Forty-two kilometers from the Techno-Queen’s former capital, a raiding party flowed into action. These men and women seldom dared operate so brazenly in these lands, having been taught a harsh lesson by the madwoman as to what exactly awaits those who dare enslave her subject without her permission. But she died, and the conquerors demonstrated a stunning lack of awareness.
Raiders and marauders often followed the Reclaimers, satisfying their greed with the scraps left in their wake. An occasional family here, a hundred runaways there, had earned them the gratitude of the slave masters of the Soultakers, the body tinkerers of the mystic west, and the pleasure seekers of the far east. More importantly, the slaves brought rich bounties and the unparalleled thrill of the hunt.
But today, the raiders’ leader wanted more. The humiliation she had suffered at the hands of the accused doggies burned into her soul. Two months ago, a horde of parasite-ridden filth had tracked a smaller party to its lair and assaulted it, dismantling the raider alliance. Such alliances, often resulting in gangs backstabbing their fellows, held no significance. The raider even respected the way these Abnormals had tracked them down and poached the poachers.
No, what enraged the leader was the loss of precious young children, ripe to be sold in the eastern pleasure markets. She had gone to such lengths to keep the children unspoiled, even stopping herself from tasting their virginity in hopes of getting the highest price, and these disgusting mutants took them all! They didn’t even sell them or anything. The leader was no fool; when the situation turned ugly, she escaped and waited for a chance to take revenge. She found other survivors, conquered marauder gangs, and whipped her new soldiers into the largest warband she had ever commanded.
Her patience paid off today. An armored transport took a detour off the regular road. Fools, looking for a quicker way; assured of their safety thanks to a small group of doggies escorting the transport. They should have never underestimated dangers. Their prey had noticed them and, like a cusack calf after noticing an approaching insectoid swarm, had tried to steer away. But like a cusack calf, it too won’t save them, for this swarm is about to swallow them whole.
The leader waved a tentacle, and armored buggies broke sand mounds in their path, speeding up toward the prey. Three heavy-modified scout tanks bristling with weapons followed in their wake, forming a triangle around the slave wagon housing the raider leader’s command center. She smiled thinly as her buggies opened fire. Each machine mounted a harpoon launcher and two rotating cannons. The cannons’ bursts sent shells in the path of the disgusting freaks, hiding them behind a wave of exploded sand and stone, no doubt confusing the morons by the intensity of this ambush.
Slender harpoons pierced the armored side of the track, sending a surge of electricity that temporarily fried the machine’s engine and unleashed a paralytic drug concealed in the compartments behind the arrow-shaped harpoon tips. This drug affected the muscles of the future slaves, forcibly relaxing them for four hours to the point where it was impossible to even lift a hand, and it also kept the humans conscious so that the realization of their fate could fully sink in. Aside from being cheap to mass produce, the raider appreciated its use in morally breaking their prey.
A single transport of the Reclamation Army could carry up to two thousand people. She didn’t hope it would be full, but a rare smile graced the leader’s lips at the thought of earning four to six months’ worth of income in a single ambush. The cages of her wagon have stood empty for too long.
But there was no need to stop at that, was there? Her tentacle signaled the tanks to move ahead, and the mortar crews of her wagon fired their deadly load, sending ruins at the fifty dogs. The buggies’ crews will take care of whoever’s still awake in the transport, and they’ll have a field day dismantling doggies’ pack from afar.
It was good that these Abnormals could endure impressive damage. The idea of selling members of the Wolf Tribe pleased the raider to no end. As her buggies closed at the transport, carrying crews of hardened cutthroats clad in the finest exoskeletons and armor money could buy, she hoped there would be Abnormals among the refugees. Children. Preferably. Their organs fetched a high price lately, due to a war the Oathtakers had waged against the Bio-Tinkers.
A sudden explosion sent a buggy skyward, and a force shield rising from the ground ripped her from her happy thoughts.
She wasn’t a hunter on this day, not even close.
****
“Perfection!” roared Leonidas Summerspring, a sword saint of the Summerspring Household. “Onward, my knights! To the world’s salvation and a better tomorrow, we charge!”
“Trampling our foes underfoot!” his personal guard shouted back.
They rose from the trenches, sand and stone dripping off their battle plates. The first buggies had made a rough turn, slamming their sides into the supposedly helpless transport when it stopped, opening the side door, and Sword Saint Macarius Voidrunner descended from the fumes steaming from the inside, bringing his black sword at the idiots. His guard formed orderly ranks, hunters firing at the buggies damaged in the mines’ explosions, and knights surging and encircling the boarding parties.
The ill-fated marauders drove straight into a well-prepared minefield, and at his command, the hunters primed it. A series of eruptions flashed beneath the vehicles, halting the tanks and forcing the lighter vehicles to close in on the transport or perish with their crews. The Ice Fangs left this path open on purpose, as the buggies could’ve attempted to use their potent weapons at the distance, raking in a few kills, but when given a potential chance to save themselves, the fools took it.
Defenders rose behind the knights, slamming their shields and activating them. Their sheer bulk protected the hunters. Hunters, masters of ranged combat, and expert ambushers—these brave sons and daughters of his household—fought in the open today, firing rocket launchers at the trying to retreat wagon. Their heat-absorbing camouflage cloaks successfully concealed the group from detection. The precision fire from their laser rifles disabled some weapons on the tanks, whose crews, in a brazen show of loyalty or fear, moved ahead of the primary target.
“Wolf Hag Arruda is trying to contact us,” said Knight Captain Osiris, a leader of the honorable Summer Guard.
“Keep our inferior cousins in the dark for now; we have work to do,” Leonidas asked, closing the gap on a tank.
The rabble that Ashbringer called soldiers had charged from the city at the news of a transport’s change, of course. Leonidas chose not to disclose anything to them. What’s the point? The Order and the Wolf Tribe shared a common ancestor, but only one group received superior intelligence.
“They won’t like it,” Osiris warned.
“It’s not my fault that our pitiful family is so gullible,” Leonidas sang.
His tactical acumen predicted the possibility of a raider’s attack, and rather than stretching his forces, the sword saint decided to solve the problem at its root. A simple feint was enough to draw the ignorant masses out into the open, and the transport’s crew masterfully executed their own maneuver, leading the raiders into the ambush area. As he had expected, a pack was dispatched to retrieve their lost lamb, and this helped convince the villains of the truth of their good fortune. Of course, Leonidas had considered the potential damage to his allies, and well-placed shield generators spared his kin from harm, though the wolf hag might not appreciate her pack crashing into an energy wall. Then again, who cares what the inferiors think?
The tanks targeted them; the disgusting canopy of stacked automatic turrets on their towers spat fire, and Leonidas eyes flashed, adjusting to the new state of being. His perception of time sharpened, allowing him to see individual bullets in the air. Sounds muffled, stretching so that he could pick up even the slightest clues, orienting himself freely by hearing alone. He pushed his shield forward, breaking through the incoming wave.
Osiris never lagged behind, setting an inspiring example even for his sword saint. The captain exhaled, entering the same state, and slashed his curved blade, bisecting a shell in two. His weapon turned into a blur, sending bullets flying, and his keen observation alerted him to the accumulation of energy in the plasma cannons mounted in place of the main cannon.
A burst of energy raced through Leonidas’ claws. He rammed his shield into the nearest tank, lifted it off the ground, and slashed, opening the vulnerable belly. The disgraced machine toppled to the side; its searing hot shot missing its mark and hitting a stone formation. Not giving the panicked crew another chance, Leonidas stepped inside and hacked at the criminals. A line appeared on the terrified loader; the energy of his claws had already ruptured the man’s brain even before his body fell apart. His shield turned the tank’s captain into a stain, and a flick of his wrist sliced an arm holding a grenade launcher in two. The rest of the raiders screamed in panic, raising their hands in surrender.
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“Foul animals.” Leonidas turned off the power to his gauntlet, fighting against the disappointment in his chest.
The Summer Guard had already hollowed out the next tank, and Osiris took care of the third. His blade bisected the plasma cannons, and the knight captain gracefully jumped off the tank as its crew frantically tried to fire them, regardless. The generator feeding the advanced weapon shorted out, and the plasma remained in the barrels, overheating the mounted ammunition of nearby weapons and setting the tank’s tower on fire.
“Bravo! This is how you wage a battle!” Leonidas’ laughter boomed over the battlefield, lifting the spirits of his troops.
In less than five minutes, the enemy’s heavy armor was gone; the noble Macarius and his guard had turned the tables on the boarding party and taken prisoners. Raised by the Twins themselves, the Ice Fangs possessed an unparalleled knowledge of strategy, technology, and coordination. They are Ravager’s true heirs! The commander should never have trusted the vulgar and incompetent black-furred brutes…
A shell struck the left flank of his forces, killing two noble knights and splattering the remains on the bleached rock. Only their legs tried to stand defiantly before falling as well. Another shell shook the rear of his forces, killing three hunters and mortally wounding a defender.
The wagon. It defied expectations, making its way through the minefield. Explosions destroyed its treads, but the machina had a surprise in store. It hovered a meter above the ground, thanks to ancient engines its crew had cannibalized from somewhere. Laser beams and rockets splattered against the energy shield that encapsulated the wagon. Shells and mortar rounds passed freely through it, while the trembling in the air blocked incoming projectiles.
“Sword Saint!” the roar of Wolf Hag Arruda joined the communications.
“This is not a time for bickering…”
“The transport! The damn thing is targeting the transport! By the Abyss, spread out, you simpletons!” Arruda cut him off.
Leonidas ignored the insult as he realized the potential disaster. The wagon’s engines moved it backward, and its main cannons prepared to fire on the army’s transport. Macarius’s blade sliced, creating a dark pillar beside him. The sword saint jumped, calculating the trajectory of the weapon aimed at the pilot’s cabin. His blade sliced through the empty air, and another black void pushed back the sunlight, swallowing the shell whole and spilling it through the first portal onto the ground.
Leonidas hurried to the wagon, using his ancestral shield to weather the damage. It was not a piece of technology crafted by the weapon smiths of his house, but a gift from the Twins themselves after young Leonidas defiantly defended a small clinic from the Malformed. Energy generators built into his shield created a shield bubble that deflected incoming shells.
Wolf Hag Arruda and her scouts reached the edge of the shield surrounding the behemoth and dug underneath it, using their claws to climb onto the walls. Paws tossed acid grenades into its barrels, setting off its ammunition that rocketed and halted the wagon’s retreat. Leonidas almost closed at the shield when Arruda reached for one of the remaining cannons, understanding too late that she was out of grenades. Undaunted, the Wolfkin pushed the weapon upward, and the arc of the shot missed the transport. The woman cried in pain as the recoil and the mechanism controlling the cannon broke her arms, ruining her power armor and pushing the brave woman’s elbow bones out.
“You dare?!” Leonidas’ voice shifted into a howl. This was supposed to be a clean victory! No ally was meant to be hurt today, and certainly not their kin.
He embraced the frustration, letting it fuel his might. His clawed gauntlet struck the shield, concentrating more force than a siege artillery barrage on a single point, and collapsing the energy long enough for him to enter. Their cousins often teased the inferior claws of the great Ice Fangs, and Leonidas designed his weapon to remedy that deficiency. Lightning danced across the great talons of the gauntlet, burning its way through a hatch.
Inside was a corridor, already filled by the frightened raiders in a pointless attempt to stop him. Leonidas paid them little heed, battering those standing in his path with his shield and slicing and dicing the rest. Two autocannons on the sides of his neck spat bullets, piercing a raider’s heart before the man could use his grenade launcher.
The frustration intensified as more icons, symbolizing the life signs of his troops, went dark. Sweet Malerata, a young and somewhat shy twenty-five-year-old girl who had just left the squires’ ranks, breathed no longer. She was his great-great-granddaughter. The death of one of his relatives infuriated the sword saint close to experiencing a genuine rage, and he stormed toward the probable location of the command center, tearing through the doors of the compartments and ending the resistance.
He arrived at exactly the tawdry scene he expected. Food and drink were strewn about the room that contained the terminals belonging to various vehicles, ranging from a train control panel to the navigation system of a plane. A mutated figure rose from the dais; slithering tentacles caught the bullets fired at the cyclopoid head. The leader’s single humanoid head lifted a mace the size of a cusack, raising it for an overhead strike as the tentacles propelled back his projectiles at a bullet’s speed.
“No courtesy!” Leonidas snarled, denying the honorable duel. His claws left burning trails in the terminals and people as he closed the hall and opened the leader’s oversized belly, spilling her stinking entrails. “Surrender or die!”
The mutant spat something in the unknown language; her mace fell off her hand, and a grenade slid from underneath her mismatched suit of armor. The sword saint ignored the explosion’s flash and turned around, finding several surviving and injured raiders.
“You.” A talon cracking with energy pointed in an operator’s face. “Shut down the cannons. Or else.”
****
“What did you think you were doing out here, pompous fool?” Wolf Hag Arruda growled into Leonidas’ face.
Around them, Voidrunners and Summersprings were busy binding the raiders and tending to the wounded. The hunters spread out, accepting the scouts’ help and forming a defensive circle in case of an unexpected attack. The transport’s repair crew cursed under their breaths, patching up the holes and restarting the generator.
Happiness blossomed in his weary heart at the news of Malerata’s survival. The girl had lost everything below her waist, but a Wolfkin had tackled her, saving her life from the blast that destroyed the hunter’s lighter helmet. She rested in the transport, unconscious and awaiting an honorable retirement. Leonidas planned to pay for the cloned organs himself, then encourage his distant relative to pursue her dreams of becoming an engineer and living a happy and prosperous life in the service of the Order. She had done her combat duty.
Arruda refused treatment for her wounds. Bones protruded from the cracks in her armor, and the woman clearly suffered, using anger to keep her mind clear. Her scout removed the woman’s helmet and neck guard, and her yellow eyes scanned Leonidas’ muzzle, no doubt searching for weakness.
“Wolf Hag Arruda, this is no way of speaking…”
“It’s all right, Osiris.” Leonidas smiled magnanimously, not holding it against the poor creature. It wasn’t her fault for being born into an inferior group. “We are tired and injured. I will overlook your repeated insults, child, but I insist you watch your mouth when speaking to a superior officer. Perhaps savagery is acceptable among your kind, but let us maintain some civility, shall we? How about prostrating yourself before a grandson of the legendary Twins themselves?”
“What. Were. You. Thinking. Sword Saint?”
No, obviously they will not settle their differences peacefully.
“My job.” Leonidas sighed tiredly, addressing the boorish woman. “We kept you off the coms to avoid your typical…agitation. This operation required a touch of perfection.”
“Your job was to escort the refugees, ensuring the speedy evacuation process, Sword Saint. Your actions nearly caused death or injuries to the crew. We risk having dead people at our paws…”
“We risk nothing of such, savage!” Leonidas exploded, leaning in to press his forehead against hers. How dare she presume to know better than an Ice Fang? Such impudence, such arrogance to even suggest that he didn’t know best! “The risk I took was calculated. We equipped the crew with first-class survival suits. The natives have lived here for decades; they can last another day or two. Would you rather we leave the raiders untouched so they can rape and pillage to their hearts’ content?”
“Warlord Onyxia had decimated them once, Sword Saint. She would do so again if you had followed your orders instead of playing a hero. This…” Arruda tried to raise her arm but failed. The woman swung her arm instead, shocking him with such disregard for her health. Her limb made a disgusting crunching sound and briefly pointed at the deceased Ice Fangs. “Looks like casualties to me. None of them had to die. Warlord Onyxia is an expert at wiping out raider bases without unnecessary losses.”
“How quaint. The way you lot fought in the city had imparted an opposite impression on me. Were it not for the great Ravager, your kind would have caused a catastrophe through your incompetence.” Leonidas heard Macarius cough and understood that he had gone too far. He let his frustration get the better of him. “My sincerest apologies, Wolf Hag Arruda,” he told the stiffened woman. “I will ensure that your pack is properly credited for today’s invaluable assistance.” Immaturity. Vanity. Leonidas despised admitting it, but his immature behavior had offended everyone, once again proving that the Twins were right to warn their children against giving in to their urges. The Ice Fangs often looked down on others, where their parents tried to teach them to appreciate the difference and help guide less enlightened people toward betterment. “Your remarks contained a grain of truth. Nevertheless, the transport will be underway again in less than an hour, and the rest of the repairs can be done en route. And we have just requisitioned another vehicle to assist in the evacuation, negating the loss of time.”
“You can’t be serious, Sword Saint.” Arruda sized up the hovering wagon.
“But I am. We have spare treads back in the city. Come, let us treat your wounds.”
“Bah! I ain’t paid enough to argue. A truck is a truck, Sword Saint. This much is true. We’re leaving.” Arruda tried to turn to her pack when Leonidas took her by the shoulder.
“This wasn’t a request, Wolf Hag.” He chopped her on the neck, using just enough force to knock her out, and gently caught her falling body. “My word,” he addressed her pack, ignoring the paws reaching for shardguns. “Wolf Hag Arruda has fainted in the line of duty. Her bravery and dedication deserve the utmost respect. As a superior officer, I will temporarily take command of your unit until we rendezvous with the noble Ashbringer. Glory to the brave soldiers of the Wolf Tribe! Cheer to our allies!”