Chapter 7: Wrath and Glory

"What's this, oh what's this? Hello? Heeeelllooo? Faust, can you hear me? It is I, the illustrious Iukari Desh, and I have accidentally landed myself in this weird city. I may have caused some harm from my crash, but they should be grateful I have reminded them to create point-defense systems, hee hee! I think I shall explore to my heart's content here, maybe learn the language for entertainment. Bye bye and I shall see you someday, Fausty!" Voxlog recording ended. Delete recording? Confirmed, Lord-Captain.

Parked alongside an abandoned dirt road was the Lucky 12, along with its passengers and their escort making a brief stop for much-needed respite. The land they were in had frosted over, as patches of snow clung onto the frozen grasslands.

Faust had done this on short notice simply because whatever pathogens the village contained were now starting to affect Jarrackus, Antoni, and Kazi, and they needed to be treated. Their hazard gear didn't seem to be very effective protection against the disease lurking in the air. All things considered, these effects were relatively mild.

However, the definition of mild for the Imperium of Man is completely different from what it should be counted for.

It—luckily—wasn't the same potential fate that had happened to the locals. Instead of rocks growing out of their bodies, some of their skin was simply opening, leaking a reddish black miasma across previously exposed flesh. They also had coughing fits where blood was added to the saliva or had the disposition to scratch at their skin heavily, bleeding it, but again, none of it had those black crystals. Pleasant.

Whether these symptoms were after-effects of exposure similar to massive doses of radiation made Faust wonder what else it could do, but he was not about to find that out. He'd let the techpriests experiment and give various reports on their efforts.

Jarrackus seemed to have gotten the worst of it. His left hand was constantly stained crimson and he seemed weaker overall from continuous blood loss. For Kazi, her eyes were incredibly irritated, to the point of slight blindness due to stubbornly refusing to wear goggles beforehand. Antoni suffered the least since he was covered up head to toe in clothing—as was standard for Guardsman in the 106th, but not conscripts—and only had a slight, bloody cough.

It didn't seem to be contagious either, as even Faust's life support system hadn't detected any pathogens in the air. Nor did it affect Otto or Stazia who were in the same vehicle, breathing the same air.

Speaking of Stazia, he wasn't sure why she in particular didn't get infected, as she was around the village, and though she was outside, those infectious particles were still in the air. Merek's and Clovis were much easier to dismiss, since they barely showed skin, and even then, they had put on hazardous gear. Whether it was due to sheer luck in Stazia's case, because she decided to stay outside, or that she regularly prayed for the Emperor's salvation—despite knowing the truth—was unclear. In either case, the fewer people affected, the better.

Faust grimaced, applying some bare-bones medicae trivia he "learned" from Sister Francine onto Jarrackus' hand. The medi-kits he had were effective, yet Faust didn't have the proper knowledge to truly apply them effectively. It'd be good enough for now, but they'd need to replace the gauze later, along with all the other ones.

"Sir… you think I'll live to see next week?" Jarrackus grimly asked, looking downward at the strips of gauze layered across his body.

Before Faust could answer, Kazi did it for him with a scoff, "Of course you'll bloody live, you grumwollip. I can barely see but I'm feeling fine as is."

Faust only stared at the annoying guardswoman, not understanding her stubborn logic or the Niflheim lingo. She had refused medical treatment, unlike Jarrackus, because it "wasn't like Niflheim's." The stupid girl would be the death of herself, to which Faust wouldn't mind all that much. Each day was becoming more troublesome in handling her, as he had to give orders directly; sometimes, she wouldn't listen. It was shifting from bothersome to problematic since Faust loathed when stupidity bore no semblance of kindness—which Kazi seemed more inclined to tax his patience.

Antoni had also refused treatment, but it was for far more noble reasons of making sure the Conscripts were taken care of first.

"What are you starin' at?" Kazi growled at Faust, causing him to politely look away with annoyance. Any day now…

"You'll live! Be tough, like Ogryn, and you'll be O-K!" Brogg reassured Jarrackus by flexing his muscles, nodding his head upward. Curiously enough, whatever was in the Guardsmen was also not affecting Brogg, as he came out healthy as could be. Faust summed that up to Ogryn hardiness, not batting an eye.

Neither did it affect Ome, yet that was likely because he was more metal than man. Faust's conclusion stemmed from Delta's stories about scrounging through heavily irradiated zones without so much as losing a strand of her ghostly hair.

"What the ton of muscle said," Antoni replied, coughing briefly and shaking away the filth. "This is just some planetary disease. There're worse diseases on the eastern fringes of Niflheim anyhow, this ain't nothin' special."

Faust stood up slowly, knowing he'd have to be forced to set up camp as well since they weren't in the condition to work.

…Wait a minute, no he wouldn't.

"Stazia," Faust started, causing Stazia to jolt in surprise, "Make yourself useful and start setting up tents for tonight. We're close to crash site 7, and I'd like us to be fully rested by tomorrow. Chop chop."

Stazia sighed, "Yes Sir Faust," and was already on her way to start pitching tents, helping Otto, Merek, and Clovis. Meanwhile, Brogg was standing guard near him, Ome was inspecting the vehicles, and Faust was doing what any good Noble would do—make sure others did the necessities for him.

Faust grumbled, seeing the massive shattered voidshield in the sky. He was starting to feel melancholic about his situation, knowing a distress signal might not reach out to anyone even if they tried. And if it was something else responding to that signal rather than the Imperium… well, that would be a spectacularly worse outcome.

At least tonight he'd get some rest. He took off his helmet, setting it down next to him as he sat on the Lucky 12's open back. Maybe the next day wouldn't be so bad.

Clang!

Around the scattered pieces of debris from the unanimously named "Falling City" was a relatively new mining camp; ragged tents and flag poles displaying a white double-headed eagle on it—with an empty star right under the necks—were spread throughout its community. Its banner was as red as the blood that was regularly drawn from these encampments.

Clang!

Though, calling it a community was laughable at best. Many people here, except for the Ursus Mining Enforcers, were forced to be here. Either they came here to work to death or they died on the spot, as to be an enemy of Ursus was to be nothing but living filth.

Clang, Clang, Clang!

Katya wiped away the sweat from her brow, lowering her pickaxe for a second. She'd been hitting this damn piece of scrap metal as large as a house for three hours now and it hadn't so much as dented. She could even see herself in the shiny reflection, her greasy black hair and maroon eyes being the most prominent. The next she could see was her sullen face, along with the numerous scars riddled across it from enduring the months of torment that piece of shit, Mikhail, had done to her. A fresh one was below her chapped lips, now a healing scab from yesterday.

"Get back to work, scum," Said an Ursus Enforcer who had noticed her break, slashing her back with his knife.

Katya staggered forward a bit, her hands clenching the pickaxe tighter as she could feel warmth dribbling down her spine. Now, she was deciding whether or not she would drive the pickaxe into this faceless Enforcer's skull, wanting to see death leak across his cloth mask and silvery visors. She grunted with a sigh as she went back to work, ultimately deciding against it, and continuing to hit this stupid piece of junk she was working on.

She hated this way of living.

Where was the life she had? Where she had baked fresh bukhanka from the comforting heat of her ovens? Why had the conversations with her customers, who were excited and hungry to eat, become cold and hostile as soon as they had discovered she had become Infected? Why did she have to suffer…

Then, the Infected Patrol trashed her shop, ridiculed her way of living, and dragged her away screaming for anyone to help her. Of course, no one sane helped Infected. The tense month of waiting that came after was the worst feeling Katya ever felt. Each day, another face in the prison was taken away, begging for their lives. Each time, they didn't come back, leaving her to wonder when she would be the next.

But, word had spread from the outside that something historical had happened, and soon enough, she was snagged with a few others. Only this time, she wasn't to be killed; instead, she wondered if it would be better to have been executed.

And then she discovered she could heal herself at the cost of feeling a bit worse after, her Oripathy intensifying as a result. She just had to heal her injuries quietly when she was beaten or sliced into so that she could stay alive the next day. It was all going great until Mikhail, the leading bastard of this camp, found out. No one wanted to get close to her after that, as her ties to the other Infected prisoners soon dwindled. She had become a living attraction to a place where being unnoticed brought another day of survival.

He had ruined her face, her body, her very image, laughing all the while each time she rose to continue living. Forced to heal herself each time on the off chance she'd be put to death for not being able to complete her work. The insult to injury was she could only heal the bleeding, not the bruising. She didn't know why it only applied to that, but she did know that it was spending her years of living, as she could feel herself grow weaker each time. It didn't help that her shoulder was starting to crystallize more, as the Orignium that pierced through it a month ago now became enlarged. She was Mikhail's plaything, someone who couldn't be executed since she had become entertainment to the Enforcers.

Katya snarled at the gargantuan box-like scrap metal, her ursine ears twitching. Fuck Ursus. Fuck Mikhail. And fuck everyone and everything. She wasn't going to endure another week of this without completely losing it. Either she died in a week from a hail of knives and crossbow bolts, or… well, she died killing Mikhail. Either outcome was death, but her life as it was now wasn't truly living.

Katya worked away the night, scheming the entire time. She knew the patrol patterns, which officers would be working, and which she could sneak away from. One day…

Faust wasn't sure what he was expecting as Lucky 12 and its escort had driven towards the colder areas of the wasteland, but it definitely wasn't an encampment around site seven.

It was snowing too, but the smoke trails they witnessed earlier from a distance were conclusive that people were indeed out there. They were probably scavengers, coming to take apart what was once grand. That bothered Faust quite a bit, but he couldn't blame them since he would have—and had done in the past—the same thing.

However, this was also his ship that they were taking from. He wasn't about to let some unsophisticated humans on some forgotten planet—in what was likely beyond the Imperium's view—just take his things.

If he couldn't talk his way into convincing them to leave, then he'd buy their loyalty. And if he couldn't buy their loyalty, he'd intimidate them to run. And if that didn't work, then… he'd have to get difficult.

Delta wasn't here; she couldn't be. From the looks of it, this seemed more to be part of a broken cargo hold rather than savior pods. Faust uselessly prayed to the Emperor on habit, hoping that the largest piece was still pristine behind multiple locks, the last likely being a servitor needing a keyword.

Faust reached for his vox again, knowing these primitives had likely noticed their distant approach. "This is Captain Faust, Merek, slow down with me. We don't want to scare them into fighting us when I can likely talk our way into clearing them out."

Merek scoffed through the vox, "You sure Cap'n? I trust your judg'ment but these are backwater folk we're dealing with. For all we know, they prob can't speak a lick of Gothic."

"We'll cross that bridge when we get there, but for now, you'll be relying on my voice. I have handled this kind of thing before. This will not be anything new to my experiences."

"If you say so Cap'n. Guess we'll cov'ah ya."

Faust could see a gathering make their way out of the campsite, holding an assortment of primitive, yet very human-like weapons. They held fine crossbows, steel clubs, and sharpened swords, already prepared to engage in combat.

Their clothes were of woolen design and covered with militarized body armor. Faceless and intimidating too, wearing some type of mask or visor over their face. It was… unique. It almost reminded him of the civilian clothing worn on Niflheim's cool regions rather than its wintery hellscapes—at least, for the brief period he was there. From their stances, they were likely trained in combat with the weapons they held. While that was potentially dangerous, he wagered that a lasgun would still kill them as quickly as anyone else.

Faust eased the brakes into slowing down, directing Lucky 12 to roll to a brief stop. He got up from the driver's seat, facing everyone in Taurox's seats. Brogg continued to stay on the stubber, but Faust knew he would be listening.

"This is what will happen," Faust said, putting on his helmet. "You will all accompany me as I negotiate…" Faust trailed off, thinking about what to add to the sentence. He opted for a shrug, as that honestly was the best thing he could have said. "If things go south, well, Brogg, if you would kindly explain what you do when that happens?"

Brogg nodded eagerly with a hearty chuckle, looking towards the others as he cracked his knuckles, "We smush 'em like bugs!"

"Well said. My compatriots, let's see if we can reclaim what rightfully belongs to the Clad in Ire."

Faust hopped out of the hatch on the side, dusting himself off to make him look more presentable. The rest quickly followed suit outside while Otto stayed snoozing inside the vehicle. They formed a tightly knit perimeter around Faust, ready to engage at a moment's notice.

The area around this entrance had a bunch of snow mounds, and whether that was snow covering rocks, or only big piles of white was another unknown factor to these humans. They also had some cover, in the form of guard towers, walls, or metal scraps of fallen debris.

"You two," Faust said, looking at Merek and Clovis, "Hold your position. Don't aim at them, but be ready to shoot them if they try anything stupid."

The both of them saluted immediately, as they slightly relaxed while they stood on guard.

"Stazia, grab me the Elucidator just in case, oh, and also my cloak," Faust ordered. Stazia complied with a dutiful nod, going to the back right as Brogg crawled out.

"Thank you," Faust said, being handed the translation device, and attaching it to the belt on his hip. He put on his cloak, the pitch-black complimenting his crimson armor, as he only put it on for dramatic flair. He nodded to himself, pleased that he could feel it billow in the wind. Brogg finally trudged over, hugging close to the right of Faust, shield already in hand, while Stazia kept towards the back.

Faust made his slow approach, left hand on the pommel of his power sword, the other one hanging by his side. Each step he made was perfectly dignified and trained to announce an air of nobility. With his head held high, he made his way over to the gathering.

They seemed to stiffen up, especially when the eight-foot-tall menace of an Ogryn stomped towards them. It was like they hadn't seen such a stack of brawniness before, yet they bravely stood their ground.

Faust held his fist up high, letting his entourage know to stop moving. The scavengers nervously glanced at one another, their grips tightening on each weapon they held.

Faust looked back slowly, eyeing Kazi so as not to make any trigger-happy shots, before taking a few steps forward.

One of the primitive humans held up a crossbow directly at him, taking a step forward to meet him, "Vy vtorglis' na territoriyu kompanii Ursus. Nemedlenno izlozhite svoye delo, ili vy budete arestovany za oskverneniye nashey strany?"

Faust blinked at the completely alien gibberish.

What?

Oh for the love of… they truly didn't speak a lick of Gothic. Emperor's teeth, that had to be the best surprise he could ask for. Faust casually reached for his Elucidator at his side, absentmindedly fumbling for his translation device.

"On tyanetsya za oruzhiyem!" Shouted one of the humans in the group, before idiotically firing a crossbow bolt at Faust. Faust watched in slow motion as it completely missed his helmet, going wide to the left of him, before a crunch of flak armor accompanied by a yelp of pain from Jarrackus' voice became the result.

Faust instantly scowled in fury, and with a blur of motion, grabbed his gun in favor of simply shooting the idiot who hurt his men—not even attempting to confirm Jarrackus' injury.

His auto-pistol jolted upwards, a bullet leaving the chamber, and soon finding the head of one of these savages. Their head exploded like a vira-melon being smashed apart by a Thunder-hammer, with bits of viscera staining the pristine snow.

Life decided it had to be difficult, didn't it?

Katya was currently eating the gruel she was provided, sitting cross-legged on a box of salvaged materials. She, along with a few other prisoners, were being watched by three Ursus scumbags who were forced to monitor them eating.

There was some type of commotion happening at a side entrance of the camp, with a large gathering of Enforcers going to investigate it. Something about unexpected guests, from what she could understand.

She sighed, as it was probably another despicable Ursus noble making sure their claim of salvage was properly being taken care of.

Katya clenched her fists, staring daggers at her meal. She was close, so very close, to killing Mikhail. She had everything all planned out. She had the shiv stuffed away in the rags on her side, the patrols properly laid out, and when and where Mikhail would be. All she needed was a proper slip in their attention spans.

Unfortunately, it couldn't be today, as Mikhail had also gone with the others. That slimy bastard was probably hiding in the very back of the group, but he had enough protection to discourage an assassination.

She finished her bowl, placing it aside, slumping over as she rested for a brief moment. She breathed in slowly before her eye twitched in anger as an Enforcer trudged right up to her. This fucker…

The Enforcer smacked her on the head, "If you're done eating, then get back to wor–"

A sudden small boom stopped his words, causing him to look to his side from where the noise was. The sounds of agonized screams caught everyone's attention, along with some other high-pitched whines that sang alongside the booms.

Someone from a nearby guard tower stumbled out, a crossbow already in hand. "WE'RE UNDER ATTACK!" The Enforcer shouted, raising the alarms as he frantically rang a bell. He rang it twice before the entire tower exploded from an electrical blast hitting it. It had so much force that it completely collapsed the building, crumbling inwards.

Oh shit, this place is getting attacked? Perfect.

The Enforcer in front of her turned to face her, "Return to your tents, now!"

He tried to pull out his sword.

Instead, Katya swiftly tackled him to the ground, grabbed her shiv, and drove the sharp piece of metal scrap she had made into his soft neck. If she had to guess, It was pretty effective as he choked on his blood, clutching his throat.

Katya quickly snatched his sword from him, swiftly getting up as she put her shiv away. An arrow hit her arm, causing her to cry out in pain as she clutched the wound.

She looked at the crossbowman, smirking. Before her attacker could fire another bolt at her, a pickaxe crashed into his skull, toppling him to the ground.

The elderly Infected prisoner grabbed his pickaxe from the corpse, raising it high in the air, "Revolt comrades! They are distracted! Escape while you can!"

Katya rose to her feet, as the third guard took a step back from the mass of prisoners now facing him. She plucked the arrow from her shoulder, crushing the bolt in her bloody hands. She smiled devilishly, gripping her sword as she pointed it at him, "Better run, scumbag."

The man panicked, unsheathing his sword to cut down a few prisoners. He was able to kill one prisoner. He wasn't able to kill the seven more that ran at him with vengeance for all the mistreatment they had endured.

She grinned, seeing him being ripped apart by mining equipment and frenzied prisoners, now in the mood to kill. Funny, how they decided now was the time to rebel after she had taken the first steps to do it. Where was this fervor when others tried long before her? It soured her mood completely…

…Where was she? Right… Mikhail.

Katya placed her hand on the wound in her arm, hearing the chaos now spreading throughout the camp. At least it was enjoyable that she would be done with this hell soon. A soft, warm, green glow emitted from her hands, the wound closing and leaving only a trace of a cut. It was going to be a rush job again, but she only needed to stop the bleeding.

She gripped her sword tighter, making her way through the battlefield of a mining camp. She thought the blade in her hands would be heavier, but it seemed that all that time using the pickaxe paid off. Well… somewhat. She was still a bit starved and weakened, but some muscle was better than no muscle. That, or perhaps her bloodlust and determination were helping her tremendously.

Katya hefted the sword to her shoulder as she walked, and found an Enforcer's back turned away from her—an easy target. They weren't moving, staring off at the open gates where the sounds of a battle waged. She shrugged to herself as she raised her blade high, ready to strike him down for being an easy kill before she was tackled to the ground.

"You'll die here, scum!" The Enforcer atop her shouted, spitting onto her face as they tried to drive a knife into her chest. Katya grunted, struggling to keep the blade from digging into her skin.

"Fuck right off, smelly whore…" Katya growled from the intoxicating fumes of alcohol polluting her scent but focused more on staying alive as she used all her might to keep the knife from digging. The manic grin on the woman's face pissed her off more, as she was getting ready to knee her in the sweet spot.

A red beam of light flashed, going into the right side of the woman's head, and going out the other. Katya widened her eyes at the sudden death, as the life in the Enforcer's eyes began to dull. The corpse toppled on top of her, but with a sudden shove, she freed herself.

She stood up in a flash and looked where her original target was gazing. He still stood silently, not moving a muscle in a horrified daze.

"The fuck?" She whispered to herself, watching a massacre like no other play out.

Not once in Katya's wildest dreams did she think people could pin the Ursus forces like they were average bandits. A hail of red lasers, nothing like that of the rumored Columbian ones, were continuously firing from a vehicle that looked like a buggy. She had never seen such rapid-fire weaponry in her life, but they were doing a damn fine job at distracting the Ursus forces.

Katya watched on as that same blast of blue electricity from the guard tower fried a couple of Enforcers hiding behind scrap metal, ignoring their cover as it dusted them into nothing. She winced, seeing that they were wiped out in a few seconds. It came from what looked to be a ridiculously armored car, the giant blue box on a turret getting ready to fire a second shot.

One of these foreign combatants was massive. His muscles bulged, wrapping a massive hand on one of the lucky few who had engaged them in melee by the skull. Though, by lucky, Katya had meant they had survived being shot at, as dozens of bodies were already in the icy grave. The muscled man, larger than any Sarkaz brawler, slammed the enforcer against his shield, crumpling him like a can before tossing him aside.

He uproariously laughed, holding his shield at his side, speaking in an unintelligible language that Katya couldn't identify but had to be a provoking challenge of combat. It almost sounded like a mix between Lateran and Victorian, but it was too weird and smooth to even make out.

Katya's jaw dropped as an arrow, quite literally, ricocheted off the large man's muscles. He continued to laugh it off, before shoving another Enforcer down with a shield bash, and stomped with the full weight of his body on the Enforcer's torso. His large boot viciously sunk in, with the hands of the victim who desperately tried to remove the weight flopping lifelessly to the ground.

Another was completely clad in crimson-colored armor, wearing a black cloak that was incongruous to the snow, and dueling one of the Enforcers. This particular Ursi was using a giant mace, and as he swung, the crimson man's sword simply sliced through the Originium steel as if it were cloth, and then bisected the Enforcer. His bottom half fell forward, while his torso was kicked away.

While the others in this group of attackers were masked or armored, using weapons reminiscent of Columbia or Laterano, she couldn't make out any racial identities on them. She did, however, know without a doubt the living golem was not any race she'd heard or known of. Or maybe he actually did have some Sarkaz in him, but instead was a much rarer species like the Wendigos in Northern Ursus.

Katya knew right away that being in that fight meant certain death, so she scrambled away from the openness of her area in favor of hiding behind cover. She'd book it as soon as she sliced open Mikhail's throat.

She weaved through prisoners fighting off an Enforcer, continuing on the trail she was following up. She knew the exact size of boots he wore, the treads on them, and how deeply they pressed in the snow. How could she not? Katya had always needed to clean away the blood on them and polish them, otherwise she'd get them dirty again from being kicked half-to-death.

Katya growled, picking up her pace to make sure he wouldn't escape her wrath. A few Enforcers stood in the way, accidentally blocking her path as they tried to reinforce the side entrance. One of them was even a Caster, as his hooded figure was billowing in the snow and ash of the campsite. They faced each other for a brief moment, tensing up. The Enforcers clearly wanted to prioritize their own and weren't trying to pick a fight. Katya's rage for them said otherwise, as she charged at them with a fury like no other.

She ducked under a bolt that flew at her, rolled away from the Caster's spray of fire, and jumped over a dead prisoner. Katya used the momentum to bring her sword up as she fell, hitting one of the Enforcers—female from how her build was shaped—who brought up a shield to block it.

Katya immediately let go of the sword, grabbed her shiv, and stabbed her enemy in the gut. The female Enforcer spurted out blood with a wheezing cough, before being grabbed by the raging Infected to shield herself from the scorching flames being directed her way. Katya could feel the heat from her makeshift shield, as she charged through fire, rushing the Caster while the woman she held screamed from being burnt alive.

The crossbowman tried to bring up their sword but was unsuccessful when Katya tossed the smoldering body at them. It knocked him to the ground, completely unconscious from the strength of the throw as a full body smacked into his chest. Katya raised her hands to protect her face as more flames started to scorch her. She clenched her teeth, charging through the cinders, and snatched the Caster's Arts unit out of his hands. She snapped it like a twig, glaring daggers at the Caster, parts of her skin currently burning and reeking of charred flesh.

He slowly showed his hands in surrender, before his lights were knocked out by her punch. Katya shook her hand from the pain, seeing a tooth buried deep in her knuckles. She winced, pulling it out with a growl and throwing the incisor away. She wasn't going to let him live because of how much damage he had caused. Katya raised her foot, before dropping it with as much force as she could on his neck. She heard a satisfying snap and nodded to herself with a grim smirk.

Afterward, she limped away, pressing onward. Katya didn't bother to heal, only being fueled by adrenaline and sheer hatred. She stumbled over a mound of snow and fell to the ground, dousing the flames using the snow. It felt like needles pricking at her raw, scorched skin, but Katya managed to pick herself back up as she made it to Mikhail's tent.

She found it perfectly intact a minute later—despite the state the camp was in. It was so pristine. So posh. So… despicable. Katya ripped open the tent flap with murder in her soul, entering Mikhail's tent.

Inside was a table, a map of the local territory still on it, and a cup of coffee still brewing hot. In the far corner, his damn bed was both shoddily made and an unkempt mess—being a mattress on a flimsy frame. There was also a box that contained some of his things, such as boot polish, various knives so sharp they cut skin from a single touch, and whatever other junk he kept that Katya didn't pay that much attention to.

On the far end of the tent was the bastard himself, packing his things. He was… running? How much of a fucking coward did you have to be to let your friends die while you escaped!

The sound of the tent flap harshly opening alerted him, and he glanced back, eyes widening at the sight of Katya. He slowly stood up, having that fucking smile he always wore on that purple locks of hair. His golden eyes sneered at her, while his ursine ears twitched, "Ah, Katya, how unexpected. I suspect you're the reason why the camp is in disarray?"

"I'm going to kill you, bastard…" Katya replied, stepping closer to the table.

Mikhail scoffed, waving a dismissive hand, "Come now, there's no need for violence. I was simply doing what I had to. I kept you alive all this time. And now you want to throw that away? Here, I'll let bygones be bygones, and allow you to walk."

"Like hell that'll happen!" Katya roared, shaking in fury, "I didn't come all this way to get your fucking permission to leave. You're dying today."

"That's quite a shame," Mikhail said, unclipping his electrified Arts mace from his hilt. "I still had use for you, but I suppose all good things come to an end. Let's just—"

Katya snarled as she jumped towards the center, kicking the table at him. The wooden furniture flew through the air, before being smashed apart by Mikhail's weapon. He grinned momentarily, before ducking under Katya's knife swing.

Mikhail hit her in the ribs with a punch from his free hand, expecting her to fall. Instead, his face found an uppercut, causing him to trip backward.

He swung wildly, blinded as his brain still recovered from the blow. Katya turned away, grabbed the steel frame of the nearby bed with both her hands, and lifted it above her head. The sudden shadow caused him to cower, shielding himself with his mace.

Katya swung the bed, flinging him out of the tent as it tore a hole through its side.

Mikhail slammed his mace at the ground, kicking up powdery frost to stop himself from tumbling more. He dusted himself off, about to retort, before getting slammed by a bed thrown at him.

He coughed as he was spread across the ground, trying to stand up as fast as he humanly could. Katya didn't let it happen, as she jumped onto his torso, stabbing the arm that he favored to the ground.

"GRAH!" Mikhail yelled, throwing a punch with his left hand.

Katya caught it in her right hand, twisting it, then bending it as she decided how she was going to kill him. She grabbed the Oripathy lesion growing out of her shoulder, snapping it off with a yell of agony and rage, before stabbing him in the side.

His horrified expression at the action gave the Infected Ursine some glee.

"What.. have you fucking done to me?" Mikhail gasped, blood spitting from his mouth.

"Made you an Infected, asshole," Katya lied through her clenched teeth, continuing to terrify him. She knew that was one of the ways Oripathy spread… or at least she thought. Maybe she was a rare case when she scratched herself on the piece that damned her to this existence, but she wasn't a doctor. It didn't matter, Mikhail wouldn't live to see it.

"I'll kill you!" Mikhail yelled as he tried to strangle her with one hand.

"Same…" Katya choked through the tight clench on her throat, before whaling on his face.

With each subsequent punch, Mikhail's grip on her lessened, until it completely loosened. But she didn't stop there. She continued to stay atop, pummeling him over and over again. Blood started to fly, staining more of the snow around them, as she mushed up his once good-looking face into nothing more than a bloody pulp.

She threw one last, final punch, causing a singular wet smack to be heard in the proximity of where she was. Everything was quiet around her as she caught her breath, seeing the filthy results of her work. His face was completely gone, all that was left was ripped skin and free-flowing blood. For the brief moments he was alive, he was nothing more than an Infected like her; Living scum.

Katya studied the palms of her hands, each one being completely drenched in viscera. Her eyes drooped lower, feeling too tired to stay awake. It was over. She was free… she was finally free…

She let out a heartless laugh as she slowly stood up, wiping away a loose tear. Everything in her body felt like it was simultaneously on fire and had icy pins and needles stabbing into her. She turned around hearing crunching in the snow.

Katya was expecting another Infected prisoner or Enforcer to appear behind her.

Instead, the man in crimson armor faced her. In one hand was a sword so beautiful it was likely a fortune, with not even a drop of blood on the blade. It had to be worth more than her life at the current moment. On the other was what looked to be a large pistol, with some type of blocky container under the barrel. The two golden slits for visors peered at her, showing only her pained reflection.

Katya tried to grumble a sentence as she accepted whatever fate had in store for her. No words came out, fainting from exhaustion and pain before she could utter anything.

Hey, so I live. Yippee! That being said, upload times will definitely be on the slower side, which is... at the very least an update twice a month, probably 3-4, no promises. Space Marine 2 hype has been getting to me after Helldivers 2's... entire thing. I just hope its good. Additionally, I hope you Dokutah's are ready for Lucent Arrowhead, cause that's coming up Sep 5th. Wallets will cry, we have no time to recover.

Aight, you–readers who actually read the AN questions–know the drill. Response time.

Lieutenant Gate: Hey, I was just thinking that. Jokes aside, y'all have no idea the amount of prep work I've gotta put in on lore stuff. I thought making humans not affected would be boring, but I also thought giving them Arts would go against the lore since R6 crew hadn't (However Rathalos from MH did during the event if you were there for it, having Originium clinging to its scales. But eh, it's not human; who cares, right?). So, why not simply do the secret third option which is "radiation" adjacent, as in, get the hell away from it.

Evernesx: Red Originuim is and isn't an exploding barrel from hit trope, "Exploding Barrels." What it actually is named is: Active raw Originium, which isn't technically in the wiki. It's in the Reserve A1 manhua. I'll just say what it is since you've kinda gotta dig for it. Active raw originium is incredibly unstable and pretty much a ticking time bomb–literally. You could hit it with your fist and it'd probably explode. Hitting it with a concentrated blast of Arc energy designed to take down vehicles? Biiiig boom. This is different from just Inert raw Originium, which was also what they found. That just gives Terrans the magic rock cancer, and for humans, there isn't actually a recorded case. Terrans aren't humans, even though they refer to themselves as humanity. But this is fan fiction, so refer to what Originium does to humans on the previous response.

Next up, see, I thought about doing Originium as warped based, but there's one problem with that. It's a huge spoiler I won't get into but let's just say someone did a little bit of trolling in regards to it, so I went against that thought process because of the heavily implied lore. That being said, will Originium as well as Arts be able to interact with psykers and vice versa? That's for you to find out later in the story.

One last note. Fellas, I have an outline for this story (a conclusion and the bits to it), and while its one of the roughest and shortest ones I've ever written, it's definitely there. The words and ideas are already flowing, and I've got plans. Whether I stick with the chapter amount I've decided is up to my feelings on if I think it's rushed. Maybe I'll do a sequel. Maybe. Tune in next time, Roseblade out!