GATE: the clash of the titans V2

by Qun Nguyn1

Mostly AUs. A Gate has opened in Tokyo by a Roman-esque Empire, familiar scenario with familiar faces but the people marched through the Gate is from a vastly more powerful magic world. The stage is set. Earth Alliance vs The Holy Empire. Science vs Magic. The power of the thousand sun vs The Beast of the Apocalypse. Let the clash of Titans begin. Let the worlds have War.

22. Chapter 22: The end of the beginning pt2

Chapter 22 : The End Of The Beginning Pt2

Note:

- I am not sure what problem your are talking about. Hardy opened the Gate, Yes. And maybe awaken the dragon. But she didn't directly oppose JSDF or anything. With the Great War being waged, she is too damn busy managing new souls to play any trick. She has a job you know. The whole "Goddess of the Underworld" things.

- ULTRON is basically Skynet with J.A.R.V.I.S. personality so no machine rebellion.

- Earthquake weapon like earthquake bombs and nuclear bunker busters were extensively used with mixed results. The Holy Darwinian Empire ability to build tunnels, bunkers and underground cities make the Viet Cong, the 3rd Reich, the Soviet Union like a bunch of children playing with sand castle. And even when you collapsed the tunnels, there is 70% chance the enemy can dig themself out with their Titan powers.

-Lelei is a genius, true, but before reading about modern physics, her magic power was good but not dangerous. After reading about chemistry and physics she turned into a 40mm grenade launcher. The same thing could happen to other magicians. Falmartian plasma weapons are easy to meltdown and explode but even a third degree burn can heal in seconds with Titan power.

---

Rocky Mountain Arsenal Complex, Colorado, USA, 2030

Compared to other level 5 weapon research facilities of the UEADF, the Rocky Mountain Arsenal Research Facility hidden deep within Mount Sneffels was smaller and less funded, but packed with some of the most advanced technologies ULTRON and the UEA had to offer to study how to kill a demi-god.

"Any progress, Dr. Braun ?" asked Defense Secretary David Petraeus.

Dr. Josef Braun, one of the world's most notorious biological weapons researchers, raised his head to look at the Defense Secretary then shook his head in frustration.

"Jesus Christ, It was that bad !?"

"Mr. Petraeus," Dr. Braun pointed at the petri disk contain Rory's blood sample, which he had bombarded with an acute dose of 5 million grays (Gy), or 500 million rad, of ionizing radiation with almost no loss of viability. For comparison, a chest X-ray or Apollo mission involves about 1 mGy, 5 Gy can kill a human, 200-800 Gy will kill E. coli, and more than 4,000 Gy will kill the radiation-resistant tardigrade. "We've tried everything: drugs, viruses, bacteria, prions even nanobots and gamma ray. Demi-god cells don't give a damn, they just won't die."

"What about tachyon radiation?"

"The tachyon radiation can only prevent them from turning into a titan, it can't directly harm their cells. Demi-gods are imbued with a very powerful form of magical energy making them nigh-invulnerable. Only a direct hit from a nuclear weapon can temporarily incapacitated them. But consider their superhuman hypersonic speed and agility, you might need an ICBM to do that."

"Well keep trying, I got a feeling blood's still is the answer."

"I not going to bet on that, Mr. Petraeus," Dr. Braun pointed at the main screen to show him a microscopic visual of Rory's blood cells.

The cellular structure of a demi-god was similar to that of humans. However, a certain sub-atomic makeup in the ribosomes (organelles responsible for protein synthesis) is capable of absorbing magical energy and storing it. Once the ribosomes achieve saturation levels of this radiation, they begin to re-radiate the energy in the form of a bioelectric forcefield. Each individual cell within the field's radius becomes reinforced in such a way that the cells are not only protected from external harm, but internal forces as well. It was this last which was the key to Rory's great powers.

Since the individual cells were wholly invulnerable, they are capable of operating at levels of efficiency that would destroy normal humanoid cells. These "super-cells" lend an enhancing effect to all bodily systems...muscular, metabolic, nervous, and so forth. The continual absorption of magic energy provided a constant power source for these enhanced systems. Thus, Rory was capable of incredible feats.

Naturally, the basic forcefield effect renders her invulnerable to large amounts of damage. Unlike a human, Rory's body has more than simple cohesion and adhesion holding her tissues together. The bioelectric forcefield has a set tolerance for how much stress occurs before it reacts energetically in opposition to the external force.

The tolerance for how much stress occurs before Rory's tissues counteract it varies according to tissue type. Her bones allow virtually no compressional or tensional strain (deformation in shape) and her fleshy tissues remain supple under soft pressure, but under stress react to restrict any further deformation in shape. Since the strength of Rory's cellular forcefields greatly exceeds the cohesive force of any substance, no ordinary object could puncture her skin.

Rory could withstand a 10-kiloton nuclear explosion without ill effect, and had been able to tolerate the molten conditions in the planet's core with only discomfort. A 400-kiloton nuclear explosion knocked her unconscious for over an hour. She could not, however, survive the conditions inside a star.

Rory could easily survive conditions in deep space, but she didn't need to breathe, eat, sleep, and excrete. Rory could hold her breath for a maximum of twelve hours, and requires two hours of sleep a night to function at peak mental efficiency, as well needing to dream at least half an hour a night, or experience the psychological effects of sleep deprivation as would any other person who missed a night of sleep. When her magic energy was depleted, her resistance to physical punishment drops to approximately one-quarter the normal amount.

Withstanding large amounts of damage continuously over time would rapidly deplete her energy reserves.

Rory's cells provoke one another into releasing their respective energy when one begins to threaten the integrity of the other. Because of a certain degree of constant pressure, there is a continuously emitted radiance of the bioelectric field reaching slightly beyond her body, a sort of aura that protects items near her skin e.g. her costume. The aura also protects Rory's teeth, however her hair and nails are only partially protected due to certain cellular properties they possess. They are invulnerable to fire, however they can still be cut.

Due to the highly charged nature of her magic storage systems, her immune system deals with most normal poisons and diseases quickly and with no ill effect, radiation and similar harmful energies were similarly neutralized.

Her physical strength was greatly magnified by the combination of her more-efficient muscular system and the enhancement of her skeletal system's structural integrity, but was primarily augmented by the sheer force of her magic forcefield.

When Rory appeared to be lifting a weight, she was actually holding and pushing it with the bioelectric field. Her energy stores push not from herself, but from the shielding that surrounds her.

So the shielding was controlled on the highest level and simulates strength. She could lift 100,000 tons with serious effort. The conjectured upper limit of her physical strength has been determined to be approximately 250,000 tons with great effort, and causing strain damage to herself equivalent to an average adult human male lifting 500 pounds. Continual exertion would deplete her magic energy, and greatly exceeding her normal lift will drain her more rapidly. At the level of complete magic depletion, Rory could lift/exert no more than 100 tons of weight or force.

Similarly, Rory's enhanced metabolic rate, muscular speed, and nervous system grant her incredible speed. Her demi-god structure and the magical energy paths that course along her neurophysical structure allow her to react at many times normal human speed. She could read a complete encyclopedia set in seconds, wash a sink full of dishes in the blink of an eye, or run from New York City to Paris in a matter of hours. He could move faster than the human eye can perceive if necessary, but this requires extra effort. Her reflexes were quick enough to allow her to dodge incoming missile fire.

Rory's perceptions are similarly rapid, allowing her to see individual bullets fired from high-speed automatic weaponry in flight and outrace them easily. Moving at extreme speeds for extended periods of time rapidly drains her magic reserves. In a full drained state, her reflexes are only sufficient enough to dodge semi-automatic projectile weapons and read the encyclopedia set in under 10 minutes.

The godly-enhanced structure of Rory's sensory organs combined with the increased capacity of her nervous system provides for the greatly enhanced senses. Her range of hearing extends from the subsonic through to the point where signal modulation in broadcast communications could be sensed and demodulated into "sounds" if she concentrates.

Her visual reception range covers the entirety of the electromagnetic spectrum. The difference between human and Rory's vision was that Rory had the capability to see a much wider band of the electromagnetic spectrum; while humans only sense a very narrow band of the spectrum we called visible light. Rory could change the spectrum her perceives at any given time, by changing the chemical receptors in the rods and cones of her retinas. She could adjust her photovoltaic detection as an act of will to sense longer wavelengths down to the infrared, and higher energy light, up to X-ray and gamma radiation.

Demi-god muscle tissue when super-charged with magic-energy, could generate a powerful gravitational field. These fields in combination with Rory's personal bioelectric field give her the ability to negate gravity, allowing her to fly. When in flight, she's fully suspended by this energy, almost completely repelling planet's gravimetric influence over her. She becomes her own center of gravity, and no longer has to physically leverage against the gravity of whatever planetary body he's on, or any object.

By instinctively utilizing a precise muscular control, Rory was able to control the pull and force of her personal gravitational field, allowing her to essentially fall forward in a direction and speed of her own choosing. Through sheer force of will, she was capable of Mach speeds in excess of Mach 5 in atmosphere. Her control of her flight was perfect and she could perform aerobatic feats such as hovering, flying backwards and even lifting great weights while flying.

Rory could use the gravitational fields generated by the muscles in her eyes to produce a gravity lens, allowing her to focus far beyond the range of the human eye. Combined with Rory's sensitivity to light, she could magnify an image a virtually countless number of times. Rory could see through solids objects by using a combination of these telescopic and microscopic visual abilities to see through the atomic structure of an object and focus past it, as a camera focuses beyond the dust on a lens. Certain dense materials, notably lead, obstruct this ability.

Rory had the ability to expel stored magic and electromagnetic internal energy in the form of focused beams of radiation from her fingers. She emited light along various frequencies in high energy bursts that flash-melts materials in seconds, weaken structural integrity over a smaller area, such as melting the barrel of a gun but leaving the handle untouched.

Rory could control her energy beam and direct it wherever she wants to. She directed it with her fingers. In actuality, Rory could not emit the beams directly from her fingers. The energy was actually built up on the surface of the bio-energetic field surrounding her body and emitted from there. This allows her body to be protected from the energy and absorbing stray electromagnetic energy back into her body. Rory's energy reclamation aura was so efficient that any radiation, even those emitted from her, once in the environment were able to be reabsorbed. The heat beams were psionically controlled and that control was reflexive, so she could shut it off without accidentally damaging anything that he does not want to. She could emit the radiation visibly or invisibly at lower settings. Her energy had a high visibility profile if emitted at higher levels.

Rory had the power to release gale-force winds from her lungs. She could create ice blocks from her breath, as well as freeze objects and opponents. The psionic portion of her powers were made evident by these depictions. The only way for objects to freeze is if their molecular composition slows down in motion at an incredible rate.

The application of intense winds from Rory's breath was actually not sufficient to freeze things. Since Rory could agitate molecules to increase in motion, she could do the reverse. She was using the same effect that amplifies converted magic energy in reverse.

She was using it as a catalyst to access higher-order energies through an unknown physical mechanism. That same amplification mechanism was reversed to dampen or neutralize energies in the environment to produce freeze breath. Additionally, her vast lung capacity was not physically possible given the dimensions of the humanoid physique. However, her super-breath includes tesseract-type properties.

Both Rory's Demi-god physiology and the fact that her engrams were stabilized by a magic energy-frequency hologram reinforcing her neural matrix allow her near-perfect recall of events she pays specific attention to or that have emotional significance or were particularly striking.

Rory was a talented mimic, and could reproduce most sounds that she could hear. She could modulate her voice to transmit on radio or microwave/radar frequencies, and could expel a minute amount of air in space at a warm enough temperature and speed to carry sub-vocalized sound directly to one or more targets.

Rory required magic energy to function at peak capacity, or her powers fade to greatly reduced levels, some disappearing entirely if her magic reserves were empty.

Rory's body stores and processes magic energy at a rapid rate and for a variety of effects, which were explained in her other powers. Her storage capacity was sufficient to let her function at full capacity for up to 14 days depending on her physical condition and state of rest.

If forced to expend large amounts of energy over a relatively short time, or to maintain constant exertion over longer periods of time, she tires and her power begins to diminish. Constant exertion will revert her to normal humanoid levels after 14 days without rest. The power recovers at the rate of normal rest, and a full recharge could be accomplished with two days of no more than moderate, normal-level exertion.

"Like I said, Mr. Petraeus, the Apostles are essentially gods. You need a large H-bomb in multi-megaton range to kill them and I suggest using a liquid-fueled, MIRV-equipped super-heavy intercontinental ballistic missile like the RS-28 Sarmat as the most effective way to do it."

"If she is so invulnerable, how do we got this blood sample?" David Petraeus asked curiously.

"Menstrual bleeding."

"What!?"

"We told our agents to go into Rory's bathroom to collect her blood samples."

---

Minith Academy, New Miraculum, Falmart's Moon Oisin, 2069

Alright, ladies and gentlemen," said professor Lelei la Lalena "Let's get settled in, shall we ?"

"Today we will learn about the Great Celestial War and the bloodline of the Old Gods."

The Great Celestial War was an ancient and devastating conflict fought between the rebel Old Gods under Lucifer the First Born and the loyal Old Gods under Chief Prince of the Heavenlies, Michael. It began after the first humanoid species was created who made Lucifer believe that he should be the new leader of the Eternal Realm and rebel in the process. It is widely regarded by many as the first war in creation.

Lucifer, alongside with Khorne, the God of Warfare, Violence and Murder, Nurgle, the God of Disease and Decay, Tzeentch, the God of Change and Sorcery and Slaanesh, the God of Pleasure and Pain acting as his command generals, lead the rebel armies into Eternal Realm to destroy the Heavenly Host whom would dare oppose them and to storm Empyrean.

However, Michael and his own army of Old Gods, made a counter attack and warred with Lucifer and his army. The war seemed endless, with Eternal Realm being stained by the blood of gods, as the celestial beings fell from the sky with their wings torn, along others whom fell from Eternal Realm after rebelling against their lord.

With the power granted by the most powerful Old Gods, Yahweh, Michael ultimately proved victorious over their hated Fallen One adversaries and banished them to the Immaterium.

But the suffering and destruction unleashed by the war cascaded through the Immaterium, ultimately destabilising it and unleashing the plague of chaos demons that almost destroyed all sentient life. It took the Old Gods milions of years to restore life across the multiverse.

To safe guard life across the multiverse, Yahweh sending an Old Gods to each world acting as it guardian.

On Falmart, or Terra Magica in the Old Tongue, the god guardian was Falmart, he was somewhat lazy. The original 12 Gods of Falmart were created by him to outsource his own job to them, so that he can return home.

On Earth, the god guardian was Zeus, but he was killed in a conflict is known as Titanomachy. The conflict had leaded to the Late Bronze Age Collapse, the worst disaster in ancient history.

Within the short span one generation, the majority of Earth's most technologically advanced civilizations faced an existential crisis.

Nearly all of them were destroyed. The resulting collapse was a turning point in human history, similar in scope to the collapse of the Roman Empire. The old world died, and the Bronze Age died with it.

Before joining the Titanomachy against billions of chaos demons, Zeus decided to father a child with a woman named Electra as a contingency weapon that could one day save humanity by defeating the demon once and for all, anticipating the possibility that he would die in the war.

The boy named Heron and for over the next three thousands years, the Children of Heron had protect humanity from demonic incursions.

Over the years, the Children of Heron or the Blood of Jesus as they were known in the modern time, had hide within the wall of Vatican under the protection of Roman Catholic Church. Although the magic level of this "hidden" 100 man group was not as good as those of the Imperial army, at least in two years since they came out of the light, through the knowledge they provided, scientists have studied a lot about magic and human ancient history.

In the past the Children of Heron had a lot more members, at its height there are 10,000 descendants of Heron protect Earth realm. They become almost extinct after the war of Black Death in the 14th century.

"But their greatest contribute to the Great War was the Heron Super Soldiers Program, from 2032-2049."

The science of Heron super soldiers was based around the "Super Soldier serum."

"This serum is not merely an organic chemical substance, it is actually a fluid-based lifeform. It also behaves like a virus or, more specifically, a retrovirus. It will attach itself to a host cell, sometimes shrinking to the size of a virus or most likely dividing itself into many virus sized molecular structures and attaching themselves to the host cell's membrane.

The serum-virus then infects the host cell, making a DNA copy of the genome for use in making RNA. This RNA could be used as a template for making more viral genomes and as mRNA to produce viral proteins, which is known as reverse transcription. Serum cells grown in size and seem to attack white blood cells first.

The host body triggers an autoimmune response to the infection, causing the release of white blood cells. Once the bloodstream of the subject has been flooded with white blood cells, the infected cells send out a signal to the other infected cells that are not producing the virus-like cells which in turn grow in size, causing swelling in tissues and extreme pain. In most cases, this results in convulsions and agonizing screams from victims. This most likely stems from disrupted neural pathways where the immense size of these predatory seeker cells turn on the host's white blood cells and devoures them.

Genetically different serum cells will adapt and mutate for the betterment of the host. There is another factor in mitosis of Super Soldier cells that provides for extra "checks and balances" on the creation of new material. On one hand, the genome is thoroughly checked for anomalies in the DNA and can more likely spare the expense of ATP in these checks because of the plethora of energy in a "pure" cell. On the other hand, the DNA readily accepts foreign DNA if it mutates a cell for the betterment of its new host. The DNA of that cell is able to convert both unique serum, incorporating the DNA changes of both into the host cell.

Although the Super Soldier serum lifeform acts like a retrovirus, it is also sentient to a degree. The serum being sentient is the causation of many functions in a Super Soldier's physiology. The heart and many other major organs of a Super Soldier no longer need to pump fluids throughout the body as the serum can move on its own.

Also, since the serum acts quite aggressive in its spread, it pools in areas where it is most likely to be injected into another life form: the mouth and the sexual organs. That's why the sexual organs of a Super Soldier continue to function when so many other organs do not. The serum specifically chooses a Super Soldier's sexual organs as a transport mode to other organisms, allowing them to function normally.

The sentient serum along with the extremely rapid regeneration of cells are also the cause of the Super Soldier ability to heal quickly and attach severed limbs. Each Super Soldier has unique serum due to the DNA changes. The serum is able to recognize itself and send out signals over small distances. There is a symbiotic relationship between the sentient serum and the Super Soldier host.

Super Soldier serum is highly flammable due to the extremely long chain of hydrocarbons, similar to petrol, which is a part of their cellular protein synthesis.

The Super Soldier body temperature is low due to serum cells having an endothermic nature. Ammonium nitrate is a part of a Super Soldier's cellular cycle and it has uses for the serum as well.

The serum uses a thermodynamic chemical reaction that is endothermic: the ammonium nitrate combining with decreasing a Super Soldier's body temperature by using the reactant heat of the cellular growth. That's why the Super Soldier's body is able to undergo such complex chemical changes with an extremely short cellular half-life while appearing dead.

Super Soldier cells differ greatly from human cells. Super Soldier cell membranes consist of an organic based membrane "armored" with titanium molecules for strength.

Titanium is recognized for its high strength-to-weight ratio, which means its use throughout the body of a Super Soldiers does not affect his or her weight drastically. It is a strong metal that has excellent malleability without shattering. It is also white in color, which explains the lightening of a Super Soldier's skin color.

The titanium not only resides in the cell membrane, but is also in all other portions of the cell including the nucleolus, mitochondria, ribosomes, and Golgi apparatus.

Titanium found in the rough endoplasmic reticulum is linked to the extremely strong proteins synthesized by serum cells and is directly attributed to stronger muscles, faster protein synthesis due to conductivity within the cell and increased excitability in electron transport function, as well as energy released.

The ribosomes in the endoplasmic reticulum produce the proteins. As these modified proteins and other molecular byproducts of the serum interact with the human cell in the smooth endoplasmic reticulum strong steroids and lipids are created.

Super Soldier ATP differs greatly from human ATP. Normally, mitochondria convert potential energy from sugars into ATP. The mitochondria of the serum are extremely dependent on finding new hosts and the average Super Soldier cell has ten times the mitochondria as a normal human cell.

This is what causes the higher amounts of energy production that a meta-physical being such as Super Soldiers are able to sustain, allowing superhuman feats. An average human cell produces about 32 molecules of ATP per cycle of respiration. Humans use oxygen to bind and trap waste products during this cycle, which creates carbon dioxide in anaerobic cycles, or fermentation, the cell creates a different sort of waste product (either lactic acid or ethanol) which only produces 2 ATP molecules.

Super Soldier serum uses a process that binds nitrogen to create an unstable reactant, highly flammable, but with such a short half-life. The reactants are of an alcohol and an aldehyde. Ammonium nitrade is also part of the process.

Super Soldiers do not age because of apoptosis. Serum and Super Soldier DNA have programmed cell death, which ceases the aging process. The cells transmit a "suicide" signal terminating life with increased cell division when the genetic material has been damaged. Apoptosis is also the reason Super Soldiers have no hair or nail growth.

Some of a Super Soldier's heightened senses are due to physiological changes that take place during transformation. The heightened speed and strength are due to the supercharged proteins synthesized by the serum cells and the titanium in the Super Soldier cellular composition.

The Super Soldier hearing range is greater than that of a human. The structure of a Super Soldier's inner ear changes dramatically during transformation, increasing their hearing range to 20,000 – 20Hz. Once changed, they are able to hear over greater distances and communicate in infrasonic tones.

A Super Soldier's sight also physically transforms during the change. The amount of rods and cones in Super Soldier eyes increases dramatically, increasing the photosensitivity of the eye. In addition the pigmented oils in the eyes increase, assisting Super Soldiers in seeing a greater spectrum of color. The fovea changes shape as well, increasing the number of receptors available.

A Super Soldier's heightened sense of smell is similar to a canine. Although the amount of a Super Soldier's olfactory nerves does not change significantly, the amount of smell receptors increases by the millions. The visual cortex of a Super Soldier's brain evolves into a visual and olfactory cortex and it is able to process both sight and sound simultaneously. That's why Super Soldiers see "red" tinting their vision when angered or in the throes of bloodlust.

While Super Soldiers do not require oxygen, breathing is still a necessity for them, and not only for scenting purposes. It is also important to their cellular structure. Their bodies need nitrogen and titanium to survive, both of which can be found within the air (as well as in the blood they sustain themselves with), and, although Super Soldiers can hold their breath for extended periods of time, cellular damage would eventually reach a critical level. Also, their gas exchange system is used to expel gaseous byproducts from their system, facilitating the need to breathe.

The physical appearance of a Super Soldier's eyes change, to red, the color of blood. Although blood has nothing to do with the appearance. The eyes change color due to the effect of Rayleigh scattering (changes in directions of electromagnetic energy by particles whose diameters are 1/16 wavelength or less; this type of scattering is responsible for the sky being blue) which is caused by their unusual cell structure and the amount of bromine in their system, since bromine is a red color. Since their speed is increased, to many humans, it seems that their eye color changes when they feel bloodlust or sexual lust, but this is not the case.

With the influx of adrenaline into a Super Soldier's system, it triggers their feral instincts, causing their pupils to dilate rapidly and making their eyes appear to change from colored to black. Also, when Super Soldiers need to feed, the serum shuts down specific systems of their body until they are able to resupply it with energy, and replenishment of the replenishing of the colored oils in the cones appears to be the first function to wane, also causing their eyesight to decrease. The eyes of a Super Soldier who only drinks animal blood will change to a yellow color. This is due to more alkalines in animal blood reacting to the bromine in a Super Soldier's system.

The luminosity of a Super Soldier is much different than the original host. This is because of the titanium in the cell membrane reacting to light; the coruscation, or glittery effect of a Super Soldier's skin, is due to those metals reflecting the light. It is not noticeable to the human eye in low light.

A Super Soldier's brain undergoes many changes during transformation, which causes partial memory loss. The brain structure changes dramatically, creating trillions more synapses than present in humans and making brain functions increase exponentially.

The hardest hit section of the brain is the amygdala. The basolateral nuclei, the part of the brain that contains long-term memory storage, shrink dramatically during transformation. This is why so many Super Soldiers have very little memories of their human lives. Even though the basolateral nuclei shrink, the amount of synapses increases by the end of transformation, giving Super Soldiers an increased long-term memory. The best way to describe this phenomenon would be a computer memory-dump.

A Super Soldier's baser instincts emerge after transformation due to brain physiology and chemistry. The bed nuclei of stria terminalis (BNST) and the temporal cortex hold most of the new synapses (along with the aforementioned amygdala). Since this is the part of the brain associated strongly with instincts and emotions, their feral instincts resurface. Hunting, mating, and aggression are all associated with these areas of our brain. In addition, the adrenal glands function in Super Soldiers at an increased rate, making their epinephrine (also known as adrenaline) production quadruple; this also increases their feral instincts.

Although it would seem that Super Soldiers do not sleep, they in fact do sleep, but only unihemispherically (using only one cerebral hemisphere of the brain at a time). This adaptation of the brain is similar to birds and some aquatic mammals. The slow wave sleep patterns of one brain hemisphere will last for less than one hour, because Super Soldiers need much less sleep than humans.

The Super Soldier need to consume blood is due to the need for fibrinogen. Fibrin is abundant in blood plasma and it connects proteins together to form the Super Soldier's complex chains of protein synthesis and, to produce them at such a rapid rate; they would need a large influx of fibrinogen. Besides the plasma, this is a simple way to receive all of the nutrients their cells need to reproduce.

Adrenaline, water, amino acids, proteins, carbohydrates, and lipids are all available in blood, fueling their rapid cell growth quite successfully. Super Soldiers do not need to defecate or urinate due to the efficiency of blood as an energy source. Their bodies efficiently use every compound contained in the blood for energy, leaving no solid waste products, only gases, eliminating their need to urinate and defecate. Their gas exchange system is advanced enough to eliminate all waste in a gaseous form (respiration).

Due to their need for blood, any kind of blood, human, animals or artificial, super soldiers were named vampire by their fellow soldiers. This was the reason why only 13 million super soldiers were created by UEADF during entire length of the Great War, most of them were in the final desperate year of the war.

Super Soldiers in their first year of life as a Super Soldier have heightened strength compared to older Super Soldiers. It is commonly believed amongst Super Soldiers that this is because they are fueled by the leftover human blood still in their system. The truth is a newborn Super Soldier's strength is due to the amount of leftover fibrinogen in their cells. They actually have more fibrin in their system as the serum breaks down unneeded protein chains, enabling even faster cellular growth.

Super Soldier "gifts" are the result of a perceptual interaction with other spatial dimensions. How the human host perceived these dimensions explains how their gifts develop. These other dimensions hold the key to how humans can perceive the future and have other extra sensory experiences as Super Soldiers. Some humans have an extrasensory perception and are subconsciously aware of one or more of these dimensions. Since a Super Soldier's body undergoes such great changes during the transformation including heightening all of their senses, Super Soldiers are able to perceive these extra dimensions in a new light. Because Super Soldiers are able to perceive them differently, their brain waves are able to send and receive signals from these other dimensions and the brains of some Super Soldiers are able to understand those signals and translate them into usable data, giving them "supernatural" gifts."

---

Headquarters, Randi Institute of Pneumatology, The Pentagon, Arlington, VA

"This letter was received by the Institute a few hours ago.…. Excuse me."

Randi turned to a secretary who had brought in a message flimsy. He read it, then turned dead white. "Gentlemen, Ladies, my apologies. I must ask to be excused. Please carry on with the agenda." He turned and left the conference room, the sharper observers noting that he staggered slightly as he did so.

A few minutes later, Julie Adam, his girlfriend, knocked quietly on the door of his office and went in. Randi was sitting at his desk, his face in his hands, sobbing quietly. She slipped behind him and put an arm around his shoulders, she owed her sanity to this man and some comfort was the least she could provide.

"What's happened James?"

"An old friend of mine, Richard Clayderman, has been killed. He was attacked in the street, in Lemuria. He never stood a chance."

"A Chaos Demon?"

"No, a heretic worships Chaos Gods."

"Damn it, Richard. I shouldn't let him go to Falmart to collect data for his new book. This is all my fault." Randi started to cry.

"Stop blaming yourself, Randi, and try to think out how we can help your friend." Julie screamed to his face.

"What?" Randi was stunned by the comment.

"Well, we know he's in The Eye of Terror don't we. Everybody who dies in Falmart killed by Chaos is. We know Tyuwaru can find people in demonic dimension and contact them if she has enough to go on. You have pictures of your friend, personal stuff, things he gave you? Then give them to Tyuwaru, see if she can contact him. Then we can work out how to get him out of there."

"Bring him back from the dead?"

"Why not? We're sending enough occupants of The Eye of Terror in the opposite direction. At least let's try instead of wallowing in self-pity."

Inner Ring, Seventh Circle, The Eye of Terror

Richard Clayderman writhed and twisted on the burning sand, trying to evade the flurries of searing flakes that tormented him. As far as he could see, he was in a featureless desert, broken only by the forms of other victims thrashing about in the same agony as him. He had no idea how long he had been here, all he could remember was the knife plunging into him and then everything round him converging into a single bright dot, the way an old-fashioned television did when the station closed down. Then the impression of a tunnel and the sudden impact of the pain as he had found himself here.

This was it, this was the Eye of Terror and he was stuck here forever. Then he mentally struck himself, no, he wasn't here forever. He was here until the Earth-Falmart Coalition could blast their way down to him and free him. That was it, that was it all. He had to hold out until then.

The burns from the sand and those accursed flakes made thinking difficult and Clayderman believed he was going mad. There was a voice calling him."Richard, Richard."" He knew the pain from the burning was making him hallucinate. "Richard, Richard?" It was still going on.

"Lalla?" It couldn't be, she was still alive. He was imagining things.

"No, its Tyuwaru. Is this Richard Clayderman? "

"Who are you?"

"You don't know me, I work for James Randi. You are Richard Clayderman. If you are, we're using you as an experiment."

"I'm Clayderman. Please, help me."

"We're trying. Hold on."

Headquarters, Randi Institute of Pneumatology, Pentagon, Arlington, VA

"I'm through, I got him. Poor thing, he sounds so terrible."

"Being knifed and sent to "hell" will do that to a man." The speaker was one of four Special Forces men in the room, wearing orange-red BDUs and armed with the new M-25A1 phased plasma rifles.

"Get ready to move Lieutenant Madeuce. Once the portal is open, we can't hold it for long. And don't forget the bolt-cutters. Ready Tyuwaru? Here we go."

James Kirkpatrick started turning up the dial, artificially boosting the signal they'd recorded connecting Tyuwaru and Clayderman. Soon enough, the now-familiar ellipse started to form. As it increased in size Tyuwaru was threshing round helplessly on her couch, her partner dabbing her forehead and whispering comfortingly to her. Then, it was large enough and the Special Forces H-team stepped through.

Inner Ring, Seventh Circle, The Eye of Terror

"Get a poncho over him fast. Damn these blasted flakes, what the hell is this place?" Madeuce was angry and hurried, this was nothing like what had been described to them.

"Hell boss. Sir, stay still Sir, we'll get you out of this. Just hold still." The tool-steel bolt-cutters sliced easily through even the thick bronze shackles.

"Shit we've got company!" A figure, tall and black had suddenly appeared. Madeuce squeezed off a burst of superheated plasma from his holy enhanced M-25A1 phased plasma rifles at him and saw the figure lurch with the hits. Then a streak of fire shot across the burning desert and the chaos demon exploded. "Well done Frankie. They don't like them, the new anti-demon AT-5s."

Behind them the other two members of the team had freed Clayderman and dragged him through the ellipse. Madeuce and Frankie Portello followed them out and the ellipse closed behind them.

Headquarters, Randi Institute of Pneumatology, The Pentagon, Arlington, VA

"We got him!" The voice from the Special Forces team was triumphant. All four were back in the room and the portal had been open for less than a minute.

The body of Richard Clayderman was in the room with Doctors applying instruments and probes."We're getting readings, he's errr…." The doctor was about to say 'alive' but stopped himself. "With us."

"Richard can you hear me." Randi was urgent, almost frantic, far removed from the gentlemanly, calm demeanour he usually maintained.

"James how did you… what's happening?"

"We got you out. Don't ask how but we did."

"Mister Randi, energy levels we're getting are fading, its as if his life, if he wasn't already dead, was leaking out."

"Right." Kirkpatrick was already speaking to Tyuwaru . "Can you contact Lieutenant Kim Ngan please. Then we'll open a portal to her."

"All right, please hurry though." Tyuwaru relaxed on her seat and closed her eyes, concentrating on her picture of Lieutenant Kim Ngan. Over the other side of the room, the H-team was loading up with supplies for the Holy Liberation Front. No point is wasting trip.

"Richard, we can't keep you here, we're sending you back to the Fifth Circle. We have a resistance team there, they'll shelter you until they can get you into hiding."

"Ma'am." Lieutenant Madeuce was speaking to Tyuwaru. Don't hold the portal open after we're through. Once we've arrived, we'll be staying there for a while." Tyuwaru nodded with her eyes still closed.

On the Shore of the Styx, Fifth Ring, The Eye of Terror

Kim Ngan's eyes suddenly defocused. "Message coming through guys. Our resupply hopefully.

Lieutenant Ngan? It was Tyuwaru again.

"Yes Tyuwaru "

"Get ready, portal opening. There's a special forces team and a passenger coming through with some supplies. They'll explain what's happening. Get ready now."

The black ellipse formed as a point and rapidly swelled to its full size, large enough for a man to step through. Five figures came through, four in red-brown BDUs that matched the foul air of the demon realm very well. The fifth man was naked, his body burned but already starting to heal. Ngan recognized that, it was the enhanced healing power of the demon realm. This person was one of the dead, just like Kim Ngan and her little unit.

"Ma'am. Lieutenant Madeuce. Special Forces. This is Richard Clayderman, we pulled him out of somewhere else in "Hell" and brought him here."

"Why? We haven't room for passengers."

"We needed to know if people can be brought from the Eye of Terror to earth and stay there. Well, they can't, he was, well, dying for want of a better word. The egg-heads needed to know if Tyuwaru could find other people, we needed to know if we can do transits like this. So many things. Look, we're staying on to help you here. In your reports you mentioned a refugee organization. Can they look after him?"

"Why can't I fight as well."

"Because you're not trained to. This is a job for professionals." Madeuce's voice was curt. "Can we get him to safety. Ma'am. My orders are to place myself under your command."

Ngan nodded. Being dead had its advantages, if this war went on long enough, she would be the most senior Lieutenant in history. "There is a refugee organization, headed up by a woman called Rahaby. We don't know if we can trust her, this will make a good test. OK, Hùng, Oppa, we better find Rahaby. Madeuce, you bring supplies?

"600 kilograms of Nexgenbinaslex, another M82B5 23mm caseless sniper rifle, a lot of ammunition for same and six holy enchanted M-25A2 phased plasma rifle. Oh, and a video camera. The brass want pictures and films of the Eye of Terror."

Ngan nodded, the Nexgenbinaslex wasn't enough but it would do.

"Who are you Sir?"

"Richard Clayderman. I was an fiction author."

"I know, I read one of your books. Guess you must be pretty scared huh? Don't sweat it, we'll look after you."

Martial Field of Dysprosium, the Eye Of Terror

Had it been only four Falmart's weeks ago? Then, his army had marched out, banners flying, horns, and trumpets blaring, drums thudding.

A sight to stir the blood and induce martial ardor in all who saw it. A huge Army, 60,000 legions strong, 600 million demons had sortied to defeat the falmartian civilization. It was all supposed to have been so easy, so glorious. Trampling falmartians underfoot, ravaging their cities, destroying their works and carrying their souls back in triumph to the Eye of Terror.

And what was left now? How many of the 600 million demons had made it back alive? Or even half-alive? 3000? 4000 at most and the majority were wounded, some so badly they would be little more than helpless children.

Neither the earth humans, the Holy Order nor their weapons had mercy, those who their weapons spared, they left crippled and feeble. The sounds were as appalling as the sight of the shattered fragment that was all that was left of his Army.

No martial music, no bombastic speeches either. Just the wailing of the wounded and the bereaved. Abigor didn't know which was worse, the cries of the wounded or the yowls of the females as they hunted through the survivors for their mates. Mostly those howls turned into screams of misery as they realized their mate was not on the tiny list of survivors, on rare occasions, the scream of relief was moderated, diluted, by the grief when they saw the awful wounds the humans had inflicted. Rare indeed for a mate to find her demon whole and untouched. Not one in tens of thousands.

Abigor heard the sobbing at his feet. A cavalryman was sitting down cross-legged on the ground, the head of his Beast in his lap. The cavalryman was badly wounded, his side laid open by fragments, but his Beast was dying. The fire in its angry red eyes was slowly dimming and the cause was obvious. The wound in its side was massive, blasted open and burned deep. A seeker lance had caused that, Abigor knew from seeing too many.

"Sire, he wouldn't stop. I tried to make him stop and rest but he wouldn't. He just kept going, carrying me back here. I did try to make him rest but he wouldn't and now he's dying."

In this case, the Beast had shown better tactical common sense than its rider, Abigor reflected. If they had stopped, they'd have been caught and killed by the Iron Chariots. But it was true, the Beast had saved its riders life. "What is your name rider?"

"Visharakoramal Sire, of the Right Wing."

"Visharakoramal, take your mate and go home. Go to somewhere quiet and remote where none who might seek would look and make your home there." On the ground the light in the Beast's eyes flickered and went out. It was dead. "Do not let his sacrifice be in vain. Take your mate and go home, when hundreds of millions are dead, one more will not be noted."

Visharakoramal nodded and gently laid the Beast's head down, then took his mate and quietly left. Abigor looked around, catching another three figures coming through the Hellgate. Two demons carrying a third whose legs had been blown off, probably by one of the mage-bars the humans had scattered.

That was new also, the sight of demons helping their wounded. They must have learned it from the humans, at Hit, Abigor had seen how many humans would risk their lives to rescue one of their own who was in trouble. He'd seen the great Iron Chariots go places and do unimaginable, terrible things to help one of their own. It was strange, exposure to the humans was changing the demons in ways other than the nightmare of the human's crushing superiority in weaponry.

"Sire?"

Abigor turned. Behind him was a figure, not as great as he but still larger than the pitiful remnants of his Army. A Lesser Herald, but one whose wings were stunted and malformed.

"Sire I am Memnon, Lesser Herald. I have a message for His Infernal Majesty. May I accompany you to audience with him?"

An audience with Demon Prince Abaddon? Abigor shuddered, to relay the tale of this catastrophe was certain death."You realize my company might bring you death? Who is your message from?"

"From Demon Prince Horus Lupercal. And death I think, is the least of our problems."

That was true, Abigor thought. It might be good to have company on this final walk. He found himself urgently wishing he'd died on the run to the Hellgate just a few hours ago.

Six hours earlier, Hellgate, Southern Lemuria

Abigor crouched in the hollow. The Hellgate was clearly visible on the horizon, the impossible geometry glimmering black against the dark blue velvet of the predawn sky. For the umpteenth time that night– he hadn't slept; the quiet grassland sounds kept startling him from any pretence of restfulness – he began to mull over the defeat, and stopped himself. There was just no way of explaining how the humans had become so powerful.

Sighing, he shook himself and peeked up; the huge portal was less than ten miles away. A straight run would get him there in less than an hour. He would cross through and– and then what? Report to Abaddon ? Abigor frowned. If Abaddon had heard already, Abigor was as good as dead; no other Duke would want to begin to associate with him. His position in the court was gone, taken now, probably by Belial or some other scheming coward.

Could he stay with his former allies? The thought flitted through his mind, then was easily dismissed as he began trudging through the soft sand toward his destination. The Dukes who were former allies were just that– former. None of them would touch him with a thirty-foot pole now; given the totality of his defeat, he suspected that nothing could save him. But what alternatives did he have? Stay here, where the human magic crushed everything in its path and they sought out their defeated enemies to slaughter them like cattle? He had to get back to the Eye of Terror, he had to warn the others of the nightmare they faced.

The sun peeked above the horizon behind him, and his shadow stretched far ahead of him. The cloudless sky was striated orange and pink, fading to purple in the Southern sky before him. For a moment, Abigor stopped and looked around him, at the last clear, white stars fading in the west, at the beautiful dawn panorama unfolding in the east over the flat, unimaginably vast grassland wastes.

The ground here was as like a part of hell as any he'd seen, and yet above it stretched such beauty. The humans didn't know what they had, he thought; how could they appreciate such sublime beauty? And demons didn't know what they were missing either. With a twinge of sorrow, he contemplated again his ruined future back home under the dull, ceaseless striation of hell's skies.

Suddenly, his ears perked– a small buzz in the distance. Could it be a human implement? He froze for an instant, and in that instant, he detected a now-familiar deeper rumble: horseless iron chariots. He broke into a flat-out sprint for the portal.

Operation Trinity Headquarters, Alnus, Lemuria.

"Have we got the MQ-90 Quox feed up?" asked Supreme Commander Nuttall.

One of the technicians, Bert, replied, "Yep. It should be on the main screen right…" there was a ticker of fingers on a keyboard and a mouse click "… now." The screen blinked, fuzzed, and there was the Hellgate, black against the pink-lit sand.

The whole scene moved slowly as the cameras on the MQ-90 Quox zoomed in on the portal. The entire Hellgate surveillance mission had been on the backburner as the MQ-90 Quoxs had been used to control the allied forces that had annihilated the demonic army.

That was over now, the Chaos Demon army was shattered beyond comprehension or reconstitution, there were only handfuls of Chaos Demons free and alive between the Hellgate and the Lemurian Sea, and that had pushed intelligence-gathering back to top priority. Nobody ever won a war by defending themselves.

They won it by taking the fight to the enemy. It was time to begin striking back at the Eye of Terror, and that meant learning as much as possible about it, especially the terrain near the Hellgate which was, in the plans Nuttall and his colleagues were starting to draw up, the site of the first beachhead.

For a moment, Nuttall wondered if this was how Eisenhower had felt in 1943, then stifled the thought; Eisenhower had known so much more about his enemy, and his enemy had known about him. The two situations were only comparable if you didn't think about it. Then, he noticed a small black figure far below the Quox, also making for the portal. "What's that?" He indicated the figure.

"Just a moment, sir." The feed one the screen jumped through the magnifications until the figure was clearly visible: a large Chaos Demon, running as fast as it could.

"Feed this through to the nearest armored unit, with orders to intercept and – wait, zoom in just a little bit more." Something about the figure had triggered his memory. The feed duly zoomed, and Nuttall recognized the Chaos Demon: his counterpart, the lucky one he'd missed with the artillery during the main battle. "Orders to intercept and capture." If this worked out, it would be a huge intelligence bonus.

Hellgate, Southern Lemuria

The roar of the Type-92 Chamberlain engine almost deafening and the imperfections in the land bounced her around in her commander's seat, adding extra bruises to the impressive collection she had already collected. Captain Keisha Stevenson nodded as the crackling orders came through the radio, and then repeated them on the company channel. "Guys, we've got a target. Orders to capture."

In the light of the Lemuria dawn, the Type-92 Chamberlain tanks and Black Knight vehicles under her command sped up and veered left, the Black Knights belching black smoke and kicking up sand that hovered in the air in their wake, slowly dispersing.

Abigor ignored the pain in his side, pushing his legs as fast as they would go. The Hellgate was growing larger, a black swirling void underneath the horizon. If the humans didn't notice him, he was only a few minutes away from home. He could almost taste the sulfurous air.

But the roar of the iron chariots was louder dominating the sounds of early morning. He didn't let himself look over his shoulder, only gamely pushed faster. All he felt, his whole being, was now his feet pounding into the ground, his heart thumping in his chest, and the tingle of the magic in his back (he had long since abandoned his trident), all undercut by the gathering rumble of iron chariots.

All too soon, they were close behind him the cloud of dust they raised choking him. One pulled ahead of the rest and was almost beside him its odd head turning so that the long tube was pointing at him. Abigor tried to run around it, failed, then he switched doubled back and ran behind it, the Hellgate just a few yards away. His senses were overwhelmed by the cold and unyielding taste of the iron, not at all like the friendly warmth of the bronze or tin he was used to.

As he dived behind the Chariot, he could feel a blast of heat, uncomfortable even for his own thick skin. Even as he expected the deadly blast off human mage-magic in his back, he continued to marvel at the humans' ingenuity and ability to accomplish the seemingly impossible. Chariots, without horses, that generated their own heat, propulsion, and magic fire lances while carrying humans within them.

Then, even as the muscles in his back cringed in anticipation of the expected blow, the blackness of the Hellgate enveloped him

"Alpha-Actual. Sorry Sir, he got past us. No excuses Sir, he was so close to the Hellgate we only had one shot and we blew it. Want us to go in after him?"

There was a pause and Stevenson knew the message was going up the line and the response was coming down."Alpha-Actual, Command Prime was watching on Eye-Five. Word is don't blame yourself, that big Chaos Demon would make a great football player. Stay out of hell for now. Drop back one klick and go hull down with a line of fire to the Hellgate. The Generals are thinking."

And we all know that makes their heads hurt. Stevenson thought, and settled back as much as was possible in the turret of an Type-92 Chamberlains.

"Biker, take us back one click to the ridgeline we crossed. Time to have a rest."

The Banks of the Styx, Fifth Ring, Eye of Terror

Another demon had died, his head grotesquely shattered by the human weapons. Rahaby recognized the signs by this time, the physical destruction that had been wrought from a distance that gave the victim no chance of surviving, not even warning that it was under attack. She wasn't quite certain how many had died to date, might have been twelve or more. She did know the number included some of the demons that had once ridden so imperiously on their Beasts. The earth humans had proved her wrong, they could be defeated. In fact the humans had killed them quite easily with their machines combined with the Church holy magic. There was much to think on there. There was something else to consider as well. In her travels, trying to find the six new arrivals who were causing this mayhem, she had watched the demons and learned something else. They were scared, too many of their number had gone out on patrol and never returned. Now, they were beginning to skimp those patrols, to head through the area as fast as they could, not stopping for anything until they got back to the safety of the walls.

Rahaby found herself asking, just how safe were those walls? She had seen what was left of the mighty bridge over the Styx, a mass of destroyed masonry flung around the way an angry child might scatter play bricks. A bridge that had stood for untold millennia had been wantonly destroyed, with, it was rumored, the best part of a whole legion that had been unfortunate enough to be standing on it. There were work gangs trying to repair it, some of them humans driven by demon overseers but the destruction had been so great it was defeating their efforts. She had watched while some of the repairs collapsed again, the foundations undermined by the power of the destruction. There had been other attacks as well, on the great road that led from the depths of Hell up to the city of Dis and from there out to the field of Dysprosium. Rahaby had never been outside the great pit of hell but she had heard the area outside Dis where the Demons lived was quite pleasant by their standards.

Getting there would be a problem for the demons now though. That road had been the scene of one attack after another, the dead mounting as explosions tore into formation after formation. Rahaby shook her head, it made little sense but she sensed the demons were losing the fight down here. They were trying to protect themselves against ghosts who would strike and slip away before they could be found. The new arrivals didn't fight the demon way, for pride and honor. Rahaby realized they fought for other reasons entirely, they fought to win and woe to anybody who got in their way.

Rahaby felt the slam in her back that threw her to the ground and knew the agony of fear. Had she been caught after all this time? A figure was holding her down, her arms twisted behind her back and she guessed what was to come next. An agonizing rape certainly, then return to the hell-pit from which she had so barely escaped once before. Her time of freedom was at an end, there was no point in fighting and she went limp as she was rolled on to her back.

It was a kind of demon she hadn't seen before, one with huge, staring, lidless eyes and a face below them that was featureless. It was red-brown, a varied skin coloration that merged in with the background. Then, as her senses overcame the blind panic, she realized something else. This creature wasn't a demon, it was human. More than that, it was a living human, one from outside The Eyes of Terror. A living human that had voluntarily come to Hell? It was rumored there had been others but this was solid fact.

"Hello Rahaby. I see you've met Lieutenant Madeuce. Sorry about the abruptness of the meeting." Rahaby looked up, it was the woman she had met before, the one who had abandoned the hiding place with her friends. Now she was different, she was wearing the same red-brown clothes as the still-alive had on. Rahaby looked harder, she was also wearing a harness with strange green slabs on it and she had a black stick in her hands. An oddly, indescribably-shaped stick.

"Who are you?" Rahaby needed to know.

"I'm Lieutenant Kim Ngan, call-sign Ninja. These are the rest of my unit. That'll do for now. You might have noticed we have started a war down here. It's going to get a lot worse. That's part of the reason why we found you."

"Found me, how…"

"It wasn't hard. Leave it there. I'd guess the only reason why the Chaos Demons haven't found you is that they couldn't be bothered with you and there weren't enough of you to make any difference. So, they didn't even try. That's changing, we've hurt them bad and they're going to start fighting back. You need to warn your people and get them out of here. We don't have the numbers, yet, to protect a static population."

"Yet?" Rahaby was bewildered. None of what she was being told make sense.

"That's our first question, you wander all over the place. Have you seen any more like us arriving? If so, tell us where they are."

"Do you know how many people arrive here all the time? And this is a small part of the demon realm, a segment of one circle. A small segment owned by a minor duke. A few more have arrived here recently, I can show you where. But what if they are not the ones you want."

"That's the second thing. First part. We busted a guy out from one of the other rings. Tried to take him back to Earth but it didn't work out. He started dying as soon as he arrived. So, he was brought back here. He's not a soldier, no use to us. We want you to take him in, hide him. Secondpart. Same with any others that we bust out. If they're of no use to us, we want you to hide them along with the rest of your people."

"So you made a mistake and now you want me to put it right for you." Rahaby had the conceit and viciousness back in her voice. "Why should I help you?"

"Because we're all children of light, because the Eye of Terror isn't going to last very long. Our people are coming for us and Abaddon and all his foul legions won't stop them. The more chaos we stir up down here, the less resistance he can put up back there, and the sooner we will win. Because we are, believe it ornot, on the same side."

"Or we'd better be." Madeuce's voice was muffled by the scarf over his nose and mouth. The first few hours down here had been horribly uncomfortable for him and his chest still felt raw and heavy from the atmosphere. The scarf and goggles had helped a lot, just as they had in the sandstormsof Lemuria. "Just an idle question Rahaby. What happens when people down here die?"

Rahaby felt her stomach drop slightly at the veiled threat. "The Demons believe that we generate some sort of force that helps them to invade other dimensions. Humans, I suppose we just vanish."

Kim Ngan nodded. "Not a good deal is it? We can offer you a better one. Out of this pit, movement elsewhere in Eye of Terror, whatever elsewhere is, and a life. We're on the same side, just lets act like it, huh?"

Rahaby thought it over. They were right, things were changing and, like it or not, there was a war starting in the Eyes. "Very well, I'll take in your person. And any more you 'bust out'. Just don't overload me with numbers and give me time to get them away before your war turns into a bloodbath. Turns into more of a bloodbath."

"Done." Kim Ngan turned around. "Hùng, get Richard out of hiding, tell him he's got a new girlfriend."

Throne Room, Palace of Abaddon , Infernal City of Dis

Abaddon relished the atmosphere of absolute terror that was building up in his great throne room. The word was spreading across the halls and circles of Terror, through the streets of Dis itself, down the great Pit that it surrounded and into the garrisons that held the walls separating the rings of Hell. Abigor had failed. Abigor had been defeated, his army massacred. He had been defeated by the humans, his Army driven back inside the gates of Hell. He had been ordered to crush the mortals and he had failed. It had amused Abaddon to dream up some really inventive punishments for one who had defeated him so badly but there were more important things than petty revenge. He had to find out how this unimaginable thing had occurred. Was Abigor treacherous or just plain stupid?

The audience stirred and shrank back as Abigor entered, a Lesser Herald trailing in his wake. In a way, it was almost amusing, the desire for the other Demons to get out of the possible line of fire. Abigor walked down the hall, conscious of the eyes on him as he approached the great throne where Abaddon sat, watching him. He reached the foot of the throne and threw himself at Abaddon 's feet.

"So, Abigor, you have come to tell us of your great victory and regale us with stories of the sufferings you have inflicted on the humans?" Abaddon 's voice was the silky smoothness that portrayed real trouble and Abigor knew it."

"Infernal Majesty, I fear…"

"Good"

Abigor felt a flash of irritation at the interruption. "I fear that I have grim and terrible news. My Army was defeated, destroyed by the Earth Humans. Something has happened on Falmart, something that is terrible beyond belief. This army have magic that is so powerful we could not stand against it. They can breath on whole sections of an Army and leave nothing but mangled flesh, they have lances and arrows that never miss their target, that follow the one they aim at no matter how much they run.

"Run? So you admit your army ran?"

"After all but one in a thousand had died, Yes Sire, we ran. All those who did not died. Most of those who tried to escape the humans died. The humans have iron chariots."

A thrill of horror went around the room. Iron chariots had caused them problems once before, problems that had required a succubus, a peasant girl and a tent peg to sort out. Now they were back in a new and more terrible form?

The thought of Iron Chariots sent screaming rage flooding through Abaddon 's mind but he kept himself under strict control. There was so much he needed to know. "Tell me all Abigor. From the start."

Sprawled on the floor, Abigor started to relate the history of his devastated Army. How it had marched out of The Eyes of Terror and across the continent to its first objectives. The strange attacks on the way, the flying chariots that had killed some of his commanders, the mysterious explosions that had wiped out whole command groups. Then, the enemy defense line, the fire lances, the exploding ground, the snakes of iron that tore his troops apart. The way the humans had breathed death, how they never came close to their enemy but killed from distances. How they had slaughtered Abigor's Army then chased it back across the grassland, killing remorselessly as they did so. By the time he finished, the room was silent and the demon Dukes were looking at each other with profound unease.

"So now we know the reason for the destruction of your Army Abigor." Abaddon 's voice oozed charm, then suddenly turned to a berserk scream. "It was cowardice. Unmitigated cowardice. You claim that your Army pressed home its attacks bravely yet you are here alive to give the lie to that statement. Your soldiers were cowards who would not charge the enemy but ran away and you were at their head. You led the disaster, you led their failure. Your cowardice was the cause of your army's destruction.

Here it comes Abigor thought. A hideous death.

"But I am merciful." The oily cooing was back in Abaddon 's voice. "I will give you a chance to redeem yourself."

"Majesty, I thank you. But there is something we must do first. We must close that portal before it can be used against us."

"Would that we could." The words were not spoken but formed in Abigor's mind. It wasn't Abaddon speaking but he didn't know who it was. "Our mages have been trying with all the energy they can command. It is no use. We cannot close it. It may decay on its own, in time, but we cannot closeit. It is as much a fixture now as the very walls of Dis itself."

"That is not your concern coward." Abaddon turned to Memnon. "Tell me your story Herald. Let us hear how you ran from the humans and betrayed our kind."

Memnon stared at the leering, sneering figure on the throne. Abaddon had no idea, what hew as hearing simply wasn't registering. He began to speak, the experiences of the last month pouring from him.

Outside the Portal To Hell, Southern Lemuria

Running. It was all he could think of doing. Legs pistoning like a great machine his hooves kicked up sand and grit into thick clouds with each giant stride. His breath came hard and fast, foam flecked at the corners of his mouth and his eyes were narrowed into slits as he pushed his body to its limits and beyond in a frightful dash towards home. His mind was racing along with his body. The memories of his recent sojourn here on this dreadful plane burned through his fear and panic.

He had watched his wing mates annihilated by sky chariots. They never stood a chance and all their infernal might was no match for human magic. He did not have time to taste the shame that shot through him. It was not the time or the place to wallow in his misery. He needed to survive. He needed to get home. He needed to repeat the words.

Zarakynel. Damn, She Who Thirsts. To unleash Zarakynel on this world in all his awesome wonder and glory was almost too much to bear. After all who was he but a humble servant, a warrior for his Duke. And now to be a messenger, a go between for the demon-gods made him want to spill his guts into these grassland wastes and scream with impotent horror into the night.

But there was no time for that. There was only time to run and not think about the sounds around him, the cracks in the air that indicated some human was pointing his plastic lance and firing bolts of fire nearby, perhaps even at him as he rumbled by like a run away freight train. Were his wings healed he would be flying so hard so fast that the very sinews of his shoulder blades and joints would tear away.

There were the more ominous cracks of artificial thunder as human sky chariots blasted their way overhead. Sometimes it was followed by the deep bass rumble of human fire magic as it burst over a concentration of Never born and spread them over the wastes like fertilizer. He had seen one such strike up close as he ran.

One of the cavalry servitors tending to his dying mount looked up at him as he raced by, several foot soldiers were standing by the noble one waiting instructions. One must submit his will and being to a demon of higher order. It was the way of things. It was the natural order. The cavalry servitor demanded he halt and give a chant of greeting and submission. Memnon had actually considered for the briefest moment to do as he was told. Every fiber of his being seemed to tense as it prepared to submit as was custom and tradition.

The artificial thunder rumbled directly overhead and he remembered the death, the fire bolts, the arrows of doom that could pluck them from the sky as easily as a hawk picked off a field mouse for supper. And he responded in a manner that still haunted him.

"Run you fool!" he spat and his hooves did not falter, did not pause. He simply continued running, hot sweat hissing as it touched whatever it fell upon like an obscene rain. The cavalry servitor was stunned. Eyes bulged and tusks snapped loudly in anger and confusion.

"In the name of Abigor you will submit to me now or-"

Then there was the brief sound like parchment tearing or the clothes of some helpless human wench being rent by lecherous claws and then the cavalry servitor, his mount, and several of the closest foot troops exploded into a thick cloud of blood and bone. They were gone in a moment as if they had never been there. Several of the surviving foot soldiers were crawling away screaming in agony as they left liquefied or shattered limbs behind. He looked up long enough to see a sky chariot with its wings whirling over its head roar past in a low trajectory like a bird of prey surveying the carnage of its passing.

"Or what you fool? Everything has changed. Our world has been torn asunder." Memnon spat to himself in sheer disgust. He paused only long enough to make sure the chariot did not come around for another attack run but the combination of the billowing clouds swept up by the chariot's passing and his own panicked running had obscured him from its sight and unlike the other higher flying iron and plastic chariots this one seemed to lack the keen senses of its brethren and that saved the wayward servant of the Morningstar.

His body started to seize up and muscles cramped as he took those moments to slow down. He had pushed himself beyond all endurance and his body was now reacting to his fevered pace. At any moment he would collapse in an exhausted heap and sleep through the hazy pain to awaken refreshed.

However, one glance back at the bloody crater where before several of his kith and kin had stood fired him up and he raised one arm to his mouth and he bit deeply into the bicep. Flesh was rent from his bone and blood gushed into his nostrils. He snorted in pain and pleasure and that small spark of pain he was so keen on inflicting upon the useless wretches of humanity kindled a small surge in power pushed by will and fear and the Never born exploded back into his break neck pace.

And so he ran and ran. He ran past the sight of his grand army shattered into bloody remnants and screaming broken brethren who were begging for release, for a return to the fiery bloody skies of home and cursing humanity in whatever tongue they deemed fit. He ran through a charnel house of guts and sinews, hooves cracked exposed bone and ribs. He ran even as the air burned within his lungs like a furnace. He ran as he heard more thunder claps and whistling booms. He ran until he could run no more and collapsed in heap, blood spewing from his ruined bicep, frothy saliva spilling from his mouth and foam flecking along his heaving flanks.

There was no more left. No more to give and not even enough energy to take.

Memnon was spent to the last dregs of his reserves and he looked up to the sky to scream his defiance and await the human magic that was sure to rend him limb from limb. But then he noticed he was right at the lip of the portal to hell. Could it be? Was it not a failure? Had he pushed himself enough? Before him in a pathetic display a great beast dragged itself towards the yawning doorway home. Both hind legs reduced to splintered messes of dying meat and trailing entrails still it tried to get itself home. A leg from its rider was still firmly in the stirrup the rest of its charge probably scattered along the wastes. Memnon growled and fell upon the beast in a scream of desperation and anger at the predicament he find himself in, reduced to feeding off one of the great beasts to survive. He let his anger and frustration out on the wretched beast as it bleated in its death throes while teeth and claw rent muscle and sinew from bone.

Memnon fed deeply and voraciously as his anger, despair and shame burned in his belly worse than the rancid meat being guzzled in with such relish. He wanted to feed away the pain, the anguish of the defeat, the shame of running from prey, the despair of knowing that their magic had failed so completely and utterly and the gnawing fear that She Who Thirsts was moving behind the scenes, that Zarakynel would trod this world completely unleashed.

What victory was there in that? It was whispered from the elder days that Zarakynel's power was so grand that his death touch obliterated not only mortals life but also the mortal soul. His power, one of the greatest of all dead angels save perhaps for Horus the Great General, was the ultimate weapon because it robbed everyone, including the Chaos Gods of the prize of mortal essence. When the first born of Wakanda were swept aside their souls did not go screaming into Immaterium or the Etheric Realms. They simply ceased to be. Oblivion.

The very concept chilled the demon to its core. Nothing. Just the great darkness and void. At least in Immaterium these pathetic mortals drew solace from the fact that they still existed. Despite the pain and anguish they still mattered. But Zarakynel robbed everyone of that solace. His kinds was the Chaos Gods weapon of last resort. The great scythe that robbed all sides of the prize. Or so it was rumored by those higher than he otherwise why the dread at his coming. Why the reticence of She Who Thirsts to unleash him? His thoughts paused in a moment of revelation.

Standing at the Hellgate was a Lord. The Duke, Abigor.

In that instant he felt something alien. Something alarming yet exhilarating as he watched his Duke move among the shattered remnants. He was still tall and proud yet there was no longer that cold arrogance to his gait, the sneering pride on his features, the snarl of command on his lips or the lash of rebuke in his eyes.

Haunted.

He looked haunted and humbled yet he was proud now, not a pride borne of Dukedom granted to him in the mists of ancient history but pride in personal knowledge that he had faced the human magic and lived. Pride in that he was still here. He was a Champion of Chaos yes, but now he was a survivor. Memnon watched him speak gently to one of the survivors and he heard a brief whisper in his ear.

"Follow him. Follow him till the end of your story."

Memnon nodded numbly and rose wiping the gore and gristle from his snout. He strode up to the lord and spoke.

"My lord?" When Abigor turned to regard him Memnon knew he had found his leader.

Throne Room, Palace of Abaddon , Infernal City of Dis

There was, once again, silence in the great Throne Room.

"And what was Horus's message?" Abaddon's voice was loaded with contempt.

"He said this. 'She Who Thirsts' has spoken yet she sees vile repugnant defiance from the mortal realm. The Great Chorus must not be disturbed. The Pleasure must not cease. Your ilk were given this world and we see nothing but abhorrent failure. We do not want to take a more active role. Zarakynel awaits on the ether like a sword of Damocles. Last he moved upon the mortal realm, the Land of Wakanda wept bitter tears. Do not force our hand. Cow them. Stop the defiance. Should they find a way to disrupt the Chorus we will end this charade once and for all.' That and that alone, Majesty."

The silence in the room deepened. This was unheard-of, the great ones never interfered with the domains of others. When they did, it meant a war. There had been one between Abaddon and Horus already and nobody wanted that experience repeated. Still, Horus never interfered in the work of Abaddon , just as Abaddon never did so with Horus. Or anywhere else for that matter.

"Despite those ill-chosen words, crushing the mortal is a necessity. All our armies are being brought to full strength of 81,000 legions." That was almost 810 million demons in each.

"Asmodeus, Beelzebub and Dagon will command three such armies including their own for our renewed assault in Earth."A gasp went around the room, that meant Abaddon was committing 729,000 legions out of the professional Army force of 999,000 legions, 939,000 now that Abigor's Army had been destroyed.

They would only have 210,000 legions left in the Eye of Terror to defense it. Almost 7,3 billion demons would be turned loose on Falmart. There had never been a military exercise like this, not even in the war with Horus.

"Sire, I beg you." Abigor's voice was urgent, his mind filled with the picture of what must surely come. "The portal is a death trap even for such a force. There is a ridge that dominates in and humans fight from behind ridges. By now they will have every chariot, every fire-lance, every seeker lance they have aimed at that portal. As our demons funnel through it, they will be destroyed. The death will continue until the portal is blocked by our dead."

"I know." Abaddon 's voice was still calm and oily. "That is why you will take your Army and seize that ridgeline."

"My Army has been destroyed. Barely 3000 are left in condition to fight."

"Then make up the numbers with your mates and your kidlings. The youngest and the oldest. If they can carry a trident they go. If they cannot, they can go anyway and fight with bare hands. You will leave none of your clan behind. If they can crawl to that ridge, they will go."

Abigor shook at the sentence. It meant death for him and all of his line, that was clear. He rose to his feet, nodded and left.

"And now, Herald, what shall I do with you?"

"Majesty, I would join Abigor and go with him."

"So be it." Memnon turned and left, following Abigor from the throne room.

"Asmodeus, Beelzebub and Dagon. You have many reservists in your ranks. Train them properly before launching your assault. There is no hurry."

Asmodeus frowned. "But Sire. What about Abigor?"

"Abigor who?"

Southern Grassland of Lemuria

Corporal James Moss, well he was an Acting Sergeant, as the old platoon Sergeant was gone (he had been a member of the Free Church of Scotland), of 3 Platoon, A Company, 1st Battalion The Royal Scots, scanned the grassland around him from the commander's hatch of the FV432 'Bulldog' APC. As with the other Scottish regiments 1st Royal Scots, the senior line infantry regiment of the army, had been de-amalgamated, in its case not only from The Royal Regiment of Scotland, but also from the King's Own Scottish Borderers. Part of the regiment,mainly men from the Borderers, had been sent home to the UK to help form the new 1st Battalion, The King's Own Scottish Borders, while a mixture of reservists and Territorial Army soldiers took their place in Lemuria .

While the upgraded'Bulldog' was considered by the troops to be an excellent vehicle, having protection fully equal of the Warrior IFV, the fact that it was only armed with a GPMG had kept the units equipped with it out of the fight with the Chaos Demons. Major General Brims had kept them and the 1st Battalion The Duke of Lancaster's Regiment back as his reserve, while the 1st Battalion The Scots Guards and 1st Battalion The Mercian Regiment (Cheshire) had all the fun in their Warriors.

Determined to play some useful part the Scots and Lancasters had scoured armouries for heavier weapons to replace their GPMGs with. Moss' 'Bulldog', for example, had a Browning HMG on the commander's mount, the GPMG being relocated to a pintle mount aft of the main troop compartment hatches. Getting enough Brownings for his platoon had cost Moss every bottle of whisky that the platoon possessed, and most of their beer. A very happy American unit had handed over the HMGs and ammunition and had immediately drawn replacements for themselves.

Other'Bulldogs' had Russian made DShK machine-guns taken from Chinese i armouries while some sported American Mark 19 Grenade launchers. The British Army had adopted that weapon for use in Afghanistan and the Quartermaster would surely be surprised to find out how many were now in the unofficial inventory. With their new armament the 'Bulldog' equipped battle groups had been sent out into the grassland behind where the armoured battle groups of 4th Mechanised Brigade had advanced, to sweep the ground for any stray Chaos Demons who may have escaped.

A few Chaos Demons and injured harpies had already been encountered by the mechanised patrols and successfully dealt with. Mostly killed, but there were whispers that some had been taken prisoner. It was also whispered that units who managed to take such prisoners would be smiled upon by those in authority. However this long after the defeat of the demon army the chances of encountering a live Chaos Demon, or even a dead one, as the corpses had largely decomposed, was slim. Still, Acting Sergeant Moss was ever hopeful of getting his chance.

"I can see something move over there, Corp…er, Sarge." One of the dismounts, who was standing head and shoulders out of the open troop hatches reported.

Moss cocked the big Browning and swung it round in the direction that the private had indicated, while he studied the object through the Common Weapons Sight on his new L1A2 (he had taken the CWS off his old L85A2 and fitted it to the new rifle).

"Oh, sorry, false alarm, it's a cow, or something."

"Bloody numptie." Moss complained. "You had me going for a minute there."

"That's the feckin' real thing though!" Another soldier called out, flipping the safety catch off his rifle and opening fire.

The Chaos Demon that the soldier had spotted had started to try an run as soon as he had heard the APC approach, but was too weak to move particularly fast. The .75 Mithril round struck him in the side and was enough in his weakened state to bring the demon down.

"Davie, halt!" Moss said to the FV432's driver. "I think we might have just taken ourselves a Chaos Demon prisoner."

The Portal of Hell, Southern Grassland, Lemuria

In any other circumstances, the sight would have been hilariously funny. The little force about to sally through the portal was built around veterans of the first great invasion, most still bearing the wounds of that horrifying massacre but the rest? Kidlings wearing equipment to big for them, so heavy they could hardly lift it, mates who were scarcely any better off. None of them knew how to operate their tridents, how to charge them and then discharge the magic in a searing bolt. Most of the mates were crying, they knew what awaited them. The kidlings were excited, trying to run around with their equipment, assuming that what was about to happen was just a game. One kidling couldn't lift his trident properly so had it over his shoulder with the end trailing on the ground behind him. In any other circumstances, the sight would have been hilariously funny but Abigor's heart was near breaking.

"Get ready!" His order ran around the group, bringing them into some form of formation. "Move out." He went into a jog-trot and stepped through the great ellipse that represented the portal between dimensions, into the clear yellow sun and blue skies that he had devoutly hoped never to see again. Behind him, his pathetic rag-tag band appeared in a grim pastiche of a fighting formation.

The truth was, Abigor was surprised to be still alive. He had expected to be swamped by a barrage of fire-lances and mage bolts as soon as he and his band had emerged but the grassland was silent. The ridge up ahead of them seemed deserted but Abigor wasn't fooled by that, he knew the humans would stay below the ridgeline where they were safe until it was time to pour their fire into their enemies. Thinking about it with the clarity that accompanies imminent death, Abigor suddenly realized that it was a very sensible approach.

Yet still the grassland was silent, no hideous holocaust of fire erupting around them. Had he been wrong? Had the humans given up and gone home? Surely that was unlike them, it didn't fit the remorseless harrowing of his Army as it had retreated across the grassland. But why was it silent?

"Everybody, be careful where you put your feet. Do not step on mage-bars. They will kill you." Or worse he thought, but there was no need to worry the mates and kidlings with that possibility. Despite all his fears, the ridgeline was approaching fast as he jog-trotted across the grassland. For preference, he and his veterans would have been at a full run to cover the ground as fast as possible but they had to measure their pace to the abilities of the weakest members of their group. This attack was a sick joke and Abigor knew it.

Yet it had succeeded. They reached the ridgeline and deployed on it. The mates and kidlings were exhausted by the run across the grassland, the veterans were barely fazed by its exertions. Abigor was keeping them relatively closely bunched. He knew it was wrong, that he should be dispersing his people out so they would not be slaughtered in mass by the human mage-magic but that was not his intent. He knew his group could not survive and keeping them bunched would mean a quick death for them all as the humans concentrated their fire on them. He had seen to many demons screaming their last seconds away as they had been torn apart yet still lived. He did not want his kidlings and mates to die that way.

The minutes ticked by, Abigor marvelling that the humans had taken so long to react. He glanced behind him, the forces that were supposed to have followed him out were nowhere to be seen. That, he had expected. He had known from this start that this'attack' was really just a mass execution. Then, overhead, Abigor heard the screaming howl of mage-bolts as they started to descend upon him. It was all over.

Combat Team Alpha. By the Hellgate, Southern Lemuria

"Any movement Hooters?"

"All still out there. Nothing happening." Stevenson's combat team had drawn the Hellgate watch assignment for the day. She had her platoon of Black Knights in the center, holding a ridgeline while her two platoons of Type-92s tanks were spread out to either side. If the Chaos Demons emerged, they'd fight in the best traditions of the U.S. Army, they'd protect their artillery observer while he called down unimaginable firepower upon their enemies. "Wait one, there's movement. Here they come again."

Down in the grassland, figures were emerging from the Hellgate. They were a disorganized stream, undisciplined, nothing like the neat formations that had emerged before. They were spread out in the grassland, running straight at the dug-in Black Knights but to Stevenson's already experienced eye, this wasn't an attack. Anyway, was that all of them?

"Alpha-actual to Domino. We have Hellgate activity. Chaos Demons emerging, number estimated at.." Stevenson did a quick count, there were around 4000 at most. "Four thousand, say again four-triple-zero. Heading for our position."

"Four thousand demons? Are you sure of that?"

"Sure am. Four thousand, no follow up force. There's something very wrong about this." She thought for a second and looked through the high-powered optics on her tank. She blinked and looked again. "Sir, this force is a joke. There are some regulars down there but there are some small ones that can hardly lift their weapons. Others don't have any at all." She looked again, at the way the formation was breaking up as it crossed rough ground. For the first time she appreciated the amount of training the earlier formations had shown. Their lines had never wavered, never broken no matter how rough the ground or intense the fire brought down in them. This mob were not even in the same class. "Sir, these Chaos Demons aren't soldiers, most of them aren't. They look more like civilians."

"Understood." There was a pause. "Deny contact, ring them off, don't let them go anywhere but hold your fire until ordered otherwise. Give them at least 1500 meters clearance"

"Very good Sir." Stevenson broke contact and changed to her command frequency. "Third platoon fall back, let them have the ridgeline, we don't need it. First and second, move up to flanking positions. Hold fire."

There was a cloud of dust and black smoke as the Black Knights backed off their ridgeline and headed for the one about 2,000 meters to the rear. They were already in position when the Chaos Demons ran up on to the ridge and started to deploy into a defensive perimeter. A tight one, Stevenson thought, perfect for artillery. Didn't Chaos Demons ever learn?

"Report." The single word came over her radio.

Stevenson looked carefully. "We're in position. Sir the enemy force is at least 50 percent civilian. There are small ones running around, I think they're playing, it looks like their children of some kind. And others are behaving like their mothers." She flipped her optics up to full power. "Well what do you know, our big friend the football player is up there."

"Very good. Hold positions, do not open fire. This is going right up the chain."

Stevenson relaxed in her seat, watching the Chaos Demons. There were some real soldiers across there, they were watchful, their tridents at the ready. But the rest? No way were they soldiers. Women and children was Stevenson's guess. Hokay, I guess now is when we find out what sort of people we really are she thought to herself. The minutes ticked by until almost an hour had passed.

"Alpha-Actual. This is Command-One."

Whoa, that meant Supreme Commander Nuttall himself. "Alpha Actual Sir."

"Get ready, there's artillery fire coming in. IP between you and the Chaos Demons. Safe distance from both but its tight. FYI, we're going to try and get this lot to surrender. As soon as the shells have landed, expose your vehicles but do not, I repeat do not, open fire. One shot from you without orders, Captain, and you'll be burning shit for the rest of your career."

"Understood Sir. Expose but do not fire."

Overhead there was a howl of descending 180mm shells from a M1299 battery. The salvo was beautifully placed, one shot to each side of the Chaos Demon group, two in front of it, two behind. A perfect hexagon that was just, only just, far enough out to be safe."All Alpha Vehicles, move up onto the ridge crest. Do not under any circumstances fire. Repeat, do not under any circumstances open fire. Require verbal repeat and acknowledgement of that order from each vehicle." She listened as the acknowledgements came in. Then, her Chamberlain lurched as she moved up to the crest of the ridge.

On The Ridgeline, Hellgate, Southern Lemuria

Abigor's skin crawled as he expected the lash of mage-fire and iron fragments but the grassland erupted in a neat hexagon around his unit, the bursts harmless. Oh, they buffeted and shook the ground but there were no screaming, disembowelled demons on the ground to show they had landed. Then, all around him, Iron Chariots appeared. In front, to either side, behind him. The humans really did love surrounding their enemies so that none could escape when the killing started. But the Chariots remained silent. No fire lances, no seeker lances, the chariots just sat there and watched him. The silence was eerie after the crash of the mage-bursts. The kidlings had stopped their games, the mates their weeping, everybody was just waiting. It dawned on Abigor they were waiting for him. Everybody, demon and human were waiting for him.

If they were waiting for him to start fighting, what happened if he did not? Why had the humans given him a chance denied to him by Abaddon ? What would happen if he took that chance? It couldn't be any worse than what would happen if he didn't. Abigor made his decision and stood up, throwing his trident away. Then, he raised his hands to show he was unarmed. "All of you, throw down your arms. Stand up and raise your hands like mine. So that the humans can see we are unarmed."

Across the grassland, the Iron Chariots kicked up a cloud of dust and started to move in.

Combat Team Alpha. By the Hellgate, Southern Lemuria

"Sir, they're surrendering. They've thrown down their arms and are standing up. They've raised their hands, all of them."

"Captain Stevenson, move in, carefully. This may be a trick but if it isn't we have a priceless opportunity here. Do not fire, even if fired upon."

That means I'm the sacrificial goat. Stevenson thought. She gave the order and her command started rolling closer to the group on the hill crest. They were motionless as her tanks and armored infantry vehicles closed in. When they were less than fifty meters away, the big one, the one Stevenson thought of asthe football player, dropped to the ground and sprawled out on the sand. She checked her intercom, making sure it was set so only her crew could hear her. "Reminds me of one of my ex-boyfriends guys. I wonder if he wants me to trample him too?"

There was a suppressed series of snorts from her crew. She stopped the vehicle and got out, climbing down the outside of the turret and on to the ground.

"I am Captain Keisha Stevenson, United States Army. I am authorized to accept your surrender."

"I am Great Duke Abigor. I am, or was, commander of sixty thousand legions of damn. I offer you my surrender and fealty."

White House Communications Center, Washington DC.

"Vladimir, this is Dirrel. I have urgent news. General Abigor has just surrendered and defected."

"That filthy Vlasovite bastard."

"Sorry, Vladimir, you misunderstand, he's a Chaos Demon, he's defecting to us."

Without missing a beat, Putin carried on, "What I meant to say of course was that he is a heroic champion of freedom and liberty who has overcome his corrupt upbringing so that he can rally to the side of truth honor and justice."

"That's right Vladimir, he's a filthy Vlasovite bastard, but he's our filthy Vlasovite bastard."