E1M12 Cont

It was hot. It was cold.

He felt hot. He felt cold.

The Marine raced down a pitch-black inferno with shotgun in hand. He was running desperately low on ammo and his armor was a tattered mess hanging on his shoulders.

“Raaaagh!”

An imp leapt at him but it wasn’t like the other imps he’d fought. It was slimmer, less armored, with a noticeably protruding chest and ember strands hanging from its scalp like hair. A female imp.

Get away!

The Marine punched the she-demon away and held the monster down with his foot before placing the end of the shotgun barrel in its mouth and firing. POWW!

“Sqeeee!”

A Pinky squealed from the shadows and bullrushed at him, its charge causing the supple fleshy portions of its feminine form to bounce within their armored coverings. The Marine fired the shotgun but his buckshot only hit thick shell.

There was only one way to beat a Pinky. He leapt over the charging demon at the last moment to have it slam into the rocky outcrop behind him as he drew his chainsaw and forced it into the demon’s backside.

“ REEEEECCCHHH!”

He sawed with the buzzing blade as it ate through flesh, shell, and bone to release wide spurts of blood and other fluids. In, out, in, out.

At last the Pinky fell silent and limp at his feet in a foul pool of its own fluids. The Marine wiped the blood and sweat from his face and raised his gaze to behold the form of a female Hell Knight, the Hellfire in her claws illuminating her muscular form. The Marine dropped his empty shotgun and chainsaw and drew a massive rocket launcher, holding the lengthy weapon in front of him as he aimed it at the demon.

“ RAAAWWWRRR!!” The monster charged at the Marine, and he followed suit. She tossed one and another fireball at him but he ducked left and right to avoid their searing paths while formulating a plan of attack. Only one rocket left, and Hell Knight armor was too thick to break with such a measly attack.

Except in one place.

The Hell Knight roared and drew her burning claws in preparation to tear the Marine to shreds, but he looked down at the one spot he could possibly target to defeat the demon. The rocket launcher was never meant to be used in a close-quarter situation, but if the firing barrel was inside the demon, the danger of self-damage should be minimal.

“ RAAAWWWRRR!!”

He readied to dropkick the demon and thrust his rocket launcher into her when suddenly there was a silver gleam and the Hell Knight crumbled dead at his feet, her body sliced into ribbons by impossibly thin and sharp claws. He skidded to a halt and gazed in confusion when he heard it.

“Ha ha ha ha!”

His blood running cold, the Marine aimed the rocket launcher into the shadows but couldn’t see anything. There were soft slinking sounds, echoes of high-pitched giggling, but no movement.

“ Hah hah hah hah hah!”

Click. The Marine placed his finger on the trigger and exercised every modicum of self-restraint to keep himself from pulling it. His hands were shaking, his heart hammered in his chest, and his legs were white-hot pillars of stone that refused to move.

“ Ha ha ha ha ha!” The giggling figures finally emerged. Roughly a dozen crawling atop the rock on their scaly hands and feet before standing up to reveal the shapes of impossibly beautiful human women. Long white hair cascaded on their shoulders and red arrowhead tails twirled from their backs. Their violet eyes gleamed with desire beneath curved ebony horns, and their vivid crimson lips parted to reveal pearly white fangs and hissing tongues. Apart from the claws and scales across their arms and legs, their youthful bodies were bare and covered with soot, sweat, and human blood.

“Hey, boy…” One of the Succubi whispered with a voice like silk. “ What’s a human doing deep down in the underworld? Hell is no place for a mortal to be.”

“Unless you want to be here. Ha ha ha!”

“Are you looking for the devil? Then I’m your girl…”

They were surrounding him. He flicked the rocket launcher across their ranks but they made no sign of backing down.

“ My, my. A tough guy, aren’t you? Heh heh, just how I like them.

Unless, you’re bluffiiiiiing…”

A Succubus snarled from behind and he flicked around as they began to circle him, crawling on all fours like a pack of hyenas.

“Don’t be scared, we’re not going to kill you. Heh heh, that’d be no fun!

Mortals are such fun playthings. The men especially…”

“Your mortality makes me want to hurt you, to drown you in pain,” a Succubus enticed with a fervorous smile, tightening a thin whip in her hands. “ Let me strangle you, please?”

“The smell of your sweat, your blood, your seed! It’s driving me crazy!”

One of the Succubi leapt at him and he turned the rocket launcher but the demon knocked the barrel upwards and the rocket soared harmlessly into the ember sky as she sank her teeth into his neck. The Marine grit his teeth in pain and struck the demon with the barrel, but she was only thrown off and gracefully landed unharmed on all fours.

“Oh, you’re so rude!” She exclaimed as she licked his blood staining her lips with her fingers. “ And so tender, ha ha ha ha!”

“ Let’s play, won’t you? Let’s play, until we decide to make dog food out of YOU!”

Another Succubus pounced at him and kicked him in the stomach into the arms of another two who began tearing his armor off. He struggled violently and punched at the demons to try and fend them off, but his attacks seemed to have no effect as the Succubi only flinched and cackled from his futile attempts.

“Come on, Marine! You can do better than that!”

“Don’t resist, you know you love this torment! You’ve been cold and alone for so long, I’ve got something inside that’ll warm you up! Ha ha ha!”

“Choke me, baby! Slap my face, grab my horns! Rip and tear!

Rip and tear my guts!”

With a heart that seemed to beat out of his chest and a mind driven blank with desperation, the Marine focused as much strength he could into his next punch, throwing back the Succubi with a burst of crimson energy as they cackled and flew through the air with minimal damage. He took the opportunity to rush to his feet and bolt into the darkness, the remains of his armor crumbling off as he heard scampering and clawing footsteps behind him.

“Oh, you’re terribly wild!”

“I want to tear you apart!”

There was movement to his left and right. Glancing to the side, the frenzied Marine spotted the Succubi deftly and nimbly leaping across the rocky columns as they effortlessly kept up with him.

Snap! Something cracked through the air and the Marine jerked sharply back, a Succubus’ leather whip wrapped tight around his neck. With an ecstatic snarl, the creature pulled the whip and threw him to the ground before leaping on top of him.

“Come on, don’t be shy. Do it with me just one time.

Is it the horns that scare you? If you want…” The Succubus shook her head and morphed her horns into a spiked halo. “ I’ll be your angel. Come here, and let me send you to paradise.”

He tried to throw her off but the demon pressed her body against his and pinned him to the ground. Moments later the rest of the pack crowded around him and gripped his limbs so he wouldn’t escape, fangs pressing lightly against his fingers.

No, no! Why was he so weak? Where had his strength gone?!

“ You know you want this,” a Succubus urged beside him. “You want to split her in half, don’t you?”

“Bend her over! Make her scream!”

“Fuck me, Marine,” implored the one atop him. “ Fuck me till you make me bleed.”

He could feel fingers beginning to spread across his whole body as two hands gripped his mouth and forced it open.

“ You like fighting, don’t you? You like violence. Well, love and war are two sides of the same coin, wouldn’t you agree?

Two souls enraptured in passion, their destinies entwined in the throes of violence. Opposed yet united, rising in fury until the sweet climax of victorious conquest.

So let’s make love, Marine. Let’s make war. Let’s make sweet, loving war to each other.”

“Ha ha ha! I’ll burn your fingers one by one!”

The Succubus grinned and spread her mouth fully open from ear to ear, revealing a wide drooling jaw with wicked fangs and a long rapacious tongue.

“I’ll set you on fire, Marine. I’ll suck you dry and leave your drained corpse to rot in Hell.”

AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!

The Marine woke up from the nightmarish memory releasing a roaring psychic blast analogous to screaming.

He shivered and yet he was drenched in sweat. His body burned. His skin, his head, his loins, his chest. Something blazed within him out of control, a burning desire like the very fires of Hell.

FUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCKKKKK!!

Sounds of commotion rumbled through the walls of his chamber. He heard the confused muttering of other beings from the Jericho gathering outside his door when it suddenly opened and Valeria rushed in.

“By ze Imperator!”

The Hyperborean medic entered the chamber to find the Marine crouching on the floor beside his bed, retching and convulsing in agony but his empty stomach yielding nothing.

“Slayer- Aah!” She rushed forward and laid her hand on the Marine’s shoulder but swiftly pulled it back, her fingers already welting from the contact.

“Gods above, you’re burning up. Can someone help me?!” She turned to the mob gathering outside the doorway. “You and you! Help me carry him! He’s in pain!”

Two aliens, a Sangheili Arbiter and a Turian Ranger, entered the chamber and lifted a delirious Marine onto their shoulders as Valeria cleared a path through the mob. The aliens groaned from the contact but their armors resisted the Marine’s feverishness.

“Get out of ze vay , out of ze vay , move! Ve have to take him to ze healing enclave! Hold on, Slayer!”

The Slayer’s vision was blurred and his chest felt tight, making it difficult to breathe. The two taller aliens half-carried, half-dragged him across fleeting corridors, through flashing teleporters, and past leering faces. He was glad the helmet remained on his face.

After what seemed an eternity, the rustling of bushes beneath his guides’ feet and the vibrant smell of greenery in his nose woke him up. Valeria and the two aliens were carrying him through a dark nighttime forest, stars and moonlight shining through the treetops.

No, not a real moon. Not real stars. Simulated. Still…in Hell.

His feet splashed across running water and the two aliens gently lowered him on his back into a cool stream, the water steaming and hissing on contact with his feverish body. Valeria bent down and poured something into a port on his helmet’s mouthpiece and into his gasping mouth. Holy water.

Ohhhhhhhh…His fever began to fade and his body slowly cooled down, washing away his frustration and leaving him spent but clear-headed.

“ Aeu chu?” He could hear the Sangheili ask.

“No idea,” came the reply from the Turian as the two aliens splashed through the water and climbed out the river.

“ Ei slee hwah.”

“I know. I was in the middle of running calibrations.”

“What happened?” The voice of the Warden sternly asked from above the bank.

“He suffered a night terror. I have it under control,” replied his medic.

“That did not seem ‘under control.’”

“He is in great distress. This is a natural symptom of someone vith his experiences-”

“I’ve seen the symptoms of those afflicted with suffering! This was not it!

If you are hiding anything from me, Vril-ya, that might threaten the safety and well-being of this fortress-!”

“I don’t have to tell you anything,” the Hyperborean responded in a tone as smooth and tranquil as the running water around the Marine. “He is my patient and he has confidentiality vith his medic.”

What in the…

The Marine cracked one eye open to find Valeria standing calmly before the towering horned and masked Warden, who looked ready and able to snap the medic in two with her bare hands.

“As your commander, I order you to-!”

“ Ze Imperator entrusted ze Slayer to me. If you have a problem vith that decision, you tell him yourself.”

Valeria walked off and left a frustrated Warden alone by the river bank, though the Slayer was entirely relieved and grateful.

He almost regretted being such an ass to the Hyperborean.

Slowly blinking in semi-consciousness, the Marine saw the dark figure of the Warden standing stoically above the river bank with her robes billowing in the wind, gazing directly at him. When he next blinked, she was gone.

Splash!

He jerked up in full alertness, soon realizing the splash hadn’t been nearby but rather far behind him. Weakly picking himself up, the Marine carefully waded through the shallow water and peered over a large boulder at the figure stepping into the water below.

It was Valeria’s servant, its hooded silhouette appearing dark atop the shimmering moonlit river. It carried an urn in hand which it filled with water and placed upon the bank before stepping further out into the river, grabbing the edge of its cloak and pulling it off itself to reveal the bare form of a woman with horns.

…

The demon reached up to her head and untied the clasps keeping her hair in place, letting the thick black dreadlocks fall down to her shoulders. She took a deep breath and dove into the water, resurging moments later with a loud gasp and her hair tracing a wide splashing arc through the air.

The Marine scowled in rising fury. Before him was the cause of his affliction, a demon of flesh and blood that had poisoned his body and mind with sinful desire, walking freely through the halls of the Jericho. What sick, twisted curse had she cast unto him?

That demon had to die. If he didn’t kill it, it could spread wanton havoc across the vulnerable warriors. Slitting their throats in their sleep, consuming their life force, breaching the ship’s defenses to let its brethren inside. There was no enslaving or taming them, the only useful demon was a dead demon. And yet…

He couldn’t stop looking. The way the moonlight embraced her slender form, tracing a brilliant path down the curves of her back, the way her horns swept back along her raven hair, yet how she kept her head low and quietly bathed in the waist-deep waters…

[https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/f/b193ee98-825f-4d7d-a3ea-4dcc88c00fc0/dfh9ai3-62bb795d-7ae9-48ee-a930-f923e30ac4da.jpg?token=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.eyJzdWIiOiJ1cm46YXBwOjdlMGQxODg5ODIyNjQzNzNhNWYwZDQxNWVhMGQyNmUwIiwiaXNzIjoidXJuOmFwcDo3ZTBkMTg4OTgyMjY0MzczYTVmMGQ0MTVlYTBkMjZlMCIsIm9iaiI6W1t7InBhdGgiOiJcL2ZcL2IxOTNlZTk4LTgyNWYtNGQ3ZC1hM2VhLTRkY2M4OGMwMGZjMFwvZGZoOWFpMy02MmJiNzk1ZC03YWU5LTQ4ZWUtYTkzMC1mOTIzZTMwYWM0ZGEuanBnIn1dXSwiYXVkIjpbInVybjpzZXJ2aWNlOmZpbGUuZG93bmxvYWQiXX0.2vhHWE3-ih4PBSaimwUMXdxSXDCFeGaNBULb8OgKbXs]

It was captivating. Enthralling. Her beauty in the moonlight overthrew him.

Crack! His grip slipped and loudly threw a trickle of pebbles down the rocky outcrop on which he leaned, causing the demon to gaze up at him with golden eyes shining in the moonlight. The Marine swiftly ducked behind the rock with a racing heart, bracing himself for a confrontation with the monster, yet he could hear no rustling of bushes or ravenous snarling. After a few moments, he carefully peered back over the rock, finding the servant climbing out of the river and wrapping her cloak around herself. She picked up her urn and looked in his direction one last time before heading into the forest and vanishing.

The Marine sighed in relief. That was a close one. Perhaps the Forsworn might tolerate the presence of corrupted souls and even demons aboard their fortress, but that was something he would not stand for.

He had to be careful. Stay alert. Succubi were cunning and he was especially vulnerable in his weakened state. When she next came, he better he ready.

* * *

Elena and Romero sat quietly against the wall in the Lazarus laboratory, listening to distant growls and hoping against hope that someone, anyone, would rescue them.

“You know, I never wanted to be this way,” Romero broke the silence. “I never wanted to be a killer, but it’s what I was born into.

Ceres is a hard place. Out of reach of Earth’s or Mars’ authority, lots of resources, people coming in from all over the System. It’s kill or be killed out there. Cloaks and daggers everywhere. Doors and corners, that’s where they get you.

I started out an orphan on those streets. The mafia took me in, gave me a knife, a target, and promised a sleeping cell with rations. And I was good at it. Real good.

One day, I found myself in the wrong place at the wrong time. With the wrong people, the wrong money, and the wrong blood on my hands.

So I ran away. I’ve laid low ever since and take a job here and there to…bite the next bullet, shoot the next round. Maybe I thought I could drink it all away. I only take the jobs I agree to now, only for the right target and for the right reasons.”

Romero paused to look at the two weapons hanging from his hip, the katana and revolver. He chuckled and Elena blinked inquisitively, until the chuckling became a coarse painful coughing.

“God, I’ve made such a mess of my conscience.

I wish there was something I could do to make up for all that blood behind me. I want to believe that everything happens for a reason, and all that suffering wasn’t for nothing.”

The gunslinger sighed and regretfully slumped against the wall.

“I wish I’d been better. I just wish…I wish I was strong.”

* * *

“ON YOUR FEET, MAGGOT!”

The Marine groaned and picked himself up with shotgun in hand, rushing across the training grounds past flamethrowers and spike traps as the enslaved demons swarmed around him.

“YOU MOVE LIKE YOU’VE GOT TEN POUNDS OF MEXICAN IN YOUR PANTIES, MARINE!” Lieutenant Typhon barked at him through the speaker system. “ON THE DOUBLE! PUCKER THAT ASS AND TRAMPLE THAT GRASS! I’VE SEEN SOLDIERS WITH NO LEGS OR DICKS CRAWLING FASTER THAN YOU!”

There’s no fucking grass here!

The Marine ran across the arena to avoid the bullrush of a Pinky as a Hell Knight roared and launched flaming projectiles at him. He sidestepped the fireballs and retaliated with shrapnel slugs while ducking under a wall-mounted pendulum-ax that grazed his helmet.

“Are you running away?

ARE YOU RUNNING FROM THE DEMONS IN MY ARENA, YOU SHRIMP-DICKED FUCK NUGGET??

GET BACK THERE AND SHOW THEM WHAT A MEAN GREEN KILLING MACHINE YOU ARE! MARINES DON’T RUN AWAY! THEY PLOW DICK-FIRST INTO THE HEAT OF BATTLE AND FUCK THAT BITCH IN THE ASS!

NOW GET IN THERE AND FILL THEM UP WITH YOUR PIPING HOT LEAD!”

God, why does she have to be so obscene?!

The Marine leapt onto a jump pad and soared through the air as he fired shrapnel slugs throughout the arena, but his shots did paltry damage against the demons. Just then, a minigun materialized atop a weapon dispersion panel and he rushed to seize it, aiming it at the Hell Knight and firing. RATATATATATAT!

What is this weapon spread?! The Marine fired the minigun but struggled to hit the Hell Knight with even a single bullet beneath an unmanageable recoil and an atrocious accuracy.

“WHAT’S THE MATTER, MARINE? CAN’T HANDLE A LITTLE RECOIL? HEAVY WEAPONS TOO HEAVY FOR YOU?

I’VE GOT A LOVELY SET OF PORCELAIN CUPS THAT’LL GO NICELY WITH YOUR FRILLY PINK TUTU DRESS, LIKE THE PANSY-ASS LITTLE BITCH THAT YOU ARE!”

FUCK YOU, Typhon! I’m nowhere near as strong or fast as I was on Mars, and my attacks do far less damage than before! Color me demanding but I need the mere act of aiming my gun to be incrementally more precise than shaving my cock with a car bumper!

The Marine hissed and threw the worthless minigun aside.

“YOU THINK THAT’S UNFAIR? I’LL TELL YOU WHAT’S FUCKING UNFAIR!

WHAT’S UNFAIR IS STARING DOWN THE DEMON HORDE WITH NOTHING BUT A 1911 AND YOUR DICK IN HAND CUZ SOME CHICKEN SHIT NERDS THOUGHT IT’D BE A GOOD IDEA TO OPEN A FEW MORE PORTALS AFTER WHAT HAPPENED ON PHOBOS! THEIR NUMBERS ARE COUNTLESS, THEIR VICIOUSNESS UNCONTESTED, AND THEIR CRUELTY MAKES TORTURE LOOK LIKE A FUCKING PICNIC!

SO YOU’RE GOING TO STOP BEING A LITTLE BITCH AND START RIPPING AND TEARING UNTIL YOU’RE TOUGH ENOUGH THAT SATAN HIMSELF IS GOING TO GO CRYING TO MOMMY WHEN HE SEES YOU, LIKE THE LITTLE BITCH HE IS!”

The one they called ‘Satan’ was many things, and a little bitch wasn’t one of them.

But the Marine was at the end of his strength. He hadn’t slept in days to avoid the dreadful visions that tormented him every night now, and both his vision and mind were filled with a thick fog that made focus impossible. He found his eyes drooping shut and his breathing grew ragged as his running slowed, and strange dream-like thoughts began to drift through his head. A skeletal hand flew from nowhere and struck him in the face to knock him to the ground. The shotgun fell out of his hands and he fell to his knees.

“Marine!”

The Marine knelt atop the ashes of a scorched wasteland. Oceans of blood shimmered on the surface and brimstone rained from the sky. On the horizon, he could see the skeletal husks of skyscrapers blazing with infernal sigils, Earth’s once-mighty cities now ravaged and destroyed. Above them, a red sun burned itself out as Hell’s fleets spread across a dying universe.

Looking down in defeat, he found himself surrounded by the corpses of humanity, their heads impaled atop spikes and their ashes sifting through his fingers.

“MARINE!!”

The Revenant punched the Marine’s face and he fell on his back, the zombie punching him again and again to crack his visor before it screeched, made one last fist, and everything went dark.

“...Reset,” came Lieutenant Typhon’s disappointed voice.

The Revenant shrieked but it and the rest of the demons were wisped away in swirls of flame to the Jericho ’s demon prison. The Marine had 1 HEALTH left, an allowance by the mystic Arena Eternal that the Forsworn had configured for training purposes, but his training armor was ravaged and would require repair. He picked himself up as the Arena lowered its traps and manifested a portal that took him in front of a livid Typhon and a stern Warden, with Valeria and several other Forsworn warriors who’d come to watch the carnage behind them.

Typhon slammed her cap to the ground and he braced himself.

“WHAT IN THE FARM-FRESH FUCK WAS THAT, MAGGOT? YOU SAT THERE LIKE AN IDIOT AND LET THAT DEMON SKULLFUCK YOU TO DEATH!

IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT? IS IT? WHAT THE HELL AM I TRAINING YOU FOR? IF YOU THINK MY IDEA OF A PERFECT AFTERNOON IS WASTING MY TIME TRAINING PATHETIC EXCUSES OF MARINES LIKE YOURSELF, YOU’RE SORELY MISTAKEN!

WHAT HAVE YOU TO SAY FOR YOURSELF?”

The Marine kept his mouth and mind shut.

“Hellwalker,” began the Warden. “You should be grateful for what you’ve been given. You have a great power, but you’re squandering it with your own indolence.

Nothing’s holding you back but yourself. Whatever it is that’s affecting you, toughen up and fix it soon. We have no room for weak men aboard the Jericho. ”

…Ouch.

Typhon fumed and pressed her face against the Marine’s helmet. “ Get the everloving fuck out of my sight, maggot.

DISMISSED!”

The Marine saluted her and heavily marched past the two commanders as Valeria rushed to his side. She held out a flask of healing potion and he eagerly took it, pouring it into the induction port on his helmet and wincing as the cool fluid flowed down his throat in a soothing wave.

“ Typhon’s right, you know ,” came a voice from behind him and the Marine immediately halted. He looked over his shoulder to find the Hellfire Spartan leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, addressing the Spacer beside him but looking straight at the Marine. “ We’re all wasting our time with a washed-up has-been like him.

I can’t tell what the Imperator sees in him, other than a pathetic self-pitying excuse.”

“Slayer…,” Valeria began with a low voice. “Look at me. Take a deep breath, keep moving forvard , and don’t look back.”

… Fine.

The Marine moved on and the Hellfire Spartan scoffed and walked away.

“That’s right. Let it go, it’s not vorth - SLAYER !!”

The Marine had already flashed around and charged at the soldier with fire in his eyes, who glanced back in surprise before being tackled to the ground. The two of them rose to their feet and he savagely punched at the soldier’s face and chest, cracking the thick armor and pushing him back to the wall before grabbing his neck and slamming the Spartan back and forth against the stone.

“Oh no…” whispered the Spacer behind him.

Suddenly, the Spartan took a hold of both the Marine’s arms and pried them away from its neck with a vice-like grip, slamming its helmet against the Marine’s and jabbing its hand into his exposed throat.

OWWW!!

The two backed away from the wall and the Marine threw another punch but the Spartan easily countered his attack and backfisted his face before following with a painful pectoral jab. He swung a right hook but the Spartan dodged and punched at the Marine’s kidneys to thrust him forward.

He spun around and threw another two brute punches but the Spartan countered these as well, keenly and precisely delivering a left hook to his jaw, double jabs to the face and knocked the wind out of him with a gut punch to finish with a right hook that threw the Marine into the wall. The soldier grabbed his head and slammed it down on its knee before lifting a dazed Marine into the air and slamming him onto the ground.

“... You need…to get your SHIT together,” hissed the panting Spartan before raising a booted foot above the Marine’s chest.

Valeria yelled. “SLAYER!!”

BOOM! CRASH! The Marine fell through the ground and landed on the floor beneath by the force of the Spartan’s stomp, directly in the middle of a dozen surprised Forsworn warriors. He wheezed weakly amidst a pile of rubble, staring through the new hole in the roof at the Spartan, Warden, and Lieutenant Typhon looking down at him before they walked away and vanished.

“Whoa-ho-ho! SHIT, man!” Chuckled a new voice beside him, and the Marine looked up into the laughing face of John Grimm walking over to his side. “Don’t know what sort of shit you’re getting yourself into but you ha–ha-have GOT to bring me next time!” Grimm extended a hand toward the Marine and he took it to lift himself up, grunting as his internal organs screamed in protest.

Grimm looked up and patted his back as Valeria knelt beside and lowered herself through the hole. “Gotta give you credit though, you’re tougher than you look.”

The medic rushed up to the Marine and pressed her hand against his throat, who winced as she touched his still-hurting trachea. She sighed. “ Vhy do you keep looking for trouble? Vhat is it you need to prove?”

…Sorry.

She shook her head and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Come on, let’s get you to your chamber. You need to rest.”

The Marine halted her and gently lifted her hand off.

Thanks, but I need some time alone.

“You sure you’re okay?” Asked Grimm.

I don’t need help.

“If there’s anything I can help with,” Valeria began with a concerned face, “anything you need to talk about-”

I said I’m fine! I’m just…gonna lie down until the pain goes away, the Marine thought as he rubbed his throat and turned to leave, feeling a warmth spread across his chest and back and realizing his stitches had ripped. But he didn’t need their help, he’d deal with his problems on his own.

As always. In silence.

In his distraction he almost walked into the disgraced Yautja without its dreadlocks who’d been standing beside him. The Yautja was bare of armor and wore only a loincloth to reveal a pale muscular body crossed with scars and greenish tiger-like stripes. As he stared, the alien released a hoarse chuckling and spoke in a crude approximation of human speech.

“You…look like…shit.”

The Marine raised an eyebrow as the grotesque alien merely cackled and clicked its tusks in mockery.

Laugh it up, fuckface.

But the Marine walked past the Yautja and left the concerned Valeria and Grimm behind, dejectedly making his way through the crowd and back to his chamber as he kept one hand on his throat and the other on his aching stomach.

This was a mistake. He was just wasting everyone’s time here. He didn’t belong on this ship. He was nowhere as strong as the Forsworn in this state.

…He wasn’t as strong as he once thought.

* * *

Something clanged in the distance. Whispers echoed down the halls of Lazarus and the two survivors thought they could hear the sounds of claws striking on tile, but nothing appeared in the hall they sat on.

Elena looked down at her hands.

“When I was a girl, I wanted to be a dancer. I loved the grace, the beauty of it. The way the dancers could float through the air as if they weighed nothing.

But I was never good at it. I studied biotechnology when I got older, but I never felt anything for it. Even now, I’m really only an average scientist.”

“But,” Romero asked, “you came here…On behalf of the Global Science Council.”

“As a replacement ambassador, not a researcher. The official ambassador fell ill and sent me instead.”

“Oh.”

“I always wanted to help others but I lacked talent in anything. I just…”

The scientist sighed and brought her legs close to her body, resting her head on her knees.

“I wish there was something I could have called my own. I wish I could have made a difference, helped someone in some way.”

The gunslinger placed his hand on her shoulder.

“You helped Agent Taylor. She was lucky to have met you, and I know you changed her life for the better.”

Elena said nothing more, but shut her eyes and struggled to keep herself from crying.

* * *

HEATWAVE FOUNDRY

THERMOSUITS REQUIRED PAST THIS POINT

“Ooh, that’s steamy.”

I entered a separate complex filled with sweltering heat from the red-hot lava flowing underneath. The entire foundry was illuminated by the ember glow as molten metal poured from the ceiling and walls into the reservoir below.

I tentatively grabbed one railing for a false sense of safety but reeled back when I felt it wobble.

“God! Who the hell designs these facilities? This railing is weak as shit!

None of this is remotely safe…” I muttered as I looked over the edge and peered below at the bubbling lava.

“ Hsss…”

“Shit, they’re here!”

I turned around with guns ready but saw no movement across the walkways.

“ Hsss!”

It’s closer!

I glanced at my motion tracker to find a snake-like shape darting swiftly from behind towards me when I turned around and barely caught sight of a translucent figure ram into me and throw me over the railing.

“SHIIIT!”

I quickly fired my jets and soared upwards before I fell into the lava, landing atop a solid platform before daring to retaliate.

“AAAAAHH!”

I launched one fireball after another across the foundry but didn’t hit anything, only hearing a mechanical serpentine rattling and hissing slink around and throughout the walkways. The thing was cloaked and the shimmering air made finding it all but impossible.

Suddenly there was a fiery burst and a swarm of micromissiles flew at me from a billowing steam mist.

“There!”

I dodged the missiles while casting a flame wave in that direction and to my surprise managed to strike the entity and lit its serpentine shape on fire, and its active cloak wore off to reveal a silver three-meter long robot with a crocodilian jaw, six long scythed arms, and three gyroscopic jetspheres providing lift to its long snake-like body. The robot, labeled ARGUS UNIT, dug its charred scythes into the adjacent pipes before releasing a metallic roar at me.

“ ROOOWWWRRR!!”

RATATATATATAT!! I opened fire with explosive machine gun rounds but the Argus darted out of my line of fire and ducked into the complex environment. I rushed after it with my Third Eye active to track it even with its active camo, but it deftly avoided my gunfire by slinking around the pipes and crawling along the walls and ceiling.

KRT KRT KRT KRT…

“What the…”

EEEEEEE POW POW POW!

“Aaah!”

A swarm of spider-like microbots I hadn’t even noticed waddled up to my feet and exploded with the strength of hand grenades, quickly bursting my overshield. The Argus must have released them while I was busy rushing trying to find it.

BZZZZT…

A red laser sight settled on my exposed chest from a shadowy alcove, and out of sheer primal instinct I shade-dashed out of the way.

“AAAAH-!” POWW!! A red-hot meter-long javelin suddenly impaled itself where my chest had been a fraction of a second earlier. With further ticking sounds from the next volley of the hidden Argus’ seeker grenades, I cast a waspid swarm behind me and against my instincts rushed in the direction of the new opponent. My upgraded motion tracker displayed a roughly person-sized shape above me, and I looked up to find a black android with a menacing javelin gun, quivering back-mounted stability thrusters above its jetpack, and a smooth robotic head with two long antenna that gave it the appearance of a bee.

The Black Bee settled its laser sight on me again and I activated my phase shift to become invisible and opened fire, but after only a few hits the droid teleported away and my attacks hit the blank wall.

“ Hsss!”

“Whoa!”

I turned around at the Argus’ sudden ambush and parried its scythes with my Bronze Knife.

“Shit, it can see through my phase shift!”

Keenly parrying its slashes, I landed several hits on the serpentine robot but it whipped me back with an electric strike from its long tail and slinked back into the fog.

“Oh no, you don’t!”

I switched to my new Argent Lances and opened fire before the Argus could escape again. The robot shrieked as my crackling beams ripped through its body and it fell apart on the floor in a scattering pile of sparking shrapnel. I let my guard down as my phase shift wore off.

BZZZZ!

“ Urrgghh!”

A stun bomb exploded at my feet and electrocuted me while the sound of the Black Bee’s targeting reticle whistled across the foundry.

POWW!!

“AAAHH!”

The hidden Black Bee struck me with a javelin that lodged itself in my chest in a splatter of dark fluid and shrapnel, knocking me forward and reducing my health almost by half. I grabbed a hold of the spike and with a pained yell pulled it free from my chest.

BZZZZT…

“No no NO!”

POWW!! POWW!! POWW!!

I dashed left and right struggling to avoid the Black Bee’s javelins, but the robot repeatedly teleported across the environment and made return fire impossible. My overshield was still regenerating and I knew I couldn’t survive many more hits.

“The alt fire…wait! The alt fire!”

Wrr POWW! “ Screee!” The seeker bolt shot from my cannons and bounced across the foundry until it struck somewhere behind me and the Black Bee screeched.

“Fucking piece of-!”

POWW! “Screee!” POWW!

…

The shattered body of the Black Bee collapsed from the rafters in front of me, the display on its cracked visor powering off and going dark.

“Yeah, you bitch- !” I angrily kicked the head over the railing and into the molten metal, but to my surprise it only thudded and settled atop the red-hot surface.

“Huh. I expected it to sink.”

“John,” Colonel Johnson started. “ John! Look!”

I glanced at the Black Bee’s smashed chassis and found a familiar triangle-and-bullet logo printed on the hull.

“Trinity Systems. Wait, isn’t that-?”

“ A weapons manufacturer and rival to the UAC.”

“What about the Argus?”

I ran back to the serpentine robot’s remains and found another logo printed on it.

“I/O Logistics. Mixom is teaming up with other competitor companies to the UAC. Construction, weapons, infrastructure, aerospace…Whatever they have planned here on Europa is definitely something big.”

“ On their own, none of these corporations could stand up to the superpower that is the UAC. But together, and with their own advancements in Hell research…best believe they can, and they will.”

* * *

WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN?? Mentally yelled the Marine in the Jericho ’s forge.

“ SUIT IS REPAIRED. REASSEMBLED,” responded the Verimor Blacksmith.

THEN WHY THE FUCK IS IT NOT WORKING?

“SUIT IS REPAIRED. FULLY FUNCTIONAL.”

CLEARLY NOT BECAUSE IT’S STILL NOT RESPONDING TO ME!!

“SUIT IS REPAIRED. HELLWALKER IS NOT.”

The Marine scowled and punched the Verimor machinery beside him, briefly denting the smooth surface before the nanoscopic matter repaired itself, only adding to his anger. In front of him, the reconstructed Praetor Suit was whole and free of damage but still completely unresponsive.

I BET YOU DIDN’T DO JACK SHIT! I BET A RETARDED FUCKING CRIPPLE WITH NO ARMS OR LEGS COULD DO A BETTER JOB THAN YOU!!

“UNTRUE. WORK IS PERFECT.

HELLWALKER IS NOT. IN WRONG PLACE.

NOT WELL. NOT OF MIND. NOT OF HEART.”

The Slayer hissed and repeatedly punched at the Verimor machinery until he was steaming with frustration at the unbreaking surface. He tackled the Praetor Suit within its suspension platform and punched at its helmet on the ground, desperate to evoke any response but the visor remained whole and dark. Beside him, Valeria remained silent but disheartened from his outburst, wincing and looking away as the Marine assaulted the inanimate armor.

Before long his knuckles were numb and the Suit was splattered with blood.

FUUUUUUUCK!!

The Sentry Bot suspended above the Suit was undamaged but still dark and unresponsive. Looking at its still shape, the Marine stormed off and left the medic and Verimor Crafter behind, who calmly levitated the undamaged Praetor Suit from the ground and vaporized the blood with a quick shimmering wave.

“ PITY THE FLESHLINGS,” he heard behind him before he stepped into a teleporter and warped away.

The Marine reappeared in another hall of the Jericho and fumingly walked back towards his room, but his rage quickly evaporated and was replaced with overbearing exhaustion. He didn’t have the strength to keep himself angry.

He was tired. He hadn’t slept in a week and felt as if life was being wrung out of his still-walking body and leaving with every breath, but he needed to stay awake to avoid the nightmares. He couldn’t go back. He walked past a doorway and past the luminous cloaked figure with a golden halo.

What?!

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

The Marine rushed back and glanced into the doorway, finding himself in what appeared to be a small empty chapel with only a single candle in the center and nothing else.

Valeria’s hooded servant lay prostrated before the candle, kneeling in adoration and quietly praying. She turned around as the Marine arrived and met his gaze through her veil, the small golden Star of David hanging from her hand in a simple twine.

He frowned. She might be fooling them, but she wasn’t fooling him. He knew her plan. When she came to attack, it was she who would die.

Suddenly, there was a commotion around him and several Forsworn warriors rushed past towards a main hall. He turned away from the servant and listened to the aliens’ various multi-tongued conversations.

“Don’t want to be late!”

“Haven’t you heard? Let’s go!”

“ Is it really? ”

The hell was going on? The Marine headed in their same direction as the alien multitude around him gradually thickened.

“Has he really returned?”

“He’s come, we’ll get to see him!”

“Will the Doom Slayer be there?”

HE WAS RIGHT HE- Oh, right. The suit. The Marine fortunately managed to keep his thoughts to himself, and was grateful the other Forsworn weren’t aware of his true identity in his current state. Now he realized why they had provided the training armor.

The multitude arrived at and spread out across a feasting hall the size of a cathedral, filled with dozens of long polished tables and illuminated by an eerie ceiling displaying a cosmic vista of galaxies, nebulae, and stars that gradually faded into the polished stone walls.

Holy shit.

The Marine followed the flow of the crowd and sat down at the first availability, glancing at the many warriors and aliens passing by. They looked down at him with expressions of criticism and contempt and kept moving on. Checking the table, he discovered the Forsworn sitting apart from where he was, their backs to him and glancing in his direction before returning to whispering among themselves.

He knew why. Because of the incident back at the Arena, where he’d proved himself a disappointment to the Warden and Lieutenant Typhon, and got his ass handed to him by that Spartan. Shit, it didn’t matter if nobody knew he was the Slayer, because now everyone knew he was a failure.

It was strange. He was completely surrounded by intelligent beings for the first time in eons, and yet…

He’d never felt more alone.

“Hey, big guy!”

Ah, shit.

An eager Grimm interrupted his brooding and energetically sat beside him. “What’s up? Haven’t seen you in a while. Good to see ya here!” He yelled as he boisterously patted the Marine’s back, practically slamming him onto the table.

He sulked but allowed the contact, not displeased to see at least one face in that damn ship that didn’t look at him with scorn or disappointment. Perhaps Grimm hadn’t heard about-

“I heard you got your ass kicked by a Spartan!”

Ugh…

“Ha ha ha! Don’t feel too bad, I hear those guys are literally trained from childhood to be deadly supersoldiers! That one you fought was even once classified as a ‘ hyper-lethal vector ’!

Plus, you know, power armor and all that, so really wasn’t a fair fight.”

He ‘literally’ once brought down the Dreadknought Colossus of Taras Nabad with nothing but his shotgun and half a loincloth! He didn’t even HAVE the Praetor Suit back then!

“Don’t worry about it. You win some, you lose s- WHEW!” Grimm whistled as the female Scorned marched past them, wearing lighter armor that bared much more of her sculpted muscular form.

“GodDAMN!” The man continued. “You don’t come across abs like that every day.”

The Marine questioningly raised an eyebrow at Grimm, but the soldier was already glancing around at the other Forsworn milling past them.

“This place is practically swimming with hot warrior chicks, man! Tell you what, I bet you and I can get dates if we get some shinier suits and clean ourselves up-”

Grimm was cut off by the figure that sat across the two and gazed intently at them, the female warrior with red biometallic armor and ethereal blue hair that the Warden had referred to as Hennya.

The man made a nervous smile. “I mean, the hair is neat, but I feel there’s too much of a cultural…species…barrier between us. I don’t think we can really connect, is what I’m saying,” he told the alien, evidently uncomfortable by her eerie multi-eyed face. Hennya slowly reached up to her head and pressed two switches, causing her energy hair to dissipate and her metallic face to nfold while venting steam. She grabbed hold of the faceplate and pulled it off, the Marine and Grimm holding their breaths as they braced for a grotesque alien face.

“Hello, gentlemen,” cheerfully spoke a stunningly attractive human woman with caramel skin, radiant violet eyes, and dazzling magenta hair that shined with a metallic luster. “Glad to see you’re enjoying your evening.”

“ ...Good God!” Whispered a starstruck Grimm. “I think I died and went to Heaven instead.”

Hennya smiled, fixing her lustrous hair that rested in a bob on her shoulders and setting her eerie mask onto the table, but the Marine was more skeptical. Not only of Hennya’s brighter attitude compared to the other Forsworn but also her exceptionally exotic appearance as an otherwise seemingly ordinary human. Was she an ancient refugee that had been lost to the cosmos and found by an alien civilization, or did she originate from a future human society?

“Wait, I think I’ve heard of you,” Grimm spoke up. “The others were calling you ‘Hennya ,’ I believe.”

“Oh no!” The warrior warmly corrected. “Hennya’s the name of my Warframe here. Please, call me Tyri!” She held out her hand and Grimm shook it in greeting.

“John Grimm, but you can call me Reaper.”

“Reaper? Ah! Grimm Reaper! I like it!”

“Heh, thanks.

You know, I was gonna ask,” Grimm looked around at the crowded hall. “What’s all the ruckus about?”

“Word is the Imperator has returned to the Jericho , and I hear the Warden and High Three will be here too.”

“The High Three?”

“The three most powerful warriors aboard the Jericho , answering only to the Imperator.”

The Black Knight, Destructor, and Oathbreaker , the Marine realized. He glanced over to the front of the hall. The Warden was already standing there with arms folded behind her back, but she only looked across the roiling multitude in clear wait for something. There was a short table behind her positioned above the ground floor, with several seats and a high chair at the center like a throne.

“So what’s your Emperor like? I’ve asked, but few here seem willing to even talk about him.”

“ Imperator. There’s really no describing him, you have to see it for yourself.

I don’t know much about him, but I’ve heard rumors about him slaughtering gods and spreading darkness across the Immortal Realms. Some whisper that he’s a dark lord to rival even the Doom Slayer.”

Yeah, right.

“No way!”

“Yeah!”

“And will the Slayer be here too?”

Hennya’s eye flickered almost imperceptibly towards the Marine, something he keenly noticed.

“Don’t know. I know he made contact with the Forsworn a while back, but that’s all I know.”

Grimm turned around to glance over the crowd, and Hennya took the chance to cast a sly wink at the Marine.

Don’t think you’re winning any favors with me, he sourly thought before a yellow figure caught his eye. The warrior monk was making his way through the crowd in the direction of the Warden, greeting and occasionally bowing in respect to other beings that reached out for him, but the Marine noticed he wasn’t accompanied by the young shrine maiden.

A short figure in a red-and-white dress promptly sat at the table beside the Marine.

GOD damn it!

“Master Wan sends his regards and told me to say hi,” the shrine maiden spoke.

Regards received, hi received. Now get out of here.

“Hi, miss Tyri.”

“Hello, Rei!”

“Hey there, kiddo!” Grimm spoke beside him and the Marine rolled his eyes in exasperation. “What’s a young ‘un like you doing in this neck of the woods?”

“I was walking home one night after praying at my shrine and I got lost.”

The Marine flared up. YOU ENDED UP ON THE NINTH CIRCLE OF TORMENT ON YOUR WAY HOME FROM PRAYER??

“It was dark.”

“Sounds like me after a round of beers,” chuckled Grimm as he held his fist out at the shrine maiden. “Lay it here, kiddo! I’m Grimm, nice to meet ya!”

Looking over the crowd, the Marine saw the Black Knight, Destructor, and Oathbreaker warp in and walk over to the high table.

The shrine maiden returned Grimm’s fistbump but her expression changed to one of confusion. “I’m Rei, but you don’t look terribly grim to me,” she spoke with complete honesty. The soldier and Hennya erupted in hysterical laughter, and the Marine tiredly facepalmed.

I’m surrounded by idiots.

THUD!!

The Warden thunderously slammed her mace onto the ground, drawing everyone’s attention and bringing the chamber to complete silence. The High Priestess stepped forth.

“It’s been long since we first gathered. Long since we were rescued from our cursed lives, rescued from this forsaken realm.

We uphold our vows to combat the Hellspawn and to offer sanctuary to any lost travelers. We vow allegiance to no law, no nation, no lord, no god.

We vow allegiance only to ourselves…and to him. ”

WHAT is he? The Marine glanced back and forth, but all the warriors around him were transfixed upon the Priestess. The Warden stood sternly beside her and the High Three patiently waited above.

“I announce the arrival of the Raging Warlord. The Thunder Tyrant. The Empty One and Lord of Black Sun…

The Imperator.”

The hall began to shake, and looking up the Marine found the dazzling greens, blues, and violets of the cosmic starscapes projected on the ceiling above fade to an ominous red as the stars were snuffed out by an overwhelming darkness. The ground rumbled and all the warriors throughout the hall stood up in reverence. Grimm nervously followed suit but the Marine made sure to remain seated.

A swirl of shadow manifested on the raised platform at the front of the hall, and the High Priestess bowed and backed away as the dark figure slowly materialized. The air in the hall palpably cooled and became filled with a sensation of pervasive emptiness that chilled the Marine to the bone.

He was almost three meters tall, a brutal domineering figure that stood like a monolith of pure darkness. He carried no armor, only thick jet-black skin atop his otherwise featureless body. He wore a half-mask over his face and his eyes glared with crimson power. Behind him, a black hole manifested in the star field displayed on the walls, hanging behind his head like a dark halo of nothingness.

[https://i.imgur.com/cSDDbjf.png]

The Marine’s eyes widened. The cold, the emptiness, the power to manipulate the Void beyond Creation. The Imperator was a Voidwalker.

The Imperator faced the Forsworn and took a slow step forward before swiftly clenching his right fist in a battle pose.

“FOR THE JERICHO,” he declared in a resounding voice like thunder.

“For the Jericho !” The Forsworn responded in turn, and the Marine was keenly aware of the Imperator gazing directly at him, at his seated posture and refusal to salute. But the warlord lowered his fist and turned back to walk towards the high table. He sat upon the center high seat, followed afterward by the High Three and the rest of the Forsworn.

The ominous red aura retreated from the starry ceiling to restore the dazzling cosmic vistas and the chilling emptiness lifted somewhat, though the red aura and the black hole remained projected behind the Imperator’s throne.

“Enjoy the rest of your evening,” the High Priestess spoke as platters and dishes beyond the Marine’s wildest dreams suddenly appeared throughout the table, and as the sounds of clamorous chatter resumed, the High Priestess, warrior monk, and Warden took seats at the high table.

The feast was astounding. Exotic fruits, bubbling drinks, strange ambrosias and desserts. Roasted, raw, and living food-beasts of every shape and size beckoning from the tables before the wildly different alien races of the Forsworn. The Marine had never seen such a grand cornucopia even with the Night Sentinels.

“Well, let’s dig in!” Hennya spoke as she began eating a dish of small colorful cubes with a pair of chopsticks.

“Ooofh! Don’t mind if I- harr!” A disturbed Grimm enthusiastically tore off and began devouring the scaly wing of a Terror Bird, and the Marine scowled with disgust at the squelching sounds and flying bits of sizzling flesh. “ Mmm, mmm. This is the best chicken wing I’ve ever had. Gulp!

Well, tell me, what’s your chain-of-command?”

“We hardly have one. Our organizational structure is very decentralized.

The Warden oversees general matters aboard the ship, but she’s appointed a leader for every major species and organizes the rarer ones, who then govern themselves. With so many beings from so many worlds, cultures, and advancement levels, a single fixed hierarchy is almost impossible.”

“ Gulp! How big is the Jericho? How many Forsworn warriors and species are there?”

“Diameter is around nine kilometers. Population is about…one hundred and forty thousand, from twelve hundred distinct species, I believe.”

“Shame- gulp! Shame it’s not a dinner-and-show!”

“Oh, give him a minute,” Hennya aloofly replied. “He’ll be here any time now.”

Grimm made a muffled “Who?” beneath a mouth full of food.

BOOM! The hall doors slammed open with a roaring gust of flame.

“Him.”

WHOOSH! A darting red shape shot from the doorway while trailing sparks like a rocket. The Marine caught sight of bat-like wings before the chamber erupted with thunderous cheers.

“ HELLOOOOOO JERICHO !!” The dragonoid Guncaster yelled from the ceiling before plummeting to the ground and sliding between the tables in a wave of sparks, high-fiving the limbs of all the warriors that reached out for him. The alien struck a dramatic kneeling pose upon reaching the elevated platform with a wide grin, but the hall was positively roaring with applause.

“Who’s that guy?!” A vivid Grimm beamed.

“Cygnis Flaynithere. He comes from one of the worlds destroyed by the Serpent Riders, but he’s clearly doing just fine.”

“Wow! What is he?!”

“He’s a…hmm. I don’t know.”

“Well, whatever he is, he’s fuckin awesome!”

He’s not that awesome, the Marine sourly thought.

Grimm joined the vivid applause as the dragonoid unexpectedly flew up to the high table.

“ My liege, in the flesh!” He addressed the Imperator while taking a knee. “ It’s good to see you return!”

“You’re late, Cygnis.” The Dark Lord said bluntly.

“ But I’m FASHIONABLY late, my liege! You know me, I LOVE to make an entrance!” The hall cheered loudly at the dragonoid’s remark.

“If only you were as committed to your duties, as you are to playing the hearts of our people.”

“My liege, you wound me!” Exclaimed the Guncaster in mock offense. “ When have I ever failed you? You know there is none more talented at reading the scry charts than I! And neither is there a better pilot in all of existence!”

“Hmm.”

“ And Warden!” The Guncaster declared as he darted over to the commander’s side. “ You look as grim and terrifying as ever!”

“Where I come from,” the unimpressed Warden began, “dragons are holy beings of wisdom and strength.”

“ And right you are! My wisdom is to SPEAK LOUD AND CARRY A BIIIIG GUN!!” The Guncaster suddenly brandished his blue railgun and primed it with a shrill hum, causing the crowd to cheer wildly. “What do you think, Warden? Better than your gunpowder cannons of old?”

“Gaudier.”

“ Black Knight!” The Guncaster moved on to the first of the High Three and slung his arm around the warrior’s shoulders. “ How’s my old pal doing?!”

“Hmmm,” came the grumbling reply.

“Me too! Love the sword, pal, but I still think you’ve gotta change that name! ‘Dragon Slayer’ might be insensitive to anyone here who identifies as a dragon!

And I would know, I have several friends who are dragons!”

The entire hall erupted in laughter but the Black Knight shoved the Guncaster aside.

“Haha! All right, all right! I can tell when I’ve overstayed my welcome!”

The Marine frowned in annoyance at the dragonoid’s unruly performance, when the alien suddenly leapt and soared through the air before landing in the empty space on the table in front of him.

“ And look what we have here, folks!” The Guncaster exclaimed as he wrapped an arm around a bewildered Marine. “ A newcomer to our ranks, a mean green marine from Earth!

What’s your name, soldier?”

If you don’t get your filthy claws off me, Your Worst Fucking Nightmare.

“‘ Your Worst Fucking Nightmare! ’ Fascinating surname! You must be where my mother-in-law is from!”

More laughter from the Forsworn and from Grimm beside him, and the Guncaster let him go.

“I hear you’ve barely arrived and you’re already carving out a name for yourself! Walking up to the biggest toughest Spartan in the yard and getting right to business! Shame it didn’t turn out as expected!”

Uggghhh .

“Seriously, I’ve never heard of someone blocking that many punches with their face! I bet you were hungry for a hearty breakfast, cuz you ate the full-course buffet at the knuckle sandwich house!”

The hall clamored with raucous laughter. Grimm’s face was red with hysteria and even Hennya lightly chuckled from her meal. The Marine glowered indignantly.

“ Ha ha! But seriously, folks. But seriously,” the Guncaster raised his arms to placate the crowd. “I feel our new friend here deserves some commendation. Few beings can claim to intentionally cross paths with a Spartan, and fewer yet to survive the encounter!

Let’s give the greenie a big hand of applause, for the toughest jaw I’ve seen yet and the heaviest pair of balls this side of a black hole binary system!”

The Forsworn cheered and applauded, but the annoyed Marine only smacked his face into the table in embarrassment. The Guncaster then soared through the air to land in front of the gate, and Grimm stood up to yell at the alien.

“I LOVE YOU, CYGNIS!”

“ AND I LOVE YOU, RANDOM HUMAN!” He promptly replied while stylishly pointing at the soldier. The crowd cheered louder, and the Guncaster backed towards the gates while high-fiving nearby warriors.

“ You’ve been a lovely audience, folks. Two drink minimum. And don’t forget to try the Shirley Temple!

It’s only half as fruity as its name, I promise.”

“Show us the fire!” A warrior shouted from the crowd, which loudly cheered in agreement.

“ What’s that?!” The Guncaster excitedly asked.

“The fire!”

“Give us the fire!”

“You want the fire?!”

“Yes!”

“Yeah!”

The Guncaster stylishly dropped to his knee and struck a pose.

“YOU CAN’T HANDLE THE FIRE!”

“Do it!”

The Guncaster rose to his feet, deeply breathed in, and roared.

“ROOOOAAAAWWWWRRRR!!”

A crimson firestorm erupted from his mouth and shot upwards at the ceiling, sweeping across the spandrels and descending back onto the crowd in a rain of embers. The Marine could feel the sweltering heat even from his position. The crowd thundered with applause before the Guncaster spun with a swirl of flame and was gone.

“WOO! Haha! That Cygnis is wild!”

“Yup.” Hennya remarked without looking up from her plate. “Real charmer, that one.”

“Come on, big guy!” Grimm suddenly yelled as he slapped the Marine’s back. “You haven’t eaten a single thing! You gotta try some of this shit out!”

I’m not terribly hungr-

“You should try the spidertree fruits,” spoke Hennya. “Those are real succulent.”

I’m not a fan of biting into fruit and feeling spiders crawling in my mouth.

“How about these?” Grimm interjected. “Hard boiled imp eggs?

I’m telling you, you haven’t lived until you eat one of these suckers in one bite.”

Grimm peeled back a scaly orange egg and held it like a shot glass, the veiny yolk and developing hatchling visible from the top.

“Cheers,” he said before drinking from the egg and ingesting its contents with one gulp.

An involuntary gag rose from the Marine’s throat and his eye twitched.

You know, I think I had a doctor’s appointment to get to-

“There’s roasted Pinky, if you want,” the shrine maiden commented as she sipped from a shallow bowl of sake, and the Marine turned towards the steaming red meat with a grumbling stomach and watering mouth.

… I mean, I guess I could have a bite or two.

He pulled a plate and served himself a portion of the sizzling demonic pork, opening the induction port on his helmet and passing small bits of meat into his mouth. It was hot, the charred outside was crunchy and the inside was tender, filling his mouth with the savory fluids of cooked blood, oil, and the faint tinge of sulfur.

It was alright.

“Heh, won’t even take off your helmet to eat, big guy?”

Helmet stays on.

“You want some beer to wash that down?”

The Marine didn’t drink alcohol. Growing up with his father had dissuaded him of that habit.

Just hand me that water.

“Nice.

So Tyri! Tell me, what’s the dating situation around here?”

Hennya dropped her hands onto the table and looked at Grimm with raised eyebrows.

“OH, trust me, you don’t wanna go there. Forsworn women are nothing like those you’ve met anywhere else. They are ruthless…”

“Yeah?”

“...battle-hardened…”

“ Yeah ?!”

“...they could lift you with one hand and snap you in half with the other.”

“ Aaaahh!” A positively thrilled Grimm beamed. “Who are the toughest chicks around here? You know, so I know which ones to stay away from.”

Liar, thought the Marine when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

“The mark on your hand is gone,” said the shrine maiden.

Yeah, what about it? He scowled at the girl and returned to his meal.

“You see those tall women in the golden armor?” Hennya continued as she pointed into the crowd. “Those are Amazons.

With only spear and shield, they protected their homeland against demonic invasion for a thousand years, and even managed to fight off Hercules when he invaded them on his Ninth labor.”

The Marine had once met Hercules. A crippled Spartan infant thrown off a cliff could have fought the man off.

“If the mark on your hand is gone,” asked the shrine maiden, “does that mean you’re not the Slayer anymore?”

Of course I’m still the Slayer.

“And that lady over there, the Pale Lady.”

“No way!” Grimm exclaimed when he caught sight of the mild-mannered white-haired woman in a long black dress. “Her?”

“You don’t believe me? She was a sniper for the Red Army back in your second World War.”

Where the FUCK are you from?! The Marine suddenly flared.

“Oh, I’m from around,” Hennya replied without missing a beat.

How do you know my Earth’s history? Are you from an alien society? A lost pocket dimension? The future?

“I can’t tell you.”

TELL ME!

Hennya’s eyes suddenly glared a blinding electric blue and her hair levitated with arcane power as she spoke in a thunderous alien voice.

“HUMAN, DO YOU HAVE THE SLIGHTEST IDEA WHAT I AM? I AM A TENNO, A WARRIOR-GODDESS THAT HAS SCOURED THE COLD DEPTHS OF NAMELESS VOIDS.

I HAVE PLUNGED INTO BLINDING HELLSPACES WHERE SCIENCE AND REASON ARE ILLUSIONS.

I HAVE STARED THE OLD GODS IN THE EYES AND LAUGHED IN THEIR FACES.

CHALLENGE ME, AND YOU WILL LEARN WHY NOW-EXTINCT EMPIRES ONCE CALLED ME ‘THE DEMON WARFRAME.’”

The sudden commanding tone and resonant aura was enough to catch the Marine off guard, and he scowled but sourly dropped the subject. Hennya returned to normal and continued conversing with a stunned Grimm.

“As I was saying, the Pale Lady lost her eyes in an attack from demons captured by the Germans, but she picked up her rifle once more and let her faith guide her shots.

Legend says she once killed a Cacodemon with a bullet through the eye five kilometers away.”

Grimm’s jaw dropped.

“I’m told she was little more than a pile of meat when the Forsworn found her in Hell, but she was still kicking. We rebuilt her, gave her a cybernetic body and new eyes, but she still wears that blindfold as a reminder of times past.

She can take down fifty demons with just a sword. A literal cold-blooded killing machine.”

Grimm scoffed in astonishment.

Good luck dating an android girl, slick. Hope you got a hand you don’t mind losing, the Marine thought when he felt another tap on his shoulder.

“Now that you’re no longer the Slayer,” asked the shrine maiden, “will there be another Slayer?”

What- no! Buzz off, kid.

A pack of four black-suited Spartans with notably wolf-like helmets walked past the group and sat on the opposite bench. Hennya turned around to look at them.

“Who are those?” Grimm asked.

“The Black Wolves. An elite Spartan fireteam serving under the command of the Black Knight.”

“Why are we looking at them?”

“Just watch.”

The Spartans pulled their helmets off and to the men’s surprise revealed four women with dark ashen skin, glaring fiery eyes, wild unkempt hair, and two wolf-like ears twitching atop their heads. They promptly tore the legs off the carcasses of demon fowl-birds and snarled as they dug into the raw meat with gleaming canine fangs.

“WHOA!” Grimm exclaimed. “Are they hellhounds?!”

“Technically demi hounds. They were infused by the Spirit of the Wolf during their augmentation, the same beast of darkness that haunts the Black Knight’s nightmares.

They’re unmatched hunters and ferocious killers, but their aggression borders on the animalistic and their helmets are designed to keep them from feasting on their slain opponents.”

“ Oooooh !”

The Marine raised an eyebrow at Grimm in a mixture of disapproval and disgust.

You’re into monster girls? Monster fucker.

Another tap on his shoulder, and the Marine sighed in exasperation.

“Do you think there could be a Slayer from an alien species?” Asked the shrine maiden.

No.

“What about one who’s a demon?”

No!

“An Asian one?”

There’s NOT going to be another Slayer!

Step. Step. Step. The group turned around as a Verimor warrior marched down one of the adjacent walkways. The alien was short for its kind yet still towered over the other Forsworn at four meters tall, with a sleek sporty chassis and feminine humanoid appearance.

“ Whew!” Grimm whistled at the robot’s gleaming red and steel-gray chassis, razor-sharp spires, and electric yellow eyes.

“That’s a Verimor. One of the oldest and most powerful races in the universe. Their civilization numbers in the billions of years old, and no one knows the true extent of how far their technology has advanced, or how large their life-forms can grow.”

“That is one fine piece of machinery.”

“She does have a nice figure.”

Both Grimm and the Marine raised their eyebrows at Hennya.

“What? Just admiring the biomechanics.”

Suddenly, the Verimor female morphed into a compact alienoid motorcycle-like form and sped out of the chamber with an echoing engine roar.

Grimm turned to the Marine with a gleam in his eye. “That’s one bike I wouldn’t mind riding! Heh? Heh?” He exclaimed while elbowing the Marine in the ribs.

The Marine scowled and took a drink from the water pitcher.

The shrine maiden spoke up. “Can there be a girl Slayer?”

PFFFFFFFT!!

The Marine choked and involuntarily spat a hissing stream of water at a Sangheili warrior beside Hennya, which exclaimed in anger and surprise.

“Aaarrggh!”

The Marine coughed and hit his chest as water dripped from his nose, and the disgusted Sangheili rose from the table and marched towards the exit.

“Ei jhuf rezigorj…” the alien muttered under its breath.

The livid Marine breathed in and turned to face the shrine maiden.

Okay! Listen up, you little glassy-eyed snot-faced brat!

There’s not going to be an alien Slayer, or an Asian Slayer, or a girl Slayer, or a sideshave shemale Slayer with a cyborg cock implant!

The title ‘Slayer’ isn’t something that is fucking passed down! And neither is the Praetor Suit! Not any shithead can become a ‘Slayer’ simply by identifying as one!

You don’t become a ‘Slayer’ once you reach a highscore in demon kills, and the Praetor Suit isn’t a fucking dime-a-dozen powersuit like the ones these Spartans wear!

‘Doom Slayer’ isn’t a fucking video game achievement, bitch tits!

“Video game achie-?”

‘Doom Slayer’ refers to ME and ME alone! The title is MINE to bear and the Praetor Suit is MINE to wear!

In ALL the worlds in ALL the cosmos, in all of existence, there’s only one and a single FUCKING one Doom Slayer, and that one is ME!

I don’t know why the Praetor Suit’s not working and I don’t know why my strength is gone, but that doesn’t make me any less the Doom Slayer!

So why don’t you shut your pie hole, float on back to the glorious island of bad seafood, flimsy swords, and overcompensating robots you come from, and leave the adults at the grown-up table alone?!

“You’re not very nice, are you?”

I am not ‘nice!’

What, you cross into the actual infernal realm of HELL, seemingly regularly, you fight against some of the biggest monsters in all Creation that manifest pure evil incarnate, you live in a ship filled with a bunch of dysfunctional genocidal dickwads, and you can’t handle a little mean language?

“The Forsworn don’t bother me and I’ve dealt with evil spirits before, but you’re being rude just for the sake of being rude.

Words hurt, you know.”

Ugh. He signed and slammed his hands on the table. You would not have survived a minute in a deployment lobby with marines in a modern warfare setting.

“Would you?”

The Marine only frowned and reached for the shrine maiden’s head, pulling loose and untying the bow holding her hair in place.

“HEYY!” She exclaimed with the first indication of anger as her hair came loose, drawing the attention of Grimm and Hennya.

“Ah, come on, big guy. Leave her alone.”

She started it!

“All right, you’ve made your point,” Grimm added as the shrine maiden angrily retied her hair.

“UGGHH!”

The three turned to the noise to find the humiliated Sangheili warrior confronting the Hellfire Spartan, the two taking aggressive poses and ready to come to blows. Without warning, the Spartan charged the alien and climbed onto its back while punching savagely at its head.

“Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!” The crowd chanted as the two combatants lurched against the tables and other warriors, and from the corner of his eye, the Marine could see the High Three and Warden turn to face the commotion.

A few moments later, four large Terracotta warriors manifested from the stone floor, bearing heavier armor and smoldering double-bladed staffs. The Terracotta Knights pried the two fighters apart and to the Marine’s and Grimm’s horror began stabbing them both with their weapons, much to the crowd’s amusement.

The Terracotta Knights plunged their staffs into the warriors’ hearts and the two slumped dead in the soldiers’ grip, their bodies disintegrating into ethereal particles and vanishing. The Terracotta Knights sank back into the floor and the other Forsworn returned to their meals.

The Marine turned to Hennya for an explanation.

“Don’t worry, they’re fine. The Imperator has casted a latent immortality field throughout the Jericho . Ordinary death is not permanent within these walls.

Those two are gonna wake up aching and grouchy in the respawning cells, though.”

Grimm suddenly gazed past the Marine at a group of aliens marching down the hall.

“Oh. My. GOD.”

He was staring at a pack of three Mantid warriors, slim insectoids four meters tall with blank white face-masks, rugged armored carapaces, multiple viciously clawed arms, and notably protruding chests.

“What are they?”

“They’re Mantids, a subset of the Hallowed Empire, another one of the oldest civilizations and perhaps the most masterful spellcrafters in the universe.

The Hallowed consist of many species like the Weavers, Formids, Hivelings, Luminoth, and Scorponids, but only the Mantids are really present among the Forsworn. Their clans are loyal, cunning, and terrifyingly fierce.”

“ Hmmmm .”

“Oh, no!” Hennya suddenly exclaimed. “Reaper, listen to me, you are NOT interested in a Mantid woman! Their savagery makes the Black Wolves look like puppies!”

“I’m going for it.”

“No, you’re not- !”

“Can you introduce me? I want to make a good first impression.”

Hennya sighed in defeat. “Ugghh!” She put her mask back on and ignited her ethereal energy hair as she stood up. “ Wait here. ”

You ever see what mantises do with their mates, mate? She’ll literally bite your head off, but clearly that’s not the one you’re thinking with anymore.

“You know, big guy. You miss one hundred percent of the shots you don’t take,” Grimm remarked as he slicked his hair back with water from the pitcher.

Monster fucker.

Some distance away, Hennya drew her sword and held it sideways to block the Mantids’ path and draw their attention. They couldn’t hear the conversation between them, but moments later the Mantids glanced in the direction of Grimm and the Marine. They stepped past Hennya and headed in the direction of the two soldiers.

“Here she comes!”

Here she comes.

“I hope she doesn’t mind shorter guys.”

I hope you don’t mind being dead.

The three insectoid aliens approached and stopped in front of the two soldiers.

“Hello, ladies. Name’s Grimm. Nice to meet ya.”

The central Mantid reached up to her face with one clawed hand. The shrine maiden plugged her ears and the Marine averted his gaze in anticipation.

God, I hate this part.

“What?”

The Mantid warrior pulled off her mask and revealed her true face to Grimm.

Her face was a monstrous kaleidoscope of alien eyes, her mouth a horrendous array of mandibles consisting of various spikes and sawblades which chittered in a deafening shrill that filled the whole world and shrieked into their heads like nails on a chalkboard. Two large compound eyes the color of midnight bored into his soul like endless black pits, while smaller eyes around them glinted like icy shards.

Several Forsworn warriors behind them screamed in horror at the grisly sight. Some gripped their heads in agony, some bled from their noses, others fell unconscious to the floor. Grimm, however, was entirely captivated.

After a few moments, the Mantid warrior reattached her blank facemask and the three aliens turned away from the chaos, leaving without a single word. The disoriented Forsworn stopped screaming and picked their unconscious companions up, and an awestruck Grimm smiled and looked at her leave.

“I am both…frightened…and aroused.”

The Marine shook his head and returned to his meal.

“Woo! I think that’s enough for me for one night.

What about you, big guy? Got someone special in your life?”

The Marine thought back to the brown-haired woman he kept seeing in his dreams. He still didn’t know who she was, but he knew she’d once been someone special to him.

Yea.

“Oh, really? Sweet!

What’s she like? What’s her name?”

The Marine stopped with his hands holding Pinky meat in mid-air.

What’s her name? He thought with a growing sensation of dread. I…don’t know.

I can’t remember.

“Oh, quit bugging the guy,” Hennya quickly interjected as she took her mask off. “He doesn’t care about that stuff. All he cares about is killing demons. Ripping and tearing, isn’t that right?”

But the Marine was still gazing into the distance as the realization crashed upon him.

What was her name? What was her face? I can’t remember. I forgot.

The shrine maiden turned to face him with slight alarm, and both Grimm’s and Hennya’s faces fell.

“Big guy?”

I forgot her name. I forgot.

His chest ached once more and his eyes began to water. Without warning, his gasping breath became ragged and tears ran down his eyes.

He was crying.

“Oh, no.”

What was he doing?! He needed to get a grip on himself! He struggled to remain composed, but the tears kept flowing from his eyes and fogged the inside of his visor. His crying remained quiet but the sorrowful waves of psychic energy kept pouring from him and drew the confused attention of the other Forsworn beside him. Even the High Three, Warden, and Imperator at the high table turned in his direction.

Oh God. They can see me. They can all see me.

He stood up and turned to leave the table.

I have to go.

“Big guy-”

I’ve lost my appetite.

The Marine resealed the mouthport on his helmet and made an effort to leave the hall in a dignified manner, but it was no use. He trailed a grieving aura that drew the attention of the Forsworn even through his helmet and silence, who turned to look as he walked by.

He wanted to disappear. He wanted to crawl inside of a pit and die.

He passed through the gate and made his way into the darkness of the Jericho alone.

* * *

He was weak. He was so fucking weak and pathetic.

The Marine cried alone on the riverbank of the Jericho ’s forest enclave, feeling the cool moonlit water rush past his boots.

A true warrior would never rest or need help, let alone show vulnerability or be overcome by sentimentality. He was a disgrace to the marines and to the Night Sentinels.

He didn’t deserve the Praetor Suit. He didn’t deserve to be the Slayer.

Something rustled through the bushes.

Who’s there?!

The tall dark figure slowly emerged from the shadows, crimson eyes glaring in the darkness, metallic mask glinting in the moonlight, and muscular arms clasped behind his back. The Marine blinked in surprise.

The Imperator walked up to him and stopped a distance away among the sweeping grass.

“May I sit here?” He spoke in a soft yet still booming voice.

… It’s your ship.

The commander slowly walked up to him, crouched down and heavily sat beside him with pained grunts. The Marine raised an eyebrow.

The Imperator suddenly manifested a thin silver chain wrapped around his forearm, which he unclasped and held out to the Marine. There was a locket hanging from it.

“Do you recognize her?”

He took the locket and inspected the picture framed inside. It was a tattered black-and-white photograph of a young elegant woman, with fair features, sad eyes, and a slim crown atop her bound hair. The Marine had never seen her before.

No, he admitted as he handed the locket back.

The Imperator took it and gazed at it. “She was a princess, who could’ve been a queen.

She had it all. Power, vision, perfection. The Angels themselves beneath her broken wings.

I was only a man back then. I was supposed to protect her. That was my duty.

But when the attack came and her Ivory Tower fell, I couldn’t be there for her.

She is gone now, and no one is to blame but me.”

The Marine frowned in confusion. The Imperator wrapped the chain and locket around his forearm once more, which then vanished. He then reached up to his face and pulled the half mask off, breathing deeply in the cool midnight air.

… Wait. Wait, I know you, The Marine thought as he beheld the man’s face.

“You remember me?”

I was there at your world. All those years ago. The bombs had already dropped, and you were barely setting out onto the haunted surface.

The Imperator nodded in confirmation.

What are you doing here?

“I could ask you the same now.”

The Marine paused as he pondered his answer.

I…don’t want to talk about it.

“You don’t have to. Sometimes, the best you can do is listen.”

The Imperator reattached his face mask and breathed deeply in.

“Look, Slayer. I know where you come from. I know what you’ve been through and the path of torment you choose to walk.

The Forsworn have already lost. They’ve failed in their missions and live condemned existences within this cursed realm, having turned their backs on their faiths and homelands, but you…There is still hope for you.

There is still a world for you to save, and you still have a purpose to fulfill.”

How? I’m not strong. I’m not as strong as I thought I was. Why can’t one of the Forsworn take up my mission? There are those here that are much stronger than I am.

“This is not their story.

It is yours.”

The Marine scoffed. His story was a fucking disappointment.

“If you compare yourself to others and hold yourself to their same standards, you will never reach your truest potential. This isn’t about them, you must embrace what is special about you.”

The Slayer couldn’t understand. How did you find me?

“It was revealed to me in a dream. I had a vision of you plunging into Hell once more, and I knew you would fall, so I commanded the Forsworn to your aid. I held the largest opponents back while the others extracted you.

There are forces beyond your sight involved, Slayer, that just as well seek to assist you.”

The Imperator paused to breathe in the cool midnight air and turn towards the simulated moon, no doubt absorbing the soft wind and sounds of running water. The Marine was fascinated. There was a pervasive sense of peace surrounding the warlord, in stark contrast to his ominous appearance, imposing aura, and the apocalyptic reputation that preceded him.

Even Dark Lords could find peace. Warriors facing their own deaths, soldiers that committed unpardonable sins. Yet the same evaded the Marine.

He wore a mask, much like himself. His face hadn’t been withered or monstrous like the Marine expected, but did he cover himself because he no longer recognized the face in his reflections?

He thought back to himself. Why did he never remove his helmet? Was it because the helmet had become his face? He’d forgotten the face of the brown-haired woman he kept seeing in his dreams, had he forgotten his own as well?

If he took off his helmet and looked in a mirror, what would he see reflected back?

The Imperator broke the silence. “Listen. I know it’s easy to fall into that thinking. To consider yourself worthless because of your failures and defeats, but that’s not true at all.

There is no weakness in losing, only in giving up.

You are not strong because you triumph over the demons. You are strong because you have the courage to face them.”

What do you mean?

The Imperator stood up and beckoned at the Marine. “Come with me.”

The Marine stood back up and before he knew it, the Imperator had already placed his hand on his shoulder and teleported them both to a tall dark hallway of the Jericho .

Woah.

The hall was flanked by those same colossal statues of masked humanoids with rifle-swords, who gazed impassively at them as they walked past.

Are they yours?

“Yes. These were my Hellrunners.

In my past, I was a dreadful warlord. I commanded millions, conquered billions, and slaughtered trillions.

With an iron fist, I restored order to my home and spread my dominion across realms and dimensions far, but there came a time when I realized I was no longer required.

My world no longer needed a tyrant, but wise leaders that could walk and live among them. My world had faced war long enough, and it finally deserved peace.

So I retreated. I yielded my throne, laid my armies to rest, and journeyed alone into this cursed realm as my world underwent the long road to healing.

That was when I encountered the Vadrigar.”

The mechanical aperture at the end of the hall opened as they approached, and the two stepped into a wide chamber illuminated by a dazzling violet light. The chamber was carved from marble and surrounded by towering pillars. At the center of the chamber floated a colossal resplendent crystal that emanated arcane power, surrounded by machinery that collected and redirected its energy.

They walked along a marble ramp that curved upwards along the side of the crystal, to the platform at the end of which stood the short pale figure of the High Priestess.

“The power core is operating at full capacity, my liege. But…?” She hesitantly asked when she saw the Marine beside the Imperator.

“It’s all right, I’ll take it from here. Get some rest, little one.”

The High Priestess bowed and walked past the two. “Good night, my liege.”

“Good night, little one.”

The Imperator walked up to the crystal and raised his hands, projecting and manipulating mystical glowing charts and graphs he cast from empty air.

“Your reality is much different from mine. My reality is not one of flesh and metal, but stone and bone. Yours is explicit, less surreal, more physical. There is no room for the arcane or abstract here.”

He altered one symbol and the power crystal began crackling wildly, spinning out of control as the machinery surrounding it sparked. The Marine raised his hands in alarm but the warlord calmly spun back a mystical dial and the crystal returned to normal.

“This world was not meant for me. I don’t belong here.”

The Marine blinked in confusion until he realized the warlord’s meaning.

You’re leaving.

“Not today. Not tomorrow. But a day will come when I must depart the Forsworn, and return to my world to lay down to rest. My watch has lasted long enough, and I hope to see it end.”

But without you…

“What comes to happen, will happen. I imagine you’re not familiar with the Loremaster?”

No.

“The Loremaster is a nonaligned deity that operates from Limbo, the no-man’s-land between Immortal Realms. I don’t trust him and he doesn’t trust me, but he studies and keeps chronicles on all matters across Creation, from far history to present affairs to distant future, and last I conversed with him, he raised dire warnings.

The seals around Tartarus are breaking.”

Oh fuck.

“Indeed. With every demonic invasion launched, the Old Gods of your universe rustle in their sleep. Even the other Immortal Realms besides Heaven and Hell become fearful by the increasing attacks.

And that’s not all. There are more reports of greater demons, commanded directly by the Heresiarchs, serving their dark masters across the dimensions. It may not be long before we see a demon lord, serving and blessed by none other than the Nameless One himself.”

Ohhhh…

“Even the Void grows restless. The black sea of nothingness at the edge of Creation beckons for a master to unite it under one will, something that may ultimately prove necessary.

Whoever unites the Void would gain the ultimate power in all Creation. The power of pure inexistence.”

…You can’t possibly mean-?

“I will not do it. The Loremaster fears I will unite the Void, and I myself fear what may come if I do.

That is why I founded the Forsworn. The greatest champions from all ages and all worlds, the mightiest warriors in the fight against Hell, ending the reign of Heresiarchs and putting an end to the Nameless One once and for all.”

And you would lead them?

“No,” the Imperator firmly declared as he spun around to face the Marine. “You will.”

The Marine stared blankly at the warlord and sighed.

You’ve got the wrong man. I’m not a warlord, a conqueror, or a commander. I’m just a destroyer. I only bring death and ruin, I can’t be their leader.

“You’ll be more than that. You’ll be their hero, and you’ll be their king.”

How? I’ve lost all my strength. I’ve lost the Praetor Suit. I’ve lost everything I held dear, and I’m losing fight after fight.

The Night Sentinels believed in me, and I failed them.

I’m not a hero. I can’t be a leader, and I’m unworthy of being king.

“You’re worthy,” the Imperator assured as he laid his hand on the Marine’s shoulder, “because you haven’t lost one thing: your fire. Because after endless fighting and unspeakable torment, that flame still burns in you.

There’s a hero in you, Slayer. Everyone sees it.

The Forsworn see it. The Warden sees it. Typhon sees it. They push you so hard because they see it. I see it.

Now you need to see it!”

The Marine felt overwhelmed. It was all so daunting, like he had the world resting atop his shoulders.

“Listen to me,” the Imperator urged as he grabbed the Marine’s other shoulder and looked him in the eye. “True strength lies not in conquering every battle, but in having the courage to keep fighting.

You don’t have to win every fight. What matters is living to fight another day.”

The Marine stared at the Imperator and felt his words echo in his mind.

True strength lies…not in winning, but in not giving up? It felt strange. It went against everything the Marine knew and everything he’d come to accept.

The Imperator sighed and backed away.

“You know, I didn’t recruit the Forsworn on my own. I offered them shelter and protection, but they all still had a fire within them, one lit by someone else. A legend whispered by peoples throughout the cosmos, one that reaches further across worlds and ages than you could ever know.

There was once an idea. The idea that against all evil, all wickedness and malice that could ever exist, there would be a man. One man to fight for everything that was pure and innocent, right and just in the world. One man that walked the darkness where none would, and brought justice where none could. One that faced impossible odds and held the line against overwhelming evil.

This hero was incorruptible. Undying. Unbreakable. A paragon of strength in a bleak world, and a beacon of hope all did admire. One that all looked up to, even strived to be like.”

The Marine was surprised. Someone else helped found the Forsworn, a champion and hero to the peoples of the cosmos?

Really? Who was it?

The Imperator released a low chuckle.

“It’s true, we are all blind to our weaknesses, but we’re also blind to our true strengths.

One day, Slayer, you’ll understand. And when you’re ready, if you choose to take it, that crown will be yours.”

The warlord patted the Marine’s shoulder. He said nothing, but lowered his head and let the words settle into his heart.

He scoffed. I didn’t expect such wisdom from a Dark Lord.

“I learned from the best. Master Wan is a great teacher.”

The Marine looked up. You studied under Wan?

The Imperator nodded. “He taught me patience, focus, discipline.

He also taught me his Serious Punch. It formed the basis…”

The Imperator suddenly stepped out and thrust his right fist forward, a technique clearly based on but firmer and more militaristic than Wan’s. There was no devastating shockwave produced but the Marine could feel the very restraint and massive power contained behind the warlord’s stonelike fist.

“...for my Thunder Punch. If you ask him, he will teach you too.”

The Marine thought about it but nodded.

“Speaking of which, I have something to show you.”

The Imperator held out his hands and in them manifested a firearm. Rich carved wood, glinting metal, and an electric red crystal mounted beneath the two barrels.

Whoa! The Marine thought as he gently took the double-barreled shotgun. Is this yours?

“I built it myself. It utilizes explosive shells, and the crystal discharges explosive lightning bolts.

Its name is Shellshocker.”

The Marine chuckled as he inspected the weapon. The craftsmanship was impeccable, its power was palpable, and its name was simple, direct, and clever.

I dig it, he thought as he felt the weight and heft of the firearm in his hands. It was much heavier than his current super shotgun but comparable to his ancient Retribution. There’ll never be a shortage of glowing swords, laser guns, and magic powers to go around, but for my money, the most important weapon in any warrior’s arsenal is the simple, old-fashioned, and reliable double-barreled shotgun.

“I built it…with inspiration from your own.”

The Marine looked up from the firearm.

I…inspired you ?

The Imperator nodded. “What do you think? Is it a…worthy weapon?”

The Marine grinned and nodded at the firearm in his hands.

It’s fantastic.

Hmm. If I were you, I would wire the electrocrystal discharge circuit to be continuously live instead of activated only when you press the secondary trigger. You save yourself the cast time and have it released as soon as you pull the trigger.

“But these electrocrystals are exceedingly unstable. Won’t that cause the energy to feed back and overload?”

Not if you install a venting system for when the crystal is fully charged. The discharge function will recharge on its own, and you can leave the circuit active without worry of overloading. Any excess energy will be safely vented.

“I see.”

The Marine handed the firearm back to the Imperator, who took it and dispelled it back into thin air.

Thank you…for your wisdom.

“Of course. And thank you, for taking it.”

* * *

Hiro and Elena sat with their backs against the wall in the Lazarus Labs. The sounds of gunfire and roars of shrieking demons echoed in the distance, but the survivors paid them no mind.

The gunslinger painfully coughed and grabbed his injured arm.

“So…the Doom Marine,” he began. “What do you reckon he is?”

“I’m not sure.”

“That hologram of Doctor Pierce said he was present at all those worlds. Phobos, Argent D’Nur, Mars in the past, Mars now. Right before all those worlds were invaded and destroyed by demons.

Almost like, Hell follows him.”

“But, Agent Taylor said he fights the demons. She said he opposes them.”

“Miss, the demons already oppose each other. They fight and kill one another by their simple nature.

You remember how Agent Taylor became stronger the more she became demonized? Someone with as much strength to fight demons the way the Doom Marine does…must be a demonized human of the greatest degree.

Hell follows him because he’s own of their own. Maybe even Rogers was right.

Maybe he really is their king.”

Elena said nothing but looked down at the ground, quietly contemplating the implications.

“If that’s the source of his power, that must be why…Agent Taylor knew something. The Doom Marine was contained here on Mars before the invasion occured. Doctor Hayden was the one who released him.

The UAC also kept demons, studied them and exploited them. There’d been many breaches, but Hayden never released him until today. He was the last-case contingency plan.”

“Because he is the enemy of mankind.”

Elena slowly nodded.

“Damn. And now he’s out there somewhere, no doubt setting his sights on Earth. Wish we could have warned them.”

The gunfire had stopped. The two could hear marching footsteps approaching from the adjacent corridors, and Elena shuddered as she felt the presence of the soldiers without names.

“I’m sorry, miss,” Hiro consoled as he placed his arm around her. “I’m sorry Agent Taylor didn’t make it back.

I’m sorry I couldn’t get you out of here.”

A tear rolled from Elena’s eye and she rested her head on the gunslinger’s shoulder.

“Elena. My name’s Elena.”

* * *

I entered a transportation deck after leaving the Foundry, filled with pallets and trolleys carrying cargo crates. My upgraded radar showed no enemies nearby, so I allowed myself to lower my guard somewhat as I investigated certain open crates.

They were filled with tools and equipment for research, excavation, mining, maintenance. Oddly enough, I even one containing aquatic envirosuits.

“Dive suits? What the hell are dive suits doing on a planetary colony?”

“ Don’t you know?” Colonel Johnson responded. “ Europa has an underground ocean of water beneath the ice layer.

Extends for miles beneath the surface. Has more water than all the oceans of Earth combined.”

“Really?”

“ Absolutely.”

They must be diving to search for minerals. Maybe that’s how this entire colony first started, I thought as I left the dive suits behind and moved on.

“John.”

I’d seen it. An ominous red crate in stark contrast to the steel-gray boxes behind it, bearing a dark and sinister sigil on its casing. Walking over to it and looking over the open edge, I found it full of small carved artifacts. I picked one up and observed the familiar biomechanical surface.

“These aren’t just any demonic relics, they’re Deraki artifacts.

And these aren’t just trinkets, they’re serums to create stimulants. Trigger cores for guns. Soul orbs. Mind-control drives. Seeds for…organic armor suits?

My God. This is high-level shit.

Mixom couldn’t have stolen this from the Deraki.”

“ Mixom made a bargain with the Deraki. In exchange for objects of interest, the Deraki would give them artifacts and technologies of great power.”

“What does Mixom have that the Deraki could possibly want?”

“ That’s what I’m still trying to find out.”

I perused through the artifact some more looking for anything of use when I found it.

“Whoa!”

I reached in and pulled out a strange device consisting of several fleshy growths pulsating around a mechanical core. The device cast a fiery glow and was palpably radiating power.

“I’ll put this one to very good use.”

Checking my motion tracker to ensure I was alone, I opened my chassis and brought the device close to my core and beating Heart of Lothar before igniting the device and placing it inside.

FWOOOOSH!!

“WHOA-HO-HO-HO!”

The fleshy device ignited and released crackling fiery tissue into my body as I levitated into the air in a vortex of arcane power. The artifact was absorbed into my chassis, the energy dissipated, and I fell to the floor as my chestplate sealed once more.

Checking my HUD, I found the red bar that displayed my health had permanently doubled in size.

“Now we’re COOKING with GAS!”

* * *

The Marine breathed weakly within his chamber. He hadn’t slept in almost two weeks and hardly eaten in that time either. His mind was clouded by a dense fog that made thought all but impossible. He was drenched in sweat, his lacerations had split open and resumed bleeding, and he felt crushed beneath an unfathomable exhaustion.

But still he forced himself to stay awake. He couldn’t go back to sleep. He couldn’t endure anymore the dreams of longing, or the nightmares of past and future. What if he closed his eyes and a thousand years passed before he woke up again? What if he never awoke at all?

He sat on the edge of the bed, his hands shaking as he clenched the sheets, feeling his life seeping with every breath he took and his vision wobbling in and out of focus. He was festering, rotting in both mind and body. Dying.

Tap tap tap. Someone knocked lightly on the door. He made no response. The door creaked open and a lone dark figure passed through, who closed the door again as she approached him.

If Valeria’s servant was surprised by seeing the Marine in such a state, she made no indication of it. With a dry towel, the hooded servant wiped his forehead, chest, and back, the bandages wrapped around his body drenched in sweat and blood. She unraveled the bandages around his arms and cleaned his wounds with healing elixir before redressing them with new bandages. Still, the Marine made no response.

The servant then began unraveling the bandages around his chest that covered the ghastly lesion over his heart. She pulled the bindings but these were matted together and wouldn’t come undone. She calmly reached into her cloak and pulled a silver dagger.

THERE!

In an abrupt surge of violence, the Marine grabbed the servant’s hand and pinned her by the throat to the wall as her hood and veil came down, finding himself staring into the golden eyes of the horned red-skinned Succubus.

Did you hope to find me defenseless?

The demon did not choke as he held it to the wall even with his reduced strength, only painfully squirmed and gazed at him in a manner that mimicked supplication.

You made a mistake to come here, Succubus.

“...Please, my lord. I am no Succubus.”

The demon spoke. Not in a sensuous infernal tongue, but in ancient Hebrew and with the hushed and pained voice of an ordinary human woman. Her other hand rested on the Marine’s arm which clutched at her throat but she did not retaliate or make any effort to release his grip.

“I am a nymph, cursed to this form by my sin in mortal life.

My name…ugh. My name is Dahlia.”

The Marine thrust her against the wall again and cracked the stone to silence her.

I don’t give a fuck what you call yourself, demon.

The demon squinted in pain and struggled to speak through the Marine’s steel grip.

“...Please, my lord…I only wish to help…”

Hissing in anger, the Marine released his grip and thrust the demon away as he wrestled the knife from her hand. She landed upon the bed and gazed at him with a fearful expression, her cloak falling open to reveal a crimson body and simple servant’s clothes.

Do you think I am stupid? I know what your kind is like, he thought as he approached her with knife in hand, limping on legs which threatened to collapse from exhaustion. Lecherous, treacherous, vulturous. How many warriors did you lead to their death?

How many men did you steal their lives from?

The demon’s mouth made a movement as if stifling a cry, an act that the Marine didn’t fall for. Leaping on top of her, he pinned her to the bed and shifted his grip on the knife.

Did you really think I would be such easy prey?

I’ve killed BIGGER, and worse than you.

“My lord, I assure you…I swear no fealty to Hell or its dark masters.”

Save your breath, harlot. I’ve grown immune to the witchery of your foul kind.

The Marine took a grip of both her hands and pressed his helmeted face close to hers. A sweet scent of spices filled his nose, but did not dissuade his intentions.

I’ve slaughtered millions of vermin like you, and you will not be the last.

He raised the demon’s hands above her head to expose her heart, and raised the knife above himself as his hand ignited in crimson flames. The demon looked away and closed her eyes. A scorching fury blazed within the Marine’s heart and an ancient vow reverberated in his mind.

Burn the heretic. Kill the demon. Purge the sinner.

There is no innocence, only guilt.

There is no forgiveness, only execution.

May God forgive their souls once they kneel before His presence.

May a thousand innocents perish before a single one kneels to Hell.

SUFFER NOT THE UNCLEAN TO LIVE.

His arm tensed and he prepared to bring the blade down when a sudden glint caught his gaze, a single fiery tear running from the demon’s shut eyes. His grip wavered and his frown faded.

A tear? The demon was…crying?

He had never known a demon to cry.

She was crying. Not snarling at him or attempting to rip his throat out, but quietly weeping with soft stifled cries. She hadn’t responded with aggression or even begged for her life.

Looking down from the demon’s face, the Marine saw the many scars and bruises across her body, concealed by her red skin. They weren’t the marks of demon infighting, but scratches and attacks from alien and human hands. He could already see the welts on her throat from his own hand, directly above the golden Star of David hanging by a simple twine.

That night, when he saw her in the river under the moonlight…she wasn’t bathing, she was baptizing herself. In the chapel where he saw her praying…she was making peace with her God. She wasn’t fighting back because she knew she was about to die.

She came into his chamber so that he would kill her.

His chest grew tight. His breath caught in his throat and his eyes watered. With shaking hands, the flames around the knife dispelled and the dagger clattered loudly to the floor, causing the nymph to jump and her golden eyes to open in startlement.

The Forsworn. The Imperator. Taylor. How long had they been exposed to Hell that the Dark Realm corroded their bodies and corrupted their souls? What mistakes did they commit that their sins altered their very being, their shame marked on their faces?

If he took his helmet off and gazed in a mirror, what would he find gazing back?

The Marine fell back with mouth open in abject horror and tears pouring from his eyes, horrified at what he’d been about to do and what he’d resolved himself to.

Oh, God. How did I end this way? Where did I go wrong?

What have I become?

Dahlia sat up on the bed and gazed at the Marine with endless confusion. “My lord…why do you weep?”

He cried harder. His curse of silence prevented him from making even the slightest sound, but he gasped and heaved as he looked away to hide his shame from the woman.

Warily, the nymph crawled along the bed until she reached him. The Marine drowned in his own sorrow too much to notice.

Suddenly, he felt soft hands on his helmet. The nymph gently turned his head towards her and pressed her forehead against his, and he felt her siphon his grief away, the pain and remorse melting until they were faded. The nymph backed away and looked at him with bright golden eyes, which still wept bright fiery tears.

He felt hurt. So cold. Empty. Lonely.

Did she feel the same?

The Marine raised his hand to the nymph’s face and caressed her cheek. Her eyes closed and she shuddered at the touch, slowly raising both hands to clasp his hand with her own. He passed his fingers across her cheek, her eyes, her hair, her lips. Soft, not the impossible softness of a Succubus, but the worldly tenderness of an ordinary human.

If he looked her in the eye and showed the broken things inside, would she run away?

His hand moved lower, caressing the curves of her neck until he reached the tattered fabric around her chest. With a mind fogged by exhaustion, his hand seemed to act on its own and slowly pulled the fabric off. The nymph closed her eyes and sighed at the contact, and as he began to caress her, she released a quiet moan while biting her lower lip.

This wasn’t right. None of this was right, a voice urged at the back of the Marine’s head. She was a demon, he was the Slayer. This wasn’t meant to happen. He backed away from the nymph but she reached out and grabbed his hand, and to his surprise he found himself unable to let go.

“It’s all right, my lord.”

She tentatively reached out to remove his helmet but he stopped her, holding her hands as he looked away in shame. He couldn’t bear to have her see whatever lay behind the visor.

The nymph understood but pulled him back onto the bed on top of her, the two of them weeping as they gazed longingly at each other, racing hearts burning with desire. Her touch was warm, so warm. He felt he could die from her touch alone, as if his icy body would crumble and break. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d felt a tender touch.

If she saw his darkest parts, the wicked things inside his heart, would she run away?

Or was she the same?

The nymph spread her legs and brought him close to her. Two sinners abandoned by God, vagrant souls finding solace only in each other. His body burned with desire yet he felt as if drowning. Drunk on lust, drowning in her. She was his fire, his thrill, his death. His breath fogged in his visor and his heart hammered in his chest. He couldn’t hold back any longer, couldn’t resist the call of Hell. He had ceased to be the Slayer regardless. If it all ended here, immolated in their love infernal, so be it.

“It’s all right. Do as you wish with me.

Give me your pain. Give me your hate.

Give me your all."

* * *

KILLS - 2%

SECRETS - 27

TIME - 10:00