Through the fine-machined muzzle brake, the long barrel of the Exitus rifle drank in the moonlight.
Each curve and edge had been hand-forged and oiled to perfection, the abaddon black finish swallowing glare until it seemed to merge with the shadow it lay in.
The rifle's long, slender frame rested on a low bipod sunk into the jungle loam, the faint scent of oiled steel mixing with the damp, green rot of the forest floor.
A gloved hand worked with deliberate precision, opening the bolt with a Click that seemed unnaturally sharp against the muffled night.
From a pouch at his side, Jaeger drew the round, its tip a voidblack so absolute it devoured the light, casting no reflection, the Null Turbo-Penetrator round.
For a heartbeat it looked less like metal and more like a hole punched in reality itself.
—
Cold bled from the cartridge, unnatural in the humid air. Frost traced faint spiderwebs across its casing, numbing the pads of Jaeger's fingers.
A pair of mercenaries crouched nearby, eyes flicking toward it, then away just as quickly. One shivered despite the warmth from his camo, muttering about the air feeling thinner.
The other kept his hands busy, unwilling to admit the prickling unease crawling over his skin.
Jaeger alone was untouched by its presence. His breathing was steady, his focus absolute as he slid the round into the chamber.
The bolt closed with a final, definitive Clak, the oppressive chill sealed within the weapon.
—
Through the scope,
the jungle became a layered painting—foliage and shadow, heat and motion.
In the far distance, framed by broken canopy and starlit mist, a cloaked figure stood sentinel over the gore of fleshes, hides and bones.
Jaeger adjusted the magnification, eyes narrowing.
"Target acquired." His voice was quiet, flat, devoid of emotion.
—
The crosshairs centered on Bergelmir's masked head, the grotesque helm forged from fused beastman skulls, their horns and jagged ridges framing the cold blue glow that burned from the eyeholes.
Even beneath the macabre covering, that psychic light was unmistakable—pure, unyielding, and utterly aware.
The scope's image pulled back in the mind's eye, past the stark clarity of the lens, past the length of the Exitus rifle, past the low mound of earth where Jaeger lay prone.
From high above, the jungle unfurled under pale moonlight, two Terran kilometers stretching between hunter and prey.
Jaeger drew in a slow breath, steady, precise—
Bergelmir turned his head.
—
Through mist, through shadow, through the distance itself, the Grey Knight looked straight into the shooter's soul.
—
The jolt made Jaeger's trigger break early—
BANG!
—
The void round punched through the humid air and hit home, tearing a hole through Bergelmir's shoulder.
Fragments of the beastman mask scattered, but the Terminator barely flinched, crouching low and raising his uninjured arm.
Psychic energy flared, forming a shimmering force shield.
The first shot cracked across the battlefield like a whip. Every head turned.
"Shieldwalls!" Helsin's voice cut the chaos, harsh and commanding.
—
The remaining beastmen scrambled, slamming together heavy shields hewn from Vraskariin scales—each plate dark, iridescent, and almost as tall as its wielder.
In seconds, they formed an unbroken barrier between the Grey Knight and the sniper's position, the hiss of their breath mingling with the rattle of shield edges locking into place.
—
Jaeger's eyes narrowed, clicked his tongue, the sound low and irritated.
The beastmen shield wall rippled under Bergelmir's command, their massive Vraskariin-scale plates locking tighter.
He worked the bolt, Click-Clak, and slid in three rounds.
The first was grey with an asymmetrical core: a shield-breaker.
The second and third, sitting just behind it in the magazine, was standard Turbo-Penetrators.
His breathing slowed again. The crosshairs rose from the beastman plates to where Bergelmir crouched, force shield flickering faintly under the moonlight.
BANG!
The first shot cracked, and the shield-breaker hit the wall like a sledgehammer. Vraskariin-scale shields shuddered, beastmen staggered, their footing lost.
The blast rippled through the psychic barrier, fragmenting its shimmering layers in a cascade of broken light.
Before the echo even faded, Jaeger's finger squeezed again.
BANG!
The second shot streaked through the collapsing ward, sliding past ragged gaps in the beastman line.
It struck true, slamming into Bergelmir's second true rib, tearing through the bone and punching out through his scapula in a mist of pulverized ceramite and blood.
Bergelmir's stance broke for the first time, his massive frame rocking under the hit.
A harsh, wet cough escaped his vox-grille.
"Get down!" he barked, voice rough but still commanding.
—
Helsin nodded instantly, shoving the nearest beastman down as the rest of the shield wall lowered themselves, their plates bracing against the earth.
Bergelmir's massive frame straightened. His left palm lifted skyward, fingers splayed, and the air above him began to warp.
A great blue radiance bloomed, growing brighter and denser until it was like a shard of a dying star, light refracting off the beastmen's Vraskariin-scale shields and painting the treeline in ghostly azure.
The psychic hum deepened, the ground itself thrumming in resonance.
—
From two kilometers away, Jaeger's eyes widened behind his scope.
"Find cover!" he snapped, his voice cutting through the tension.
—
SWOOSH.
BOOM, BOOM, BOOM, BOOM!
A barrage of pure force, massive as a Helldrake, tore from Bergelmir's palm.
It howled through the air, slicing through tree trunks as if they were reeds, uprooting vegetation in a wide, merciless swath.
The barrage detonated in a series of thunderclaps just behind Jaeger's prone position, the shockwave lifting earth and splintered wood into the air.
Kochav and the others, with Vraskariin occupied behind them, snapped to the direction of the source.
—
Shouts were cut short as three of the mercenaries were vaporized in the blast, their positions marked only by scorched patches in the jungle floor.
The survivors ducked lower, ears ringing, the acrid scent of ozone and burning vegetation clinging to the air. The jungle still trembled from Bergelmir's psychic barrage, smoke curling upward in black plumes.
Jaeger's voice snapped across the vox like a lash.
"Mortar teams—three lines, get ready!"
—
Six troopers broke cover, each pair hauling the segmented weight of Imperial-pattern light mortars.
In seconds, three squat tubes were planted in the loam, tripods biting deep, barrels angled high toward the canopy.
"Incendiaries." Jaeger's words hung through the vox.
—
From reinforced ammo crates came the shells, finned cylinders painted in angry bands of crimson and orange, their casing faintly warm to the touch.
Even through gloves, the handlers could feel the heat bleeding from the volatile payload, the loaders moved in practiced unison.
Scrrrnnnk.
the sharp scrape of tail fins grinding against the inside of the tube.
Clink.
metal on metal as the round slid home.
Thunk.
a hollow impact as the shell hit the fixed pin.
Then—
POP-POP-POP!
Tthe propellant's kick sent a shudder through the crew's arms, a tongue of white-orange flame licking skyward before disappearing into the canopy.
The sequence repeated down the line, each launch staggered by half a breath. The acrid tang of ignited propellant and accelerants bled into the humid air.
Jaeger stood before the lanes, eyes locked on the blue shimmer of Bergelmir's ward in the distance.
"All batteries—adjust arc. Target the Astartes."
—
A final BOOM! echoed into the night, the incendiaries vanishing above before gravity and intent brought them screaming back to earth.
—
Bergelmir's gauntleted hand snapped toward the incoming arcs. He clenched his palm.
BOOM!
one mortar shell burst midair, a ball of flame behind a drift of cloud, its orange glow licking the underbelly of the night for a heartbeat.
Another aim,
BOOM!
a second detonation scattered burning fragments over the canopy.
One more,
BOOM!
the third shell burst apart in a violent blossom of fire.
But then the rain began.
A dozen more incendiaries streaked downward, trails of heat and smoke crisscrossing against the night. He could not intercept them all.
"Inquisitor! Get behind me!" Bergelmir roared.
—
Helsin didn't argue. Hhe hurried to his back, laspistol trembling in his hand, breath harsh and uneven, his entire posture coiled with tension.
Bergelmir lifted his palm upward, centered over his helm. Behind the broken mask of fused beastman skulls, his blue eye-lenses dimmed.
He closed his eyes, and in a voice barely louder than the wind, intoned:
Per voluntatem Tuam, inconcussus sto; (By Your will, I stand unyielding;)
Per aspectum Tuum, integer fio. (By Your gaze, I am made whole.)
Ubi lux Tua cadit, nulla tenebra manet. (Where Your light falls, no darkness endures.)
Ubi veritas Tua stat, mendacia comburuntur. (Where Your truth stands, all lies burn away.)
Ego sum arx, Tu es murus. (I am the fortress, You are the wall.)
Ego sum gladius, Tu es manus. (I am the blade, You are the hand.)
Protege me nunc, Magister Humani Generis, (Shield me now, Master of Mankind,)
Ut iterum officium meum erga Humanum Genus expleam.
(So that I may resume my duty to Mankind.)
—
The words rippled through the air, and suddenly a shaft of pure radiance erupted around him, blinding against the darkness, punching through the canopy into the star-flecked sky.
The Beacon of Protection flared, its light a promise and a warning.
The falling rounds crossed into the beacon's radius.
some faltered, losing speed until they dropped harmlessly with a dull thud; others swerved, striking earth outside the circle in useless blasts of heat and smoke.
One breached the ward, but when it struck, its fuse sputtered and died in silence right before Bergelmir's armored feet.
—
Even at this distance, the air seemed to shift.
The pressure pressed against lungs and spine, a weight that was neither heat nor gravity, but something older, heavier—an authority.
—
Through Jaeger's scope, the world was chaos, orange fireballs blooming and collapsing, tongues of flame licking across blackened earth, the sharp tang of cooked flesh almost reaching his tongue just from the sight.
But in the very center of it all, cutting through the madness like a blade through cloth, stood a single pillar of light.
A strand of pure, unyielding yellow, unwavering amid the cacophony of fire and ruin. It didn't just illuminate.
it pushed back against the flames, against the smoke, against the night itself.
—
Jaeger rose from his prone position, finger still pressed against the trigger, the scope's glare casting pale light over his features.
That calm mask he always wore was cracked—illuminated by something colder, deeper… disturbed.
—
He shifted the Exitus rifle up into a shoulder-fired stance, eyes locked unblinking on the unyielding figure at the center of the chaos.
"How is this possible?" His voice was low,
the calmness drowned under a slow-burning hatred.
"This is beyond logic."
—
Click...
His gaze flicked down to the chamber, misfire.
The hammer had fallen, but the primer had not ignited.
—
A strange sound escaped him then,not frustration, not fear, something far more unsettling.
A sharp, hollow maniacal laugh cut the jungle's tense air.
He let it carry for a breath before the rifle slipped from his hands and dropped to the loam with a muted thud.
—
Far across the battlefield,
Bergelmir lowered his arm, the light of the Beacon still shimmering faintly around him.
His aim shifted, straight toward Jaeger's position.
SHTZZ—BOOM!
A single spear of force-lightning split the air, cutting a clean path through foliage before erupting in a violent explosion in Jaeger's direction.
—
Bergelmir's arm then fell limply to his side.
A short, derisive scoff hissed from behind the vox-grille, then his armored bulk collapsed forward, crashing into the earth with the weight of a felled statue.
—
Helsin dropped to one knee at his side, laspistol still in hand, his other pressing to the plates of his gorget.
"You stubborn old bastard…" he muttered, breathless.
"How did you even do that?"
—
The words were barely more than a whisper, laced with genuine shock, and something close to awe.
—
Bergelmir's massive form lay still. Within the fortress of his flesh,
the Sus-an Membrane engaged, shutting down all but the barest vital functions. His breathing slowed to an imperceptible whisper,
and his Larraman's organ flooded the ragged wounds with its alchemical seal, clotting and hardening into a living barrier against further blood loss.
—
Helsin crouched low over him, half-shielding the fallen giant with his own frame.
The heat bit at his back, but he did not move.
—
Behind them,
the great tree loomed, its colossal trunk wrapped in a crown of fire. Flames climbed higher and higher, hungrily devouring the ancient bark.
Every snap of splitting timber sent a spray of embers cascading into the air, falling all around them like ashen snow.
Some embers sizzled against Bergelmir's armor, dying instantly against the cold, unyielding ceramite. Others drifted onto Helsin's shoulders, glowing faintly as he ignored them.
The battle noise dulled for a fleeting heartbeat, swallowed by the roar of the burning titan above them.
—
Kochav's eyes widened, his breath catching.
Through the immaterium, the disturbance struck him like a cold blade, wrong, jagged, and enraging.
His teeth clenched hard enough to ache, the raw pressure of his emotion pushing at the edges of his control.
Behind them,
the Vraskariin tore into what remained of the Xarcarion soldiers, its jagged maw working in slow, grotesque motions. The crunch of shattered armor and splintered bone filled the air, mingling with the distant roar of the burning tree.
Shadowgaze passed him without a word at first, her armor brushing against his arm. Her fist tightened, knuckles pale beneath her glove.
"Someone will pay," she murmured, the words carrying a low, feral growl before vanishing into the smoke. Her eyes fixed into the burning tree.
—
Mira stepped forward, her expression unreadable behind the flicker of firelight. She set a hand on Kochav's shoulder, firm but steady.
He turned toward her, their eyes locking in a wordless exchange. No reassurances. No false promises. Only the shared understanding that something wrong happened.
—
"We still have the Vraskariin to deal with, my lady,"
Rouar muttered from just behind Shadowgaze, his voice low, edged with urgency.
—
She tilted her head slightly, about to respond,
—
when Kochav's voice cut in—flat, stripped of any warmth.
"I will take care of it."
—
The sudden stillness in Shadowgaze's stride was brief, her brows drew tight for the span of a heartbeat before her expression smoothed into calm composure.
She turned fully to face him, measuring something in his gaze.
"Alright," she said at last, the single word deliberate.
—
Without another glance, she pivoted toward the burning great tree, the Kroots and Felinids falling in on either flank as she began to walk.
The firelight cast her long shadow forward, stretching into the smoke.
"You don't have permission to die," she murmured, the words just loud enough to carry back to him,
"until our deal is fulfilled."
—
Kochav's eyes lingered on Shadowgaze's back for a long moment, watching her silhouette fade into the smoke and firelight.
Only when she was nearly gone did he turn his attention back toward the Vraskariin.
Mira stepped up beside him, casually cracking her knuckles.
—
"Can't you let me have this cool moment alone?" Kochav muttered,
his right hand resting on his hip.
—
Mira signed in reply, "Three hands, better than one."
She gave a small shrug to punctuate it.
—
Kochav scoffed under his breath, the corner of his mouth twitching as if to hide a smile.
—
Before them,
The Vraskariin's pale body dripped with fresh human blood, its faceless head tilting toward Kochav and Mira.
A low crackle of static bled into the air, the heat around it distorting the treeline. Kochav's pupils flared with a cold blue glow—
then a whisper pierced his ear, daemonic.
"Who said I...."
"Who said I got one arm?"
The words slipped from his lips in perfect unison with the voice.
—
The subjugation ward above his left stump seared painfully, and in a shimmer of unreality, the cursed forearm phased into existence.
Smooth, iridescent purple scales, spiked joints, and hooked claws—all anchored by a daemon's unblinking eye in the palm.
Its whispering was nothing but a muted hiss, smothered under Bergelmir's ward.
Mira's gaze flicked to it, her eyes narrowing, one brow rising before tilting her head in silent question.
The Vraskariin's body pulsed, a low droning hum vibrating through the ground. Claws crushed deep into the dirt, its tail coiling like a serpent.
Kochav locked eyes with Mira again.
"What?" he muttered, flicking his cursed hand dismissively before facing the beast again.
The pulsation deepened—its wings flexed wide, talons grinding against rock.
"I suddenly have the urge to kill something, so I'll humbly beat you into a pulp."
Dagger in his right hand, revolver in his left—
BOOM!
Lightning spat from the Vraskariin's heat-pits.
—
Kochav and Mira sprang in opposite directions, diving into the treeline, sliding into cover as splintered bark and smoking leaves rained down around them.
—
The Vraskariin's faceless head swiveled, heat pits locking squarely on Kochav.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Arcs of lightning spat from them in rapid succession, each one chasing the brightest heat signature in its sight.
"Of course, it's me." Kochav muttered under his breath,
irritation curling his tone as he broke into a sprint.
—
The bolts came relentlessly, cleaving through trunks and blasting apart cover.
Chunks of burning wood crashed around him, but he only grinned wider, weaving between detonations and keeping his pace forward.
High above,
Mira vaulted into the low branches of a thick-barked tree.
In one smooth motion, she dug into her belt, pulled free a pair of shock grenades, and thumbed their activators, threw them at its face.
BOOM!
The grenades detonated in twin bursts of electric light.
The Vraskariin recoiled, its senses scrambled, a guttural hum breaking into a distorted screech. It shook its head violently, flaring its wings for balance—
CRACK!
—then lashed out with its tail.
The strike hit Mira's perch like a siege ram, shearing the trunk clean in half.
The upper section of the tree splintered away in a rain of wood and leaves, crashing down into the underbrush as Mira pushed off into the open air.
The beast's head jerked away from Mira, still shaking off the shock grenades' static bite.
—
This was Kochav's moment.
He broke from the treeline, boots pounding against the churned mud, revolver raised.
The pale titan's right leg loomed before him, thick cords of muscle and sinew sliding under translucent, vein-mapped hide.
BANG! BANG!
Two shots screamed out from the cylinder, each striking high on the knee joint.
But against the Vraskariin's unnatural frame, they might as well have been thrown pebbles. The rounds flattened with a sharp tink and fell away, leaving only shallow dark marks in the surface.
Kochav's jaw tightened. "Damn it."
—
The Vraskariin's faceless head swiveled down toward him, heat pits flaring, a shimmer of electric arcs dancing over its wing claws.
The tail, a pale blur, thick as a tree trunk, hissing through the air.
SWOOSH!
Kochav's body dropped low in a sharp sidestep, boots skidding in the mud as the tail swept over him. The air displacement alone rattled his teeth, sending loose dirt and leaves spiraling in its wake.
THOOM!
It slammed into the ground just behind him, gouging a trench a meter deep. Clods of earth erupted, showering his back and shoulders with wet soil.
The impact's shockwave rattled the treeline, sending startled carrion birds screaming into the night sky.
He straightened, breath steady, revolver still in his left hand.
His gaze flicked from the crater back to the Vraskariin's towering form, its pale body glistening under the firelit haze.
Kochav's revolver rose, the muzzle glowing faintly as psychic energy began to coil within the barrel, the light pulsing in time with his heartbeat.
The air shimmered around the weapon, a faint hum bleeding into the night.
—
Above, Mira had already made her move while falling.
One hand gripped a jagged, curving horn, the other curling into a golden fist.
Her body swung from the horn's base, momentum carrying her in a brutal arc—
CRACK!
The blow smashed into the Vraskariin's right heat pit, a bloom of fractured chitin and sizzling tissue.
The creature's response was instant.
A guttural, bass-heavy roar rolled from deep within its frame, shaking the air like a drum.
Its head whipped violently, thrashing side to side in an effort to dislodge the Knight-Centura.
Mira's grip held for a heartbeat longer before she finally let go, flipping backward into a crouched landing in the churned mud below.
Then—
BANG!
Kochav fired.
A psychic detonation erupted against the Vraskariin's leg.
The blast slammed the pale scales inward, pressing them deep against the underlying muscle. The flesh quivered under the impact, and for the first time, a small dent marred its otherwise impenetrable hide.
Kochav's lips curled, his voice carrying over the din of battle.
"If I can't pierce those scales of yours—" he shouted, moving with unbroken momentum.
"—I'll just keep punching until you drop dead!"
—
The revolver spun in his grip,
psychic flaring for the next round as his boots splashed through shallow pools of blood and ash, circling to the far side of the beast.
The Vraskariin reeled from the earlier blow, a low, resonant hum building again in its chest.
Its tail, long and ridged like a living whip, now cracking with electricity, shot lighting bolts at Kochav, then swung it again.
—
He ducked low, the tail scything through the space above his head with a hiss of sundered air, static floated over his head, preventing him from getting up.
BOOM!
Bark and splinters burst from a tree behind him as the strike carved into it, toppling the trunk in a slow, creaking fall.
Kochav proned and unflinched, didn't stop charging his round.
BANG!
Another psychic slug hammered the Vraskariin's leg, driving the dent deeper, a ripple of strain flashing through the muscles beneath its scales.
The creature's answer was immediate.
Its wings snapped wide, claws digging into the earth for leverage as both heat pits flared—
BOOM! BOOM!
Twin lances of lightning ripped through the air toward him, scorching jagged scars into the treeline.
Kochav rolled away and broke into a sprint, weaving between roots and splintered stumps, the crackling bolts chewing through cover just meters behind him.
—
He glanced forward.
Mira was moving to flank, so Kochav hurled his dagger across the gap.
She caught it mid-air without breaking stride, pivoted, and sent it spinning toward the Vraskariin's face.
The blade clanged off its head, snapping its focus toward her just long enough for Kochav to line up another psychic-charged shot.
His divination kicked in mid-aim—
"Shield. Now."
The words whispered in his ears at the same instant his eyes widened.
The warning pulled him from the shot; both hands shifted instantly, psychic force wrapping into a shimmering ward around them.
—
The Vraskariin's mane lit with a hellish red glow as it kept shooting.
Spines punched free along its back in a wet, rattling surge.
SWOOSH!
With a single, violent sweep of its wings, the beast sent a wall of air crashing into them, the shockwave slamming Kochav and Mira to the ground.
The creature dropped low, curling its vast frame beneath its wings until only its pale, faceless snout protruded from the living barricade.
POP! POP! POP!
—
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
The newly-grown spikes launched skyward from the spine in rapid succession, detonating mid-air.
A haze of crackling filaments rained down, the threads latching into the earth in wide arcs.
—
The moment they touched ground, the jungle floor became a deadly web, sparks raced along each line, weaving an electrified net that hissed and spat where it touched roots and undergrowth.
—
Their movement slowed to a crawl.
Each step was a careful drag, boots snagging in the snarl of electrified threads. The static snapped against Kochav's shield with sharp, needling jolts, each impact sending small shivers up his arm.
—
Then the first blast came.
BOOM—
The concussive wave slammed against his barrier, bright cracks spiderwebbing through the psychic field, the two of them bracing as another explosion rippled the ground.
BOOM—
The second blast hit lower, rattling their teeth and driving them back half a step.
The Vraskariin did not move. Its pale bulk stayed curled under its wings, every detonation measured, deliberate, another hammer-blow to grind them down.
The air reeked of scorched earth and ionized metal, threads still spitting arcs in the spaces between them.
BOOM—
The third hit made Kochav's barrier shudder violently, edges flickering.
The beast was content to simply lay there, forcing them to fight through the storm before it ever bothered to rise again.
—
Kochav's revolver barked twice—
BANG! BANG!
—rounds skittered harmlessly off the Vraskariin's folded wing plates.
He ground his teeth, swapped to a force barrage.
The psychic blast rolled over the beast like wind over a mountain.
Lightning fared no better, sparks crawling across its scales before sinking into the ground without so much as a flinch.
Mira's shock grenades tumbled into the mass of wings and bone.
CRACK!
The detonation fizzled against the heavy folds, making the beast shift… but only to pull its wings tighter, sealing itself away like a living bunker.
Every explosion, every concussive wave from the Vraskariin forced them back, anchoring boots scraping trenches into the dirt. They were being pushed further with every heartbeat.
—
Kochav stopped and let out a slow sigh.
The noise of battle thinned in his mind, mortar thumps, the snap of discharges, until all that remained was the measured pull of his own lungs.
Inhale—Exhale.
—
Even his heartbeat became a distant drum, steady and quiet beneath the crackle of the beast's spines. He tracked the rhythm, when they flared, when they launched, how the arcs scattered.
"Where is the opening?"
His eyes were closed now, the blue glow faint but growing behind his lids.
Each pulse from the Vraskariin painted an image in his mind: the flow of heat, the tension in its wing joints, the subtle delay when it released a volley.
The world narrowed to that one question, and he was patient enough to wait for the answer.
Then-
It dulled to a muffled hush. Every heartbeat stretched into an age, every movement slowed, suspended in a false calm.
"Look… at… us."
The whisper slid into his mind like a blade through silk, its presence heavy, suffocating.
—
Kochav's gaze dropped to the eye in his palm.
The cursed flesh burned beneath Bergelmir's ward, the searing heat sinking deep into muscle and bone.
But… something had changed. The hand no longer felt alien. It felt… known. His.
"Use....us."
A sudden certainty coiled in his mind—he knew exactly how to wield its power.
—
"Don't." A second voice broke in, sharper, protective. It sounded exactly like his own.
—
His teeth clenched. He shook his head hard, as if to clear smoke from his thoughts.
"Your tricks won't work on me, Daemon."
The words came out low, steady. Then his voice sharpened, cutting through the silence like a drawn blade:
"I am the master here. This is my body—my rules."
—
The whispers froze.
He flexed the cursed fingers slowly, feeling the alien joints glide and click in perfect sync with his will.
As they spread, curved planes of shimmering, ethereal energy bloomed over each claw—blades of ghostlight that phased in and out of reality with every slight shift of angle.
—
"This will do." He whispered softly,
the words meant for no one but himself.
—
When his eyes opened again, the world snapped back into motion.
Sound rushed in, the low drone of the Vraskariin's hum swelling once more, heat and ozone biting at the air. The ground trembled under the weight of its movements, and the battle resumed as if that suspended moment had never been.
Mira, on the far side of the Vraskariin, caught a glimpse of something unusual in the way Kochav moved. Her eyes lingered for a fraction longer than they should have, but this was not the time to pry. Shifted back to the beast.
"Take this." Kochav tossed his revolver toward Mira.
—
She caught it in one hand, flipping the cylinder open, four rounds left.
Her gaze snapped back to him, a silent question in her eyes.
"You'll know when to shoot," he called over the roar of the Vraskariin's pulsing spines.
—
The ground quivered with each blast against his shield, yet Kochav moved forward as if the weight pressing against him was nothing.
His stride was measured, eyes scanning the beast's massive frame before locking on the spines. The pattern was there, predictable.
"One… two…" he murmured,
tracking the rhythm as the jagged spikes launched skyward, each detonating in a burst of fire and static.
—
He raised the cursed hand, palm open, claws glinting faintly in the scattered light, aiming at the spine cluster just before the next volley.
"Now!"
A sudden surge of telekinetic force gripped the spikes mid-flight, reversing their momentum.
—
They slammed back into the Vraskariin's own spine with bone-cracking force.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
—then detonated.
A spray of dark, purple-tinged ichor erupted from the wounds, hissing where it hit the scorched ground.
The Vraskariin loosed a shriek that made the air vibrate, panic flashing through its massive frame as it rose to its full height.
Its abdomen split open, maw gaping wide, an opening.
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
Each round Mira fired punched through exposed flesh and sinew, tearing apart the writhing outer limbs. The Vraskariin's body convulsed, its entire frame shuddering.
She tried trying more shock grenades into the maw, but the beast closed it in time.
Then—
A sudden surge of electricity rippled across its hide, dancing along dark scales now slick with its own blood.
Lightning traced the contour of its massive skeleton beneath the flesh, every rib, every vertebra lit in stark, skeletal relief.
—
Smokes hissed from the open wounds torn across its body, thin grey ribbons curling upward from punctured muscle and torn scales. More heat bled from the creature's vents, the deep-set heat-pits, the flaring nostrils, even the horns.
Each plume was tinged faintly red from the glow within, a visual promise that the next attack would come with ruinous heat.
—
The arcs crackled outward, grounding into shattered roots and scorched earth, the air filling with the sharp, metallic tang of ozone.
Each jagged flash framed the monster in a ghostly afterimage, making it look less like a living creature and more like some colossal, skeletal revenant torn from the Warp.
Its shriek cut through the storm, low at first, then rising into a bone-scraping wail that made the trees themselves quiver.
—
The beast staggered, purple blood hissing as it splattered the dirt, but it did not fall.
Instead, its breath came faster, deeper and a low, resonant hum rolled out from its chest.
The plates of its scales darkened, then began to glow from within.
First, faint red lines traced along each ridge; then the color deepened to molten orange.
Heat rolled off its body in waves, thick enough to blur the air around it. The ground under its talons blackened, grass curling in on itself and catching fire.
—
Kochav felt it in his lungs before he even realized, each breath tasting of ash, his shield flickering under the oppressive thermal swell.
Mira staggered back a step, one arm shielding her face, the gold of her gauntlet dulling under the sudden onslaught.
Cracks formed in nearby trees, sap boiling inside before bursting in wet pops. Leaves curled, crisped, and fluttered away as embers.
The Vraskariin arched its back, spreading its wings wide.
The membrane shimmered like a forge's heart, every motion radiating more heat.
Flames began licking across the forest floor, racing in all directions.
—
The Vraskariin violently shuddered, claws gouging deep furrows into the earth as a searing wave of heat burst from its body.
The air wavered, blurring its outline as if reality itself was bending away. Beneath it, the soil blackened, then cracked, thin curls of smoke curling upward.
—
Its body began to change.
The dull, blunted snout straightened, sharpening into a wicked point like the tip of a dart.
Its ridged spine twisted unnaturally, vertebrae cracking into new shapes as jagged spikes erupted along its back in uneven rows, like a warped iguana.
Talons lengthened into hooked scythes, flexing with a wet, grinding scrape.
Its wings, once broad and sweeping, curled inward in a menacing arc, ready to slice as much as lift.
And its whiplash tail, once wild and flailing, now tightened into a long, pin-like spear, its muscle shifting under the skin like a serpent coiling to strike.
—
Kochav's eyes narrowed, the shimmering heat distorting the beast's outline.
"So… this is what supposed to come out of the cocoon?" he muttered,
voice dry but edged.
—
The heat bit through his coat, clinging to his skin until every breath felt heavy.
Beneath his boots, the outer layer of soil crumbled into brittle flakes, the ground's moisture burned away in seconds.
—
The Vraskariin stood poised, no longer the lumbering predator of moments before, but a weapon, its every movement precise and coiled. Its tail traced lazy arcs through the air, the sharp tip twitching in micro-adjustments, while its wings flexed once, shaking loose a flurry of glowing embers that died before touching the ground.
—
Its body pulsed, a steady rhythm like a forge bellows, each wave of heat rolling outward in concentric rings. The charred soil underfoot began to sag, the hardened surface softening into tar-black sludge.
Kochav's boots sank an inch before he realized what was happening.
"Shit—move!" he barked,
lunging sideways just as the spot where he'd stood caved in with a hiss, molten earth bubbling beneath.
The Vraskariin rushed forward, trying to stab him with its lance head, which it missed by a hair-length, suddenly stopped and breaking the momentum.
The beast's talons then raked the ground, the molten lines it carved didn't cool off, they spread, branching like cracks in glass until they formed a web of glowing seams across the battlefield. The air reeked of scorched minerals, each breath tasting faintly metallic.
Mira moved beside him, panting from her last leap. She signed quickly:
"It's changing the terrain."
—
"I noticed," Kochav shot back, eyes never leaving the predator.
The Vraskariin's wings flexed once, stirring the superheated air until the seams in the earth flared brighter.
From them rose jagged pillars of vitrified stone, still glowing faintly from the heat.
They jutted up at odd angles, cutting lines of sight, funneling them into narrow kill-lanes.
Kochav glanced at the shifting maze, his cursed hand tightening into a fist.
"Annoying bastard."
—
The creature moved again, this time not a direct charge, but a blur skirting along the edges of the molten web, its pin-tail and lance-head darting in and out of the new cover.
Each strike came from a different angle: one forcing them to dodge into the narrowing space, the next slicing across their escape route.
A spear of molten earth erupted just ahead of Mira's leap, forcing her to twist in mid-air and barely catch the edge of a stone pillar.
Kochav caught the heat from the impact a second later, the blast biting into his shield and sending shivers of strain down his arm.
—
The Vraskariin paused, poised atop one of its own molten spires like howling wolf under moonlight. The heat shimmer turned its outline into something almost unreal.
Kochav spat to the side, meeting its eyeless gaze.
"You're not the only one who can change the playground."
—
He dropped into a crouch and pressed the cursed hand to the scorched ground.
The burning sensation flared instantly up his arm, the ward biting into his flesh as he poured his will downward.
The earth bucked.
Stone ruptured in jagged slabs, spearing up from beneath in a violent wave that tore a direct path toward the Vraskariin.
The heat-haze shimmered between each strike of rock, the force of his telekinesis cracking the molten crust like thin ice.
For a heartbeat, it seemed he might pin it.
—
But the beast moved in a blur, legs coiling before it launched straight up into the air, wings snapping wide to catch the rising thermals.
It hovered there, unnatural for something its size, its curved pin-tail swaying like a poised blade, molten light glinting along its length.
A shrill, low-frequency hum rolled from its chest, and the molten seams below began to boil harder, bursts of flame flickering up through the cracks like the world itself was breathing fire.
—
The Vraskariin hung in the air, tail coiled like a striking serpent.
Then—
WHUMP!
Its wings snapped downward, not just to keep aloft, but to attack.
From the curved ridges along their spans, a volley of jagged, scale-like spikes erupted, trailing heat shimmer and molten flecks.
The air was filled with a sound like tearing metal as the spikes slammed into the ground,
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
each impact a miniature explosion that flung dirt and embers in all directions.
One hit a half-burnt trunk, and the whole tree went up in a column of fire.
Kochav dove behind a jut of stone he'd just raised, the cursed hand digging into the rock to hold it in place against the impacts.
Mira vaulted into the canopy, moving branch to branch as explosions followed her like a hunter's heartbeat.
The Vraskariin swung again, another WHUMP, and the second volley rained down,
this time aiming for where they'd be, not where they stood.
"Keep moving!" Kochav barked,
breaking cover just before a spike blew his shelter apart in a roar of molten debris.
Above them, the predator hovered like a living siege weapon, its tail twitching, ready for the killing strike.
—
The Vraskariin's body warped in the heat shimmer, its new, jagged silhouette slicing against the burning treeline.
The pointed snout dipped, the ridged spine flexing, and with a piercing screech, it lunged forward like a living spear.
Its wings snapped downward with brutal force, flinging a scatter of explosive spikes through the air like shrapnel.
The forest floor detonated in staggered bursts, dirt and flame billowing upward.
—
Kochav dived aside, shielding with one arm, but Mira was already moving, eyes tracking the glitter of a still-spinning spike.
In one smooth motion, she caught it mid-flight, the heat searing through her gauntlet.
Without hesitation, she pivoted into the Vraskariin's path, boots digging into the scorched earth.
—
The beast's shadow swallowed her as it bore down.
She leapt away.
For a breathless second she was running along the arc of its wing, boots finding impossible purchase between the ridged spines. The beast tried to bank away, but she drove another spike into the thinner joint of the wing's curve, where the membrane met the bone.
A wet, cracking sound erupted, the wing faltered, its beat collapsing mid-stroke.
The Vraskariin screamed, banking wildly and losing altitude, slamming through the burning canopy in a shower of embers.
Kochav's eyes narrowed.
"Grounded."
—
Kochav darted forward, boots tearing trenches in the scorched loam.
The beast's wings snapped outward, flinging a scatter of molten spikes through the air, pushing Mira away, but Kochav slipped between their arcs, eyes locked on the joint between scale and sinew.
He swung the cursed hand in a wide arc, psychic force flaring from the claws-
—
From his left, the Vraskariin's tail lashed like a whip.
SHIKK!
The point drove into his side with a brutal force, punching the air from his lungs and staggering him.
Mira's eyes widened, her momentum breaking for a heartbeat.
And then—
from his right—another strike.
The same pin-sharp tail blurred through the haze, thrusting straight into the cursed arm.
It phased through.
No resistance. No pain.
Kochav blinked, stunned.
"That's… unexpected."
—
Before the Vraskariin could recoil, his clawed hand snapped shut around the living spear, fingers locking with unnatural strength.
"My turn."
—
The daemon-born palm-eye flared, a shimmer of blue-violet force surging down his arm.
BOOM!
A muffled concussion tore the air.
The tail severed cleanly at the top, the ruined length twisting and spasming in his grip before going limp.
—
The severed tail hit the ground with a wet thud, steam hissing from the cauterized stump.
Kochav tossed the useless length toward Mira, his lips curling in a sharp grin.
—
From the opposite flank, Mira moved.
She sprang low, grabbed the severed tail, weaving through the Vraskariin's shifting shadows until she was at its abdomen.
Her golden fist shimmered faintly as she drove it into the space between the closed maw.
SHIKKK!
Bone cracked. Flesh split. A spray of hot, acrid blood painted her gauntlet, and the beast lurched, a guttural screech tearing from its fanged maw now jammed with its own severed tail.
It recoiled a step—then went still.
Its wings stretched wide, the membrane trembling, then slammed down into the dirt with a thunderous crack.
The ground beneath them convulsed. Embedded spikes—those that had been scattered in earlier volleys—erupted in synchronized detonations, a violent chain of concussive blasts radiating outward.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Shrapnel and incandescent fragments ripped through the air.
—
Kochav's shield flickered under the impacts, hot shards biting through gaps in its coverage.
Mira staggered back, breath knocked from her, her cheek seared by a passing ember.
The Vraskariin's wings tore free from the ground, ragged and bleeding where the explosions had mangled the membrane.
Thick rivulets of blood traced down the pale expanse, dripping into the scorched earth as the beast let out a low, grasping hiss.
—
Kochav's eyes tracked the pale giant as it drew itself upright, bleeding from its abdomen and torn wings.
He reached out with a flicker of will, the dagger, half-buried somewhere in the blackened loam, shimmered and blurred before phasing into his right hand.
Steel in one, claws in the other. He surged forward, weaving through the beast's swaying reach until he was at its head.
The cursed hand raked across its face, claws gouging deep furrows into the chitinous ridges, tearing pale flesh apart in long, wet strips.
The Vraskariin shrieked, head thrashing, but Kochav drove the dagger into the molten glow of its heat-pit, twisting hard until the blade bit deep.
—
The creature convulsed. With a violent lurch of its neck and shoulders, it spread its battered wings and launched skyward.
Kochav clung to its face, his grip locked in the gouges he'd carved, the heat from the plugged pit scorching his knuckles through the hilt.
The jungle fell away beneath them, the canopy splitting as the Vraskariin's shadow passed over burning trees.
—
Far away,
in the smoke-wreathed clearing, Rouar glanced up from his position.
Shadowgaze knelt nearby, her hands pressed to the dying great tree's scorched bark, coaxing life back into it with slow, deliberate care.
Helsin stood over the inert bulk of Bergelmir, the Grey Knight still locked in suspended animation.
Rouar's ears twitched. His eyes narrowed, following a shadow cutting against the glow of the canopy fires.
"The Mon'keigh is… flying, my lady."
Shadowgaze froze mid-gesture. Helsin's head turned.
All of them looked up.
And in perfect unison, as the sight sank in—Kochav, clinging to the face of the Vraskariin as it clawed the air—they muttered:
"…What is that idiot doing?"
—
High above the burning canopy, Kochav's voice cut through the wind.
"Mira! Little help!"
—
Mira's gaze flicked upward, locking on him for the briefest moment.
Her hand moved in a blur, dipping into her belt and pulling free a single shock grenade.
She yanked the pin with a sharp twist and hurled it skyward.
The grenade spun end over end… before stalling and beginning to fall short.
Kochav caught the glint in the corner of his vision. He released his dagger, letting it tumble into the smoke below.
His left hand snapped downward, telekinetic force hooking the falling grenade mid-air.
In one smooth motion, he rammed it deep into the Vraskariin's heat-pits.
BOOM!
The explosion was contained within, the beast shrieked, a guttural, tearing sound that rattled Kochav's teeth. Its massive head thrashed violently, wings beating the air into a chaotic cyclone.
Then it tucked its limbs, plummeting toward the forest floor with bone-jarring force.
Kochav still clinging stubbornly to its face.
—
From the clearing, Ruk'tan's slitted eyes followed the spiraling descent.
"Now… he is going down," the Kroot said flatly.
The entire group exhaled in unison, some shaking their heads.
—
The impact blasted through the clearing like a detonation.
Splintered bark and burning embers fountained into the night as the charred tree collapsed under the Vraskariin's weight.
The force of the crash tore Kochav free, flinging him across the ground in a tumbling blur. His back slammed into the dirt, the breath knocked from his lungs in a ragged gasp.
Before the ringing in his ears could fade, a shadow cut across his vision.
Mira was already there, closing the distance in a dead sprint.
She caught him under the arm and drove her shoulder into his ribs, shoving him upright with a forceful lift.
The ground still trembled under the Vraskariin's shifting bulk, its skeletal frame silhouetted in the firelight as it began to rise again.
—
Kochav steadied himself on Mira's shoulder, breath ragged, eyes locked on the shifting silhouette ahead.
"Sangius Ferrum," he said, voice low but firm.
—
Mira didn't hesitate. She pressed the weight of the revolver into his palm, the metal still warm from her grip.
Kochav's cursed hand flexed, claws curling as something unnatural shifted beneath the scaled surface.
With a slow, deliberate motion, a barrel of alien make and iridescent sheen slid forth from the top of his hand, locking into place above the talons like some grotesque fusion of flesh and weapon.
Now,
with both barrels aimed forward, the revolver gripped firm in his cursed hand, the alien barrel jutting from above it.
Kochav began to gather power.
—
Psychic energy coiled between them, two channels of force converging in a single grip: one a steady, cerulean blaze of his own making, the other… something else entirely, dark purple, twisting, and ancient.
Both lights pulsed in unison, growing faster, sharper, until the air around him shivered under the strain. He was forging two psychic rounds at once, his left-handed grip steady as if the weight of both powers belonged there all along.
—
The Vraskariin's talons dug furrows into the scorched dirt as it tried to rise, its massive frame twisting to break free. Instinct screamed at it to flee, the heat-pits along its skull flaring in panic.
But before it could launch into the air, Mira was there.
—
She slammed into its neck from the flank, her entire frame a silent, unyielding weight.
Boots dug deep into the ground as she locked her arms under the thick ridge of its throat, the cords of muscle in her shoulders tightening.
The beast's claws raked furrows into the ground, wings spasming against the dirt, but her grip didn't loosen.
Kochav's eyes narrowed, the two rounds in his cursed hand almost ready.
—
Mira didn't waste a breath.
While she held the Vraskariin's neck pinned, she used one of her hands to pulled a shock bomb from her belt.
She slapped it against the base of its skull, the clamps biting into scale with a sharp clack.
A faint blue light pulsed where it sat—target locked.
—
Kochav glanced at her work, then raised both barrels.
Psychic force churned between them, two distinct currents, one deep cerulean, the other an alien, writhing shade of purple.
The air shimmered with the pressure, the ground trembling under his boots.
The beast thrashed against Mira's grip, talons gouging the dirt, but she didn't move.
Her gaze stayed locked on Kochav, silent.
—
He exhaled, eyes narrowing on the pulsing bomb.
"I'll make this quick," he said, voice flat, the faintest edge of a smirk tugging at his lips.
"For me."
—
BOOM!
He squeezed both triggers. Twin psychic lances erupted, converging on the bomb.
The shock detonated with a CRACK that split the night, ripping through muscle, sinew, and bone.
The Vraskariin's neck was nearly gone before its body even knew it was dead.
The colossal body sagged, then fell like a fallen tower.
It hit the earth with a thunderous WHUMP and unmoving, its neck blasted open, though the top half still clung by a stubborn strand of muscle and bone.
—
Mira's gauntlets still crackled with residual electricity, the arcs dancing for long seconds before fading.
She exhaled, slow and heavy, then let her weight fall back against the trunk of a dead tree.
The brittle charcoal bark crumbled at the touch, dusting her shoulder in black flakes.
—
Kochav stepped forward, his eyes fixed on the limp carcass. A psychic blade flared into existence in his left hand, its edge humming in the night.
One clean motion,
SHHHK!
and the last of the neck's sinew gave way. The Vraskariin's head rolled free into the dirt.
Without hesitation, he raised his right hand to the cursed forearm. Fingers gripped flesh and unnatural scale alike.
A sickening, wet crunch split the air as he ripped it from himself. The warped limb hit the ground with a dull thud, then slowly began to burn from within, the flames silent but hungry.
The heat consumed it entirely, leaving only a smear of drifting ash.
—
Kochav lingered, his gaze locked on the cursed eye as it dimmed in its death throes. It seemed to move, menacingly, though its whisper was now lost, inaudible beneath the hush of the cooling battlefield.
From the side, Mira shifted against the charred tree, her eyes never leaving him.
Slowly, she lifted her hands.
"When. Cursed?"
—
Kochav's eyes flicked toward her, his expression unreadable.
"I don't know," he said flatly, rolling his shoulder as if to shake off the weight of the moment.
"Maybe since I was born, apparently."
—
Back at the clearing,
the towering shape of the dying great tree loomed over Shadowgaze as she worked, her hands weaving slow, deliberate motions of restoration into its scorched bark.
Helsin still stood over Bergelmir's unmoving form, the Grey Knight resting in the quiet rigidity of suspended animation.
The ground began to crunch under heavy, dragging steps.
—
From the treeline, Kochav and Mira emerged, dragging the Vraskariin's severed head by its horns. The colossal trophy gouged a deep trail in the dirt, pale scales dulled with blood and ash.
They stopped just short of the group, the beast's eyeless snout fixed toward them.
No one spoke for a moment. The smell of burnt flesh and ozone clung to the air.
Finally, Rouar tilted his head, voice dry.
"Well… that's one way to make an entrance."
—
Helsin glanced at Kochav, then at the massive head, and let out a slow, tired breath.
"Took you long enough."
—
Kochav let go of beast's head, the ground trembled under its weight.
"Oh, sorry," he drawled, brushing dirt from his shoulder,
"We had quite an argument about how best to separate his head."
—
His smirk faded as his gaze slid past Helsin, locking onto Bergelmir's armored bulk.
"What happened?" he asked, voice low and measured now.
—
The question hung in the air, his eyes narrowing on the Grey Knight's still form, the blue glow in its lenses dimmed to nothing.
"Xarcarions," Helsin answered flatly.
—
Kochav's brows knit. "Is he—"
—
"No," Helsin cut him off, tone firm.
"He is in stasis… for now."
—
Kochav sighed, his expression unreadable, then turned his head toward Shadowgaze.
She caught the movement, glanced over her shoulder, then turned fully to face him.
"I see you brought your trophy," she said,
her voice a careful balance of dry humor and appraisal.
—
Kochav said nothing.
—
"You're lucky the Woodsway is still intact," she continued, the humor fading.
"But we have to leave. Now."
—
She stepped to the smoldering great tree, pressing a hand to its scorched bark.
Leaning close, she whispered something in a tongue too soft to catch.
The tree shuddered faintly. Charred plates of bark shifted, curling aside as if on invisible hinges, revealing a dark, yawning tunnel within.
Helsin's eyes narrowed as the cool, earthen air spilled out.
"So this is how you were moving about," he muttered.
—
Shadowgaze only nodded once, her gaze fixed on the passageway, the faint glow from within casting strange shapes across her face.
"Which you stupidly burnt three of them down," she said flatly.
—
Helsin just tapped his temple twice in a wordless gesture, the corner of his mouth twitching faintly.
Without another word, he turned and raised a hand toward the line of beastmen, calling one of them over with a short, sharp motion.
—
"Take the remaining troops back north," Helsin ordered, his tone leaving no room for question.
"Assemble all warbands and wait for command."
—
The beastman gave a sharp, wordless bow. "Yes, Messenger."
—
As he turned to leave, his eyes flicked toward the severed head of the Vraskariin.
His nostrils flared once, the faintest hint of a growl curling in his throat before he moved off at a brisk pace, scales and armor catching the firelight.
—
Kochav's gaze followed him—then drifted over the rest of the beastmen. Every single one of them was watching him and Mira, their stares drawn not to the pair themselves, but to the monstrous head they'd dragged in.
His brows pulled together.
"Why are they so interested in the head?" he asked, his voice low, almost wary.
—
Shadowgaze turned to him, her expression as unreadable as the night forest around them.
"Because you, Mon'keigh, killed the Vraskariin—the apex predator." Her tone was even,
but there was a weight behind it.
"That makes you an Apex yourself… you and the warlock-hunter."
—
Her eyes shifted, sharp and deliberate, to Mira.
"And how does that benefit us?" Kochav asked, brow arched.
—
"The title you've just earned, 'Apex' means you are the strongest," Shadowgaze replied, voice carrying a faint edge of amusement.
"Need I say more?"
—
"So they'll obey me as well?" Kochav muttered, half testing the idea aloud.
Shadowgaze simply tilted her head once.
"I don't know, you should ask your friend."
All of them then shifted to Helsin.
—
Helsin just nodded and said, "You should go with them—and Mira."
—
"What about you?" Kochav asked.
—
"I have to tend to Bergelmir," Helsin replied flatly.
"And trekking back north while moving an Astartes in a coma isn't exactly the best idea."
—
He paused, then added, "I will have to intrude into your domain, Red Queen."
His gaze shifted to Shadowgaze.
—
Shadowgaze said, "Switching one talkative Mon'kiegh out for a more reasonable one?"
She mused, eyes fixed on Kochav.
"Who wouldn't?"
—
Kochav only gave her a flat glare in return, tilted his head back to Helsin.
"Did you kidnap a Xarcarion soldier? One in red."
—
Helsin's brows lifted slightly. "Yes. How did you know?"
—
"Well," Kochav said, voice dry,
"we also took his squadmates."
He paused a beat, then added,
"So you have a working vox back there, then?"
—
Helsin gave a single nod.
—
"Right," Kochav continued,
"we've got a unit stashed in the Underwoods. We'll use it to communicate."
—
The beastman returned, fist pressed to his chest.
"We are ready, my lord."
—
Helsin gave a short nod, then gestured toward Kochav.
"He will accompany you and the queen back," he said evenly.
"I'll remain with the Red Queen and discuss our alliance."
—
The beastman bowed in obedience, then turned his heavy gaze to Kochav.
"Follow me, Apex."
His eyes shifted from Kochav to Mira. "My Queen."
—
Kochav gave Helsin a final look over his shoulder and said his final words.
"See you later then."
—
Without waiting for a reply, he turned and fell in step with the beastmen warband, Mira silent at his side.
Helsin simply nodded before moving to Bergelmir's side, helping the Kroot and Felinids lift the massive armored form onto a makeshift stretcher.
Shadowgaze stepped toward the yawning tunnel within the tree's bark, its interior aglow with dim light.
She glanced back once, then vanished inside.
Helsin followed her in, the stretcher-bearers close behind.
—
For a moment, the two departing parties exchanged glances across the clearing, a brief, wordless acknowledgement, before vanishing into their respective paths, the jungle and the Woodsway swallowing them whole.
—
Back at the Xarcarion planetary command, Ivory One.
The command chamber was a cold expanse of polished metal and lumens, by the door stood the Ivory Guards, their stance a statue.
Tactical hololiths hovered over the center table, casting pale light across armored figures.
Reyvis slammed his fist onto the desk, the dataslate before him rattling from the impact.
"So the mercenary failed."
—
"Yes, Commissar," the attending officer replied, his posture stiff, eyes fixed forward.
"No report has been made. Conclusion-" officer's tone was clipped, cold,
"the mercenaries have been wiped out."
—
The words hung in the air like a death sentence, the low hum of the hololiths the only sound in the chamber.
"Command all troops to return," Reyvis ordered, voice like iron.
"We begin Phase Two."
—
The officer snapped a nod, turned on his heel, and left without another word.
Reyvis remained still, his gaze locked on the tactical map. Red icons pulsed like open wounds across the terrain, and his jaw tightened.
—
Back at the ambush site,
the jungle was gone, reduced to churned earth and blackened stumps by Bergelmir's psychic wrath. Smoke drifted in slow, lazy curls through the ruin.
In the center of the devastation lay Jaeger.
Most of his body was simply gone, burned, blasted, erased.
Only a head and half a torso remained, scorched flesh fused to shattered cloths and melted armor. His breaths came shallow, each one weaker than the last, a wet rattle in his throat.
The scope of his ruined Exitus rifle lay beside him, its glass cracked, reflecting a fragment of moonlight onto his sightless eyes.
—
A memory.
Faint, hazy, but sharp where it mattered.
He was small again. The air smelled of dust and oil.
A man knelt before him, face obscured by shadow, only the sharp lines of a clean, black uniform catching the light.
The man's fist was bleeding. He rested it against the boy's chest, the blood warm even through the thin fabric.
"You will be the perfect instrument," the man murmured, his voice low, final.
"Shape yourself, and kill her."
—
The memory bled away, replaced by the taste of copper in his mouth.
Jaeger exhaled, long, slow, grasping for air that no longer wanted to come.
A faint scowl tightened his burned features.
"'Instrument'…" he rasped, voice ragged and low.
"Only if I can kill them all."
—
The words scraped out like broken glass, half a snarl, half a promise, before his gaze unfocused and the last of his breath slipped away.
Then,
close—too close, a voice pressed into his skull, low and resonant, vibrating in the bones rather than the air.
"What if… I could give you another chance?"
—
It wasn't a whisper so much as the weight of molten iron poured into his mind.
"What do I have to do?" he asked.
No hesitation. No bargaining. Just the blunt calculation of a man who had already decided damnation was better than dying here.
—
The voice curled through his skull, slow and savoring.
"First… give me blood."
—
A cold pressure gripped his chest, then the ruin of his body began to knit itself back together. Torn muscle crawled over shattered bone, skin dragging itself closed in raw, red sheets.
Jaeger's back arched, a strangled cough tearing from his throat before it broke into a scream. The pain was pure and blinding, every nerve forced to feel every second of the rebuilding.
When the last shudder passed, he was sitting upright, panting. His gaze dropped to his hands, whole again, but faintly steaming, the skin pale and too smooth, as if freshly made.
Then, groaning sounds.
Not his own, but others. The voices of his men, ragged and strained, each syllable stabbing through his skull like a nail.
—
He staggered toward the sound, boots squelching in churned mud and blood, until he found one of them pinned beneath a fallen tree.
The man's uniform was soaked dark, his breaths shallow and bubbling.
The soldier's eyes went wide at the sight of him, a spark of desperate hope flickering there.
"Captain! You're alive!"
—
Jaeger's gaze stayed flat, unreadable, as he looked down at the man.
The soldier's eyes widened again—this time not in hope, but in dawning terror.
—
Something in Jaeger's gaze was no longer human, no longer his captain.
The voice coiled inside Jaeger's skull, its hunger seeping into every nerve.
"Now… give me skulls."
—
The man's trembling lips tried to form a plea-
Then came the scream. A wet, splintering crack.
Silence followed, heavy and absolute.
—
In the rippling reflection of the blood pooling beneath him, Jaeger's form had changed.
Restored flesh now gleamed a dark, sickly crimson, his shoulders crowned with jagged bone-like spikes. The scene bled to black with a final, exultant whisper—
"Blood for the Blood God. Skulls for the Skull Throne."