There was a saying Cross was used to hearing from Comrades from the frontlines: Locking eyes with a Blanken was the quickest way to revitalize a Noirite's fighting spirit.
There were conflicting reasons as to why this was the case. Some said it was the Sovereign's blood recognizing that of the enemy's, others just claimed it revealed how pitiful the Blanken truly were at their cores.
Whatever the case, to a lowly guard stuck on a Factory World far from the front, it was sayings like that which fueled Cross' every waking moment. However, standing there staring at that wounded Blanken, he found nothing in his gaze, nothing except the murky reflection of his own silhouette. No grand revelations or internal displays of recognition, but Cross needed neither for him to move forward.
He had more than enough anger to drive him towards his enemy.
For it was the enemy's fleet which had torn their tower from heaven, what had grabbed hold of Cross' dreams and buried him under their ruins. It had been his first opportunity to kill and die on a battlefield for his Sovereign, but the fickleness of the cosmos had other plans. Of course he'd be recruited for a nigh impossible mission reliant on trickery and subterfuge.
Of course he'd be stuck in a stripped down Tower in the middle of enemy territory, and of course a random patrol fleet just had to stumble upon them by complete chance and leave them stranded on some random planet in the ass end of a Blanken quadrant.
It felt as if his rage was practically radiating off of him with every step he took, but his target showed nary a hint of fear at his approach.
“It’s… alright,” the Blanken turned away slowly as Cross reached him “Your kind know no better.”
Cross’s segmented fingers took hold of the other Pawn’s smooth round dome of a head before pulling it back.
“Mother forgives you too!” the words came out faster as the Blanken’s eye locked onto the jagged Blackstone being raised above him “I-Its not your fault! Your King’s made you like this!”
Worthless thoughts from a worthless Pawn doomed to the service of the lesser Sovereign. Cross was easily able to ignore him now that he wasn’t rambling in thought speak. He was free to focus on driving that jagged blackstone blade right into his upper chest, burrowing through that thick glass-like shell of his in a spray of vitae and shards.
“Slaves tainted by pain instead of love.” The Blanken continued, even as Cross tore the blackstone free and brought it down again “For struggle instead of bliss! For-!”
Cross made doubly sure to aim for the mouth on his second strike, driving the blade through the side of his face and tearing his lower jaw apart as he ripped it out. But even with his mouth destroyed and floating in the water around him, the Blanken refused Cross the comfort of silence. His words just reverberated in Cross's head again.
“Forgiven!” he cried out “May her other children grant peace to your suffering!”
Cross narrowed his eye in annoyance, wrenching the jagged piece of Blackstone out to strike again.
Only for a second voice to join the first.
“Brother?!?” the lighter tone of a female called out silently in the back of Cross’s head “Call louder!”
Cross froze up immediately, but the Blanken in his grasp didn’t hesitate.
“Here sister!” his voice called out “A Noirite has me!”
Cross rammed the blackstone into his eye, spewing white fluids all over as the Pawn’s form began losing its luster.
“Come… quick.” the voice slowed down as Cross threw him into the puddle beneath them “Free him… from suffering.”
A muted gray color began spreading along the Pawn as more of the milky white substance drained out. Even with most of his head torn open, he still attempted to crawl out of the puddle. But the damage was too much, and soon the gray colors had spread across his body.
All that was left of him was a gray statue of empty pearlglass, the only good form a Blanken could take in Cross’s humble opinion. But he couldn’t appreciate his handiwork for long, the other voice was getting louder.
“Brother?!?” The female’s voice grew as Cross put distance between him and the body “Keep speaking, brother!”
“Quiet!” a male’s voice called out through the pounding of rain “They can hear thought speak, Newblood!”
Cross had just been slipping behind a large chunk of debris when that word gave him pause.
He carefully leaned past the chunk just in time to see two more Blanken arriving. They rushed out from the ruins and came to a stop at their brother’s gray, unmoving body with weapons at the ready.
Blessed Blasters sparked with golden yellow energies as one examined the body. They were almost identical to one another, save for the large dent that had been beaten into the helmet of the kneeling one.
The only true way to tell who was who was their voices.
“Is he-?” the Newblood began to ask, her actual voice nearly drowned out by the rain.
“Drained, Mother's vitae no longer sustains.” The Dented one grunted “Keep watch, sister, they may still be near.”
Cross only saw two of them.
His hand tightened on the jagged blackstone in his grasp, still dripping with vitae. Even with only the ruins around him to work with, he was confident he could bleed two pawns, especially if one of them was an inexperienced Newblood like himself.
But the mission wouldn’t allow such recklessness.
Regroup and recover as much as possible, it was all he could do at that point. He almost felt bad avenging his fallen comrades with only one dead Blanken, but he began inching away regardless.
As soon as he was certain his footsteps would be successfully obscured by the rain, he broke into a jog. Twists and turns through an endless spread of debris, he leaped and swerved around pieces, coming across more and more gray statues. It was too dark, slick and muddy to identify most of them. Gray Noirites and Gray Blanken were practically indistinguishable without their armor.
The sheer amount of Ichor labeled most as Noirites, the few pools of Vitae were nothing in comparison. They’d lost so many during Towerfall, there was no telling if any other Noirites besides Cross had survived.
But that didn’t matter, impossible odds weren’t something a loyal servant of the King would shudder at. What did give him pause was the new voice that suddenly called out in his head.
“Brothers and Sisters!” it cheered “Celebrate! Another victory we gift to mother!”
Cross had to shake his head a bit, getting used to the new, excessively loud voice as he continued onward.
“There are Noirites in the ruins, Brother Holst!” the voice of the Dented One suddenly joined in “Thought speak will clue them to your location!”
“Let the King’s slaves hear all!” the loud voice cackled, making Cross pause and look up “Let them hear their coming freedom! The results of their arrogance!”
Pausing behind another chunk of Blackstone so he could take stock of his location again, Cross paused as lightning briefly lit up the ruins. In that very split second, Cross could see large shapes moving through the clouds. As Brother Holst preached on, those shapes grew closer and larger before pure white clouds emerged from the dark ones.
Seemingly immune to the harsh winds around them, they practically glowed in the storm around them as the structures they carried were nearly visible. Cross was already crouched low by the time the powerful rays of light shined down upon the ruins below the floating structure, but that didn’t stop him from clearing his mind as one passed over his hiding spot.
“Pray with me, sisters! Brothers! In the name of the Mother!” the preaching continued “May our Brighthomes shine down upon the King’s slaves, may their deaths be quick and wondrous!”
The second the light moved on, Cross broke into a sprint. Through the storm he could see other rays of light shining down from other floating structures, the white clouds ferrying them through the storm as they searched the ruins.
Cross hurried to lunge behind another broken chunk of Blackstone right before the next light passed over him. But despite crouching down before the light reached him, it stopped overhead, growing brighter as Brother Holst’s words grew more enthusiastic.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
“Ah, ah! Below us! Follow the light, brothers and sisters!” the Preacher laughed “The poor servant’s trail betrays them! Surge, surge!”
Cross spun around to see that his footprints were barely visible even to him in the sodden mud. He couldn’t even curse the Preacher’s sight, as the light was growing brighter and more intense with every second.
He broke into a run, just barely catching flashes of Blanken moving through the ruins as well.
“There’s more!” another voice called, with another ray of light erupting from a different white cloud as yet another structure began descending from the storm clouds.
“Don’t follow recklessly!” Dent’s voice came up again “The Noirites thrive in darkness. Wait, Newblood don’t-!”
Cross heard it before it struck, that buzzing screech of energy just before a glowing golden beam slammed into his arm and threw him forward with the impact.
Cross spun before slamming into another puddle, the muddy water blinding him as he scrambled to get moving again. The puddle quickly filled with black ichor, with the sight of the new hole in his forearm urging Cross onward.
“I had him!” the Newblood’s voice whined “These things are too bulky, brother! I would’ve-!”
“We had surprise on our side, Newblood.” Dent hissed “Now quick, before the rain covers up his trail!”
Cross squeezed down on his wound, darting through ruins while trying to rub the blackstone dagger down with his ichor. The ray of light ruined any attempt he made to escape them fully, tracking him throughout the maze of Blackstone no matter which twists or turns he took. Even when the voices of Dent and the other Blanken died down, Holst never let up the preaching.
“Fear not, slave!” he continued “For the crimes of besmirching Perignassi's quadrant! You are gifted with freedom!"
Another golden beam ripped right through a chunk of Blackstone right beside Cross, showering him in jagged Blackstone pieces that threatened to blind him again. He couldn’t risk slowing down, brushing his eye clean only to trip over a smaller piece and go tumbling over the edge of a ditch. He rolled over, smacking against more rubble just as another beam fired over the ditch.
He splashed into the muddy base, struggling to his feet before desperately looking for cover. The ditch was shockingly free of debris, the result of the massive piece of the tower which lie at the end of it. It had torn straight through the ground instead of making the same craters that dotted the rest of the maze.
The moment Cross’s eye fell upon it, a new voice surfaced underneath Brother Holst’s ranting.
“Come closer, Comrade.” It said, barely audible over the rambles.
Cross had no time to be cautious of the new voice, as the source of the light finally tore free of the dark clouds.
A massive sphere comprised of large fingers sculpted of the finest white pearlglass. Every one of them were clenched tightly together knuckle to knuckle. The light seeped through those fingers as the cloud that the structure rode on brought it closer.
"I hear more, brothers and sisters!" Brother Holst's voice emanated from the Brighthome "More slaves to save!"
Behind it, Cross could see two more Brighthomes descending from the storm clouds and casting light down upon the ruins. Unlike them, the one flying over Cross formed more openings. The fingers pulled apart, and several Blanken leaped down from those gaps into the ruins.
Cross broke out into a run for the large piece of the tower, racing along the ditch as more Blanken voices filled his head.
“Free them! Free them!” one repeated Holst's words in glee.
“For the Queen, for the true Sovereign!” another shouted as Cross saw the glow of blessed weapons near the edge of the ditch.
He tried moving in a zig-zag, to throw off their aim even by the slightest of margins. For the first beam it worked, blasting only a second behind him as he ran. It was the beam that tore through his knee that ruined everything.
He stumbled, spinning as he tried to catch himself. His hands slammed into the mud below first with his severed leg crashed beside him right after, the softening form of his blade slipping from his grip in the process. He had no time to worry about the ichor flowing from his leg, he’d be blasted apart if he slowed down. Despite his movements beginning to slow, he crawled forward as fast as he could.
“Where are you shooting?!?” Dent’s voice stood out amongst the rabble of Blanken chanting “We aren’t Noirites, we end suffering not prolong it!”
He was closer than the others, Cross could only imagine him readying several killing blows that would leave him bled and gray in mere moments.
But good Pawns don't submit to panic. As his grasping hand pulled himself faster, he heard it: the voice that had brought him to that large piece of the tower.
“Good seein' ya still hardy, comrade.” The voice paused to chuckle “Now let’s show these kiddies they’s a far cry from winnin' this!”
A swift kick to the side sent Cross rolling onto his front, the barrel of a Blessed Blaster lined up with him. Past the white and gold of the long weapon in Dent’s grasp, Cross locked eyes with him through the visor of his helmet.
Reflected in that bright visor, Cross was able to see an arc of purple energy emerge from the large chunk of the tower at the end of the ditch. Just like the lightning above, it angled several times before slamming into the side of the nearest Brighthome.
It tore a massive hole through the floating structure’s side, sending broken fingers falling as Dent’s head spun around at the sound. Brother Holst’s ranting was mercifully cut off the second the arc struck, with most of the Blanken Pawns at the edge of the ditch looking skyward as the Brighthome listed to the side.
Dent was the first to realize what was happening.
“Ambush!” he screamed out to the other Blanken before pointing “Move back-!”
Cross’s hands shot forward and grabbed hold of the blaster’s barrel, hauling himself up until they were eye level so he could ram a fistful of mud into Dent's visor. Crying out in shock at first, Dent grunted before slamming his blaster into Cross’s side and flinging him away.
Cross slammed into the large chunk of the tower, sliding down into a pool of his own ichor as a battle cry tore through the air.
“The King calls!” dozens of voices shouted as the sound of Blessed weapons firing picked up, joined by the unmistakable hum of Arclight Casters
When Cross pushed himself back up, he saw Dent furiously trying to scrub the mud from his visor as the Blanken at the edge of the Ditch were quickly assaulted by a storm of short purple energy blasts.
Noirites poured from the ruins, slick black armor reflecting the glows of both purple and gold as both sides fired upon each other. Above, more arcs of purple energy rose up to assail the Brighthomes from several parts of the ruins.
“Dig in!” Dent shouted as he finally managed to clear his visor “Don’t let them push you back!”
Cross reached behind him to dig chunks of the Blackstone out of the wall behind him. The moment his hand went up, Dent spun back on him. The barrel of the blaster swung around just as a shadow fell from the large piece behind Cross.
Dent’s eye darted up , the barrel of his blaster began to rise right before a Noirite crashed into him feet first from above.
They both went down, with Dent’s Blaster going off and striking the Blackstone as he fell. Debris rained down on Cross, who scrambled to plug up his wounded arm with it as much as possible. Getting to his stump leg would be harder, but he lurched forward to attempt a patch job.
Dent threw his assailant back, looking up just in time to catch the heavy end of a blackstone baton to the side of his head. His helmet dented even more from the impact, with Dent opting to rip the entire thing off as white blood began leaking from within.
The Noirite who’d came to Cross’ rescue laughed as he charged, slowing down only to lean out of the way as the crushed helm was sent sailing towards him. Dent was just barely able to raise the blaster as the Noirite reached him.
Cross wrenched his stump leg closer, the loss of ichor making the process slow and tedious. The bloodloss from the stump was intense, and his attempts to pound the blackstone into place were subpar at best. It plugged the leak just enough for that weakening sensation to slow. He could finally risk finding another weapon.
That was until he saw Dent stumble to the ground, leaking vitae from several parts where his shell had been shattered. His blaster fell into the mud, so he scrambled towards it until his Noirite assailant had caught up.
“In the filth, where you belong!” The Noirite chittered as he approached, only for Dent to spin and fling a handful of mud and his own white blood into the assailant’s face. The Noirite roared in annoyance as he darted back to claw the mixture from his eye, leaving Dent to scramble for his fallen blaster.
But right before he could reach his weapon, another hand dragged it away. Dent’s eye shot up to see Cross dragging his weapon way, and snarled before charging him.
Cross tried to scramble backwards, but his stump limb made it an effort in futility. Dent practically threw himself at Cross, reaching back to draw a dagger as he crashed atop him.
Cross raised the blaster between himself and the incoming blade, the dagger skidding along the weapon’s frame with nary a scratch to show for it. Dent’s free hand lashed out to pry the weapon from Cross’s grip, slashing at his hands several times. Cross couldn't endure, with Dent managing to tear his weapon from Cross' broken fingers before driving his dagger down.
Only for a Blackstone baton to crash into the side of Dent's head first, his movements locking up as the Noirite behind him wrenched him back. Cross's eye went wide as a spray of vitae spurted from Dent, quickly turning his head away and raising his arms for protection as the stuff splattered against the mud beside him.
“Excellent comrade!” Cross’s savior cheered as he gripped the handle of his weapon with both hands tightly and hauled Dent backwards.
The Savior pulled Dent back onto his feet before planting his foot against his back and wrenching his cudgel free. Dent jerked violently before swinging back with the dagger only for the baton to come down, shattering a chunk of his shoulder plate and warping the armor entirely.
Cross' looked himself over, desperately seeking possible contamination. When he was certain none of Dent's blood had found a way in, he looked up just in time to see the Savior throw him to the ground before stomping his graying head in.
“No!” out of the corner of Cross’s gaze he saw the Newblood that had been with Dent standing at the edge of the ditch. Despite the battle raging around her, she took aim at the Savior with her blaster. Just before she could fire, an arc of purple energy smashed into her from the side, throwing her along the edge of the ditch only for another Blanken to hurry to drag her away.
The sound of clapping drew Cross’s gaze back to the Savior, who rushed over from Dent's gray remains and skidded to a stop beside him
“You's a hardy one, eh Comrade?” He cooed in delight as he fell to one knee and gave him a once over “Survived the knight, now this! Ya got real lucky with them shapers, eh?!”
“My leg…” Cross murmured as the Savior hauled him up onto his shoulders “the leaks-”
“Ain't slowin' down in no hot zone, just bleed less n' I'll patch ya soon as we clear!” the Savior laughed whilst lugging him out of the ditch, the sounds of battle growing distant behind him “No goin gray for you yet, Sovereign’s War still needs ya, Comrade!”