Chapter 30 - The Knights of Mars

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"Can I talk to Sirine?" Henryk pressed at the gate of the grand manor.

The doorman, with a heavy grey mustache and glasses perched on his nose, scrutinized him. "Son, I don't know where you came from, but I have no knowledge of visitors," he replied, his tone firm.

Henryk's fingers clenched into fists, his mind racing. "Listen, I'm a friend of hers, and she's not been answering my calls or texts," he explained urgently. "I'm going on a mission soon. I'm not sure if I'm going to be coming back."

The old doorman sighed heavily. "I'll call her, but I have to follow her father's orders and maintain my post. Maybe you two are just bickering, but policy..."

"Of course," Henryk replied, exhaling heavily.

As the shuttle of House Mars whisked them away from the planet, Henryk's thoughts lingered on the manor. He could still hear her voice on the phone, but now it was drowned out by the sounds of engines and the bustle of the academy.

"She still didn't want to see you?" Ed asked, placing a hand on Henryk's shoulder as they walked down the hall of the transport.

Ed sighed. "These girls and their problems," he muttered, making his way over to his friend.

"You can't worry about this, Henryk," Ed said, catching up to him. "She's just some high noble princess, nothing special. I told you before that after this is all done, I'd give you anything and more, but Sirine, she is not to be worried about. Especially not right now."

Henryk's expression grew stern and quiet. Then, he turned to Ed.

"What?" Henryk snapped curtly. "Me and Sirine are none of your business."

"What everyone does in House Mars is my business," Ed retorted. "I'm the president, and that means it's my job to deal with the morale of all members."

Henryk's gaze turned into a glare. "Well, then, Prez. Am I someone that you feel should be worried about?"

Ed's eyes widened at the transformation. Henryk, once one to avoid conflict, now exuded a different energy altogether.

There was a wildness in Henryk's eyes, a newfound strength forged by rigorous training and discipline. He had become a warrior in both body and spirit.

"A warrior cannot go into battle with a clouded mind," Ed remarked sharply.

Henryk took a moment to absorb the weight of those words. "Listen, I don’t know exactly what you see in Sirine, but it’s like what you said—it’s your own business. But…we are going into battle very soon. I can’t have your relationship strife interfere with the mission and—"

"President Edward, I assure you, that I won’t let something so trivial get in the way of the mission," Henryk interrupted firmly.

Ed was taken aback by Henryk's resolve. There was something about him, a certain fire that burned bright.

"Isn’t that why I am here, and Kieren and the rest stayed at the house? Because I am better," Henryk remarked, a smirk playing at his lips.

Ed recognized Henryk's potential. He might not excel in traditional academics, but Henryk possessed a rare gift for leadership and inspiration. The others...

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "The other squires aren’t as well equipped, and me and the others thought Kieren and August could benefit from—"

"I even overheard that Axel stated that maybe I could beat August, a full martian, spike and all," Henryk interjected.

Ed's eyes widened. "Spikes, what do you know of the spikes?"

Henryk shrugged. "Only repeating words, Prez."

Ed's sigh was audible. "Well, that’s good to know…also, Axel thinks that you can go toe to toe with August now?"

Henryk's confidence shone through. He nodded proudly. "Training-wise, I even bested him...,"

Ed chuckled. "...and you lost to Kieren," he teased.

Henryk's expression twisted into a sneer. "Kieren got lucky," he growled, his anger palpable.

Ed shrugged, his nonchalance a stark contrast to Henryk's intensity. "Power, violence, and anger... Henryk, this talk is really just boring and annoying me. How about you come with me and let’s go hang with the guys?"

Henryk's simmering anger came to a halt at Ed's suggestion. A pat on the shoulder from his friend further softened his demeanor. "You’ve fought by our side, trained with us, and we’re all going on a mission together. Let’s focus on accomplishing this mission and getting money to live comfortably."

A genuine smile spread across Henryk's face. "That’s a real good idea, Prez," he conceded.

Edward chuckled, pulling Henryk into a one-armed hug. Henryk felt a warmth rise within him as he chuckled in return.

They embarked on a starlane, condensing their five-day journey into one. Henryk found solace in the vast expanse of space, illuminated only by the twinkling stars. It was a dream realized, one he'd harbored since childhood.

They passed the time playing games, indulging in drinks, and engaging in various activities. It felt like the camaraderie of college, the brotherhood he'd imagined at the Academy. Henryk even drifted into a pleasant dream about Sirine until Axel's interruption.

"What happened?" Henryk groaned, sitting up in his cot. Axel loomed over him, the lights flickering on automatically, rousing the others.

"Shut off the lights, please!" Joseph quipped, as Axel sighed, and Henryk noticed he was already in his battle gear.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Henryk faced Axel. "Did something happen?" he inquired, glancing at the clock. "It’s pretty early and…"

Axel's expression was grave as he addressed the group. "Yeah, I know it’s early, but Ed wants to do a briefing before we make planetfall," he explained, his tone conveying a sense of urgency. "This is our first real mission, and the threat is still real."

Vinnie's laughter reverberated through the room, drawing all eyes to him. His bare-chested form showcased his muscular physique as he rose from his bed, a smirk playing on his lips. "The threat?" he echoed, his tone dripping with mockery. "We're going against fire ants," he scoffed.

But it was Arthur who commanded attention next, his massive frame imposing as he landed heavily on the steel floor. His glare silenced the room as he addressed them all. "I get what you mean, city boy," he boomed. "But these fire ants aren't a force to be trifled with."

Vin sighed, attempting to diffuse the tension. "Of course, Arthur. I'm not suggesting we go in unprepared. But let's remember, this is our first mission. We should focus on learning to work together. Isn't that why Ed gave us an easy mission?" He posed the question with a wry twist of his fingers.

Isaac nodded in agreement. "I suppose, but how many of us here meet true military standards?"

"True military standards?" Henryk echoed, confusion evident in his voice.

Isaac let out an audible sigh. "Henryk, do you even know any callsigns or protocols?"

Henryk felt a pang of awkwardness. He considered lying but thought better of it, shaking his head. He couldn't pretend to know something he didn't, especially when lives were at stake.

Axel couldn't suppress a snort. "No one taught Henryk the basics?"

Joseph shook his head. "Apparently not," he remarked, shooting a glance at Axel. "What's Ed planning for Henryk? He's the only squire without proper combat experience."

"Well, that's not entirely accurate," Henryk interjected, standing up. "I've hunted and fought before—"

Arthur waved off his words. "Henryk, no disrespect, but we're up against an enemy that's going to shoot back. I've faced the White Sharks myself."

"You have?" Axel's eyebrows shot up. "So, I'm not the only one with combat experience?"

Arthur nodded solemnly. "After my family left Mars, we settled on another feudal world. We faced a raiding party from the White Sharks. We managed to repel and exterminate them, but once they get a foothold, they're a real pain to deal with." He turned to Axel. "And you, pretty knight?"

Axel sighed, his expression clouded with memories. "My aunt took me in after the fall. My uncle was part of the Venusian royal guards. I was training to join them, and during my squiring, I went toe-to-toe with a GrimGore Brute."

Joseph let out a snort. "You killed one?"

Axel's smile was genuine, the smile of a young knight-in-training. He drew his sword from its black scabbard, the metal gleaming in the dim light. "With this very blade," he said proudly. "I clipped him with a riposte and cleaved his head off." He turned to Henryk, tapping the guard of his sword with his thumbnail. "Remember what I told you about the sword? It's not just about the tip. I jammed the end of my guard into its eye. The bastard didn't even see it coming."

In that moment, he embodied the essence of a true knight, fighting for justice. "So, you're from Venus stock?" Joseph inquired.

Axel nodded, his finger tracing the indigo hue of his eyes. "My ancestry can be traced back to the days of the great war. The Red Templars' purple eyes are just a genetic mutation originating from the spikes."

Henryk pondered this revelation. So, Axel was technically a mutant. It shed new light on their previous conversations.

But Axel dismissed the topic. "Enough talk," he said briskly. "Ed wants everyone geared up and ready in five to discuss the plans. This isn't just a local problem; it seems to originate from the capital city. We'll clear the infestation by sundown, or possibly the next day."

Isaac chimed in with a smirk. "So, in and out," he said, already heading for the door. "I'll see you gents in the armory. Let's wrap this up quickly. I want to finish that game with the blocks. That castle we made, Joseph, was pretty neat."

"Hell yeah," Joseph agreed, rising from his bed to follow Isaac.

Descending into the armory bay of the transport vessel "Asha's Gift," Henryk observed the scene. It was a typical sight, with testosterone-fueled banter and men suiting up in armor. Joseph and Isaac helped each other gear up, Isaac adjusting Joseph's breastplate while Joseph opted not to wear his helmet.

"Look at that," Isaac interrupted, pointing at Henryk. "You've even got your own plate here, courtesy of Ed."

The other squires might have grumbled in irritation. Weren't these his cousins, his comrades-in-arms? Henryk sneered as he opened his locker, expecting to find the standard Sons of Mars armor. But what lay within was a surprise, and not a pleasant one.

"Is this..." Henryk's voice trailed off as he lifted the chestplate with trembling hands, turning it over to examine the design.

Isaac chuckled, breaking the tense silence. "You're wearing squire-patterned armor. It's old, practically a relic, but it'll keep you safe. It's nothing like true knight armor, but it'll do the job. Joseph and I know a bit about Martian tech, so if there's any issue, just let us know."

Henryk stared at the armor in his hands, his mind racing. "Where are the charge packs?" he asked, his voice edged with uncertainty.

"Martians don't use charge packs," Arthur replied, his smirk evident as he donned his knight armor. "We use this." He tapped the backpack portion. "It's fueled by a steam engine, blessed and honed by our knight priest. You won't need to recharge anything. Just get used to it."

Isaac chimed in, his smile wry. "And learn to act as part of a unit. I'll teach you some callsigns. We'll be following the Mercurian or Martian protocol."

Axel looked surprised. "You're skilled in both?"

Isaac chuckled. "I was raised on a forge world. You learn a thing or two about survival there."

"My father taught me Martian," Axel mentioned.

"Mine too," Joseph added.

Isaac turned to Henryk, the seriousness in his eyes cutting through the noise of the ship. "Henryk, are you prepared?" he asked, his voice low.

Henryk hesitated, unsure of what to say. "This was supposed to be..." His words trailed off, lost in the turbulence of their journey.

"A quest?" Isaac mused, his tone heavy with sarcasm. "It's a mission, a quest, or whatever they want to call it. Sending us out into the shit storm to sharpen our blades against the alien threats in the far distance."

A hush fell over them, the weight of their task settling in like a thick fog. Isaac clapped his hands, breaking the silence. "We've got that drama at the academy, they've got us fighting and dying from the politics over there, and now we're off to fight here. What for? A house that's gone, a..."

Arthur's sneer cut him off, his imposing figure rising from where he sat. "Hold on," Joseph interjected. "We may have lost our planet, but that doesn't mean we're..."

"Our dreams have been shattered along with the Golden Prince," Isaac interrupted sharply. "What more do we have to fight for?"

"And what do you fight for?" Arthur challenged.

Isaac chuckled darkly. "I fight for revenge, and maybe that's enough." With that, he turned away, a dangerous glint in his eyes that didn't go unnoticed by Henryk.

"Don't worry, Henryk," Joseph reassured him, rising to his feet and extending his fist. Henryk mirrored the gesture, their fists connecting with a solid click. "We both come from frontier living. There's a hardiness in that. Have you ever killed a man?" he asked, his voice low.

Henryk hesitated, his mind drifting back to a haunting memory. His sister, bloodied and bruised, the weight of a gun in his small hands. The recoil as he fired, the man dropping to the ground. But it wasn't a man; it was something else entirely.

Shaking himself from the memory, Henryk made his way to his locker. He was the sixth out of six, a lucky number in Arthur's Martian standards. The other squires didn't come, not ready like he was. They didn't look at him, but he knew he was heading out with them, favored in some unspoken way.

It was a bitter realization, but Henryk knew he needed to gain honor and prestige. One day, he would betray them, but for now, he felt the weight of history in the armor he held. He walked the halls where legends were born, where tales of Old Martians echoed through the city.

But as he donned the red armor, he couldn't shake the feeling of impending betrayal. Pushing the thought aside, he focused on the mission ahead, sealing himself in readiness for what lay ahead.

He raced through his locker, the clatter of armor echoing in the metallic chamber. Straps tightened, gear assembled, each piece a bulwark against the unknown that awaited them. His boots, plated and sturdy, promised both protection and agility, while the distinctive red pauldrons gleamed with an ominous glow.

"Hello...hello," Henryk's voice crackled over the radio, the sound muffled by the hum of his suit.

Isaac clicked on his helmet, the dark red marks tracing intricate patterns along its surface. His blaster, sleek and deadly, contrasted with Henryk's more rudimentary laser rifle, a relic of a bygone era. Yet, within the confines of his suit, Henryk felt the power thrumming, a sensation both exhilarating and unnerving.

Their knight cousins, clad in heavier, sturdier armor adorned with Martian symbols of protection and strength, wielded formidable weapons befitting their status. They were the Knights of Mars, and the weight of that legacy pressed heavily upon Henryk's shoulders.

"Ready, Henryk?" Edward's voice broke through the silence, pulling him back to the present.

"Yeah, I am," Henryk replied, his words tinged with uncertainty.

They moved through the main living section of the transport vessel, a motley crew of warriors prepared for battle. In the air hung the palpable tension of anticipation, the weight of their mission pressing down upon them.

"So, this world..." Axel began.

"Oceana II," Ed interjected, his voice grave.

"Alright, Oceana. What's the deal? What are we up against?" Axel's question hung heavy in the air.

Ed tapped a screen, projecting footage that flickered to life before them. "An old governor has reached out to us. It's a long journey, but there's something brewing in the core."

"What about back home?" Henryk's voice was laced with concern.

"Ever heard of the GrimGore?" Ed's question silenced the room.

Henryk, Arthur, and Axel exchanged uneasy glances. "The GrimGore? They're off-world?" Henryk's voice trembled with disbelief.

"You've dealt with them too?" Axel's shock mirrored Henryk's own.

"Yeah, they were just pests, classified as plant mutants at first," Arthur mused, his gaze fixed on the gray, shark-like creatures before them. "But cut into one, and you'll see how false that truly is. These things have spread to other worlds in the system."

"Like an infection," Vinnie remarked, his figure clad in white hospitalier gear, his eyes searching the intercom for answers. "What's the plan here, Ed? What's the guild got us doing for this mission?"

Ed nodded thoughtfully. "There's a political rally today, a big one for the governor. He's up against some lord from Neptune, and it's bound to get messy. Turns out, a herd of GrimGore has settled beneath their streets."

"Corrupt nobles endangering innocent lives, as usual," Axel interjected with a hint of bitterness.

"We've got to clear out their sewers," Ed continued, directing his gaze toward Henryk. "GrimGore aren't human. They're alien insect pests scattered across the solar system. We're here to clear them out for money, and I figured it'd get you used to killing something that's actively trying to kill you."

Henryk nodded silently, the weight of his past actions hanging heavy in the air. "Henryk's killed a person before," Arthur interjected.

"It was years ago," Henryk replied quietly.

"But you knew what you were getting yourself into," Ed said, his voice firm yet understanding. "There are so few of us, and there are people who see promise within you. I thought it wise for you to run missions with us."

"They haven't killed like us, Henryk," Axel added plainly.

"Agreed," Arthur chimed in. "Our first mission—it'd be a mistake to expose them to it now. You've got a manner to you that I like, reminds me of old warriors in stories."

Henryk chuckled at the remark, and Arthur's smirk widened. "You find that funny, country man?"

"What kind of manner is that?" Henryk asked, genuinely curious.

"The violent kind," Arthur replied with a grin.

With that, they descended into the spaceport of the grand continental city. Oceana II was just one in a long line of systems, each boasting vast continents bordered by wide oceans, a sprawling expanse awaiting their arrival.

As they descended upon the capitol city, the transport vessel shuddered and groaned, the darkness offering them cover for their mission. In and out, Ed thought, his mind focused on the task ahead. Henryk would join them, integrating seamlessly into their unit. No WarCaskets or elaborate vehicles required—just a swift strike to wipe out the hive and retreat. With Arthur, Axel, and Isaac by his side, along with Vinnie and Joseph as reinforcements, armed with a flamer-rifle for added firepower, they were ready for the job.

Rain lashed down upon them as they emerged from the transport bay's hangar, instantly soaking them to the bone. Isaac's voice crackled over the radio, initiating their protocol. "Martian – 78," he announced, and the interface flickered to life. Their weapons glowed with readiness as they moved out. They were like martian wolves on the hunt, with Henryk, the newcomer, trailing in their wake.

"Best of luck, Henryk. Don't go getting yourself killed," Ed's voice echoed in Henryk's earpiece. "That princess seemed keen on you. Keep yourself alive."

"I won't," Henryk retorted. "I've got too much riding on this, Ed. My sister, my momma—I can't afford to fail."

"Really?" Ed's voice came back. "No personal glory, huh? I call that a lie."

Henryk stumbled over his words, but Ed pressed on. "Every man has something close to his heart. Just remember, Henryk, you're far from home now. A lot can change a man."

With those parting words, they watched as the transport shuttle vanished into the distance.

"You're our radio boy now," Isaac confirmed.

"Radio boy?" Henryk questioned.

"It's martian slang," Arthur explained, his knightly armor gleaming with age. Angel wings adorned his helmet, a testament to his years of service. Gripping his mighty sword with practiced ease, he stood tall, a symbol of strength and honor.

Henryk clutched his laser rifle, Axel his ornate blaster, and Isaac his powerful blaster. Each weapon told a story, a reflection of the houses they represented. It was a reminder of the world they left behind and the new one they were entering—a world of danger and uncertainty, where survival was paramount.

They moved cautiously through the darkness, their flashlights cutting through the shadows like knives. Surrounded by towering trees, they found themselves in a clearing, the city looming in the distance. It was 3 AM by Earth standards, the park deserted and silent save for their quiet footsteps and the rustle of leaves.

Isaac led the way, pointing towards an opening in the wall. It looked as though it had been smashed through by some immense force, the rubble strewn about like confetti. Axel gripped his blaster tightly, his helmet's flashlight probing the darkness beyond.

Henryk followed suit, his own flashlight revealing the jagged edges of broken brickwork and the yawning descent into the depths of the sewer system. They peered into the darkness, their lights casting feeble beams that barely pierced the gloom.

Isaac knelt down, dipping his fingers into the murky water. With a small device, he scanned the area, his expression growing grim. "We've got mucus," he announced.

"Mucus?" Henryk echoed, puzzled.

Isaac gestured for him to shine his light on a specific spot. As Henryk complied, the device hummed softly before Isaac pocketed it. "Bug mucus," he explained. "There's something big down here. GrimGore."

They pressed on, their flashlights leading the way through the labyrinthine tunnels. Suddenly, Arthur's makeshift perch collapsed, sending him scrambling for safety. His warning echoed through the darkness, a reminder of the dangers lurking in the shadows.

"Keep your wits about you, comrades," Arthur called out as they pushed forward.

"How are you holding up, Henryk?" Ed's voice crackled over the radio.

"Ed, I thought you were supposed to stay in orbit," Henryk replied, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

Ed chuckled softly, his voice crackling over the radio like distant thunder. Henryk could almost picture him, leaning back with a wistful grin. "Nah, I docked at a hanger. Wanted to kick my feet up for a bit and tour the early morning skies. Oceana II, Henryk, it's a beautiful world."

Henryk's lips curled into a sly smile as he listened, his flashlight cutting through the darkness like a beacon. "Really?" he replied, his voice tinged with curiosity. "I could imagine how it must look topside."

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"Beautiful steel buildings," Ed continued, his tone filled with nostalgia. "I know you came from a Colony World, but you've ever been to any other planets?"

"Some, for work," Henryk admitted, memories flickering in the recesses of his mind. "Mostly half-day trips, a staple at my colony."

"What did you do?" Ed inquired, his curiosity piqued.

Henryk sighed, the weight of his past settling on his shoulders like a heavy cloak. "Mining, hunting, anything at all," he replied with a hint of bitterness. "I'm a jack of all trades, Edward. Heck, now I'm a Knight," he added with a chuckle, trying to lighten the mood.

"You're skilled, Henryk," Ed acknowledged, his voice carrying a note of respect. "There's a reason why you went off with the 'Trueblood,' and now stayed along with the Squires."

"Pride does not befit you, Henryk," Ed cautioned, his tone turning serious.

"What's wrong with self-pride?" Henryk shot back, his voice brimming with defiance. "I fought hard, and I was able to survive. Both within the house, and within the academy..."

Ed fell silent, the weight of his disapproval hanging in the air like a storm cloud. But Henryk pressed on, his words tumbling out in a torrent of emotion. "Those cowards only joined because no one would have them. I've fought men, killed men..."

Ed's voice cut through the darkness like a knife, sharp and unforgiving. "Henryk, that is not what being a Knight of Mars entails," he admonished.

But Henryk refused to back down, his resolve as unyielding as steel. "Is it?" he challenged, his voice laced with bitterness. "I know the way things work. I was accused of a crime I didn't commit, and all the houses rejected me. I was the golden boy for a day, but everyone spat on me except House Mars," he confessed, his words heavy with resentment. "I saved Sirine the Heiress and Logan the Spear of Neptune. And I showed everyone my might and abilities. That's why you took me, isn't it, Ed? Because I can be turned into a killer, a weapon to be aimed?"

There was a moment of tense silence, broken only by the faint crackle of static on the radio. "No, Henryk, just no," Ed finally replied, his voice tinged with sadness. "We took you in because of what you did. Not because of your abilities or your achievements. They were a boon, a true boon. Because honestly, I believe you can become the next 'Executor of Mars.' You know of it?"

Henryk let out a heavy sigh, the weight of Ed's words settling on him like a shroud. "I've heard bits and pieces," he admitted quietly.

"The role of Executor has been around for years," Ed began, his voice carrying the weight of centuries past. "It's a title, akin to names like 'The Spear of Neptune' or Jupiter's 'Lord Sorceress.' But for us Martians within the academy, throughout the centuries, there have been heroes of Mars who were never born of Martian stock. These people have joined the ranks of our greatest heroes, whether trueblood or halfbreed, within Mars and blessed by the power of the spikes. You are one of us. I believe that you can be the seventh."

"Seven, that's a lucky number," Henryk remarked, his tone firm.

Ed chuckled softly. "You believe in omens and the sort?" he asked.

"I do," Henryk replied, conviction lacing his words. "There are things within this universe that cannot just be explained by science."

"The Executors are people like you, who have undergone the crucible and survived," Ed continued, his voice growing more impassioned with each word. "Through their deeds, honors, and glories, they have earned the right to bear the title of 'Executor.' They have crossed that threshold of man and beast. And Henryk, you'll become like us. You'll be stronger than your average man, you'll grow stronger, you'll be more durable. Even your bones will gain strength!" Ed's voice swelled with power. "You will be a man and more. Pledge to serve the innocent, and to serve your king, and Henryk Brown, I shall turn you into a Knight of Mars. That is why I let you into our House. Not for your skills, but for your heart, Henryk. When Sirine the princess was getting harassed and abused, not a single one of us moved. But you did. A country hick from some backwater nameless world, a young man with no prestige or honor to your name except the great executor blade along your WarCasket's back. You stepped to Jace of Venus! I've heard of your interference with fights, I've heard of what you've done for Tyson. That is why you're here. You're chivalrous without even knowing the damned word."

Henryk was left speechless, the gravity of Ed's words washing over him like a tidal wave. "Become a Knight of Mars?" he echoed, his voice barely a whisper.

"Not yet," Ed replied firmly. "But soon. Keep working hard, and these missions will show everyone what I see. I believe you have the makings to become the greatest of us, and I want you by my side to help restore honor to my house, or your house now."

Henryk stood frozen, the realization dawning on him that Ed and House Mars were finally giving him an inch. But Henryk didn't know what...

"Are you afraid of the shame of Mars now?" Ed's voice sliced through the heavy air, cutting through Henryk's thoughts like a razor.

Henryk remained silent, but his nod spoke volumes. "Yes," he admitted quietly.

Ed let out a weary sigh, the weight of their shared burden evident in the lines etched on his face. "If you help me restore the glory of our house, I'll give you everything and more. Henryk, I've got a great plan, a plan that is going to fix everything. We can have a Mars II."

"Can we?" Henryk questioned skeptically. "You're telling me they could copy a whole..."

"No," Ed interrupted sharply. "That's not what I mean. You and the rest of the lot are too focused on the physical aspect. We can find new ores, make better gear, reclaim what is lost. But we must let go of the sands of Mars, embrace and centralize upon a New World."

"Where?" Henryk's bitterness seeped into his words. "Edward, I come from the backwoods of the universe. People spit on me and my family. Coming from the Core World will be night and day in how you guys were treated."

"That's why we've never established a proper base of operations," Ed explained. "There are many survivors after the fall, but we're all too damned scattered. Some have joined pirates, some have joined the rebels, and some walk the darkest edges of space."

"What about Sir William and his daughters?" Henryk asked, his voice echoing in the silence that had fallen between them. They stood suspended on the bridge of cement, staring into the abyss below. Isaac, with his scoped Breaker-Rifle, wore his helmet, its old ornate knight styled cowl hiding his features. But Henryk knew beneath it lay state-of-the-art sensors.

"The Williams aren't what we're looking for," Ed replied, his tone final. "The old man was a real mighty knight, still is. Real bitter about what happened to him, he was good in a fight."

"What about the daughters?" Henryk persisted. "Could they be as strong as their old man?"

"Like I said before, they aren't what we're looking for," Ed reiterated. "Maybe, when Mars is reestablished, they're from true Martian stock. Can't lose that, especially now."

Henryk felt a twinge of irritation at Ed's matter-of-fact tone. "Okay, Ed," he said awkwardly, unsure of what else to say.

"It's true," Ed continued, his voice taking on a lecturing tone. "We can get help from them due to their guild situation and their ties to the undercurrents. But I am not going to lose the last daughters of Sir William. He isn't going to lose his daughters. And secondly, they can't be turned into knights. It's all biological."

"And Henryk dared to ask for me. 'What do you mean it's all biological?' Henryk questioned, his voice cutting through the tense air like a knife.

Edward pressed on, his words heavy with implications. 'My momma told me that the spikes were linked to one's testosterone, and on a genetic level, it could only bond to XY chromosomes. Just the way it was, and all tries to change it ended with King or… just rather Mad Ed. Sure, Mars back then just thought that the gift was only vested to by males, religiously, instead of it being biological. Kind of one of the reasons why Mars became a patriarchy. Hard to believe, that…'"

Ed's voice trailed off, as if he realized he was treading into dangerous territory. "The change you guys have are biological?" Henryk pressed, his thoughts racing back to the conversation he'd had with Vinnie and Ty days ago. "Are you saying that the Martian population were just a bunch of mutants?" he demanded.

Ed remained silent, but Henryk could sense his hesitation. "It is difficult to speak to you about this, Henryk. How about after this mission we'll see where this conversation continues," Ed finally replied before abruptly cutting off the transmission.

"Ed, Ed!" Henryk's voice rang out, but before he could finish, a heavy hand slammed into his forehead, jolting him back to reality. "What was that for?" he snapped, glaring at Joseph.

"Shut up," Joseph snapped back, pointing downwards. "There is a freaking GrimGore down there."

"What?" Henryk exclaimed, his heart pounding in his chest. He quickly dropped to one knee, peering through the red-dot sight of his laser rifle. "Whoa," he muttered under his breath as he took in the grotesque form of one of humanity's hostile alien species.

They resembled sharks on legs, their narrow heads permanently fixed in a menacing smile. Clad in inky jumpsuits that hugged their bodies, they crouched around a campfire, their inky black eyes fluttering shut as they succumbed to sleep. But Henryk's attention was drawn to the array of weapons lying near their feet.

"What type of weapons do they've got?" Joseph asked, his voice low and urgent.

Isaac shrugged, passing his binoculars to Henryk. "My helmet will just get in the way. You do it," he ordered, his eyes fixed on the GrimGore below. Henryk complied, adjusting the binoculars and focusing on the arsenal laid out before the sleeping aliens.

With his right hand steady on his rifle, Henryk peered through the binoculars, his eyes scanning the scene below. "They look cobbled together," he remarked, his voice barely above a whisper. The distant figures of the GrimGore moved with an eerie fluidity, their forms barely discernible in the dim light.

The hissing sound of Arthur removing his helmet drew their attention, and Henryk handed him the binoculars. Arthur's eyes narrowed as he studied the scene. "He's right," he confirmed with a solemn nod. "Those bastards are cooking up their own firearms down there."

Isaac clicked his lips in frustration. "This is what happens when these politicians get sloppy with their jobs and exterminators. Now, they send us to do the exterminating." He took a knee, his Breaker-Rifle poised and ready. The tension in the air was palpable as they prepared for what was to come.

Arthur approached Isaac, his gaze fixed on the distant mutants. "You think you can get all three of them?" he inquired, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

Isaac adjusted the knobs on his scope, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Maybe… it's the damned recoil of these damn things. They'll punch through anything, but be damned if you'd break your arm in the process."

Arthur nodded thoughtfully before reattaching his helmet. "You're a good shot, so I believe in you," he reassured Isaac.

Isaac wiped the sweat from his brow, his hand trembling slightly. "And?" he prompted, his voice strained.

"You focus on landing three shots to greatly weaken them. Make it quick, so the echo won't travel far. Knowing GrimGore, they've got their own alert system. Whatever you don't kill… I'll mop up," Arthur replied with steely resolve.

Isaac nodded, his jaw set in determination. He clicked the safety off his weapon, his fingers tightening around the grip. "Aye, within the teachings of The Red Sands. Without sacrifice, nothing can be attained. The body dies, but the spirit lives," he muttered to himself, channeling the ancient mantra of his people. With a deep breath, he steadied himself and squeezed the trigger.

The first shot rang out, striking true against the mutant on the left. Its throat exploded into a mist of blood and flesh, the force of the impact nearly knocking Isaac off balance. But he persisted, firing two more shots in rapid succession.

The second GrimGore reacted with primal fury, unleashing a barrage of bullets in their direction. Isaac's aim remained steady, his shots finding their mark with deadly accuracy. The creature staggered, its limbs shredded by the force of the bullets, but it refused to yield, bellowing in pain and fury.

Blood sprayed, sinew tore, and bone shattered as Isaac's weapon dealt devastating blows to the GrimGore. The creature, now crippled, howled in agony, its once formidable limbs reduced to mangled remnants. "Fuck, it's jammed!" Isaac's cry pierced the chaos, echoing through the grimy confines of the sewer.

Amidst the frenzy, Arthur remained a beacon of calm resolve. With a thunderous roar, he charged forward, drawing his massive blade with the grace of a seasoned warrior. His opponent, a towering GrimGore armed with a bayoneted carbine, met him head-on, snarling and slashing with ferocious intent.

But Arthur was no mere mortal. With swift, fluid movements, he danced around the creature's strikes, his blade a blur of deadly precision. Each swing was met with a deft parry, each thrust dodged with uncanny agility. "Is that your weapon?" Arthur taunted, his voice a mix of mockery and defiance.

The GrimGore roared in frustration, its primitive instincts no match for Arthur's skill. In a single, decisive motion, Arthur brought his blade down with unrelenting force, cleaving through the creature's defenses with brutal efficiency. Blood sprayed, steel clashed, and in the blink of an eye, the battle was over.

As the lifeless bodies of their foes littered the platform, Henryk found himself lost in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Memories of past battles flooded his mind, each one a haunting reminder of the violence that defined his existence. He had killed before, he knew that much, but the details eluded him, lost in a haze of adrenaline and fear.

Was it wrong to feel pride in his actions, in his ability to protect those he loved? The question gnawed at Henryk's conscience, its answer lost in the murky depths of his uncertainty.

Henryk's gaze flitted uneasily over the grotesque form of the creature before him, its monstrous frame looming like a specter in the dim light of the sewer. Muscles bulged beneath its mottled hide, talons glinting ominously in the shadows. Its eyes, twin pools of unfathomable darkness, seemed to bore into Henryk's soul, filling him with a nameless dread.

With trembling hands, Henryk raised his laser rifle, the weight of the weapon a stark reminder of the peril that surrounded them. His mind churned with images of violence and death, each one a chilling reminder of the dangers they faced. What had he gotten himself into? He wasn't a soldier, he was a dreamer, a seeker of adventure. The thought of facing death in this forsaken place filled him with a sickening sense of despair.

"I should go back," he whispered to himself, the words barely audible over the din of the sewer. "Back to my family, my home. What good am I to them dead and buried in some forgotten grave?" But even as he spoke, a fierce determination welled up within him, banishing his doubts like shadows in the light.

He tightened his grip on the rifle, his knuckles white with strain. He would not falter, not now. The legacy of his father, the sacrifices of his family—they were his burden to bear, his responsibility to honor. With a steely resolve, he steeled himself for the battle ahead, his mind clear, his purpose unwavering.

As Arthur approached, clad in armor that spoke of a bygone era, Henryk's thoughts turned to the mysteries that surrounded them. Where had they obtained such powerful weaponry, such formidable protection? The answers eluded him, lost in the labyrinthine corridors of his mind.

Arthur's armor, in particular, caught Henryk's attention—a relic of a forgotten age, its design both archaic and advanced. As he studied the intricate patterns etched into its surface, a sense of unease washed over him. There were secrets here, he knew, secrets that lay buried beneath layers of deceit and betrayal.

But now was not the time for questions, not when their lives hung in the balance. With a silent nod to Arthur, Henryk readied himself for the task ahead, his mind focused, his heart steady. For in the darkness of the sewer, amidst the shadows and the filth, they would stand together, united in purpose and resolve. And though the road ahead was fraught with danger, Henryk knew that they would face it head-on, their spirits unbroken, their courage undimmed.

Henryk grappled with his thoughts as Arthur fixed him with a steady gaze, the sound of his helmet clinking off punctuating the silence like a warning bell. There was something knightly about Arthur, a relic of a bygone era transplanted into the chaos of their present situation. Henryk felt the weight of his warm brown eyes, a stark contrast to his own troubled blue.

"You seem troubled, Ser Henryk," Arthur remarked, his voice firm yet tinged with a hint of concern.

Henryk forced a smile, though inwardly he felt anything but calm. What was it that troubled him so? If only he could shake this unease, if only he could find solace in their shared purpose. But Ed's words echoed in his mind, a constant reminder of the weight of their mission, the burden of rebuilding the House of The Red Moon. Was Arthur privy to their plans, or was there something more beneath the surface?

He tore his gaze away from the lifeless corpse before them. "I'm fine," he muttered, though the tremor in his voice betrayed his true feelings.

"You don't seem so, Ser Henryk," Arthur observed. "You've been as jittery as a bee in a bottle. And while I admire your spirit, I can't help but notice your inexperience. A boy in power armor, no less—a squire in a suit of war."

Henryk's grip tightened on his rifle, his gaze narrowing. "What are you getting at?" he demanded.

Arthur raised a placating hand. "I don't fault you, Ser Henryk. It's clear you're out of your depth, thrust into a role you never asked for. But do you truly understand the gravity of our situation? The stakes we're playing for?"

Henryk bristled at the implication. "I may be new to this, but I'm no coward," he retorted, though doubt gnawed at the edges of his resolve.

Arthur's expression softened. "I don't doubt your courage, Henryk. But there are those among us who question your loyalty, your commitment to our cause. Some even whisper of darker things..."

The insinuation struck a nerve, and Henryk's defiance hardened into defiance. "I know where my loyalties lie," he declared, his voice ringing with newfound conviction.

Arthur regarded him with a knowing look. "Then prove it, Ser Henryk. In this crucible of fire and blood, let your actions speak louder than words."

"There are others who believe you can become an Executor of Mars," Arthur replied, his voice carrying a weight of solemnity.

"That's not the first time I've heard that word," Henryk admitted.

"Have you any inkling of what it entails?" Arthur inquired.

Henryk hesitated. "I-I'm not entirely sure... I know it's a title, but..."

Arthur chuckled softly. "Out there on the fringes of the frontier, such things may not penetrate as deeply into your world. Perhaps they linger on the edges of your legends, whispered by passing ships. But we Martians have seen men from diverse realms join our ranks, often from the Academy. Young men like yourself, who somehow find themselves aligned with House Mars."

Henryk's lip curled in defiance. "Somehow joined?" he scoffed. "Ed and I saved a girl out there. I pledged myself out of duty, to bring honor to my homeland, to help achieve your objectives... to prevent House Mars from falling into dishonor," he retorted sharply.

Arthur fell into a contemplative silence.

"You've made an impression, Henryk," Arthur acknowledged. "An Antlered Knight, a lone warrior, a mage, an abomination. Many names could be bestowed upon you, each resonating even as the sun sets," he mused. Henryk's sneer betrayed his skepticism, but Arthur pressed on. "There could be songs and legends born of your deeds. Television shows and epic movies. You've joined a brotherhood centuries in the making. An order that once held back the encroaching darkness, but has since become the very hand of tyranny. We've plundered, terrorized, and betrayed. Henryk, do not mistake us for paragons of honor. I speak to you now, if you can bear to hear it. This path is different. Ed has spoken of your first kill..."

Henryk's retort was swift. "Do not belittle my experience. I've faced combat before, I've taken lives..."

Arthur's smirk was faint but unmistakable. "...and you're a quick learner. You have skill with your weapons, and I have no doubt you'll improve. But you should be among the other squires, learning the tenets of the warrior."

"What tenets?" Henryk snorted. "I saved Sirine, I intervened when none of you would!" His words ignited a tension that crackled between him and Arthur, drawing the attention of their comrades.

"Shut your mouth, Henryk!" Vinnie snapped, the edge in his voice slicing through the air. Henryk and Arthur drew dangerously close, the heat of their confrontation palpable.

"Do not provoke me, Ser Arthur," Henryk retorted, his gaze locked onto the eyehole slit of Arthur's Templar Plate. But before he could utter another word, his head met steel with a resounding thud.

"Do not deny me," Henryk repeated, his voice echoing in the confines of his helmet. "I've come here for creed, for my home, for honor. I will not be denied. I am strong, I can win, I want, want, want..."

"Honor!" Arthur silently howled through the rusty rattling microphone of his helmet. "Honor, Henryk, in every kill, in every death. For they are our enemies, the beasts in the dark. Your armor is truth, your sword is justice. It was us who held the gates when Earth fell. Our fathers, blessed without the spikes, held the line when all else failed. Even without the spikes, we stand as warriors. You are one of us, Henryk. Wipe out these vermin with no remorse, think of this as your homeworld. Defend it, honor it with the code of chivalry, and do right." And with those words, they parted ways.

Henryk slammed his hand across his features, and Arthur knew his words had struck a chord.

They each took their own path. "We're going to cut down the left way. Henryk, radio Ed," Arthur instructed.

Henryk switched on his radio. "Ed... Ed... Ed..."

"Eddie," snapped Isaac, his grip tight on his rifle, glaring at the trigger with intensity. "Eddie, explain to me why my rifle is so damned rusty. The thing nearly broke my shoulder!"

"Hah," snorted Vinnie. "If we were raised on Mars, we'd have been shooting those things till our shoulders got used to it. Say what you will about Martian weaponry, but our caliber punched straight through that GrimGore."

Isaac chuckled. "Those fuckers didn't even know what hit them," he remarked, lining up his fingers into a makeshift gun and taking aim down the entrance toward the left tunnel. "Us Martians, can't remember much of it. But there was always a pride in that." Rising from his crouch, he gripped his weapon. "Come on, folks, we've lingered down here for far too long."

They descended into the caverns, Arthur noting that Henryk seemed more relaxed yet more prepared. He wasn't letting battle lust or fear take over. Arthur didn't like what was happening to him, but it was a trial by fire they all faced.

Running and resting for a mix of four hours, they followed the scanner and, at times, just rested, realizing they weren't there yet. It was an unknown sewer system beneath a sprawling city. But they found a way forward.

"We should invest in some AutoBikes. Get around real quick with this armor we're lugging," Vinnie suggested loudly.

"I'm going to follow the scanner ahead. I'll do a quick scan," Isaac announced, moving to the side of the wall as they rested.

"Henryk, I didn’t finish explaining to you about the Executor role," Arthur proclaimed, pausing his stride to catch up to Henryk.

"Huh? What about it?" replied Henryk.

Isaac was huffing. "These scans don’t make any real sense." He gazed at the cavern around them. Like the ones from before, there were only openings and just half-torso cement plates. Isaac held his own rifle, scanning the area with his sensors.

"The Executor role isn’t something that is offered very oftenly. There have only been six; you would be the seventh. There is great honor in such a thing, and you should be forever grateful for the life you’ll have one day at Edward’s side."

"Wow, really, it’s that prestigious?" Henryk's grin widened.

"Yes, even in the past. The Great Martian King would’ve allowed someone like you many privileges. Well, that depends on the King. Some of those guys would’ve forbidden drinking but would’ve allowed heretical orgies in the tavern. Listen, it’s an honor, and there is a real dark history involved within this role. Beware, and you are being rushed."

Henryk’s eyes went wide. Isaac scanned the area, and for a moment, his eyes widened. He thought he could’ve seen something moving in the distance. Gripping his rifle, he slipped the scanner into his pocket and hefted his scoped rifle, gazing through the reticle, but he didn’t see anything.

"Edward believes in you," Arthur replied. "It’s a good thing. You may receive your spikes sooner than others; it’s safer that way. You’re a quick study, even now. You've been a potshot with the range, and you carry your laser rifle well."

Henryk smiled at that.

"You are going to make an honorable Bannermen one day," Arthur continued, raising his hand. "Honor your lord, pray to the gods, and stay alive," he added more firmly. "You are talented, but you should've stayed on the ship. Fight hard, show us why Ed believes you're different... but different may not be enough."

Henryk snorted.

"Let’s see, Henryk," Arthur said. "How lucky you are."

"How lucky I am, fucker. What the hell are even the spikes?" Henryk snapped angrily.

But Arthur was silent. "You bastard, you just spat to me a bunch of secretive Martian jumbo. And now you expect me to believe you in all this. The spikes, and Ed’s a lord!"

Yet, Arthur stayed silent.

Henryk continued. "So, you’ll call me a brother, but you won’t help me?" he prodded.

And Arthur sighed. "Survive this mission, and maybe we’ll…"

Arthur reached to his shoulder. In a flash of an instant, there was blood and bone as the bullet pierced through the middle of Arthur’s middle thumb and through two other fingers. However, the second one limply hung together in strands of sinews, muscle, and flesh.

Arthur screamed, slumping to the side. Isaac cried out loudly as he spotted multiple red eyes—no, red dots. “Plutonian - 56, Plutonian - 56... 56!” screamed Isaac. “Hit the fucking deck!” he snarled. Henryk seized Arthur, realizing the difference between the old plate and the other plates; this one had exposed fingers, possibly just an early model difference. Yet, that was a high caliber shot.

More bullets swiftly followed as Henryk seized Arthur and threw themselves against the west side of the walls, Vinnie, and Isaac upon the North. Henryk dared to glance, and from the bullet hails and sparks, he saw the GrimGore’s eternal smile. There were many of them.

Henryk was frozen in shock, descending into a fit of surprised shock and eeriness. In an adrenaline frenzy, he realized that if he did not return fire, if he was not prepared to kill, he was going to die.

And Henryk acted before they all did. He rose along the cover, angled his rifle to his shoulder, and Isaac watched with surprised shock. Gripping his rifle, even as its trigger was rusted, he let the weapon loose.

“A trap… the fucker was a trap!” snapped Isaac.

“Serves us right for walking into this. We’re better than this!” snapped Vinnie, rousing with a grenade and chucking it into the space between them. The GrimGore kept on shooting, but some ducked and dodged from the thrown grenade.

This was the moment. Henryk still fired his laser rifle, the weapon expunging its spent battery. He clicked it off, slammed in another battery, sealing it in its cage. Breathing hard, nearly spitting, he lined an orange shot between a GrimGark’s features, splashing laser straight through its nose. Henryk was thrown into fury and rage. Damn them, damn this alien filth. Humanity was alone in the universe, beset by threats in all manner of directions. The insects were only a wall.

The grenade blew up, turning them into mincemeat. Henryk spotted one about to cock their own grenade, narrowed his eyes, and lined a shot through its stomach and then through its chest.

“Good shit, countryman!” snapped Arthur, and Vinnie raced towards his side.

“The squire is doing real good, Ser Vincent,” spoke Arthur.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” regarded Vinnie as he nursed his arm. “We’ll get a good amount of cash for this one. I’m sure that Ed will allow you to get prosthetics.”

Arthur smiled at that. “That will be…acceptable.” But he still gazed down mournfully at his hand, now bandaged up, the pain dulled by the painkillers crafted by Vinnie. “Where did you learn all this stuff from, Hospitaler?” regarded Arthur.

Vinnie chuckled, dodging a stray bullet. “Henryk, you’ve got a grenade, fucking use it!” And Isaac slammed another large magazine into his gun.

Isaac rose to gain coverage on Henryk, his side either dead or dying thanks to the mixture of his rifle and Vinnie’s grenade. What sort of medic… Knight Hospitaler utilized grenades? The Space Kind.

Henryk cocked and threw his own grenade. They hid and erupted as they heard the sounds of pain arise from the GrimGore. “Take that you alien fucks!” replied loudly Isaac, now rising in full courage as he took aim with his scoped rifle. The weapon found its mark, and Isaac still felt the biting pain, but this was a different type of pain.

Isaac smirked as he felt the pain kick into his shoulder, one dead. Ripped apart from the top of its chest…not the neck, the neck and head of the GrimGore still remained but a large hole within its chest was missing. Isaac pivoted and the others followed.

“Reloading!” snapped Isaac.

He unclicked the magazine protector, and the massive magazine slid out. He clicked in a new one and cocked it. “Ai, we’ve got them on the run!” snapped joyfully Vinnie, and they all rose and emptied their magazines into the fleeing alien creatures.

Sweaty, anxious, but a thrill… a triumphant thrill. They rose and cheered, clasped hands, and whooped into the air. They had battled and won. “Good job, lads,” replied Henryk. And he anxiously and shakily fumbled with his magazine, unclicking the battery of the laser rifle as the spent cartridge collided to the ground.

"Atta boy for your first assault," Isaac remarked, his eyes scanning the lifeless forms scattered around. "I can still remember mine," he added, his voice trailing off as if lost in the memories of past battles. "We hit them harder than us, but I can’t say we had less or more casualties. It was a long while ago."

Henryk nodded, his smile tinged with both relief and apprehension.

"Henryk," Isaac called out again, his tone grave. "Don’t give in to battle lust. It’s easy to lose yourself, especially in your first fight. Find your rhythm, hone your skills, and learn from the experience. We're guild missions, but I want us to function as a unit. Like Martians of old."

"Good," Henryk replied, his voice shaky but determined. His gaze lingered on the GrimGars, thoughts of home and what might have been haunting him. He knew he had to steel himself, to see these creatures for what they were: enemies to be defeated.

A distant engine roared in the darkness, drawing their attention. "What was that?" Arthur's voice cut through the tension, while Vinnie finished tending to his injuries, already feeling the effects of the painkillers.

Vinnie rose, fear evident in his eyes behind the visor of his helmet. "That's a car?" he questioned, uncertainty lacing his words.

Isaac understood the urgency. "We've got to make a decision: run or hold our ground," he declared, his voice urgent. "What do you think?"

"Radio Ed and tell him we're deviating from the mission path," Vinnie suggested.

Henryk nodded, fingers fumbling with the radio. "Ed, Ed, Ed…" Static was his only response, and then the ground trembled beneath them.

"What's happening topside?" Isaac wondered aloud, but their attention was drawn to a growing light approaching from the darkness. "Get behind the barricades!" he ordered, urgency coloring his voice.

Turning to his own comm, Isaac relayed orders. "Joseph, we need an exit. I’ll send you our location, align it with your scouting data."

Isaac produced his electronic device, his fingers flicking over the knobs and dials, sweat glistening on their features. A sickening feeling churned in Henryk’s stomach as the lights momentarily enveloped them, casting eerie shadows against the cement barricades they hid behind within the strange tower. Darkness pressed in around them, but the light felt like a deceptive veil, especially as the clinking of turrets echoed in the distance.

"Get down!" Henryk's scream pierced the tension, his instincts driving him to action. He sensed the danger, felt Isaac reaching to pull him to safety, but Henryk tapped into his magical potential and soared.

"Ol Nioh!" The incantation left his lips, his rifle abandoned as he raised both hands high. They watched in astonishment as the GrimGar's bullets, destined for them, collided with a brilliant blue barrier.

A massive wall of magical protection halted their advance, their shouts and roars drowned out by the chaos. The Sons of Mars returned fire, their shots piercing through Henryk’s shield and striking the vehicles, but more threats were emerging, converging on them with deadly intent.

"By the time we’ve killed all these from my homeworld, their colony was already at 75%!" Arthur's voice cut through the fray, his words heavy with bitterness.

Isaac sneered, dropping a GrimGar with precise shots. "Henryk, how long can you hold on?" he shouted over the din.

Henryk was sweating, his head throbbing with pain, his hands trembling beneath his gloves. He gritted his teeth against the agony, his magic straining under the relentless assault. With a howl, he unleashed his power, but Isaac knew it wouldn’t be enough.

"Oi, that’s enough for me!" Isaac’s smile was grim as he unleashed a barrage of fire upon the aliens, but still, they pressed on.

Amidst the chaos, a lone GrimGar emerged, its figure ominous against the chaos. They were pinned down, their escape cut off, and now Henryk’s magic was their last line of defense. But as the creature lifted its makeshift missile launcher, taking aim, the air crackled with impending danger.

Henryk’s mind shattered like glass, a searing pain gripping him as the shield crumbled before his eyes. He howled in agony, clutching his head as if trying to contain the explosion within.

“Someone grab Henryk!” Vinnie’s voice sliced through the chaos, his pistol blazing as he unleashed fiery fury upon the encroaching enemy.

Arthur, using his sword as a makeshift crutch, scanned the scene with grim determination. “Guys, they’ve found a way to reach us!” His words hung heavy in the air, a foreboding omen of their impending doom.

Isaac sneered, reaching for the radio to call Joseph, but before he could make a move, the second missile struck. The cement platform beneath them cracked and groaned, its once-sturdy facade crumbling under the assault.

With horror dawning on them, Arthur shouted, “Henryk, get away from the middle!” But it was too late. With widened eyes, Henryk realized his peril as he plummeted into the darkness below.

Reacting swiftly, Arthur leaped into action, propelled forward by sheer desperation. His good hand found purchase where Henryk’s leg should have been, but it was futile. The word “Help” hovered on his lips, a futile plea swallowed by the abyss.

As Henryk tumbled, his screams echoed through the chamber, his power armor failing to shield him from the inevitable. Arthur could only watch helplessly as his comrade disappeared into the yawning void, a feeling of utter powerlessness consuming him.

With clenched fists and a heart heavy with guilt, Arthur cursed under his breath. “Damn it,” he muttered, the words heavy with regret and sorrow. But amidst the chaos and the laughter of the GrimGar, there was only the grim realization that they were now truly alone in the dark.