Book 3 - Chapter 121 (Patreon)

Elenya’s black cross pierced a bucket-like helmet in the dark of night. A groan came from within, followed by seeping blood. She stood with one foot pinning the creature to the frozen mud, a stitched horror made with discarded corpses and crude metal. Its eight arms were all fitted with spikes, now most lay broken and twisted. The core was made from several men and encased in thin steel plates with jagged edges. The number “128” was tattooed on a shoulder.

Elenya ripped the cross free, the halberd-sized weapon marked by filigree depicting skeletons and death. She spat to the side, her red hair flowing in the cold wind that brought with it snow and the smell of burning oil.

“We got it!” came a call behind her.

Elenya rose in her black coat, a massive cleaver strapped to her back. Behind her stood three hunters in similar clothing. A man brandishing a blade of polished, shimmering metal. Too long to be called a dagger, yet too short for a sword. An unarmed woman with a barren scalp and hands clutched in prayer. And finally, a shorter man carrying a crossbow that was almost the same size as him.

“These things are way more intricate than the things they let loose in Nov Yanosk!” said the man with the shimmering sword between harsh breaths. "At least I can see clearly now with my eye healed."

“Mitya, it’s your turn to get the coal,” Elenya said and stepped up the frozen hill to gaze over the battlefield. Around her lay the remains of a dozen infantrymen. Far in the distance, the hunters' gatekeepers, a pair of giant men, demolished their way through the Gulschak backline. On the other side, more hunters tore their way forward. Further to the west, a massive porcelain and steel contraption in the shape of a newborn roared in a scream of metal grinding against metal that cut against one's own sanity. Surrounding it was a cloud of different colored light, blue lightning, flashes of gold, and fiery explosions.

To the side stood the fortress of Voska, its houses burning like torches beneath the stone bridge.

“This section is barely defended at all. Pathetic really,” Elenya said over her shoulder. “Get ready, we push for the fortress and don't look at that thing, hurts even my head, and you're just lowly Embers!”

“Man, I really miss the city. This is enough work for a week already!” Mitya said as he ripped a glowing rock from the dead beast's chest. “Don’t you agree, Fedir?”

The short man carrying the massive crossbow on his shoulder walked laboriously up the hill.

“I actually enjoy the sightlines. But what about that big thing?” Fedir said and pointed to the metal creation slamming into the ground. “Saint, it makes the whispers chatter.”

Olenka, the woman with a bare head, came last, holding the coat tight around her. “That thing isn’t for us. Let the hands of the Saints deal with it.”

Elenya nodded. In the trenches before them, the Gulschaks were adjusting to the shock of their initial attack. Similar sights must be happening all around the southern front.

“Fedir, the hill is yours. The rest with me, one trench at a time. It’s going to be a long night.”

The group of hunters moved quickly into the next trench, backs hunched and weapons raised. A long corridor dug in months past that looked to be deserted. A wrong assumption.

A snap of bowstrings, and a dozen bolts whistled from the dark at the edge of the corridor.

“Shield,” Elenya called calmly as she raised the black cross, positioning it like a spear. “Mitya, sneak around.”

Olenka, in turn, raised her hands with fiery eyes. With a whispering prayer, a glowing orb sprang up before Elenya. Mitya, with his glimmering sword, took a step into the shadows and vanished. The weapon was left behind but soon burned away into nothingness. The arrows whizzed through the air, then cracked against the glowing surface. It shattered like glass. Elenya hurled the cross. The power of the throw was enough to send wisps of snow in every direction. She dashed across the fresh snow, pulling the cleaver from her back.

The black cross shredded two hiding archers like fish in an industrial machine, impaling another straight through and pinning him to the frozen mud.

The Gulschak archers shouted something, and pikes were raised. Elenya hit them like a runaway train. A kick sent one man catapulting into his own. A sweep of her cleaver shattered the spears. She turned in a deadly dance, severing limbs and weapons with ease.

One Gulschak raised his crossbow towards the red-haired hunter. The shadows roiled behind him. A hand holding a short sword in the process of burning into existence slowly grew from the shadows along with two fiery eyes. The sword burst through the chest of the archer before he could fire. Elenya cleaned up the rest.

“Good, next trench. Scout it out if you—”

A blast ripped at the earth beyond the lip of the trench. Wood and snow burst across them.

“Damn!” Mitya said, holding his head low. “They already got some steam cannons in place.”

Elenya peeked up. In the distance, a cannon had been turned around to face the rear. Two engineers moved their hands with hurried frustration.

“They’re too much in the open. Easy prey,” Elenya said.

A quiet crack came from the hill behind them. The sound of a bowstring being released, followed by something whistling through the air.

Fedir's arrow caught one operator in the neck. A few moments later, another ripped through the guts of the other.

Elenya raised two fingers to her lips and gave a loud whistle. Olenka, who had come up from behind, gave a questioning look. “You’re repositioning him so soon?”

Elenya rubbed her chin, a piece of shrapnel having drawn blood.

“These aren’t mindless beasts, they’ll figure his position out.”

They moved through the network of trenches. A minute later, a series of blasts came from a handful of machines around the fortress. These, however, no longer aimed for the crumbling stronghold but at the southern flank. Several hit the hill of the sniper, rendering it a burning hellscape, while the rest blanketed the trenches the Gulschaks had once called their own.

“Shit! You were right!” Mitya called as a shell blasted the earth fifty yards away, sending fiery liquid in every direction. “I hate fighting humans. Too smart.”

They pressed on through the old defences. All through the southern front, the hunters did the same. They were not the army. They did not have a bulk of unblessed ready to be sacrificed. But they were strong, practiced killers, and the dimly lit trenches proved an acceptable hunting ground.

The Gulschaks bolstered their defences with what they had, meeting the Blessed with fiery shells and flamethrowers.

Elenya’s team moved systematically, dismantling the defences through the sneak attacks of their scout, well-placed shots from the sniper, or the straight-up violence of her head-on approach. Finally, they approached the artillery, blasting shells both towards the approaching hunters and the crumbling Voska. It was dark and cold, but the smell of burning oil spoke of heat enough to melt one's skin.

Elenya snuck forward, peeking over the lip of the trench they were in. The Gulschaks had retreated to this point, building barricades of steel and barbed wire. Flamespewers hummed and repeater crossbows shot into the dark. All along the front, the hunters had pushed their way forward to the heart of the Gulschak war machine while their strongest fought the porcelain newborn in the distance.

“What do we do?” Mitya asked, clutching a wound on his hand while the ground trembled with another scream from the metal monstrosity in the haze.

Elenya gritted her teeth. “I'm just a Fireling. The others will start it, then we begin.”

Olenka gave a shiver. “You really have changed. The captain I know would have rushed straight in.”

From further to the left, a crackle of Blessed power grew over the night. As if they’d been waiting, the Gulschak artillery roared to life, all blasting arcing projectiles towards some unknown battle.

“That’s our call. Mitya, get 'em from the back. I’ll take the front.”

The man melded into the shadows with a nod. Elenya gave two quick whistles, and a shot whistled through the air from somewhere behind. The shot caught the eye of a gas mask peeking over the defences. Then came Elenya, a shield of gold around her, cleaver strapped on her back, and the black cross wielded like a halberd.

She burst towards the barricades with a shout. Two flamespewers aimed over the edge and, with a click, roared fire in her direction. Another shot came from the dark. This one hit the mechanism of the weapon. The sticky liquid sprayed in a hail of fire, coating the men wielding it. The other flamespewer screamed something beneath his mask, but two swords ripped through his chest.

The rest of the infantry turned to see a man smiling as he disappeared into the shadows once more. Then Elenya slammed into the barricade. Repeater crossbows fired into the golden shield to no avail. And then she swung. The cross cut and pierced, Elenya moving in a dance with inhuman speed, her skin tinted red. A blur of dismemberment.

It only took a few moments for her to break their ranks. A flamespewer turned around a corner, but the shadows moved beneath his feet. Mitya’s form darted up from beneath him, a sword burning into his hand.

A moment later, fire burst forward.

“Get 'em, Mitya!” Elenya called.

But nothing came of it. The fire roared over Elenya, shattering her golden shield and setting fire to her coat. She backtracked, throwing the burning clothing from her shoulders.

“Damn it, Mitya can’t—”

A form slumped out from the dark. The young man with the blessing to move through the shadows rolled onto his stomach from the darkness. Blood spewed.

His arm was missing.

“There’s someone there,” he said through gritted teeth, clutching his bleeding stump.

Olenka came running up after them into the infiltrated hold. From the fire of the flamespewer, a figure moved.

“Get a belt around that, pull it as hard as you can,” Elenya hissed through her teeth, not looking away from the silhouette walking through the fire.

“I was certain I’d caught that one.” A deep voice called from the fire between the bases of the artillery machines. “Good on you to cut off your arm to escape.”

A massive man strode forward. His skin was white as the snow around them, studded with metal rivets at even intervals. Bare feet and upper body. A tank fitted to his back contained a green liquid that sloshed around with each of his heavy steps. From it ran tubes to his broad back and to the back of his skull. His eyes lit with a deep fire and the tank wheezed, pumping the viridian substance straight into his studded body.

Karthal, the Improved.

The killing intent of the man was hard and toxic, making the surrounding machines hum in unison. In one oversized hand he held a severed arm. He threw it to the ground.

“Well, you must be the hunters. A pleasure to finally meet!”

He turned to the remaining Gulschak infantry. “You strengthen the other sections. I’ll take my time to rip these apart for more inspiration.”

Elenya Butcher of Hordes flashed a grim smile. “He’s a Blaze. You can feel that thick intent. Support me as best you can. If I begin to lose, run.”

Olenka pulled a strap around the groaning scout’s stump. Something whistled through the air. A bolt aimed for Karthal’s eye.

He simply raised a hand, swatting the bolt away midair. The white skin was left without even a tiny mark.

“Butcher of Hordes,” he said. “A crude name for a crude empire. Now let’s meet in battle and settle our differences.”

The tank on his back bubbled, and his veins popped beneath his skin in the same green color as the strange substance.

He shot forward, blasting into a lunge from a standstill. Olenka whispered a prayer and a golden shield grew to surround Elenya once more. She charged straight for him, the cross brandished like a spear.

They clashed with a boom of fiery power, the snow rippling in the air.

Karthal had caught the spear, pressing her backwards. Elenya’s own muscles bulged. She was not someone who would usually lose a battle of strength.

“Impressive strength, but I—” Karthal began.

Elenya took a quick step back and pivoted. A dagger whipped from her sleeve. It slashed across the man's throat in one smooth motion.

It didn’t leave a mark.

A grin grew on his lips, and his fist shot forward. It slammed into Elenya’s side.

She catapulted backwards, slamming into the barricade beside her hunters. She’d protected her vitals by folding in her arm, but the entire limb shook from the impact.

“For a Fireling, you really are something else. I applaud you,” Karthal said with a short bow.

Elenya cast a glance at her underlings. Mitya struggled to his feet with only one arm, short sword raised. Olenka had her hands clasped in prayer, eyes closed.

“You can still fight, we give it to him. Aim for the tank,” Elenya said as she rose, the black cross still in her hand.

A bolt whistled through the air. Mitya dove into the shadows, and Elenya charged with a golden shield before her. A green pulse went through Karthal’s veins, and his grin widened.

The two sides slammed into one another once more. Blades slashed from the shadows. Bolts shot from the dark aimed at the man’s eyes, and Elenya’s spear aimed for the vitals. Karthal met it head-on. The attacks slipped off his skin. His palms slammed blades aside like the wooden weapons of children. Only once did he dodge, when Elenya blasted a cone of deathly energy from her spear.

First Mitya was kicked to the side, his ribcage broken. Then a stray hand crushed Olenka’s shoulder. Elenya took their place, taking hit after hit, rising again and again. In the end, she stood bloody and bruised with her team behind her.

“Damn, you really are tough as shit,” she said, blood running down her nose.

The white giant stood before them with arms crossed. “A well-fought, hunter. Tell them of my name in the afterlife.”

Elenya looked back at her underlings. They were too hurt to flee. She pushed herself to her feet with the help of the black cross.

“That’s it, warrior. Now pull all the strength your form can muster, and I’ll give you the courtesy of the same,” Karthal said, nose held high.

Elenya took a deep breath and exhaled hot steam into the cold air. She spun the spear around her form.

Then something curious happened. In the ravaged earth between the two, a black-feathered creature landed. A crow, jumping on its two legs. It approached Elenya and tilted its head curiously.

“Not yet. Her flesh is yours as soon as I’m done. Vermin,” Karthal said.

The bird turned to look at him and cawed with a pitch that somehow felt mocking. Karthal’s brow furrowed. He kicked frozen dirt in its direction, and the bird threw itself into the air with an irritated croak.

“Now, girl. Any last words?” Karthal said, cracking his knuckles.

“None for the likes of you,” Elenya said between harsh breaths.

Karthal laughed, but it was cut short. Something bit harmlessly at his toe. He stared at it disapprovingly. A rat doing its utmost to pierce the skin.

The giant squashed it underfoot. He looked up suddenly at Elenya. “I’m sorry. I have to end it. I believe a nasty one is on his way.”

He burst forward, striking with open palms towards her. Elenya met him, but this time she didn’t aim to strike, merely to buy time.

“Come on. Give it your all, stalling isn’t fair!” Karthal called.

Elenya did as best she could. Still, the killing blow caught her. Four fingers aimed like a knife towards her chest. Something burst from the Gulschak structures.

And the strike didn’t come.

A blur slammed into the white-skinned giant like a cannonball. Karthal shot into a nearby deserted machine from the impact. His weight bent the metal with ease.

Elenya placed a knee to the frozen earth as something rose before her. From the dark, rats ran to meet the figure, squeaking at his feet.

Olenka, clutching the unconscious Mitya, stared with wide eyes. “Have the Saints answered my prayers? Are you an angel?”

Elenya breathed harshly. “I don’t know who you are. But I reckon you’re on our side?”

Wretch rose to his full length, furred and monstrous. He turned a red slitted pupil to the bloody hunter.

“Don’t you recognize your old scout, Elenya?”