Boom! Boom! Boom!
A series of heavy detonations thundered as high-explosive fire blossod across the chanical chassis.
"Trajann, keep your focus. This will be a grueling engagent."
The somber, booming vox-voice emanated from just around the corner as a titanic silhouette rounded the edge of the architecture.
"Venerable Rune!"
The Imperial Palace was of such staggering scale that the Custodians loathed damaging its internal structures. As massive Dreadnoughts, they were forced to take long, circuitous routes through halls wide enough to accommodate their bulk, trailing behind the more agile infantry.
It was the sudden, desperate intervention of the assault cannon mounted on Venerable Rune's arm that had saved Trajann from being hewn in two by Axion's golden blade. The high-caliber rounds from the assault cannon carried imnse kinetic force. The suddenness of the blast caught the Iron Man off guard, montarily overwhelming his active gravitic displacent modules and successfully knocking the chassis backward.
The high-yield munitions managed to puncture the thin energy shielding surrounding Axion's fra.
However, to a body such as his, this was of little consequence. These shields were rely repurposed designs from Automated Sentry-Troopers; while the technology was advanced, the chassis' dinsions were too compact to house a true generator. Most of its internal power was dedicated to driving a super-heavy fra composed of ultra-density neutronium and maintaining the gravitic arrays.
In fact, it was the terrifying density of that chanical body that proved its ultimate defense. The assault cannon rounds left virtually no structural damage, manifesting only as blackened scorch marks across the machine's surface.
The chassis broke into a predatory sprint, the pale-gold blade in its hand describing a fluid, lethal flourish.
Before being interred within the sarcophagus of a Dreadnought, Rune had been a Shield-Captain of the Legio Custodes. His combat prowess remained peerless. Furthermore, he had fought for the Emperor within the madness of the shattered Webway beneath the Palace ten millennia ago. It was in those abyssal tunnels that he had been subrged by a tide of Neverborn, fighting until total exhaustion and suffering catastrophic wounds before his broken body was recovered by his brothers.
In terms of raw chronology, Rune was at least twice as old as Trajann. He had endured eons of warfare; even as a Dreadnought, he remained preternaturally cautious.
Watching the machine charge, Rune triggered his assault cannon in precise, asured bursts. Yet, the staggering knockback of the previous volley did not repeat. Axion had dialed back his anti-gravity output by 30%, bringing the chassis' effective weight to over two tons. Though his top speed dropped, his agility remained terrifying.
As the machine closed the distance, Rune controlled his massive bulk to take a calculated step back, blading his chassis. His other arm, equipped with a crackling power claw, began a high-speed lethal rotation before sweeping toward the machine from a rear arc.
Axion's smaller stature provided a distinct tactical advantage.
Leaning into his imnse weight and montum, he dropped into a low slide, skidding across the polished stone beneath the reach of the power claw. As he passed, his blade lashed out, biting into one of Rune's legs.
Supported by the particle-oscillation field and the machine's staggering strength, the golden blade sheared through the Dreadnought's limb with surgical ease. The bipedal Dreadnought imdiately lost its center of gravity.
Rune did not yield. Lacking a stable bracing point to offset the violent recoil of his assault cannon, he locked the weapon and swung the entire heavy arm like a massive club at the machine sliding beneath him.
But the sheer mass of a Dreadnought ant its flexibility was inherently limited.
Axion transitioned from his slide into a standing crouch with effortless grace, his sword rising to et the descending assault cannon. Without a disruption field to reinforce it, the cannon's barrels were no match for the golden longsword. The weapon was sliced clean in half.
A torrent of unfired munitions spilled from the severed feed-chutes.
Mid-turn, Axion reached out and snatched a single shell from the air before it hit the ground. Nanites sward over his palm, forming a rudintary firing tube that instantly chambered the round and launched it at the approaching Trajann.
Trajann could only watch as the silver blur and the golden blade danced around Venerable Rune. Before he could process the maneuver, a shell was screaming toward him. Driven by instincts honed over centuries of grueling training and combat, Trajann twisted his body, catching the blast on his reinforced pauldron.
CRACK!
Amidst the smoke of the detonation, a golden figure was hurled backward. The shells for a Custodian Dreadnought were master-crafted rounds, not only were the weapons themselves ancient and technologically superior, but the ammunition was larger, more potent, and carried a significantly higher explosive payload than those used by the standard Adeptus Astartes.
Despite his Auramite plate, the blast tore his pauldron away entirely. Flying shrapnel from the shattered armor pulverized one of his helt's ocular lenses.
For the first ti as Captain-General of the Legio Custodes, Trajann felt a cold sense of impotence. No enemy in his long life had ever inspired such a harrowing sensation.
Rune had lost a leg and his primary ranged weapon; his chassis was completely destabilized, crashing to the floor. Even as he fell, he lunged with his remaining power claw. But with his mobility compromised, Axion rely pivoted, his blade severing the chanical arm at the shoulder joint in a single, clean stroke.
Standing over the crippled Dreadnought, Axion seized the severed power claw. His ocular sensors turned a baleful red as he targeted the last remaining vital organs within the sarcophagus.
Rune lay helpless, watching the claw descend toward his center of mass, awaiting the final reward of death. The machine's capabilities were beyond his wildest imaginings; even he could find no counter to its logic.
"Raaaagh!"
BOOM!
A frantic, diminutive silhouette blurred into the fray near the machine, screaming with a high-pitched, manic intensity. The figure radiated the very stench of death; its bio-modified fra was encrusted with auto-syringes pumping a cocktail of combat stimms and neuro-drugs into its system.
Wrapped in a black syn-skin suit, its limbs were festooned with flars and bolt-pistols, its fingertips ending in shimring monomolecular blades.
A torrent of prothium fla montarily blinded Axion's sensors. The sudden influx of error data caused his strike to veer, the power claw slamming into the stone just centiters from the edge of Rune's sarcophagus.
Trajann, struggling to his feet, stared in shock at the crazed figure obstructing the Iron Man.
An Eversor Assassin?
BOOM!
A catastrophic explosion ripped through the air next to the machine. The force was so violent it threw the remains of Rune's Dreadnought several ters across the hall.
Rune used his one remaining limb to prop up his shattered chassis. Though he had never seen one in the flesh, he knew exactly what that was: the terminal bio-ltdown of an Eversor.
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