An excerpt from Hierarchy Culture: Understanding the Many Faces of the Enemy. Volume 5 by Scholar Hendricks Ullesto

"It is to the amazement of many of my colleagues that I note how Hierarchy culture does not understand the concept of hubris."


Riley's head was throbbing. The pain was constant, syncing up with his heartbeat. He struggled to form coherent thoughts. His body shuffled slightly and he heard muffled voices. Was it the Heathens? Had they captured him?

No, that couldn't be it. The traitors were still waging their war on Calixis. He was in a new system. His eyes blinked open, the light of a small fire reaching him.

"He's awake." Ringo knelt beside him, slowly helping the Sergeant to a more comfortable position. "Are you alright sir?"

Riley coughed from the exertion, "We practically got shot out of low orbit, how do you think I'm doing?" Ringo chuckled, glad to see Riley still had his dry wit, and signaled to someone else behind the two. Riley felt a needle slip into his forearm where the armor had been removed. In an instant, his bloodstream was filled with painkillers. He let out a soft sigh, relieved that his head had stopped pounding.

"Thanks, Singe." The trooper nodded and turned away, returning to the side of their cave where his equipment was waiting for him. Riley looked around their small hideout, noting the bedsheets and carefully stacked equipment.

"Where is everyone else?" He questioned.

"Redeye and Vinda are doing some recon," Ringo said, gesturing further down the cave toward what Riley assumed to be the entrance. "Backfire is MIA." Then, almost as an afterthought. "So is Flak."

"How long was I out?"

"A few hours."

"Why haven't you been able to find Backfire then, has his life sign gone down?" Ringo seemed a little conflicted.

"He's still alive, but that's all we know. We haven't been able to raise him on comms. Hell, couldn't even raise Singe if I wanted to." The quiet trooper looked up from his work at the mention of his name, only for Ringo to wave him off. "Redeye thinks it might be some kind of atmospheric interference. We can't make contact with the Captain either."

Riley nodded as he took in the information. Given what he understood of the situation, his men had done exactly what they were supposed to do. A small bubble of pride welled up within him, only to be dwarfed by concern for what this information entailed.

"Any sign of the ships that pursued us?"

"We'll know as soon as the others get back."

Riley sat up and rubbed his sore head. To say the mission hadn't gone to plan would be an understatement. But he was more than accustomed to that. His main priority would be to complete the mission. He could worry about reestablishing contact later. He just hoped that Flak had been able to transmit an SOS to the Last Flight Home. All he could do is pray.


"Strikers closing in!"

Blitz nodded at the warning, his eyes darting across the display before him. Dozens of warnings were flashing at him. Strikers bore down on his ship from every angle. His shields were holding but he didn't have enough functional guns to shoot them down. Fortunately, the warning he received from Flak had given him enough time to scramble what few fighters he had. He watched as Phoenix ASVs tore through the void, sticking close together. The two-man vehicles could be retrofitted to serve a variety of roles; recon, bombers, fighters, and more. At the moment, he was just glad they could fly. Was there any equipment on this ship that wasn't broken?

He glanced down at his left arm, his mechanical fingers curling slightly. It seemed the answer was no.

"How are they doing out there?" He asked, not entirely certain he wanted to know.

"Our forces are currently outnumbered three to one," Kilt reported. Blitz wondered if he heard a slight tinge of panic under her trained stoicism. "Despite that, they're putting up a remarkable fight."

"Of course they are," Blitz said. "They're Imperials fighting to protect something. There's no force in the Universe more dangerous than that." He glanced at the display again just in time to see one of his pilot's life signs flicker off. That was Broadsword. He was a good man. They were all good men.

"Sir, additional contacts," Kilt warned. "Landing craft! Lots of 'em!"

Now that was unexpected. If they kept up their assault, they would wear him down through sheer attritional weight. So why send more men to their deaths? While he would always relish the chance to spill alien blood, he could not understand it from a tactical point of view.

Then there was also the matter of using landing craft as opposed to boarding craft. They were two different vehicles meant for two different purposes. He supposed the Hierarchy simply must not have any available at the moment.

Blitz narrowed his eyes, realizing he was approaching this from the wrong point of view. He was thinking like an Imperial. He needed to be thinking like a Hierarch. They were prideful and obsessed with their strange concept of honor. Blitz could understand that part. He had his own honor; his loyalty.

"Redirect all guns to target those landing craft," he ordered. "Mobilize squads to prepare to repel boarders. And prepare to awaken the Venerable. We may need him."

Blitz watched his crew get to work, scurrying across their terminals with diligence and haste. His display let him know that several missile pods had finalized their targeting solutions and were merely waiting for his words. A solitary finger pressed down on the activation button, giving his gun crews permission to unleash their volley.

"Fire!"

In an instant, the void was filled with Thunderstrike missiles. Named for their swiftness and booming sound, the missiles tore through the void at unparalleled speed. The Hierarchy landing craft tried to adjust course, but most were too late. Dozens of ships exploded, temporarily lighting the vacuum like miniature stars. Regretfully, more ships were still closing in. Still, he had thinned the gap. He was confident that his men could repel the boarders, they had the numbers advantage after all. And if it came down to a war of attrition, the Empire would always eventually win.

He pulled up a side feed, checking the numbers to ensure that his soldiers were ready. The remnants of his forces had armed themselves to repel the landing craft and were moving to intercept. It was likely that the Hierarchy would be able to fight their way out of the hangars, their superior guns and mobility giving them the edge. However, once the fight went close quarters, the battle would be one he had a better chance of winning.

Blitz rose from his seat and felt some of his bones pop. He raised his right arm to his head, observing the Kinetic Gauntlet wrapped around it. The oversized glove encased the entirety of his hand and forearm. Clenching his fingers, he could feel the internal mechanisms beginning to charge. He let the power dissipate as he turned to the door.

"Kilt. You have command of the bridge in my absence. Should I fail to return, give those bastards a salvo from me."

"May I ask where you are going, sir?" Kilt asked. Blitz turned back to her, sliding a pistol off the magnetic holster on his thigh.

"To lead the welcoming committee."


Backfire groaned as he awoke. His eyes fluttered for a moment as he blinked away his sleep. His body was leaning back in his seat, gravity pulling him downward. Feeling his muscles complain, he reached up and undid his harness. Now with full range of motion, he tapped the door gently with his foot. The hollow ringing sound told him that it wasn't obstructed. He reached overhead and pulled the emergency release. With a hiss, the door burst off its hinges, going flying into the trees before him.

After taking a second to gather and secure his gear, Backfire exited his pod. As he suspected, it had landed on its side. Fortunately, he was facing skyward. Due to the pod not deploying conventionally, the doors had remained sealed. It was a basic security measure, one any Imperial soldier could work around.

Backfire took stock of his surroundings. He was in a forest of some kind, filled with trees that bore scarlet leaves. The grass was a matching color, giving the whole place a macabre feel. He didn't like it.

A quick check of his locator told him nothing of use. His radio was somehow less helpful, spitting static at him when he tried to raise his squad. He looked up, seeing a column of smoke rising into the early-morning sky. Rationality told him that must be where Flak was. Maybe his transponder was working.

Not having many other options, Backfire pulled out his rifle and began to march toward the crash site. The walk was slow and steady, leaving the man with little to do but think. So, he filled his time with prayers.

"I am the tip of his spear," Backfire muttered, reciting an ancient mantra that hailed back to the old Conquest Wars of Signum Prioris when the Ascendant Empire was still known as the Arridian Empire. "I am the edge of his blade. I am the bulk of his shield. I am the armor about his fist. I am the flight of his arrows. I am the might of his armies. I am wrath. I am steel. I am doom. I am fire. I am death."

A rustling in the bushes before him drew his attention and he instantly dropped to one knee, pointing his rifle at the source of the noise. His fingers curled around the grip as the stock rested against his shoulder, a familiar presence that he welcomed gladly. Years of training, conditioning, and indoctrination. Decades of combat experience. All of it worked together in unison. All for this moment.

"I am the soldier keeping vigil at the end of time."


Gelan staggered through the forest, trying to get his bearings. The Heval-Arok, a Squire as the Empire called them, had not woken up well from his forced nap. His body ached, his equipment was acting strangely, and, worst of all, his superior had been killed. Gelan didn't recall how, the last thing he remembered was an enemy, a Harrow… what was their word? Female? Yes, that was it. A female Harrow had summoned forth some strange creature and blindsided him. From there, everything was blank.

That Harrow. That female. She must be Startouched. That was the only explanation for her capabilities. Arok weren't the most well-educated sub-species of the Heval, being the second lowest, only above Heval-Ruut. As such, he was not very well versed in what Harrows were fully capable of. But he had heard the stories and he had fought against them before. They were not supposed to be able to do that. Logically following, she must be Startouched. Or Aetherborn, as the Empire called them.

Gelan scowled a little at that word, producing a slight rumbling in his throat. It was clunky and barbaric, just like everything Harrow. It lacked the sophistication of Startouched. The gravitas. That the Harrows shackled those blessed souls instead of exalting them was laughable. Gelan almost pitied them.

Almost.

He wasn't exactly in a situation to feel pity at the moment. Limping, wounded, without support. He had initially sought to return to his vessel and take off into the sky. However, those plans were swiftly dashed when he realized that the accursed female was still there. And, what was worse, there were more of them! In his wounded state, Gelan did not know if her could kill four Harrows, even if they didn't have a Startouched among their ranks.

Unfortunately for Gelan, he was so wrapped up in his internal monologue that he failed to pay attention to his surroundings. His pained scrambling led him around a thicket and directly into a green-armored figure. Gelan stumbled, already panicking as the Imperial adjusted himself, his rifle already swinging toward Gelan. The Arok tried to dash back but, alas, his damaged limb could not support his weight. He collapsed under himself.

However, instead of his skull being shattered by a bolt of hardlight cutting through his brain, the soldier's shot went wide. It passed through the air where his head had been. It appeared the soldier was not expecting Gelan to fall as pathetically as he had.

Gelan didn't know if he felt good about that.

Not one to question his good fortune, he clawed at his belt and pulled off a magna grenade. Thumbing the activation as the soldier readjusted his aim, he flung it out. The small diamond-like explosive began to hum as energy surged through it. It slammed into the Harrow's helmet, instantly fusing with it. The soldier fell back in a panic as Gelan pulled himself back up and scurried off into the thicket. Glancing back, he saw the soldier tear off his helmet and fling it away. As it vanished into the undergrowth he dove away from it and covered his head.

Gelan turned away as he continued to run, hearing an explosion go off behind him. On second thought, chancing the Startouched and getting to his ship didn't seem like such a bad plan after all.


Luz set her shovel into the dirt, pressing it down as she wiped the sweat off her forehead. Beside her, Amity did the same. Truthfully, they could have used an Abomination to dig for them. But considering the circumstances, this felt more appropriate.

"It's ready." Behind her, Eda nodded and stepped forward, holding the body of the mysterious pilot in her arms. The man was heavy, though whether it was from the armor or his size was unknown. Regardless, Eda's Harpy form was able to bear the weight as she lowered him into the grave they had dug. At the head was a small stone, with a few words inscribed upon it.

Here lies Flak.

ISN-1114-53-8019

Beneath the writing was a small symbol, an insignia they found on his shoulder. A circle split into a Human skull and a graticule map. She didn't know what it meant, but it seemed important. She looked down at the grave, regretful of the fact that she couldn't help this man. He may have been a stranger, but he had saved Amity's life. That was something she could never repay.

"Thank you."

She looked up sharply at the sudden voice, drawing the attention of Amity and Eda. Ignoring their words, she looked around, trying to find the source of it. Before the two could push the matter, Raine emerged from the downed ship.

"Whatever this… thing is, it's not from the Isles," they reported, joining the others. "At least, I don't think so. Maybe Lilith can take a look at it when she gets back. She might know more."

Luz glanced around, still wondering where the voice had come from. She was about to reply to Raine when a distant explosion rocked the forest. The four instantly shifted, slipping into combat positions. That was when the shorter creature in dark armor from last night pushed its way out of the tree line. It took one look at the Witches and course-corrected, racing for its ship as fast as it could. What they weren't expecting was for another figure wrapped in similar armor to Flak to charge out behind the alien. The man shouted a few threats in that same indecipherable language and opened fire with his rifle. White bolts sprayed the side of the creature's ship as it clambered in. Once it was secure, the engines powered on and it lifted off. The man continued to shout, no doubt hurling obscenities and more threats as he fired, turning toward the Witches as he tracked the vessel.

The ship tore overhead, flying away into the sky. The man sighed, letting his rifle fall to his side as he caught his breath. Suddenly, his weapon shot back up into a ready position as he stared at the Witches.

"Who are you? Identify yourselves!"

"What is he saying?" Eda asked, moving between Luz and the soldier. He focused in on Eda, his expression quickly shifting to confusion. Before he could do anything rash, Raine intervened. A quick whistle from their lips and the man seized up. He swayed slightly before dropping to his knees.

"Is he… dead?" Luz asked.

"Just unconscious," Raine said. "But it won't last long. Let's get him out of here."


Aboard the Last Flight Home, Captain Blitz strode past his men with confidence in his gait. He knew that he needed to project an aura of certainty, lest his men feel doubt worm into their minds. He didn't suspect that any of them would break, such a thing would go against the very nature of every Revenant, but given the circumstances of their arrival, he figured that it was best to appear unshakeable. Dozens of soldiers marched in lockstep behind him. Their training made them resolute. It was in their blood. Blood that would likely soon be spilled.

Blitz entered the largest hangar, where the Hierarchy forces would land in the highest quantity. More soldiers were waiting for him, having already moved the few vehicles that remained operational out of the way. Emergency fortifications had been set up. Heavy weapons were in place. Clear lines of evacuation were ready. It was a textbook defense. Blitz couldn't have asked for better soldiers.

For better brothers.

"Here they come!" One of the soldiers beside him shouted, pointing at the landing craft as they closed the gap. A quick glance revealed the man's identity on his tactical display, but he didn't need it for this brother. Longbow, a talented marksman. He had his helmet on, but Blitz could picture the arrows tattooed on his temple. Blitz tried his hardest to get to know each of his subordinates. It was difficult, considering there were so many of them.

"Are you sure you should be at the front, sir?" Another soldier, Rewind, asked. Blitz offered a smile that couldn't be seen under his helmet.

"No place I'd rather be."

The first of the craft entered, its guns already swinging to rain burning matter down on the Imperials. A few men took aim at the craft and pulled the trigger of their weapons. They were not equipped with the standard hardlight rifle, but something with a much greater kick. Railguns began to hum as they glowed yellow, kinetic energy spooling up within them. After a half-second, they fired in unison. The first ship wasn't so much destroyed, as much as it stopped existing entirely.

The men let out a cheer, but it was a small victory. More ships began to flood the hangar. The railguns were forced to disperse, no longer able to focus fire and bring the ships down. However, they were able to cripple their guns, buying the Imperials a much-needed respite. The bay doors on the dropships began to open and the first wave of Hierarchy spilled out.

They were stout, gaunt creatures. While they bore many anatomical similarities to their cousins, Knaves were the lowest form of Hierarchy life. Their intelligence was just barely better than that of a wild animal and they were unable to use anything but the most rudimentary of melee weapons. But none of that mattered. They were fast, they were vicious, and, most importantly, they were numerous.

"Come and get some you hook-mouthed freaks!" A soldier equipped with a chaingun shouted. Blitz's tactical display marked him as Kobra. The snake-like detailing on his armor confirmed. The three sets of three barrels on the man's gun began to spin as he unleashed a barrage of hardlight bolts into the Knaves. Dozens, then hundreds were torn to shreds by concentrated gunfire. Yet, with each death, the Knaves drew closer to the Imperial line.

This was a standard tactic for the Hierarchy; deploy wave after wave of disposable cannon fodder to clog up enemy traps and waste their ammo, then send in the actually decent fighters. Blitz had expected this play. That was why he had a plan to deal with it.

"Everyone! Engage mag-locks!" He ordered. His men obeyed in an instant, their boots magnetically clamping to the floor. "Kilt! Disengage the barrier in the main hangar!" Each hangar came with a protective barrier that allowed ships to pass through while still shielding it from the cold vacuum of space outside. There was a brief flicker in the barrier before it faded.

The effect was instantaneous. The sudden difference in pressure caused the hordes of Knaves to be sucked out into the void. His men managed to stay in place, their mag-locks holding them down. One unlucky soldier had a few Knaves pounce on him right as the barrier fell. The man had landed on his back as he struggled with the aliens. All of them were sent hurtling into deep space. The Knaves were too stupid to comprehend the danger they were in and kept clawing at the soldier, with one eventually tearing out his throat. The man's panicked cries turned to a wet gargling sound as he spiraled into nothingness. Blood and flesh floated in the air, trailing behind him in a grisly display.

As quickly as it had begun, it ended. Kilt reengaged the barrier as the remaining ships fled, their passengers now dead. The first wave had been dealt with. But the next was not far behind.


Within the Owl House, Luz leaned over the bathroom sink. She studied her reflection closely, trying to look for anything out of place. After Raine had incapacitated their prisoner, they brought him back to the Owl House for interrogation. Once he woke up, that was. Currently, Luz was more concerned with the fact that she was hearing voices.

Hello? She thought, not expecting an answer. She stared at her reflection for a moment longer, waiting for a response. When it didn't come, she turned away. Then, her mind felt like it was being torn apart.

Luz fell back against the sink and clutched her skull. She tried to open her mouth and scream, only to find that nothing came out. Her mind flashed with images she couldn't understand and words she didn't know.

"You must listen." The voice returned, calm and commanding, with an aura that demanded loyalty and obedience. Luz couldn't focus on that, her mind reeling with images. She saw visions of crimson warriors with armor so sharp that it seemed to cut at reality. Guns that spat madness as a physical projectile and blades of spinning teeth. A colossal clawed hand stretched into the bleeding sky.

"He has found you," the voice continued. "You are in great danger."

"Who are you?" Luz managed to mumble. She looked back up at the mirror and, for but a brief moment, there was a second person. He towered over her, with short cropped brown hair and a beard that perfectly framed his face. Most striking of all were his eyes. They glowed green with power. His gaze was stern and imposing, but there was a small hint of something else within it. Perhaps something almost bordering on concern.

Luz glanced behind herself and saw nothing. Turning back to the mirror, the man was gone. Her mind lingered on the image of the red warriors as she wondered what the voice had sought to warn her of.


Lilith enjoyed the sensation of flying. Riding on a Palisman was one thing, but having wings of her own was a truly liberating feeling. The speed, the power, the exhilaration. It was all intoxicating.

She was currently stretching her wings, soaring through the skies of the Isles. She had been on a small archeological expedition to the ruins at the Knee. It wasn't anything official, more just a personal retreat. King had elected to accompany her, wishing to learn more about the history of both the Isles and his people. Hooty had also joined, nestled on her back. Now, after a few days away, they were set to return home.

At least, that was the initial plan. While they were en route, Lilith spotted a large clearing that hadn't been there when they had last passed through this area. A cursory aerial inspection revealed a large metallic object, but not much else. Lilith touched down beside the object and allowed King to climb off her back.

"Remarkable." She reached out to touch the object as her feathers slid back into her skin and her wings shrunk. The material felt like nothing she had ever encountered before, its texture foreign to her. Multiple pieces of the device had been opened, almost like doors. She peered into the hatch and was surprised to see something that resembled a seat. There were screens and switches all over the interior of the vessel, though she could not ascertain what their purpose might be.

"What do you think it is?" King asked, knocking on the side of the vessel. Lilith furiously scribbled down notes, trying to capture every detail.

"I have no idea," she admitted. "But I look forward to finding out." As she continued to jot down notes, Hooty perked up.

"New friends!" He shrieked happily, his grating voice piercing through the quiet forest. The House Demon lunged forward, plowing through the ground. Lilith and King both turned to watch him, curious as to what he had detected.

Hooty burst out of the ground just behind the treeline not far away. He violently rattled a tree. There was a surprised shout and someone fell from the branches. They were clad in green armor with light grey patterns of a skull and ribcage on the left side of his faceplate and chest. The man was quick to regain his footing, raising a strange weapon with six separate barrels.

"Whatever you are, stand down!"

"Hey, I can speak gibberish too," Hooty cooed, circling around the man. They pulled the trigger on their weapon. There was a roar, a flash, and a spray of pellets tore through the air. Hooty wove himself around the shot, letting the projectiles tear off a nearby branch. The House Demon swung the length of his mass into the man, sending him flying into a tree. He let out a groan, clearly in pain. Hooty moved over - likely to swallow him up - when a small cylinder clattered to the ground before him.

"Hey, a bug!" He quickly gobbled it down, smacking his beak as he savored it. There was the sound of an electrical detonation and bolts of lightning danced within him. Hooty's fur stood on end and he fell limply to the grass.

"Hootsifer!" Lilith ran forward, changing back to her Harpy mode. She stopped when she heard King let out a cry. Turning, she saw another man holding King hostage. He was armored similarly to his companion though he lacked a full hemet, instead opting for a rebreather that covered the lower half of his face. He was wrapped in a cloak that seemed to shimmer, preventing Lilith from focusing on it. His left eye, along with a significant portion of his surrounding face, had been replaced with mechanical augments. His right eye had a small, red oval around it. His skin was very close to Luz's, was he also Human? But if he was, why was he so large? The man held King up by his scruff, a knife to his throat.

"Vinda, get her!"

Lilith didn't have time to try to understand his words, as something slammed into the back of her head. Everything went dark as she dropped to the ground, already falling unconscious. King fought against his captor, trying to break free from his grasp. The man glanced down at him and held him at arm's length.

"What are you?"

"Maybe it's a pet," the other man said as he holstered his shotgun, having just used it to knock Lilith unconscious. "She strikes me as the type." He nudged Lilith with his foot. The cloaked man tapped his knife against the side of his chin as he studied King. His companion spoke up.

"We could just cut their throats and throw them into a ditch somewhere. The Captain did tell us to keep a low profile."

"If we do that, there's a chance others will ask questions."

While the two considered what to do, King unleashed a powerful sonic wave from his throat directly into the ground. He sent the two men staggering back. His captor relinquished his grip, his now freed hand already slipping down to his belt. King dropped to the ground as he prepared to attack again. Before he could, another of the cylinders that Hooty swallowed was flung at his feet by the cloaked man. It burst in a flash of electricity. The stun grenade overloaded King's nerves and he fell to the ground. As his vision began to fade, the men stepped closer, moving to secure their prisoners.

"Emperor's teeth! What was that?"

"No clue, but the Sergeant is gonna want to see them."


"Fall back to secondary positions!"

All of Blitz's men were quick to heed his orders. The next wave of Hierarchy soldiers had landed and were wise to the Imperial tricks. Hundreds of Squires, led by a few lesser Warriors, were quick to establish a beachhead within the hangar. Blitz fired off a few blasts from his pistol while his men retreated, cutting down a Squire with each shot. Once they left the hangar, they would have to switch to close-quarter weaponry. No gunfire would be allowed, a single stray shot could depressurize an entire section. Theoretically, the Hierarchy could just intentionally blow out the walls, but Blitz was counting on their glory-hungry commanders wanting to take his ship mostly intact.

A Warrior dove at the Captain, swinging a Phaeton sword through the air. The burning amber blade radiated with heat and Blitz barely managed to avoid the slash. It glanced off his shoulder, his shields sparking as they took the brunt of the blow. He retaliated by lashing out with his gauntlet. The Warrior nimbly dodged back before pouncing again. Blitz dodged the second strike, only for the Warrior to grab hold of his cape.

A thing to note about Imperial capes is that they are a sign of status. Officers will wear them as part of both their dress uniform and armor. They display the colors of both the Regiment and the Empire proudly. Fortunately for BLitz, they were also designed to be easily torn off.

When the Warrior tried to pull Blitz by his cape, the clasps at his shoulders disconnected, leaving the Warrior confused and Blitz with an opening. His Kinetic Gauntlet swung upward, plowing into the Warrior's chin. The second the weapon made contact, it unleashed a torrent of kinetic energy vastly disproportionate to how hard he had actually swung. The Warriors head exploded in a shower of viscera, coating Blitz's armor. He paid the corpse no mind, already withdrawing into the hallway. He slipped behind a few of his men and holstered his pistol. Once their captain was behind them, the soldiers activated their shield projectors, forming a shield wall between them and the Hierarchy.

Just as Blitz had predicted, the Hierarchy had also switched to melee. Phaeton blades slammed into hardlight shields, producing painful scratching sounds as they clashed. The Imperials readied themselves with trench maces and knives as the shield wall was pushed back. Torrent was the first to fall, a swipe at his unprotected knee catching him off guard. The man collapsed as his cauterized stump filled the corridor with the stench of burning flesh. The scent seemed to drive the Hierarchy onward. Blitz was the first into action, punching a Squire in the chest so hard that he exploded, coating the hall in blood and bone fragments. The lines quickly dissolved into chaos.

Beside him, Hail was stabbed through the throat by a Squire, only for the Squire to be skewered on bayonet. Meteor had his arms torn off by a Warrior who left the man to bleed out on the ground. More Hierarchy began to close around Blitz and his dwindling men. He clocked one in the head, causing their skull to burst open, only to realize too late that he had left himself open. Three more Hierarchy pounced on him with blades drawn. Seconds before the weapons made contact, a wall of invisible force rushed past Blitz. It felt like a fierce draft of wind, but such a thing was impossible on an airtight spaceship. The wall smashed into the Hierarchy and sent them flying. Glancing back, he saw Martyr Jaco striding through the lines, his eyes glowing with power.

Jaco raised a hand and the air obeyed, hardening into a platform that pushed the Hierarchy up. They crashed into the ceiling with a sickening crack the signified bones snapping. He let them drop back to the ground as another rushed forward, a blade in his hand and a roar on his mandibles. Jaco caught the swing in a bubble of condensed air, trapping the Hierarch's hand within it. A narrowing of his eyes was the only sign of what was next. The bubble contracted, crushing his hapless victim's hand into a mangled mess. The alien screamed in pain, only to be silenced by another soldier jamming a bayonet through its skull. Jaco turned to face the rest of the Hierarchy forces. Their resolve was shaken by the arrival of the Aetherborn, and they began to turn and flee as their superiors yelled at them to hold their position. A few particularly bloodthirsty Revenants gave chase as Blitz walked over to Jaco.

"Appreciate the assistance."

"The rest of the boarding parties had been dealt with, so I knew you would need me here."

Blitz raised an eyebrow. Imperial ships were large and their interiors were a winding maze of corridors and rooms. Even he needed a map to navigate certain areas. "You got here fast."

"I do not just command the wind, I run like it."

Blitz could have sworn he saw the ghost of a smirk on Jaco's face.


TheFranninator: Glad to hear. I was quite worried about putting something like this out there.