Ravens of Eternity

Chapter 153

153 The Flow of Blood, Pt Out in the broken and breached barricade, a small pile of dead Drogar suddenly moved. The topmost corpse fell off the pile, which revealed a barely living one among the rest of the bodies. His armored hand clutched at something – a corpse perhaps – and dragged himself out of the bloody pile. As he wearily climbed out, blood trickled down onto him from the corpses above.

The surviving Chosen pulled himself all the way out of the pile, then stood up on shaky legs. His armor had been sliced and mangled and beaten in many spots and barely held together.

He quickly reached for his side as it ached with pain. He had been slashed deeply, and was bleeding heavily just above his left hip. Every movement he made caused pain to shoot out of it.

As he recovered, he looked around the field of battle before him.

There was the breached barrier, the wreckages of the seven crashed gondolas, and the pools of blood, bone, and muscle underneath them. All around were the bodies of those who were killed by blades or bullets. Their armor, like his, had been cut to pieces.

The Chosen found many of his friends strewn about and lifeless all around him. Their blood, along with his, coated everything. Himself included.

Grief filled him immediately. A deep kind of grief – the type that doesn’t tend to let go.

He forced himself to look further down the street, at the broken gate and mangled wall. Beyond it was the place they were all supposed to go, where they would kill the apes.

And for whatever reason, he suddenly questioned why he was even there. What the point of it all was.

.....

As the sounds of combat beyond the gates began to fill his ears, he took a step back. He wanted to get away from all that, and wished deeply that he was never there in the first place.

Without a second thought, the terrorist spun around and ran through the gap and out to the main thoroughfare.

But before he could even take more than three steps, a beam shot right through him from above. It cut him in half and scorched the road underneath him. The terrorist’s two halves fell down and rejoined the corpses for a second time.

“Nice shot, Lieutenant,” said Swarmfather Retholis.

He stood at the prow of a heavy military gondola, where a number of beam snipers were perched around the edges. They were accompanied by dozens more heavy military gondola, each one manned with multiple heavy weapons emplacements and snipers.

The middle of each gondola was filled with column after column of Imperial Shock Infantry.

Their thick curved armor resembled segmented chitin made of rough blackened iron. Their impenetrability looked as daunting as their flexibility. And in their hands were long-bladed glaives, which they gripped tightly with anticipation.

Retholis himself wore power armor, but it wasn’t nearly as imposing. Instead, it was far more officious and regal. Its sharp, aggressive lines were indicative of Imperial officers. Sheathed on his waist was his beltknife.

Retholis grimaced as they sped towards the compound.

There, the dead were littered everywhere. The corpses of both Drogar and human could be found no matter where one looked. Each and every one had been cut or beaten or shot to death, some to the point where they were no longer recognizable.

Pockets of fighting could still be heard here and there, and though less intense, was clearly still heavy.

One of the terrorists, bloody and bruised, glared at the Federation combatant he was currently choking with one hand.

He brought his sidearm up to the human’s temple, squeezed the trigger, and blew chunks of his head clean off with a BLAM. As he discarded the corpse off to the side, he squared his aim on a Guard groaning in pain at his feet.

Then fired a second time.

Joy immediately filled the terrorist, but he didn’t get to enjoy it for too long. A long blade slashed right through him, and cut him diagonally in half. It took him a moment to even realize that he had been attacked, and died with a look of surprise etched on his face.

As his two halves slid from each other and fell down dead, Severas continued her dance and slew another Chosen terrorist with her long Justicar’s blade. She wove through her opponents with ease and seemingly cut them down with mere gazes.

Not far from her was Doleth, who had since recovered and rejoined the battle. Though her movements were stiffer than normal, she was able to retain the powerful grace of her dance. Her blade swept through her opponents with fury and speed.

Eva was also in the midst of her dance, and with her two blades, cut down one Chosen after another. She felt hate and pity and guilt and sorrow at everything that was happening around her. She wished that she didn’t have to dance, but knew she had to.

Miko was also running in the middle of them, but around floating around were two antigrav shields, each one carried by one of her cottonball drones. She also had her antigrav buckler closer to herself, just in case.

All four were breathing hard and heavy, but perhaps Miko’s breathing was the most labored. She was practically panting as she ran. Sweat fell from her forehead like a torrent.

A number of terrorists popped out from behind a rickety fortification and fired their rifles at Severas as she danced.

One of the drones carrying a shield quickly zipped over to protect the Justicar, and captured more than half of the terrorists’ bullets. Severas’ dance proved to be enough to evade the rest.

Miko waved her baton at the shield and had it repulse the bullets back at whoever shot them – they were immediately showered by their own ammunition and torn to pieces.

The four of them swept through enemy lines and decimated them with grace and precision, but not without suffering any injuries doing so – all four of them were worse for the wear.

Miko had suffered a number of cuts and bruises, thanks to not having any armor at all. Though she wasn’t directly attacked, the splinters and shrapnel that flew around the battlefield was more than enough to bite into her. The other three had a number of slashes and punctures in their armor, the two Justicars more so than Eva.

Regardless, blood trickled out of all their wounds. All were breathing heavily and were incredibly tired from their efforts. But they pushed themselves forward and cut their enemies down as best they could.

For the lives of their people, their friends, and everyone around them.

Miko stumbled as she ran, a momentary lapse of concentration, and fell face-first into the dirt with a soft TUMF. The wind was knocked out of her, and she groaned as dizziness racked her mind.

And as she tried to push herself back up, she realized just how rapidly her own heart was beating, and how rough her own breathing was. Her arms trembled as she tried to steady herself, but fell back down in frustration.

Exhaustion had finally caught up to Miko, and she was all but helpless.

Unlike Eva, who honed her physical body every cycle, Miko honed her mind. It simply didn’t occur to her that she would get so tired so easily. She realized the error in her thinking and resolved to do more physical exercises in the future.

Not that it helped her that very moment. She heard a distant voice yell for her, but felt it was close at the same time.

“Miko!” Eva yelled.

Eva quickly cut down the terrorist in front of her, then leapt back over to Miko’s side in the blink of an eye. She stuck her blades in the ground, then rolled her friend over on her back.

She was clearly hyperventilating – her breaths were short and rapid. To her, it felt like she was glitching.

“You’re outta stamina, so breathe deep,” Eva told her. “You’ll be fine. Draw in slowly, exhale evenly. You probably have a small stamina pool and low stamina regen, but you’ll get back enough to move in no time.”

Miko nodded, then tried to switch her breathing. It took her time, but eventually was able to slow her breathing down and restore her stamina properly.

Severas, Doleth, and the two drones and their shields fell back to Miko’s side as well, concerned for her safety.

“Raijin!” cried Doleth. “Are you hurt? Should we fall back to the clinic?”

“No,” replied Eva. “She’s just out of energy.”

Severas looked up and out around them, and noticed a number of Chosen encircling them.

“Stay alert,” she said. “We’re kind of out in the open.”

The two Justicars spun around protectively and kept an eye out all around. Doleth also noticed a number of terrorists eyeing them from the shadows. She drew her sidearm out and fired in their direction.

“We need to get into cover,” she urged.

The two drones spun around the group of them slowly as well, in anticipation of any attack, from any angle.

“She needs a minute to recover,” said Eva, “no, less than that... thirty seconds. Enough time to get the stamina to move.”

“I don’t think we’ve got the luxury of time,” countered Severas.

Rifle barrels began to appear from the shadows, each one trained on all of them. Some trained their rifles specifically on Ra’ventrii, their most hated of all humans. They all imagined their bullets peppering her from all sides, tearing her apart.

Alarm shot through Eva as she felt multiple weapons pointed at her. Tiamat’s Transcendence tugged at her, demanded that she stepped out of the way. It was practically screaming in her mind to move.

But she couldn’t.

She fought it off with every fiber of her being, and trembled as she sought to retain control of her own body, of her own instinct. If she did, she would have left Miko defenseless. And if she picked her up, Miko would’ve automatically been their target as well. They both would’ve been torn to shreds.

So she threw herself over her friend to shield her from the worst, and hoped Szereth’s armor was up to the task.

Dread filled her as she felt the terrorists’ fingers curl around their triggers and began to squeeze them.

But instead of the sound of dozens of rifles firing, she heard the familiar heavy BUZZ of a beam rifle. And when Eva looked up, she saw dozens and dozens of beams falling down and cutting unseen enemies to pieces.

She quickly hopped up and drew her blades from out of the ground, just in case.

Up above, Retholis’ gondolas had finally reached the fighting. His beam snipers cut down Chosen by the dozens.

The Swarmfather’s voice boomed across the courtyard, amplified by an armored ultraVox drone floating in front of him. His voice was harsh and stern, but also cold and even.

“To the terrorists who call themselves Taloren’s Chosen,” he said. “This is Swarmfather Retholis, Commander of the Drogar Empire’s Third Defensive Fleet. You are all in violation of multiple ordinances and mandates.

“Cease hostilities and submit immediately. Doing so will guarantee that your death will not happen this cycle. Any other choice will lead to your immediate execution.”

As he spoke, the multitudes of armored shock troopers dropped down to the bloodied courtyard below. Each one landed down with a THOOM, and shook the ground with tremendous force.

With their deadly glaives in hand, they tromped towards the terrorists with speed.

Many of the Chosen were immediately filled with dread at the sight of the monstrosities in heavy military power armor running at them. They dropped their weapons and fell to their knees in total submission, and begged for their lives.

Those who didn’t were summarily executed with their vicious glaives.

Eva watched with awe at the sheer efficiency of the soldiers’ brutality, and was glad she didn’t have to fight against them. They were like machines made for death, and every movement they made proved that truth further.

She turned towards Miko, checked to see if she was okay, then gave her a thumbs up.

Miko returned a thumbs up of her own, along with a sigh of relief.

Retholis’ soldiers didn’t even flinch when they were shot or stabbed, regardless if they penetrated or not. Instead, they pushed forward completely unaffected, and cut down their enemies with exacting precision.

Their glaives tore through armor and flesh with equal ease.

The Chosen might have been able to match up against a few hundred guards, but against a battle-hardened military unit? They stood no chance at all.

The terrorists who chose to never give up were cut down with military efficiency. Even until the end they believed that they were right, and that they had the ability to overturn the world with their might.

Or perhaps they chose to die with those lies rather than live with the truth.

.....