Seeing his thunder bull level the building before himself, Mungke felt real good about himself. The defenders, this miserable and worthless trash the locals had called the Provincial Army, whined and died beneath the swings of his axe, their blood painting his new domain. His warriors came in behind him, eradicating anyone daring as much as raising their eyes at their Khan, while Mungke himself kept on charging, swinging his great axe over his head.

Iron Lord had told him not to attack strongly, but what were they to be afraid of? The people here were worse than slaves; they were, may the Sky forgive him, cattle. Livestock. There were hundreds of screaming fools all around him, and none thought of picking up the weapons of the dead defenders. If this is how they value their freedom, then the horde is doing them a favor by chaining them to a higher purpose.

Struggle! This was the Gilded Horde’s way. Rather than lying and dying during famines and droughts, all faithful sons and daughters of the Sky would gather into a raiding clan and invade their neighbors, taking by force what the land denied them by right. Mungke himself has eradicated forty rival khans, dragging their useless offspring to the pyre and offering the Sky the life essence of youth. Purebloods, Mungke among them, ate their fill and adorned their swollen bodies with gold and jewelry to show off their status and danger.

Big was his own clan. Forty sons, not counting the ever-stupid dog-spawn Amal, charged across these lands, subjugating all. Three thousand pureblooded sons of the Sky! Over forty thousand bondsmen, but truth be told, no one was counting them. Sky riders, sky strikers, thunder bulls, siege engines… He had it all now.

Mad Hatter was a cruel mistress. She came from the steppe one day, mercilessly slaughtering any Khan stupid enough to resist her and uniting others. Ancient forges and long-forgotten factories were reopened on her orders. Any who resisted her soon found themselves being burned alive in furnaces; their flesh and bones merged with newly produced weapons, and their screaming souls fed the cruel Sky.

But she was also generous with all who served her. Sure, a sudden word might spell your doom, and Mungke still owed his salvation to Brood Lord. But at the same time, the woman cared not for personal glory; her own clan was a tiny thing, populated by thirty elders and five kids living in a few huts. Meanwhile, lands, slaves, food, drinks, authority… everything was going straight to the lesser khans. His own lands were swollen with riches now, and fresh wives arrived to bring much-needed vitality to his clan.

Ah… He smiled, cleaving through another whining body. There will be much slaughter once I die. A most glorious war which will see his true heir come on top. Such was the Gilded Horde way.

The ground itself trembled and cracked beneath his thunder bull, and nearby cars shook in tune with the tremors. His eyes spied a towering building at the other end of the plaza. Its mighty walls endured a direct hit from a heavy laser cannon, leaving just a scorched mark on the once pristine hall. Artillery shells fell from the skies, filling the streets with pleasant screams. They too collapsed against these sturdy walls, barely knocking small stones off them.

And on the stones before the main entrance lay his warriors. Dead. More bondsmen and purebloods charged in, but they were all quickly cut down by blindingly white shadows emerging from the doors. The famous doggies! Only these weren’t like the dead in front of the building, no. These doggies were clad in armor, wielding long swords and carrying pistols in their other paws. The bastards were almost dancing among the attackers, hacking and slashing while tricking his own soldiers to shoot each other.

Mungke’s eyes narrowed at this sight; he had given Amal a direct order to eradicate all resistance in this region. Clearly, his son ran off hunting for something else.

“Call a sky striker,” Mungke said calmly upon noticing fire from the top of the building. His fingers clenched the axe.

“I am sorry, my khan,” a warrior nearby replied, exposing his neck in shame. “Amal has just summoned the last sky striker available to…”

“Son of a whore!” The thunder bull rose, feeling his rage. “I will drown him after the battle is done! Sky strikers are mine to command! Mine!”

Mungke Khan hit the neck of his steed with the axe, and it charged forward, no longer advancing methodically but charging at full speed. Manholes jumped in the air. Cars fell to the side. Bondsmen toppled. Even his own warriors surged to the sides, allowing Mungke’s apocalyptic passage to come freely. No more. He will tolerate this useless spawn of his no more! He had gifted him command, artillery, and warriors, and this bastard dares to steal precious assets from him, making Mungke break his leisure conquest? Fine, he will prove himself, but this will be the last time!

Mungke reached the stairs leading to the grandiose building, catching one of the doggies with his axe. The creature whined in pain as its body was lifted into the air. Two more were trampled by his trusted storm bull, and Mungke gleefully laughed, seeing their bodies reduced to pools of blood and broken steel. His personal guard surged in the opening made by his advance, coming face-to-face against defenders.

He felt his blood run hot after seeing a shot tear a chunk of flesh from his thunder bull. Several more hits slammed into his oversized bulk, making him grimace in pain as the projectiles stuck in his girth. Mungke tapped his steed on its flat head, allowing it to go wild, while he himself spun his axe around, cleaving through two heads.

This place should have fallen by now! Every second he and his people were busy fighting meant a second of Iron Lord getting closer. Once his troops joined the fray, they could demand a share of captured supplies and slaves, depriving Mungke’s clan of their righteous spoils! Worse, Brood Lord might join, stealing valuable women.

But the damned fools fought too well! Even with their backs against the walls, the doggies still managed to form ranks, even pushing back his soldiers here and there. Individually slightly stronger than his purebloods, when combined with the fact that this sturdy building has been providing them with a cover and with their iron discipline, the situation simply does not allow him to bring forth the entire might of his clan upon the enemies.

The Horde excelled at fighting in open spaces. Fast-moving and oblivious to losses, they have been striking hard, testing enemy defenses in one area, only to fall back and turn the opposition into ashes with long-ranged weaponry, while the warriors circled around the enemy, striking at a weaker spot. Here, in this kingdom of stone and steel, his troops felt suffocated.

Maybe it would be wise to wait for reinforcements. Mungke pondered while taking the lives of three doggies who wielded oversized shields and opening a path to their fellows for his troops. He was losing quite a number of soldiers and did not know what his foolish son was doing. Maybe he teamed up with Iron Lord to usurp him? Alas, this place was like an unguarded hawk’s egg. Too tasty to let go and plenty of calories for sustenance, even with the threat of a giant bird ready to return and devour the intruder.

No. This place will be mine. At first, he was against Mad Hatter’s plans for further expansion. But upon seeing these lands, teeming with life, with gorgeous plains, an abundance of water, and deep forests, he changed his opinion. His clan will settle here, and centuries later, his descendants will sing throat songs, honoring his wisdom. They will learn from the locals, no longer relying on merchants to create engines of war. Maybe they will even learn how to farm! This ridiculous thought brought a smile to Mungke’s lips, and he ignored the sound of broken bones when his thunder bull advanced again.

I only need something to tip the scales… The khan laughed, seeing the answer to all his troubles.

Another doggie came into battle, or rather, appeared. This one was taller than others, towering like a pillar of black void around the battlefield. The mutant wielded a sword matching the color of his armor. Blows of this deadly weapon left behind only sliced bodies—bondsmen and purebloods alike. There was no mercy or hesitation in his movements; without even seeing foes converging at his rear, the warrior sidestepped, slashing once and stealing three lives from the khan.

Most bullets failed to reach the armor, and those few that struck him harmlessly bounced off the dark surface. The warrior came to a halt, making a cut in the air, leaving a dark pillar in place. He danced away, never once stepping on his fallen troops but crashing Mungke’s wounded soldiers beneath the steel boots. The enemy leader, Mungke was sure now of his rank, moved away from his soldiers, creating a bloody path straight into the purebloods ranks.

The black knight reached for his belt, throwing several grenades underneath his very legs. Without a hint of panic or hesitation, the man sliced the soldier before him in two, creating another black pillar. And stepped through it.

“Fools! Back away!” Mungke roared, seeing his warriors surrounding the foes. He kicked his beast, leading it closer to the first black pillar.

Superiors, the name given to them by the priests, were people gifted by the Sky with some unusual power. Be it the ability to pass through space like Phaser or cause rage like Drozna, all of them generally stood above purebloods. Generally was the key world.

Mungke has killed superiors before. How could he not, when the glowing poison tainted the horde’s lands? Be it some uppity youngster in his own clan, a rival leader, or an arrogant offspring dreaming of usurping his rule, Mungke has ended them all. Dangerous they may be, once you figure out their trick, they become manageable.

There were few reasons for this individual to step into the fray so boldly, and Mungke quickly discarded the bloodthirst. Too professional, too classy. At first, he had assumed the first pillar to be a sort of time bomb, but seeing how the bastard stepped into his own darkness cleared things out.

I figured you out. Mungke smiled.

Explosions threw his warriors into the air, tearing away legs and limbs. These were not simple grenades. Pure acid got splattered by the initial shockwave, melting its way through the steel and flesh of his loyal troops. Veterans of dozens of conquests recoiled, retreating away from the rapidly hissing pool of destruction, exposing their allies, and showing their backs to the other enemies in the process.

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Mungke swung his axe, ramming its blade against the black knight as he jumped from the first pillar. His first strike opened a crack in the enemy’s shoulder, only for the mutant to roll aside soundlessly. The knight jumped to his feet, meeting the following strike head-on with his blade.

“Enough of this,” Mungke said calmly, struggling to keep his rage down. “You have cost me lives. I challenge you to a duel. Name and rank?”

“I am Macarius Voidrunner, Sword Saint of the Voidrunner Household,” the doggie responded, pushing the axe away from his body. “Duel accepted. You are?”

“Your end.” Mungke kicked, and his thunder bull vomited at the enemy.

Thunder bulls were highly valuable beasts back home. Sturdy, loyal, and easily trained, they served as excellent cavalry when clans fell on hard times and lacked access to weaponry. Prime stock bulls, like the one that belonged to Iron Lord and, to a lesser extent, the one that belonged to Mungke, elevated their level of toughness by enduring severe wounds and rarely showing signs of panic. When someone needed stones to move or tear the very ground apart to reach the precious water, traders were always nearby, eager to sell their beast.

But there was one thing that truly put thunder bulls above other animals. They were omnivorous, capable of surviving on both corpses and plants. Steel, stone, bones… all were broken down by the acidic fluids of thunder bulls’ bodies, making it unheard of to have such beasts die from hunger. Should any thunder bull die from starvation, priests from all around gathered the clans, plunging them into a righteous fury, and led them to eradicate the clan responsible for such a heinous act. For thunder bulls were a gift from the Sky. To somehow misuse and lose one of their numbers in such a manner meant the height of incompetency.

And now the contents of Mungke’s thunder bull came upon Voidrunner, drenching him in filth and acid. The black cloak fell from the shoulders, slowly disappearing in the wake of the strongest acid known to the horde. The lenses of the enemy’s helmet twitched and went dim, going offline from the damage. Mungke used this momentum to land double blows, making a number 8 in the air with his axe. The first strike was blocked; even blinded, the Sword Saint’s skills were nothing to scoff at. But the second came home, cracking the pauldron.

Simple. So simple. Mungke smiled, driving his beast forward. Lost eyesight? Use ears instead. But the hissing of acid and the sounds of battle have messed up the enemy’s concentration. Skills? Who needs them? Only victory matters. The bull’s head charged into the doggie and the mutant allowed himself to be propelled backward.

Mungke grabbed his rifle from the seat and opened fire at the Macarius. In the past, one of his stupid daughters tried to shoot him with it when he gave her hand to Iron Lord. The foolish girl had her wrist snapped after the first bullet left the barrel, unable to handle the recoil despite being a pureblood. When Mungke fired the weapon, he barely felt any inconvenience.

The wall behind the black knight collapsed, riddled by the oversized bullets. His armor trembled, with fist-sized dents appearing all over it. Swinging his axe once more, Mungke aimed to end the battle when the doggie dove to the side, tearing the helmet off his head. He rose from the ground, his armor cracked, filth covering the entire body, and hissing steam rising from the armor joints. Yet the sword in his paws sang its melody like a perfect bard, blocking the incoming hail of bullets without fault. Mungke felt a tingle of unease, seeing muscles bulging around the crimson eyes and the crimson eyes giving off an unnatural light.

“You have come to our lands,” Macarius said, his clear voice slicing its way through the cacophony of war like his sword cutting its path through bodies. “Brought death and destruction where peace reigned. For this, I, Macarius Voidrunner, condemn you.”

“Piece of shit,” Mungke cursed, hearing the empty click of his rifle.

He kicked the thunder bull, making it step to the left just as Macarius came upon him. The thunder bull’s rough hide, capable of withstanding minor explosions and gunfire, parted like water before the black sword, and the creature grunted, more annoyed than scared, when the blade severed muscles and cracked the bone of its leg. Thunder bulls were many things, but they were not cowards. Thankfully for his steed, Mungke had no intention of letting such a prized exemplar disappear in vain.

A hail of gunfire, explosives, and energy weapons came upon the exposed knight’s back, driving him off his feet. Mungke laughed, bringing down his own axe when Macarius tried to create another pillar of darkness in the air. This. This was the turning point. His soldiers fired at the exposed enemy leader, driving the white-furred bastards first into a stupor of disbelief, then into a maddening rage as they surged forward, trying to get to their leader.

Only to become target practice for his own troops. The pureblood veterans, led by his own children, flanked the incoming charge, cutting the doggies from the building behind and firing their weapons at point blank. Hulking laser cannon carriers have finally arrived, melting the upper stones of this building along with a few snipers trying to hide there. Roaring like thousands of buzzing bees, hover bikes charged through the battlefield, racing up the walls. Once on the roof, the riders started their hunt, gathering a rich harvest in the Sky’s name.

And amidst it all, the thunder bull reared on its leg. Mungke’s single swing staggered the so-called Sword Saint. Dozens of shots put the fool even further off balance when, with a very satisfying sound of bent metal, the thunder bull brought its good leg down. The impact cratered the fool, exposing his head just enough for Mungke to hack one ear away, burying his axe into the shoulder.

This! This was the horde’s way of fighting! Duels, honor, mercy—outsiders may have lived with these foolish notions, but the horde knew better. From the lowest bondsman to the highest pureblood, all knew a simple fact of life. If you lose, you perish. Either an enemy cuts you down or tortures you to death. Or you escape and grow weak enough for others to raid your lands. Or you die from starvation and thirst along with your clan.

To live is to win. To thrive is to subjugate the weak. To stay free is to ride forward. These were simple rulers in the steppe. Anything else was just delusion. Show hesitation, show procrastination, and the steppe won’t forgive such weakness. A Khan must never lose. This is the lesson Mungke will teach this fool before offering his burning remains to the Sky.

Mungke grabbed his axe in both hands, seeing how the Sword Saint cut his way from underneath a mighty foot. The axe came down with a force enough to level a building or to cleave through a thunder bull’s head. The Sword Saint tried to block the hit, only for his weapon to get buried in the stone and his armor to gain a fresh scar. Mungke moved his long axe right up, ramming its blade into Macarius chest with enough impact to break through the chest plate. The thunder bull followed suit, headbutting the doggie straight into the building’s side.

“His head is mine!” The khan laughed, once more unburned by the prolonged combat. “I claim his armor, his bones, his weapon, and his wives…”

A howl silenced his laughter. Someone landed on the stone ground before the building, sending cracks in all directions. A beam of energy came from within the rising cloud of smoke, hitting the thunder bull in the eye and making the animal stand on its hind legs in anguish. Mungke barely had time to get off the seat when the thunder bull was pushed back.

The animal, heavier than any battle tank, roared in anguish and spat out a glob of blood from its mouth. Its body trembled, trying desperately to get away from the cruel axe buried in the flesh above its groin. The guttural roar changed into a shriek of pain when the figure in dark power armor pushed its weapon deeper, tearing through guts and collapsing the beast on its back.

Mungke landed next to his fallen steed, his axe in hand. At first, he assumed that Macarius somehow got back into the fight, but upon closer inspection, this was a new foe. She hacked her way through the side of the dying thunder bull; the blackness of her brutish-looking armor became wet with blood and entangled with guts. The newcomer had black fur showing in the open maw of her helmet, and the axe in her oversized paw made his own weapon tiny.

A Warlord. Here? Brood Lord told them all these fools were stuck in Houstad!

He spent no time asking or panicking, gesturing for his troops to open fire at the enemy. More fools for the slaughter, who cares? Mungke thundered forward, intending to add one more enemy leader to his tally, and nearly paid with his life.

This doggie was fast! Brood Lord has told him that the fundamental difference between black-furred and white-furred mutants was that white mutants were faster but had a harder time recovering from wounds, while black doggies were hardy beings but less fast than their kin. Yet here it was: this creature leaped at him with enough force to make the pavement shake like water, riddling his nearby soldiers with stone shards. Bullets and explosives hit the space she occupied just a moment ago, while she was already next to him, swinging her weapon.

Mungke took the hit on the shaft of his axe and felt his bones trembling and his legs going into the stone. This creature… It wasn’t weaker than the Sword Saint, whom he fought just a moment ago! No, she was even stronger! But how could it be? The spy told them of the enemy’s internal structure, mentioning the five strongest Warlords and Sword Saints. And she wasn’t in the info!

“I…” Mungke groaned, feeling his weapon bend in his arms. The shockwave from the collision toppled nearby soldiers, slamming his eyes with enough force to make him bleed. “What are you standing for?! Disassemble the whore!”

Flame has burst at the rooftops, leaving one of his riders screaming and collapsing. Still struggling against this fiend, the khan looked up and felt his blood turn to ice. More black-furred. Quite a lot more. Dozens, if not hundreds, were here, the oculars of their power armor lit with crimson. Almost as if replying to his look, they announced their arrival with a bone-chilling howl, throwing grenades down.

Domes of acid came into reality, separating the fighters and giving the damned black-furred a chance to recover. Not waiting for the deadly acid to calm itself on the stone, the howling packs jumped off the building, coming down in a deadly rain. They landed on the purebloods, burying their fangs deep into their necks or simply shooting people’s heads off. An explosion in the rear made Mungke worry that something had happened to his artillery as well.

But he wasn’t scared. They outnumbered the foe ten to one. It is just a matter of time before they reduce their numbers to a manageable level. He just needs to hold on…

A huge blade cleaved the laser carrier in two, causing it to fall. A figure rose from behind, just as big as the first Warlord. Screams followed from within the building, and another towering beast came out, wreathed in flames coming from the arm of a nearby Wolfkin. With a single kick, the Warlord sent the burning bondsmen in her path to the sides and struck with a scythe, cleaving a bloody path through the ranks of attackers. Where other Wolfkins howled and reveled in tearing their enemies apart, this one moved slowly, her attack methodically but always deadly.

I am not facing a single Warlord! Mungke panicked, trying to push the bitch before him back and retreat. There are three of them here!

He pushed with all his might, driving the small hill of muscle and steel before him just a step back. The Warlord responded by cleaving through his weapon and tearing off part of his armor along with his left nipple.

Mungke turned and ran, shouting orders for Amal to come back at once, screaming for his sons to aid him. Several blasted Wolfkins jumped in his path; one unleashed a stream of fire into his eyes, and when Mungke tried to beat the insignificant insect into the ground, a female leaped on his neck, tearing off flesh. In his rage, Mungke grabbed the woman, feeling metal beneath the armor shielding one of her legs. He ignored the feeling, crumpling the armored collar of her neck, only to let the mutant go with a scream of pain. One of the doggies had thrown a grenade at his back, searing him with acid. With trembling fingers, Mungke tried to reach for the combat knives when the Warlord tackled him.

Stone crashed beneath his back, and the creature ended up mounting him, leaving her axe behind. Mungke has grabbed one of his knives just in time for the Warlord to land a single punch against his face. He screamed wordlessly, sensing his lips getting torn and his teeth turning into dust under the pressure of mighty claws. Another paw followed, grabbing his upper jaw, while the first paw grabbed his lower jaw.

Mungke no longer felt good. Even anger abandoned him. He pissed and wet himself, panicking at the feeling of his palate being ruined and writhing in pain at the destruction of his gums. He died when the giant Warlord tore his head in two, dragging the torn lower jaw all the way to his belly, finally tearing it away along with a long streak of skin.