An Eminence? No, I am just a reaper

by Arathrox the everchosen

Fate is rather fickle, sometimes the stream of the river can be directed with just the touch of a feather and branches form leading to somewhere unknown. The world will never be the same as a man born out from the Shadows seeks out his porpuse through this new land. No matter how many he must kill to reach it..

65. Arc 3: Void victory, eternal hatred

Speech = ``...´´
Thoughts = [... ]

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[Continuation of chapter 12 (sins of the arrogant)]

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Soon, the atrocities of this deranged time will be nothing but a memory….that its what their leaders say through their crooked mouths while they rub their hands behind their backs with ambition, what generals hiding behind the lines tell over and over their weary and worn down soldiers, what priest chant and gospel at their followers.

But words will not save us.

Lies will not protect us.

And its their blind optimism that will destroy us.

In the spires and the slums, the people we protect speak of victory.

Victory, as the world crumbles to dust in a agonical death of its soul..

Victory, as the kingdoms burn and empires cave in around us in storms of blood and heathen fire..

Victory, as entire generations of all backgrounds and races rage against the failing of the life itself, their blood their meager transaction to slow down death for just one more day

Victory as the man they vilified now turned hero holds their hopes and dreams in his back

...

...

Ha…Victory.

(-Speech of the Dark Lord and master of mankind at the high of the Great war-)

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Death surrounded him…

It spoke to him, it called him, it wanted him with a passion only equal to the desires of an old lover…

And it was hard to image why.

The skies bled over him, stained by unspeakable malice and cruelty that raped the natural order of things and made a mockery of it in what laid behind.

The air was an overheated mess of flying beams of death and gunfire that created strays of light past through the air it in rapid succession as they tried to reach targets which he could not yet see.

The acrid stench of smoke coming out from a million corpses rotting in the ground smothered the sun in a thick, heavy blanket of darkness, one even stronger than the one that had previously been in its place...

Or perhaps it was the massive, terrific sight of a colossal flesh made battleship, the very same one that had ruled the skies for days and days on end during the siege, now laying inert in a massive crater behind him. Its thick hive and huge guns useless now as they had not been able to stop it from being mauled to death from the inside out.

Holes and fissures all over the ship, where flames and blood could still be seen slipping out from the cracks of its grotesque shape. But none more striking than the massive gash that had literally and metaphorically disemboweled the ship and which had probably killed it for good...as he had made his way out from it.

He closed his eyes, his body feeling heavy..

All was mixed with a heavy tone of iron and burnt out copper from the torrents of blood that drenched the soil and the magic hovering in the air that made bitter anything in their mouths, making the air all the more heavier than it already was.

It was a disheartening sight…, if he had been a lesser man he would have been grasping on his neck to pry a single, useful breath through crushed windpipes..or perhaps he would have fallen to his knees at the obnoxious and cathartic visage of destruction laid before him like a drawing that only the most sinful of souls could find its beauty.

But he was not a lesser man...

He clenched his jaw, bawling his hands into fists as he tried to march on...heedless of the way his body told him, wanted him, cried at him to stop!

The ground shuddered underneath him, even though it would have been hard to notice with the way his iron heels sunk deeply into it, not as a by product of the massive holes that had carved the soil like cake, leaving behind dusty craters…, it was not the rain that was peppering his armor without end or the hurricane like winds that blew and howled back and forth at his sides by the storm that had crashed above his head like a wrathful god, but rather the heavy, thick layers of arterial liquid that were easily reaching his played knees.

He was standing over an ocean of fresh spilled blood..

The fields that had been razed to the ground had become a quagmire of blood and mud that probably expanded for miles and miles around, where the bodies of the fallen or their piecces laid barely underneath the scarlet tides now that they were left limp and forgotten in these hectic times of hectic violence...

He tilted his head to the side, blood dripping down the broken ocular eyes of his helmet, staining the blackness of the obsidian like steel in the shape of bloody tears, ignoring the trail of corpses he had made as his eyes watched the ruckus that was even now poking inside his skull all the more stronger with each passing moment.

A pain that he was all too familiar now, like slowly pulling out with a violent yank a sack tightly tied around his neck, only that this time...the blurry, botched sounds made him hurt the more clearer they became..

He had not come out unscathed from his battle against those twelve dimensional tumors..

He knew better...

He should known better...

And yet he still watched…laying still like a statue of a dead god under the heavy storm that was even now, unable to wash away the blood which he had bathed himself in.

It never would...just like the sins he had committed.

The heaviness in his chest returned, stronger...

Slowly, yet steadily...he regarded with almost morbid fascination at the spectacle he had not been part of until just now.

The way the two tides were clashing against one another with so much violence.

One clad in regal black and steel or those shades of green and silver, chanting war-cries of courage or rage as they pounced on their foes. Each and every of those men and women a champion of their creed, a savior of their kin as they literally stepped onto the jaws of the beasts to slice their necks..

In the other side was the horde of abominable flesh like things that could never have been considered a full fleshed army as both eldritch creatures and their deluded mortal servants tried to steer away the never ending blood-lust of the black clad lions they had confused with prey from tearing them apart with their bare hands.

Cannons were fired from boxy constructs and towering giants of steel, their threads pushing the war-machines through the wasted fields above the scarlet swamp they trod, flattening the dead and living alike that were unfortunate enough to not avoid them in time as they blew up scores of men and creatures alike with each roaring detonation.

Missiles flew over the air in wide arcs, leaving traces of smoke behind before they violently detonated further away in storms of shrapnel and purifying fire, turning men into flying pieces of meat and constructs into ruined pieces of iron.

He heard the sound of dozen of eradicator hell cannons open fire on scores of men like they were shooting fish on a barrel, the barrels of their guns growing redder and hotter by the inability to stop firing.

He watched the massive moving battle stations that he had used for the defense of the city now trampled everyone in their path like the ants they were. The operator crews inside the colossal machines now no longer staying in the defense as they turned their walkers into massive and rapid moving battering rams. Carving massive swaps into the enemy ranks, or what was left of them in their wake as they burned or stomped to death the fools brave enough to stand before them.

Completely ignoring the storm of fire they drew into their direction, their plates and shielding still held, the rumbling of each shot of their God-banes batteries leaving crater after crater where living being had just existed a moment prior becoming the answer to the meager attempts to bring them down...

The disparity between the forces was clear to see…

For even if the tide of living flesh and aberrations of the never-born were still dwarfing the number of mortals that had drawn blades against them, he could see them being pushed back further and further.

With the lost of all but one of their leaders here, without the dominion to channel their powers, they were fragile.

Weak.

Vulnerable...

And they would be fools to let such chance go.

The only thing he regretted was that even if they won, this would not be the end of the nightmare they had found themselves in.

Victory...meant nothing.

Not today…, not yet.

Looking down at his bloodstained hands he watched his reflection on the dark liquid sliding down his blade. Pieces of flesh and brain matter clinging to it from their most recent victims, smearing its white form in a soiled and crude version of it..

He then watched to the side, regarding at the still living breathing demon he had not realized he had caught by the head until just a moment ago when the thing had tried to jump on him from the murky bloodstained waters, clearly having left for dead and searching for easier targets...

Bigger than the common man, the thing was nothing but pure raw muscle brought to its absolute limits by the energy the evil spirit was made of. But under his grasp all its power and exploits were rendered void when he closed his fist around it. Its skull exploding in a cascade of brain-matter and bone the same way one would when crushing an egg.

At times, he could barely understand what he was doing. In a sense, dazzled as he was now, he was going through the motions..

His body reacting to the world around it rather than him putting a strong thought to his acts.

The dizziness in his mind and the tiredness that had taken hold of his body had almost made him not taken notice of the massive breach on the lower end of his breast_plate.

The ancient layers of steel infused magic of ancient times unable to hold onto the punishment they had been pushed to time and time again, breaking down and finally caving in as a result once they could no longer maintain their form. Allowing for all to see the circle like hole that had carved its way into his insides.

A bitter wound, a hideous wound. One that would have cause dread and terror to even the mightiness of mortal champions to witness, let alone suffer in their own flesh. It was as if a massive blade or fist had lanced him through from one end to the other, making it clear for others to see what laid behind him if they squinted their eyes over the dripping blood slipping out from the now damaged vessel of his body...or the hanging entrails that were threatening to slip out.…

He was healing…, but wounds caused by gods took their time.

He crouched into a stance, his feet sinking into the muddy ground as energy started to sparkle around him, a dark mist starting to ooze out of his very being, shrouding him within their safety.

He had no time.

There was no more time...

The battle had turned into a chaotic mess that even he had difficulty grasping where it started, and where it ended. Ranks had broke down into groups, and then into squads. Every man was fighting for themselves with just one single goal in their minds.

To slaughter…

When the barrels of their assault cannons threatened to molt down under their unending, uninterrupted use or ran out of bullets they used their blades. When the blades became drenched brain matter and slick of blood they used their magic, when the sparks of ethereal power died out in shrieks of pain in the black covered skies they used rocks, and when the rocks broke down they used their fists...

Against the opportunistic souls of those craven like fools who had joined for power or had been cowed by fear to do it this was not a battle any more, there was no glory to be found in this clashing of blades, no honor to witness between the two clashing sides.

This was mechanized butchery…

And they had no say on it.

After a long tired breath, he finally found his target…or better yet, they had found him.

``BLOOD FOR THE DARK GODS….!´´

And with that the curtain fell as the bellowing cry of a faceless cultist from the wave like hordes of madmen that approached him in a mad daze to reach him almost from two miles away, running down a slope which was made out of corpses broke him out from his half dazed stupor.

The ache of old wounds mixing with new ones, making his fingers twitch for the future promise of carnage at the sight of souls offering themselves so freely and without care to him

Where men would have ran away in terror of his presence, these men merely sprinted even faster, pushing their bodies through the endless stream of blood under their feet to close in the distance between him and them.

He knew why…, for it was written in their faces.

They wanted his head..

They wanted to claim the honor to shed his blood for their uncaring masters...or for vane selfish glory.

To become immortal in the pages of history through one desperate and mindless bid.

Steam started to slip past the holes of his box and through the outside of his iron mask. The face underneath creasing with a stray of emotions that barely reflected on those glowing, unblinking eyes of his.

They were for a rude awakening...

With loathing as his shield and hatred as his sword he charged. Leaving shallow craters behind underneath his feet, a brief shock-wave tearing through the air as he turned himself into a three meters sized, blurred bolt of steel.

A hail of bullets and incantations welcomed him.

Disintegrating most when they came into contact with a dim glimmering bubble around him, ricocheting uselessly off his armor those which actually hit the heavy layers of plate that he bore, the poking of their attempts not even scratching the already dented and partially melted sheets of steel.

The incessant shower of lead and vile sorcery not slow him down, the rain of fire which he was hailed by those close enough to actually aim at him having the same effect to throw a pot of boiling water into the ocean.

The rest of the attacks were too ex-parse and too far away from their target to be considered an actual attack.

The fact that they could miss such a big target would have been surprising in itself, but he knew that the hordes of cultist were not exactly known for their battle acumen, aim...nor their sense of self preservation.

Not like he had any to speak of...

No, such meager attackers would not lay him down, but he would surely do them said favor as he continued to move forward.

It took him less than two seconds before he had closed the distance to the point that there were less than thirty steps between them, the group was massive….easily a thousand strong between common dregs and less for wear filth. And yet he only felt disappointment that so few were willing to throw themselves at him.

That did not halt him though, he did not even slow down to enter into a battle stance to fight them off like other mortals would much to their surprise and shock which soon turned into doubt as and second guessing when they started to realize that from the distance he had appeared a bit smaller to what they now lay their eyes on, clenching their jaws in vivid apprehension as for a brief moment a logical thought crossed their tainted minds.

But it was too late…

Before they drew another breath he had reached them, waltzing into their ranks like a hot knife through batter.

His massive form dwarfing all but the most deformed and mutated of their kin, but big or small, it didn't matter when his form collided with them. Their bodies cracking and exploding like wet-meat bags, blood, cartilage and flesh spilling out in all directions from each and every body unfortunate enough to be trampled over, tainting the mauled ashen purity of his carapace with a new living, fresh and bright shade of arterial red and brain matter.

Those at the front seeing the incoming fountains of blood trying to steer away from certain death, only for those that were behind them to push them ever forward into the meat grinder. Their corpses soon enough stomped under his iron heels into paste once nothing of their former self's remained when they too, shared the same fate as the others...

Those at the sides were thrown away by the sheer shock-waves caused by his speed which still rippled in the air like disturbances in water. Turning those closest to their points of origin into disembowel, faceless things. Their eyes still open wide to stare at the grim results of his work, dumbfounded at the massive breach of fresh open bodies at the center of their formation..and how they soon joined it.

Such sight drawing away the attention from his body, a lethal error, one that was understandable, even predicted as he now would punish brutally and without mercy as he brandished his blade up, magic crackling up his arm and then into the entirety of the blades length before he started to cut...!

A brutal endeavor…, without grace or care for appearances.

Just raw practicality at hand.

One that he enjoyed as entire scores of men disappeared in an instant. Their cries snuffed out of existence, their throats not able to even scream in pain as their souls were shattered even before their bodies were torn to shreds.

Those that faced him not able to even been given the chance to offer proper resistance at the storm that he brought alongside him as he merely swept them aside.

He leapt over a pile of corpses, snapping a shot with the mountain cannon attached to his left arm, turning men and monsters alike into bloody messes as the rocket like projectiles exploded from within, using the boxy machine a second later as a bat to swap away a missile sent towards him. The thing flying away, exploding in the faces of cultist and madmen alike, huge clouds of dust bellowed, the ground shook, yet they were unable to hide the carnage they had created.

Absolution, the blessed god killing weapon howled in his hands. And so he lifted it above his head, howling in rage at the bleeding skies of the war torn world, before he was answered in kind by the howling frothing of bersekers all around him.

More shells whined all around him.

More blades slammed, poked and scratched at his battle plate with all the power their wielders could muster.

More spells blasted and scorched the edges of the battle-armor, joining the rest of the engraved scars from other more powerful foes which had fail to fell him.

More blood was ever spilled in this altar of violence...

But he stood untouched.

He would not die today, especially not to this waste of air...

``DEATH IS UPON YOU, FILTH…...! LOOK UPON ME AND DESPAIR….!´´

He roared as he dived ever forward.

Never stopping…

Never doubting

Finding release from his pain in the carnage that he brought as their souls were turned into mortar and their deaths fueled his drive like coal thrown into a burning furnace.

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The numbers blinked before his eyes, the ancient wording of the death digital counter superimposed psychically in his field of vision incremented quickly as it tried to keep pace with the tally he brought. Burning and poking at nerves already raw and synapses that should have already been overcome with the never ending tide of changes and thoughts connected to the deepest depths of his mind.

The archaic devise having been a wayward gift left behind by the former schemes of the previous owner of his armor.

Himself…and yet not quite so, a different pair of eyes, another time, another doomed crusade. And though there were little uses to be found in its use, he had not throw it away...

Was it out of respect of the others decision..? Practicality..? Here and now it didn't matter. He would use any tool that he could make use at his disposal.

And, fortunate enough, he had still a long way to go to reach his personal best.

Absolution lashed out, its sharp teeth biting into harden, malefic magic, spraying sparks in all directions when it came into contact with the fickle bubble of energy surrounding the bodies of those depraved cultist that bore living, moaning flesh with the faces of their victims as their shields. Their protection buckling and bursting into nothingness, before half a second later they too were eradicated when the blade cut through from stomachs to sternums.

Swiping his hand left and right, his fist pulverizing skulls, turning chests into mush, his blade killing with every blow.

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Men roared and howled through weary throats, only to be deafened by his own brutish war cry that sweep them all away like dust in the wind. Revealing in the crunch of bone and the sprays of blood.

The leader of another pack bellowed orders among his peers, its jaw clenched with both fury and dread alike as he frothed at his men to charge!

But it was too late, for he was among them.

Slapping the mans of his shoulders the same way one would sway a mosquito. The bones of his skull turned into massive pieces of shrapnel at the snap of his fingers, increasing the pebble like things into a household like size.

He rose his hand into the air, lighting descending from the heavens and striking at his waiting fist. Coating his form in a stream of cold, blue electric light that only seemed to imply the sense of dread of anyone around him as the air became over heated with warnings of imminent immolation..

A warning that became prophetic when he slammed his clenched fist into the swamp like waters underneath him a second later. The ocean of blood which they had been standing until them solidifitying and turning into and endless sea of razor sharp spikes that rose in search of any living being in their near vicinity.

They had no time to scream, they had no time to blink as the very blood they had spilled from either themselves or their foes was now used to lance them through like pigs. Men and women tore apart as their bodies were assailed from myriad of directions. Blood turned glass puncturing through steel, flesh and bone like a child would tear through wet paper.

By the time his eyes blinked and the electricity in the air died out, the only thing that remained of them was their bodies hanging limply up in the air by the very things that had impaled them.

Turning them into flesh like scarecrows, their blood soon slicking the very shards that held them in place.

Those who died in an instant were the lucky ones…, those who did not were left to hang, gurgling their final breaths through blood clogged throats and pierced lungs as they hold onto the things that had gave them death. Fingers or claws grasping and trying to pull themselves out from the spikes, only for more to grow and pierce their hands and arms in the process.

Sadly, he had no much time to witness his work as blurry shadows hovered above him, the distinct sound of flapping wings foretelling the nature of his aggressors before the sick, yellowish glow of their eyes could come into view..

Like the parody of the avenging sons of a noble entity at the sight of unending murder, they descended from the hellish heavens and slammed into the ground with all the power they forms could muster.

Massive creatures born from the darkness recesses of madness in mans strangest dreams screamed in heathen languages known to none but their own a thousand lies and promises of pain, their bodies set ablaze with flames that would never end, only diminished by the abhorrent glow of runes carved to crudely into the shards of steel they bore for arms, stinking of curses and wailing souls.

Foul claws and teeth bit and scratched against him, steel shrieked and cried out as nether like energy's tried to flow through its dead carapace with each pounce of never-born meat throwing itself at him..

He could sense their anger…

He could smell their lust for a glorious foe…

He could see the way their teeth clicked in their throats, how their bodies stiffed as veins pumped their vile blood through their earthly vessels in what could only be considered as nervousness or excitement as if they were not going to be in the fight of their lives.

Because that was what they were, what they had been made for.., the sole meaning of the existence.

And an unlike mortals who would fight against those dark wishes and desires that existed in the depths of their hearts for the sake of others, the never-born were never so prudish.

In a sick, twisted, horrifying way...it was kind of them to enjoy themselves in doing what their hearts desired.

``In the name of the Destroyer we will claim your skull for-´´

He silenced the speaker with the rumbling blast of the dual hand cannon strapped to his right wrist, its head exploding in a fountain of gore and bone, the echo of the detonation the ringing the dinner bell for the rest as they lunged forward. All at once, in perfect synchronicity at him.

Their bodies twisting and contorting as they pulled themselves away from harms way from his opening strikes, their wings making them gain or give ground in the time it took a breath. Their attacks always finding their target, sparks and flames licking the spots they touched, even though the damage they incurred was minimal.

And yet, they still fared no better than the mortal mongrels, worst even as the absolution glowed brighter in the presence of evil. Its mere radiance already scorching their bodies,

the effects multiplying by a tenfold when with a horizontal swing, stomping on the ground as he redirected the edge of his sword in the opposite direction it was supposed to go cleaved them all in half.

Their grotesque expressions locked into a bafflement look before they turned into ashen smoke as they came to realize that his missed strikes had not been such thing, that they had all been meant to study them for just a brief seconds before corralling them into a position that most suited him.

Like dumb animals, herded to their slaughter...

He threw his blade away like a javelin, impaling countless others in rapid succession, yet its form did not end up disappearing in a straight line as one would have thought. The massive slot of white death moving left and right after a few seconds of flying, its primitive sentience pulling the strings from the living weapon as it realized that its owner no longer was holding it.

He turned around, the white, blood smeared cape hovering behind him as he regarded the endless sea of eyes who looked at him with a little more respect.

He clenched his fists, ice and black flames wrapping his hands in their essence. The energy cycling in a tight loop from his forearm to the edge of his clawed talons.

Building up, growing thicker….until his arms were completely obscured by the nebulous cloud of magic still emanating from him.

He took a step forward, tilting his head to the side, then the other. Closing his eyes for a moment, huffing tired, the humid air slipping through the box of the mouthpiece, yet invisible to anyone but him.

He could feel the way the raindrops fell from time to time into the open, cracked eye lenses of his helmet and slid down the skin below. Sliding through over his cheeks like unshod tears...

His dry lips pursed as they felt it caressed the flesh.

It was cold.

Unbearably cold.

Like the ghastly touch of a soul from the far beyond instead of a meager droplet of water. Something that should have been impossible with the ashes of the dead that smothered the sun, a sight that would not change any time soon...

It seemed to forbore doom, but for who? His? Or theirs..?

He shook his head, vehemently this time as he balled his hands into a fist.

No! There was no time nor need to ponder about every insignificant detail that presented itself to him like the gossip of the dead as they may their way into the nether. He would not allow such weakness to take root.

He could not...

And so he did not, stretching one of his arms below his waist, clawed hands closing and opening time and time again until they grasped one of the still hanging entrails from the still open wound in his lower body. Clenching his teeth as he pulled the greasy, slimy cords of flesh out with an abrupt yank, holding them between his fingers as he watched the way it charred and turned into dust.

Finally reaping away the tainted meat from his system so that his body could finally start to heal as it should, without the need to fight the stubbornly painful Divine energy which continued to cling unto the open wound.

Flesh and bone finally starting to grow and fill the gaps that the wound had left behind.

``What are you waiting.., filth!? Show me what passes for wrath in your misbegotten kin..!´´

His answer did not came in the form of a rallying cry from weary throats and fearful souls, but in the thundering blasts of dozens of eradicator tanks and heavy artillery batteries opening fire at him.

Shell after shell soaring through the air in blazing glory, their passing sending shock-waves everywhere they neared as the explosive and penetrative salvos dispensed death once they found their mark.

A task which received the aid of any trooper who held between their grasp any gun or grenade to throw at him. Joining and increasing even further the storm of dust and bullets from which he was being fired with.

Ironically, even as watchful as he had been...he too had been deceived, if only momentarily by the heat of the moment from the trap he had wandered onto.

The mountains of bodies he had laid waste all in his bloody path having proved a rather effective bait to led him into this kill-zone the madmen had made in their haste. And one in which they would spend each and every tool at their disposal to put him down..!

He stood still for only a handful of moments, before he rose a hand in an effort to block and shield his head from it all. Feeling the rain not buckle as it scratched, poked and pounced at him from every direction, his eyes trying to peer through the incoming hail, only for the dust emanating from the whole mess to cloud his sights.

He tried to take a step forward, only for his feet to stagger when a shell seven times the size of his entire being slammed against his chest, right through the open cavity on his armor. Sending, much to his dismay shrapnel and smoke right into his insides when it undoubtedly detonated.

Which not lethal, or necessarily painful..were annoying to regard.

The attacks continued for fifty more seconds…

Turning the entire landscape around him in a dust, flames and poisonous fumes exuding all over the area, turning the mud-hole into a cathartic hell with each fiery detonation.

Once the dust cleared and what laid behind was shown a particular sight that none of them had thought possible in this life, or the next as their eyes watched with both fascination, dread, and apprehension the sight of their iron clad target.

Still alive, still intact...

Keeling where he had last been saw, a shimmer of light wrapped around him, slowly dimming around his body as if it realized that no more attacks were attempted on him.

Then he rose, slowly, the gears of his body not having any haste to raise his form even at the knowledge that he was surrounded and all of those barrels were still labeled at him.

Allowing all who could see the damage they had caused onto the carapace, or in this case, the lack of thereof…

The bullets and grenades had done next to nothing, failing to scorch and damage anything other what little remained of the cape that had clung to his back so faithfully until then. The much heavier equipment had managed to leave shallow impact craters in several places where they had directly collided, which still smoked and glowed with residual heat.

A continued bombardment of those weapons for at least four hours could have managed to damage his armor. It had managed to shove him around after all, but he doubted they would have either the time or ammunition to carry such titanic endeavor.

``A clever trick, but it is spent…!´´

He growled at last, the words coming out slowly, as if pushed through the licking flames of a massive furnace. His teeth clicking and grinding as he did, seemingly drinking the dust still hovering around him or the pain that clung to his soul, finding the taste sour and vile...

He took another step forward.., while they all took a step back, but if they thought he would continue to speak, they would be disappointed for no more words came through the cold filters of the iron mask.

The stupor of those around him started to weaken, adrenaline starting to quick-in and pushing away the terror freezing their blood. They rose their weapons at him, trailing their sights at his towering form, but even before they could pull again the triggers his hands had already been in motion.

Arms stretched forward, moving through the air from either side until they collided with one another in one, thunderous clap.

The moments the blacken side of his palms touched against one another a wave of frost and onyx flames spurted out from him in a complete, circular motion. The stench of silver burned their throats while the air grew heavier to breath as the energy that had been cycling non-stop in his arms now freed from its shackles. The invisible fields keeping it contained bursting open like bubbles as the pressure from withing their now weaken threads was too much for them to bear.

Then mayhem ensued as the first sparks slipped from his fingers.

For a moment, things felt like slow motion even though he knew such thing was not happening, but rather the contrary, as his mind was still trying to accept the massive change in the scenery.

He watched the emotions on each and every man standing before him, he could gaze at the way the muscles of their faces flared with life, slowly, yet ever growing terror. He watched how their bodies tried to react, how their lips parted ways, those who still had them anyways, but no sound left through them, he would never hear what they had to say..

He closed his eyes…

When the opened them again, nothing was the same.

He was standing, alone in a crater of ice and glass as the ground around him had melted or froze in a heartbeat. Brittle materials under his iron heels, cracking and breaking into small little shards no matter what he did. Sometimes, even originating from shards of glass or ice that vaguely resembled a living being.

The rain had stopped too, he no longer felt the way the water trickled down his form, but rather, he was welcomed with the sight of snow softly falling around him. The skies, bleeding as they were, clouded by smoke fatten by the death of a million living beings were, for once cleared from the violence of the battlefield.

Allowing a dying sun to shed its light over the corpse filled fields.

The spell had consumed and devoured anything and anyone in its path.

Tanks melted and blew up in fiery explosions as the ammunition still lingering inside them or around them ignited. Creating a never ending cascade of consecutive explosions that did not seem would end any time soon.

The fate of its occupants was surely a grim one, though not as brutal and unfortunate compared with the infantry that had stranded outside the protective layers of steel of the tanks.

Their bodies having either being turned into puddles of icy flesh, still molting arterial goo...or torn to shreds, yet still conscious enough to feel it all when the two spells collided with the same target, dulling their effects, yet barely showing any mercy at the affected bodies of their victims.

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The numbers continued to increase.., the red digits clawing at the back of his skull as they tried to draw his attention away from the graveyard of ice and still flickering flames he had just created.

They failed.

Not as a result of the massacre that he had unleashed, for he was not weak of heart.

Not at the weariness that seemed to carve and worm its way inside the cracks of his armor and wrap itself tightly onto his very core.

But rather for a different reason all together.., something more mundane, and yet...so much more precious.

It was for once, in the entire siege…., silent

He couldn't hear the sound of the dead and the dying …

He could not hear the sound of gunfire searing through the air nor see the strays of light from mounted cannons and spells illuminate the field.

He could not hear the sound of the wind blowing and bellowing at him or the ground shudder.

Everything was...silent.

And it was the sweetest thing he had ever felt….

He almost felt disarmed by it, weaken by it as his mind tried to whisper into his ears a terrible question.

How long had it been since he had been given some peace of mind...?

…

…

He stared down at the frail form of a snowflake that had landed on the empty palm of his hand. The frail little thing bearing a purity unmatched that had no right to exist, let alone remain unblemished as it was in his blood stained hands.

Even though, it was slowly starting to melt by the residual heat slipping out of his own core. The water that came out of it still remained...much to his surprise, untainted.

He closed his eyes as he closed his fist, taking a deep breath.

Too long…

It had been too long

He shook his head, hoping to push away the turmoil in his mind as he set himself to walk out of the crater, one step at a time, long strides pulling him forward faster rather than slower, not wanting such things to linger in his chest.

It hurt…

It hurt more than the already open wound left there for all to see…

So why...why was he still staring at the falling snowflakes as they started to fall around him more copiously..?

..

…

Another moment of weakness rang through him as he found himself stopping just as he was about to leave the edge of the crater, stretching his hand forward, dark clawed talons carving the air as they tried to grasp onto another of the cold, white spots of snow that softly descended onto the soil.

Though his face remained obscured from view by the cruel visage of the iron mask of his helmet, his eyes fared no such luck.

Glinting with a dimming light, as pain resurfaced from the depths of his memories. The snow having sparked something deeply inside of him.

That day…

The moment everything changed, the curse of his fate started to take effect...

It had been snowing when it happened.

…

...

That was as far as he would be able to go in his mussing for it was then that his attention was switched away from those misery ridden thoughts and the cold touches of the past still too alive for him to bury properly died out as the silence he had fallen in love with came to an abrupt, brutal end.

The brief peace he had been able to enjoy, disrupted by the roaring sound of a massive engine pushing an even more colossal tank into the field, making its way through the broken remnants of its lesser kin and the corpses of their support units like nothing as it barreled down on to him with nefarious intent.

Battered, mauled and clearly damaged beyond repair by the sight of its non existent gun barrel, the thing had suffered almost catastrophic damage, it should have been destroyed, in a sense it had been...now turned into a glorified transport. The heavy plating of its form having kept it from being completely pulverized into junk like the rest.

It was Bane-lord battle tank..an amalgamation of steel, spikes and tentacles, product of madmen who had decided to pile down a bunch of things onto a slot of steel. Huge on its own, he barely reached the quarter of the size of one of the spinning wheels that was part of its chassis.

And now, in a last bid of despair or vengeance for the damage incurred into its frame or allies was using its sheer force of mass and powerful treads to crush him like an ant as it slammed against him.

By all means, in normal circumstances it should have worked…..

But even before it hit him, a glowing bubble came to life, wrapping on his body, surrounding him…. and slowing down the brunt of the blow into a brief, playful halt. Allowing him for his pathetically small hands compared to the massive hunk piece of steel to stretch forward and claw the blackened iron and frosty steel

The sturdy material bending and breaking against his ministrations like plastic as he tightened his grip over it.

Talons sawed through metal, clacked with each other and then, with an effortless yank, he pulled the entire thing up.

Raising the entire battle tank above his head the same way a child would raise a toy and try to emulate as if they could fly. Its mighty threads rotating and shrieking uselessly in the air, like a turtle that had found itself laying on its own shell.

Crude, ugly and vile as the machine was..., the thought that they could just flatten him into the ground for a moment must have been appealing to its occupants, but it almost made him laugh. The thought of tossing it into the sun did cross his mind, but when he reached the top of the crater and his eyes gazed at the small tide of souls moving towards him..a devious thought came into light.

ºº

ºº

The once known fields of the empire trembled. The vast layers of now blood drenched land becoming the stage of a desperate struggle between two forces from both local and foreign worlds.

Barrabass the Greenhorn charged down a man made valley which was more akin to a crater than anything else, trying to avoid his bulky, bloated form from falling down given the slippery of the soil he now walked on and down into the ruined forms of still burning battle tanks and buildings that had once been bunkers. Every capable of steps halting his march, trying to discern under the heavy rain that blurred his senses who was friend from foe.

Non existent eyes that had melted long ago, yet never truly robbing him of his sight looked to his left and right while he held his large and trusted rusted axe. Allowing the forms of those of his own banner-men or the never-born to take the lead as they moved past him.

Oh the first, second and third time he did nothing happened, but at the fourth a reign of cracking, cascading machine gun fire. Barely managing to take a step back, raising one of his pauldrons to cover himself even though most shots were not aimed at him.

He didn't feel pain when he sensed the discharge slam into his shoulder, though perhaps it had to do with the way that no sound of dented metal or shrieking sparks emanated from the attack, but black ooze from the fist sized crater impacts. His armor now part of his body, flesh and bone alike having wrap around every nook and cranny of his body.

The layers of green and grime pulsating around him with a life of their own, moving and breathing and exuding spores to bring new life into the universe. And though his form was mostly covered, there were spots where what laid inside could be seen.

Like the broken mouthpiece of his helmet that allowed for a massive, pale, snake like tongue to fall out down his chest plate now that his lower jaw had fallen out long ago. His left leg had become chubby and gross, breaking the steel and iron and become fused with it, necrotic flesh filled with blisters and boils that grew and multiplied, the colorless layers of skin allowed others to see from the eggs that were to hatch from them.

A gift of his patron god.

One he was out mostly grateful for, after all, if life had taught him one thing was that it was painful. It was overfilled with dark tones and tragedies, always coming one after the other leaving one no time for respite or joy or anything else...

He lowered his pauldron, his empty eye sockets squinting as they caught sight of his foes who either through skill or vile sorcery had managed to cover their presence so well. Just like he expected, they were those damned black knights. Clad in heavy layers of onyx armor and machinery that most mortals could not hope to imagine.

The volume of fire their weapons sprung ever so accurate and deadly. Already he could see the first two swats of those that had marched past him cut down by the heavy volley of fire. Their armors cracking and giving in like cans been squashed, bodies blowing up in glorious cascades of scarlet liquid.

And where the pouncing force of bullets could not finish the job, the black edge of their obsidian blades certainly did. Dispatching all those near them with mechanical efficiency.

But he did not care for such things.

He tilted his head to the side, raising his axe above his head before he swing at the air in-front of him.

``To the slaughter my kin, move up, move up..!´´

He ordered to his men, to those under his banner or the cultist of the other war-bands that had decided to tag along to charge in at the now visible silhouettes of their silent oppressors.

The meat-shields in-front, followed by the heavy infantry compassed by either his fellow brothers in the covenant or the children of his masters design. Tanks rolling down the slopes and covering their flanks as they yielded to his march their entire fire support onto the forces that laid waiting far, far further away.

In fact, he managed to see the way their combine fire power made the already faltering shield of a massive walker like machine shatter under the rain of shells, fires erupting from its massive shell like form when, seemingly by happenstance, one of the tanks shells managed to hit a small munitions connector.

Cheers and cries of joy erupted all over the line at the sight of the towering machine slowly limping away from the front line. Like a beaten dog as fires started to spread out over its form.

Its crew clearly not wanting to put it at more risk than it already was, and though it was not a confirmed kill. Putting the thing out of commission was increasing their chances on turning the tables rather spectacularly.

However, his attention fell over those who carried missile launchers over their shoulders and the mortar teams. The ones that would soon zoom out the positions of the enemy with their firepower.

Yes, he was no brainless brute. He was no a walking dreg who had cast down reason for power. He was a knight of the empire. One that had failed him twice. First failing to stay as the strongest nation this blasted world had ever seen with their cut throat policies and backstabbing games and the second time when those fools had put down their faith in the one that had tried to destroy everything the empire meant.

The great father in the depths of the inmaterium had been a far kinder and simpler master to follow. For there was no treachery to be found in his embrace.

If only his fellow brothers could have seen the beauty of it…he would not have had to kill them and turn their souls into mortar to pay for his ascension.

The memory bringing forth a subtle pang of pain, though one that quickly dismissed as he counted down their retaliation with his fingers, making a fist and pulling in his arm with a jerk when it was time.

The mortars were the first to fire, unloading their spiraling projectiles into the void in a loud whistle like sound.

But just as they did, four massive warriors swung down from the skies above them. Their massive bodies billowing the smoke trails left behind by the mortars.

The servant of the gods had only a moment to see them.

Raptors…

Whether by magic, technology or both..these men had been given the ability to fly in wings of steel and burning fuel. Their given shape trying to mimic the wings of birds albeit metallic and with far less grace, they seem to give those attached to those contractions the appearance of birds of prey.

And they used it to storm at everywhere they pleased with ruthlessness and brutal efficiency, showing in ample spades their status as skillful veterans.

Each one holding a sparkling, spiked maze while the other hands held a small like pistol between their plated fingers. Firing four shots each of their guns, finding their mark with ease, their targets in the form of the mortar team unprepared an unable to walk away before the rest were pulverized into thin smoke by the sheer mass of those mazes.

``Halberds, now..´´

He yelled to no one in particular, his voice drowned under the thundering echoes of the Raptors smashing now the missile wielding troopers into paste. And though one managed to get a shot and land on the group, with the following cloud of dust he did not know whether it was a confirm kill.

Nor he would have the time to do so as he soon found himself having to dodge and block the pulverizing swing of one of those mortal brutes when it came by swinging through the smoke.

The enhanced weapons of the hulking humans tore through the air like lightning, the magical enhanced tools of war turning the air into electrifying glass as it searched for his head. It did not, but it did not mean it did not collided with whatever o whoever was too slow to move out of the way as bodies turned into red mist.

He answered in kind, trying to cleave him in two with the trusted edge of his corrupted weapons. The touch of the rusted steel finding its mark onto the unblemished black steel, sparks and grime splashing onto their heathen pure armor, though doing not much else..

He landed another, then another.., but apart from the sparkling show of steel colliding violently against one another and the show of dents been left behind there was nothing to show that it had been breached.

It was too THICK...!

A common cultist could not fight these monsters, but the likes of him could, albeit..a bit poorly.

However his thoughts came into a swift end when he was tackled by another of those Raptors, One that had not been part of the first group, but another that had flew by and joined the chaos. Throwing him off balance and into the muddy soil, a quarter of his body sinking under it before he managed to realize where he was.

And when he did a fist slammed into his face. Then another, again and again until the helmet cracked and fell apart over his head. Exposing the root that had taken over his body and mangled his former features. Leaving nothing but a pale, almost skinless skull where maggots had taken the shape of his hair while his empty sockets sparkled with plagues brewing in their insides.

A hideous sight for the unworthy...and as powerful as these warriors were, they too were affected by this terror tactic like any other.

And there it was, that momentarily lapse of surprise or just down right disgust corroding inside the mans head. But just as he did, Barrabas acted! Pushing his tongue into motion and thrust itself forward! The long, snake like appendage attached to his skull now wrapping around the warriors not as protected neck and stopping him from continuing to cave his skull into the ground.

The act surprised the man underneath the heavy plates of armor, the humming of fire crackling on his skull foretelling that the wings had ignited again, a suspicion that turned prophetic when the two of them were sent flying up into the coal like skies, with him barely holding onto thanks to his tongue still wrapped around the mortals neck.

The world was a mass of blurry shadows and bitter tears rupturing in molten ashes made from ashes, the constant strays of fire and magic made everything in between taste of iron, though one he had no time to waste gazing at as he tried to fight the warriors attempt to free itself from his grip.

Grime and rust already starting to lick the spots where his corrupted flesh was touching, slowly at first, but its growth continued unimpeded.

The warrior rose one of his fist and drove it down Barrabas skull, his now exposed and bruised face unable to keep its integrity as the upper section of his jaw fractured and cave in like a twig. Black steel tearing through steel like teeth and into his throat, punching flesh, tissue and bone down the knights gullet, black ooze spilling out into the already blacken carapace as a result.

A painful wound to be sure, but not one that would stop him, nor he would allow to go unpunished.

Using the opportunity that both the knights arms were in either punching him or strangling him to death, Barrabas empty hands now stretching to pick up a serrated knife and plunging it into the open connector between the warriors shoulder and main battle plate, the weapon cutting deeply into the suit underneath. His hands clutching the blade tightly as he pulled it out and lanced it down again and again into the same wound, making it bigger, worse so that the curse could take the man.

So that he may see the light he had saw long ago.

He felt his throat bulge and then shrink down to the size of a straw when those black plated fingers started to exert their pressure in all their glory. Even as rot started to spread over the metal of his fingers and right into his forearm, the warrior did not seem to care as the man pulled out his arm from his throat with a violent yank and used it to aid the other in snapping the plagued Knight.

The effort proving rather effective with how it was turning metal and flesh into butter with the way the entire thing started to bend inwards with such ease.

For a moment he felt doubt cross his mind, it was as if the man was trying to rip his head out by rather than strangling him as he had first thought.

Truly, these brutes were as crude as they were dangerous! But as strong as they were, they could not win, his assailant had to know this and he was more than ready to prove it to him!

And so he did.

Raising his blade again, this time hoping to strike at his neck, but when he did his hand fell short as a black gauntlet held it in the air, uselessly.

He would have blinked if he could when he found his strength waning against the sheer power of the warriors grip who in an instant did not push his thrust away, but crushed his wrist alongside his own plate-armor, picking the blade in mid air and slicing his tongue all in the spam of five seconds.

The act freeing the monster from his grasp, and leaving the plague Knight into gravity's own malicious claws instead.

It was a short travel, and though he felt no pain, there was nothing to like about falling down several dozen meters in a straight line into the ground.

He slowly tried to raise from the muddy hole he was almost sinking into, brushing a hand over his flesh-less head in an attempt to pour out the mud that had gotten inside his skull. Something that he did not need to do, given that he could see just fine, but it was out of habit.

He tilted his head to the side, trying to get a glimpse of where the Raptor could be.

He would not have to look far when a heavy boot of steel slammed into his chest, throwing him into the ground with all the motion it could carry.

It literally knocked the air out of him., and all the things that lurked inside his flesh and bones.

The hulking knight stumped one of his feet into Barrabas chest, the metal cringing and crying in protest as it started to give in under the pressure. But the real danger appeared when he managed to spot that the Knight had retrieved its maze, clutching its handle between his fingers, he started to raise it above his head.

He tried to push him away, but the only thing he managed was to sink even deeper into the mud.

``Damn you soulless thing! It wont end like this...! It cant...! IT CANT...!

He screamed, raging in frustration, the destruction of part of his skull not deterring him in the slightest in his time of need to make use of his wasted vocal cords at the indifference of the ma-no, machine that was killing him!

And just like that, as if heard by a voice from the other side, before the towering foe could swung down the maze one of Barrabas men unloaded a missile onto its exposed chest..! The warrior thrown back by the force of it as it impacted and then exploded in violent fashion.

Smoke, dust and shards of steel flying in all directions.

In that moment of clarity his eyes managed to find the other Raptors, their eye lenses glowing with a malevolent light that could only bear hatred at his direction as the smoke spilled back in, surrounding their bodies from his sight.

He rose from the ground just as the winds pick up their slack and blew away the smoke, revealing that his assailant, much to his surprise was still alive. Slowly bleeding, his armor breached in a small section of his abdomen...but not blown up into smithereens like he had expected.

Picking up another axe from his sheath, he readied himself to fight against the now wounded warrior, but the sound of feet approaching and weapons being brandished told him that it was not needed when dozens of heavy plated halberdiers came into the fray. Swinging wildly and with fervor as they began to weave and battle against the heathen intruders.

This did not dissuade those men as they subjected themselves to pulverize these new annoyance as-well. The sound of broken bones and bent steel soon reaching him.

But it did not matter.

Nine dozen dueled twenty, a number that continued to grow in disparity by the second as more and more of his kin joined the fray. Pushing them back meter by meter, using the reach of their weapons to thrust and lance at them, against the crude yet effective masses that hit like battering rams..

But even though they were making quick work of those meant to placate them, he was already ready for it.

``FIRE...!´´

He yelled, grenades and missiles being lobbed up towards the melee oriented warriors. Uncaring of the casualties they would bring to his own men as a result as an entire squadron unloaded their dangerous cargo onto the small cluster of forces.

As expected, before they could be turned into smothering pieces of junk the Raptors flew away with those machines attached to their bags carrying them way when the situation turned disastrous to held any longer.

Yielding their ground and flying away like the cowards that they were.

More missiles were fired at their retreating forms, this time followed by the trail of gun fire of those believing to be capable enough to shoot them down, but he could not see well whether they landed on the target or not with the strong winds blowing against them.

Looking at the pulverized forms of his heavy support did not filled him with despair, for this was not the first time they had done such thing. Case in point the fact that more of his men came around with more of the same equipment the Raptors had just stormed and left useless with their brutal attack.

There was always more…

Quantity was a quality of its own...and it was one he LOVED.

Not wasting any more time he then took a hefty amount of his forces to pursue the enemy that were ON the ground and would not be able to hide as easily as those fake birds did. The fact that the gargoyles and other winged creatures at the beck and call of their chosen leaders had not yer dispatched them as they should was a mystery to him.

But he was not meant to think such meaningless things…, not when there was any need to fret over such meaningless things, and especially Not now that the entire counter attack rested over his bald head.

Instead he sent a few of his detachments to accompany some of the tank formations to spread the wings of his approach.

The last thing he wanted was to get caught in an ambush while the rest of the enemy forces remained amok.

Though, even if they tried to tempt their luck...he was sure that nothing good would come out of it.

With the power of the gods, no matter how hard those men tried, no matter how hard they led to themselves they would break through their lines, just like they had done so before, their sheer numbers punching through anything they laid in their wake.

They outnumbered the enemy. They had greater fire power. And the gods were with them.!

And yet...they were making progress through bad attrition.

The battle was terrific in its violence, but somehow, it had been….far more easier and harder than he had imagined.

On one hand, the enemy had not suffer any crushing defeat, their strongest units still standing proud and taking a hefty toll on his masters own with insulting ease.

This was however not because of how invincible they were, especially not in his sector, for how readily they retreated in the face of combat!

Where was the fury? Where was the wrath that they had shone when they tore apart men and never-born alike like possessed fiends..? The fact that he who had been hiding in the rearguard had been called here was a testament of how brutal their advance had been.

It seemed almost cowardly in his mind, the black clad knights seemingly unwilling to held their ground for far too long against the hordes of demons and believers, refusing to be locked up in a loosing battle and giving in more and more ground.

In that way...the advance had been easy. In fact, he had spotted several locations that had they been held..they could have turned in quite the kill-zones. They were losing men to an appalling level…., but not to the point that even his rotten brain would grasp the thought that they were gonna bleed out of expendables pawns.

The fact that his foes had never broke into a rout, never stumbling and losing their weapons as they retreated did not register in his mind.

The lines of the front-line were buckling, everywhere else the armies of the gods that had brought them here were been push back, but here...it seemed that the weak underbelly of the heathens had been exposed.

And that he would be the one to lead his kin to glorious combat..!

No matter how much they tried, no matter what tricks they deployed, he was sure that those under his command would be victorious against all odds, something that not even that certain holdout that had appeared in the middle of his forces advance would stop!

He would be surprise if they can even slow it down.

Guns, cannons and even a small like machine fired in rapid succession at his direction, the silhouettes of the knights obscured from sight but the moment they fired their weapons, but what he could see was the location they resided. A set of ruins that appeared to be the remnants of a broken bunker that had been breached at the first stages of the siege.

A strong position now that the gods forces had been gutted he would have to admit, and yet...

``Fools, they think they can hold the might of our offensive with less than a thousand men..?´´

He muttered to himself, though in the end his voice was loud enough to be heard by those around him. It did not matter, he shook his head with bemusement, would wonders and fools never cease.?Was his thought before he gave the order for his own ranged forces to ray down death on the position, while the rest were meant to charge.

And this time, it would not be a thousand men firing in a line...but One hundred thousand...!

The ground shook, ripples forming in the muddy ponds by the sheer weight of their march and the unimpeded torrent of explosions that showered the enemy position.

A thick cloud of dust hovered all over the impact locations. Pebbles and rocks were sent flying up in the air, though he was more than sure than some of those debris looked far more humanoid in nature.

All in all, it was beautiful...

He moved forward, changing his passing to a jogging and then into a full sprint as he felt the joy of victory start licking his heart with its warmth with each step that drew him closer to the bunker

The gods were with them! They could not lose! And the enemy seemed to know it as-well as they started to retreat away, falling into a scrambling, but organized retreat.

His men pursued, held back only by the admirable discipline of the enemy they fought, who never broke, always falling back under the cover of their fellows, often dropping smoke grenades that obscured the air around them with thick, white clouds.

As he almost found himself choking on his own tongue when he realized that the enemy was deploying smoke of all things! As if that would stop their assault.

Sure, they could not see what laid in-front of them, and now that they ventured inside..what was around them…

but they still could sense their enemies with other senses.

``With me! Warriors of the Plague! Servants of the darkness...! Show this foolish upstarts the mighty of our patrons! Let not a single one survive us...!´´

He cried out through the air, his voice managing to rage above the storm for a brief moment.

Barrabas strode like a terrible, ramping train now that he no longer had to worry about ambushes. Whipping his weapon back and forth through the already retreating forms of his enemy.

Arrows pelted his shoulder pads, and bullets slammed into his gullets, but they little to harm him. The same could not be said to the men and women whose armor held not the same protection of the elite of the enemy as toxic insects flew in swarms to devour the living in their unending hunger or as bone like shrapnel were fired from rusted guns, carrying with them curses and plagues of all kinds.

Simple mortals could just not stand against them and so..they pushed them back.

Very soon, there was more obscuring smoke cloaking the battlefield than there were enemies on it contesting it.

Still, he pursued...hunting down those last holdouts.

He pounced in a group of three men, clearly having realized he was there just like he had, turning as they ran, firing their rifles at point blank range into him.

Their shots were accurate as they struck his war-plate and chest with enough force to punch a small hole into the blessed gifts of his Lord, but a meaningless endeavor unless they could blow his head up.

He crushed the first one under his foot, smashing him under five pieces with a single stomp, before he lunged at the last two, swiping his weapon to dice these puny heathens of the face of the world.

However a sound rumbled in the air, quickly followed by a light that flared in-front of him. Radiant and brief, born out of the sparks of his weapon clashing against the massive head of a sparkling power maze.

The light illuminating the black and white smoke all around them as a massive towering form appeared before him clad in black midnight. The armor dotted in cracks and burns and rust, red eye lenses glaring at him with an intent that he had been acquainted not so long ago

Anger flared in Barrabas heart as his empty eye sockets glared at the man who had stopped him from clenching his thirst for blood.

A Raptor, another of those fools

No, in fact.., it was the same that had tried to kill him before now that he took a good glimpse of his body.

He was still injured, still bleeding, still suffering the rot...and yet he showed NO weakness.

``Come to die with your fallen brethren..?´´

He taunted, raising his weapon at the man...who took a step back. Now that the plagued Knights weapon was no longer clashing.

``You will kill nothing, and no one else…..you may not have realized it Heretic, but you are already defeated.´´

The Raptor replied coldly, surprising, something that happened again a few seconds later when he watched the knight place his weapon away and into its back. The thing becoming attached to the iron and steel by some sort of magnetism.

``What are you doing? You think this battle is over..?´´

He asked, scoffing incredulous at what he was witnessing his eyes darting at the sides, looking for the trap that the man must surely setting...only to find his fellow kin start making a circle around them once they realized what was going on.

The rest merely walking and running past them...either in ignorance, or wanting to look for far less crowded targets.

This did not seem to scare the human in the slightest who continued to regard at him with contempt.

``It is over, for you…´´

It declared with confidence, the sound coming out through that cruel mask echoing far more humane than the growling he had expected, though the deadpan tone make him become more irritated than nothing else.

And so, Barrabas charged. Raising his sword and hacking away at the man...but his sword did not clash against his body. It did not cleave him in two as he expected.

Instead, the Raptor had ducked away, like it was nothing slammed an elbow into the side of Barrabas forehead and then swerved to the left. Towards the two surviving men who were even then taking aim at his form.

The black clad monster laced himself around and between them as Barrabas reeled and prepared for another strike, but before he could he had grabbed the back of the two troopers armor, leaping up into the air, hundreds of meters away from the contested ground thanks to those blasted wings of his.

He tried to follow them with his eyes, but he lost them…

Too quick to follow…

Too small in the vast horizon..

And there was too many things happening at the same time for him to be able to deduct which one was which.

But there was something that happened once the Raptor left. The engines of his wings and his prompt leave having created a clearing on the smoke in a vast section. Revealing the bleeding sky above...and more concernedly, something that had not been in the field before..!

Walls…

There were massive walls of stone and dirt that had protruded from the ground up from nowhere at each side of his battle force, separating him from any of his kin or any reinforcements. Creating a corridor in which only he and his men occupied in its entirety with the exception of the beginning of it.

Separating him from his left and right wing, and funneling down the rest of his entire army in one place.

Confusion dawned on him.

What was the purpose of erecting two walls in said fashion if they were not going to cut his forces in neatly pockets? What they had down was funnel them down in a straight line, but little else.

Packed as they were, the only discomfort they now suffered was to be so tightly packed against one another now that more and more of his men were passing by.

The strangeness of the situation made his imagination run wild.

For a moment he thought that the walls would crumble around them and squash them like bugs, or that fire would descend from the skies through vile sorcery in an attempt to cleanse them from this world...or perhaps more of those heathens would appear and rear their ugly heads over the rocks and try to attack them from the sides and open fire at his forces through the safety of the high ground.

But nothing of the sort happened.

Was...that it?

Just some walls and vague threats..?

…

…

He started to laugh, the blisters in his body rupturing and spreading the newborns from within into the air around him as if they too wanted to emulate after him..

All these effort, all these bluster, all of these theatrics...for what? Make a change of scenery...?

By all that its plagued and filthy, he could not even manage to contain his laughter as it spilled out from his ruined lips. An ugly, bitter sound over a hoarse, rotten throat. His body shuddering with each passing second.

Those closest to him imitated him, perhaps understanding the comedy of the development they were witness of, while those who could not understand merely stared at them in silence.

His laugh stopped when he found a figure approaching them from the enemy side…

It was alone, his body shrouded by the storm, though not enough for him to not notice him walking towards them without a care in the world even as the ground around it started to be caught in explosions by the tanks now shelling at him. Failing to reach their target, but he was sure they would soon remedy it at once as the turrets slowly rotated ever so slightly.

A small chuckled turned scoff escaped him as he shook his head slowly.

Was this another would be hero? Another champion of their orders of lunatics? Did they really thought they had a chance against them by sending their best one at a time at them..?

In a way, even if they were filthy heathens he admired the tenacity they showed. That strength of character that they bore no matter the odds. To resit the end with all the force they could muster, clawing and biting like rabid animals.

They would make good champions of the master once the rot took the all…, perhaps it was his god given purpose to send them to it.

If that was so...he was more than willing to do so.

He rose one of his hands forward, a clawed digit pointing at the sole figure in the distance that was shrouded by shadows. His face folding, ready to give another order to engage at the newcomer with all the candid and warm welcome they could offer…

He wondered which sound the warriors voice would make when death took him.

How his eyes would bulge and fret at the sight of his body crumbling and rotting..

At the way he would beg for mercy, for it to stop..

Barrabas could not help but lick his lip, almost drooling at the prospect. There were so many things he wanted to see….

So many joys he wanted to share..

But whatever words that were about to come out, whatever those thoughts he had held inside his skull had been...they died out when the blast of one of his tanks roared through the air, its shell surging through the air, but missing for quite a few heads from its intended target.

Yet instead of flying behind the approaching knight it exploded. The shell impacting in something sturdy and heavy before imploding brightly over the surface of something that should not have been there in the first place..

Barrabas could not help but cock his head backwards, awestruck as he tried to encompass with his eyes at the object that been shrouded in darkness until them, now revealed to him.

And it wasn't pretty now that he understood that the figure was not actually shrouded in darkness thanks to the storm, but rather by a massive, colossal TITANIC piece of junk resembling a ball it was carrying over its head with its BARE hands...!.

How...how had he missed this? How could anyone have not seen..seen that thing!? The answer was simple, and yet painful to admit…

They had been too focused on the ground, too focused on their own self assurances of victory...that they had not seen the wrongness of the situation.

Still, how..how was this event even possible..!? What foul sorcery could accomplish such feat...!? They were godless for darkness sake..! There was no way one of the Divine had decided to grant their gifts to them…, t-here was no way a simple mortal could hold onto a castle worth of stone and metal and punch it into a ball to carry it with their own hands…, right? Right?

…

...

Unless..

Anger, bitterness, dread and denial flared inside him all at once, all with the same intensity, fighting for control over his mind. Tearing it apart in their squabble.

No! Nonononononononoooo...! It could not be..! He refused to believe it. That-that THING was suppose to be at the other end of the entire battle! It could not have-it..it

As if the world could make sense of the truth he refused to acknowledge, lightning struck in the horizon. Threads of light spreading over the horizon like webs of a spider. Illuminating with great clarity everything underneath it.

And that included those red, blazing eyes carved into a hideous iron mask.

Barrabas took a step back.

One could never forget what a shock it was to hear about it, let alone witness the monster with his own eyes. It all came rushing back at the former knight in an instant.

The dread, the cold wash of fight or flight, the tide of awe that crippled and stupefied. Some of that came from the creatures sheer size, the colossal heft of their ancient weapons, but there was more to it than that.

The way it moved, the barely conscious arrogance of its gait and bearing. It was an earthbound god, a creature of myth and superstition rendered into flesh and cruel metal. Everything it did, every move of that impossible blacken armor that had made for the sole purpose of war, every fractional turn of that skull like helmet, seven long spikes protruding upwards like the twisted cruel fingers of a revenant clawing at the heavens spoke of silent but constant disappointment

A sentiment that could only come for the fact of being shackled to a plane that was unworthy of it and yet one which it was still compelled to exist.

He had heard gruesome tales from both the living and the never-born, words that were scarcely mentioned and with good reason to avoid draw its wrath into the fools daring to test their luck.

And yet all those whispered words exchanged in frightful gossip did not make it justice.

The cruel, malevolent glares of the Raptors were childish in comparison with their masters own death stare.

For there was nothing in them that was remotely human, not the promise of pain, not the raw essence of human loathing, but rather the certainty of ones own end at his approach.

A force of nature rather than a living, breathing being...and one that could not be spoken to nor reason with

It was wrong even to look at it, the worms in his head screeching and crying the longer his glare was fixated at it.

And then, it threw the ball of metal at them.

The thing landing onto the ground with the grace of a sack of potatoes, making the earth shudder and shake with tremors like an earthquake, dust erupting from the base as it collided with the soil.

But the worst part was the fact that it was rotating towards them.

He rapidly tried to conjure a way out of this mess, his head looking left and right for the closest avenue of escape for he knew that as mighty and terrifying the ball could be, it could only move straight forward. If they moved out of the way to the sides then they would be safe from it.

Some would be lost, true...but if they hurried they could shrug it off as acceptable losses before they regrouped and struck with what they had left.

Only for horror to dawn in his eyes when he realized that the walls were still there, still standing at each side. Keeping each and every of his men neatly packed in the massive corridor.

Dammit! They were trapped..!

And he was not the only one to have that thought cross their minds.

Many started to ran away, to try to reach the other end of this passage of doom they had walked in without a second thought, but the mass of bodies walking forward sent those ideas of escape down the drain.

Many more tried to open fire, tanks firing nonstop each and every shell they held in their stores to put a dent to it! Bullets flying through the air no longer in short spammed strays, but in a full auto like beams of yellow and red as everyone holding a gun pressed the trigger, uncaring of the way their tools of war started to heat and melt, mortars rained death at the thing from above while conclaves of sorcerers used their combine powers to disrupt reality itself against the incoming mass...

The metal shrieked, it dented and combusted where black spots formed over its spherical form with their combine effort…, cracks appearing all over its form, glowing with residual heat.

But it was not enough.

It was not even nearly enough to slow it down for the damn thing was still coming..!

And….they started to realize it as-well.

Their hopes quickly evaporating like morning mist, leaving nothing but terror in its wake as they tried in vane to run for their lifes.

Barrabas did not follow through, did not try to imitate after them, he did not even look away from the avatar of death rolling towards him. He merely stood there...his hands balling into tight fists, his face clenched into a bitter expression as he watched his entire force being crushed before his eyes.

He felt impotent..

Weak.

And above all things...enraged.

Was this how he was gonna meet his end? Not in any sort of glory and greatness, not over a mountain of corpses or having brought pride to the master he sold his soul... but instead squashed like a bug in the most uncaring, most impersonal and insulting way possible...!?

"You will kill nothing, and no one else…..you may not have realized it abomination, but you are already defeated."

"Its over, for you.."

The words echoed inside him, burning him.

It burned him to his very core, leaving a mark that even in death would never wane.

And as madness gripped his mind and unbeating heart he graved a rock and tossed at the oncoming monstrosity.

``YOU….YOU DISHONORABLE CURRRSSSSS!´´

That was the only thing Barrabas managed to spurt out with both shock and indignation before he and every other soul under his command were crushed by what some would consider in time the biggest rolling ball in history.

ºº

ºº

-794790-

-804790-

-854790-

The numbers continued to rise once more in big, glowing digits…telling him the number of those that had been felled by the tactic he had deployed had now joined the rest.

A clever scheme that had been...though something that would have taken a little bit more of time to set up, had he not managed to connect with his own forces on the ground on his way to the epicenter of this mess.

Though it was not them he had been looking for, their meeting merely a product of happenstance as he hunted for something...something really powerful, old and cruel.

He clenched his jaw, his hands balling into fists at the memory before he push the bitter wave away. His mind now switching towards the men and women who stood around him, warriors who mingled in their own affairs, carrying supplies to the front, shells for the artillery in-placements, or the wounded who could not make the journey on their own.

Orders were barked, cries could be heard, but in the ever tide of bodies going back and forth, left and right...there was no chaos.

Not as the storm seemed to hit with unexpected violence..

Not as shells fell around them.

Not as beast howled above their heads and tried to snatch people from the ground.

His kin, elves, humans, beasts and more….working united, like the gears of a well oiled machine, not even caring for the fact that they could be turned into mince meat by a stray bullet or spell.

They truly were diligent…, working to the bone, saluting and kneeling as they realize his presence, but not allowing that to stop their work for too long.

...

He did not know why he had expected them to crumble, to be decimated and break under the unimaginable pressure they had been forced to face after years of grueling war against both mythic and mundane foes that seemed to never tire in their en-devours to tear this planet apart.

He had expected them to cave in at the notion of eternal war, that the promise of peace and calm was nothing but a veiled lie.

They were after all, mortals..

They were normal people or as normal they could be in this blasted rock they called home…, with their own lifes and dreams. Their fears and aspirations. Their friends and families..

He would not have judged them for that.

For he too, deep inside... would have done that.

…

…

And yet... here they stood.

Here they fought, killed and spitted at the death of their world with a smile on their face and zeal in their eyes. Their armors gutted, scars marring their flesh, burns and claws having tried to fell them, marking them with wound that would have put down several men...and they bore them like badges of honor.

They were battered, they were bloodied, but they would NEVER be broken, for it was not their lifes and the world they were fighting for, not this wasted field that had known before glory and peace, not for the honor of their ancestors, not for glory or blood-lust.

They were fighting for him….

Like orphans they clung to him, for he was their anchor in this darkness, their father in a cruel world, their brother in their hardest of hardships, their master in war, their everything….

As long as he stood, they would too…even if he trod into the depths of hell, these simple men would follow behind. And may those that tried to harm him prey, for they would seek retribution...and they were Legion.

But this time...this time it was not blindness that pushed them to him like they had done time and time again during the crusades he and the "others" had. This were not the warriors who were lions yet turned into mellow sheep in his presence.

They wanted this...

They had choose this…

It was, a self destructive desire, yet a choice of their own free will nonetheless…and one they felt pride in.

…

…

He was glad that he was wearing his helmet, that it was only his eyes that were exposed to the inquisitive eyes of those curious enough, for he was sure that he would not have been able to hide the timid smile that was wrapping around the edges of his lips.

He would never say it, he would never admit to anyone...but he did feel a small pang of relief..and pride.

The desolation of the capital of the empire was not sacrificed in vain…, the atrocities he had force them to commit had not been meaningless.

They….were free.

To think..

To believe…

To choose…

The only thing he regretted was that it had taken so much and so long to reach this moment..and how many would actually live long enough to share said gift born out of blood through this war.

``A glorious sight, isn't it master? I am sure that songs will be composed of today's deeds for bards to chant for centuries to come..´´

A voice boomed at his side, the sound filled with a metallic echo only second to the slow rumble that were his footsteps on the ground. His head tilted just ever so slightly to the left, a gesture barely perceptible by those around him as he sent a side-glance at the man he knew had been approaching him before he reached him.

Massive as he was, Zhogar still towered above him by a few good heads. The crimson orbs the Paladin of pain had glowing with a kind warmth as they found his. A side that no one but him would ever see from the massive bulk of living scrap he had attached the soul of his former mentor in.

``I would rather not, there is nothing to celebrate about on these blood soaked fields so drenched with the blood of our brothers and sisters that we now stand on a pool of it.´´

The mirth in those eyes dimmed a little bit, but it did not seem to deter him as he felt the massive, metal hand slap his back in what could have been considered a pat.

``Hahaha…., perhaps you are right. Still, the men would rather cheer for what was gain that what was lost A sense of pride it may be, though one my heart still relish at….if I still had a heart, HAHAHAHAHA…..!.´´

He didn't laugh with him...though he did nod in some sense of comprehension.

He had always been the loudest when it came to anything he did or said, a side effect of turning insane a while ago. Annoying as that could be...he had ended considering it as one of his few endearing attributes.

In a world turned mad...he could only count with the fingers of one hand, the people who actually spoke to him rather casually instead of treating him with the coldness of a barrier between them whether it was out of fascination, loyalty or fear...

``I see…, then feel free to do as your hearts desire. I will not put a stop to it´´

``You will not join us..?´´

``I have a job to do.., the enemy is broken, but not yet beaten.´´

He muttered coldly, shaking his head for a moment before he set himself to move forward. The Shadow walker accompanying him while he did.

``I take that this matter is one that must not be kept waiting then..´´

``Indeed..´´

``Will you go out immediately?´´

The warrior questioned cheerfully, or as cheerful a hulking beast of a risen could have. His voice still thundering, yet this time a little more cautious. The flames of his eyes shrinking in what could be considered as a scowl.

Thinking...

Calculating…

It was sometimes easy to forget that the hulking thing was more than just a massive iron stick to flatten his enemies..

``If possible, yes...´´

``And your support..?´´

He knew what he was talking about…, he understood what he meant.., but there was no time for it. What he was going to do would just hurt his people more than the enemy if he brought men to shadow him.

Even if it was for just a little, it was an expense he could ill afford.

``I can do so without it.., better that way, I don't have to keep track of them´´

Zhogar scoffed, shaking his head with a small hint of bemusement that dripped in the glimmering light of those coal burning like eyes..

``I know, and I have seen your work many times over my lord…,

``But?´´

``But it doesn't stop been rather bold of you to do so. You are a one man army, but you can also count in your men, also...try at least to leave something left for us...walking over corpses is not as fun as making them..UEHEHEHEHEEHEHEE…..

The paladin said before he burst in another mad cackle, a rather strong feat giving that the man in question held no lungs do so. Still, this time he did not nod at the attempt at humor. In fact, he was scowling underneath the cruel iron mask.

Even though the paladin had not been patronizing, the statement annoyed him. Especially because it was meant for just that...

``Bold or not, a last holdout still remains before us..the battle will not end if it continues to stand. To let it be for even one more second will drive me crazy...´´

He growled, before stopping in his tracks, stretching one of his arms forward, a talon pointing at somewhere outside the perimeter of his forces.

`` There…, the last obstacle remains to put the end to this senseless slaughter. The more time we waste, the more souls that are lost. I will break them. Now...and then you can berate me at your hearts contempt old friend..´´

His word was final. There would be no negotiation of any kind...and Zhogar knew it.

In the end, the Shadow walker nodded its empty head.

``It will be as you wish, the foe will lay down at hour feet, bleeding, broken and dead by the time we are finished with them. We will rip them apart, we will tear their bodies inside out, we will burn, chew and cleave them into pieces until they regret the day they decided to taint the soil of our world with their dirty footsteps...´´

``There was a time I would relish on the details Zhogar now I would be satisfied with knowing that justice is served.., just kill them all. No prisoners..´´

It was not like they had made any to begin with during this last five years anyway, but it was not bad to remind everyone of said principle..

``Your wish shall be done, the entire enemy army is almost in full rout. Their lines broken as they were now are nothing but a wayward memory. The other lines of contact speak of breath taking advances in their areas...soon, they will not have space to escape´´

``We have not lost contact with the other groups..?´´

``No, though we had prepared for it...it seems that the spirit of both Solius and Malgus still linger in this plane of existence. Clearly none of them willing to go down before the other..´´

[So the other two remain…] The thought did not bring him any joy, and yet...it didn't bothered him at all. Perhaps he had been expecting them to do so against all odds.

How strange...

``And what about you, Zhogar...´´

``Not much to say…´´

``Explain..´´

``We got the worst and best of the battle as you can see. Still, I did as I could with the cards I was given. We have already set to crush the wings of the enemy force that were exempted from the crushing, from what it seems they are already been pushed back..thinking that they will be reinforced..´´

``Which they wont.., the Dominion is down in this region..the connection though broken may be still be felt...but they would have to wait a while before they can bring more of their vile kin..´´´´

``Exactly, for an enemy that relies in the powers of the Divine and the Nether...they really fucked themselves by leaning into such a crutch. Without it, their tactics works against them…, not like they had much to begin with.. ´´

He was not wrong.., the enemy had literally not made use of any other tactic than "swarm and drown the enemy in your own blood if necessary".

Why would the gods use their brains to fight a war against things they considered lesser than life-stock? No, they would not waste their brain-cells in such thing. Instead they would use force, overwhelming numbers and unlimited power to crush anything in their way...and if that failed? Then it was because they did not use enough brute force.

Gods….

They really were simple creatures.

Like children who had been given unimaginable power, and with no one to judge them for their sins….they acted on their whims. And when those whims were not achieved….they acted on impulse, lashing out and hurting anything and anyone they considered responsible.

They had been doing that for millenniums before the barrier between the other side and the material realm had been broken, it had only been more nuanced, more hidden from view…using proxies and fools to spread their word and their servants in those weary souls who prayed for salvation in this world of bloody evolution.

Now that the restrictions were off...they could do so with their own hands.

To have all that power….and to use it to destroy so wantonly...

...

...

How despicable.

A flare of pain once again flowed through his skull, throbbing with a life of its own as it seemingly tried to spring out through his feeble cranium.

It was a scent..

It was a foreboding feeling that he had sensed not so long ago.

It was the very first thing that had led him here in the first place as he made his way through oceans ob blood, meat and desolation.

It was the smell of death of a primordial being….and the birth of something truly awful. He clenched his jaw

There was only one thing that could explain that….

``Abominations...all of them..´´

He spatted to no one in particular, his words seething with enough rage to make everyone around him flinch in fear at the abject, oozing shroud of malevolence that started to ooze out from him.

``My Lord…?´´

``What is it..!?´´

The anger still lingered, still clawed at each and every word...but he could not care less.

``You seemed... lost for a moment..´´

``I see...´´

``Something troubling you?´´

He fought the urge to actually roll his eyes. Of all the questions, that was the most useless…

He was about to scold the old piece of metal...but the sound of wings of fire flapping with slow combustion in the air put a stop to it.

His eyes now gazing at the form of squadron of Raptors that had descended from the skies, their Sargent leading them as they took a step forward and knelt all at once. They were mostly similar to one another, yet his attention focused on the one leading them.

His armor covered in a thousand scratches and dents, the feathers at the top of his helmet stating his rank almost all but gone, his suit breached in the center with a large hole where his chest seemed exposed and burned, shards of steel and iron lodged deeply into the flesh underneath, while grime and corruption seemed to be spreading over certain spots of the once pure black of his armor.

If he was in pain by the plague that was slowly, but surely consuming him he did not gave any sign of it with the stillness the knight gave as he knelt before them..

``My Lords, I bring dire news of the front...´´

``Stand up..´´

``Master-?´´

``Stand up Sergeant, brothers don't kneel before one another….´´

He replied curtly, almost admonishing him on the spot...the man rose his head almost in fright, not at the sound of his voice, but at his chosen words. Eyes that were hidden from view under the cold, hateful glare of those red lenses that tried to imitate his own´were now open wide as they stared at him in childish bafflement..

It was always amusing as it was annoying to see such cold hearted killers, such hardened and jaded warriors who had stared into the open maws of eldritch horrors with out breaking a sweat stare at him like a puppy looking in confusion at their progenitor when it had said something strange.

He had tried to quell that need of them down…, but it was hard to keep a few million souls from doing that in a rather useful manner. He knew that when mortals were denied something, the more they wanted it, so there wasn't a real way to do fix the matter..

After a few more seconds the warrior begrudgingly agreed to stand. On his own, had he needed his own help he would have died of pride and embarrassment that day, or the jealous eyes of those of his fellow brothers and sisters, he was sure of it.

``Now, what is it that the tides bring in your flight…?´´

``As you command my Lord…., we have detected a strange spike of warp energy flaring all over the enemies last bastion. The fluctuating energy's spiraling out from the very epicenter of this event are the highest we have ever detected to date. Time and space seemed to be breaking apart in the near vicinity…, as if they could not be able to conceal this new tear in reality.

The sergeant was not wrong, he had sensed it….even now, he could feel it grow larger and bigger..and wronger.

`` Our bodies started to burn, our blood boil, our bones creak and crumble, our eyes bleeding just by looking at it…´´

His words halted, his body stiffening on the spot... not at the pain of the memory, but at the weakness of his body for betraying his will...

``And..´´

``And then we saw it.., at the very center of the enemy, surrounded by corpses of its kin, a beast...larger than anything we have ever seen. Growing larger and bigger. Its body made of flesh and scales, yet also ethereal energy that seemed to seethe out from him. Its eyes bearing nothing but evil...´´

``He was feasting...wasn't it?´´

The warrior did not reply, but the answer was plain to see when it rose its head towards him with surprise if only for a brief moment.

The realization did not made him any happier, in fact, it soured his bitterness even further. His clawed talons digging now into his palms.

``Master..?´´

``If what you said is true, then our worst fears have been confirmed. This is bigger than we had anticipated..

``What is it?´´

``The last god of this assault, they have Diablerise...´´

At the sound of his words the entire field seemed to freeze on the spot, the air clawing at their throats like ravenous beasts wanting to be let out now that they had smelled the weakness of their prey. The dread of that single word pumping like hot steaming blood through their veins.

Everyone knew what he was talking about...

``Zoghar was the first to regain his wits…, still.., his demeanor had darkened slightly, or at least...that was what he knew he was expressing even if the man itself had no face to show it.

``Are you sure…?´´

No…

He did not wanted to say that was exactly what he meant.

That perhaps, in a way…, he was wrong.

But would not lie.

He would not deceive the man with such a blatant lie, even if it meant to make him feel better for just a moment. He would pay the man with the same coin he had given him all those years ago.

With cold truth...

``There is no other way it can be something else, not as my heart aches and bleeds the more I tried to peer through the blackness that has shrouded these fields. It is as I said….they have Diablerise..´´

He turned around, looking away from the eyes of his followers and into the blacken wastes that laid before him and the beast hiding away behind them. Almost as if he could see it.

He did not, but he could hear it…

The laughter…

That horrible laughter of a million voices smashed into razor sharp edges and then thrown down into an endless void as if trying to mimic the death wail of an animal in the process.

And it was uttering his taken name.

``It would explain the building of power at the center of the remaining enemy formations, it would also explain why I could not feel the absorption of their souls when I cut them down on the ship..´´

Thinking about it, it explained the gaps of his memory. Why he had not felt that sense of gratification of consuming them as they drew their last under the merciless taste of his blade..

They had been eaten true, but just not by him. One of them had beaten him to it, using the rest as bait to hide himself of the predator among their midst while also using him to quicken the process by waiting as he tore through them.

The mere thought that he had given aid..if only indirectly to one of those filthy creatures filled his heart with apprehension and loathing.

He felt Zoghar place a hand over his shoulder plate.

``Those are some troublesome news... I have seen humans, elves , vampires and even demons Diablerise each other...and the end result is a grotesque monstrosity. If a god has done the same, let alone...to eleven of his own kin..then I fear that you will find in him a foe stronger than all the other gods combined.´´

``Far more than that…, it would be night invincible if only for a brief span of time. No weapons or simple magic will be able to pierce its skin, let alone its protection. Right now, that thing is a massive flux of energy that has taken shape of a thing..´´

To Diablerise was a dangerous thing, it could bring so much power to those who did the deed of sullying their souls with the scent of one of their own kin. It was not just to eat their flesh and bone or their souls...but their entire essence.

Something that even the demons themselves considered vile and dangerous for those who were consumed were literally wiped out from existence as they became energy bars in the body of the heathen bastard.

And though the initial gains of power were immense...the draw backs were even more so, for the energy in the end would kill the user before long.

Like the flickering flame of a candle in a dark room…, it would burn bright for as long as there wax to burn through, but sooner or later…, the flames would run out of material to burn..and it would die alone.

Perhaps the God had cannibalize its own in and act of desperation, or perhaps as a last FUCK you to this world before he went out in a bang.

It didn't matter.

It had to die.

One way or another…, and it had to be NOW..!

``How can we beat that..?´´

The voice of his right hand drew him back to the conversation at hand. The words formulating the question short and hoarse.., but not fearful.

He wanted to know what was their instructions.

What could they do to end this., he had no answer to give but this.

``By trying...´´

His answer was not what the paladin was expecting, leaving confused the living piece of armor as it stared at him with baffled blazing flames.

Sadly the shadow walker was far more perceptive of the truth he had wanted to hide. Panic for the first time in years shining in his terrific visage.

``No! Not like this..!´´

``It will be…´´

`` You don't have the strength to put yourself through that ringer...not in your state. Let us deal with the beast, let us skewer its filthy hide with our wrath for you..´´

``No one else can do it, I have to be the one Zoghar...´´

``Master, you cant..´´

``I must...´´

``But your body-...´´

``A small price to pay...´´

``You may die..´´

``Death can have me when it earns me...´´

He growled at last…, he was TIRED of been questioned like this. The more time they wasted here the more the situation would turn even more bleaker than it was..

At last...that seemed enough to stop his old trusted teacher to fucking stop his rant. Pulling away his reassuring hand from his shoulder as the position of master and follower reasserted itself between them once more.

He walked past him, not even looking at the pain in those eyes that shone just so much alike his.

There was too much at stake..

There was too much to do.

And he felt just too fucking tired to care….

``What are you thinking my Lord..?´´

``To cut the head of the snake and then its body will follow...´´

``Then you will not be alone in your endeavor, master. I and every men in my forces are at your disposal my Lord…we will not let you down´´

He stopped on his tracks, tilting his head to the side, not even all the way...but just enough to take a side glance at the still towering warrior who had remained behind.

Fool…

He was such a beautiful fool...

``No..´´

Zoghar almost seemed to flinch at that, as if struck by a fist that had managed to penetrate through the empty slots of metal that made the carapace he had forged for him.

He recuperated rather quickly though.

``I insist...´´

…

…

He shook his head. Extending his hand to the side, sharp talons coated in dried blood and brain matter trying to scratch the air in its wake.

A few seconds later the whistling sound of a blur of light could be seen before his hand closed tightly around the pommel of Absolution, accommodating himself back to the touch of its shape, to its otherworldly essence that filled his heart with a longing equal to a man finding its first love after years of been stranded apart.

The once elongated ebony blade was now stained with the slick, scarlet tides of arterial red from those it had tore through since he had left the living weapon hunt for its own amusement. The hundreds of thousands of souls he and it had reaped through now emanating a potent glow that through the blood smeared all over it made it appear as if he was holding onto a bleeding star.

It wanted more…

It wished to be put to use immediately…

It desired to render flesh void of life and souls empty of blood...

And he would give it to it….

He looked one more time at Zoghar. His jaws clenched, but they had lost some of the tension that had permeated through the entire ordeal. Like two friends who had come to a long and tedious discussion in which though neither of them were thrilled of the prospect of the future...they were mature enough to let it go.

He then looked at the horizon were Death awaited him…, before he finally stared at his own reflection on the glowing shape of his weapon…

It would have been so easy…

To give in, to nod and shake the warriors hand in compromise..But that would not come.

…

…

His pride had been the only thing he had not been able to shed out from his mortality...and so, it was the first one to speak.

``I will not have the lives of these heroes be spent here in a suicidal charge after all they have done for the world.., our world. I will not have it deprive of such courageous men when greater battle await us..´´

He took a step forward, cocking his head backwards for a moment as he gestured at the blackness tainted with red above their heads. The storm growing stronger, the rain falling with more intensity..

``But the skies bleed and the ground we walk dies, cursing our existence for our folly. The rain sheds its tears as a solemn melody echoes in this wastes for those who care to listen..´´

He took a long breath.

``But if it must be…, if I must spent your lives like a coin….then forty will be enough´´

``So few…?´´

``Faith, Zoghar….have faith in your brothers. In times like these...is the only thing we have left´´