Clang! Clang!
The alarm bell and horns pierced the sky. The guards on the wall gripped their weapons, staring in terror at the horizon.
Above them, the clouds churned like boiling ink beneath a blood-red sky.
Ash and smoke choked the air. Waves of scorching heat rolled in like invisible tides, one after another, pressing in from every direction.
Along the horizon, a continuous line of orange flame devoured the land.
Columns of black smoke speared upward into the heavens. Captive lizards scattered in blind panic. Villagers who failed to flee in time vanished beneath the roaring sea of fire.
Scavengers wheeled overhead, already waiting for the feast.
....
"Only through tempering can fine steel be obtained!"
"We can't let this continue! This madness must be ended!"
"Our veins may not flow with Nocturnean blood, but we are still one of you! We are still part of Nocturne! We will not stand idly by while our own people suffer!"
"What about you? "Will you cower for the rest of your lives… or stand as heroes, even if only for a few minutes?"
Vulkan and Ferrus climbed onto the huge rock in the central plaza, looking down at the restless crowd below.
Ferrus's voice rang out like sparks bursting from a forge. "Grip your weapons tight, people of Nocturne!"
Vulkan's voice followed like the tolling of a great bell, "We do not ask you to charge blindly into battle. Only stand with us!"
"These xenos have been driven back before. Today will be no different!"
"Let the Dusk Ghosts taste the fury of Nocturne. Let them remember this day forever!"
More and more people gathered in the central plaza. But the two giants' voices gradually calmed the crowd's turmoil.
Just then, a tall youth stepped forward from the mass of people.
"I will follow the two lords."
Ferrus recognized him immediately.
Gabriel Santor.
He was not a Nocturnean. Three years earlier, he had fled through the Webway, a survivor from Medusa's Avernii Clan.
The Nocturneans looked at this youth who had stepped forward.
Shame flickered across many faces.
Even an exile from another world was willing to fight for them. How could they hide underground and cling to life like frightened animals?
A thunderous voice broke the silence.
The blacksmith N'bel's voice exploded like thunder, "What are you afraid of? At worst, we die together with those xenos!"
Gorf raised his spear high, "People of Nocturne! Together we stand! Grip your weapons and show these xenos our courage!"
Vulkan and Ferrus exchanged glances. They simultaneously leaped from the huge rock, raising their war hammers to the sky.
"Elderly, women, and children, take shelter in the underground city immediately! Our parents will protect you!"
"All who can wield a weapon, follow us!"
"We will drive the xenos from our world!"
The crowd parted like a tide, clearing a path for the two giants.
Their towering bodies moved through the crowd like two moving fortresses. Even the smallest child could glimpse their mountain-like figures.
Their mere existence was enough to ignite the flames of battle in people's hearts, to straighten the spines of the wavering, to make the cowardly grip their weapons.
Their footsteps were as heavy as war drums. The crowd solemnly followed this rhythm, surging towards the wall.
Vulkan and Ferrus stood atop the wall. Outside the city had become a scene of hell.
Herdsmen fled in panic across the wasteland like scattered flocks, desperately surging towards Hesiod, even if this Sanctuary City could not shelter them.
Drukhari, riding bikes, glided like ghosts across the scorched earth, playfully chasing the scattering humans.
They pursued the fleeing humans with playful cruelty. Each time a barbed net launched outward, it dragged another screaming victim into the air, the spikes piercing the flesh were accompanied by the Drukhari's laughter.
This massacre was just a hunting game for their amusement.
When the villages outside the city were reduced to ashes, the xenos turned as one, like sharks scenting blood, and sped toward Hesiod's walls.
For millennia, whenever Drukhari invaded, the residents of the Sanctuary Cities would cower in the underground cities like frightened ants.
They shut their eyes, covered their ears, and pretended the nightmare above did not exist.
Only when the raiders departed, only when the scent of blood faded beneath wind and sand, would they crawl back to the surface and begin again among the ruins.
Vulkan tightened his grip on his hammer.
"No more," he said quietly. Silver veins faintly surfaced beneath his dark skin, like glowing runes. "I promise."
"I promise you too, brother." Ferrus gazed at Vulkan. "I will never let you fight alone!"
The two brothers exchanged a silent look, their eyes resolute.
Their father was within the city. But they could not save everyone.
Children could not remain forever beneath a father's wings. In time they would hav to leave the nest.
The dawn of Nocturne had to be forged by Nocturneans themselves, with blood, with fire, with sacrifice.
Only then would they cherish it.
Only then would they truly awaken.
Hundreds of people gathered around them, Nocturneans and Medusan remnants alike.
They held hammers, spears, swords, and handcrafted forestry rifles. They were united. Their morale was soaring. All because they had stood among them!
The Drukhari, clad in sinister garb, drove their bikes but didn't use their advanced weapons.
In their eyes, this was a hunt, not a war.
Many had not even brought guns. Doing so would invite mockery from their kin.
They preferred blades.
Slitting throats and listening to the final screams of prey.
Drinking in pain as sustenance.
Pain healed their wounds.
Torture filled the emptiness inside them.
Blood quenched their thirst.
This was the Drukhari way.
With cheetah-like grace, they scaled the walls of Hesiod.
Seeing the gathered crowd caused no panic. Instead, they chuckled and grinned at each other, morbid pleasure flickering in their eyes.
The more the prey resisted, the more excited they became!
Mere slaughter was boring. The prey's futile struggles were the most delicious seasoning in the hunt!
The hunters, called Wyches, landed on the wall with artistic flair. Their slender limbs were clad in form-fitting leather armor. Blades woven into their braids glinted with deadly coldness with every movement.
Every gesture carried arrogance towards mortals, yet also radiated terrible beauty.
Their eyes burned with bloodlust.
As they charged towards the crowd, they let out chilling, wicked laughs.
Vulkan answered with his warhammer.
CRACK!
The Wych tried to dodge, but the hammer precisely struck her head.
With the crisp sound of shattering bone, her beautiful face collapsed under the blow. Bone fragments, blood, and brain matter mixed and burst.
The Drukhari's body crashed heavily against the battlement like a ragdoll, leaving a sticky trail of blood on the stone, slowly seeping through the cracks.
"Die, xenos!"
Ferrus's roar exploded like thunder. His towering figure charged into the xenos like a raging hurricane, sweeping away all before him.
He swung his warhammer, like a war god descending.
Each blow carried devastating force. Wherever he passed bodies shatered.
Skulls burst like ripe fruit.
Chests caved inward under the heavy blow, their bones splintered.
No enemy could withstand the Primarchs' raging blows. These Drukhari, who recklessly slaughtered mortals, were like fragile dolls before them, easily torn apart.
The sight ignited the defenders.
Like a blazing torch, the Primarchs' fury set mortal courage alight.
Only a few Drukhari broke through Vulkan and Ferrus's line. But these xenos, who by chance escaped the Primarchs' warhammers, soon found themselves engulfed in the mortals' vengeful fury.
The Medusan remnants' forestry rifles spat fire. Bullets poured out like rain.
Though the Drukhari dodged with inhuman agility, the dense barrage left them nowhere to hide.
Whenever a xenos staggered from a bullet hit, the surrounding Nocturneans would surge forward like a tide, smashing xenos' heads with hammers, piercing enemy chests with spears, hacking those elegant hunters into bloody ruin with crude blades.
Their weapons were primitive. But the fury of millennia, of slavery, of slaughter, of terror beneath Drukhari raids, finally erupted in a single moment.
Amid the mortals' thunderous battle cries, it seemed as if Nocturne itself had risen and would completely end their nightmare.
"Ferrus!"
Vulkan's shout cut through the chaos of battle. Ferrus understood instantly.
He stepped forward without hesitation, his towering frame planting itself before his brother like a living wall.
The warhammers they had forged for each other were long since ruined. The brutal clash had twisted them beyond use. No matter the Primarchs' skill as smiths, mortal iron could not endure the edge of Drukhari blades. Only mangled fragments remained.
But the Primarchs still had their iron fists!
CLANG!
The glaive blade flashed coldly in the air. This sword, capable of easily cutting through any sturdy armor, was now firmly caught in Ferrus's iron hand! Ferrus's left palm firmly gripped the vibrating blade.
His right hand shot forward.
CRACK!
The sound was sickening.
Ferrus seized the Drukhari by the head, and ripped.
The xenos's head, along with a bloody section of spine, was ripped from its body!
The xenos' skull tore free along with a length of bloodied section of the spine.
Neural fibers dangled and twitched in the air like severed roots while blood erupted from the open neck like a fountain.
Ferrus didn't even pause. He hurled the head in his hand like a cannonball into the enemy ranks, knocking down three charging Drukhari.
The Primarch followed with a powerful side kick, sending the headless body flying dozens of meters like a torn sack.
"Again!" He roared, charging forward. The famed agility of the Drukhari suddenly seemed laughable before him. Their graceful cruelty faltered. Hunters froze like startled prey, seized by a primal terror. Even fleeing became difficult.
.....
While Ferrus was wreaking havoc, Vulkan's gaze locked onto the invading vessels hovering in mid-air.
The Drukhari arrogantly hovered these vessels low over the city walls. They wanted a close-up view of the bloody slaughter, to cage the surviving mortals.
Every Drukhari wanted to personally taste the pain. So they didn't even leave many guards on the vessels. Only two, including the pilot.
They had come expecting a slaughter. They had not expected resistance.
When Vulkan bent his knees and leaped, his mountain-like body shot towards the vessel's deck like a cannonball.
The vessel tilted violently from the impact. Drukhari on the deck stumbled. The Primarch gave them no time to react.
SHKK!
The pilot's body was like fragile paper in his hands, torn in two. Blood sprayed across his dark skin.
Vulkan pivoted and threw another heavy punch. With a thud, another Drukhari's chest collapsed inward, organs bursting across the deck.
The uncontrolled vessel spiraled and crashed to the ground. But Vulkan had already torn open the cage with his bare hands, allowing the imprisoned mortals to escape after the crash.
With lightning reflexes, Vulkan jumped onto another turning vessel. The Drukhari on this vessel finally realized the crisis. He screamed and raised his poison crystal rifle. Deadly crystal rain poured down on the Primarch like a storm. Vulkan simply crossed his arms in front of him.
DING DING DING!
The poison crystals shattered against his skin, not even leaving a white mark.
Vulkan punched through the Drukhari's head with one blow. Then he charged at the pilot. As the Drukhari tried to draw his poison blade, Vulkan's hands already gripped his waist.
RIP
Vulkan tore the xenos apart. Blood poured like a waterfall over the controls.
Vulkan knew his advantages well. He wasn't as agile as his brother. So he would fully use his strength!
The Drukhari vessels scattered, trying to flee from this dangerous human.
But the engine of the vessel under Vulkan's feet whined shrilly as he rammed it fiercely into the nearest Drukhari craft!
Flying a xenos ship was very simple. Vulkan learned just by watching.
There were no living mortals on this ship. Vulkan had no psychological reservations.
BAM!
The two vessels collided with a screeching tear of metal. Twisted metal fragments rained down.
A moment before the collision, Vulkan launched himself away, landing with crushing force upon yet another deck.
BOOM!
This vessel's deck shuddered violently under Vulkan's heavy landing. But unlike the unmanned slave ships, twelve elite warriors in gleaming red armor now stood before the Primarch.
Their weapons hummed with lethal energy fields. The blades traced eerie light in the air.
At the end of the formation, the Drukhari Archon lounged on a throne decorated with massive xenos skulls. His armor was far more ornate than any other Drukhari. And Vulkan had come for him!
...
The glaives were massive, yet impossibly light. Even a child could wield them easily. When a Drukhari swung a glaive down, Vulkan didn't even bother to block.
While fighting, he kept an eye on Ferrus's battle. Since Ferrus could block Drukhari blades with his hands, so could he!
He wasn't trying to compete with Ferrus. But he also had iron hands. He wouldn't be constrained and wouldn't be afraid to use them!
CLANG!
Sparks flew as arm met blade. Vulkan seized the moment and punched through the Drukhari's head.
Perhaps he lacked the effortless speed of some of his brothers, but against these xenos, he was still terrifyingly fast.
Facing a flurry of blades, Vulkan's body became a blur.
His iron fist shattered an enemy's skull. Then he tore through a second one's chest. Before a third could raise his blade, Vulkan grabbed his neck and ripped his head from its cavity!
Even a Primarch could not block every strike.
Drukhari blades left hideous, bloody gashes on his body. But the Primarch seemed to feel no pain.
He suddenly grabbed the ankle of a Drukhari leaping at him, swung him like a hammer, and smashed the others to pieces!
When the final guard collapsed headless onto the deck, the path to the Archon's throne lay open, paved with broken corpses.
Vulkan slowly raised his head, extending one finger towards the lofty Archon.
"Your turn!"
The Archon slowly drew an eerie sword wreathed in black mist from beside the skull throne. But in his other hand, a pistol had somehow appeared.
He mockingly aimed the pistol at Vulkan, bursting into sharp, piercing laughter from behind his mask.
A beam of darklight particles, capable of piercing any armor, shot from the barrel. The Archon was confident no enemy could survive this shot. They wouldn't even leave a corpse!
Vulkan couldn't dodge in time. He didn't intend to. He could only raise his arm to block his chest.
CLANG!
The darklight particles exploded into dust against his arm. Vulkan was unharmed.
The pupils behind the Archon's mask suddenly contracted. The Primarch's iron fist, carrying all his fury, slammed into his face.
This time, the xenos couldn't avoid it. His mask exploded into countless fragments. His teeth flew like shrapnel. His head collapsed and exploded, splattering Vulkan with sticky gore.
SMACK!
Ferrus grabbed a Drukhari, tearing xenos and armor apart.
Another xenos tried to ambush him. But Vulkan, descending from above, crushed him underfoot.
The impact shattered his spine. Vulkan stomped, exploding his head.
Vulkan said, "Brother, let's end this!"
The xenos' will to fight had long collapsed. Facing the encirclement of two giants, despite their numbers, resistance was futile.
They wanted to flee, but Vulkan had destroyed their vessels. The few remaining had already fled in panic, disappearing over the distant horizon.
They wanted to fight back, but the Archon was dead. The surviving Drukhari only cared about saving themselves. A disintegrated army could mount no effective resistance.
So they were simply slaughtered.
As the xenos scattered, the mortals couldn't keep up. Xenos far surpassed mortals in both stamina and speed.
But the Primarchs could.
The xenos had come to hunt. They had hunted mortals on this very wasteland. Now the Primarchs were hunting them. Like two unstoppable storms, they caught and crushed every fleeing xenos until corpses littered the entire wasteland.
"ROAR!"
Juno spread her wings, her takeoff howling like a hurricane as she shot into the sky, chasing the xenos vessels.
Caelan stood on Juno's back. He simply raised his hand, his fingers loosely closing.
In an instant, vessel after vessel was crushed into scrap metal, plummeting into the wilderness.
Vulkan and Ferrus had only asked him not to interfere with the defense. But he could help with the cleanup.
....
[email protected]/DaoistJinzu