A hail of gunfire pounded the exposed section of the wall, missing its target. The panicked mercenaries opened fire, aiming for the spot where Draz had been a second ago. The governor hadn’t made the mistake of jumping but was scrambling down the sheer wall on all fours, maneuvering between the crusaders’ shots, who had foreseen this development of events.

  They were too slow. The Abnormals used melee weapons not only out of habit, a holdover from the first days after the Extinction, when entire groups of altered humans would crack each other’s skulls over an untouched tin can. Some Abnormals were too fast for solid-ammo firearms.

  Draz’s mouth opened wide, illuminating the group with the orange flame burning in his throat. A second clot of heat erupted, baking the blood on his face and cutting off a terrified woman at the waist. A moment ago, she—a simple shopkeeper kidnapped from a village on the outskirts of the Land of the Oath—was standing next to Ruda, no doubt rejoicing at the chance to see her family. Then she was gone, and the smell of scorched meat wafted into Ruda’s nostrils.

  Bullets sparked near the hands of the swiftly moving Draz, missing the dodging bastard. Even Chernogor couldn’t wound this beast. The commander grabbed the explosives Farrin had collected and hurled them at the base of the wall, triggering an explosion with one well-timed shot. The shockwave delayed Draz long enough for three crusaders to cover his back with small red craters, then smoke and flames hid him.

  He burst out of the dark cloud, covering the distance to the group in a single stride. A backhand blow smashed the mercenary’s face all the way to the back of the man’s head and shattered Ney’s descending hammer. The gun barrel on Draz’s bracer pointed at Ruda’s face, clicking. Nothing happened. Cartridges rained down from under the governor’s leather jacket.

  “Every scratch on my body is worth more than a platinum bar, filth,” Draz croaked, hissing with every breath. “And my friends are priceless. Pay up.”

  Ruda dared to feel a thrill of inspiration as she heard the wheezing sound of damaged lungs. They had a chance to win, to overcome this enemy with sheer force of wounds, to wear him down. Planet, how fast he was! Draz vanished, sweeping Ney off his feet with a single movement.

  Even hearing Rustam’s cry and Ney’s demand to leap forward, she refused to admit defeat. Draz would reach her as she dodged, burying his long, strong fingers under the generator, ripping out her spine. Ruda had to kill him. Part of this desire stemmed from rage, but it had deeper roots, driven by disgust at this piece of human trash’s treatment of innocent lives.

  In response to this desire, another barrier within her crumbled.

  She felt the liquid, Draz’s blood, somehow aware of every movement in his veins, aware through this image dancing in her mind that he was moving behind her. A portion of the liquid changed direction, rising, and Ruda imagined his left hand raised to strike, ready to split her from shoulder to pelvis. Raising the axe vertically, she released the lower end of the weapon just as the blow descended.

  Ruda spun to the right, grabbing the pistol and feeling the edge of the palm cut through the axe handle. She slashed, cutting through the leather jacket and leaving a gash just above Draz’s nipple. The blade didn’t penetrate deeply, scraping against the supernatural subcutaneous armor.

  It’s nothing. The Land of the Oath wasn’t built in a day. Where there’s perseverance, there’s a way.

  “Have I earned enough for a mansion, or will that be after your head rolls on the ground?” Ruda asked, striking his neck with the shortened axe.

  “I truly liked you, Ruda.” Draz parried the blow. “I keep my cruelty under control. Honesty and a respectful ‘no’ would have been enough. For the death of my comrade, for the harm done to my city, for your secrets, I sentence you. First you’ll see the death of your gang, and then...” Draz turned his head toward Ney. The light from his throat colored the governor’s teeth orange.

  “Yeah, right, Judge. Objection!” Ruda pressed the pistol to his wounded belly, pulling the trigger.

  Draz darted to the side; the shot drew a red line down his torso, and the spat-out gout of heat slammed into the wall, melting a path down to the next section. Chernogor lashed out with his electro-whip, trying to grab the governor’s thick neck. Draz ducked, missing the crackling death above him, and rolled back, escaping the dense fire of the mercenaries.

  Yeshua’s shot cut the skin under the rising man’s eye. Draz snorted, wisps of steam escaping from his nostrils, obscuring him in a thick cloud. Two beams erupted simultaneously from within the steam, slicing a chunk of Farrin’s biceps and killing another mercenary from the group attempting to surround the governor. The second beam pierced the armored transport, leaving gaping holes in the chests of two civilians.

  But how?! I felt him; the bastard was facing me. Ruda lunged at the fog, not needing her ability to sense its gaze. Draz burst forth, closing in on the retreating mercenaries. With a punch, he broke Bahran’s arm at the wrist and elbow, shattering the bones, and reached for the others.

  “Get back! He’s ours!” Ney barked, plunging his weapon into the giant’s side wound, forcing him to exhale sharply. “Your job is to avoid danger and assist the others.”

  Their allies didn’t need a second invitation; they scattered.

  Ney unleashed a flurry of stabs on Draz, using the shaft of a shattered hammer as a spear. Sparks sparkled on Draz’s gloves, and his gaze briefly flashed with surprise at his opponent’s speed. Ruda attacked the governor from the side, forcing him to fight facing the city and pushing the bastard toward the gates. Chernogor’s whip struck over the crusaders, leaving cuts on Draz, and Yeshua’s well-aimed shots stopped the enemy’s attempts to counterattack.

  We settled into a rhythm. Ruda breathed calmly. Attack, feint, lean back to avoid an elbow strike. She aimed for the veins on his arms and legs, not greedy, fighting as one with Ney. No rush, no greed. We’ll calmly cut this carcass into pieces.

  Suddenly, Draz turned to face her, opening himself up for Ney’s attack. Both fists struck, tearing metal from Ruda’s arms. Her fingers went numb from the monstrous blow. Draz winced, closing his eye as the whip slashed across an eyelid. His ear lit orange, emitting a thin beam of heat that grazed Ney’s shoulder. Taken by surprise, Ney stepped back, and his foot slammed into Ruda’s stomach, lifting her off the ground.

  Mommy. Ruda vomited into her helmet. A powerful kick drove the plate into her stomach, pressing her insides against her organs and forcing her stomach into contact with her spine, causing spasms of pain throughout her body and blackouts. She fell to her knees, hearing only the ringing in her ears as vomit leaked through the crack in her visor, shards of metal falling through her clasped fingers.

  Trapped in darkness, she sensed another blood rush past her, familiar and reliable. The carrier of this fluid attacked Draz, pushing the governor back. Planet. Dad. Mom. Don’t abandon me this time. Ruda extended her hand, scrabbling at the earth in an attempt to stand. Pain. Burning agony spread from the point of impact, mercilessly tearing at every nerve. Ney. Yeshua. Rustam, Chernogor, and everyone else.

  If she didn’t rise, there would be more victims. Ruda rose to one knee, begging for a miracle, ready to sacrifice her life for her friends and the people she trusted. This was more than duty. She didn’t want to see her families ruined. In desperation, she reached for the power she had rejected for so long.

  And in the corner of her mind, a seething, enraged, and loyal being grasped the outstretched, intangible hand, sending a surge of strength through her muscles. A fog of pain still clouded Ruda’s vision, but as she rose to her hooves, she saw the world with a different perspective. Tiny droplets of liquid outlined her surroundings. Sweat created the outlines of bodies, like the echolocation of a bat, only this image was updated in real time.

  Fluid flowed from Chernogor’s head. The commander had been struck by a fist, surviving thanks to the implanted plate. Despite the brutal wound and the loss of his helmet, he continued to press his attack, coiling part of his whip around his waist and using it as a knuckleduster. Ney fought nearby, limping from the blow he had taken. Ruda could see blood vessels in his leg, near where the bone must have cracked. Yeshua came around the flank, and she felt Draz’s airways expand, displacing the veins. Then an unknown movement slid toward the side of his head.

  “Yeshua, get back!” Ruda shouted, trusting her premonition.

  Yeshua stepped out of the line of fire from the governor’s ear just in time to survive. His faceplate melted, leaving a burn on his face, but the young sariant calmly reloaded his pistols and opened fire.

  “How...” Draz croaked. Ruda charged at him, slamming her axe into his groin. The blade clanged, bouncing off his gauntlet. “You. Why are you still alive?”

  Ruda’s vision gradually returned. She blinked back tears, chopping repeatedly, keeping pace with Chernogor not through skill but through increased speed and strength. The old man was incredible. Despite the blood flowing from beneath the protruding plate on the flattened part of his forehead, Chernogor ducked under the blows, dodging uppercuts, never retreating further than necessary. His fist, wrapped in an electro-whip, struck Draz’s pelvis, tearing off shreds of flesh and saving Ruda and Ney from certain death. Each missed blow from the tyrant created meter-deep gouges, causing the ground to tremble.

  The ability to sense fluids gave Ruda the advantage she needed. Knowing how the tendons and muscles within Draz contracted, unclenched, and moved allowed her to begin dodging the swift attack early, offsetting the difference in speed. Every time she had to duck, she remained aware of the governor’s location.

  But even with this advantage, she would have perished if not for Ney’s precise thrusts and Yeshua’s fire, distracting this tireless behemoth.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “You weren’t this strong before. You have a power...” Draz whistled. “Unexpected. You’re transforming. But why wear small armor? Your new growth is destroying it, depriving you of any support. Why aren’t you in your true form all the time? Ah... This isn’t a permanent transformation. You need a catalyst. I don’t know what it is, but you’ll soon run out of juice.”

  Unbeknownst to him, Draz’s taunt held a kernel of truth. Ruda was returning to human form as the moisture disappeared from the skin. The heat emanating from the governor’s throat threatened to dry her out.

  Behind them, a truck’s engine roared. The vehicle shot forward, its side sending sparks flying from the wall. Draz leaped in front of the APC, crushed the driver’s cabin with a kick, and opened his mouth wide, vomiting heat all over the driver.

  “No one will escape!” he roared, turning in a whirlwind of blows, using the armored car as cover from the gunfire. “Behold the result of your actions, bitch!”

  Orange light flashed past the deflected Ruda, striking the ground near a group of civilians, instantly creating another geyser of blazing heat. Steam touched the unprotected skin of the adults, searing the screaming men to the bone. The Insectone holding Rustam lost a leg and staggered, collapsing into a bubbling mass. Bahran launched needles at Rustam, without penetrating his armor but giving both men enough momentum to stagger back. He, Farrin, and several other brave mercenaries rushed to save their allies, groaning from the heat.

  Draz opened his maw again.

  Ruda cast aside her safety, smashing him in the jaw with the axe head. Heat flew over the civilians, but the governor’s fist slammed into her side, cracking a rib.

  “I’ll watch you die,” Ruda swore.

  “Charmed.” Draz grinned, parrying Ney and Chernogor’s attacks. “I don’t know what kind of crap you unleashed on the defense coordination center to neutralize the turrets, but your tricks are over.”

  Ruda’s heart skipped a beat as she heard the clatter of hundreds of feet. Rabor’s guards burst out of the main gate, led by Feda in damaged armor and an unknown figure in a lighter version of dark power armor, armed with a saber and rifle. One lens of the helmet cracked, revealing a slanted gray eye.

  “Keep your distance! I don’t intend to lose anyone else today. Open fire,” Draz ordered, pushing the axe aside with his jaw.

  “But you’re in the line of fire...”

  “I don’t give a damn, Souzan! Throw them into the moat with a volley! Draz is the winner!” The governor laughed.

  The front ranks of soldiers dropped to one knee, Feda soared into the air on the thrusters of his armor, and Souzan raised her saber. Draz lunged forward, knocking Ney aside, evading Yeshua’s shot by leaning, kicking Chernogor in the leg, and raising his clasped fists over Ruda, bending the axe with his force. Unstoppable. His muscles tensed, twisting his grin into a bestial grin and erasing any semblance of humanity from his face.

  Won’t make it. I... Dad, Mom, my family... I’m sorry. I’ve failed everyone. They will die in this kingdom of slavers, next to that disgusting, toxic river, having accomplished nothing and failing to save a single soul. The unfairness of the situation made Ruda want to howl. They shouldn’t have taken Rustam with them.

  Draz’s head jerked back, and he slammed into the wall, leaving a mark that sent cracks running. Ruda heard an incessant cracking sound, like the buzzing of a rattle, the intensity of which shook fragments of her visor and made her ears ache. A black figure flew in front of her, striking the governor with its limb and cutting a jagged cut down his shoulder. A purple star flickered briefly before her eyes.

  A wave rolled across the ground as comets fell from the sky, landing among Draz’s soldiers in columns of flame. The explosion hurled human figures and comet shards aside. A mangled helmet with a head inside rolled toward Ruda’s hooves. Only when she heard Ney’s laughter and Chernogor’s greeting did she understand there had been no explosion. The cosmic bodies did not pierce the firmament, miraculously falling right here.

  Seven crusaders used jetpacks for extended flight, arriving at the crucial hour. What she thought was an explosion turned out to be flames escaping from their nozzles. Commander Eloise lifted a raider impaled on the jousting lance, hurling the dying man at Feda as he flew past. The heavy launch pack disappeared into the woman’s back, passing through a slit in her dark scarlet cloak. The last knight in her squad nodded to Yeshua, bringing his mace down on Souzan’s saber.

  Eloise raised her round shield, blocking a grenade. She tore through the explosion, breaking a soldier’s visor with a single blow from the shield’s edge, and impaled the retreating grenadier on her lance.

  Using her shield as a hammer, the commander freed the weapon. An electric charge played cheerfully from its tip, jumping to the nearest raider, frying him inside his armor. A rapid-fire cannon appeared from under the collar of the commander’s cloak, protruding straight from her gorget.

  Four crusaders fought alongside them, instantly forming a perfect circle. Two of them were sariants, but they all wore identical black power armor, devoid of even a hint of heraldry. They were Commander Jake’s squad, recruited from Trolls willing to forgo any honor to serve in the magister’s personal guard, acting as their leader’s champions. Szarel preferred not to divert the order’s valuable resources, relying on his gift, and the squad pledged their allegiance to the candidate for future leadership.

  After years of brutal training and countless meditations, these Trolls acted in perfect synchronicity, marching in lockstep and cutting a path through their panicked opponents. Their maces struck without mercy. Whenever they encountered an Abnormal capable of engaging them in combat, a crusader would initiate combat, using his mace to block the enemy’s weapon, while his two comrades would instantly finish off the distracted bandit.

  The enemy’s fire pierced a sariant’s breastplate, but the Troll didn’t even gasp or slow down. Silent in battle, these reliable individuals showed no signs of socializing except in civilian life.

  Today, a different leader led them. Golden eagle-shaped pauldrons rose above the combatants’ heads, and a heavy, dark green cloak whipped around, knocking a pistol from a raider’s hands. A mace flew after, breaking a jaw as sharp spikes reached the brain. The enemy’s body spasmed in death throes, thrown upward by the force of the blow. El Satanini walked in his shadow, firing at the machine gunners trying to take cover behind the gate. The corpse’s fall bought him respite enough to replace his clip while the shots struck the deceased raider.

  “Unknown persons are assisting the civilians. Sitrep?” El Satanini crushed the shoulder of another brave fool.

  “Allies! Local forces have joined us, Commander!” Ruda reported, retreating.

  “Acknowledged. Use the transport for evacuation; we will provide cover.” The commander glanced at Ruda, saying nothing about her face or her seething voice.

  Ruda rushed to help drag people into the armored vehicles, making no distinction between civilians and allies.

  “I can help.” Rustam tried to break free from the unconscious Insectone’s grip.

  “Remember how to apply a tourniquet and wrap bandages?” Ruda freed him and tossed him a first-aid kit, grabbing Bahran and Farrin and throwing them into the back. “Do what you can; ask these lazy bums for advice...”

  “And you can go to hell,” Farrin muttered.

  “...Stick your nose out, and I’ll cut it off!” Ruda threatened the boy.

  She turned, finally seeing the man who had saved her life from Draz’s fists. A dark cloud fluttered around the governor, mercilessly slashing at him. Commander Jake had left his cloak on board. The membranes of his outstretched wings glittered in the morning sun and the glare of gunfire, taking on a rainbow hue. His legs were locked together, forming a single limb. His clawed hands slashed at exposed areas of Draz’s body, getting closer to his veins.

  A beam of heat shot upward, missing the commander, who had masterfully maneuvered behind the governor. Draz’s ear turned toward the civilians, turning orange. Jake lashed his tail at the giant’s legs, upsetting his balance, and the beam sank into the ground. The commander’s wings flapped, merging into a single, blurred whole, holding him aloft and producing a relentless rattle.

  “I usually offer my victims a bout on equal footing, befitting gentlemen, but since you’re no gentleman, I’ll simply slaughter you without giving you a chance.” The helmet’s speakers conveyed the lively thumping of mandibles. “I recommend not resisting. You’ll suffer less.”

  “Never challenge any of the El-Farrahs to a duel,” Ruda muttered. “Never.”

  “Oi, sea lion Ruda, fear has no place between kin! Eight sparring matches with me upon your return!” Jake shouted. “Plus joint community service in the Commune.”

  Thunder tear me apart. Ruda shuddered, making sure Ney was okay. She was sure she wasn’t a racist, but Jake filled her with primal terror at the moment. Transformed into something like an armored dragonfly, he fluttered around his victim, dodging punches that damaged the walls, attacking, turning his neck at impossible angles, hearing the slightest noise, and weaving around bullets, noticing them with his unusually sharp vision.

  Nothing about him suggested humanity. He resembled an insect grown to an enormous size, incredibly dangerous and voracious. The prospect of public works in the narrow, claustrophobic tunnels of his people sent shivers down her spine.

  “Save yourself; I’ll hobble along somehow,” Chernogor breathed, sitting up. His armor was crumpled, his helmet missing, and blood flowed profusely from the laceration created by the protruding skull plate.

  “Saving myself, sir, yes, sir!” Ruda grabbed the commander, hurling him feet first across the battlefield into the open hatch of the armored car.

  He could later demand her expulsion from the order for disrespect. She had no intention of allowing anyone else to perish here.

  “I’m tired of your buzzing.” Draz opened his mouth, releasing a cloud of snow-white heat that melted the torn helmet.

  Jake rose higher, grabbed a hand cannon from his belt, and fired. The shell exploded in the superheated mist, showering the governor’s back with molten metal. Ignoring this, Draz stared at Eloise, forming an ‘O’ with his lips. The grenade explosion staggered him, and he turned to Yeshua. The fingers of the crusader’s wounded hand trembled, missing the grenade pin.

  “Burn.”

  “Follow your own advice, pig!” Ruda squealed, leaping at her friend.

  She didn’t think, acting on pure instinct. Ruda slammed heavily into Yeshua, knocking him off his feet, and groaned from the scorching heat that melted the generator on her back and immobilized her armor. Then she was tossed into the air when Yeshua’s grenade detonated, landing next to the first fumarole. The edges of the pit crumbled into the cooling mass. Her entire body ached. Ruda tried to stand, but fatigue and her wounds had taken their toll, and she could barely lift her hand.

  Ney grabbed her gauntlet, pulling Ruda to her feet.

  “Thank you. Where is Yeshua?”

  “There he is, getting up.” Ney threw her over his shoulder. “Yeshua, it’s time to leg it.”

  “Yeah...” the sariant said, slowly stomping toward the armored vehicle. Flakes of soot fell from his chest, and fire danced on his pauldrons.

  “Bow.” Ruda heard a voice. Pleasant, confident, it came from a helmet lying near the frozen governor. The unknown voice spoke loudly enough to be heard but not over the din of battle. “Draz the Triumphant. If you wish to survive. Kneel.”

  At the top of the fortress wall, between the parapets, west of the gate, a bright point lit up. A kaleidoscope of colors mingled red and blue, yellow and green. The beam illuminated a knight from Jake’s platoon and narrowed, shining on his head, connecting the crusader with the unknown source. The light flared with tripled intensity, severing the Troll’s head from his shoulders and burning a hole in the ground framed by perfect glass edges.

  “Now the brat,” the voice said.

  The beam of light enveloped Yeshua, drawing Draz’s shadow past him. The governor’s face changed, the rage vanished, his tongue licked his lips, and fear flickered in his eyes. He dropped to one knee as the bright beam narrowed. Yeshua turned, hearing Ruda and Ney’s screams. He tried to leap to the left, but the light followed him.

  Eloise crashed into the sariant, knocking him aside. A column of light flared, grazing the skin on Draz’s shoulder, sending deadly energy through him, and Eloise’s chest disintegrated, revealing working components, hissing wires, and fading batteries. The spear sank into the ground, and the commander’s head fell into the dirt.

  When the light faded, Ruda saw Yeshua. He was falling, missing the right side of his body. His eye had evaporated in its socket, the skin from his nose to his skull a hideous amalgam of black and red veins. His right arm, shoulder, and lung were gone. He wheezed unconsciously, struggling to breathe. The knee bones of his right leg pierced the crust of baked meat.

  “Two in one,” the voice chuckled.