Gios Vyronii stared in shock at the giant wreathed in smoke, encased in a bone of adamantium.
Within the distorted, overlapping force fields, the Knights' barrage continually disintegrated.
At the core of this war machine was a human, or more accurately, what once had been human. A face with no eyes or mouth, etched deep within the helmet, seemed to stare back at him. It stood as tall as his Questoris-class Knight Magaera.
The war machine's three legs were arranged in biradial symmetry. It possessed three upper limbs, each armed with a multitude of weapons, so many that Dei-phagia's detection systems failed to identify them all.
Gios came to this conclusion because the machine fired two more silver beams, which were not among the twenty-five weapon systems previously cataloged.
Beep-beep-beep!
Amidst the urgent alarms, silver signals flooded his vision.
Two particle beams slammed into Dei-phagia simultaneously. The Knight Magaera staggered and fell to one knee. Gios knew from the machine-spirit's feedback: the ion-shroud was destroyed.
Amid the screech of hydraulics and the shriek of rubber belts, Straken surged forward.
A blade snapped from a sheath on the back of its right arm, thrusting towards Dei-phagia.
The Vyronii Knights charged frantically towards their Prince, desperate to aid him, but Straken was faster.
Suddenly, a streak of gold flashed across the battlefield. A blue-white radiance clashed with the blade.
Straken's arm shuddered; its right arm and the blade were knocked aside.
Straken turned its head. Pale light gleamed within its visor grille, making the vestigial organic remnants look sickly. It was withered like deadwood, blind, the muscular tissue that had been its eyes sunken into two sagging sacs. Copper wires, stained with black patches like corpse-rot, extended from its temples, plugging directly into the control system within its helmet.
The light in Straken's visor focused on the black-armored, golden-winged figure hovering in the air. Since his transformation's completion and his donning of the Reliquary War-Suit, no one had ever overpowered him in a direct clash.
His vox-grille crackled, an astonished voice echoing behind the steel-bar faceplate.
"The Primarch Nareth?"
Pistons hissed, grinding against inadequately lubricated metal sleeves.
Nareth saw Straken's entire armored suit swell. Electrical arcs activated pneumatic chambers, altering its form into an extremely thick cushion of gel. The metallic shoulders and backplate expanded and rotated continuously, fifteen weapons swiveling to target him.
Ten silver lights brightened. Particle beams lanced towards the Primarch first.
Though his golden wings were also composed of living metal, Nareth had no intention of tanking particle weapon strikes like Ferrus Manus might with his Silver Hands.
Nareth beat his wings, evading the attacks, and appeared instantly at Straken's left side.
A silver Power Fist wreathed in golden light smashed towards Straken's arm.
Straken activated more weapon systems. Dormant mechanisms sprang to violent life. Shields flickered, enveloping him in a purple aura of arcs. Claws, blades, a rotary saw, and a power clamp unfolded from its left arm, gleaming coldly.
The claws shrieked, snatching for his head.
Blades shot forth, aimed at his chest.
The rotary saw flew out to meet the Power Fist.
The power clamp sprang open, grabbing for his waist.
Nareth already knew the weapon systems of Straken's Reliquary War-Suit were not centrally coordinated. Thirty-six hundred years of warfare had ingrained combat experience into his mechanical core; calculations were made and attacks launched against enemies simultaneously.
Facing Straken's assault, Nareth did not dodge again. His arm continued its swing, his body dragging after-images as he charged forward.
The rotary saw was the first to collide with the shining golden light. In the clash of forces, it was the first to yield.
With a shriek, the rotary saw shattered into fragments.
Nareth continued to channel his psychic essence into the fist. The launched "Deathstrike" blow did not halt, continuing to smash towards Straken.
Simultaneously, the Primarch swung his right arm. The Sword of Vaul flashed, severing the claw's fingers and deflecting the blades.
Shattered metallic debris flew through the air, rapidly tearing and twisting into strands of metallic wire.
With a thought from the "Baron of Corruption," the dozens of condensed wire-strands shot towards the Reliquary War-Suit.
The "Baron of Corruption's" spirituality entwined the wires. The metal strands, through "Concepts Swap," became strands of mucus-coated spider-silk, drilling into the cushioning gel.
Straken felt the twenty-seven weapon systems he was mobilizing within the Reliquary War-Suit grow increasingly sluggish, as if filled with lead.
'Weapon systems malfunctioning?'
As he puzzled over this, Nareth's "Verdict: Death" landed on the purple energy field, and sparks flew.
Golden and purple lights vibrated violently. The dazzling radiance pierced the rust-colored clouds, illuminating the sky over Gardinaal's Crown.
The Primarch's muscles bulged. His strength merged with the peculiar power of the Power Fist, pressing down upon the Reliquary War-Suit.
The energy field yielded before his immense power, trembling as it emitted a blinding purple glare.
A purple energy wave detonated. The ferrocrete-paved road beneath the massive tripod's feet rapidly melted.
Straken's three legs rotated swiftly, adjusting position. His torso swiveled around the gimbal joints at his neck and hips, maintaining balance as he sank and tilted.
The balance he struggled to maintain was shattered an instant later as the Power Fist struck him bodily.
A large section of the Reliquary War-Suit's left side was torn away, rapidly transforming into new metallic wires in mid-air, flying into the constantly opening and closing valves on his harness.
The viscous spider-silk clogged the revealed hidden gunports, spreading inward. The accumulated silver light flickered and died.
Straken's damaged left arm detached with a burst of steam, clattering to the ground with a clang. Reserve weapons on the thigh unlocked, connecting to the severed limb.
At that moment, the third arm swung over.
The Primarch sensed nearly half of the Reliquary War-Suit's systems were compromised. It was time to end this.
Light and shadow flickered in his eyes. Telekinetic force surged forth.
Straken's leg-mounted arm and the third arm halted simultaneously. Every weapon system on his body instantly went dead.
He roared in fury. His Reliquary War-Suit was utterly unresponsive.
Having used Mechanical Influence to temporarily disrupt the Reliquary War-Suit, Nareth calmly swung the Sword of Vaul, severing Straken's head.
The remaining walker pilots and warrior-caste watched in stunned disbelief as their High Lord, the mightiest warrior of Gardinaal, was slain.
They had believed it impossible. Yet it had happened.
They stared fixedly as the black-armored warrior sheathed his sword at his waist, lifted the High Lord's head, and descended slowly.
Thud!
The first warrior-caste member dropped his weapon. Then others around him followed suit, one after another.
The battle for Gardinaal's Crown swiftly concluded, broadcast across all channels.
With the news that four High Lords had been captured and two slain spreading across the globe, the remaining Gardinaal resistance collapsed. Within two hours, they surrendered en masse
.....
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