Lanto sat with a heavy sigh, forcing himself to stay awake. For the first time in weeks, there was a sliver of breathing room, enough for the leadership to finally hold a long-overdue meeting. The price of claiming so much territory so quickly. Still, it was a nice problem to have. They were set up in the meeting room deep within the HQ.
He'd considered having it in the Fortress, but decided it was not worth the risk, too soon. Everyone they could afford to pull in was there. A few weren't, but the ones who mattered were.
"So, what's our situation?" Salina asked. "Reva, how is our new turf?"
The new woman in their group. She had shown herself to be a capable and effective leader over the last few years, and a place at the table was her reward. It came with far more responsibility and pressure, but the perks were worth it in his opinion.
"The Bridge is more or less ours. With Smant's death and his gutted leadership, the gang collapsed in on itself. There wasn't much of a fight, but it was still a mess. We're pulling double shifts to stabilise it as well as recruiting hard."
"Good, well done. Anything else?"
"Only that their water purification unit is busted. It doesn't look like sabotage, just collateral from all the fighting."
"Got it and Hann?" Selina asked the second newbie in the room. A man who had been with them for a decade but had never had the chance to stand out. The recent war changed that. He had made a name for himself during the fighting, taking the Fortress control almost by himself and was awarded with nominal control over the territory of the Stalkers.
"Not nearly an easy takeover. There are still skirmishes with remnants of the Stalkers, but they have been dying out. The biggest problem is the Brethren of Bones. They have been constantly testing us."
"Need more men?" Lanto asked. He was already planning to shuffle some people around, with the push over the Bridge, they could lessen their presence in their original territory, which would free up a lot of manpower.
"We're holding, but I wouldn't say no to some more bodies. I can say we have full control over the Fortress, but are still sweeping through it to make sure there are no fail-safes or any shit like that."
"And the techies or surgeons, what about them?"
Appearing confused and slightly concerned, Hann frowned. "I was told Peggi was dealing with that?"
Hearing her name, Peggi glanced up from her data slate. "I have. They weren't loyal to the Stalkers, just needed a space to work. We let 'em keep experimenting and not interfere; they should be more than happy to have the same arrangement as they did with the Stalkers."
"Good, good." Selina said, nose scrunching cutely in the way she did when she was thinking. Not that she'd ever admit it, and Lanto was pretty sure he was the only one to find it cute. That look had broken more than one rookie.
Shifting nervously the middle-aged man finished off, "Apart from that, we are also recruiting, but I am not sure how reliable much of it is. They are not being used for anything serious."
"Well done. Dressi—supplies?" Selina asked. Dressi was a small, willowy woman with piercing grey eyes and a beauty that had served her well as the matron of one of their largest brothels, until a noble's obsession forced her to move.
"Mixed." she said bluntly. "Guns, ammo, and food, we're stocked up on. But we are running critically low on some of our consumables, like grenades, rockets and medical supplies. Meds should be sorted now we have control over the Fortress, but the others will take time to restock."
"And our troops Tulah?" Selina asked the heavy-set woman. Like him, she was a PDF reject having run afoul of the nobles.
"As expected, the grunts got gutted. But overall, we came out of this very well, with few if any major losses to our core. I need time to sift through who earned their stripes or vet status. When can you get me that list Lanto?"
Lanto paused. "Not for a while. I'll make it a priority soon enough." He was not willing to say or commit to more for now. Not until he knew what plans they were committing to. He knew what Selina and he wanted, but they needed to get a feel of the room before committing.
Selina ruled with an iron fist, but now wasn't the time for unrest. Unhappy gangers could unravel everything they'd bled for.
After a few more rounds of problem-solving, the meeting finally reached the point Lanto had been waiting for. Selina gave him a small nod, and he stood to say his piece. "With most of Glow Gate under our control, it's time to decide what to do with the last gang in the city… the Brethren of Bones.
There was a silence as if everyone was waiting for someone else to speak. Annoyed, Lanto was about to press for an answer when Peggi said. "I think it's pretty clear, we should finish what we started. Take full control of the city." He gave her a small nod in thanks; he knew there was a reason he liked her. Then he carefully watched the rest of the room.
Thankfully, they mostly seemed to be on board, with only a few having some doubts, but he'd expected that. They were the most conservative, eager to keep the status quo, even though it was shattered by this point.
Caidold, one of his more bloodthirsty captains spoke up; he could always rely on him to advocate for violence. "Aye crush them." A mummer of agreement passed through the room, allowing Lanto to unclench his fist and relax just a little. He'd expected agreement but was not 100% sure. He might've forced it regardless, as with them gone, their position would be damn near unassailable.
And with momentum on their side, now was the time. Best to strike before the Brethren could do something foolish.
As the murmurs faded, Selina said. "Good, we are all in agreement then."
"Would it not be better to wait and secure our gains?" Molly asked, one of the more senior members, so was never shy about speaking up.
"Maybe," Lanto agreed. "But the risk is they might pull in outsiders, be that hired guns or another gang. I don't want to risk it. We hit them now."
Molly grunted, unconvinced, but kept the peace.
Selina picked the thread back up. "So, how soon do we start our assault?" She already knew this of course. They discussed it extensively during their pillow talk. That might have been odd to some, but it worked for them.
"We push now, to make sure they have no chance to prepare. But we start slow, to get the new recruits blooded. That gives us time to prep properly for the final assault. I don't expect much opposition, so we should be done with them in a week at most."
They discussed plans some more and were just running the meeting down, preparing to separate when Hann raised his voice. "One more thing. The mastiffs from the Stalkers."
"What about them? I figured they all got fed into the meat grinder.
"Most were." Hann acknowledged. "But enough survived that we could carry on breeding them."
"Not sure I want their damn breeding pits." Lanto muttered. "Even if we did, do we have anyone that could actually run it?"
"I have found several survivors that were a part of the program, not Stalker. Peggi checked 'em out, they're clean. If you're good with it, I want to get them started once more."
"Fine, write a plan to make sure we have the food, but I don't see why not. Go ahead for now." Selina said.
Lanto nodded in agreement. If they could field some of their own cyber mastiffs, even just as guard dogs, it'd be worth it.
"Good, we could use them." Rawna said. She was in control of the tunnels and their trade network.
"Explain." Selina said sharply.
"With all the chaos it hasn't been important, but the tunnels to higher up the hive have been getting more dangerous. More monster and mutant encounters. Not a crisis yet, but if it continues… I will want more bodies guarding the supplies and patrolling the tunnels."
Lanto cut in before Salina could. "We will talk after. I'll get you the men you need." The tunnels were everything. They couldn't afford to lose that link. While the drugs and relic hunting were profitable, the major source of their power and income came from the tunnel network. They could not afford to lose it.
"Is it just with our tunnels?" Selina asked.
"No. All the tunnels are having the same issues. Or at least the local ones are. It is even affecting the convoys coming from outside the hive. They lost one last week. They've beefed up security since then, but it might not be enough."
"Good catch. Lanto?
"Yeah, I've got it." he said, already working out the rotations. They'd need to set up more patrols, ranging further from their borders. They couldn't have word spreading the area around their turf was unsafe.
--
I was a bit disappointed by the ending of the war, or the lack thereof. Word had arrived that it was rolling straight into the next. Still, I'd been promised plenty of spoils by the end of it. They were still cataloguing everything and tallying up contributions, so it would be a while yet, but I was looking forward to my windfall.
I wasn't sure what I wanted exactly. It would be tech-related for sure, but what form that'd take, I didn't know. I'd been eyeing up some more specialised tools that were hard to get a hold of and maybe some armour, but I would have to wait and see.
One good thing was finishing off the Brethren of Bones shouldn't take long. We'd only just started, but were pushing deep into their territory with ease. One thing I had been oddly proud of was getting promoted to a soldier.
There wasn't much of a ceremony, just handing me a new armband. Still, it was a big step in the gang and one few ever managed. It wasn't just about years of service; you had to prove your worth and keep proving it.
It didn't get me much, a slightly bigger room, a few more perks and privileges. No, the most important bit was more of a say in what I did. That, and I was actually paid for my time. If I were on watch, I actually earned more than just food, unlike when I was a grunt.
Otherwise, not much changed.
Which was how I found myself staring down the scope of a rifle once more. I'll say this, I hadn't realised just how large and awkward my monster was. I mean, I knew it in theory, sure, but it wasn't until I'd started using this much smaller and less cumbersome autogun that I truly understood how much.
I was going to repair it, had already started, in fact. It was currently in pieces in my room, just waiting for some replacement electronics and coils before I could fully rebuild it. But I definitely now had some plans to upgrade it, streamlining it. I'd already noted down some parts I would need to upgrade, like the coils, by making them smaller but no less effective. Hopefully allowing me to slowly decrease the size of the coilgun to a more manageable size.
But the autogun would do for now. It was able to kill the Boners. I still chuckled at the nickname, childish, sure, but I still found it funny, no matter how many times I said it.
So far, all the Boners had been pretty lightly armoured. Case in point: the hiver in my sights right now. It was part of why we have made such good progress; after only a few days, their HQ, the Colosseum, was already in view.
The Colosseum was a massive compound, and as might be expected, the stadium was the centrepiece. Perfect for their blood sports: from gladiator bouts to beast fights. Both drew in massive crowds. That and the slave trade that ran through Glow Gate were their main credit makers.
A squawk on my vox told me we were advancing once more. Acknowledging it, I settled myself a bit lower to the ground, something I did as much as possible whilst sniping. It was a bit gross on occasions, sure, but a wet and slimy floor was infinitely better than being shot, so it was a small price to pay in my opinion.
The gun didn't have an impulse link, so I was forced to manually fire once more. I pulled the trigger, feeling the mechanical click, then, crack as the gun fired and moved onto the next ganger. I wasn't too worried about the fighting but kept my discipline: targeting the most entrenched and leaders first, then on cleaning up the chaff after.
As expected, there was not much resistance to be found, and we mopped up the Boners with ease. As the rest of the gang started to secure the street, picking over the bodies, I spotted movement at the end of the street, about sixty metres from them and nearly 140 metres from me. I was a bit surprised, since that street led directly to the Colosseum.
At first, I thought it was more of our lot. I knew several pushes were happening all over the city, driving the Boners back on all fronts. Then about a dozen figures stepped out of the side alley, their manacles clanking. It took me longer than it should have to realise they were slaves and Brethren of Bones stock too, judging by the branding on their faces.
Seeing that they were slaves, I dismissed them as threats. They were only dressed in rags—many of them were bleeding from still open wounds. The rest of the gang members must have thought the same, tensing up at first, then relaxing when they clocked what they were and went back to picking over the bodies.
I was just about to look away from them when something made me take a second look. Maybe it was the look of abject terror on their faces or the way they kept glancing behind them. The cuts on them were too deliberate, meant to bleed heavily but not kill. Sending further alarm bells ringing in my mind.
Either way, I felt something wasn't right, especially as they started to move towards us in shuffling, stumbling steps. My gut, that instinct that kept me alive on more than one occasion, had pricked up and was getting louder and louder.
It wasn't the first time we'd run into escaped slaves; we'd even welcomed them a time or two. But this wasn't that. They were running from something. My heart started to thump faster as I watched the fitter, healthier slaves break into a sprint, still fearfully glancing behind them.
Something was definitely wrong.
I was just raising my vox to call it in when a chittering shriek sliced through the ambient noise. It wasn't especially loud, but incredibly high-pitched, right at the edge of my hearing and reverberated oddly all around the street.
The hairs on the back of my neck shot up. Something was incredibly wrong with that sound, unnatural.
At this, the slaves pushed harder, finding some last burst of strength. Even the most wounded were trying to flee. The gang members below me were spooked too, shouting at each other and at the slaves to stop.
They were still thirty metres out, but even seeing the raised guns didn't dissuade them in the slightest.
I couldn't imagine what scared them like that or what made that noise. Then a second one rang out, and something massive rounded the corner they'd come from.
It was a grotesque thing, twisted, unnatural.
Just looking at it made my brain itch, like something was trying to burrow inside.
It stood three metres tall, even hunched over as it was. Its red, slimy skin was stretched too tight over its frame, one arm ending in a massive crab claw, the other in a writhing mass of twitching tentacles. Where its head should've been was just a mouth, lined with rows of needle-like teeth.
Covering the fleshy skin was a transparent chitin that clicked and scraped with every movement, like it didn't quite fit the thing's frame. Two oversized legs, frog-like and wrong-looking, jutted from its sides, but they were effective, propelling the monster rapidly towards us.
I didn't know what the hell it was, and I didn't need to. I just wanted it dead and as far from me as possible. The rest of the Court must've felt the same, as gunfire erupted below with all of us opening fire on the monster, now lumbering after the slaves.
Even as I watched, our shots pinging off its armoured hide. The few that hit something soft didn't penetrate deeply, and the wounds healed almost instantly.
The only thing slowing its advance was that it paused to grab each slave it came across, ripping them apart or devouring them whole, coating the walls in gore. But they were leading it towards us, each one a breadcrumb and with a sinking feeling, I realised that was the point.
One ganger was further up than the rest, not having retreated, unloaded his shotgun into the monster. The slugs bit deeply into it, and for a second, the thing looked hurt, or maybe just surprised that something had actually wounded it.
But that only lasted a second, then it released another shriek, far louder than before. Not in pain but in unbridled rage. The weird reverberations from its shriek came again, more pronounced this time, hurting my ears. By the way the shotgunner dropped to his knees, screaming, hands clutching at his head, it was much worse without a helmet on. The thing reared up to its full height, over seven metres tall, and went berserk, lashing out at everything in reach.
The wound writhed, then burst, more tentacles erupting from it, snatching the man and dragging him into a second mouth on its underbelly. One I hadn't seen until it pulled itself to its full height.
Seeing that, I could feel the unease ripple through the rest of the gang, mirrored in me, as we stared in horror as the man was eaten alive. I'd been firing the whole time, trying to do something. But this autogun was doing fuck all, only the occasional round sliding in a gap through its chitin, but most kept pinging off harmlessly. I missed my sniper. I was sure I could've hurt it. Maybe even kill it.
It squatted low, then bounded forward, crushing another ganger into a paste before lashing out at those nearby. No thought, no tactics, just a blind, mindless rage. As it turned on a ganger it had leapt past, it turned its back to me, and I spotted what I was looking for, a weak point.
I didn't hesitate, firing as fast as I could. The first two shots hit home. The rest pinged off harmlessly as the monster shrieked again, twitching as it did. Tossing aside the man in its claws, it snapped round searching for me, its tentacles twitching through the air like a snake tasting the wind.
Whatever it did worked as it let a shriek of triumph and leapt straight for me, ignoring the dozen gangers below. It smashed through the first floor of my building, the whole place groaning and swaying, threatening to collapse, but held.
"Ohhh, Shit!" I scrambled to my feet as its chittering shriek echoed through the building. I bolted for the stairwell, peeked over it and saw the bastard forcing its way up. "NOT that way then." I muttered, and panic started to bubble up.
Running around, I looked for a way out. I thought about climbing down, but I would not have enough time, not with the speed the thing was climbing up. I was twenty metres up. I heard its claws scraping through rockcrete on a floor or so below mine. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck." I muttered, getting desperate.
I was about to risk the climb anyway when I spotted it, a rooftop several metres away and lower than mine. The monster's stench was overpowering, drifting up from the stairwell. A smell of rotting and fermenting flesh that was somehow able to get through my helmet and filtration system.
As it thundered onto my floor, I broke into a sprint, tossing my rifle aside; it was dead weight now, and I hurled myself through a gap in the wall towards the roof below.
I landed hard, in a tangle of limbs, winded. Scrambling to my feet, coughing and spluttering through the dust, I turned just in time to see the monster pause at the window before throwing itself off after me. For a moment, I thought it wouldn't make it, but it slammed into the rooftop's edge, claws and tentacles latching on to start to pull itself up.
I thought about drawing my laspistal, maybe putting a few shots in its face, but thought better of it and bolted for the far edge, hunting for a way down. The door leading into the building and the stairs had collapsed. Swearing, I looked around and saw another roof across the street. It was a large drop, but as I heard the chittering rattle behind me and the crunch of rockcrete cracking under the monster bulk, I jumped.
I hit the rockcrete roof hard, barely keeping my footing. Glanced up, just in time to see the monster leaping after me. I threw myself out of the way, tumbling off the edge a heartbeat before a deafening crash and a plume of dust erupted behind me as it smashed straight through the roof and into the building below.
I bounced off an extractor fan and several other steel bars jutting out, then slammed into the floor with a sicking painful crunch. Somehow, the bumps on the way down had slowed me enough to survive the fall, even if it didn't feel like it. Gasping from pain, I forced myself to my feet. From inside the building came the shattering glass and grinding stone as the monster tore its way free.
Clutching my left arm, hanging uselessly by my side, I started to limp away, adrenaline dulling the worst of the pain. Although it still lanced up my side with every breath, I'd probably broken something, probably a few somethings.
With a roar, it burst from the building, showering concrete chunks across the street.
It started toward me. With little hope of escaping, I drew my pistol. Then gunfire erupted from down the street. I couldn't tell if the gangers still shooting were brave or fools, likely both. They were firing something heavier and were actually able to hurt it. Shrieking, its attention was diverted and it barrelled past me. I mostly managed to throw myself out of the way, but its tentacles clipped me as it passed.
Smashing into the wall, I crumpled to the floor. I could feel a burning pain where the tentacle struck me, its acidic saliva eating through cloth and skin. Groaning and seeing stars, I dragged myself up. Further up the street, I could see it slaughtering the last dozen or so gangers. Reinforcements, probably sent before the monster showed up, as they were a good way further up the street.
I scooped up my pistol from the ground, where it had been knocked, and forced myself to move—staying here meant death. I staggered into one of the narrow side streets and hobbled away. Pulling out the vox the gang had given me, I tried to raise someone, anyone, but the telltale static was absent. Looking closer, it was busted, fucked beyond repair. Tucking it back into my pocket in disgust, I switched over to the short-range vox built into my helmet. It barely worked across a kilometre on a good day, but I had to try.
Switching it to all frequencies, I sent, 'This is Aleric, anyone copy?'
I felt my heart sink as the silence dragged on. Just as I had given up hope, the vox crackled to life. 'Aleric, Aleric, this is Red Corsairs. Over.' Said a female voice.
'Red Corsairs, I hear you over.'
'Sitrep, over?'
I nearly laughed with relief. 'I was part of Breach Four, we got hit by a monster. Not sure what it was or who else made it out, but it tore through us.'
'Breach Team Four…' she said slowly and thoughtfully. I heard muffled voices but couldn't understand them over the static. 'Right, that's near us. And you're saying there's another one of those monsters?'
Another one? Ignoring the implications of that for now, I said. 'Yes. Over.'
'Okay good. Still nearby?'
'Yes, last I saw it, it was eating the dead.'
'Right, we are five minutes out. Keep it in sight, and we will move to engage it.' She commanded. 'You're still on the main street, correct?'
'Yes, it's still on the main street.'
'Okay good. Get a view on it and we'll be with you in a minute. Warn us of any changes.'
'Got it.'
As the vox fell silent, I wavered. Part of me was tempted to ignore her and make a break for it, not wanting anything to do with the monster. But I shook it off and moved up the street until I found a structure I could climb. It was a still mostly intact building, allowing me to climb to the second floor with a bum leg.
Limping to the blown-out windows, I poked my head out and could see the monster, still devouring the corpses, coating itself and the surrounding surfaces in blood and guts. Slumping against the wall, I placed my pistol nearby but made sure I was out of sight from the street.
I had no interest in attracting its attention once more.
The minutes trickled by. The monster, once content with the bodies, began to look twitchy, glancing around and I almost thought it was going to walk away several times. As a horrifying roar echoed in the distance, it too raised its head up and released a chittering scream in reply. With that, it began to lumber in the direction of the roar. I was about to call it in when the scraping of boots rang out from the Colosseum street.
The group that emerged were clearly abnormal, many of them heavily armed or grotesquely mutated. Two worn heavy armour that almost seemed to grow out of their bodies, fused into the flesh. The rest bore various degrees of mutations: horns, colourful skin, extra arms or claws.
They were easily some of the worst mutations I had ever seen. Even people who came up from the sumps or lived in particularly polluted or irradiated areas weren't that bad.
Those I could see clearly had strange symbols carved into their flesh. Most striking was the man at their centre, clad in robes, with a thin, sickly face and with an eight-pointed star carved into his forehead.
I wasn't the only one who noticed their arrival. The monster whipped around and charged at these new people. Looking remarkably composed, nervous but not scared, they looked at the robed figure standing at their centre. Pulling out an ivory baton etched with symbols, he began chanting.
As he chanted, the script running along the baton lit up with a sickly green light. With the glow growing steadily brighter, I felt a strange pressure building in my mind as the glowing symbols cast green shadows around him.
It kind of reminded me of my early days, when the sparks washed through me. Like flexing a long-forgotten limb, I pushed back against this presence, forcing it away from me. As soon as I did, the sense of unease and of being watched fell away.
Shaking myself, I looked back out. The monster had slowed, stumbling like it was drunk or in a trance-like state. I could see beads of sweat dripping down the robed man's face, his expression locked in deep concentration as he guided the monster forward.
As it reached them, they moved carefully around it, tense but controlled. The psyker pulled out some manacles inscribed with detailed script, clamping them around the monster's appendages where he could. Just looking at the script made my mind tingle. Once secure, they turned and started towards the Colosseum.
Making sure my vox was as quiet as possible, I voxed the Red Corsairs. 'Red Corsairs, Red Corsairs, come in.'
'Go ahead, Aleric.'
'The monster is still here, but there are eight heavily armed Brethren of Bones with it. They seem to have some control over the thing.'
'Very well, we are a minute out. Where exactly are they?'
'They are near the end of the street leading onto the final street before the Colosseum.'
'Okay, we will be coming from the west and should emerge about where the planned barricades were supposed to go.'
'Copy that.'
Not daring to move and barely breathing, I watched the cultists—because what else could they be. Even with my little experience I knew what to look out for. Most hive dwellers did. That and psyker. No one wanted to attract that sort of attention.
They had barely made it a dozen steps when, just as I was about to call it in once more, my vox crackled to life. 'Okay, we're in position just off the main street. We are fifty to sixty metres away from them. Where are you?'
'I am in the brown concrete building with the sign out front, ten metres from them.'
'Are you armed?'
'Yes. Pistol.'
'Good, we'll engage them—do what you can.' she commanded.
'Copy over.' I eased myself up into a kneeling position, readying my pistol, making sure to stay out of sight but ready to shoot whenever I saw an opportunity. It was awkward moving with one arm hanging limp. Every shift sent a lancing pain through me and brushing against anything was worse. Gritting my teeth, I pushed the pain aside and focused. I didn't have to wait long.
From down the street, I saw ten Court members, clearly veterans, and as they got closer, also champions. The lead figure wore decorated heavy carapace armour with three others in similar armour, although less ornate. The rest were equally well-equipped in light carapace or hardened flak armour. The last two weren't armoured at all but heavily augmented, almost more metal than man. Both carried heavy stubbers like I would my pistol, while the rest were armed with lasrifles.
The lead figure drew a chainsword and strode confidently down the street. Without any visible communication, the others fanned out, weapons rising as they released a withering barrage of fire. Two warriors flanked the leader, falling in beside him. One wielded a large sawn-off shotgun, and the other a huge axe to match his monstrous size.
The heavy fire sent the Brethren of Bones scattering, diving for cover, but not before two were cut down. The robed figure stepped behind the monster, avoiding the gunfire, then directed the monster back down the street. The beast was seemingly waking up, with each hit it grew more alert, moving faster, more fluidly and releasing a hissing in response.
If the carapace-clad warriors felt any fear from the monster's chittering scream, they didn't show it, still advancing at a steady pace. With the monster moving away, the cultist put away the baton and pulled out a fleshy orb that pulsed like a beating heart. The two in heavy armour moved beside the swordsman as they started to advance faster down the street.
Another cultist dropped from a well-placed shot. However, any rounds near the robed figure splashed against a shimmering shield. Ripples spread across the shield, flowing around him like ripples in a pond, proof that it fully enclosed him. As gunfire echoed from both sides, the monster neared the advancing champions, having worked itself into a blinding rage once more.
The monster leapt forward, devouring the space between itself and the melee fighters until it was just thirty to forty metres from the lead figure. There it slowed—hesitating, almost as if weakened. The three warriors pounced on this opportunity. The shotgunner closed in and fired two blasts, shredding flesh and exposing bone.
As the others closed in, the swordsman charged straight in, ripping through the grasping tentacles with his chainsword. The axeman slammed his weapons into the monster's clawed arm, cracking its shell. With a shrieking of pain, it staggered back, and for the first time I saw it flinch.
Not giving it any reprieve, the swordman moved in, stabbing his chainsword deep into the monster's belly and slicing upwards—ripping through flesh and organs. Blood spurted out, splattering him and the street around him. Meanwhile, the axeman had managed to flank the creature, slamming his axe down once more, this time into its leg, buckling it.
All of this gave the shotgunner enough time reload and fire directly at its face and gaping mouth. The blast ripped through flesh, scattering blood and teeth. With a shrieking the monster fell back, stumbling to the floor and swiping futilely to keep them away.
The wounded flesh rippled, mutating and regenerating, but unlike before, when healed with an almost unending vitality, now it was slow and sluggish, as if it didn't have the energy it needed. All the while, shots continued to ping off the monster and the warriors' armour as both sides exchanged fire.
While the battle raged, the psyker had kept advancing. He was now only a few dozen or so metres from the fallen monster, his shield still holding strong as it rippled under the shots striking it. The two heavily armoured cultists flanking him kept firing from behind the shield without hindrance.
The rest had advanced too, and now the cultists were moving past my position, giving me a clear shot at their backs. Ever so carefully, I eased out to get a clear shot at the rearmost gunman. I ignored the heavily armoured ones; my pistol would do little to them. Instead, I lined up my shot on one with horns, wielding a heavy stubber and fired three quick shots at his unprotected head before ducking back behind cover.
As I did, I saw his head burst, grey matter spraying in all directions as he dropped unnoticed at the rear. The sound of my laspistal blended into the cacophony of gunfire echoing up and down the street. After pausing to make sure I hadn't drawn attention, I poked out once more and fired on another lightly armoured gunman near the back.
This one was further away, so I aimed for his chest and fired another three quick shots. Ducking back, I peeked out to see him scream and collapse. Still unnoticed, I finished him off and searched for another target. As I did, I saw that the monster was dead, cut nearly in half, its blood and guts leaking onto the street to mingle with its victims. The swordsman had just stepped off the corpse, having stood upon it to finish the job.
By now, the sorcerer was only fifty metres away when he threw out his hand. A gout of sickly green flame erupted from his palm, jetting out towards the three warriors. Like with the monster, once it crossed into thirty metres of the swordman, it weakened, dimming and was nearly extinguished by the time it reached them.
Pushing through, they advanced rapidly. This seemed to surprise the psyker, who stepped back, unsure, his two guards moving to shield him. As the swordsman closed the distance, I noticed the psyker shield was also weakening; though it deflected incoming shots, the ripples no longer extended to cover his back.
Taking a chance, I leaned out further to get a clear shot and emptied a dozen or so shots at the psyker. They weren't incredibly accurate, but they did the job. The first few struck the shield, cracking it and allowing the remaining to pass through unhindered.
Two struck the psyker, dropping him as he screamed and writhing in agony on the ground, while the rest splashed harmlessly against his heavy armoured guards. But the shots had done their job, distracting them. Throwing myself into the room away from the window, just in time too, as it was lit up by gunfire.
I stayed down until the gunfire started to die down. Only then did I dare to move to the windows once more. Looking down, the rest of the cultists were dead or very close to it, bleeding out on the street. Staggering upright, the pain of my injuries returning in full force now the adrenaline was fading, I made my way out toward the Red Corsairs.
Moving very carefully, not just from the pain, but to avoid startling them and getting shot. I approached the swordmen, who I could only assume were in charge. They stood over the psyker's body, gesturing in silence as they spoke into their vox. Their helmets were sealed tight enough that I couldn't hear a word.
As I drew closer, I expected to feel something, but I passed the forty metres mark unmolested. It wasn't until I came within ten metres of the group that I felt a prickling sensation, accompanied by a wave of nausea. It was so subtle that I might have missed it if I wasn't looking out for it. Reaching out once more with that half-forgotten limb, I pushed the sensation back, just like I had with the psyker.
The swordsman turned towards me and, in a very female voice said. "Good shooting. I take it you're Aleric."
"Yes ma'am." I said to the swordman or swordswomen, as it turned out.
"Good. Rax, Drek, grab the psyker and Vira, finish grabbing the sample from the monster. There is nothing further we can do here." She said as she bent down, picking up the orb and baton. Now I was closer, I could see quite how revolting they truly were, leaking fluid and pus.
As we made our way toward safety, I was surprised by how secure I felt with them around me, guarding every angle. I tried to keep pace, but I was clearly flagging by the time the Fortress came into view, my battered body very much done. I was led inside, and with a quiet word from the swordswomen, I was seen to in short order.
Which I was especially grateful for, considering the number of people I could see coming in and waiting for treatment.
I had been right about the broken ribs. I also had a fractured and dislocated arm, concussion, internal bleeding and scrapes and bruises on top of my scrapes and bruises. All in all, I considered myself incredibly lucky. A couple of injections and setting of bones, and I was on my way. The surgeon did try to convince me of other procedures that would speed up the healing, but I didn't trust the look in his eyes.
I most certainly did not want to wake up with an extra limb.
I was given a week to be fit enough to fight, though I suspected I'd be called sooner if things got bad. If past experiences were anything to go by, I should heal much faster than expected. The early sparks work.
I couldn't regenerate limbs or heal in real time, but what would take others a week would usually only take me several days. By the time I was out, the Red Corsairs were already gone, so I headed to the mess hall for some food.
It was the next morning, after a good night's rest, that I sprang wide awake, suddenly remembering I had sparks to use. Diving into my mind, I found them swirling about. The first, gained from creating advanced technology, was as expected. But the second, earned by surviving a chaos spawn, was different. It carried an aspect that I had never encountered before. After prodding it a bit, I concluded it was aspected towards survival.
That made my decision easy. Only two ideas came to mind for this new spark: the first was enhancing my danger awareness, the second was an experiment. Remembering the pressure I felt, first from the psyker, then from Zardelle and how I instinctively pushed it away, I focused on that sensation. I wasn't expecting much, but I figured it was worth a try.
I had barely started before the spark slipped from my grasp, clicking into place on its own. I tensed, waiting for the familiar flood of knowledge. But instead of the usual torrent, it was only a trickle, less information and more practical experience. It felt as though I had been practising the techniques for years.
What I did receive was odd, far more mystical than I was used to receiving, and in a different language. It was hard to describe because I had an almost instinctive grasp of everything I learned through the fragments of knowledge, but if I paid attention, I could see the different dialects, and it was like nothing I had ever come across. Musical, rhythmic, with components that were not physical but emotional. It hurt my brain just thinking about it.
And yet, I couldn't have asked for better knowledge. It contained dozens of techniques; chants, memory constructs, breathing and meditation techniques, all building on top of each other. Mastering them would take years, even with the fragments, but that was fine. It was the journey that was important, not the destination.
At their core, these techniques strengthened belief in the self, making you more distinct, more individualised. That alone made it deeply heretical to the Church. But after learning what they did, I was more than okay with that.
The more you progressed in the techniques, the more resistant you became. It made the "self" a metaphysical anchor, harder to sway or corrupt—from psychic pressure, chaotic influence, or even Zardelle's aura. Not immunity, but resistance. And the spark hinted at even more advanced forms of this defence.
It wasn't just mediation. There were tonics, policies and rituals to aid in learning and refining the techniques. For example, 'The Postures of the Soul' required alchemy infusions to progress, but once mastered, allowed for profound emotional control; emotions flowed through you without disturbing your clarity. It made you far harder to read. Harder to influence.
Not to mention the technological hints, nothing concrete, just glimpses. But what I saw sent my mind racing with ideas.
Whatever the case, this spark had shown me it wasn't just technology I could gain access to, and it wasn't just coming from one source. I could also never share these techniques. They were deeply rooted in the belief of self, something I knew the Church of the God Emperor would be vehemently against.
Maybe one day, when I was more secure, I could teach a trusted few. But that was for the future.
I practised a few of the exercises, and they flowed naturally. One called the 'Meditation of 1000 Veils' was particularly relaxing. A combined memory and breathing exercise that solidified the 'ego' as structures in the mind, shielding it and the soul. It also stopped some of the soul's energy from leaking into what it called the Great Ocean. Why that was important, I didn't know, but it was a core component of the technique.
Letting it fade away, I turned my attention to the other spark, anticipation building.
I'd spent a long time umming and ahhing about how to use it. I'd eventually narrowed it down to three options. The first was just put it in the Technician fragment, enhancing it further. But it was already tier 3 and a long way off the next milestone, at least six sparks away. Then there was putting it towards bionics or healing in some way. Finally, and the way I was leaning, was to create a new knowledge fragment.
I had been encountering more and more technology lately, but in many cases, I had no idea what some of the components even did, or why they were arranged the way they were. It all seemed nonsensical to me, but I couldn't be sure. I could use a spark to gain the specific knowledge for a single device, but that seemed like a waste.
I could also gain broader knowledge, so I could make educated guesses. Something I had been doing to some extent with the Technician fragment. But the more esoteric items were far off and likely beyond the fragment's scope. I'd come across a few xeno artefacts which had been fascinating to break apart. Both fascinating and utterly mystifying.
So, I decided to use my next spark towards that, a way to understand technology as I dismantled it.
I expected it to require some effort, like many of the past sparks, but it was surprisingly smooth sailing. I'd lain down bracing for the tidal wave of knowledge, but when it arrived, it was incredibly brief and frankly disappointing. Just a few basic principles and that was it.
When I prodded it, all I got back was 'reverse engineering' and not much else.
Frustrated that it might've been a dud, I decided to test it by dismantling a cogitator or a computer as I knew it. That still got me, the almost random names some things were called. Shaking the distractions away, I turned my attention back to the cogitator. It was an advanced version, but also fucked beyond repair.
Hence why I had it.
As soon as I started to examine its internals, the fragment came to life. I was making connections I would have otherwise missed. Making leaps of logic that made perfect sense to me now, but I was pretty sure five minutes ago wouldn't. At its core, the spark helped me understand anything I dismantled. How much I could learn depended on both its complexity and my knowledge of the subject. But the key part was I could keep plugging away at it, gaining a little more insight each time.
On my first pass, I knew why the wiring was arranged that way. Then I saw why the whole system was set up like it was. I noticed some information about the connector and how it had been air gapped. From there, I learned why that was necessary, or what material they might have been made from and even got hints on how I might recreate them.
I couldn't build my own, not yet at least. If I tried, it would be a poor imitation at best. But time would change that.
I made quick progress on the cogitator; it wasn't particularly advanced, after all. By the end, I was grinning from ear to ear. It was exactly what I hoped for. I'd need to balance investing more sparks into it and maybe a new one to build some foundational knowledge, so they could work off each other. But it was a powerful fragment.
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