118 RETURN OF AUTOCANNONS
The soldiers on the walls could only stare in awe.
Down below, Damen tore through the alien swarm like a reaper, his every blow scattering shadow hounds as if they were nothing but pests.
"If there were more heroes like him," a soldier murmured, his voice trembling with both reverence and disbelief, "Fortress Myrone would never fear the alien storm."
But Damen didn't stop.
He pressed forward, further and further into the dark horizon — his path of blood stretching endlessly behind him.
And as soon as he vanished into the distance, the hounds filled the void again, pouring over the earth like black rivers.
"One hero's not enough to save us," Captain Green said in quiet sorrow. His initial excitement about Damen's potential was short-lived… if he wouldn't survive the onslaught tonight.
His voice cracked. "He's a good boy… and he's not coming back." He turned away, his eyes burning, almost unable to watch.
All around them, the shadow hounds surged higher, clawing and leaping up the fortress walls. Their shrieks filled the air like the cries of the damned.
If Lord Nicaesa didn't emerge again soon, Fortress Myrone would fall.
But everyone knew the truth — this was what the aliens wanted.
The swarm wasn't attacking to destroy. They were probing. Testing Myrone's strength. Measuring its breaking point.
Lord Nicaesa would not act until the last possible moment — and the swarm knew it.
That was the breaking point.
Then, a new sound ripped across the battlefield — a deep, mechanical roar that drowned out the howling of the hounds.
Dozens, then hundreds, of autocannons appeared over the skies of Fortress Myrone, their rotor blades gleaming red against the smoke.
On the wall, Zairgid stood beside Lord Nicaesa, a faint smirk on his face.
"I'd say," he shouted over the wind, "I came at the right time."
When Zairgid had arrived earlier with "supplies," no one realized he was bringing salvation — a thousand autocannon units packed into his convoy.
"Autocannons!" Captain Green shouted, his voice breaking with relief. "About bloody time we had them again!"
For weeks, the fortress had been pressed hard — their drone defenses were nearly exhausted, their requests to Melrose City unanswered. The soldiers had fought with dwindling ammunition and fraying morale.
Now, with the autocannons joining the battle, the sky erupted in flames.
Streams of high-caliber rounds rained down on the alien swarm. The shadow hounds were shredded in the open, their bodies torn apart before they could even reach the walls.
Those few that climbed high enough met a storm of bullets and energy bursts that flung them back into the abyss.
The armies of Annunakin paused their advance.
Even their monstrous generals could see it now — with the autocannons back online, a swift victory was impossible.
They raised their horns, low and resonant. The signal for retreating.
As the swarm withdrew into the misty dunes, Fortress Myrone stood bloodied but unbroken. The walls still burned, the soldiers still shook — but for the first time in days, the defenders could breathe.
Above it all, Lord Nicaesa watched silently, his eyes scanning the distant horizon where Damen had vanished.
Smoke and fire still drifted across the horizon. The battlefield was littered with the carcasses of shadow hounds and burning debris.
Lord Nicaesa stood on the wall, his eyes fixed on the distant plains where Damen had disappeared.
His voice was quiet, almost lost beneath the wind.
"Where did he go?"
Beside him, Zairgid crossed his arms, watching the same horizon. His tone was surprisingly calm.
"You don't have to worry too much about him, Lord Nicaesa," he said. "He's a survivor. He's lived through worse… and every time, he's come back stronger."
Captain Green, who was beside them, nodded in agreement. "Last time in Death Mountain, I thought he was gone too… but he came back miraculously. If anyone can create miracles… it's this boy."
The belief in miracles gave them hope.
While, the autocannons hummed overhead, scanning the dark dunes for movement, the soldiers below began tending to their wounded.
But Nicaesa didn't look away.
His gaze lingered on the bloodstained horizon, where somewhere out there, Damen Dark was still fighting — or perhaps, still changing.
----
"I have to put as much distance between myself and the fortress as I can," Damen muttered, the weight of his mistake settling over him.
He'd miscalculated—he tried to be a hero on impulse.
And now his recklessness had turned him into something monstrous.
"I'll never act noble again, never overestimate myself," he vowed, each word a bitter promise.
He pushed deeper into alien territory until Fortress Myrone was only a memory. The shadow-hound swarms thinned, but he no longer feared the beasts.
He feared what he might become. His bloodlust.
A familiar gorge appeared ahead like a scar on the earth. A single thought flared:
"Zalira might know how to help."
He veered toward the Mountain of Death.
Damen moved through the canyon like lightning. His Blood rank was a high B now, and his armor rating neared A—his power now was almost equal to a semi-superhero.
His senses had sharpened to a terrifying edge enhanced by his Vision Connect; he could trace caverns and choke points as if he carried a map in his head.
He slipped through passages he knew and then pushed farther into caverns he had never seen.
Ahead, he detected movement—powerful presences, at least Rank C.
He flattened himself against a shadowed alcove and activated his camouflage, his heart pounding behind his ribs.
"I'm not taking any chances."
What stepped into his view stole the breath from him.
Eryn Veyran. In this mountain again.
"Damn it, Eryn—why did you come back here?" he hissed under his breath. "Didn't your mother promise she'd find a cure before coming back for you?" he scolded.
Eryn huddled behind a flickering force-field amulet, trembling. A jackal-headed humanoid blocked the passage, its features carved in cruel, angular bronze.
It was a Deacon of Annubis.
And the creature was not alone; a second Deacon watched from the flank.
"Damnit, there are two of them", Damen muttered.
"Finally, I found you," the jackal-man snarled.
"Please—leave me alone. I'm not a threat to you," Eryn sobbed.
"You are no threat," the female Deacon spat, her eyes cold. "You are a pest, but you are also the daughter of a traitor who defied us. Do you think we cannot sense your blood connection to her?"
"Please, just leave my mother alone," Eryn begged again, terror cracking at her voice.
Damen was about to step out when a third figure emerged—it was Zalira. She threw herself between Eryn and the Deacons, her voice raw with fury.
"No. Spare my daughter. Take my life instead," Zalira cried.
The Deacons laughed, sounding like metal scraping stone.
"Spare your daughter?" the male Deacon replied. "No—both of you die today. No one betrays the great god Annubis and continue to live."