The gates groaned open at their approach. Throughout the whole trip, Cole had kept an eye on Gadron’s reflection in the mirror. And hell, watching him breathe was like seeing a robot following a field manual on human respiration. Inhale, hold, exhale, all tid like a trono – like he was forcing himself to do it. Even his blinking had that sa chanical bullshit going on.
He’d seen a lot of different reactions to combat stress, but none of them ca close to this.
A dical team stood waiting by the gate as they pulled up to a stop. One of them stepped forward to et Dalen.
“Sergeant Dalen,” the lead dic called out, “any injuries?”
Dalen shook his head, nodding toward Elina. “The Slayer healer rendered her aid. Best to have them seen again, though.”
The dics moved to help Vanner and Tellis down from the shuttle, offering them potions to recover their energy and stamina. Both n were steady enough on their feet, but looked ready to sleep for a day.
One of the dics approached Gadron as he dismounted, but the man just waved him away. “I’m quite alright,” he said.
Cole watched the Corporal’s chanical breathing. What a brilliant conversation that would be – pulling aside a dic to report suspicious breathing while the guy was literally counting breaths right there.
Better to approach this with subtlety. “Hey.” Cole flagged one of the dics. “Corporal’s probably got so sort of uh… survivor’s guilt. Might wanna have soone evaluate him.”
The dic nodded, making a note. Good enough.
As the dic led Gadron away, a runner ca up from the direction of the command center. “Sir Warren? Captain Lorresh requests your report on the missing patrol.”
The team followed Warren through the fort’s central pathway to the command center.
Lorresh stood at his map table. “Sir Warren. What happened to my n?”
“Three dead – Kellam, Davies, Bren. Struck down in an ambush by a Nevskor variant. Their flas were of little use. The others survived with little injury; it seed their rifles and wit availed them in the end.”
Lorresh frowned. “A Nevskor variant…”
“Level 12, I suspect.” Warren proceeded to explain the details they’d pieced together.
He got to his speculation about the Nevskor’s burrowing ability against hard, rocky ground when a communications officer shot up from his scrying pane station. “My lords! Research Post Kidry is under assault! They’re on the pane.”
Warren and Lorresh turned toward the officer. A harried-looking lieutenant appeared on the glowing Scrying Pane behind him, a hole in the wall of their command structure.
“Captain Lorresh –” The lieutenant’s eyes locked onto Warren’s face. “And Sir Warren! Thank God.” The naked relief in his voice was painful to hear.
Composing himself, he continued. “We’ve just contained a mutiny among our troops. Ten of our own… They sabotaged our cannons and turned –”
A soldier burst into view behind the lieutenant. “They’re upon us! A company of goblins and three Nevskors! By God, one of them is massive! They’re charging the bridge!”
“Sir!” Another soldier appeared. “We can’t hold without the field guns. What are our orders?”
Soone else shouted from offscreen: “Flas don’t work! The Nevskors – our fire magic does nothing!”
The lieutenant turned back to the Pane as chaos reigned in the background. “Captain, we require reinforcents at once – the field guns from your armory. Just two will suffice. We’ve three Istraynian relics in storage, along with a month’s yield of research from the wastes. Should we fall –”
“Your current forces?” Lorresh cut in.
“Forty-three combat-ready after the mutiny. Five combat mages.” The lieutenant hesitated, then apparently decided on his argunt. “Sir, we cannot lose these artifacts to the demons.”
Lorresh hesitated. But for what? The math wasn’t anything crazy like differential equations – Kidry sat 12 miles away, 30 minutes at most. That kind of call should’ve taken a second to make.
But no, here they were, watching an inexperienced commander agonize over whether to send help to those who might be dying right now. Thirty minutes. That’s all it would take. Fucking leadership paralysis.
After a good twenty seconds of thought, Lorresh’s expression hardened. “Dispatch a small party to evacuate the research staff and artifacts. The rest must delay, grant them ti to withdraw.”
“Wha- Captain, I can’t! That would be… utter folly. I cannot, in good conscience, consign my n to such a fate, not when an alternative solution is readily accomplished,” the lieutenant rebutted, glancing at Cole’s team. “The Slayers, along with two field guns. This is all I request of you. Please, sir.”
“Lieutenant, I…” Lorresh’s voice faltered. “I understand, truly, but… we cannot – I cannot hazard such a loss…” He hesitated, struggling for words. Then, he straightened and drew closer to the Pane, standing directly in front of it.
“We shall endure through that which we preserve.” The words lent him steadiness, as if they sohow justified his decision. Real Thermopylae shit there, except Leonidas actually had the balls to die with his n instead of playing armchair commander from a fortress. “Save whom you may, along with the artifacts. May God be with you.”
He tapped a button on the side and the Scrying Pane went dark.
“The hell?” Miles snapped, rightfully so. “You’re just gonna let those boys die? You must be outta your Goddamn mind.”
Lorresh flinched about Miles’ tone. He almost scowled before he composed himself. “I– my lords, with respect, command decisions are never…”
He straightened, steadying himself with formality, even as his eyes suggested a flash of offense at having his authority questioned. “Every erstwhile rescue attempt has t with failure. The demons, they – our numbers are scarcely sufficient to hold Nolaren.”
Even the asinine higher-ups back ho at least had the excuse of geopolitics – a ga larger than just the pawns out on the field. As fucked up as it was, denying reinforcents to preserve stability was, frankly, sowhat legitimate. But this? This wasn’t even tragedy anymore, nor so legendary last stand. It was just… farce. Sacrificing good n over shit math. Or worse, over cowardly incompetence – which was the last thing Cole might’ve expected from a minotaur.
“Explain your math,” Cole said.
“I…” Lorresh hesitated, caught off guard. Then, his face hardened. “Yes, the math. Forty n hold Kidry against two Nevskors and a company of goblins. Deprived of artillery, they… may yet hold for a ti – but I fear not long enough for us to reach them.”
Cole didn’t buy it. Sure, Celdorne couldn’t match the U.S. throwing a battalion at every rescue like back ho, but this wasn’t so massive demon invasion either. Just a border raid that happened to work. Nolaren could spare the manpower for this.
Ethan didn’t seem to buy it either. “How many n do you need to operate those field guns?”
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Lorresh rebounded as if the question had just given him so ammo. “Eight n to a gun, sir. That, however, is not the matter of greatest concern – for not even so few may we spare, lest our defenses falter.”
The guy’s stubbornness was already starting to get under Cole’s skin. “So, just 16 guys. Plus ourselves and a small escort, you’ll still retain well over 70 n here. Your defenses ain’t gonna falter.”
Lorresh shifted uncomfortably. He knew damn well his numbers were fucked. “That… Yes, that may be accurate, but to risk weakening our position…”
Cole fought back a scowl, forcing his voice to remain level. “Against what? A goblin raid you just told us your regular patrols handle weekly? C’mon, your kingdom summoned heroes from another world. You’ve got two Slayer Elites standing right here – Sir Warren, Lady Elina.”
The reminder seed to knock sothing loose in the Captain’s facade. He kept silent, hesitating. He knew he didn’t have shit to say; no more excuses to fall back on.
“Fuck it,” Mack said, shaking his head. “We got Slayer Elites, don’t we? We got our modernized fireballs, don’t we? Should be enough to handle so Nevskors. We can just go ourselves.”
Miles nodded. “Mhmm. And if sothing happens to us out there – Lord forbid – ‘cause you couldn’t spare the damn manpower? Hell, I reckon His Highness ain’t gonna take too kindly to that.”
Lorresh looked to Warren like so fucking bureaucrat hoping his boss would bail him out of a hard call. Warren just stood there, arms crossed, deliberately silent. Good; let him squirm.
Cole cleared his throat. Ti to drive this ho. “‘No man left behind.’ It’s a principle we live by, where I’m from. It ans we risk everything to bring our people ho, no matter what. But even then, we’ve only ever fought against our fellow man. Here?” He raised his hands, addressing the entire room. “Here you’ve taken up an even heavier burden – standing against the dark so no one else has to. It’s a noble cause, don’t get wrong. A higher calling; a hard duty. But you know what I can’t figure out?”
It was a perfect hypocrisy, the fundantal disconnect between their words and actions. They probably knew it already, but maybe they just needed soone to say the quiet part out loud.
“The n at Kidry – they stood against that sa darkness just as long as you have. They’re out there right now, holding the line. Shielding others from horrors they themselves must bear. Don’t they deserve the sa salvation that everyone else gets? What makes their lives worth less than the ones you’re trying to protect?”
Lorresh lowered his head. Sha? Regret? Guilt, that he’d ever thought otherwise? Whatever it was, he finally cracked. “‘No man left behind.’ Very well. I shall dispatch 30 n with you. Save the n of Kidry.”
He nodded to one of his n. “Have the Second Platoon ready for deploynt under Sir Warren’s command. I shall inform Kidry of our decision.”
Lord knew how much ti they wasted just trying to convince the man while his fellow Celdornians were out there dying. But at least they’d succeeded, and that alone was a victory worth celebrating.
Cole walked out, leading his team to their shuttle.
“You’ve admirable conviction, Lieutenant,” Warren said as they walked. “I’d have done the sa, though I must caution you – this single, thus far isolated incident affords us the luxury of choice. This is a grace not granted under the fury of full incursion.”
Cole nodded. Celdorne was nowhere near the U.S. in terms of firepower and logistical capabilities. They couldn’t be everywhere at once, nor could they have a crazy advantage in every single engagent they found themselves in. “Yeah, I get it. We’ll have to make the hard call eventually.”
“Were it not for our presence, Captain Lorresh’s decision would have been the correct one to make; he’d have no alternative but to let it fall.”
Ethan walked beside them. “Unless Nolaren were fully staffed. Why’s it running at half capacity, anyway? Sothing to do with the ‘colonial defense’ that one wolf guy ntioned, I’m guessing?”
“Indeed. Our trading companies, Duke Alvak’s foremost among them, have turned their designs toward distant lands – not for lucre alone, but that we might secure what shall be needful when the demons are upon us. By swelling our coffers now, we may gather strength in due course, that when the true war cos, we shall not be found wanting.”
The logic was simple enough – hell, Cole’s sister used to stomp him with it in strategy gas. Snatch up a bunch of bases early, get the economy rolling, and steamroll later. Only worked if the other guy just sat there twiddling his thumbs, though, and he’d learned that real fast.
Miles took a swig of water as they reached their shuttle. “A fine plan, ain’t gonna lie – ‘cept this ‘true war’ of yours ain’t waitin’ on y’all’s schedule.”
“No, it seems not.” Warren glanced ahead, where the Second Platoon had organized. “This incursion makes that plain. Two Nevskors, evolved beyond what we’ve heretofore witnessed… Indeed, this is no common raid. Sothing higher moves them. No re orc set this in motion.”
Warren turned toward the command center. “I shall return anon. Thank you for your insight, Sergeant Garrett; I must put this before the Director-General.”
Cole watched him go, taking a sip from his own canteen. That was when he saw it – one of the soldiers in the Second Platoon, helt on, breaking formation and walking toward Warren. Maybe he had business with Warren? A fan, maybe?
But it didn’t seem right; there was a ti and place for getting autographs, and this sure as hell wasn’t one. Shit, he didn’t even wave a hand like an enthusiastic fan might. If Warren had caught on, he couldn’t tell.
Warren adjusted his path, angling himself so there was no one behind the soldier – no collateral damage. Oh, he knew.
And it paid off.
The helted soldier moved fast, his rifle snapping up with unnatural speed – enhancent magic. Warren reacted just as fast, bringing his revolver up.
At the sa ti, multiple barriers flared to life. The first layer was pulled straight from the surrounding atmosphere – ambient moisture condensed into a dense curtain of water. Behind it, a slab of earth and rock, compacted with magic, ant to absorb whatever got through. The final layer, a standard barrier, stood as a failsafe against anything that still had force behind it.
Both sides fired.
Warren’s setup might’ve worked against 9mm – hell, it might’ve worked against .50. But this was the sa sort of round that pulverized that mimic on the first night. It moved hard, cleaving through the water as if it weren’t even there. It ripped through the stone next, punching a clean hole through like sabot against drywall. Then it hit the barrier, which probably did more than the water, but may as well have been nonexistent in the grand sche of things.
The round slamd into Warren’s armor with the force of a truck, launching him backward.
The other guy? He wouldn’t be getting up at all.
Warren’s revolver had obliterated his chest, leaving a grotesque bloom of red where his torso used to be.
Cole was already en route, but it seed that was the end of it. No imdiate targets. The nearby soldiers didn’t even have ti to react. The fight had lasted all of two seconds – most of them probably hadn’t even registered what just happened.
“DIC!” Cole yelled, rushing to Warren’s side to cover him.
Warren groaned. It was a rough, ragged sound – not one of those death groans Cole had witnessed occasionally, thank God. His breathing seed painful, but at least it was still an option. Warren might be hurting, but at least he still had a chest. Couldn’t say the sa for that helted guy.
Elina and Mack dropped down beside him while Miles and Ethan covered, directing the nearby soldiers to check on the rest of Sergeant Dalen’s group.
Cole glanced down at the impact site, stepping back to give the two dical experts room. The bullet had left a deep crater, warping the tal and caving it inward, but it had held, sohow. Probably because it was made of so absurdly high-tier legendary bullshit, the kind that could stop what should have been a kill shot.
“We gotta get this off,” Mack said.
Elina nodded, helping him loosen the brigandine’s side buckles until they could push it above the damaged section.
Warren grunted as it dragged over his skin, exposing the undersuit beneath – Arachne Silk, courtesy of OTAC’s lavish spending on its Slayers. Right now, it had demonstrated that it was worth every coin.
No penetration, no stain, no blood. A good sign, but they weren’t out of the woods just yet. Mack pulled up the undersuit, checking the skin. The bruising was already setting in. A deep, angry purple-black splotch spread across his side, centered on the worst of the impact. The edges bled out into mottled red and dark blue, swelling slightly where blood had pooled under the skin.
“No crepitus,” Mack said, feeling the region. He caught Warren’s confusion. “I an, no broken bones.”
Mack smiled, patting Warren on the shoulder. “Good news: your organs aren’t leaking. Just cracked ribs and a lot of bruising.” He turned to Elina as Warren gave a grunt of acknowledgnt. “How long will it take?”
“An hour to fully –”
Warren raised his hand. “Leave . The dics here – you must go. Kidry.”
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“Yo,” Ethan called out from behind them. He stood over the fallen soldier, the helt already removed. “It’s Gadron.”
“He ain’t shiftin’ though,” Miles said. “Ain’t a mimic?”
“A mystery for–” Warren groaned, shifting to get a glance. “ –later. Stronger demon, no doubt. No ti to tarry. Kidry. Go.”
Cole nodded. They’d have enough ti to speculate en route. Mind control, possession – whatever it was, that must've been what caused the mutiny. They’d find out soon enough.
“Alright.” He turned to his team as a pair of Nolaren’s dics tended to Warren. “Let’s go.”
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