Author's note: Greetings to all readers. I will likely write a small section at the top of each chapter to respond to the comments you leave. One more thing, this chapter is a reference to TheParryGod's Patient Zero animation.
Response to Rollynolly: Well, the Combine units from the Half-Life beta will be included naturally and with a credible plot excuse as the chapters progress. Mainly because the original language of my fic is Spanish and it's uploaded on Wattpad; I'm only translating it for Fanfiction. Regarding the rest of the units from that Addon, I'm still considering whether to include them. As for the demihumans, it's something I'll use extensively for the story. Thank you for the suggestion.
Response to BIGPLNTPWNR17: I'm glad you loved the writing of both chapters. I assure you that the demihumans will not be wasted by the Alliance.
Response to Mend1Cant Blas: Regarding the antlions, I have plans for them as well in future chapters, once I finish translating.
Response to N1cok: It's great that you're enjoying it so far. I hope the future translated chapters continue to be of interest to you.
Location: Earth, outskirts of City 17.
In the neglected outskirts of City 17, a leaden blanket of opaque clouds covered the firmament, completely blocking the weak rays of the rising sun. Along the winding dirt road, bordered by unkempt weeds and withered bushes, an armored vehicle of the occupation forces advanced at a steady pace.
The APC, one of many used by the ground garrisons to patrol the peripheral areas, moved along the dusty path with a slight metallic rattle. The reinforced wheels mercilessly crushed the stones and loose earth beneath its imposing weight, leaving a trail of dusty tracks in its wake.
Inside the armored transport, the atmosphere was one of routine. Two Civil Protection agents occupied the rear. One of them, with the name Dimitri embroidered on his uniform, kept his submachine gun firmly gripped in his gloved hands, fingers tense around the trigger guard. His companion, Vasili, appeared relaxed, using his phone while his boots impatiently tapped the metal floor.
"Hey Vasili, do you think we'll get to do any interesting raids today?" Dimitri commented, breaking the silence with a casual tone as his gas mask slightly distorted his voice.
Vasili looked up from the small device and shrugged, the gesture barely visible under his bulletproof uniform. "HA! No idea, buddy. Although with our luck, we'll probably end up chasing bums again." He replied with disdain and amusement, shaking his head inside his mask.
"Don't remind me." Dimitri let out a bitter laugh that resonated like a distorted croak through the voice encoder. "Last time, that crazy old man almost took my eye out with his fucking crutch."
As the two law enforcement officers continued their casual chat, an imposing figure over two meters tall stood next to them, impassive as a steel statue. The Wallhammer, equipped with its heavy armor and gas mask with polarized lenses in a cold bluish tone, showed no signs of emotion or distraction whatsoever. It continued to look straight ahead with unbreakable expressionlessness, completely oblivious to the conversations of the Civil Protection agents.
The female metrocop at the wheel of the armored vehicle kept her eyes fixed on the road, ignoring the distorted voices coming from the back. Her gloved hands clung firmly to the steering wheel as the APC advanced through the desolate landscape of the outskirts of City 17, leaving a trail of dust in its wake.
"What do you think, Yelena?" Vasili's voice rose from behind. "Do you think they'll finally let us have some fun today?"
Yelena remained silent for a few moments, her eyes fixed on the road as a grimace of disgust formed beneath her mask. Finally, with an exasperated sigh, she responded without taking her eyes off the road: "Shut up, Vasili. You both know I have no idea what awaits us today. So better shut up before I regret bringing your asses with me."
A brief uncomfortable silence settled in the rear compartment as Dimitri and Vasili exchanged glances behind their masks. Then, as if nothing had happened, they resumed their casual chat about the latest rumors circulating in the barracks, their distorted voices mixing with the rattle of the armored vehicle.
Yelena removed her gloved hand from the steering wheel, her extended fingers letting escape the last vestiges of body heat that filtered through the thick material. With an almost reverential movement, she turned the knobs of the radio console, the channels passing one after another in a cacophony of static and distorted voices.
Finally, after a few seconds of relentless searching, the speakers came to life with the first chords of the pirate station she so enjoyed listening to in secret. An involuntary smile formed beneath her mask as her boots tapped to the rhythm of the rebellious melody floating in the air.
Unfortunately, her brief moment of guilty pleasure was abruptly interrupted when the signal was cut off and replaced by the now-familiar crackle of the police station radio. A frustrated growl escaped from the filters of her mask, her gloved hands clenching into fists on the steering wheel.
"Attention all units, code 10-94. I repeat, code 10-94, over." The distorted voice of the operator resonated loudly in the small compartment.
Upon hearing the code indicating a possible high-risk situation, Dimitri and Vasili immediately tensed up. The submachine gun in the hands of the former was gripped with renewed force, his fingers flexing around the trigger guard. Beside him, Vasili let out a shaky sigh, his back pressed against the seat backrest as his eyes scanned the perimeter through the small windows.
"We have received a report from local civilians about possible hostile activity of invading elements at coordinates 14-28-92. I repeat, hostile activity at coordinates 14-28-92." The voice crackled and distorted even more through the speakers. "I request that the nearest unit proceed to investigate and neutralize any threat at that location. Over and out."
A sepulchral silence settled in the armored vehicle after that message. The three Civil Protection agents exchanged glances through their immobile masks, countless thoughts racing at full speed behind those polarized lenses.
It was Vasili who finally broke the tense silence, his voice sounding unusually serious when just moments ago it had a more cheerful tone.
"Those coordinates are just a few kilometers from our current position." He pointed out, his eyes fixed on the small screen of his device. "I think they're talking to us, Yelena."
The woman nodded stiffly, without taking her eyes off the road stretching out in front of them. With a sharp twist of her wrist, the armored vehicle slightly increased its speed, the wheels mercilessly crushing stones and weeds.
"Affirmative." Her voice sounded muffled but firm. "Looks like we'll have a bit of action after all."
A slight metallic growl resonated from the back of the compartment as the imposing figure of the Wallhammer moved for the first time. With almost robotic movements, the soldier over two meters tall checked the load of his Demolizer-23 shotgun, making sure it was ready. The two metrocops observed him out of the corner of their eye, their gazes quickly returning to the front.
"Wait... Aren't those the coordinates of that old farmhouse?" Dimitri's voice sounded tense, even through the voice encoder. His free hand clenched into a fist. "And weren't we supposed to have already arrested all those Roman shits that came out of that Gate in Dolyna Onovlennya?"
"Apparently not all of them, you big genius." Yelena shook her head, her foot sinking harder on the accelerator as she answered the operator to confirm they were heading to the given coordinate. The APC took a sharp turn, inertia pushing everyone to one side as they entered hostile territory. "So get ready for shit, guys. For all we know, we could be about to walk into the wolf's den."
As the armored vehicle advanced along the desolate road, the charred remains of the old farmhouse began to appear among the undergrowth that bordered the path. Yelena narrowed her eyes, her grip tightening around the steering wheel as a growl escaped her throat.
Around her, the other two metrocops checked their weapons and equipment once again, each of their movements precise and devoid of any emotion. The Wallhammer, once again, remained stoically motionless, its only apparent function to wait until the right moment to unleash its crushing force.
After a prolonged journey through dusty and desolate roads, the imposing armored vehicle of the occupation forces finally reached its destination. A slight metallic screech, similar to a sigh of tired steel, announced that the reinforced tracks were finally stopping, crushing the last stones under their crushing weight.
"We've reached the target." Yelena's voice resonated in the compartment as she stopped the APC with a firm turn of the steering wheel, her gloved fingers squeezing the rough material tightly.
Through the windshield, the agent's eyes carefully scanned the decrepit structure that stood before them. The old farmhouse, which at some point in time was a picturesque and cozy home, had fallen into a pitiful state of decay and abandonment.
The remains of what was once a cheerful front garden were now nothing more than a sea of tall and tangled weeds, dotted with bare bushes and dry branches that extended like spectral claws towards the overcast sky. Fragments of what must have once been a fence in good condition lay scattered among the wild vegetation, its planks cracked and eaten away by the relentless effects of time and weather.
One of the upstairs windows hung precariously from its frame, swaying with a slight creak every time a gust of wind lashed the remains of the house. The wooden shutters, once meticulously painted, now hung crooked from their rusted hinges, some even missing, revealing glimpses of faded curtains that fluttered like spectres trapped in the shadows of the interior.
Yelena let out a brief snort that the filters of her mask distorted into a guttural hiss. At the side of the road, a car already corroded by rust rested silently, like a fallen sentinel that had been contemplating the decadent scene for decades. Its smooth and cracked tires seemed to merge with the ground that surrounded them, while weeds grew defiantly through the broken windows, claiming the abandoned vehicle as part of their jungle realm.
"What a dump..." Yelena muttered with disdain, her words distorted by the voice encoder. "That pile of rusty junk looks like it won't work even with the best mechanic in the world fixing it."
A metallic growl resonated behind her as the imposing Wallhammer set in motion. The colossal soldier, clad in his heavy armor and polarized gas mask, walked with calculated steps until he positioned himself next to the armored vehicle's door.
His shotgun, an instrument of cold and impersonal destruction, rested firmly gripped in his grasp, waiting for the metrocop to open the doors. The other two followed his example by rising from their seats.
Yelena entered a brief sequence of codes into the control panel, her gloved fingers pressing the keys with almost military precision. In response, a metallic screech resonated in the compartment as the armored rear doors of the vehicle swung wide open, releasing a cloud of vapor that swirled in the cold outside air.
The two agents emerged from the transport with fluid and well-practiced movements. Dimitri was the first, his submachine gun firmly gripped in one hand while the other slid to his belt to extract his secondary weapon, a Glock 19 that he held with the ease of years of training. Vasili followed closely behind, his boots hitting against the dirt road in a steady rhythm as his eyes scanned the surroundings through the polarized lenses of his mask.
A moment later, Yelena also abandoned the armored vehicle, her steps decisive and measured as she rounded the APC to join her companions. Her Glock was already firmly gripped in her fist, the weapon extending in front of her as her gaze scanned every inch of the scene.
With a slight tremor that shook the earth beneath their feet, the transhuman descended from the transport, his bulky armored figure radiating an almost crushing presence. Each of his movements was calculated and precise, as if a computer program governed every muscle contraction. His heavy steps resonated in a metallic echo as he advanced a few meters, the shotgun wielded with a force that could split the weapon in two in less capable hands.
The two Metrocops raised their weapons in unison, the black barrels pointing firmly ahead while their senses remained sharpened, alert to the slightest indication that would reveal the presence of their hidden target. The Wallhammer, in turn, examined the surrounding environment with his expressionless gaze, meticulously scanning every detail in search of possible signs of the enemy lurking in the shadows.
After a few brief moments of tense calm, the distorted and robotic voice of the Combine soldier resonated outside, unintelligible to all except the Metrocops who received the unfiltered transmission in their earpieces.
"Control, unit 742 in sector 9-7. Ready to comply with anticipated directive."
Dimitri and Vasili positioned themselves in a triangular formation around the leader, the Wallhammer, unequivocally underlining his hierarchical command position over them. At the same time, the artificial voice of the APC's public address system filled the environment with its pre-recorded warnings.
"Attention, any unauthorized invasive gathering activity is prohibited. We request your full cooperation with the ground protection team to maintain your vital signs intact and avoid taking extreme measures."
As if that voice had been a signal, the small Combine squad advanced with measured and coordinated steps, their weapons sweeping the perimeter as they approached the abandoned dwelling. The crackle of twigs and the hurried slithering of frightened rats fleeing from their hiding places among the undergrowth was all that broke the tense silence.
"Ground protection team, response code: 49-64-77." The Overwatch voice ceased abruptly, giving way to the sound of the Wallhammer's heavy boots resonating in conjunction with the gusty wind that detached leaves and torn papers from the ground.
The Combine soldier extracted a small device from his belt and tossed it into the air with an almost robotic movement. Instantly, the small object began to grow and deploy until reaching the approximate size of a human head, its internal blades initiating a circular movement that kept it suspended several meters above the ground.
With a slight gesture of his gloved hand, the Wallhammer ordered the aerial drone to conduct a thorough inspection of the outer perimeter of the abandoned dwelling. Obeying the wireless orders, the hum of the small device's blades intensified when it began its patrol around the ruined structure.
While the Manhack carried out its reconnaissance work on the exterior, the three ground troops advanced with renewed caution towards the entrance door of the house, their weapons ready and their senses on high alert for any sign of imminent danger. The Wallhammer led the formation, his imposing silhouette casting an elongated shadow that seemed to swallow everything in its path.
With an almost imperceptible sign he made with his fingers, the Combine soldier indicated to his two companions to take flanking positions next to the door frame, their bodies pressed against the wall while waiting for the order to advance. A new numerical code escaped from the filters of his mask, this time in a lower tone, directed exclusively to the Metrocops' earpieces.
"Entry procedure authorized. Prepare to enter by force in three... two... one..."
In perfect synchronization, Dimitri and Vasili pivoted on their heels, their shoulders colliding with the rickety wooden door that gave way with a crash of scattered splinters. In one breath, both Civil Protection agents burst into the interior of the dwelling, their weapons sweeping every corner in search of any threat.
The Wallhammer entered after them with heavy steps that made the floorboards creak under his reinforced boots. His shotgun was in firing position, the lenses of his mask flickered as the night vision and heat detection systems activated, turning the interior of the house into a landscape of greenish and yellowish tones.
The assault team crossed the threshold of the decrepit house with caution, their weapons ready as they scanned the interior for any sign of danger. Despite the evident deterioration on the exterior, the remains of the home seemed to retain a certain ghostly air of what it once was.
The main living room stretched out before them like a canvas of decay and abandonment. Ruined furniture and debris of rotten boards formed an irregular tapestry on the dust-covered floor, each step leaving footprints in the layer of accumulated grime. The cracked walls exhibited peeling discolored paint, revealing the gray bricks underneath like the ribs of a flayed corpse.
However, those gloomy details were nothing more than a backdrop for the three operatives, whose trained gazes moved in constant exploration of every corner and nook. Dimitri and Vasili advanced in silence, their submachine guns sweeping in an arc each new area that opened before them while the small aerial drone buzzed over their heads.
The flying device returned from its exterior reconnaissance with a slight flutter, its blades partially folding as it stopped next to the imposing Wallhammer. A slight flash in the lenses of his helmet indicated that the soldier was receiving the collected data, a metallic growl escaping from the filters of his mask as he confirmed that no signs of life had been detected in the immediate perimeter.
"Manhack deployed," he announced with his distorted voice. "Initiating interior sweep on lower floor, sector by sector."
Instantly, the small drone sprang to new life, its blades fully deploying as it ascended to cross the threshold into the first of the side rooms. The assault team split into two groups, Dimitri and Vasili advancing towards the rooms on the right with their weapons raised while the Wallhammer took the lead towards the other flank, the shotgun wielded with crushing force.
As they delved into the bowels of the abandoned house, the air around them seemed to grow even colder, as if the very environment had frozen in time. Shreds of fabric hung from the door frames, swaying lazily with the currents of air flowing through the broken windows.
In one of the rooms, the remains of an old sofa lay abandoned, its springs visible among the tears in the faded fabric. An overturned table rested beside it, the splinters of its legs scattered among the pieces of what were once plates and glasses.
Dimitri held his breath in a reflex action as his boot crushed a broken glass jar, the crunch of the crystals breaking even more sounding thunderous in the sepulchral silence that enveloped them. Vasili glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, his shoulders tense as they both continued their advance to the next room.
On the opposite wing, the Wallhammer advanced with inhuman calm, each of his heavy steps making the floorboards creak under his weight. His lenses blinked intermittently, the thermal detection and night vision systems activated as he explored every inch of the deserted corridors.
The Manhack emerged from one of the side doors, its blades spinning at full power as it rose to inspect the upper floor. The metallic buzz of its flight was momentarily overshadowed by a dull roar that shook the walls, a cloud of dust rising from the upper floor.
"Collapse detected on the second level," the soldier's distorted voice resonated through the metrocops' earpieces. "Continuing with the inspection."
Dimitri and Vasili exchanged tense glances as the aerial drone disappeared from view on the upper floor, flying over the stairs. The dark-haired agent swallowed nervously, his free hand beaded with cold sweat as he gripped the submachine gun more tightly.
"Damn, I hate these abandoned places..." he muttered through clenched teeth, his words barely audible through his mask's filter. "They give me the creeps."
"That makes two of us," Vasili replied with a tense nod. "The sooner we finish here, the better."
They advanced towards the next room with renewed caution, their boots crunching on the dusty carpet as they kept their weapons steady in front, the black barrels like the jaws of a beast thirsting for violence. A slight tremor shook the cracked walls as the Wallhammer burst into another room, the shotgun pointing to every corner in search of hidden threats.
Meanwhile, on the second floor, the Manhack continued its methodical inspection, the rotating cameras of its spherical structure scanning each new angle that was revealed. Its blades fluttered briefly when an object fell from the ceiling, a small rat that fled in terror upon detecting the machine's presence, but the drone remained unfazed, simply resuming its route as if nothing had happened.
Back on the ground floor, the assault team converged once again in the main living room, their steps resonating in a thunderous metallic echo in unison. The Wallhammer stepped forward, his colossal silhouette casting an elongated shadow over the debris while performing a final security sweep.
"Interior perimeter of the lower floor is clear. Interior of the ground floor, clear," he reported in his monotonous voice the information already given to his three companions. "Awaiting the Manhack's report to proceed with the inspection of the second level."
A tense silence fell over the group as they waited for the signal to advance. Dimitri let out a shaky sigh that made his mask's filters resonate, his index finger pressing the trigger guard more firmly.
After a tense minute, the agents turned their necks towards one of the windows as the metallic buzz of the Manhack approached. The small drone crossed the broken glass frame in a frenzied flutter, its blades stirring up a new cloud of dust inside.
Yelena, Dimitri, and Vasili barely contained the urge to make some comical comment about why the flying machine hadn't returned via the stairs it had already used to go up. Still, some muffled laughs escaped from their mask filters when the metal sphere stopped in front of them with a slight screech.
The Manhack began transmitting the collected data directly to the Wallhammer, the small flashes in his helmet visor indicating that he was receiving the information. After a few brief seconds of motionless processing, the colossal soldier made a slight gesture with his hand, a mute signal for the drone to guide them to where it had detected the life signs.
Obeying the silent order, the Manhack sprang to new life, its blades fully deploying as it ascended to return to the second level through the same window. The three ground troops hurried to follow it, their weapons raised and ready for combat while maintaining constant vigilance of their flanks.
However, the two metrocops were forced to slightly reduce their pace when the sound of the Wallhammer's heavy boots resonated behind them. The colossal soldier followed them closely, his advance hampered by the additional weight of his reinforced armor and equipment.
Upon reaching the stairs, they began to ascend with renewed caution, their steps creaking on the rotting wood as they advanced in compact formation. Finally, they reached the second level of the decrepit house, the stench of dampness and mold fully invading them.
The Manhack awaited them on the upper landing, its blades spinning lazily as it guided them down the narrow corridor towards one of the rooms. As they approached, a slight metallic crash resonated from inside, as if something heavy had collapsed.
Dimitri and Vasili exchanged sidelong glances, their fingers flexing more tightly around the trigger guards of their submachine guns. The dark-haired agent swallowed nervously as the Manhack crossed the threshold of what appeared to be the old kitchen of the house.
The interior of the room was an utter mess. An old refrigerator lay overturned in the center, its door wide open like the mouth of a metallic monster devoured by rust. Remains of cans and broken bottles covered much of the floor, crunching under the assault team's boots as they advanced in a fan formation.
"Where the hell could those damn Romans have hidden?" Yelena's distorted voice resonated among the cracked walls as she crouched to examine one of the multiple cracks, her Glock firmly gripped. "This damn hellhole doesn't have anywhere to hide."
"Let's keep looking, this place isn't a maze even if it looks like one," Vasili replied calmly as his gaze swept across the kitchen. The Manhack was leaving the room, moving towards other areas of the upper floor in its tireless reconnaissance work.
Dimitri, for his part, chose to approach one of the windows, his boots crunching over the remains of glass scattered on the floor. Through the broken crystals, the exterior looked as gloomy and desolate as he remembered, storm clouds accumulating more densely on the horizon.
"Looks like it's going to rain..." he muttered to himself, a shiver running down his spine at the thought of having to continue the search under an icy downpour. "Damn it, I hope this ends soon..."
A few minutes of tense silence passed, the only sounds present being the occasional flutter of the Manhack as it completed its scan of the second level and the faint crackles of static electricity emanating from the Wallhammer.
Finally, the metallic buzz of the drone's blades intensified as it returned to the landing, stopping in front of the imposing soldier. A slight flash in his helmet visor indicated that the device was transmitting the collected data to him.
After a few brief seconds of processing, the Wallhammer extended his gloved hand, palm up in a silent order. Instantly, the Manhack descended to rest on that metallic surface, its flight systems deactivating as its blades folded in an almost organic movement.
With a twist of his wrist, the Combine soldier reduced the size of the small drone until it acquired the compact size of a handheld device. He secured it in a compartment of his utility belt before bringing his fingers to the side of his helmet, activating the internal communicator.
"Overwatch, exploration code 10-03-0-7 completed. Absence of hostiles confirmed at the location. Unit 742 awaiting further instructions." His distorted voice resonated in the deserted corridor as he slightly lowered the barrel of his heavy shotgun.
He turned to begin the return to the starting point, his heavy armor making the floorboards creak with each step he advanced. The two metrocops exchanged sidelong glances before following him, finally lowering their guard as they slid their MP7 submachine guns into the hook of their harnesses.
Yelena was the last to relax her combat stance, her Glock sliding back into the holster on her thigh with a slight metallic click. She shook her head inside her mask in a gesture of annoyance as she began to advance after her companions, her boots resonating on the rotting wood.
"Hey, doesn't this damn place have an attic or something?" Dimitri's voice resonated with a complaining tone, distorted by his mask's filters. "Don't get me wrong, I'm glad there's nothing up there, but with our luck there's bound to be a trap or..."
His words were cut short when his boot stepped hard on something crunchy on the floor. Looking down, two small papers with inscriptions in an unknown language lay under his foot, crushed and beginning to glow with an intense reddish light.
A thunderous roar shook the cracked walls as the magical trap activated with devastating force. A fireball erupted from the very floor, ravaging everything in its path in an explosion that made the room tremble.
The blast of the explosion shook the foundations of the decrepit house, the cracked walls trembling as if they were about to crumble at any moment. A burning fireball burst from the floor itself, sweeping away everything in its path as it ascended in a vortex of scorching heat and flying debris.
Dimitri was the first to receive the devastating impact of the deflagration. His body was thrown backward like a rag doll, the charred remains of his uniform torn away as the shock wave slammed him against the nearest wall. A choked gurgle escaped from the carbonized remains of his mask as his ribs cracked with a sickening crunch, bone fragments piercing his ruptured lungs. Large amounts of dark blood began to flow from his mouth and nose, splattering the wall in a grotesque parody of an abstract painting.
Vasili met a similar fate as the explosion hit him full force. The fireball consumed his flesh in a matter of seconds, the flames devouring his face and hair with insatiable voracity. His burning body spun in the air before crashing to the ground, convulsing in agony as his piercing screams were drowned out by the tongues of fire that entered his open throat. His hands flailed frantically, scratching at the charred wood in a desperate attempt to extinguish the flames devouring his flesh, until they finally became motionless, fingers gnarled in grotesque postures.
The Wallhammer, thanks to his imposing reinforced armor, managed to resist most of the explosion. However, the force of the impact was enough to throw him backward, his armored body spinning in the air before crashing to the ground with a metallic thud that shook the remains of the room.
A rain of debris and wood splinters buried him almost completely, only his left leg and part of his shotgun protruding from the remains of an overturned table and a collapsed wardrobe. Despite the devastation, the Combine soldier's reinforced armor remained intact, life support systems operating at maximum capacity to keep him alive under the mountain of debris that imprisoned him.
In the corridor, Yelena's body lay motionless, her back against the wall where the blast wave had violently thrown her. Her mask had cracked, revealing part of her bloodied and dust-covered face, eyes closed in an unconsciousness that could well be eternal. Shreds of scorched fabric hung from her arms and legs, the exposed skin blackened by burns while a thin trickle of blood flowed from her mask's temple.
The prevailing silence after the devastation was broken only by the faint creaks of charred boards and beams, the air fouled by the stench of burnt flesh and gunpowder. Small flames danced here and there on the smoldering remains, licking the pools of dark blood that began to spread across the floor, until the fire was extinguished by the raindrops that managed to enter through the holes in the old construction.
The worn wooden grate that gave access to the attic of the abandoned house creaked on its rusty hinges when pushed from the inside. A puff of stale, dust-laden air escaped from the opening, swirling in the corridor before slowly dissipating.
From the shadows of the small upper room, a small group of figures wrapped in robes and Roman steel armor began to descend the narrow staircase. They were the Saderans that the Combine squad had been looking for.
The men advanced cautiously, their gloved hands wielding short swords and long curved daggers. Some carried wooden shields, hastily made due to the destruction of their original shields two days earlier, while others carried strange objects of intricate manufacture, possibly magical artifacts according to their pagan beliefs.
Upon reaching the landing, one of the legionnaires let out a muffled exclamation as he spotted the charred bodies of what he recognized as minor demons. His companions hurried to gather around him, some bringing a hand to the hilt of their weapons warily.
"Congratulations Paullus, your spell annihilated those three dark wizards and their demonic leader," exclaimed one of the Saderans, his voice filled with joy. Several celebratory smiles spread among the small group as they shared an embrace of camaraderie.
The addressed man, a middle-aged man dressed in a dark blue robe, nodded with a slight smile. "I appreciate your words. But it would be prudent to make sure we recover their magic wands to use to our advantage. I'm intrigued to know how their spells work."
"Magic wands?" One of the legionnaires let out a mocking chuckle. "By all the gods, Paullus, those things they carry in their hands are nothing but weapons for cowards. Have you forgotten what real weapons are?"
"Do not underestimate the power of these wizards' magic and their demonic allies, Marcus," Paullus replied with a warning tone. "Their artifacts may be more dangerous than they appear. That's why we must study them carefully."
Having said this, the Roman sorcerer made a gesture towards one of his youngest disciples. "You, Quenium. Retrieve those wands so we can analyze them later. Carefully, we don't know what kind of traps they might have."
The boy nodded stiffly before descending the last steps into the ruined kitchen. His brown eyes scanned the debris-covered floor before settling on the nearest charred body.
It was Dimitri, or what was left of him. The Civil Protection agent had died in a grotesque position, luckily his dead face was hidden by his gas mask.
The young mage suppressed a grimace of disgust at that sight, swallowing to contain the nausea that threatened to overwhelm him. Even so, he forced himself to advance until he stood next to the charred corpse, his hands groping the ground in search of the deceased's weapon.
His fingers clenched around the grip of the MP7, the weapon still warm to the touch. He lifted it with extreme care, observing the strange mechanism with a mixture of fear and curiosity, ignorant of the danger that still lurked beneath the rubble.
None of those present noticed the slight movement in the shadows cast against the wall. Nor the metallic screech of the shotgun being wielded with crushing force by the Wallhammer's gloved hand. Nor the flashes of light that blinked in the lenses of the gas masks as the target acquisition systems activated.
The only thing that warned the young Roman of the imminent danger was the barrel of the Demolizer-23 poking out from among the debris remains, barely a second before the cybernetic weapon activated with a thunderous roar.
The reinforced steel pellets burst through the air in an expansive cone, turning everything in their path into a cloud of splinters and metal fragments. The direct impact against the mage's face was devastating, literally tearing off the upper half of his head in an explosion of blood and brain matter.
The decapitated body collapsed backward, the magic weapon slipping from his fist as life abandoned him in front of the wide-open eyes of his companions. A collective scream of terror erupted among the Saderan legionnaires, who unsheathed their weapons as they retreated towards the stairs, frantically searching for the one responsible for the attack.
Their fear turned to absolute horror when the imposing figure of the Wallhammer emerged from among the debris, his reinforced heavy armor covered in dust and splinters. Each of his movements was a walking threat, the smoking barrel of his shotgun pointed directly at the group of terrified invaders.
"By all the gods! The armored demon still lives!" Marcus's voice resonated in a squeal of panic, his hands trembling with such force that he could barely hold his sword. "But that's impossible! We hit him full on with Paullus's explosive spell!"
"Watch out! Here he comes again!" Brutus's warning cry came too late as the next barrage of pellets exploded towards the group, taking down two more legionnaires whose screams of agony were extinguished in abrupt choked exhalations.
The last two imperial knights did not hesitate to launch themselves against the imposing Wallhammer, desperation injecting adrenaline into their veins as they wielded their weapons with renewed vigor. The first to reach the colossal soldier was Brutus, his short sword bathed in sweat as he brandished it with a strength born of irrational fear.
A battle cry escaped his throat as his arm tensed, the sharp blade whistling as it cut through the air in a deadly arc. However, his onslaught did nothing but seal his own fate. The barrel of the Demolizer-23 rose with a fluid movement, the internal mechanism of the shotgun activating in an exhalation.
The barrage of reinforced pellets burst forth with the force of a cannon, the cone of projectiles tearing through the air like a swarm of metallic bees. Brutus barely had time to blink before the impact hit him full in the chest, the steel blast piercing his armor and flesh as if they were butter.
The upper part of his torso exploded in a cloud of blood and viscera, the remains of his ribs and internal organs splattering the cracked walls in a grotesque pattern. His lifeless body spun in the air before crashing to the ground, a dark stain slowly spreading beneath what remained of his spine.
The last of the invaders, Marcus, managed to dodge much of the barrage by throwing himself behind some debris when the shotgun activated. However, several of the projectiles hit his left leg, tearing away strips of flesh and causing the kneecap to burst in an explosion of bone and torn tendons.
A scream of agony tore from his throat as he collapsed onto the splintered wood, his fingers uselessly scratching the floor in an attempt to crawl out of the line of fire. He raised his terrified gaze just in time to see the Wallhammer advancing towards him, each of his steps making the remains of the abandoned house tremble.
With a renewed cry of rage, the legionnaire gripped his gladius with his good hand, brandishing the sharp blade in a desperate arc towards the Combine soldier's stomach. The steel blade crashed against the front plate of the reinforced armor with a metallic screech, bouncing harmlessly without leaving a mark on the thick plating.
Before Marcus could react, a gloved hand closed around his wrist with crushing force. A grotesque crunch of broken bones resonated in the room as the Wallhammer increased the pressure, forcing the knight to drop his sword in a reflex gesture of agony.
"Fucking demon!" Marcus's scream was muffled by the noise of his wrist being destroyed. He raised his free fist and began to desperately strike against the gas mask, again and again, in a futile attempt to damage the entity that had subdued him.
The Wallhammer, however, didn't flinch. His steel grip tightened even more around the legionnaire's wrist, the muffled crunches of his bones breaking in slow motion resonating in the room. A slight metallic growl escaped from the slits of his mask, the only indication of his relentless determination.
With an almost casual movement, the colossal warrior raised his shotgun with his free hand, the heavy barrel pointing directly at his enemy's head. A dull thud resonated throughout the place when the reinforced steel crashed against Marcus's helmet, the perfect angle for the force of the impact to twist his neck at a grotesque angle.
The sickening crunch of his spine breaking was drowned out by the dull thud of the lifeless body hitting the floor, the jaw hanging open in a grimace of pain frozen in time. The Wallhammer remained imperturbable, his weapon pointing towards the remains of the fallen while a sepulchral silence settled in the environment once again.
The Charger turned on his heels with an almost inhuman fluidity, his target acquisition systems scanning the environment for his remaining prey. A slight metallic growl escaped from the slits of his mask when he confirmed that the last of the imperial knights and the sorcerer had fled, abandoning their fallen comrades.
Through his thermal vision visor, the two heat signatures moved at full speed through one of the side corridors, their footsteps resonating in an irregular echo as they moved away from the scene of massacre. The Combine soldier didn't waste a moment, his shotgun firmly gripped as he advanced in pursuit of his escaped targets.
His heavy reinforced boots hit the floorboards with a dull thud, each of his movements a walking threat of steel and crushing force. As he turned one of the corners, the ominous silhouette of the Wallhammer was projected onto the cracked walls, his square shoulders swaying from side to side with each stride he took.
For Paullus and his only remaining companion, that vision was like coming out of their worst nightmares. Both ran without looking back, the sound of the boots chasing them like the echo of the hooves of death itself. Choked gasps escaped from their dry throats, terror becoming a cold embrace that chilled them to the bones.
"By all the gods! That demon cannot be stopped!" The imperial knight let out a choked cry, his eyes bulging with panic when the dark silhouette of the Wallhammer appeared at the end of the corridor.
Through the haze of irrational fear that clouded his mind, the figure of the Combine soldier distorted into something much more terrifying. His movements acquired a supernatural nuance, his heavy steps resonating like thunder in an eternal storm. The gas mask with its blue lenses became the eyes of a soulless monster, fixed on them with an icy and relentless gaze.
"Don't stop! Run! RUN!" Paullus's desperate cry resonated in the corridor when a new barrage of cyber-striking pellets burst against the walls, tearing wood splinters like the teeth of a voracious beast.
The sorcerer turned another corner, his legs beginning to give way to the superhuman effort. His lungs burned with each gulp of air he managed to suck in, his vision beginning to blur from the waves of panic that consumed him. Behind him, his legionnaire companion wasn't faring any better, his right leg leaving a crimson trail on the remains of carpet as he dragged himself across the floor.
Paullus barely had time to react when he found a door in front of him. Without stopping to think, he threw himself against it shoulder-first, the wood giving way under his weight to allow him to enter a small room and he closed it. He rolled across the dust-covered floor, his eyes dilated by adrenaline when he finally stopped against the opposite wall.
A roar resonated in the corridor when his fallen comrade was hit by another blast from the shotgun. The lifeless body collapsed in a bleeding heap, his face frozen in a grimace of absolute terror while the remains of his armor scattered across the floor.
Paullus held his breath, his ears attuned to the slightest sound that would betray the proximity of the demonic entity that had massacred them without any mercy. The air around him seemed to grow even colder when the heavy steps of the Wallhammer resonated ever closer, the metallic screech of his armor like the lament of tormented souls in the underworld.
A dark shadow slid under the door crack, grotesquely elongating down the hallway until it stopped right in front of the room where the terrified sorcerer was hiding. Paullus let out a choked moan, his body shaking uncontrollably as he gripped a mana stone with his sweaty fingers.
The door handle began to turn with a screech, the metallic sound tearing at the eardrums of the invader from another world like a monster's nails scratching wood. He huddled against the wall, his mind clouded by absolute terror, convinced that his last breath had come.
The sorcerer Paullus slid silently through the dark room, his steps muffled by the layers of dust accumulated on the floor. His bloodshot eyes scanned every corner with increasing paranoia, alert to the slightest indication of movement or sound that could betray the presence of his terrifying pursuer.
A trail of moisture descended serpentine down one of the cracked walls, the drops oscillating with each slight breath of the sorcerer. The peeling paint cracked around that patch of mold, small portions detaching to join the mantle of dirt that carpeted the floor.
With a cautious gesture, Paullus brought his hand to his mouth, containing even the slightest whisper that could betray him. His chest rose and fell in an erratic rhythm, each gulp of stale air burning in his lungs as if he were inhaling the flames of hell itself.
Finally, he spotted the rickety structure of a bed in the farthest corner of the room. He crawled towards it with renewed urgency, every fiber of his being screaming to find refuge from the horror that stalked him.
The springs of the antiquated bed creaked under his weight as he slid to hide in the gloom that reigned beneath the tattered mattress. Shreds of grime and lint floated in the air, swirling at the slightest current before settling on his sweat-soaked robe.
Paullus held his breath instinctively, his dilated pupils fixed on the shattered entrance of the room. Through that splintered wooden threshold, the Wallhammer's enormous boots became visible, each of his steps making the floor tremble in an ominous echo.
"Lord of Knowledge, eternal light that guides my steps in the search for truth..." The sorcerer's cracked lips moved in a barely audible whisper, raising a desperate plea to the god Elange. "I implore you, deliver me from this demonic threat and protect me under your wisdom..."
His body shuddered involuntarily when the colossal silhouette of the transhuman soldier entered the room, his heavy armor tearing splinters with each movement. The cyber-striking shotgun was gripped in his steel fist, the barrel swaying from side to side as the target acquisition systems scanned the environment.
Paullus's eyes widened when that weapon stopped in front of the bed, the Wallhammer's polarized visor emitting a slight flash when it detected him under the frame of springs and coils. A metallic click resonated like a gunshot in the prevailing stillness, the internal mechanism repositioning to open fire.
In a fraction of a second, the decision was made. Paullus gathered the last vestiges of his magical power, channeling his energy into a crimson sphere that began to form in his palm. Sparks of static energy swirled around the small fireball, emitting a growing hum.
The Wallhammer's hand emerged from the shadows, his steel fingers closing around the edge of the bed frame with devastating force. With a sudden movement that defied all delicacy, the entire bed was thrown aside with a thunderous roar.
The mattress burst in an explosion of springs and scattered filling when it crashed against the wall. A cloud of dust and lint floated in the air like a spectral mist, swirling around the sorcerer who had been exposed to the Wallhammer's impassive gaze.
The shotgun barrel aligned directly towards Paullus, a new metallic click resonating like the echo of a sentence. The sorcerer barely had time to react, his mind clouded by adrenaline when the devastating barrage burst forth with a thunderous roar.
Driven by an instinct born of years of training, Paullus rolled to one side at the very instant the blast of steel pellets swept through the place where he had been hiding. Wood splinters flew in all directions, one of them tearing a strip of cloth from his shoulder as he leaped to his feet.
His gaze met the cold polarized lenses of the Wallhammer, the sorcerer's determination clashing against the soldier's lethal efficiency in that suspended fraction of time. A cry of fury escaped his throat as he threw the sphere of power with all his remaining strength.
The tongues of crimson fire swirling around the Wallhammer's chest burst with the force of a concentrated explosion. The intense heat of imperial magic filtered through the cracks opened in the reinforced armor, partially melting the steel and titanium alloy into a viscous puddle that began to slide down his torso.
A muffled growl escaped from the slits of the gas mask when the shock wave shook the transhuman soldier, the internal stabilization systems barely compensating for the impact. Through the thermal vision filters, the area affected by the magical attack glowed in a scorching white tone, the suffocating heat filtering into the inner compartment of the armor.
Despite the evident damage suffered, the Wallhammer's resilience was undeniable. Before the last tongues of fire had completely dissipated, the soldier was already repositioning his weapon, the precision servomotors realigning the shotgun barrel towards his target with superhuman speed.
The polarized lenses of the gas mask fixed on Paullus's figure, the impassive gaze of the transhuman "entity" devoid of any emotion beyond pure determination. His reinforced legs flexed, propelling his mass of nearly half a ton in a relentless advance, each of his movements a walking threat of steel and crushing power.
The imperial sorcerer instinctively stepped back, his mind overwhelmed by the urgency to act swiftly before the balance tipped against him. Gathering the last vestiges of his magical power, he began to channel his internal energy, each word and gesture a harmonic symphony that resonated in the very fabric of reality.
Before his eyes, the essence of the spell began to take shape, the strands of magical energy intertwining in an increasingly complex pattern. This time it would not be a simple burst of fire that he would invoke; it would be something much more powerful, an attack capable of breaking the iron determination of that armored demon.
The air around him began to crackle with static electricity, the sparks of unleashed magical energy swirling in a vortex of uncontainable power. Paullus opened his eyes wide, his dilated pupils reflecting the glow of the spell taking shape in his outstretched palm.
A thunderous roar resonated off the cracked walls as the barrel of the reinforced shotgun burst in a roar of violence. The barrage of pellets pierced the air in an expansive cone, whistling through the environment like a swarm of bloodthirsty metallic bees.
In a fraction of a second, the decision was made. With a desperate gesture born of absolute terror, the sorcerer diverted his attention from the spell he was channeling, his hands moving at full speed as he conjured a protective shield.
The strands of magical power intertwined in a complex pattern, forming a translucent barrier that materialized just as the first pellets were about to reach their target. A piercing screech resonated in the environment when the reinforced steel collided with the surface of the shield, sparks swirling like fireflies in the night.
Paullus narrowed his eyes, his teeth clenched from the tension as he struggled to maintain the concentration that allowed him to reinforce the magical barrier with each new impact. However, his effort was doomed to failure even before it began.
The destructive power of that infernal weapon far surpassed the defensive capacity of any mid-level protective spell he could conjure. One of the last pellets pierced the shield with a sharp screech, its path unalterable like a burning arrow seeking its target.
A heart-wrenching scream escaped the sorcerer's lips when the explosive pellet impacted against his forearm, tearing off the limb in an explosion of torn flesh and splintered bone. The bubbling blood bathed his robe in a grotesque pattern, dark drops splattering his face contorted in a grimace of agony.
Paullus collapsed backward, his fingers clawing at the air in a futile attempt to cling to his lost limb. The pain consumed him, every nerve ending in his body screaming in a torment that defied all logic or reason. His vision blurred, the world spinning in a spiral of diffuse colors as the agony threatened to drag him into unconsciousness.
Even so, the Wallhammer advanced without stopping, each of his steps making the floorboards tremble under the weight of his reinforced armor. His dark silhouette was projected over the agonizing sorcerer when he stopped beside him, the barrel of his weapon pointing directly at his head.
Through thermal vision, the heat of Paullus's battered body glowed in red and orange tones, the strands of magic fading to a faint bluish glow that slowly vanished. A metallic click resonated as the shotgun mechanism repositioned, ready to discharge its final barrage at point-blank range.
Paullus parted his lips in a last mute plea, his terrified gaze reflected in the Wallhammer's polarized lenses as if in a mirror. In those final moments, the certainty that he had bitten off more than he could chew hit him with all its overwhelming force.
Regretful to the core of having become involved in that crusade against the world on the other side of the Gate, his mind filled with images of his loved ones in the Empire. His parents, his siblings, his masters in the Sorcerers' Guild, all of them paraded before his eyes in a chaotic procession of faces and memories.
The roar of the final shot resonated in Paullus's eardrums with the devastating force of thunder. The entire world seemed to fade into a blurry cloud of pain and confusion when the barrage of pellets impacted against his skull with inhuman violence.
The thin protection of bone and cartilage was no match for the destructive power concentrated in that lethal blast. The upper part of the sorcerer's skull burst in a grotesque explosion of brain matter and bone fragments, the remains of his gray matter splattering the cracked walls in a macabre pattern.
Paullus's inert body shuddered in an involuntary spasm before collapsing backward, his back hitting the ground with a dull thud as life escaped from his open eyes in a frozen grimace of absolute terror. A trickle of dark blood began to spread slowly under his shattered nape, mixing with the crimson pools that flowed from his severed stump.
The transhuman remained imperturbable, his colossal silhouette casting a dark shadow over the mutilated remains of the imperial sorcerer. Through the polarized visor, his systems scanned the body for signs of life, though the result was a mere formality.
When the last sign of life vanished from the readings, the transhuman soldier emitted a slight growl, the metallic sound escaping from the slits of his gas mask like the echo of a sentence.
"Overwatch, targets neutralized. Cleanup procedure completed. Area secured." His voice, distorted by the voice modulators, resonated in the charged environment, each word devoid of any emotion beyond pure efficiency.
With a fluid movement of his left hand, the Wallhammer detached the charred remains of his left shoulder pad, throwing the melted alloy pieces to the floor with a dull thud.
"Unit 742, priority for recovery of unknown elements detected. Proceed to inspect and secure the luminous anomaly near the neutralized target." Overwatch's distorted voice resonated in the Wallhammer's internal earpieces, the coordinating AI transmitting its orders concisely.
A slight metallic growl escaped from the slits of the Wallhammer's gas mask as he obeyed the received order. He moved with calculated steps through the remains of the battle, avoiding the pools of dark blood and pieces of destroyed furniture until he stopped next to Paullus's mutilated body.
There, almost hidden under the piece of torn cloth that previously formed part of the sorcerer's robe, a small object emitted a faint glow, pulsating with a slight hum that resonated in the Combine soldier's audio systems.
He crouched carefully, his enhanced joints emitting a metallic groan as the heavy armor flexed under its own weight. With a delicacy that contrasted with his imposing constitution, the Wallhammer's gloved fingers closed around the small artifact, extracting it from the pool of blood where it had fallen.
At first glance, it appeared to be a simple river stone, barely the size of a fist. However, the bluish glow that surrounded it and the faint hum it emitted indicated that it was an object of magical nature, possibly a relic.
A slight buzz indicated that the device was performing a preliminary scan of the stone, its systems analyzing the strange energy signature it radiated.
The Wallhammer examined it for a few more moments before storing it in one of the compartments of his utility belt. Then, without a word, he set in motion once again, returning along the same path that had led him to that point.
"Overwatch, anomalous object recovered and contained. Initiating procedure to track vital signs among friendly casualties."
Securing the finding in one of the compartments of his belt, the colossal soldier stood up to return to the place where the confrontation had begun. His heavy boots resonated on the cracked walls with a constant metallic tapping, the only sound that disturbed the sepulchral silence of the abandoned house. As he advanced, his thermal vision systems scanned the surroundings for more signs of danger, although everything indicated that the area had already been completely cleared.
Finally, he crossed the threshold that led back to the main living room, the same place where the battle had begun. There, scattered among the debris and the remains of destroyed furniture, lay the three charred bodies of the Civil Protection agents who had accompanied him on that mission.
The transhuman soldier stopped next to Yelena's corpse, his silhouette casting an elongated shadow over the woman's carbonized remains. Slowly, he knelt beside her, his gloved hand extending to remove some pieces of burnt wood that covered her face.
Behind the cracked gas mask, Yelena's features were barely recognizable, the skin blackened and cracked by severe burns. However, the slight movement of her chest as she breathed indicated that, against all odds, the woman was still clinging to life by a thin thread.
With a gentleness that seemed almost impossible in a being of his constitution, the Wallhammer's metal fingers pressed against Yelena's bruised neck, seeking signs of a pulse through the thickness of the protective armor.
A slight flash in his visor confirmed that, indeed, the woman still had vital signs, although her condition was undoubtedly critical. The soldier turned his gaze to the other two fallen agents, the carbonized remains of Dimitri and Vasili barely recognizable among the shattered pieces of their equipment and dried blood stains.
For them, there would be no possible salvation. The readings from the devices integrated into his armor confirmed it without any doubt; they were dead, with no detectable vital signs.
"Unit 355 with unstable vital signs. Requires immediate medical assistance," the transhuman soldier reported through the priority communication channel. "Requesting deployment of extraction team to my current position."
"Received, unit 742. Recovery and medical evacuation procedure on the way." The AI responded promptly, its words charged with the clinical tone typical of an artificial intelligence devoid of emotions. "Security priority at the scene of shield code 4-2-7. Proceed with the anomaly containment protocol until the arrival of the medical team."
The Wallhammer emitted a slight metallic exhalation upon receiving the new instructions. He stood up with a fluid movement, his gaze stopping on the pieces of paper scattered on the floor. The red ink inscriptions that previously glowed with a crimson glow were now faded and opaque, as if the magical energy that fed them had been extinguished.
Nevertheless, the soldier did not ignore them. He stooped to pick up the burned remains of those scrolls, carefully storing them in another compartment of his tool belt. With that task accomplished, his attention turned to Yelena's unconscious body.
He leaned once more next to Yelena's unconscious body, his reinforced arms sliding under the woman's armpits and legs to lift her from the floor with utmost caution. Despite the fragile appearance of her battered figure, the dead weight of the agent posed no challenge to the transhuman soldier's strength.
With measured steps that made the splinters crunch under his boots, the Wallhammer left the remains of the house, transporting his precious cargo to the outside. The cold afternoon air caressed his gas mask as he crossed the threshold, the rays of twilight light tearing flashes from his polarized lenses as he headed towards the APC parked in the undergrowth, its sliding doors at the rear opening at his approach.
The Wallhammer deposited Yelena in the cargo compartment with great care, making sure her body rested in a comfortable position on the surface of the soft seat. Then, he went back out of the transport and took up a vigilant position next to the open doors.
His expressionless gaze fixed on the surroundings while awaiting the arrival of the medical team. His heavy weapon was maintained in a firm grip, the weapon ready to respond to any new threat.
"Overwatch, awaiting medical team at my position," he transmitted in a neutral tone. "Anomalies recovered and contained. Initiating transmission of data collected during the incident."
A series of codes and figures began to flow from his systems to the combined forces communication network. Every detail, every record, every fragment of information was sent back to City 17 analysts for processing and evaluation.