Kochav rose from behind the scale, one hand lifted.
FWOOM!
The flame split and peeled away from him, dragged sideways as if recoiling from his presence.
"Are you in range?" Chi'vak called from behind, troops crouched low in the twin craters on either side.
—
"Yes," Kochav said.
His hand leveled at the wall.
His fingers curled into a fist.
BOOM!
The siege-flamer's vents detonated behind the plating, fire bursting through the seams in violent tongues.
TINK—THINK—THINK!
Fragments sprayed outward, sparks and shrapnel rattling uselessly against Kochav's force shield before dropping to the ground.
Crack—
His eyes snapped up.
A bulkhead was slamming down to seal the walls.
Snap!
He twisted sideways, tore a scale free from the ground with a violent pull, and hurled it forward.
KREEK!
The scale punched through the wall just as the bulkhead dropped, metal shrieking as it struck and jammed.
Kochav stared at it for a long second.
Then his gaze lifted.
A rising whistle cut through the smoke as artillery shells raced down to meet them.
"Tch." He clicked his tongue and raised his hand.
—
To the right, the whole sector was lined with shield wall.
"Everyone's moved," Ruk'Tan said, already lifting a scale like a shield.
Rouar stood beside him, shock staff hissing as electricity crawled along its tip.
"Yeah. Let's go," Rouar said in final.
They surged forward.
Ruk'Tan took point, the scale braced ahead of him as flame washed across its surface, heat bleeding off in rippling waves.
On both flanks, troops advanced in step, hauling their own scales into place and locking them together into a moving wall.
"Now!" Ruk'Tan shouted.
He slammed the shield down.
The scale bit into the ground as he dropped behind it.
The others followed suit in practiced motion.
Flame rolled over the barricade—
too close.
—
Rouar slid in low behind the shield, boots skidding through ash.
"Distance!" he barked.
The line adjusted instantly, troops shifting back inches from the shield wall.
Crack!
Rouar's staff struck the scale.
Blue light flared.
Electricity leapt from the staff into the connected slabs, racing along their edges and seams.
Shock—
The wall crackled alive, a humming, electrified barrier rising between them and the fire.
The flame struck—and came apart.
Not stopped.
Unraveled.
It climbed the wall instead of crossing it, twisting and peeling away as the crackling field dragged it upward, breaking the stream into ragged sheets of heat.
Then the air boomed.
Hair and quills stood on end as the electromagnetic field surged outward from the scales, the space in front of them crawling with interference.
Shells screamed in.
Ruk'Tan saw the distortion first—the air ahead of the wall tightening, light bending where it shouldn't.
"Hold."
—
Rouar stepped closer to the scales.
Heat gnawed at his back.
Electricity crawled up the staff and into his arms, teeth grinding through bone.
He didn't move.
The first shell hit the field—and bucked.
Its scream broke pitch.
BOOM!
It burst high and wrong, shrapnel flattening sideways instead of outward.
Another punched into the distortion and simply died—its momentum collapsing as it buried itself behind them without detonating.
A third entered—
and tore apart mid-air, its casing shearing as if squeezed by invisible pressure.
The barrage lost coherence.
Shells staggered. Some burst too soon. Others struck dumb and silent.
None struck clean.
"Forward!" Rouar shouted, his forearm braced against the hot plate, the electric arc dimmed just enough not to kill him outright.
—
The shield wall surged ahead, pushing into the flame as the sky fell silent—artillery pausing to reload.
"Ughhh!"
A loud, pained grunt came from his right.
On the beastman's forearm, leather straps had melted into his skin, fusing there as he forced his arm forward.
His eyes burned red, ignoring the pain.
Rouar's breath quickened. He glanced down at his own brace—it was burning through his fur.
He closed his eyes for a long second.
"Now," Ruk'Tan spoke from behind him, his quills straightened, his eyes locked onto the incoming shells.
Rouar saw them too.
His free hand tightened around the shock staff, the tri-prong screaming blue as electricity begged to be uncaged.
He glanced along the line, checking.
Most of them had pulled their arms from the shields—but some were stuck.
The same beastman was among them, flesh tearing as the straps twisted, refusing to release him.
"Remove your arm, fools!" Rouar shouted, brows drawn tight, teeth grinding.
The beastman struggled, trying to use his free hand to shove the shield away—but it wasn't enough.
"Window's closing," Ruk'Tan reminded him as the artillery began to scream in again.
—
"Damn it!"
Rouar tore his gaze back to his own shield.
No more hesitation.
He struck it.
Electricity screamed from the staff—into his shield, then racing across the interlocked scales.
—
"Ahhhhhhhh!"
A raw cry from his right, but he didn't dare look.
What mattered was the electromagnetic field.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
Thud. Thud… Boom.
An uneven symphony detonated against the distortion.
Even with his eyes closed, he could picture the ruin beyond it.
This was another game of chance.
Only the fortunate lived through it.
…or so he thought.
He turned, expecting a charred corpse.
Instead—blood pooling beneath the wall. An arm fused to the shield.
Hiss. Sizz!
The beastman had burned the stump closed against the plate, his remaining hand gripping a bloody axe.
The bold.
Beyond the one-armed beastman lay more of both—chance and boldness.
Charred bodies from the electric arc.
Mangled flesh torn open by artillery.
"Again!" Rouar shouted through grinning, lifting the shield and pressing it into the fire, the pain momentarily forgotten.
The shield wall surged forward, leaving the dead behind.
Their numbers thinned with every push—
and so did the distance.
—
"We're close enough," Ruk'Tan said, drawing the lasrifle from his back.
The others followed.
—
"Here goes…" Rouar muttered, lowering his stance, hands tight on the shaft.
BANG! PEW!
The staff slammed into the shield—las bolts striking in tandem.
PEW!
The scales flared violently.
The EM field surged outward, blue arcs swarming along the seams like living things.
The combined strike hit—
—and the world screamed.
The flame did not recoil.
It convulsed.
The solid torrent of promethium fractured mid-stream, its heart hollowing as the EM field over-ionized the core.
Blue lightning stitched through the fire, turning orange into violent white.
The cone narrowed.
Twisted.
Collapsed inward.
Air detonated between them.
The stream lost its shape, breaking into writhing braids that lashed upward instead of forward.
Burning sheets peeled back, dragged along invisible lines of force.
"Hold!" Ruk'Tan roared.
Rouar drove the staff down again.
CRACK.
The field surged.
This time the base of the flame flickered—just for a breath.
Then it guttered.
A shudder ran up the length of the burning stream—visible, violent—like a pulse traveling against the current.
The roar of the siege flamer changed pitch.
Higher.
Unstable.
The fire changed direction and folded back on itself.
For a split second, the nozzle bloomed white—
Then—
BOOM.
The detonation came from behind the wall.
The siege mount ruptured inward, the blast hammering the Spire's walls.
The scales shuddered as fire and smoke burst through the seams in violent jets.
The wall held.
Flame bled from the cracks. Black smoke curled upward.
Then the torrent died.
Only burning fragments rained down beyond the distortion.
—
Then the bulkhead crashed down, reinforced metal locking into place and choking off the last of the fire.
They stood there, exhausted—breathing hard, shields still humming with residual charge.
Kochav appeared beside Rouar as if he had always been there.
"Oh. You managed," he said lightly.
"I was coming to help out, but—"
He shrugged, glancing at the ruined breach.
"Cool. Cool."
—
"What about the others?" Rouar asked, wrapping a bandage around the burn on his arm.
—
"Everyone is already in position," Kochav answered, pointing toward the sky.
"Notice the artillery halting? We're too close."
—
"So, what now?" Rouar asked.
—
"We breach—"
"ARCHHH!"
Kochav groaned in pain as his subjugation ward flared cerulean.
His left stump jerked violently, moving on its own as the cursed limb took shape from thin air.
From Kochav's point of view, Rouar was saying something but his mouth stilled,
"Get out of my head!" Kochav glanced to his left hand, Dark iridescent scales, eye in his palm, locking gaze with him.
—
"Corpse…
Construct with stolen power.
Claim it.
Take it for us."
The daemon's voice did not echo.
It pressed.
—
"Fuck off!" Kochav hissed.
His human hand clawed at the cursed one, trying to tear it free at the wrist.
The scaled limb flexed.
Not against him—Through him.
He lifted from the ground, boots scraping air as something else took hold.
A dagger snapped into his grip and slashed across the dark scales.
It screeched and sparked—
But did not bite.
The clawed fingers turned inward.
Purple light gathered at the joints.
"—No."
ZEEKKK.
Five razor-thin beams lanced outward, near invisible—
PEW. PEW.
They carved lines through metal behind him, precise and surgical.
Kochav's jaw locked as he tried to force the arm down.
It didn't respond.
Not fully.
—
"What is going on?" Helsin's voice cracked through Rouar's vox.
—
Rouar didn't answer immediately.
His eyes were fixed on the limb.
"Kochav's hand. It's changed."
He raised a hand, signaling the others back.
—
"What about the ward? Is it active?" Helsin demanded.
—
Rouar's gaze flicked to the inscription burning along Kochav's stump.
The ward glowed violently, fighting the daemon's influence.
"It's active—"
—
"Shoot it!" Kochav snarled.
"Shoot this motherfucker!"
He slammed his shoulder against the cursed arm, trying to force it away from his torso.
—
"Damn it."
Rouar grabbed a lasrifle from the ground and fired.
PEW. PEW. PEW.
The beams vanished before they struck.
Not blocked—Absorbed.
The air around the limb folded inward, swallowing the light without a trace.
"You will understand, child…" the daemon murmured.
The cursed hand twitched.
Then snapped toward the bulkhead.
—
Kochav's eyes widened.
"Never—"
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM!
Five lances of violet light punched into the reinforced plating.
Metal screamed.
KREEK—
The bulkhead buckled inward.
THOOM!
It tore loose and collapsed, smoke and fractured steel spilling into the corridor beyond.
The daemon's voice returned, closer now. Warmer.
"The abomination before us will force you to comply."
—
Kochav's instinct snapped into place.
His eyes locked onto the silhouette beyond the smoke.
For the first time—
His own thought unsettled him.
He did not disagree with the Artificer.
"What are you?" he demanded, both hands raised,
psychic pressure building around him in a low, rising thunder.
—
The haze shifted.
"They classified us as—"
The voice cut through the smoke.
Layered.
Mechanical. Human.
Neither dominant.
"Corpus-sine-Anima."
Thoom. Thoom.
Each step was measured.
Deliberate.
A pulse of force rolled outward—
BOOM.
The smoke blew aside.
The Knight stood revealed.
Ivory armor, edged in gold filigree darkened by war.
One half of the helm crowned in sculpted laurels.
The other side—
Stripped.
A single red lens burned in the hollow where an eye should have been.
One pauldron bore black and crimson, a golden hooded skull turned in silent profile.
And unlike other Knights—
Its hands were hands.
Articulated. skeletal-shaped.
Not fixed weapons.
It raised one.
The air bent around the pointing finger, light stretching thin as if pulled toward a single line.
"But we are named—"
A pause.
"Anathor."
The finger lowered slightly.
BOOM.
No flash. No beam.
Just absence.
The space between them snapped tight—
And something unseen crossed it.
Behind Kochav, bodies folded.
Armor caved inward without flame or shrapnel.
Men dropped mid-breath, chests crushed as if struck by a god's fingertip.
The sound arrived late.
A distant concussion rolling back toward them.
Silence followed.