The First Continent was located in Heliosa's southern polar region, a permafrost ice field.
Under the cover of the Sixth Chapter, the Stormbirds and Thunderhawks of the First Chapter's 1st Company launched their assault on War-Hold Ninety-One.
Captain Dixon, peering through the narrow viewport, watched the Sixth Chapter's escort fighter formations engage in fierce aerial combat with Avenian fighters and Shrike Riders.
A black fighter screamed through a formation of three white Avenian craft.
It climbed with ease, leaving its pursuers behind.
Whoosh, whoosh...
Two white forms, swift as lightning, shot into view.
Beep, beep, beep...
A cascade of alerts on the tactical network:
[Shrike.]
[Size: One-quarter larger than the average on the Second and Third Continents; one-fifth larger than the largest previously identified individual.]
[Beak length: Approximately one-third longer than any recorded individual.]
[Speed: Ten percent faster.]
[...]
Dixon opened the company's vox channel: "We will be facing what my Lord has called the snow-shrikes."
"They are the largest, fastest, and most aggressive shrikes, born from the ice and snow of this southern continent."
As he spoke, two snow-shrikes, one on each side, caught up with a climbing Cyclothrathe-pattern Lightning fighter.
The left shrike swept its razor-sharp wing against the fighter.
The Lightning, relying on its superior maneuverability, slid in the tight space, evading the white blade.
Bang!
A long, sharp beak punched through the fighter's right wing, tearing open the metal.
Brutal aerial duels played out all around.
Black and white metal wreckage, scorched feathers, scattered.
The Stormbird's alarms blared, but it sustained no damage.
The Sixth Chapter's escort formation held their line, intercepting each incoming white lightning bolt.
Dixon clenched his fists. He watched another black fighter, trailing smoke, plunge into a snow-capped peak.
The deck shuddered beneath him. The hatch's warning lights shifted from red to green.
Dixon rose from his seat, leaping from the hatch.
Amidst the smoke and the shaking ground, a sharp cry rang out.
Five crystalline birds, like sculptures of ice, their wings spinning, broke the sound barrier with a crack.
They dove, leaving streaks of afterimages across the Shadows of Order's vision.
Snipers raised their weapons, unleashing a concentrated barrage at the tall, black-armored giant.
The bullets struck the thermal dispersion field of his Saturnine-pattern Terminator prototype, their metal surfaces blistering with black spots before disintegrating in short, sharp explosions.
The "Disciplinary Paladin," Dixon, raised his left arm and intoned in Dunnic: "I place a prohibition to flight in this place!"
The snow-shrikes felt a sudden weight, tilting and plunging from the sky.
Bang, bang, bang...
The full-fledged "Judge" raised his palm again and again. "Imprisonment!"
Viscous, translucent fluid flowed, enveloping the five snow-shrikes.
The "Disciplinary Paladin" charged towards the bridge, shouting: "Object of sanction: Avenian!"
A dawn-like light flickered across his black armor. His right gauntlet, the power fist, gleamed with a pure radiance.
The "Disciplinary Paladin" lunged, swinging his right arm. The power fist erupted in a blaze of blue light.
The golden dawn-light and the blue disintegration field exploded in a brilliant arc.
With every punch, the "Disciplinary Paladin" shattered the light black armor and the tough bodies of Avenian warriors into fragments.
The "Judges" followed their captain, whose every movement radiated pressure. Their power fists roared, shattering the Avenian's elegant, slender weapons.
Dixon led the charge, advancing in great strides.
He looked up at the sky, at the swirling black and white combat, the falling wreckage.
He turned his gaze forward, to the center point where bridges connected the mountains. Tactical data scrolled across his display.
[Distance: 261.4 meters. Height: 138.5 meters.]
The "Disciplinary Paladin" locked onto an Avenian officer with an ornate crest, commanding the defenses. He leaned forward, swinging his arm. "Death!"
His body merged with a strange power. The massive Saturnine-pattern Terminator prototype shot forward, trailing an afterimage.
The Avenian spun, his angular face registering terror.
He threw himself aside, trying to dodge.
But the blazing light, aimed at his head, struck with an unavoidable, unstoppable impact.
Bang!
His head exploded.
The full-fledged "Judge" raised his left arm at the surrounding Avenian warriors. "Scourge!"
Crack, crack, crack...
Invisible whips lashed out, shattering the light black armor fibers, flaying the elegant bodies, revealing the tough bone beneath.
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh...
Over a hundred snow-shrikes wheeled, diving towards the bridge.
The "Disciplinary Paladin," prepared, raised his arm, his remaining spirituality surging. "This place is forbidden to flight!"
Bang, bang, bang...
Snow-shrikes crashed to the ground, their beaks piercing the thick ice.
Riders, dazed, staggered to their feet. Their vision cleared to see black-armored warriors before them, gleaming fists descending.
Their bodies crumpled. Their last sight was of their faithful mounts, encased in amber.
...
As Nareth set foot on the First Continent, he saw over a hundred shrikes, piled in the valley below.
The "Mentor of Disorder" activated his spirit vision, staring at the white forms encased in amber.
'Their spiritual luster is brighter than the common shrike. They are better potion ingredients. None of the unlocked potion recipes at Sequence 5 or below require shrikes. This must be an ingredient for Sequence 4 or above.'
Nareth had expected this. The shrikes' speed surpassed that of the average Astartes, and their beaks could easily pierce power armor. They must be potion ingredients.
He looked at the hundred snow-shrikes before him, thinking of the two hundred and five intact shrikes obtained from the cleansing of eighty-one war-holds.
'For capturing potion ingredients, the "Judges" are the most capable!'
The shrikes' speed rivaled that of Lightning fighters, making them hard to hit with firearms.
Nuceria-anesthetic darts had yielded few successes, less than twenty.
'It would have been impossible to capture so many shrikes before.'
'My vision of every company having a "Judge" has been realized, greatly increasing the success rate of capturing potion ingredient creatures.'
Nareth's eyes gleamed as he looked towards the south pole. More prizes lay ahead.
He addressed Ramsey, whose face mirrored his own, following beside him.
"Only War-Holds Ninety-Two and Ninety-Three stand between us and the Phoenix's Crag."
"The Tenth Chapter's task is to break through War-Hold Ninety-Two."
"By Your will." Ramsey bowed, accepting the command. He led his Honour Guard, including Sasebo Tezuka, whose eyes gleamed with adoration as he gazed at his gene-father, towards the mountain peaks.
....
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