100 kilometers south of Houstad
"We are too late," said an officer of the provincial guard in a stern tone that left no room for argument.
Jeanne sighed, keeping her head low. Ever since she had been forced to leave her church, she had chosen to enlist in the army. Her belief didn't permit any violence, but there were ways to help, and she traversed the region, warning the stubborn farmers about the invasion, debating elders until they agreed to evacuate, and assisting the squads assigned to the task in any way she could. Inspired by her example, the ranks of the volunteers swelled, and they made good progress thanks to the brave sacrifices of their defenders.
But their luck ran out today. Heavy long-range missile launchers drove into the farmlands. Oblivious to the panicked screams of the settlers, the hordemen secured their positions, and six farmers lay dead while the rest sought to escape. The officer was right; it was too late; if their group tried to get anyone out, they'd just add to the list of future victims.
The abbess closed her eyes as the first missile took to the sky and smoke covered her people. Faithful or not, she prayed for the deliverance of their souls when she heard a gasp and broke off the prayer, worried that they had been found.
Not a single enemy was left in sight. Battered remains of the missile launchers boomed at the horizons, callously flung away; the take-off missile was absent from the sky, and only a distant explosion high above the clouds lit up the surprised faces of the farmers. And Jeanne didn't blame them. Five hundred enemy soldiers and six missile launchers vanished in an instant. With a creak, the intense wind that swept over the place carried large swaths of earth skyward.
"How is that possible?" she whispered.
"The Dynast watches, ma'am!" A soldier proudly admitted to committing the heresy; his hand reflexively formed a mace sign. "He is always around in one form or another, and his servants are mighty!"
"Well, then, mighty servant." The officer slapped the young man behind his ears. "Less yapping and more serving. Escort the farmers out of here. You saw nothing, ma'am."
"My hearing also grew worse with age." Jeanne forced a smile.
****
Accompanied by a crack of her neck, the khatun reached Eugenia, saying nothing and without so much as grasping her weapons. Nanomachines already covered the wounds, restoring the smooth surface of the Elite's suit and repulsing the blood so that the surface shone a cheerful blue hue again. But Eugenia was breathing hard; her posture no longer betrayed certainty, and she threw her arms up.
A blurred line connected with the tonfas. Mad Hatter's punch, so terrible and powerful, hurled a tornado against Houstad's shield, all concentrated on a single point, and Janine yelled for the troops to take cover. The wind burst in, blowing into the warlord's face harder than most sandstorms she knew, but the dome restored itself, sparing the troops the worst.
On the field, Eugenia reeled; Mad Hatter's punch sent her own fist against her helmet hard enough to shatter a part of the faceplate and utterly flatten her nose. Janine didn't need to guess to know that the Elite's wounds reopened, but the worst sight was a shimmering line hovering before the perfectly calm khatun. She was baited into this rapid flickering punch and still struck far too fast for Eugenia to take advantage of this move.
A hand caught the Elite by the collar of her suit, crumpling the alloy as if it were mere paper, and pulled Eugenia closer to Mad Hatter.
"Tell me. Do you see him?" Mad Hatter asked. "Do you hear his words pouring poison into your ears, promising gifts in exchange for servitude?"
"No… no idea what you are blabbering about," Eugenia exhaled, panting heavily.
"Hm. So he doesn't call to you." Mad Hatter looked up. "Curious. Is that because you were born before the Extinction? Or maybe you lack certain qualities…"
The sizzling edge of the tonfa flew past Mad Hatter's head, missing it entirely, and Eugenia gasped for air as a knee rammed into her solar plexus, hard enough to make the woman vomit blood. The grabbed 'collar' of her suit disconnected itself from the main mass, and a portal readily opened behind her. But an elbow in the back of the neck sent the Iternian away from the escape, and then a leg sweep finally landed on Eugenia's right leg.
A metallic pimple grew on Eugenia's leg moments before the contact, as nanomachines reinforced the threatening area to cushion the blunt damage. And it exploded, scattering metal shards everywhere. The leg plunged into Eugenia's flesh like a razor, breaking the kneecap and severing tendons. The tonfas dropped, lost from pain, but the blue fist swiped at Mad Hatter's face, right at the regenerating, steaming flesh, bouncing off and grabbing the hair, ripping a chunk out.
"That's just childish." Mad Hatter slapped Eugenia, sending her down. "All this effort just to ruin my haircut. What are we, concubines, squabbling over which of our children to prompt to authority?"
She took Eugenia by the ankle, jerked the woman over her head, and whipped her, using a living body as a whip. A loud crack of dislocated bones reached Janine's ears; the Elite arched her body, still holding the torn hair, her mouth open in a wordless scream. Mad Hatter purposely let everyone see that weakness and then slammed her fist into the helmet, breaking half of it and crushing Eugenia into the ground with enough force to send a torrent of ground into the air.
I never imagined it would be this one-sided. Janine clenched the Taleteller. How long had it been since Redeemer and Ravager first clashed head-on? The two had evolved together, one through the genius of bioengineering, the other through the reward of her power. They grew; their potential seemed limitless, and even if that traitorous butcher had been forced to throw their fights first, the Tribe at large came to consider the two as equals.
If one was dominated so…
"Listen to me, hero." Mad Hatter's knuckles pressed hard into Eugenia's cheek. "You got your consolation prize. Now it's my turn to have fun. Yes," she chuckled to something, "I know you can hear me, and I have figured out the reason why you are here truly, imitation. I am going to increase the pressure against your cheekbone, slowly. First it'll crack. Then it'll shatter." Spurts of red colored Eugenia's pale cheeks as the woman struggled to breathe. She elbowed Mad Hatter in the ribs, to no avail. "Eventually, the pressure will reach your ears, and if you're lucky, they'll burst. Or not, and they'll be sent flying, dangling on the optical nerves, further confusing you. You have options, though. Feel free to complete your mission and escape through a portal, but then I swear I'll eat those near the gates alive. If you stay, you'll fail your wimpy country, and I'll have your flesh for a midday snack, but on the other hand, my mood will improve, and I promise to spare... I don't know. Hey, Ismaeel, how many doggies have your brats collected?"
Mad Hatter positioned herself above her victim. Her toes dug into the ground, left arm behind her back, the right hand kept digging into Eugenia's face as the woman lay on her side, elbowing the tormentor. They both tensed, straining their muscles, but one pushed herself to the limit, and the other easily countered any attempts at resistance.
A prong formed on Eugenia's elbow, and it briefly pierced Mad Hatter's skin, drawing blood. A casual blow broke it, bruising the elbow. Electricity erupted from Eugenia's suit, brightly illuminating both women, and sparks danced in the khatun's ears. Yellow arcs licked the unprotected body, melting the surrounding ground, but whatever the armor's generator was, it couldn't match the tonfas' discharges, and the taller woman didn't so much as bat an eye.
"Five hundred and six, Khatun!" Iron Lord responded, paying no attention to the light show. "Four more in critical condition. The healers are unsure if they'd survive; they refused augmetics."
"Five hundred and ten it is. That many of the defenders I'll spare." Mad Hatter snorted. "A good number. For five hundred days, the Sky tested our ancestors with constant hurricanes before deeming them worthy to worship him and leading them to the Steppe. It is a sign of my true father's favor. So what will it be, fake? Duty and self-preservation? Or lives?" Eugenia opened her mouth to answer, and the khatun shoved her fist harder into the other woman's head, dusting four teeth of Eugenia right inside their gums. The pale skin reddened, slowly swelling under the merciless pressure. "No more speeches. No glorious end. It'll be cowardly or ugly, and whichever you choose, someone is going to die."
****
50 kilometers northwest of Houstad:
To be aware of how to do a thing and be utterly incapable of performing the feat was torture. Second's eyes, misshapen as they were, picked up the smallest particles; the gifts bestowed upon him by his parents helped him see the bullets in slow motion, and he could do little but slash at them, far too late to save his plate from being besmirched.
He had arrived at the zone of the failed evacuation, quickly evaluating the siege camp set up by the hordemen. They had bombarded the troops sheltering in the food processing plant and were making steady progress, already breaching the walls. With their khan murdered in the north, that gang exhibited cautiousness, never taking risks, using long-range ordnance to drive the defenders away from the gaps, while widening and then sending in multiple assault teams, sticking to ranged combat and using their naturally superior biology and better armor to overwhelm any resistance. Once taken down, they'll chase after other escapees.
Or would they? What was the reason the hordemen sought to capture this place? The convoy had transported family relics and gathered resources from a Sunblade gold mine. Perhaps this rabble would indulge in pointless competition…
A knight had to know when to run to fight another day, for a knight's duty lay not to the individuals, but to the state. Second had already strained the limits of this rule by arriving here, driven by the Ice Fangs' values. The moral reasoning for him being here was that he refused to abandon those in need. The practical reason was simpler; tying up an enemy force here reduced the threat to Houstad and spared other escapees, as emboldened by the glint of gold, the scoundrels would doubtlessly pursue them, hoping to double or triple their ill-gotten gains. Or so he lied to himself.