heavens with his heirloom sword held up high, his eyes aglow with such an intense turquoise aura that it was impossible to make out any traces of his sclerae, irises or pupils – just two glowing orbs of blue-green.

“Hey Raea…” Tim turned in the direction of his girlfriend with a weary smile, the turquoise aura fading as his eyes returned to normal. “Are you and Telissa alright?” The swordsman lowered his weapon and shuffled towards the redhead.

Raea nodded as Timothy slumped forward into her arms. Still weak from her ordeal, Raea’s own legs almost gave way as she tried to prop her boyfriend back up, “You’ve done it, Shinestar… that Scion, he’s gone. You saved us all…” Raea put her arms around Tim’s waist to give him a reassuring hug, before leaning in to tenderly stroke him on the head, ruffling his hair with her fingers.

“That’s good to hear…” Tim’s voice was haggard, but despite his exhaustion the young Sentinel managed to force a cheerful grin as he looked Raea in the eye. “Now let’s help the others-” Before Tim could say any more, the Sentinel suddenly seized up and broke into a violent coughing fit, spraying crimson from his mouth that splattered blood all over the snow below him.

“Timothy? What’s wrong?” Raea’s voice quaked with concern as she gently shook Tim a few times as she tried to hold onto him, but Tim was unresponsive as a glassy, unfocused look came into his eyes.

“I don’t know, Raea… I don’t know…” Tim murmured weakly as his body felt sluggish and his vision darkened. The last thing he remembered before the entire world went black was himself falling forward face-first towards the snow while Raea repeatedly screamed his name.

 

Segment 150: My Date with a Harbinger

Worry furrowed Tiara’s brows – if only for a fleeting second – as from her elevated position she could see the Drekis thralls break through the machines’ defensive phalanx, storming towards the KAF positions where the blizzard could not reach them. The aeromancer entertained the thought of redirecting the blizzard and dialling up its intensity at where the lines had been breached, but as the Drekis legions began to engage the Khazanians in close-quarters combat she quickly perished the thought upon realising redirecting the blizzard would risk her own allies getting caught in friendly fire.

Instead, the aeromancer maintained her present strategy, holding her current position and keeping the blizzard contained within the Drekis legion’s general area to hamper the Deminite Soldiers’ pyrokinesis and slow down melee-oriented minions as more of them swarmed towards the breach in the machines’ phalanx, like fluid gushing out of a leaky pipe.

With a bird’s eye view of the battlefield, Tiara multitasked between controlling the blizzard and keeping an eye out for Tim, ready to back him up in battle should the swordsman run into any trouble. A part of her chafed at Raea’s stubborn insistence on letting Tim fight on the frontlines – if he got himself killed in action, then everything Queen Relissan had planned would be for naught. But at the same time, it was also Tim’s own decision to fight at the front, and the aeromancer felt that she had to respect the young man’s decision, and that perhaps such was fate. 

“He believed in himself, it would be a disservice to not feel the same for him,” the disciple of the Powers That Be reassured herself that Tim is more than capable of handling himself in battle, and that his female companions – most important of all, Raea – would see to that, come hell or high water. She’d learned many things in being the Powers’ agent, and one of the most important of them all was that constantly anticipating the worst possible outcome often lead to one’s paranoid delusions becoming self-fulfilling prophecies. And for that, Tiara reminded herself to always keep her mind open to the possibility of positive outcomes, no matter what. 

However, none of that meant naivety or blind optimism, and as Drekis thralls continued to pour towards the breach in the machines’ formation, the aeromancer wasn’t content to simply regard it as somebody else’s problem when it was well within her own ability to intervene. Summoning a jetstream with her powers, Tiara rode the winds towards where the phalanx had been pierced. Twirling around in midair like a dancer, the aeromancer pulled the blizzard towards herself, cocooning herself within a vortex of fierce winds and swirling snow and ice as she dived towards the ground, descending like a white comet.

A noise resembling an explosion echoed across the battlefield, momentarily drowning out the noise of gunfire and the hellish cries of the Drekis thralls as seconds before impact, Tiara compressed the snowstorm into a sphere around herself and released it upon her dramatic touchdown in the middle of a Drekis horde, creating a powerful frost nova. The monsters nearest to her were instantly flash frozen into ice sculptures by the cold snap, before the shockwave shattered their frozen remains and scattered the shards to the wind; further away, light minions like Deminite Soldiers and Reptillions were swept off their feet and sent flying, while heavies such as Devonoxes were left frostbitten and snowblind, which left them wide open to heavy weapons fire from the KAF and their droid allies.

Through the blinding snowstorms, Tiara noticed a deathly red glow in the distance. The aeromancer’s body moved on instinct and muscle memory, rolling to the side as a potent beam of energy crossed the distance and carved a red-hot fissure through the ground where she’d been standing a fraction of a second ago. “Not one of those things again,” Tiara shook her head as the towering silhouette of a Hive Guard loomed into view against the gray, eyes still glowing with residual energy from its optic blast. 

Despite its lack of a mouth, the Hive Guard roared as it discharged another optic blast at Tiara, who leapt out of the way. By the time the aeromancer’s feet touched the snow, the behemoth of a minion was already charging towards her at a speed that should’ve been impossible for its hulking frame that was armoured like a colossus, brandishing the blades that its arms ended in instead of hands. As the Hive Guard rapidly  closed the distance, Tiara pulled the surrounding blizzard into her hands and condensed the ice and winds into a sphere-shaped elemental construct that resembled a swirling snowglobe.

“Destroy!” Tiara thrust her hands forward as the Hive Guard came within arm’s reach of the aeromancer. A piercing howl erupted as Tiara unleashed a spiralling white blast that was equal parts freezing and concussive, slamming into the giant thrall’s chest before it could reach her with its blades. For several seconds, there was so much snow and ice flying around that Tiara could see nothing but a pall of white. But when her vision cleared, the aeromancer saw that the Hive Guard was still standing – its body coated with frost and a section of its carapace visibly caved in from her attack, having been pushed back at least a good ten metres by the ice blast.

The Hive Guard lifted its head and growled, its eyes aglow as it began powering up another optic blast, but as Tiara looked around she saw that the machines were already repositioning themselves to seal up the breach in their formation. “I’m done entertaining you,” with a deft wave of her hand, the disciple of the Powers summoned a jetstream and launched herself into the air to avoid the Hive Guard’s optic blast. Seconds after Tiara’s tactical retreat from the creature, the Hive Guard – along with an entire column of lesser thralls – was obliterated by a particle beam fired by the Libra’s main gun battery.

Having played her part in stabilising the frontline, Tiara took to the air to resume her search for Tim. Her sharp eyes quickly caught sight of the familiar flashes of turquoise light, and as she descended towards its position she soon saw Tim embroiled in battle with a sinister-looking hooded figure; whom Tiara deduced was likely some high-ranking servant of Drekis. What she found concerning was that the young swordsman appeared to be having a fair deal of trouble with his opponent, who teleported around using shadow-walks and flew around with magically-enhanced speeds capable of leaving ghostly afterimages in his wake.

The dark mage always kept himself one step ahead in Timothy’s cat-and-mouse chase, but Tiara was certain that the Sentinel was only playing the role of the cat for as long as the dark mage allowed it. It was not an opponent that Timothy could handle on his own, or even with Telissa and Raea’s help for that matter. “Hang on, Shinestar!” Tiara announced her decision to dive towards Tim’s position to provide him with some much-needed backup.

However, before the aeromancer could make good on her decision to do so, a peculiar sight registered itself at the edge of her field of vision. It was long and pliable and snaked towards her, leading Tiara to assume it was a serpent of some kind – it only took a split second before she got a good look at it, and realised it was in fact an absurdly long sash made from a dark purple fabric with a sheen and texture comparable to silk, but it moved like it had a life of its own as it flew towards her in a serpentine path.

Tiara tried moving out of its way, thinking that it was attempting to seize and constrict her neck, but the silken construct reared up like a cobra and with a snap, went taut as its tip shot towards her with a sharp swishing noise like a spear that was thrust at her with inhuman force. Had the aeromancer not tilted her head at the last millisecond, she was certain that attack would’ve impaled her throat. A sharp sting followed by a brief warm sensation at the side of her neck was all Tiara needed to know that she had not escaped unscathed, as a trickle of blood ran down her neck towards her clavicle and stained her coat. 

Tiara glanced around, turning side to side to look for where the attack came from. It didn’t look like anything the Bio-Fighters or Ptera-Deminites were capable of, and they were locked in combat with the Libra and the mechs that were still maintaining a defensive spherical formation around the Valkyrie, now supported by a team of airborne Sentinels led by Uberman. While on the ground, the Drekis hordes were busy engaging the WinterScar droids and the KAF, which left the aeromancer wondering just who could be responsible for the earlier attack on her.

It didn’t take long for her to get her answer as her ears picked up a sharp swishing noise coming from below, as a sash of red silk shot up from the ground towards the aeromancer like a striking cobra. By the time Tiara’s eyes registered the movements, the cloth had already seized her right ankle and snaked up her leg all the way to her thigh, wrapping itself tightly around her limb like a python. 

There was hardly any time for Tiara to formulate an escape or use her winds to free herself, as she found herself being swung violently through the air. As the length of fabric extended itself and momentarily went slack, the realisation set in for Tiara that her attacker was swinging her in a whipping motion, and any moment she would be smashed into the ground like a bullwhip being cracked. In that brief window, Tiara summoned a jetstream that was compressed until it was narrow as a wire, unleashing it at the silk binding her leg.

The explosively released air shot forth like a length of monofilament, slicing the fabric at the exact moment of the whiplash. It was enough to prevent Tiara from being smashed into the ground, but not enough to save her from a crash landing as her body hit the compacted snow and went into an uncontrolled tumble and roll before crashing into a large snowdrift.

Seconds later, Tiara’s hand burst out of the snow as the aeromancer dug her way back to the surface, shaking snow off her hair and clothes as she struggled back onto her feet. The impact wasn’t particularly devastating by Tiara’s reckoning, but she still made it a point to gently stretch her limbs and do some basic joint rotations to ensure that she hadn’t broken anything in the fall. The aeromancer nodded before heaving a soft sigh of relief to learn that outside of being dazed by the initial crash, she had remained in one piece.

There was no time for the lavender-haired maiden to catch her breath, as she felt faint vibrations running through the snow she was standing on. Acting on sheer reflex, she sprang to the side just as another length of silk sash – its end twisted tightly into a lance-like point – pierced through the snow from below; had her reactions been even a split second slower, Tiara was certain she would’ve ended up like one of Vlad Tepes’ victims. 

The silken construct slinked back under the snow upon missing its attack, and Tiara responded to several sets of vibrations running under her feet by dodging a series of thrusting attacks coming from the ground below. Four lengths of silk sashes – two purple and two scarlet – burst from the snow near Tiara and rose into the air, swaying side to side like cobras under a snake charmer’s song before suddenly rearing up, ready to launch a four-way attack on the aeromancer.

Deciding that the best defense in her current situation is to go on the offense, Tiara pulled the blizzard towards herself and shaped the winds into a web of monofilament-thin jetstreams before launching them at the silk sashes in an omnidirectional storm of razor wind, shredding them into harmless scraps of cloth that fluttered to the ground. 

The now-shortened streamers of silk retreated back under the snow, but this time Tiara was able to track their movements, finding that they were retreating back to their apparent source. About a hundred feet away stood a young-looking and attractive woman with waist-length dark of a dark chestnut hue who looked human, but the aeromancer knew better than to judge a book by its cover.

One dead giveaway that there was a lot more than meets the eye to this woman was the fact that she wasn’t wearing a single scrap of clothing – all that passed for clothing on her slender-waisted and voluptuous form were two pairs of silk sashes that alternated between a royal purple and rich scarlet. One pair wrapped snugly around her chest and tied into a bow just below her sternum before their remaining lengths were looped loosely around her arms. The other pair was wound closely over her hips and crotch and tied behind her back in a bow before the remaining metres of cloth snaked around her thighs and trailed past her ankles. It was as if she simply took several absurdly long silk sashes and fashioned them into a makeshift bikini. Despite the scandalous state of her attire, the woman didn’t seem to be affected by the frigid terrain in the slightest.

“Who are you, and what do you want with me?” Tiara glared at the strange woman, keeping a vortex of air around her body so that she could perform her aeromancy techniques on a short notice.

“Who I am is not important,” the mysterious girl’s voice felt like a sugar-coated poison – musical and pleasant to the ear, yet utterly devoid of empathy or compassion. It was the voice of someone who takes pleasure in making others grovel and kneel before her. A length of silk slithered over the lower half of her face as she lifted her right hand in front of her mouth and stared at Tiara through half-lidded eyes, “What is important though, is what Magister Avalon wants me to do to you.”

“Jon Avalon! Somehow, that doesn't surprise me,” The vortex around Tiara grew fiercer as the aeromancer recalled the Drekis Magister whom she briefly fought against at Walshin, “You must be one of that Magister’s associates then.”

“That’s right,” the silk fluttered away from the woman’s face to reveal her smug expression as she got into a fighting stance, her body swaying with a gentle, hypnotic rhythm resembling the Snake Fist from Chinese martial arts. The loose ends of her silk sashes moved in sync with her body, undulating and swaying like the heads of a hydra. “Know that you just scored a date with his alluring Harbinger, Kalia… It’ll be your last!” 

Kalia performed a lance hand strike, thrusting her right palm forward, fingertips first. Responding to her movements, the loose end of the sash looped around her right arm reared up before shooting forward like a striking cobra, magically lengthening to itself to close the gap between herself and Tiara as it shot towards the aeromancer like a spear.

“Sorry, but fighting for my life against a Vlad Tepes fangirl with an exhibitionist streak is hardly my kind of date,” Tiara leapt and performed a double corkscrew flip in the air to avoid getting skewered by Kalia’s opening strike. Her adversary followed up with a flurry of stabbing attacks from her silken constructs from different angles, their movements so fast that they registered as little more than blurs of red and purple to the unaided eye, but Tiara had no need to track Kalia’s attacks by sight. The sashes’ movements displaced the surrounding air that the aeromancer was able to pick up with her senses that allowed her to telegraph Kalia’s strikes in a precognitive manner.

As four of Kalia’s sashes converged towards Tiara from multiple directions, the aeromancer performed a series of Tai Chi-like circular motions with her hands and weaved a network of wire-thin jetstreams around herself in a spherical pattern, as the silken constructs thrust towards her and met the streams of fast-moving, compressed air, the result resembled wood being fed into a wood chipper – the trails of fabric shredded on contact, reduced to confetti-like scraps that quickly scattered to the wind.

“Truly a stellar performance, weather witch,” Kalia purred with sadistic delight as the silk sashes pulled back towards her body. The Harbinger stared at the frayed ends where Tiara had shredded the silk. “But no matter how much you shear off, they’ll just keep coming,” to prove her point, the portion of the sashes that were cut off by Tiara’s counterattack glowed before returning to their former pristine state, as though Tiara had never damaged them at all.

“The name’s Tiara; at least know the name of the girl whom you’re so excited to have a date with!” Tiara gave a huff of frustration as she placed her left hand on her hip and pointed her right hand at Kalia, or rather at the silk sashes trailing from her body, swaying rhythmically like the heads of a hydra, “If you say they’ll just keep coming, then I’ll just have to take them out at the source.”

“Rawr, aren’t you a spicy one?” Kalia giggled with her right hand over her mouth, before beckoning Tiara with her right hand. Mimicking her gesture, the sash that was looped around her right arm reared up and performed the same motion as well. “I’d like to see you try, Tiara!” With a cruel sneer on her lips, Kalia performed a lance-hand thrust with her right hand, sending the end of the sash flying towards Tiara in a serpentine path; it was quickly joined by a second sash from her left arm, as both of them performed a flurry of spear-like thrusts at the aeromancer.

Tiara’s body moved like the wind, telegraphing Kalia’s attacks through the displacements in the air – the strikes were relentless, and came with such speed that the two sashes appeared like a dozen. The aeromancer had to admit that if she relied on just her sight to track her opponent’s attacks, dodging would be impossible. But where her eyes might deceive her, Tiara’s ability to sense displacements of the air coupled with her honed instincts allowed her to see through the deception and stay ahead of Kalia – but just barely.

As Kalia sent out all four of her sashes in a multidirectional strike, Tiara once more used the winds to shred the incoming streamers of silk into confetti. As Kalia recoiled from having her attack thwarted, the aeromancer followed by compressing the blizzard into a sphere-shaped elemental construct in her hands and thrust her palms toward the Harbinger with a single declaration. “Destroy!”

A white vortex-like stream of compressed and freezing air blasted forth from Tiara’s hands, but unlike the previous times she’d used this technique such as against Jon Avalon at Walshin or her recent Hive Guard encounter, the aeromancer focused the blast of air into a single point, effectively turning it from a concussive blast into a drill tip made of nothing but air.

In response, Kalia crossed her arms over her chest to take a defensive stance. At once, all four of her sashes bundled together in front of her, folding themselves numerous times and packing themselves together tightly to form a defensive barrier not unlike a kevlar vest. The drilling blast of air met the Harbinger’s silk armour – the first few layers of enchanted fabric were instantly flayed off, but with each successive barrier that Tiara’s attack managed to shred her wind blast lost a bit of its potency. “Mmm, come to think of it, I realised that both you and I have something in common,” seeing how her defenses were holding up against Tiara’s assault, the Harbinger once more took the chance to trash talk the aeromancer, wondering if she too might notice a common theme in their fighting styles.

Undeterred by the ineffectiveness of her attack, Tiara redoubled her efforts as she intensified the winds under her control – increasing the pressure and velocity. She could feel her own muscles and joints ache as she pushed her aeromancy to a level that she hadn’t done so in a long time, wearing the strain on her face as her lips parted to reveal a set of clenched teeth while muffled groans escaped her throat. With a defiant yell, Tiara poured everything she had into the blast, suddenly increasing its intensity by nearly a full order of magnitude; the winds so powerful that their vibrations sent tremors through the ground beneath both Tiara and Kalia’s feet.

The sudden increase in magnitude allowed Tiara’s attack to pierce through the remaining layers of Kalia’s defenses, ripping apart the barriers of enchanted silk until the woman behind them was exposed – but in doing so the aeromancer’s attack had lost nearly all its potency; what started as a drilling blast of compressed air felt little more than a forceful shove by the time the winds reached Kalia, causing the Harbinger to recoil and stumble before quickly regaining her footing.

“Impressive, Tiara,” It was evident that Kalia had poured just as much effort into her defenses as the Harbinger’s dark brown bangs were plastered to her temples and forehead by sweat, while her chest – covered in a makeshift bikini fashioned from her own enchanted sashes – rose and fell rhythmically, “You should consider this an honour – I’m not one to give compliments so easily.” Despite the teasing nature of Kalia’s voice, there was a smile on her face that suggested she had a genuine if begrudging respect for the aeromancer’s abilities.

Tiara wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her left hand before brushing the snow off her coat and skirt, “This much I can see – we both wield things that are normally considered ‘soft’ as weapons capable of overcoming the hard.”

“That’s right!” Kalia giggled, clapping her hands. “Despite Magister Avalon’s orders for me to kill you, I think it would be such a waste of a rare talent… So how about an alternate proposal? Ever considered serving His Eminence? I’m sure he would appreciate a woman of your abilities.”

“Thanks for the offer, but I’ll pass – I don’t trust servants of Drekis, least of all someone like you,” Tiara flatly rejected Kalia’s offer for defection, raising her right hand before performing a downward swatting gesture as though smacking a mosquito.

“Looks like I underestimated you,” It was a response Kalia had anticipated – truth be told, the Harbinger had no intention of ever letting the aeromancer live, though she’d hoped Tiara would’ve at least lowered her guard. Kalia felt an updraft of air around her as Tiara raised her hand, and for a moment the Harbinger wondered what her opponent was up to before a loud whoosh filled her ears as Tiara brought her hand down.

Tiara had to admit this was unlike her usual self – there was no finesse in this particular feat of aeromancy, just brute force as a concussive blast of air slammed into Kalia like a wrecking ball, sending her flying back a good twenty metres before tumbling across the snow and ploughing into a large snowdrift.

“You will pay dearly for this!” Kalia’s sashes whipped around wildly as the snowdrift exploded, scattering loose snow all around. Despite her soft appearance, the Harbinger was a lot tougher than she looked as Kalia appeared more enraged than injured by Tiara’s attack. Kalia performed two consecutive lance-hand thrusts in a one-two combo, sending the sashes around her left and right arm after Tiara.

‘She’s fast!’ Tiara thought as she dodged a flurry of stabs from the silken constructs, before backflipping twice to avoid an underground attack as Kalia sent the sashes trailing down past her legs to burrow under the snow to impale the aeromancer from below. Tiara summoned a vortex of razor wind to shred the enchanted sashes before riding a jetstream into the air, looking to take to the skies to put some distance between herself and her foe, but the same magic that Kalia uses to regenerate her sashes also gave them the ability to increase their length with no apparently limit, as the streamers of cloth now stretched for hundreds of metres as they snaked through the air after Tiara, mimicking the air-swimming movements of an Eastern dragon.

“Nice try, Tiara,” Kalia smirked at the futility of Tiara’s attempt to put distance between herself and the Harbinger, “But my enchanted sashes can extend their reach to anywhere I have a line of sight to!” Kalia watched as her opponent rolled, dived and flew loop-to-loops in an attempt to shake off the pursuing sashes, but no matter where the aeromancer flew, the magically-animated silk was always one step behind – and Kalia knew it was only a matter of time before Tiara slipped up.

‘Looks like I have no other choice,’ The aeromancer thought; she was prepared to conjure more storms to ward off Kalia’s attacks – even if doing so would compromise her ability to manipulate the blizzard in the Khazanians’ favour. But before Tiara could commit to her decision, the aeromancer saw what looked like an intense beam of energy blasting into the sky – its intensity comparable to, if not greater than a Valkyrie’s main gun. But the turquoise hue of the beam told Tiara that this was no particle beam cannon. A split second later, the entire sky turned a brilliant white, as if a nuke had gone off, and Tiara was forced to tuck her head under her arms to prevent herself from staring straight into the blinding glare, before an immense shockwave rippled through the air.

Momentarily deprived of sight, and with her aeromancy senses overwhelmed by the shockwave, Tiara thought for a second she was a goner. But as soon as her senses returned to her, the disciple of the Powers realised that Kalia had been just as distracted by the sudden energy beam and blinding flash as she was, as she noticed how the silk sashes that had been pursuing her were now lashing around randomly. She caught sight of Kalia, her hands still covering her eyes – it would appear that the Harbinger did not avert her gaze in time.

“Let’s finish this,” Tiara’s eyes narrowed with gritty resolve as she cocooned herself within a vortex of swirling air and dived towards the stunned Kalia like a hawk. She had to admit it was a risky gambit on her part, but she wasn’t about to pass up an opportunity to strike a finishing blow on her opponent, as she began to compress the blizzard’s snow and wind into a sphere in her hands.

Unfortunately for Tiara, Kalia recovered from her incapacitated state sooner than expected, and the Harbinger wasted no time recalling the enchanted silk towards her body and sending them flying back up towards the aeromancer in an attempt to skewer her mid-dive. Tiara zig-zagged in her flight to avoid the spearing attacks, but this time her agility was compromised due to her commitment to her attack, her opponent finally managed to score a clean hit. The aeromancer narrowly avoided getting impaled in the chest, but the stabbing end of one of Kalia’s sashes managed to gouge her shoulder quite deeply as it whiffed past.

Tiara gave a yelp of pain as she grimaced, her divebomb attack turned into an uncontrolled spin and nosedive like a shot down fighter plane. But the aeromancer would not even get the chance to crash onto the snow, as one of Kalia’s sashes wrapped itself several times around her lower body to bind her legs together, dragging her towards the ground with great force. Plumes of snow flew into the air as Tiara hit the surface, cratering the packed snow beneath her on impact.

The disciple of the Powers That Be groaned as she struggled to raise herself from the ground, but with her legs still bound together by numerous loops of enchanted silk, all she could manage was turn over from laying on her belly to laying on her back as Kalia stood over her, mocking her current predicament with a smirk of unmitigated smugness.

Two of Kalia’s sashes slithered across the snow and bound each of Tiara’s arms before hoisting the aeromancer off the ground in a crucified pose. “Well, this has been quite the show, hasn’t it? But here is where the farce ends,” the Harbinger giggled with undisguised malice as the end of her fourth sash twisted several times to shape itself into a corkscrew-like construct, its pointy end aimed at Tiara’s chest. “But as someone who believes in giving credit where it’s due, I shall reward your bravery by letting you decide where you’d like an extra orifice… or orifices; I hope you can take plenty!”

‘Seems like I’ll have to play my trump card; Neva, to me!’ Tiara issued a psychic command to her elemental guardian. In the meantime, the aeromancer faced Kalia at spearpoint with a defiant smirk as she sought to buy time for Neva’s arrival, “Thanks, but no. I like the number of orifices the way they are now.”

“Oho, you’ve got spunk!” Kalia giggled as she leaned in to grab the lapels of Tiara’s coat and peeled the garment aside to expose the aeromancer’s bare shoulder and the wound she’d inflicted upon it, smearing the aeromancer’s blood onto her fingers. The provocatively-dressed brunette licked Tiara’s blood off her fingers with relish as though it were honey, “I think I’ll have a fun time breaking you… maybe I’ll start by taking your right eye,” Kalia smirked, viewing the aeromancer’s defiance as a challenge as the corkscrew-shaped silk construct reared back like a viper poised to strike, its ‘head’ aimed at Tiara’s right eye. 

“What’s this?” Before the Harbinger could commence her torture-execution of Tiara, a roar from the skies interrupted her. Kalia lifted her head to watch the clouds above them part, and a beam of white light illuminated their surroundings like a spotlight. The Harbinger’s eyes went wide with shock and growing trepidation as Neva dived towards her with his jaws agape, the ice dragon’s body gleaming like crystal under the light.

Tiara landed on the snow with a soft thump as Kalia released her hold on the aeromancer, her full attention now given to the ice dragon that was descending upon her like the wrath of God. “Do it, Neva,” Tiara picked herself up from the ground, giving Neva a nod as she pulled her coat back over her shoulder.

Kalia yelled defiantly as she lashed out with all four of her enchanted sashes, sending them out in pairs that coiled together to form a pair of silken constructs shaped like a pair of giant hands, one seizing Neva by the neck, and another grabbing his snout in an attempt to restrain him. The ice dragon roared, and thrashed his body side-to-side and snapped its jaws in response, using his dorsal spines and teeth to shred the silken constructs.

“How barbaric! Away from me!” Kalia growled as she retracted her sashes towards herself, reshaped them into a quartet of spring-shaped constructs, and used them to leap back, barely avoiding a crushing bite from Neva’s jaws. The brunette gritted her teeth as she shaped the ends of her sashes into spear-like constructs and launched a flurry of stabbing attacks at the elemental guardian, but the divine essence which animated the ice that formed Neva’s body also rendered it far harder than ordinary ice, and Kalia’s attacks only broke off a few of Neva’s dorsal spines and left some chips and scuffs on the ice.

Realising the ineffectiveness of her spear-like constructs, Kalia took to coiling her sashes tightly around Neva’s body, binding the ice dragon’s jaws together, and constricting the length of his icy body with many metres of enchanted silk in a desperate attempt to wrangle the ice dragon. 

For a moment, Kalia allowed herself to think that her silk had come out the victor in this serpentine struggle as she forced Neva’s head to the ground, and even felt her usual smugness return as she turned her head towards Tiara’s direction as she regarded the aeromancer with a haughty smile, as if to tell her, “Is this the best you can do?”

Tiara said nothing in response, but folded her arms over her chest and shook her head at Kalia with a mocking smile, her expression implying, “I pity the fool.”

After a few seconds of stillness, Neva roared and thrashed his body around, quickly overpowering his restraints and shredding the magical fabric; but before Kalia could retract her sashes, the ice dragon seized the streamers of silk with his mouth and held them fast.

Kalia found her own weapons turned against her as Neva proceeded to thrash about once more, whipping the brunette around using her own sashes. Kalia experienced a moment of weightlessness as Neva tossed her into the air, followed by an intense g-force as Neva dunked her back down towards the surface, slamming the brunette into the ground with bone-crushing impact.

Neva roared as he thrashed Kalia around like a dog playing with a chew toy, whipping the Harbinger into the air and slamming her back down with an almost metronomic rhythm, over and over again. As the ice dragon whipped Kalia into the air to slam her down for what appeared to be the tenth time, a faint ripping sound came over the air as Kalia's sashes sundered on their own in a process akin to the autotomy of a lizard’s tail, leaving nothing but trails of silk in Neva’s mouth that twitched and writhed around from the Harbinger’s residual magic. 

Taking advantage of the momentary distraction, Kalia – battered and bloody – used her remaining reserves of strength to shape her sashes into winglike constructs and fly away, but not without looking over her shoulder to give Tiara and her elemental guardian one last hate-filled glare. “I may have lost this battle, but you will find no glory in this victory,” Kalia hissed through teeth gritted in pain as she wiped the blood streaming down her temples, “Because Magister Avalon will win the war, mark my words!” With her parting shot delivered, the Harbinger quickly vanished into the dark clouds.

“What a bit- nevermind, good riddance,” Tiara clutched her wounded shoulder and slumped onto one knee as the adrenaline rush wore off before she could curse her adversary. The aeromancer forced a smile as she gently patted Neva on the snout before resting herself against the ice dragon’s head to prop herself up, nuzzling her cheek against Neva’s snout. “Thank you, Neva… I couldn’t have done this without you.” 

After a few seconds of cuddling her elemental guardian, Neva made a soft rumbling noise as he lifted his head to raise Tiara back onto her feet. The aeromancer locked eyes with Neva, and nodded her head. “I understand, I still have my mission,” Tiara gave Neva a tired smile and waved her elemental guardian goodbye as Neva ascended to the skies with a roar before vanishing from sight amongst the dark clouds.

Tiara picked up a scrap of torn fabric, one of the many littered all over the surrounding terrain in the wake of her battle with Kalia. No longer animated by the Harbinger’s dark arts, the aeromancer had no problem tearing them into strips using her bare hands, fashioning the torn cloth into a makeshift dressing for her shoulder wound. “Not good, but it’ll do for now,” Tiara said to herself before wandering off in search of Tim.

It didn’t take long for her to locate Tim, lying unconscious in Raea’s arms as the redhead shouted Tim’s name. “Oh no…” Tiara could only mutter two words, her voice trembling with worry as she hurried over to Tim and Raea’s position. Somewhere in the back of the aeromancer’s mind, Kalia’s words came back to haunt her – the Harbinger had taunted that despite losing her battle with Tiara, Jon Avalon would ultimately win the war. Between Tim now out of action, and the blizzard being no longer under her control due to her battle with the Harbinger, Tiara realised that Kalia’s parting shot wasn’t merely some sore loser’s trash talk – it was a prophecy of darker things to come.

 

Segment 151: Clash of Commanders, Round Three

Repulsors roared as Uberman accelerated, launching his heavily-armoured body fists-first at Jon like a battering ram, but the Magister had telegraphed Uberman’s actions as soon as he saw him throttle up his repulsors and tugged on Zegrin’s reins to send the dragon into a dive, narrowly avoiding the cyborg’s flying tackle.

“He’s fast!” Uberman exclaimed, taken aback by Zegrin’s manoeuvrability. In his previous battles with Jon Avalon, the Sentinel leader faced the Magister’s mount on the ground, where the dragon was slow and ponderous – but Zegrin’s performance in the air was a far cry from his ground battles. The dragon proved to be a fast and agile flyer, performing aerial manoeuvres with his massive frame that appeared to defy physics and inertia.

Uberman fired his forearm blasters in a rhythmic sequence as Zegrin pitched sharply and made a rapid ascent towards the cyborg, rolling side to side to avoid the concussive beams. From Zegrin’s saddle, Jon Avalon returned fire by unleashing a sword beam from his weapon – but Uberman telegraphed the attack on noticing the halo around the Magister’s energy sword flare up, narrowly dodging the energy blast with a well-timed evasive roll.

Jon’s sword beam turned out to be a feint that allowed Zegrin to close the remainder of the distance, his jaws snapping shut and clamping down tightly on the cyborg’s right leg. The armour creaked and groaned as the dragon gnashed his teeth against Uberman’s leg – the composite plating proving sturdy enough to resist sustained pressure from Zegrin’s sharp teeth and crushing jaws. 

Using his other leg, Uberman landed kicks on Zegrin’s snout, his armoured heel making a dull thud every time it connected with the dragon’s head. Zegrin growled and shook his head; the blows hurt, but the dragon had the tenacity of a bulldog as he continued to bite down and hold the cyborg in place.

“Excellent work, Zegrin! Hold him!” The sound of Jon’s voice made Uberman snap his gaze over to the dragon’s saddle, where the Magister was powering up a near point-blank sword beam at the Sentinel leader, the energy sword’s halo casting a ghostly green light over Jon’s features. 

“No, you don’t!” Uberman grunted as he raised his left arm to fire a close-range concussive blast at Jon Avalon, but the Magister anticipated the Sentinel leader’s attempt to beat him to the draw and avoided the shot from his forearm cannon by backflipping off Zegrin’s saddle, plunging towards the ground with a chuckle.

Uberman turned his attention back to Zegrin, winding up with his left leg and firing up the leg armour’s repulsor array to add extra velocity to his kick. The kick connected to the side of the dragon’s head with a faint crack as Zegrin’s jaws relaxed their grip on the cyborg’s right leg for a moment. Uberman followed up by firing both forearm blasters point-blank into the dragon’s torso, the concussive beam’s brutal impact carrying enough kinetic energy to send Zegrin flying backwards while going into an uncontrolled spin.

The dragon recovered from his reeling state and roared at Uberman before performing a yaw to circle away from him, leaving the Sentinel leader to wonder what became of the Magister. A warning flashed across his armour’s HUD as his sensors picked up a Bio-Fighter flying below him – the biomechanoid, performed an abrupt pitch as it made a climb towards Uberman’s position, the HUD readouts indicating the enemy rapidly gaining altitude.

Blue-white flashes cutting through the clouds below Uberman warned him of enemy fire; with a dexterity that belied his heavily-armoured frame, the cyborg performed a barrel roll to avoid a volley of particle beams as a Bio-Fighter soared past him – and a shocking reveal that Jon Avalon had hitched a ride on the biomechanoid by hanging onto its underbelly with his free hand while the halo of his energy sword blazed and flared.

With a mocking laugh, Jon swung his sword in a backhanded slash to unleash a sword beam at Uberman – caught off guard by the Magister’s unorthodox method of returning to the fray, there was nothing the Sentinel leader could do except cross his arms together to tank the energy blast head-on. Warnings flashed across the Uber Mech Armour’s HUD as Uberman’s frame was rocked by the sword beam’s impact that created an explosion accompanied by the blast’s residual energy diffusing into smaller bolts that scattered randomly across their aerial arena. 

At almost the same time Jon unleashed his sword beam, the Magister jumped off the Bio-Fighter while Uberman was still in a defensive stance, diving towards the cyborg with the intent to drive his energy sword deep into his chest.

Uberman’s reactions were quick – but not quick enough – the Magister managed to drive the tip of his energy sword and a few inches of its blade into the Sentinel leader’s chest before his massive armoured hand gripped Jon’s weapon to stop its blade from plunging any deeper into his body, but the damage was already done as arcs of electricity accompanied by wisps of smoke rose from where Uberman’s chest armour was breached.

For a few seconds, the two adversaries stared face-to-face; Uberman’s featureless faceplate glowing a deep red, while Avalon wore a cold smirk on his face – the Magister fought the cyborg to drive his energy sword even deeper in. Despite his smug expression, it was evident that Avalon could not outmuscle Uberman as his gauntleted hands trembled under immense effort; but the energy blade would not go a single millimeter deeper as Uberman – despite the damages sustained to his frame – kept the Magister at bay.

In response, Uberman used his free hand to land several bodyshots on Jon, his punches hitting the Magister in the ribs and midsection, but Jon’s energy sheath and battle armour absorbed the Sentinel leader’s hits – and despite the pain shooting through his body with every strike, Jon’s grip on his weapon didn’t weaken by an iota as he continued to wrestle Uberman to drive his weapon further in, the two combatants locked in a deadly stalemate.

Jon Avalon pressed his feet against Uberman’s midsection and braced the pommel of his energy sword against his shoulder – the Magister’s combination of leverage and sheer determination paid off as blade slipped an inch deeper into Uberman’s chest, as more arcs of electricity crackled from the breach in the cyborg’s armour as Uberman screamed.

“That’s an astonishingly… human response. I wonder, are you screaming in pain, or from fear?” Jon found himself fascinated by the all too human scream coming from the voice synthesisers in Uberman’s armour. Could it be that the suit was built with a feedback system that translates battle damage to pain? Or was Uberman – born a man, reborn as a machine – simply fearful of dying a second time? Just how much humanity does his cybernetic foe still have inside that armoured shell? “Only one way to find out; I’m cutting this suit open to see how much of a man is still inside!”

In a desperate gambit, Uberman wound up his arm and channeled all his energy into a single punch from his free hand in stereo with a point-blank blast from his forearm cannon. A brilliant flash of white light exploded from the point of impact as the attack breached Jon’s energy sheath and buckled a section of the Magister’s breastplate, accompanied by a faint crack of his ribs. The powerful blow sent Jon flying back, spraying crimson from his mouth. Just as Jon appeared set to freefall towards the surface, thousands of metres below, Zegrin swooped back into the fray. 

Despite his injury, Jon managed to grab hold of the end of Zegrin’s tail. With a whip of his mighty tail, the dragon catapulted his master upwards, who somersaulted a few times through the air before landing in Zegrin’s saddle. “Heh, interesting. This is the most fun I’ve had in years,” Jon chuckled as he wiped the trail of blood off the corner of his mouth with the back of his free hand while pointing his energy sword at Uberman. “You know, I wish this could go on forever. But sadly, good things must all come to an end.”

“You’re out of your of mind, Jon,” Uberman clutched at the breach in his armour with one hand, still emitting smoke and arcs of electricity, while his other hand kept its fist pointed at Jon, forearm cannon making a faint high-pitched whine as it remained primed and ready to fire on a moment’s notice.

“If your beliefs are representative of the typical Khazanian mindset, I can see why this world – like so many before it – is doomed,” There was no arrogance or mockery in Jon Avalon’s retort; only clinical detachment, coming off as less of a taunt and more like a researcher delivering a report. “This is where you and I are different. You Khazanians, like everyone else, have hopes and dreams to live for, loved ones to go back to, reputations to uphold. Us true believers have transcended these illusions; for the sake of His Eminence’s grand vision, we are prepared to give up everything, even our very lives.”

The Magister gave his sword a few theatrical flourishes, waving it through the air before levelling its tip at Uberman’s chest once more, his eyes narrowed, “Tell me, Uberman – are you prepared to do the same to protect this world? Are you willing to become someone that your present self would abhor, in order to win at any cost?”

“I’ll leave it to God to judge,” Uberman pointed his right index finger at Jon as his optics glowed a deep red behind his faceplate. “Right now, all that matters to me is ending the threat!”

The instant Uberman was done speaking, in the distance a powerful turquoise beam of energy streaked through the sky, catching the attention of both the SLJ leader and the Magister as they turned their heads in the direction where the beam came from. Seconds later, the roar of an explosion drowned out the noise of the surrounding battlefield as the entire sky filled with a blinding white light.

“What was that!?” It took a fraction of a second for Uberman’s optics to adjust. As his armour’s visual systems applied a polarisation filter, the cyborg noticed that both Jon and Zegrin were both blinded by the energy blast’s light. The Magister did nothing except hover in place on his mount, a hand raised over his eyes while bearing a pained grimace on his face. 

Uberman cocked back his right fist as he fired up his repulsors, intent on seizing the opportunity to land a decisive strike on his adversary. In that instant, Jon Avalon’s words came back to haunt him, “Are you willing to become someone that your present self would abhor, in order to win at any cost?” The Sentinel leader knew that if Jon were in his place, he would’ve waited for the sensory deprivation to pass before resuming their duel, such was his code of honour when it comes to personal combat.

“My responsibility is to protect as many Khazanian lives as possible, not to entertain some psychopath!” Uberman vocalised his internal monologue out loud as he threw himself at the blinded Magister, rationalising his decision not as a cheap shot, but as a pragmatic necessity that outweighed any concerns about chivalrous conduct – the ends justify the means, even if he loathed saying those exact words.

“I did not think you had it in you, Uberman!” Uberman’s hesitation lasted only a fraction of a second, but it was all the time Jon Avalon needed to recover. The Magister acted in near-synchronicity as the Sentinel leader; the millisecond Uberman closed the distance, Jon called on his remaining energy reserves to initiate his Darkenfire transformation – his body wreathed in spectral green flames that materialised into the signature enclosed helm and additional armour of his enhanced form. In an instant, his energy sheath flared out and reacted with the surrounding air to form a spherical defensive matrix around himself and Zegrin. The protective shield rippled with spectral green energy as Uberman’s right straight connected, generating a mighty shockwave and energy pulse that sent the Sentinel leader flying back while pitching uncontrollably.

“Y’know, of all the enemies I’ve faced, none have evoked respect and disgust in equal measure quite like you,” Jon’s voice echoed within the confines of his helm as he pointed the tip of his energy sword at Uberman. The cyborg flew straight at Jon once more, only to meet the same result as the barrier emitted a burst of energy on contact that repulsed Uberman and launched him back like a tennis ball bouncing off a wall. “Your conviction… That ruthless drive to achieve your vision at any cost is something I respect; what disgusts me however, is that you chase a vision centered around things that are so subjective, so transient… so illusory.”

“SHUT UP!” Uberman pointed both fists forward, but instead of launching himself at Jon like before, the cyborg overclocked the output of his concussion blasters and fired both forearm cannons at the Magister, unleashing a continual torrent of raw kinetic force. The sky lit up a second time, this time by the reddish-white of Uberman’s overclocked concussion beams, and the ghostly green of Jon Avalon’s Darkenfire-enhanced energy sheath pushing back against the incoming stream of energy.

“So… that’s how it’s going to be huh?” Behind his helm’s faceplate, Jon gritted his teeth as he dug deep into his reserves to maintain the defensive barrier as the two opposing energies clashed in the sky; parts of Uberman’s concussive beams diffused on meeting Jon’s barrier, creating smaller rays that struck friendlies and hostiles on the ground without discrimination – likewise, Uberman’s beams colliding with Jon’s barrier also caused sections of the wall of energy to diffuse as green bolts of eldritch energy that fell towards the ground to explode indiscriminately against Khazanians and Drekis minions alike.

The clash of commanders came to a head as a blinding white flash filled the sky a second time, followed a split second later by the roar of an explosion that drowned out the cacophony of the surrounding battlefield. As the light faded, the aftermath of the cataclysmic collision of energies was revealed as Uberman remained airborne despite the ruined state of his cybernetic frame – his repulsors sputtering, his joints emitting sparks and wisps of smoke while his armour’s cooling vents blasted jets of steam.

Jon Avalon appeared to fare worse, barely holding onto the reins of Zegrin’s saddle, back in his base form, his energy sheath flickering weakly. The bill had finally come due for the Magister after his initial duel with Uberman at Walshin and prolonged use of his Darkenfire form during the siege of Mid-Gate, and after scraping the bottom of the barrel in his duelling energy output with the Sentinel leader, Jon had overextended himself to the point where he had nothing more to give. “Come on, Uberman. Do… Your worst,” Jon croaked weakly, his words interrupted by intermittent wheezing as he pointed his energy sword at Uberman. 

This time round there was no deliberation or rumination on Uberman’s part as the cyborg fired up his flight repulsors and closed the gap in the space of a heartbeat, followed by his armoured fist landing squarely against the side of Jon’s face in a right hook. An audible crack issued from the Magister’s cheek and orbital bone as the sclerae of his eyes turned bloodshot on taking Uberman’s punch. The devastating blow sent Jon flying clean off Zegrin’s saddle, blood trailing from his facial orifices as he plummeted towards the ground. Before Jon vanished from sight underneath the clouds, the Magister delivered a parting shot to Uberman, “You have won this duel, but you have not saved anyone by doing so.”

Zegrin’s response to Jon being knocked off the saddle was not something that Uberman was expecting – instead of attacking the cyborg in a berserker rage, the dragon gave a mournful-sounding roar, and without a moment’s hesitation, dived towards the ground after his master, the two of them soon disappearing from sight beneath the cloud cover. 

Uberman could not shake off the nagging suspicion that Jon Avalon still lives – despite the devastating blow he’d received. If the after-action reports of Scout’s encounter with the Magister known as Deimos during the Falcon River skirmish were any indicator, the Magisters of Drekis were all notoriously difficult to kill. Which was well and good for Uberman – he might be a mortal enemy, but the Sentinel leader would not want to resort to killing if he could help it. Perhaps, there was a chance he could capture Jon Avalon alive, and potentially use him as a bargaining chip to ensure the safe passage of the Khazanians under his and General Yang’s command; and afterward, to interrogate him for useful information about the Drekis Empire. 

The Sentinel leader contemplated descending to the surface to locate and apprehend Jon Avalon, but perished the thought the instant he tuned in to the global comms channel. The radio chatter had not been reassuring, as commanders reported of breaches in the front line – far from scattering at their leader’s defeat, the Drekis legion continued to press the assault with unbowed ferocity, with or without Jon at the helm to issue orders, which made the Magister’s final words sting all the more. Moreover, from what Uberman knew of Jon, he realised that the Magister was most likely not one to allow himself to be captured alive – even if he found him, the Sentinel leader had a feeling that Jon would’ve chosen to go down in a last stand rather than parley or allow himself to be taken alive.

“This is Sentinel Shalhalla, we have a Sentinel down, requesting extraction!” One voice in particular rose above the radio chatter.

“Uberman here, I got a fix on your comms signal; hang in there, Raea!” Uberman’s armour traced the location of Raea’s comms signal and charted a flight path towards the Sentinel’s coordinates. As he neared Raea’s position, the cyborg performed a quick evasive roll to dodge a Hive Guard’s optic blast as it fired the searing beam of energy into the air at Uberman.

The Sentinel leader countered with two near-simultaneous blasts from his left and right forearm cannons, knocking the Hive Guard onto its back. Not giving the creature a chance to recover, Uberman dialled up his repulsor output and dived towards the giant minion at full speed, delivering a thundering ground punch to its face before it could get back up. The powerful blow cratered the ground below the Hive Guard, but Uberman continued to press his assault as he got on top of the Hive Guard to perform a ground and pound. The crater on the ground grew a little wider and deeper with each successive strike as Uberman laid a brutal combo onto the armoured behemoth – three more punches, followed by a double hammer fist before rising to his feet to deliver a finishing stomp to the face. 

Uberman only moved on after confirming that the Hive Guard showed no further signs of life, sprinting the rest of the way towards Raea’s position; the redhead was seen carrying an unconscious Tim on her shoulders while Telissa provided cover fire for the couple. Despite his unconsciousness, the silver-haired swordsman maintained a vice grip on his heirloom sword, still emitting a faint turquoise glow. The pieces of the puzzle clicked together in Uberman’s mind – that earlier energy beam that tore through the sky that cast a blinding glow over the Frozen Wastes as far as the eye could see… it was Tim’s doing.

 

Segment 152: Blindsided

“Never thought I’d find this here,” As a member of a species adapted to subterranean life, Korruptus possessed a knack for locating underground spaces. Away from the battlefield, the minotaur-like Apostle’s instincts led him to an unexpected find – a half-finished tunnel running through the mountain ridge that was expected to prevent the Drekis legions from flanking the Khazanians from the east. 

He could only wonder why such infrastructure existed; perhaps it was intended to be part of a supply and logistics route to connect Fort WinterScar to the rest of Xaelon. Why the project was left unfinished was a mystery to Korruptus – perhaps the funding dried up, or perhaps the decision to replace the fort’s roster with an all-machine crew rendered such infrastructure unnecessary. Whatever the reason, the existence of this tunnel was a boon to the Apostle.

“If irony could be eaten, the taste would be wonderful right now,” Korruptus grinned broadly at the thought that it was the Khazanians themselves who provided him with the means to bring about their destruction in the form of an unfinished decades-old infrastructure project.

Stepping forward to rest his hand on the rock face before him, the Apostle could feel faint tremors running through the mountainside; no doubt he was nearing the battlefield. Glancing behind his shoulder, Korruptus flashed a smirk at the thralls gathered behind him as he unshouldered his signature axe-hammer and pointed at the rock face before them, “Now, how’s say we help the Khazanians finish this little project of theirs?”

With a chortle, Korruptus held his weapon above his head as though to rally the minions behind him. The Apostle’s gesture elicited a chorus of roars from the demonic horde, as though approving of his action. Korruptus snorted, puffs of steam escaping his nostrils as his grip tightened on the shaft of his axe-hammer, the crystalline veins on his forearms pulsing with a spectral green glow as a flaming aura surrounded the head of his weapon. 

Taking a stride forward, Korruptus summoned every ounce of strength from his hulking frame as he swung his weapon, hammer side first, at the rock face before him. A mighty shockwave swept down the length of the half-finished tunnel as the mountain itself appeared to shudder under the titanic blow, leaving a crater and a spiderweb of glowing cracks on the rock face. 

With a grunt, Korruptus raised his axe-hammer and smashed its hammer side against the rock face a second time, the next blow just as forceful as the next. Loose rocks fell from the tunnel ceiling as the crater on the rock face grew larger as the spiderweb of glowing cracks spread further. “This is going to take a while, but I reckon it will still take less time than either going around or over the mountain – I see why Magister Avalon delegated this task to me,” the minotaur-like Apostle took a step back to wipe the sweat off his brow and take a breather.

For what felt like an hour, Korruptus went to work on the unfinished tunnel before him, striking solid rock repeatedly with an almost rhythmic cadence, like a blacksmith working hot iron upon his anvil. The crystalline veins on the Apostle’s blackened forearms continued to pulse with the fluorescent green glow of Chaos energy, while his sweat vaporised into steam the instant they left his pores.

“And for the finishing touch,” Korruptus grinned as he stepped back, pointing to the spot on the now heavily-battered and glowing-hot rock face where he’d landed countless blows, resting his axe-hammer next to his feet. “Hive Guards, concentrate your fire on this single point.”

Tremors ran through the floor of the tunnel as six Hive Guards marched forward, their eyes giving off a deathly red light as they powered up their deadly optic blasts. The six of them roared in unison as they discharged their optic blasts simultaneously, their energy beams converging into a single massive blast that targeted the shatterpoint created by Korruptus.

“That’s right, keep it up!” The Apostle grinned as he held up his right arm over his forehead to block the glare from the Hive Guards’ combined hyper-beam. The elite minions roared louder as they pushed their optic blasts’ energy output to the max, causing the superheated rock to literally explode. As soon as the roar of the explosion died down, the familiar howl of a blizzard filled the tunnel as the cold winds of the Frozen Wastes came blowing into the newly-created tunnel exit.

“Charge, legions of Drekis! Leave none alive!” Korruptus declared as he stepped back into open air, pointing towards the Khazanian lines in the distance before raising his axe-hammer and storming forward, the mountain slopes shaking with thousands of footfalls as the Drekis legion charged in behind the Apostle, eager to wreak havoc upon the Khazanians.

 

Segment 153: Not Quiet on the Eastern Front

“Sir, sensors picked up seismic activity to the east!” On board the Libra’s bridge, one of the operators drew General Yang’s attention to a computer-generated map of the terrain, casting it onto the main holographic display terminal for her commanding officer.

“Wait… what!?” The general’s eyes widened in shock and disbelief as he leaned forward to double-check what was being shown, staring at the flashing red dot indicating the epicentre of the seismic activity – unlike typical seismic activity caused by an earthquake or volcanism, it did not originate deep underground, but on the surface. According to the equipment readings, it originated in the heart of a mountain!

“Archons damn it! What tricks are those Drekis bastards up to this time?” Percival Yang gritted his teeth as he pounded his right fist on the console.

“General! We’ve detected sudden changes to the local topography!” The tech officer continued, her voice quaking with growing panic as she pointed to the computer-generated map, updating itself to show an entire side of the mountain caving in, reshaped by the mysterious – and unnatural – seismic activity.

“Get me eyes in the sky!” The general barked, holding out his right arm to gesture authoritatively, “I want a real-time video feed of what’s happening on the ground!”

General Yang’s orders were quickly obliged by the bridge operators, who redirected some of the Libra’s scout drones towards the eastern ridge. The drone feed showed a smoking hole in the side of the mountain, as though it had just turned into a volcano, but it was what started emerging from the hole that made the general’s face lose colour. “Oh, by the Powers That Be… No…” General Yang muttered at the sight of entire columns of Drekis minions pouring out of the hole. From the drones’ altitude, the tide of bodies resembled a foul black ichor oozing out of a wound on the earth itself to flow down the mountain slopes towards the Khazanians’ unguarded flank.

“Massive enemy movements spotted from the east ridge!” Another bridge operator exclaimed, pointing to a strategic map displaying the positions of friendly and enemy units, “At their current rate of advancement, ETA for enemy contact – fifteen minutes!”

On the ground, Telissa’s only inkling that something was about to go terribly awry for the Khazanians was when the noise of yet another massive explosion rose above the noise of the battlefield. The Seeker spun around to face the source of the dreadful sound – and was greeted by the grim sight of an explosion tearing through the side of a mountain that formed a seemingly impassable ridge to their east. From a distance, it resembled a volcanic eruption as the explosion sent molten rock flying into the air, which in turn triggered an avalanche that sent thousands of tons of snow cascading down the mountain slope. Even from her position, the Telissa could feel the ground beneath her feet tremble.

“Avalanche!” Telissa yelled into her comms headset as the residual shockwave from the distant avalanche sent clouds of powdered snow billowing across the battlefield, whiting out the blonde’s vision. The tactical assistant AI in her battlesuit reacted by engaging short-wave infrared imaging on her AR visor. As the whiteout conditions settled enough for Telissa to make out her surroundings using her regular eyesight, the blonde gasped in shock at what emerged from the still-smoking hole in the mountainside.

“Enemies inbound; all units, watch your east!” General Yang’s voice came over the global comms. The general quickly gave orders to divert the WinterScar droids and artillery to cover the eastern front against the rapidly-advancing Drekis legion. The result was a disastrous cascade of failures – already suffering significant attrition losses at this point, the robotic phalanx found itself stretched further along not two but three fronts, further diminishing their effectiveness and allowing the enemy legions on the southern and western fronts to gradually push forward. 

More and more breaches opened up in the machines’ phalanx as Deminites and biomechanoids overran the machines. They could sense the Khazanians’ growing fear, which fuelled their thirst for blood and violence as they leapt into the line of fire with sadistic glee. As the Khazanians’ morale disintegrated, the Deminite Wolves’ fear auras once more took hold, amplifying the uncertainty and despair of all but the most strong-willed individuals.

Some of the Khazanians – soldiers, and even a few heroes – broke entirely; their training and discipline lost to sheer panic as they took off in flight, abandoning their positions and fleeing aimlessly into the blizzard in a desperate attempt to save their own skins. Others went catatonic from crushing despair, simply freezing in place like a deer caught in the headlights – completely unresponsive even as the demonic thralls tore them apart.

“The situation still isn’t as bad as you think it is! Don’t let the Deminite Wolves mess with your heads like that!” Telissa shouted, both over her comms unit and also to any Khazanian soldier within earshot, “If we stand our ground, we may yet make it!” Despite the deteriorating frontline, the blonde Seeker knew that the battle was still winnable, and tried to rally her Khazanian allies – but regardless of whether she attempted logical explanation, or tried to appeal to the soldiers’ professionalism and code of honour, many of them were too far gone for her words to reach them. 

“Damn it, I can’t hold the line like this! Not on my own!” Telissa hated to admit it, but even one as strong-willed as herself had to concede the futility of holding her current position. The blonde turned her attention back to Raea who was carrying Tim, who lay limply in her arms. “Raea! Our current position is indefensible! We’ll need to fall back before we get overrun!”

Telissa was met with a blank look from Raea; glancing at the unconscious Tim and then back at the faraway look in the redhead’s eyes, it became clear to Telissa that Raea was all spaced-out from worrying about Tim’s condition. It took Telissa rephrasing herself more firmly for Raea to mentally parse the situation. 

“Tim’s not capable of moving under his own power, I’ll need some help evacuating him,” Raea murmured.

Raea and Telissa shared the load as Tim went from being cradled in Raea’s arms to slung over the two women’s shoulders by the arms – propped up between Raea and Telissa, the duo dragged the unconscious swordsman back towards the armoured vehicles’ positions while returning fire using their free hands, trudging their way towards the nearest Armadillo APC. 

“Enemy contact at the east!” Nearby screams of dying soldiers accompanied by a chilling announcement from the Libra over the global comms channel confirmed the two heroines’ worst fears – and that of everyone else on the Khazanian side. The Drekis legion flanking them from the east had finally entered close quarters combat with the KAF; the first line of Deminite Soldiers threw themselves into the Khazanians’ ranks to use their bodies as meat shields, soaking up gunfire to allow their comrades to push forward. Entire squads were wiped out within seconds of contact, mauled to death by Deminite Soldiers and Reavers, and cut down by Reptillions. Behind them, Devonoxes lumbered on at a slow but steady pace – the soldiers who weren’t torn to shreds by the Deminite Soldiers and Reavers found themselves smashed into pulp or trampled underfoot by the crimson-skinned juggernauts.

“Where’s the blizzard? Wasn’t Tiara controlling the weather to prevent this sort of situation?” Raea rested Tim against the side of an Armadillo to engage the enemy – her pulsed plasma pistols’ energy cells ran dry after a few bursts, forcing the young Sentinel to cast them aside and switch to her ion pulse blaster.

“I’m sorry about that, but the enemy had… countermeasures tailored to my abilities,” Tiara descended from the skies to cut down a column of Deminite Soldiers with a storm of razor wind – the aeromancer battered and bloody after her battle with Kalia – the blood from her shoulder wound already seeping through the makeshift dressing. “Unfortunately, at this point the enemy has closed in enough to negate whatever advantage I can field by controlling the local blizzard… assuming that is even still within my ability.”

“Timothy Shinestar, how is he doing?” Uberman got down on one knee to check on the young man – his voice wavering with concern.

“I don’t know,” Telissa shook her head as she swapped out the spent charge pack on her LR-2X for a fresh one, “The extent of his injuries don’t line up with his unconscious state… our primary concern right now is to fall back before we’re completely swamped!”

“We didn’t expect them to tunnel right through the mountains on the east ridge to flank us,” Uberman added; the cyborg leapt onto the hood of a disabled Caracal IFV, and tore off its still-functioning turret gun to wield the 30mm autocannon as a hand-held machine gun, firing into the advancing horde of Drekis minions.

“And it’s costing us our momentum!” Telissa fired a few shots from her molecular disruptor rifle before ducking behind the hull of an armoured vehicle to take cover from a volley of Deminite fireballs. “But all is not lost! We need to redirect our artillery towards the east and send the WinterScar droids to reinforce our lines!”

“General Yang already ordered that, and it’s really not helping one bit,” Tiara performed a sweeping gesture with her left arm, and sent a squall of wind that intensified into a tornado as it approached the demonic horde, sucking Deminite Soldiers, Reavers and Reptillions into the air before sending them flying like ragdolls. “The machines’ combat strength is less than half of what they started with, and diverting them and the artillery towards the east will only spread them even more thinly and further diminish their effectiveness.”

“Shit!” With a scream of frustration, Telissa retracted her suit’s AR visor and grasped at her hair as though she was ready to tear them off her scalp. Her outburst was immediately followed by deep shame as the blonde muttered an apology and hung her head before looking at Uberman with an imploring expression, “What can be done then? Can the mechanised squadrons bail us out? I can’t believe this… just moments ago, it looked like we were in control!”

“Unfortunately, we’ve played all our cards at this point,” Uberman threw away the detached turret gun after its ammo drum ran empty, switching to his forearm cannons to deliver one concussive blast after another, “The mechs have their hands full defending our flagship… and it’s a losing battle, and the only possible avenue of retreat is further northwest towards Mt. Aegis, but after that there’s nowhere else for us to fall back to… our only course of action at this point is to double – no, triple down and hold back the enemy to the best of our ability.” It was an unforeseen turn of events that even after playing all their cards, the enemy still had one pocket ace up their sleeve.

The Devonoxes caught up to the frontline of lighter minions, an advancing wall of armoured crimson hide and raw muscle that hurled their massive bodies into the fray; the WinterScar droids – initially appearing as an impenetrable phalanx between the Khazanians and the Drekis legion – crumpled like soda cans under the crushing weight of the Devonoxes as they made short work of the machines. The arrival of the Devonoxes further galvanised the Reptillions and Deminite Soldiers, who made hellish cries of excitement as they leapfrogged over the hulking siege beasts’ backs to throw themselves at the Khazanians’ positions. 

A Deminite Soldier disarmed a KAF infantryman by knocking away his assault rifle with a backhanded strike from its right hand, before plunging its left hand through the hapless soldier’s midsection. As the soldier doubled over from the traumatic injury, the demonic thrall drove its right claw into his chest. With a roar, the Deminite Soldier split the dying trooper’s torso into two diagonal halves as it tore the man apart. 

Inwardly, Telissa cursed the viciousness of the enemy before setting her weapon sights on the Deminite, atomising both the Drekis thrall and the remains of its victim before turning her attention to Raea, “Come on, we need to put distance between ourselves and the enemy – it’s now or never at this point!”

“We’ll make them pay for every inch they take!” Uberman positioned himself at the front to soak up incoming fire from the Deminite Soldiers, their blasts of hellfire exploding against his armoured frame – despite the damages sustained during his battle with Jon Avalon, the cyborg’s defenses held steady against the thralls’ assault. With the droid phalanx and artillery support spread thin across three fronts, the enemy was gaining ground at an accelerated pace as the Khazanians fought an uphill battle to keep them at bay. The Sentinel leader glanced over to Tiara, “I’ll charge the enemy directly if needed be! Tiara, if you’re still able to, we could use some fire support over at the east; I’ll try to hold the south!”

The tide of Drekis minions washed over the frontline like an all-consuming blight – a few of the WinterScar droids still remained, still holding the line, but their numbers had dwindled to a point where they no longer provided viable resistance, barely visible among the sea of Deminites. And the demonic thralls knew it; many of them opted to simply ignore the remaining machines to charge the Khazanians’ positions even as the KAF redirected part of their artillery and heavy weapons support to cover the eastern flank, eager to sink their fangs and claws into warm flesh.

The Khazanian vehicles went into reverse gear as they backed away, anxious to put distance between the horde and themselves as anti-personnel weaponry blazed away – the move came too little, too late as the Drekis legion soon caught up to the first line of combat vehicles. Deminite Soldiers and Reavers flung themselves onto tanks, IFVs and APCs, latching onto their armoured hulls like hyenas swarming a buffalo. The creatures clawed and bit away, trying to probe the vehicles’ chassis for weaknesses by tearing off sensors and communication equipment and attempting to force open access hatches to get at the crew and passengers within. The armoured hulls offered no sanctuary the moment Devonoxes joined the fray; the biological siege engines flipped APCs over with ease, and tore through their hulls, allowing the lighter minions to enter the vehicles’ cabins and butcher their occupants.

Uberman alone stood at the front; firing his forearm cannons on a near-constant basis – the damage he took in his earlier battle with Jon still showing as the blaster on his right arm would intermittently sputter and show drastically reduced energy output. The only time the Sentinel leader took a pause from firing his concussion blasters was to pummel Drekis minions in hand to hand combat, breaking limbs and caving in skulls by combining the overwhelming power of his cyborg chassis with fast and precise martial arts strikes. There was no sign of Jon Avalon on the horizon, but Uberman was certain that his adversary had survived their aerial engagement and even now the Magister was still somewhere out there, watching, and gloating.

Jon’s verbal parting shot came back to haunt the cyborg, “You have won this duel, but you have not saved anyone by doing so.” The words replayed themselves in Uberman’s mind, and he bristled at the thought – part of him wished that he could manifest his righteous indignation like how Timothy did with his sword; perhaps then, he could just clear the entire southern front of Deminites with a single turbocharged blast similar to the young Sentinel’s mega sword-beam. But with the way things stood, most of the minions ignored the Sentinel leader even as he stood his ground – the sheer size of the horde made it behave like fluid instead of a collection of individuals; flowing through paths of least resistance. Which meant going around Uberman and the few remaining droids to get at the softer targets behind them.

Telissa and Tiara gave everything they could to shore up the eastern and western fronts, but with the Drekis legion quickly gaining ground from the south, the two girls came to a painful consensus that the only logical course of action was to fall back or get encircled entirely. Above them, a lone Bio-Fighter managed to break through the defensive sphere formation of the mechanised squadrons to perform a Kamikaze attack at the Libra – ramming itself into one of the Valkyrie’s particle beam cannons just as it was powering up its main gun battery for another fusillade, destroying itself in the process, but also further damaging the already-impaired airship.

“Seeker Ravan to the Libra, what’s your current status?” Telissa tapped on her suit’s headset and sent a direct comms to the Valkyrie’s bridge. The blonde heaved a sigh of relief as General Yang himself responded to her ping.

“General Yang here,” the general’s voice was calm and steady, which suggested that he wasn’t badly wounded, “The Libra took a serious hit, but it’ll take more than that to bring this tough girl down! We’ve had injured crew members on board the ship, but no fatalities. I’ve studied the current developments; and I have relayed my orders to Col. Freebird – all units are to pull back towards Mt. Aegis. This way, perhaps the enemy detachments will converge back into a single legion attacking from one direction instead of boxing us in. General Yang, out.”

Telissa nodded, “It still sounds like a long shot, but it beats staying here!” True to the general’s words, Scout soon relayed orders over the global comms for all units to fall back towards the slopes of Mt. Aegis – issuing the order was one thing, but carrying it out proved to be a completely different beast. As Telissa looked around, she could hardly find anyone who hadn’t been affected by the Deminite Wolves’ aura to some extent. General Yang and Scout had ordered a tactical retreat, but in Telissa’s eyes what she saw was a disorderly rout; there was no bounding overwatch or calculated retreat manoeuvres, only every man or woman for themselves as each individual fought only to save their own skin.

Telissa fired like a woman possessed – aiming felt pointless at this juncture; no matter where she pointed her molecular disruptor rifle, there was an enemy at near point-blank range, growling, panting and drooling as they clawed at the air trying to get closer to her. Every pull of the trigger on her LR-2X killed several Deminites, but twice that number pressed forward to take the places of the slain. The Seeker could only wonder, just how long could she avoid the same fate as the others? All around her were those who hadn’t been as fortunate, their mutilated remains trampled into the snow by the ineluctable tide of demons that appeared set to wash over them all before they even got near the foot of Mt. Aegis.

“Please, Shinestar… say something… anything…” Raea rested Tim’s head on her lap, fighting back tears as she brushed the swordsman’s silver bangs aside to gently stroke his forehead with her hand, trying to coax some kind of response from Tim. The young swordsman remained unconscious the whole time – if it weren’t for his slow, shallow breathing one might’ve thought he was dead. What worried Raea wasn’t Tim’s unconsciousness – it was how none of it made sense. Repeated scans of his vitals had turned up positive readings; his body was fine – but his spirit seemed to be lost in some kind of liminal space; at least, that was what an SLJ mystic told her before a Hunter-Killer sniped him in the head.

The sight of Tim lying so powerless was an image Raea had a hard time reconciling with – he might frequently trip up and curse his own ineptitude, but one constant about the young man was that he never gave up. No matter how many times he stumbled, he would pick himself up with a goofy smile and try again. And again. “You never quit, no matter how many times you trip up… so why are you giving up now? Have you forgotten our promise?” The redhead lifted a limp hand from Tim and pressed it against her cheek, as if hoping the familiar warmth of her skin might stir Tim up. Despite her best efforts to stay strong, without her realising it, her eyes had gone from misting over with tears to having them stream unashamedly down her cheeks.

Even the armoured hull of the Armadillo-series APC could not insulate her from the grim developments outside – however muted, she could hear the hellish cries of the Drekis thralls, the screams of her dying allies, while the guns on the Khazanian side continued to go silent, one after another. It was a bitter irony that when they first descended the slopes of Mt. Aegis, they’d promised each other that everything would be alright as long as they stuck together – but now, she could only wait for the inevitable end with Timothy in her arms.

The sign of the end came when the Armadillo came to a halt with a loud thump that caused the APC to rock violently as something stopped the vehicle with great force. The Armadillo’s frame continued to rock back and forth to the sound of dozens of claws scraping against its armour, followed shortly by the turret operator’s tormented screams – a foreshadowing of the grisly fate that awaited herself and Tim. With a sickening groan, the escape hatch on the hood was torn open by a Devonox, the crimson-skinned bruiser staring down at Raea with a maliciously gleeful expression on its ogrish face, like a child opening a giftbox.

The Devonox reached its hand into the passenger compartment of the Armadillo, trying to grab at Raea, but Uberman swooped in from the air to deliver a Superman Punch to the beast’s jaw with enough force to launch it off its feet and fly back several metres. The Devonox growled as it sat up, but Uberman leapt onto the hulking minion’s chest and landed several more bone-crushing punches to its face before wedging his entire forearm between its jaws to discharge a point-blank concussive blast into the Devonox’s mouth that exploded its head from inside-out.

Raea screamed as someone peered down the opened hatch on the Armadillo’s hood – only to breathe a sigh of relief when it was the glowing faceplate of Uberman staring down at her rather than a leering Drekis minion. “Drive! I’ve cleared the path for your vehicle!” The cyborg yelled at the APC’s driver to resume driving. The Armadillo’s frame lurched as the driver shifted the APC back into forward gear while Uberman rode shotgun on its roof, but the badly-damaged vehicle trundled at a snail’s pace, and like sharks sensing blood in the water, nearby Deminite Soldiers and Reptillions soon caught up to the Armadillo.

Like ravenous wolves, the demonic thralls leapt towards the damaged APC from all sides, clinging onto the sides of the hull and scrabbling onto the hood. Uberman stood over the destroyed hatch like a mother hen guarding her chicks – any minion who thought it could force its way into the vehicle quickly found itself on the business end of the Sentinel leader’s concussion blasters or fists.

“Uberman, please… don’t worry about us! Retreat while you still can!” Raea pleaded with Uberman as the cyborg stood guard on the Armadillo’s hood. “Even if Timothy and I can’t make it, Khazan can’t afford to lose you! Even if we’re goners… you must live to fight another day, please!”

“Are these really the words of Raea Shalhalla… a Sentinel I that had so proudly trained?” Uberman stared down the hatch at Raea – despite the absence of any human facial features on his faceplate, the redheaded Sentinel thought the cyborg was glaring sternly at her. “This is the Sentinel way… no-one gets left behind!” Three Deminite Soldiers latched onto Uberman’s waist, clawing desperately at his armour. The cyborg shook off two of them before grabbing the third by its head and crushed its skull in his hand before swinging its lifeless body like a club at another Deminite Soldier that had climbed onto the APC’s hood.  

“We’re just dead weight at this point…” Raea muttered weakly as she brought her knees up and hugged her arms around them as she hung her head. “Even if this battle is lost, all of Khazan still needs you to lead future battles against the Drekis legions!”

“Do not give me that! I did not train you as a Sentinel to talk like this!” Uberman delivered a firm retort to Raea’s defeatism even while battling Drekis minions trying to get into the APC, bashing in the skull of a Devonox. “Do not ever treat a life as expendable! A hero, a Sentinel, is prepared to put his life on the line for others, but he will never regard himself as disposable! So tell me, Raea – how do you plan on giving up your life? Will you stand and fight for who you love and what you believe in? Or will you just cower and wait for the end? Ask yourself… what will Shinestar think of you if he saw you in your current state?”

Raea’s eyes regained their fire at Uberman’s pipebomb. The redhead said nothing, only nodded her head slowly as she looked up. With one hand, she gave the unconscious Tim’s face a gentle caress, while her other hand reached towards her ion pulse blaster, her fingers tightening around its grip. “Understood,” Raea got onto her feet, tapping on the collar of her battlesuit. With a faint hiss, the suit’s collar expanded into an armoured mask that snapped into place over her lower face.

“Welcome back, Raea Shalhalla,” Uberman’s faceplate briefly glowed pink – the cyborg’s analogue for a smile as he shifted aside slightly to allow Raea to join him atop the Armadillo’s hood. But before the battle could resume, a series of incandescent trails streaking through the gray skies caught the attention of everyone on the battlefield – Khazanians and Drekis legion alike. “What was that?”

The source of these curious glowing trails quickly became clear as Uberman magnified his optics to see what was making them. “They’re drop pods!” The Sentinel leader exclaimed, recognising them as compact vehicles used by elite forces for high-altitude aerial insertions into combat zones. However, the design of the drop pods was not of a model that is in service with the Khazan Armed Forces, which led Uberman to wonder who deployed these drop pods?

He did not have to wait long for the answer as one of the drop pods made a dynamic entry, deploying its landing pylons to crash onto the skull of a nearby Devonox. Upon landing, the drop pod activated its defensive turrets armed with autolasers that cleared the landing zone of nearby enemies before its hatches popped open to allow its occupants to disembark.

“Wait, are they…” Uberman watched as from each passenger compartment exited a warrior decked out in powered armour that is of an unfamiliar design to the Sentinel leader. In some ways, the design of their powered armour resembled Uberman’s own suit – advanced technology paired with medievalesque aesthetics, making them resemble space age paladins in their polished silver powersuits with golden accents and glowing electric blue highlights. Except these unfamiliar warriors took the ‘knight’ aspect up a notch with their arsenal, wielding swords and polearms constructed from hard light.

“I’ve heard of them,” Raea chorused as over a dozen Deminite Soldiers swarmed towards the three power-armoured warriors. The engagement lasted no more than a few seconds as a device on the sword-wielding warrior's left forearm cast a shield of hard light to parry incoming blasts of hellfire from the Deminite Soldiers. The sword-wielding warrior gave a nod to his two comrades, who slammed the butts of their hard light glaives against the ground, and with a series of mechanical clicks and whirrs, the shafts of their polearms changed shape to resemble rifles with oversized bayonets. Wielding their weapons in rifle configuration, the two warriors took point and gunned down half of the Deminite Soldiers with well-timed volleys of hard light bullets from their weapons. Shifting their weapons back into melee configuration, the three warriors charged in sync towards the remaining Deminites, cutting them all down in a matter of seconds. “They’re the elite of the elite in the Axian military… the praetorian guard of Queen Amanda Relissan herself. The Axians call them… the Knights of Axiom.”

 

Segment 154: Were you expecting the Winged Hussars?

From the distance, an unfamiliar sound echoed across the snow fields, faint and distant at first, but gradually growing louder as it drew nearer. The KAF and SLJ forces which only moments ago were in a desperate flight stopped in their tracks upon recognition of the sound – it was the blasting of trumpets; more pointedly, of bugles typically used for signalling troops. Even the Drekis legion, paused their harrying of the Khazanians as the bugle calls rose above their own hellish roars and shrieks, sniffing at the air and cocking their heads side to side as they attempted to pinpoint the source of the sound.

Distracted by the unexpected sound, Uberman failed to notice a Devonox charging towards the Armadillo he was riding shotgun on, reacting too late to the crimson brute slamming the full weight of its body against the APC’s hull, knocking it over onto its send and sending both himself and Raea tumbling onto the snow. Before the SLJ leader knew it, the Devonox was already right on top of him.

“Uberman!” Raea lifted her weapon to power up a charged buster shot as Uberman wrestled with the Devonox on the ground, but the cyborg waved an arm at her to signal her to stay out of it.

“I’ll manage!” Uberman grunted as he held the Devonox at bay as it tried to grasp the cyborg’s head between its hands in an attempt to rip it off. “You go check on Shinestar!” The Devonox roared and brought its face close to Uberman’s, its rancid breath fogging up the cyborg’s faceplate. In response, Uberman grabbed the Devonox's wrists to force its hands apart and jerked his upper body off the ground to deliver a headbutt to the bridge of the Devonox’s nose. 

The red-skinned bruiser roared with pain and rage. Uberman delivered a second headbutt, followed by a third – the cracking sound of a nasal bone breaking came over Uberman’s audio receptors as the Devonox reeled from the impact, clutching its bloodied nose. The break gave the cyborg the opportunity to kick the Devonox in the gut, knocking it off him and giving room for both combatants to reset as Uberman scrambled onto his feet. The two of them squared off as Uberman raised his fists and got into his signature boxing stance, while the Devonox scratched at and pounded on the ground before unleashing a deep, bellowing roar to announce its challenge.

Before either combatant could make a move, the whistling noise of a projectile moving through the air at high speed rose above the background noise. Uberman’s optics registered a metallic flash above his head, before a spear skewered the Devonox’s throat – its shaft made from polished brass with what looked like religious scriptures engraved along its length, its point constructed from a silver-coloured alloy. 

The spear was no mundane weapon; as the Devonox grasped at the polearm’s shaft to try to pull it out of its throat, the tip of the spear as well as the engraved scriptures on the shaft began to give off a golden-white light as bright yellow arcs of lightning leapt from the spearpoint to engulf the Drekis minion, burning it to ash as the spear dropped onto the ground, resting on a smoking pile of ash. Several nearby Deminite Soldiers inched cautiously towards the weapon, with one of them extending a clawed hand to gingerly prod at it. 

As soon as the Drekis thrall touched the spear, it appeared to spring back to “life” as it shook violently and levitated into the air, the golden glow and electric aura flaring up once more – sending out golden arcs of electricity that destroyed the Deminites that had stood around the weapon.

“Could it be… they’re here too?” Raea stood by Uberman’s side, while carrying Tim on her shoulders, having retrieved the young swordsman from the wrecked Armadillo. Meanwhile, the floating spear began to fly at great speed, presumably back to whoever had thrown it. 

Tracking where the spear flew to, Uberman caught sight of winged horses – pegasi – circling above them. On their saddles rode fair and beautiful maidens, garbed in gold-hued ceremonial breastplates and pauldrons over opulently-styled, press-ironed military uniforms with gleaming brass accessories and braided lanyards.

“The all-female pegasus cavalry… and those uniforms… there’s no mistake about it,” Raea retracted her battlesuit’s mask as she lifted her gaze towards the sky, her eyes narrowed. “First the Knights of Axiom, now the Cloudstrider Corps. It’s Axia alright, they’ve finally intervened.”

A blistering salvo of cruise missiles and heavy particle beams came in from the north, ravaging the ranks of the Drekis legion – the source of the aerial bombardment became apparent as a fleet of military airships descended from the clouds; mostly Valkyrie-class battleships and Normandy-class transports bearing the livery of the Royal Axian Military, the latter sporting extensive modernisations. More Knights of Axiom entered the battlefield, delivered straight to the Khazanians’ frontline via drop pods launched from the Axians’ Bahamut-class carriers. At the same time, squadrons of Peregrine fighters and Cloudstrider Corps took off from the Bahamuts’ flight decks and launch bays to provide much-needed relief for the embattled Libra and its mech escorts, joining the pitched aerial battle against the Drekis legion’s Bio-Fighters and Ptera-Deminites. 

“You must’ve spoken to her majesty in Axia after we parted ways in New Xaelis,” Tiara flew into the air to meet the commander of the Cloudstrider Corps – who turned out to be none other than Maya herself. The blue-haired elflike woman was a far cry now compared to the time Tiara met her in New Xaelis – gone were the simple, ascetic-like travelling robes. The fellow disciple of the Powers That Be now sported a finely-tailored military dress uniform and ceremonial armour, similar in style to the other Cloudstriders under her command, but even more lavishly accessorised and sporting a burgundy and black colour scheme compared to her subordinates’ ultramarine and yellow, and a matching officers’ peaked cap adorning her head. Unlike the other Cloudstriders, Maya flew under her own power instead of riding on the back of a pegasus.

Maya nodded, adjusting her officers’ cap by its peak with the knuckle of her right hand. “I reported back to Queen Relissan after our meeting. Her majesty foresaw that your mission might run into complications, so she saw fit to take some… precautions.” Maya rested a gloved hand on Tiara’s good shoulder, giving the lavender-haired aeromancer a reassuring pat, “Still, you did a great job having escorted young Shinestar this far. Let us take over from here and get yourself some much-needed rest.”

The other disciple of the Powers shook her head and smiled as she gently lifted Maya’s hand off her shoulder, the wind around her gradually picking up. “I’m fine, Maya. I’ve come too far to call it quits there and then; after all, there’s that maxim – in for a penny, in for a pound.” Tiara pulled the blizzard towards her, compressing the chill winds into a sphere-shaped elemental construct in her hands.

Maya giggled with her eyes closed, “Suit yourself, Tiara. Let’s see if you can keep up then.” With that, Maya opened her eyes as an electrical aura surrounded her and the point of her spear glowed with a crackling golden light. The two women looked at each other and nodded before taking off at full speed, flying ahead of the Cloudstrider Corps as they engaged the Drekis Empire’s aerial minions.

Meanwhile, the Royal Axian Military’s Normandy transports landed, lowering a disembarking ramp for their troops to deploy. From out of the airships’ holds rolled armoured vehicles – Lynx-series main battle tanks, Caracal IFVs and Armadillo APCs, all bearing the livery and coat-of-arms of Axia. Behind the vehicles, infantry marched down the ramp in perfect lockstep, rifles in hand. What the typical citizen of Khazan Prime viewed as ceremonial dress uniforms reserved for parades, the soldiers of Axia treated as field uniforms – spit-polished boots, crisp military jackets with polished brass accessories, braided lanyards and epaulettes and matching peaked caps that sat proudly on these men and women’s heads.

The Axians continued their aerial bombardment on the Drekis legions to clear an area for its ground forces to deploy. First the armoured vehicles moved in at full speed to soften up the Drekis frontline with heavy weapons fire. Behind them, the infantry advanced at a steady pace – at the officers’ cues, half the companies would stop to aim and fire, sending timed volleys of hard light bullets from their rifles with an almost mechanical precision into the demonic horde while the other half advanced methodically.

The KAF forces and Sentinels stood transfixed as the Axian troops advanced past them to engage the Drekis legion that moments ago had them on the run; the Knights of Axiom disrupting enemy formations as forward shock troops, while the armoured division and infantry continued their ruthless advance, supported by near-constant bombardment by artillery and airships and close air support from the Cloudstrider Corps. “It’s the Axians!” A KAF soldier gasped, lifting his helmet’s faceplate to get a clearer look at the emblem displayed on the hull of a passing Lynx tank. “The state-kingdom of Axia has come to our aid!”

 

Segment 155: Back in Control

As the Drekis legions were thrown into disarray following the unexpected military intervention from Axia, one Discordant Scion managed to skulk around unnoticed. Regulus Morikai stalked towards where Timothy Shinestar lay, having noticed that Uberman and Raea’s attention were drawn towards the Axians, his steps uncannily silent despite his heavy armour. ‘Is that the boy Morlos talked about earlier?’ the elderly-looking knight thought, recalling his earlier conversation with Morlos Gao.

Despite his earlier skepticism towards the dark mage regarding Tim’s importance, after witnessing the mega sword-beam the boy unleashed and Morlos’ untimely end, Regulus now had second thoughts. As much as he detested Morlos, it turned out that his fellow Scion was right after all. Perhaps, if he took the young man’s head, he could earn much favour in the eyes of Jon Avalon, or possibly even Drekis himself.

‘Nothing personal, kid,’ Regulus stealthily drew his sword out of its sheath as he crept forward – a longsword with an ebony grip and ruby-studded pommel, and a hilt fashioned in the likeness of a harpy’s bust and the name ‘Ashenfel’ engraved upon the base of its blade. The knight’s eyes narrowed as he drew ever closer, ‘At least you won’t feel a thing in your current state.’

Regulus stood over Tim with narrowed eyes and raised Ashenfel above his head, gripping the handle tightly in both hands as he pointed the tip of its blade downwards at Tim’s chest, poised to drive the sword through him. But before the Discordant Scion could carry out the deed, a bolt of lightning arced through the air towards him. Regulus raised the kite shield strapped to the vambrace of his left arm in the nick of time to block the spell, staggering back as arcs of electricity crackled around him.

“Who dares!?” The senior Scion growled as he lowered his shield and jumped back to avoid a spiralling blast of wind and ice that tore through the ground he stood on moments ago. With an angry hiss, Regulus snapped his gaze upwards to the sky and his eyes widened in shock and disbelief at the sight of Maya and Tiara levitating in the air above him, escorted by no less than ten Cloudstriders. The two disciples of the Powers said nothing as Tiara gathered the winds into her hands and Maya raised her spear, its tip crackling with a golden electric aura as a circle of glowing magical runes materialised under her feet, a non-verbal challenge for the Discordant Scion to make his next move.

From there, the situation continued to deteriorate for Regulus – now alert to the Discordant Scion’s interference, Uberman and Raea spun around to face Regulus as the SLJ leader raised his fists to point both forearm cannons at him, while Raea took aim with her ion pulse blaster while her battlesuit’s mask snapped back in place over her lower face while half a dozen Knights of Axiom came running over to join the fray.

For a few tense seconds, Regulus appeared ready to take on all of them as he stood his ground with a snarl on his face, sword and shield raised – with the former radiating an aura of dark magic that resembled wisps of black smoke rising from the blade.

“Not today,” Regulus huffed as he lowered Ashenfel and returned the sword to its sheath. “But I will remember this,” the elderly-looking Scion glared hard at Maya, then at Uberman. “Mark my words, we will meet again!” Before the heroes could make a move to apprehend Regulus, three Bio-Fighters broke off from the aerial battle with the Axians and shifted into their biomech mode to engage the heroes in battle; two dozen Ptera-Deminites joined the fray on short notice – and in the battle that ensued, no-one noticed Regulus making a quiet getaway.

Korruptus grunted – more in annoyance than pain – as fusillade after fusillade of hard light rounds exploded against his body in a shower of blue-white sparks – but the Apostle’s body was an impenetrable fort that weathered the barrage and continued to push forward even as thralls fell around him in droves. Tanks fired their main guns as IFVs advanced with their autocannons and heavy autolaser turrets blazing, the explosive shells and heavy weaponry causing the minotaur-like Apostle’s steps to falter momentarily before he continued his charge with minimal damage.

Korruptus grinned as six Knights of Axiom stood between him and the advancing Axian infantry, the Apostle’s grip tightening around the handle of his massive axe-hammer. “I’ve heard stories about you guys… let’s see if the Knights of Axiom live up to the hype,” the Apostle pounded on the ground with his hooved feet as the Knights of Axiom got into a fighting formation with hard light swords and glaives in hand. Korruptus could not read the knights’ faces behind the faceplates of their helmets, but he could tell they had no fear of him – which only stoked his excitement towards facing them in battle.

“Leave him to me,” A calm, masculine baritone voice called out from behind the knights as what appeared to be a tall and athletically-built young man stepped forward, with yellow-irised eyes and short but stylishly-unkempt hair in a pastel shade of mint green with spiked bangs that framed his boyish face. The young man appeared to be a high-ranking officer in the Royal Axian Military’s elite forces, sporting the men’s variant of the burgundy and black military dress uniform as Maya. But in stark contrast to Maya, the state of his uniform was more unkempt, matching his hairstyle. The man wore no headdress or ceremonial armour, and the jacket of his uniform was left unbuttoned to reveal a form-fitting tunic underneath that hugged the chiseled contours of his athletically-toned frame.

“It’s only fitting that the commander fights the commander, no?” The young-looking man smiled as he looked back at the knights before doing a set of warm-up drills, starting with some stretching of his back and shoulders, before going into some Cossack squats followed by Hindu push-ups. The self-proclaimed commander sprang back onto his feet before placing his forearm across his chest and bowing, “Eric Melazai, Lord-Commandant of the Knights of Axiom – at your service. Have you seen my comrade in action? She’d be Maya Reichard, Lady-Commandant of the Cloudstrider Corps.”

Korruptus snorted derisively as they squared off, the Apostle standing more than a full arm’s length taller than Eric. “Very well then, commander against commander,” Korruptus nodded. A terse growl from the Minotaur was all it took for the thralls to stand down. The action was reciprocated on the Axian side as Eric raised a gloved hand into the air to signal for the Knights of Axiom to stand down.

“Try this on for size!” A fiery aura surrounded Korruptus’ axe-hammer as the Minotaur-like Apostle swung his weapon hammer-side first at Eric’s head. Korruptus’ eyes widened with surprise as the Lord-Commandant lifted his right hand to parry the hammer strike with his palm in a manner that appeared almost nonchalant.

“Bet you never faced a master of Teratsusai, eh?” Eric Melazai chuckled at Korruptus’ surprised expression. “You’re looking at the last living master of this ancient martial art,” the Lord-Commandant went into a bow-legged stance as he raised his palms with soft shoulders, performing a set of circular movements with his hands.

Korruptus swung his weapon around in a flurry of overhead smashes and roundhouse swings, but Eric’s body appeared to move like water as the Lord-Commandant ‘flowed’ around the Apostle’s attacks. Eric turned his body sideways to evade a downward chop from the axe side of Korruptus’ weapon – and before the Apostle could lift his axe-hammer again, Eric performed a forward lunge, soft while moving, but hard at the instant of contact as his shoulder slammed against Korruptus’ trunk, sending the Apostle skidding backwards.

“That was more painful than I anticipated,” Korruptus grunted as he planted the head of his weapon into the ground to stop his skidding and clutched at the spot where Eric shoulder-checked him. The Apostle looked ready to have another go at the Lord-Commandant, but soon changed his mind as the state of the Drekis legion became evident. 

All around him, the Axians had whittled the once-mighty legion to a fraction of their original strength; despite Korruptus’ thirst for battle the Apostle was no fool – he could not afford to throw more bodies into the meatgrinder and leave the newly-established hive-fortress in New Xaelis understaffed, realising that the Khazanians could launch counteroffensives before it reached full production capacity. “Consider yourself lucky, I have more pressing matters to attend to,” Korruptus waved his axe-hammer at Eric before turning tail and running, his retreat covered by the Drekis thralls who threw themselves at the Axians’ positions with reckless abandon.

“His Eminence will not be happy about this,” Several hours later, Korruptus reunited with Kalia and Jon Avalon at the southern edge of the Frozen Wastes.  

“I will bear responsibility for my decisions,” Jon Avalon stepped forward, raising his right hand. Deminite Drones, under the guidance of Shadow Priests had patched up the Magister – the side of his face where Jon took a crushing punch from Uberman covered by a protective mask of umbricite crafted by the Deminite Drones. “Our main goal all along was to secure New Xaelis as the site of a future hive-fortress on the surface… finishing the Khazanians was purely a matter of personal glory... I admit I got carried away with my private feud with Uberman and failed to consider the bigger picture.”

“What will we do then?” Kalia looked towards Jon and Korruptus with a downcast face – for once, her enchanted silk sashes were not slithering and swaying around suggestively, but dragged lifelessly along the ground as though reflecting her sullen mood.

“Nothing. We can take no further actions against the Khazanians at this juncture,” Jon folded his arms before his chest as he lowered his head grimly. “We can only hope that the Khazanians do not take advantage of the depleted state of our legion and attempt to retake New Xaelis. We will lead what’s left of our forces back to Kaoscendo Xaelon to fortify it against future attempts by the Khazanians to liberate the Xaelonian capital… the hives have not yet reached their full production capacity and are extremely vulnerable at this point in time.”

With that, the Magister and his cohorts led the remnants of their legion back towards New Xaelis, now dubbed Kaoscendo Xaelon.

 

Segment 156: Loose Ends

As night fell over the Spellfire Desert, the sands took on a completely opposite character than during the day as the environment went from oppressively hot to near-freezing. Morlos Gao alone dragged his feet over the dunes, surprisingly still alive following his encounter with Timothy Shinestar during the battle of the Frozen Wastes. “Damn it, damn it all!” The Discordant Scion hissed through gritted teeth as he continued to wander through the night desert. “Centuries of service… all my contributions to the Drekis Empire… everything undone by that silver-headed brat!”

The dark mage clutched at the umbricite amulet worn on a chain around his neck, the red gem set into it no longer emitting its signature blood-red glow and sporting a deep crack in the middle. It was a symbol of a covenant Morlos had made centuries ago on another world – one much less advanced than Khazan – with Drekis, back when he was still a human wizard who sought to conquer death itself through mastering the dark arts. In exchange for his soul, Drekis granted him immunity to the ravages of disease, aging and death.

“For if you fail, you will learn during the fall of Zel’Myas that what I have given to you, I can just as easily take back…” Drekis’ words during their telepathic conversation in Zel’Myas returned to haunt Morlos. It was Drekis who granted him the gift of un-life, and he could revoke said gift just as easily. The cracked amulet was a clear sign from the Chaos Archon that the deal was off – his former master’s gift had saved him one last time, but his failure at the Frozen Wastes had led to Drekis severing the covenant. And for the first time in centuries, Morlos felt human… and vulnerable.

He knew he could no longer approach any Drekis legion; he was no longer one of the Discordant Scions, and any Drekis thrall from the simple Deminite Soldier to the elite Hive Guard will attack him on sight as readily as any Khazanian. But perhaps, he might still find a place among the Marauders once more – such as Morlos’ destination as the dark mage made his way towards the Marauders’ secret base in the Spellfire Desert, a place he had heard about during his undercover assignment in the Marauders, but had never personally laid eyes on until now.

Searchlights illuminated the sand dunes as Morlos approached the perimeter wall of the Marauder base’s outer compound, guarded by contingents of turncoats from the Zel’Mier Armed Forces who remained loyal to the Marauder cause despite the fall of Zel’Myas. “Announce your business, intruder!” a voice barked over a loudspeaker as collaborator soldiers on the guard towers set the scopes of their M110A1 SDMR’s on Morlos.

“Hey, it’s me – Morlos, it hasn’t been that long that you’ve forgotten who I am right?” The dark mage smirked and raised his hands as Zel'Mier collaborator troops and splatter punks encircled him with submachine guns and assault rifles in hand.

The bald and muscular splatter punk known only as “Sunglasses” by his fellows shouldered his M60 as he approached Morlos, tilting down his shades – that true to his nickname he kept on even at night – down to look Morlos in the face, and quickly recognised the Marauder underboss. “Hey, no shit! It’s Morlos alright!” Sunglasses lifted a gloved hand into the air to signal for his fellow Marauders to stand down. “We lost all contact with you when those Drekis beasts stormed Zel’Myas… thought you to be dead, y’know?” the burly splatter punk escorted Morlos through the outer compound and into the main building of the Marauder base.

“Those fiends nearly got me when they stormed Zel’Myas, and I barely escaped with my life back there,” Morlos played it cool as he followed Sunglasses’ lead through the Marauder base. “I was left stranded behind enemy lines when Zel’Myas fell, and only just got out barely a day ago.” Morlos flashed a sly smile as Sunglasses nodded wordlessly, appearing not to question the veracity of the dark mage’s tale, walking past fellow Marauders who acknowledged Morlos either by giving him a nod, waving at him, or tipping drinking vessels in his direction. 

Eventually, the two came to a stop at a set of mahogany double doors with polished brass fittings and mother of pearl handles. “Mr. Darkone’s office is right this way,” Sunglasses gestured towards the door with his right thumb, “Figured if there’s someone who would be expecting you, it’d have to be the big bossman himself. Go on in.” With that, Sunglasses walked off to leave Morlos Gao to his own devices.

“So you have returned, Morlos Gao. And against all odds at that,” Toc Darkone’s voice – deep and smooth – greeted Morlos’ ears as the dark mage stepped into the Marauder leader’s opulently-furnished office with gleaming black marble and red granite flooring and lacquered birchwood panelling on the walls. Toc Darkone stood at the far end of his office, white gloved hands folded behind his back while staring at a gold-framed oil painting of Janus, the two-faced Roman god. An antique gramophone sat on an ornate cherry wood pedestal, playing a rendition of “Four Seasons Spring” by Vivaldi. “Come, let’s sit,” His back still turned on Morlos, the Marauder leader gestured to a round table in the centre of the room before lifting the stylus off the turning disc to stop the music.

Morlos nodded as he made his way to the table, stealing a glance behind him at two of Toc Darkone’s bodyguards standing on either side of the door – both identically-attired in crisp business suits and ties. “Do forgive my extended silence following the fall of Zel’Myas, but I had no way of contacting my fellow Marauders in the middle of what is now enemy territory,” the dark mage sat on the opposite side of the table facing Toc as the Marauder leader adjusted the gem-studded silver cufflinks of his dress shirt before resting his hands on the table with his fingers steepled.

“Well, I have little doubts you’d eventually escape then,” The Marauder leader smirked, his pale blue eyes glinting, “After all, for someone to rise through the ranks of the Marauders to become one of its underbosses is a sign of no small capabilities – and in these trying times, people of your calibre is exactly what our organisation needs.”

“So… I’m back in the band. Is that what you’re driving at, Mr. Darkone?” A grin cracked on what little was visible of Morlos’ face beneath the shadows cast by the hood of his wizard’s robe.

Toc Darkone chuckled, his voice like a cold breeze exiting an opened freezer as he wagged a raised index finger, “First things first, I have some questions for you.”

Morlos’ smile faltered at Toc’s statement. ‘Has he found out?’ An icicle of fear jabbed Morlos in the chest as he contemplated the possibility that the Marauder leader might’ve guessed his background as a mole. Still, the former Discordant Scion tried his best to keep a straight face in hopes that he could pull a convincing act before Toc, “Ask away then, boss.”

“See, you weren’t the only Marauder trapped behind enemy lines when Zel’Myas fell to the Drekis legions. By his account, Razor dug himself out of the collapsed building that Michael Cortelloni pinned him under – long after Zel’Myas was overrun by Drekis forces,” Toc kept an impassive, poker-faced look as he rested his chin on his steepled hands. “According to my enforcer, while evading the Drekis minions he saw you running… not in the direction of the Axia-Cretalia border as per Marauder contingency plans… but in the direction of the Darkshadow Forest. From Ms. Carlisle’s reports – that was where an entrance leading to Drekis’ lair in the Endless Caves is located.”

“Surely you can’t be saying I am in league with Drekis, can you?” Morlos forced a smile as he waved his left hand dismissively at the air, “Even if I fled in the direction of the Darkshadow Forest, he has no proof that I headed to the Endless Caves. Sometimes, the safest place is the one that looks most dangerous, no?”

“Fair point, Morlos. I’ll give you that,” Toc Darkone nodded slowly at Morlos’ defense, stroking the white goatee on his chin with the back of his right hand before raising his index finger, “But there’s one more thing… the events that transpired. We lost all contact with you just before the Marauders lost control of the city, and shortly after that was when reports of the Drekis legion advancing towards Zel’Myas began pouring in.” The elflike Marauder leader’s eyes narrowed as he rested his palms on the table, a sheen of frost forming on the tabletop where his hands touched.

“And what does any of these have to do with me?” Morlos managed a nervous chuckle as his right hand fiddled with the cracked umbricite amulet worn around his neck.

“Simple… I suspect that someone has been playing us against the Sentinels the whole time. Was it not you who kept advocating an alliance between the Marauders and Drekis Empire as soon as the Unsubtle reported her encounters in the Endless Caves?” The air between Toc and Morlos began to chill rapidly as the Marauder leader spoke, until the dark mage felt like he was no longer inside an air-conditioned office but sitting in the heart of the Frozen Wastes. “Was it not you as well who told me and Izohn that Operation Guillotine was a cover for a SLJ operation to liberate Zel’Myas despite the lack of proof?”

“Everything felt too well-timed to be a mere coincidence, Morlos,” the Marauder leader glared at Morlos from across the table, “You’ve been using us as pawns in Drekis’ schemes – and sought to remove us from the board when we were no longer useful.”

Morlos clenched his teeth as Toc Darkone delivered his verdict. Returning to the Marauders’ fold had always been a gamble for the former Scion, especially knowing that Toc was definitely no fool – where the average Marauder thought only about their next big score, Toc was a visionary who planned three steps ahead and played the long game. With his cover blown, Morlos had no choice except to make one final, desperate gambit.

“So what if I am!?” Morlos Gao sneered as he grabbed the edge of the table and violently flipped it into Toc’s face. “If I kill you right here and now, perhaps Drekis will give me a second chance!”

Toc’s right hand instantly sheathed in ice that formed a blade-shaped construct the moment the dark mage flipped the table at him. The Marauder leader performed an uppercut with his ice blade that cleanly sliced the table in two before it crashed into his face, but in doing so created an opening for Morlos to blast him at point-blank range with two bolts of green eldritch lightning. The spell hit the Marauder leader square in the chest to send him flying to the far end of his office, grunting in pain as his back slammed against the side of his marble-topped desk.

Toc Darkone’s bodyguards drew their pistols and opened fire, but the dark mage cackled at the ineffectiveness of their assault as the bullets ricocheted harmlessly off his protective shield. A sickly green light filled the office as Morlos blasted the bodyguards with his lightning spell, the two men dropping their weapons as they crumpled to the floor. With a trail of glowing afterimages in his wake, Morlos crossed the length of the room in the blink of an eye, intent on finishing the Marauder leader as his right hand shot towards Toc’s face, crackling with ghostly green arcs of electricity.

Morlos’ cruel sneer turned into an expression of wide-eyed disbelief as Toc Darkone caught hold of his wrist, stopping his hand an inch away from the Marauder leader’s face as he rose back onto his feet, appearing undamaged by the dark mage’s spell. “How…” Morlos gasped as a biting chill ran down the length of his arm, which quickly gave way to complete numbness. Looking at his arm, Morlos soon realised the reason he felt nothing – his entire arm had been flash-frozen into solid ice.

“No, Morlos… there’s no such thing as a second chance,” Toc glared at Morlos as the freezing continued to spread across the rest of his body. Even the very air in the dark mage’s lungs froze solid in a matter of seconds, and what stood before the Marauder leader was no longer Morlos Gao, but a lifelike ice sculpture bearing the former Scion’s likeness; his final moments being one of sheer terror, his mouth wide open to make a scream that never came. Toc Darkone smoothed out the creases on his shirt and waistcoat and adjusted his silk ascot before giving the ice sculpture that was once Morlos Gao a tap on the forehead. 

Small cracks appeared where Toc Darkone tapped the frozen Morlos on the forehead, quickly growing larger and larger before the flash-frozen dark mage’s remains toppled over and shattered on the marble and granite-tiled floor, ending the former Discordant Scion’s life. 

 

To be Continued...

[Justin Law]

Onward to Chapter 12: Fallen Angels

[Justin Law]

Or, back to Table of Contents