Chapter 16: Courage
Everything happened in an instant.
Nathan Doom's expression remained frozen in astonishment.
The Iron Men shed their optical camouflage as if torn from reality itself. Their ranks materialized in perfect formation, sealing every avenue of escape. Explosive shells detonated across their armored bodies, shattering outer plating and scattering fragments — yet Doom himself remained untouched within their protective perimeter.
But it was not enough.
Not nearly enough.
Yuki burst through the storm of fire like a falling comet.
Since arriving in this world, she had never relied on anything beyond the twin longswords at her side — not because she disdained other weapons, but because she needed none.
She was the projectile.
The fastest.
The most lethal.
Iron Men attempting to block her advance shattered like brittle masonry beneath impossible force. She did not slow; she did not pause. She simply ran — and anything before her ceased to exist.
Enemy units disintegrated under blade, fist, and raw momentum. Within seconds she was meters from Doom. He could smell the hot metallic tang of blood carried on the wind of her passage.
"Stop her! STOP HER!"
Composure shattered.
Doom screamed.
Seconds. Just seconds more. His teleportation apparatus needed only moments to complete its cycle. If he escaped, he could rebuild. Empires could be remade.
Lives could not.
Too late.
He had misjudged her strength.
Worse — he had misjudged her resolve.
Bullets hammered into her armor. Lightning erupted around her body, arcs of psychic discharge vaporizing machines in cascading bursts of white fire. She crashed through the last defensive ring.
Her hand seized Doom's face.
She slammed his skull into his chestplate.
He went limp.
Unconscious.
Loss of Control
With Doom incapacitated, the Iron Men lost centralized command authority.
Their final directive remained:
Protect the master.
The master was now in enemy hands.
The response was immediate.
Recover him at all costs.
Yuki hurled the unconscious man behind her.
"Do not let him wake."
Then she turned and plunged back into the mechanical tide.
The Last Stand
Usotan gritted his teeth as waves of Iron Men surged forward.
Their coordination was flawless. Their firing solutions precise. They advanced in optimal formations, absorbing losses while maintaining pressure.
These were the machines that had once brought humanity to the brink of extinction.
Now they unleashed that same efficiency here.
Lightning flashed again across the battlefield.
"Usotan!" Yuki shouted. "Clear the interior! Activate prepared defenses! Send fifty to the main gate — the rest hold this position!"
She charged toward the breach.
Doom had prepared for psychic assault. As Yuki unleashed another surge of warp-lightning, its intensity diminished near the perimeter — dissipated by unseen countermeasures.
"Damn it," she growled.
She was no Magnus.
No Malcador.
Denied the storm, she became the blade.
Walls of Fire
Thunder Warriors manned the city walls, autocannons roaring as they tore into advancing machine ranks.
Below, Yuki held the gate alone, carving through every enemy that forced entry.
Usotan watched, fury burning in his eyes.
His Highness fought against an ocean of metal —
while they, the Emperor's greatest weapons, could only hold the line.
But the order was absolute.
Victory did not depend on killing three hundred thousand Iron Men.
That was impossible.
Victory depended on the fall of the capital.
All they could do was survive.
The Capital Assault
Hundreds of kilometers away, the capital of the Pacific Rim Directorate burned.
Gunfire and artillery composed a symphony of annihilation.
"Forward!" Irigos roared. "Advance!"
Thunder Warriors and Astartes surged through storms of fire. One fell — another stepped over the body.
"Back, recruits!" the Thunder Warriors barked, taking the forward positions where death was thickest.
They advanced not for ground — but for time.
Time measured in the life of their Prince.
Fighter craft screamed overhead, dropping ordnance into defensive concentrations before spiraling down in flames under anti-air fire.
"Destroy that turret!" Ilio roared.
The emplacement raked the skies with lethal precision, protected by a shimmering void shield.
A nightmare barrier.
"Sir," an Astartes recruit shouted through the barrage, "I can destroy it."
Ilio stared at him.
"You intend to die. Denied."
The young warrior did not move.
Ilio understood.
"Your name, warrior."
"Anglenia. First Legion Astartes."
Ilio straightened.
"Anglenia… the Legion salutes you."
He turned and roared:
"Cover him! Get him through! COVER HIM!"
Anglenia ran.
No concealment.
No hesitation.
Shrapnel tore through his arm. Bolts pierced his torso. Still he ran.
Ilio found himself praying — to the Emperor, to fate, to anything that would listen.
Then the shell landed.
The blast hurled Anglenia to the ground.
"No!" Ilio surged forward — but an Astartes seized him.
"Trust him."
The recruit rose.
One arm gone. Half his torso ruined.
Still he ran.
"For the Emperor!"
With his final strength, he plunged into the void shield perimeter and slammed explosives against the emplacement.
The world erupted.
"CHARGE!" Ilio roared, voice like a war god unleashed.
With the turret destroyed, the defensive line collapsed. Imperial forces surged forward into the capital.
Eleven Hours
Yuki no longer perceived time.
Only motion.
Only destruction.
Bullets grazed her flesh. Blades pierced her body. Armor split. Blood flowed freely. Her wings were crimson, her white hair matted dark with gore.
Her swords shattered long ago.
Now she fought with bare hands.
Rending.
Crushing.
Breaking.
Usotan and the survivors descended to fight beside her. Ammunition gone, they chose to die with her rather than retreat.
Then—
the tide stopped.
The Iron Men froze.
Power severed.
Command lost.
Silence fell.
Yuki collapsed to her knees.
Metal fragments lay piled like hills around her.
"Usotan… alive?"
"I am, Your Highness," he rasped, crawling to her side.
"How many?"
"One hundred and thirty remain… because of you."
"How long?"
"Eleven hours."
She lifted her head.
The red sun sank through Terra's polluted sky, its dying light falling like drops of blood through yellow haze.
She spread her arms toward the sky—
and released a hoarse, broken scream.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAH—!"