Mungke spread his arms wide, feeling really good as his thunder bull rammed a building. The defenders, this worthless and unskilled garbage the locals called the Provincial Army, drummed against his armor and his steed, falling alongside a shower of stone. He swung his axe, killing them by score, their blood and guts sanctifying his new domain. Warriors of his tumens streamed after him, wiping out anyone who dared raise a gun against their khan and taking a bountiful harvest of captives. Mungke himself kept charging, bringing ruin to the weak and the broken.
Iron Lord had warned him against attag strongly, but what was there to fear here? The locals in this town were worse thahey were, may the Sky five him, cattle. Livestock. Even sves resisted when it was the bleeding season and the younger warriors tested their bdes on their babies.
Mad Hatter forbade that practice as wasteful, but Mungke vividly remembered the sed person he had killed, a fiersved woman, her body covered in scars, holding a g baby to her chest and a sharp ro her hand. His brother had spared her and received an axe, parting his head from his body in a show of weakness.
Thousands of screaming fools tried to escape them, and not a single ohought about pig up the ons of the dead defenders. If that was how much they valued their freedom, then the Horde was doing them a favor by ing them to serve a higher purpose.
Struggle! This was the Gilded Horde’s way. Rather than lying and dying during famines and droughts, faithful sons and daughters of the Sky gathered into a raiding d iheir neighbors, taking by force what the nd dehem by right. Mungke himself had eradicated ten rival khans, dragging their useless offspring t pyres and the Sky the life essence of youth. Every victory brought spoils. Purebloods, Mungke among them, ate their fill and decorated their swollen bodies in gold, silver, and jewelry to show off their status and danger.
Big was his own . Forty sons, not ting the perpetually stupid dog spawn Amal, subdued the outside nds. Thousands of pureblooded and dirtyblooded sons and daughters of the Sky served him, and their numbers grew with each victory, offsetting any losses as volunteers poured in from the steppe! Over forty thousand bondsmen had joined his , but truth be told, no one ted them. Sky riders, sky strikers, thunder bulls, siege engines… He had it all now.
Mad Hatter was a cruel mistress. She had announced her bid for superiority ieppes one day, mercilessly sughtering any khan stupid enough to resist her and uniting the rest. A fes and long-fotten factories were reopened and gifted to the Merts at her and. Aance soon found themselves burned alive to furheir flesh and bones forever merged with newly produced ons, and their screaming souls fed the unsatiated Sky.
But she was also generous to those in her service. Sure, a sudden word might spell your doom, and Muill owed his salvation to Brood Lord. But at the same time, the woman cared nothing for personal glory; her own was a tiny thing, governed by the elderly rather than strong-willed champions. Meanwhile, nds, sves, food, drinks, authority… everythi straight to the lesser khans. His own nds overflowed with riches, hunger and thirst disappeared, and fresh wives brought mueeded vitality to the steppes.
Ah… He smiled and split a whimpering body in half. There will be much sughter once I die. There will be much sughter when I die. A most glorious war that will see his true heir emerge victorious. Such was the Gilded Horde’s way. Future through petition. Those who didn’t want to spill the blood of their kin had to go into exile, o return.
The ground shuddered and cracked beh the hooves of his thunder bull, and nearby cars shook in tuh the tremors. His eyes caught sight of a t building at the end of the pza. The high walls surrounding it had survived the energy waves of his heavy ser ons. Mere scorch marks soiled their pristine surfaces even after artillery bombardment, and the most damage the attackers had doo them was occasional cracks.
His warriors y dead outside the mairance. Shot or cut to pieces. More bondsmen and purebloods advanced and were swiftly mowed down by a terattack of blindingly fast white shadows. The famous doggies! Only these weren’t like their brethren the Horde had disposed of during the initial st of this building. These doggies were armor and wielded swords, pistols, shields, and proper ranged ons. The bastards danced among his bondsmen, professionally drawing the purebloods into close quarters where a missed shot iably wounded a bondsman, while swords repeatedly thrust into less protected joints, injuring his elites.
Well, that just won’t do. Mungke’s eyes narrowed; he had given Amal a direct order to crush the resistan this fort, to capture the doggies’ children alive and unharmed, to introduce them into his as purebloods, so that they would grow even strether. Clearly, the dumbass had run off hunting for something else.
“Call a sky striker,” Mungke said calmly wheiced the fire ing from the high towers and roof of the fort. His fingers ched the axe.
“I am sorry, my khan,” a warrior replied, exposing his ne shame. “Amal has just summohe st sky striker avaible to…”
“Son of a whore!” The thunder bull rose, responding to his rage. “I will drown him ohe battle is won! Sky strikers are mio and! Mine! Don’t stand shaking, fool, to battle!”
Mungke Khan lightly smmed the axe lightly against the thunder bull’s neck, sending it into an urained, maddening stampede. Manholes sprang into the air. Cars toppled to the side. Boumbled and cheered, weling their leader. His warriors cleared the way for Mungke’s apocalyptic passage. No more. He will tolerate this useless spawn of his no more! He had gifted him and, artillery, and soldiers, and this bastard dared to steal more precious assets and break Mungke’s leisurely quest? Fine, he will fix Amal’s shit again, but it will be the st time!
Mungke reached the stairs leading to the grandiose building, catg a doggie upon his axe. The creature whined in agony as its body was risen into the air. Its hand moved, firing a pistol at the khan’s head. The bullet ricocheted off his helmet, and the Khan smmed the body into the ground. Two more were trampled by his trusty thunder bull, and Mungke ughed gleefully as the immense weight of his steed reduced them into pools of wreckage. His personal guard raced into the opening created by their leader, fag the defenders on a more equal footing.
The khan’s blood ran hot after a shot tore a k of flesh from his precious thunder bull. Several more projectiles pierced his armor, f the khan to win pain, feeling the bullets lodge in his fat. He threw his head high, and the dispy of his helmet marked several snipers on the roof. The geor at his back roared, fueling the visor of his helmet until its facepte shone.
A ball of energy left his head and exploded above, dousing the camoufged fools in a heat superior to any napalm. Edges of the building reddened aed; corpses rolled down as the khan tapped his steed, sending it into a wild dance, while he himself spun the long axe around, cleaving through neck guards.
This pce should have been his by now! Every sed he and his people were busy fighting was a sed Brood Lord was getting closer. Once his troops joihe fray, they could demand a share of the captured supplies and sves, depriving Mungke’s of their rightful spoils! The things the inhuman degee did to women... Dead, tortured, or wounded sves brought no profit!
But the damned fools fought too well! Even with their backs against the walls, the doggies still mao form ranks and push his soldiers back here and there. Individually, they were slightly strohan his purebloods, and bined with the fact that this fort provided them with cover and the doggies’ iron disciplihe situation simply didn’t allow him t forth the entire might of his upon the enemies.
The Horde excelled at fighting in open spaces. They would strike quickly and with little regard for casualties, testing the enemy’s defenses in one area, falling ba a fake retreat, and redug the eo ashes with le ons while the riders circled around the drawn-in enemies and struck from a weaker angle. Here in this kingdom of stone and steel, his troops felt suffocated.
Maybe it is best to wait for reinforts. Mungke pondered, breaking through a pathetic excuse for an obstacle formed by three doggies wielding round shields. Their rotary ons were nothing pared to the annoying stingers of the snipers, and the bullets bounced off his faithful beast and his armor. He had lost a number of his soldiers and knew nothing of the whereabouts of his useless son.
Perhaps Amal had joined forces with Iron Lord to usurp his father? As, this pce was like an unguarded hawk’s egg. Too tasty to let go, evee the threat of a giant bird ready to return and devour the intruder. Uhis thorn was removed, his men were in danger.
No. This pce will be mi first, Mungke posed to Mad Hatter’s pns for further expansion. But upon stepping into these nds teeming with life, toug sumptuous pins, drinking an abundance of water, and entering deep forests, he ged his mind. His will settle here, auries from now his desdants will sing throat songs h his wisdom. From the natives they will learn how to craft engines of war and no longer be depe on the Merts. Perhaps they should try farming and raising thunder cows! This ridiculously silly, yet very cute, thought brought a smile to Mungke’s lips, and he ighe sound of broken bones as his thunder bull advanced.
Something to tip the scales… The khan ughed, full of fidence, and patiently surveyed the battlefield.
Angie ehe fray, or rather, appeared. This one was taller than his brethren and dressed in a dark battle suit, t over the battlefield like a pilr of bck void. Lenses of his armor shone bright blue; a heavy cloak flowed from his pauldrons, threaded with gold. Every part of the doggie’s battle pte was artistically detailed, from the elegant, overpping segmented prote over his fio the long crest of his helmet and the silently w engine.
The mutant wielded a sword that matched the color of his armor. Blows from its deadly edge sliced through entire bodies of bondsmen and purebloods alike. There was no mercy or hesitation in his movements; without even seeing foes verging on his back, the warrior dodged bullets, sshed once, and stole three lives from the khan. Not a single projectile even touched the fabric of his cloak.
Most of the following shots flew harmlessly past the armor ptes, and the few that hit them rebounded harmlessly off the dark surfaces. The warrior came to a halt, cutting nothing in the air, and a dark line remained. He danced away from it, careful not to step on his fallen troops but trampling Mungke’s wounded soldiers with ease. The enemy leader—Mungke was sure of his rank now—moved through the pureblood ranks, carving himself a path of bodies.
The bight reached frenades on his belt and tossed them around. Not hurrying in the slightest, the doggie beheaded a soldier, creating another bck lihis time horizontal. And then he jumped into it.
“Fools! Back away!” Mungke yelled to his warriors, who were hag at the empty space. He kicked his beast, steering it toward the first line.
Superiors, as the priests called them, were people blessed by the Sky with unnatural gifts. Whether it was the ability to travel through space like Phaser or to cause rage like Drozna, they were generally above the Purebloods. ‘Generally’ was the key world here.
Mungke had killed Superiors before. How could he not, when the glowing poison had polluted the steppes and ed every living thing in those nds? Whether it was an arrogant youngster from his own , a rival leader, or an arrogant offspring who dreamed of usurping his rule prematurely, Mungke had ehem all. Dangerous as they were, oheir trick was discovered, they became manageable.
There were few reasons for this individual to ehe fray so boldly, and Mungke quickly discarded the bloodlust. Too professional, too cssy. At first, he had assumed that the first tear was some kind of time bomb, but the bastard’s entrao his own darkness had cleared things up.
I figured you out. Mungke smiled.
Explosions threw his soldiers into the air and tore their limbs off. These were no ordinary grenades. Acid waves rolled after the initial shockwaves, eating through the steel and flesh of his loyal troops. Veterans of dozens of quests recoiled, retreating from the rapidly hissing pool of destru, exposing their allies and showing their backs to the rotating ons.
Mungke swung his axe, ramming the bde into the bight as he leapt from the first window of darkness. His first strike cracked the pauldron, and the mutant rolled noiselessly aside, sparing himself the brunt of the impact. The knight took the blows that followed on his feet, skillfully regaining his footing and matg the khan’s speed.
“Enough of this,” Mungke said calmly in on, bottling his rage. “You have e lives. I challenge you to a duel. Name and rank?”
“I am Macarius Voidrunner, Sword Saint of House Voidrunner,” the doggie replied, sshing the axe from his body. He saluted, toug his helmet with the ft of his sword. “Challenge accepted. You are?”
“Your end.” Mungke kicked, and his thunder bull vomited at the enemy.
Thunder bulls were highly prized animals in his homend. Sturdy, loyal, and easily traihey served as excellent cavalry when s fell on difficult times and cked access to onry. Prime stock bulls, like the ohat beloo Iron Lord and, to a lesser extent, the one Mungke was riding atop, exceeded their natural level of toughness after surviving severe wounds and rarely panicked anymore. When it was necessary to move goods or tear up the ground to reach the precious water, traders were always nearby, eager to sell their beasts.
But there was ohing that truly elevated thunder bulls above other animals. They were omnivores, capable of surviving on corpses as well as pnts. Toxic waste, wood, bones… Acidic fluids in their stomachs digested everything, making them almost impervious to huhe slightest rumor of a thunder bull or cow dying of starvation was enough to summon priests to iigate, who in turn rallied the closest s and pluhem inthteous fury to unch a punitive raid aermihe responsible for such heinous acts. For thunder cows were another blessing of the Sky, and to misuse and abuse them despite the abundance of preilk they gave was the height of inpetence.
And now the tents of Muhunder bull were emptied on Macarius, dreng him in caustic waters. Holes grew in the bck cloak, and with a hiss it came apart, its shreds quickly disappearing in the hiss of the stro acid known to the Horde. The doggies lenses blinked and dimmed, going offline as the perilous waters poured into the rift, frying the meisms inside. Muru that split sed of distra; his axe paihe figure of a. The first cut was blocked; even blihe sword saint had the instinct to save his hide. The sed cut peed the defense, shearing off part of a vambrace.
Simple. So simple. Mungke hummed, driving his beast forward. Lost eyesight was no problem when there were ears. But the bination of hissing and the din of battle had fused Macarius’ perception. Skills? Fairness? Who hem? Only viatters. The bull’s head khe mutant, and he allowed himself to be propelled backward.
Mungke snatched his rifle from a seat and leveled it at his target. In the past, one of his stupid daughters tried to shoot him with it when he gave her hand to Iron Lord. The foolish girl had snapped her wrist after the first bullet left the barrel, uo hahe recoil despite being a dirtyblood. When Mungke fired the on, he hardly felt any invenience.
The ground around Macarius erupted, riddled by the mass-reactive rounds. The knight’s armor shook, and fist-sized dents appeared on it. Mungke swung his axe again, intending to end the battle, and the doggie dove to the left, as nimble as a raptor heading skyward. His paw ripped the helmet from his head, aood tall, hissing drops falling from his joints; his armor cracked, but the sword in his paws sang its tune like a legendary bard, parrying eaungke’s decapitation attempts. Bullets were deflected, and the khan experienced a tingle of unease as nerves visibly tensed in long knotted ropes that stretched away from preternaturally glowing crimson eyes.
“You came to our nds,” Macarius said, his clear voice reag through the cacophony of war like a bde cutting through flesh. “Brought death aru where peace reigned. For that, I, Macarius Voidrunner, n you.”
“Piece of shit,” Mungke cursed, hearing the empty click of his rifle.
He directed his thunder bull to the left as Macarius came upohe rough hide of his current steed parted like a water surfader a siouch of the bck edge, and the creature grunted, more ahan afraid, as the bde severed muscles a a cra the bone of its leg. Thunder bulls were many things, but they were no cowards. Self-preservation instincts were almost ent in their skulls. Fortunately for his steed, Mungke had no iion of letting such a prized spe disappear.
At a snap of his fingers, his warriors opened fire at the knight’s back, throwing explosives to keep the moron pinned down and stumbling. Mungke ughed, swinging his axe heavily with both arms as Macarius tried to create another of his silly portals. Here. It was the turning point. The ambush of his soldiers threw the white-furred bastards into a stupor of disbelief and then into a mad rage. They charged forward, trying to save their leader.
And became target practice for the hordemen. Pureblood veterans fhe terattack, cutting the doggies off from the fort. Their ons worked, taking a heavy toll; hulking carriers finally arrived, their massive legs shattering the stairs, and their ser ons opened fire, mowing down the exposed opposition. Like thousands of angry bees, hoverbikes roared up the walls and reached the rooftops. Their riders flew past the surviving snipers, the spiked bdes of their hoverbikes maiming and killing, reaping a bountiful harvest worthy of the Sky’s attention.
The thunder bull reared on its hind legs. Mungke’s single swing staggered the so-called sword saint, cerating his chest pte. Dozens of shots sent the fool further off bance, and with a very satisfying g sound of twisted metal, the thunder bull brought its healthy leg down. The impact cratered the fool, exposing his head just enough for Muo hack away an ear and bury his axe deep into the shoulder.
This! This was the horde’s way of fighting! Duels, honor, mercy—outnders held these silly notions dear, but the Horde knew better. From the lowest bondsman to the highest pureblood, they were aware of a simple fact of nature. If you lose, you perish. Either you die otlefield, ensved, or you flee and grow weak enough to be uo protect your nds when they are raided. Failure ihe end of dreams, the disappearance of hopes, as your faded from starvation and thirst.
To live was to win. To thrive was to subjugate and expand. To stay free was to ride forward. These were the simple rules of the steppe. Everything else was delusion. Show hesitation, indulge in procrastination, and nature won’t five such weakness. Love, mercy, trust were privileges of subordinates and the weak to give meaning to their lives. A khan must never lose. This was the lesson Mueo teach this fool before he offered his burning remains to the Sky.
Muook the axe in both hands, chug darkly at the sword saint’s futile attempts to cut himself free from underh the hoof. The downward arc came down with enough force to topple a building. Macarius tried to block it with his sword, and the axe buried his on in the crete up to the hilt, cerating his cheek. With an almost inhuman effort that strained his armor to the breaking point, the doggie lifted the hoof and was immediately headbutted by the bull into the wall of the fort, where he colpsed unscious, his head leaving a red stain oones.
“His head is mihe khan ughed, unburned by the prolonged bat. “I cim his armor, his bones, his on, and his wives…”
A howl silenced his jubition. Something heavy nded on the crete grounds, sending a web of fissures in every dire. An energy beam shot out of the rising pall of smoke, emptying the thunder bull’s eye socket, and it rose in anguish. Mungke barely had time to get out of his seat before his steed was tackled back.
The animal, heavier than most battle tanks, roared a challenge and spat a lump of acid and blood from its mouth. Its body vulsed, trying desperately to free itself from the cruel axe buried in the flesh above its groin. The guttural roar morphed into a shriek of pain as the figure in the dark power armor thrust the on deeper, ripping through the guts and sending the mangled beast crashing to its back.
Mungke nded beside the corpse, axe in hand. He initially assumed that Macarius had returo the fight, but upon closer iion, this was a new foe. She hacked her way through the side of the deceased thunder bull; the bess of her brutal and sharpened armor ith blood and tangled irails. The newer’s bck fur showed in the open maw of her helmet, and the axe in her oversized paw rivaled his own in size.
A warlord. Here? Brood Lord told them that these fools were stu Houstad! That art of the reason he had assaulted the pce—to divert the Recmation Army’s defenses a Iron Lord… Iron Lord…
Damn, he was right. I chose the wrong side.
Wasting no more time panig, the khan ordered his troops to form up and down the newer. More meat for the grinder, who cares? I do. I liked that beast, you damn savage. Murode forward, i on adding another leader’s head to his tally, and nearly lost his life.
This doggie was fast! Brood Lord had told him that the fual differeween bck-furred and white-furred mutants was that white-furred mutants were faster but had a harder time rec from wounds, while bck-furred doggies were tough and slow barbarians who fought with little skill. Yet here it was: this creature lu him with enough force to send rippling circles across the crete, riddling his nearby soldiers with shraphat flew out of the road. Bullets and impulses pierced the space she had just occupied, while the warlord was already sshing her axe at the khan.
Muook the blow on the axe’s shaft, and the impact reverberated in his bones, passing through his armor as his legs sank ankle-deep into the ground. This creature… It wasn’t weaker than the sword saint he had fought a moment ago! No, it was even stronger! But how could that be? The spy told them about the iructure of the Recimers, mentioning the five stro warlords and sword saints. And this axe-wielding, mangy beast wasn’t among them!
“Botheration…” Mungke groaned, his on bending. The shockwave from their collision fpped the cloaks of several Purebloods. He headbutted a bite away. “What are you standing there for?! Disassemble the nuisance!”
Fme burst onto the rooftops, and one of his riders colpsed, screaming. Still battling this fiend, the khan summoned a dispy to see what was happening, and his blood turo ice as he received the video feed. More bck-furred. Quite a lot more. Dozens, if not hundreds, were here, the ocurs of their helmets lit crimson. Almost as if responding to his gaze, they annouheir arrival with disanized, bone-chilling howls, raining down grenades.
Domes of acid appeared above his forces, separating the fighters and giving the damned bck-furred a ce to recover. Not waiting for the deadly acid to dissipate, the howling packs crawled down in a stream of bck bodies. They nded on the Purebloods, sinking their fangs deep into their necks or simply shooting their heads off. An explosion in the rear annouhat something was happening to the artillery as well.
But he wasn’t scared. They outnumbered the foe ten to o was only a matter of time before they reduced the Recimers’ o a manageable level. He just o hold out…
A long, double-bded sword cleaved the ser carrier in two. From behind, a figure as rge as the first warlord rose and tackled another carrier, easily knog it off its six legs. Screams followed from ihe building, and his soldiers rushed out, surrounded by fmes that spewed from the open arm of a smaller Wolfkin. Several soldiers turo end the pest and were harvested by a third warlord, who emerged from the fmes with a long scythe in her paws.
A single kick sent three terrified bondsmen into a line of her swing, and their bodies came apart at the ideal cut. She roared, growled, and barely howled, shing out like a true beast, and even her rades gave her a wide berth.
I am not fag a single warlord! Mungke panicked for real, trying to push the bitch away areat. There are three of them here!
All he succeeded in doing was to push back the small mound of muscles pressing on him oep. The warlord responded by slig through his on, tearing off a piece of his armor along with his left nipple.
Muurned and ran, shouting orders for Amal to return immediately and calling for his sons to aid him. Several bsted Wolfkins jumped in his path; one unleashed a stream of fire into his eyes, and as Mungke swatted away the insignifit i and was about to pierce his eyes with his fingers, a female jumped on his ned bit through his armored colr.
Furious, Mungke grabbed the woman a an artificial leg inside one of her armored limbs. Ign the revetion, he nearly crumpled her get to break her neck, the go of the mutant, screaming in agony. The fme-wielding doggie had jammed its fmethrower-turned-arm into the opening of his suit, bing his flesh, while another hurled gre his back, damaging the geor.
Mungke’s fist smmed into the three biting fleas, sending them fleeing. He was reag for his bat knives when the warlord’s shoulder shoved him off his feet.
They rolled on the ground, pung each other, and the creature mounted him, letting go of her axe. Mungke’s systems began p up the sunbeam on in his helmet, but the process was cut short by the direct punch that pletely shattered his facepte. The Khan tried to scream as he heard his teeth crumble to dust, and the paw grabbed his upper jaw. Another massive gau squeezed into his mouth and took hold of his lower jaw..
Mungke no longer felt good. His pns, goals, desires no longer mattered. Even anger abandoned him. He pissed a himself, breaking his knives against the imprege of his oppo, horrified at the unspeakable agony of his pate being ruined and writhing in pain at the destru of his gums. He died when the giant warlord tore his head in twing a string of his flesh—on which his lower jaw dangled—across his throat and belly.
