บท 10: Steel Rain

A day has passed. The time for grieving has passed, it was time to do the lord's work. They were betrayed, yet the ones doing it looked so broken.

"Why don't you feel defeated, my Lord?" Dembit asked after the retreat.

"Why? Should I be? You saw it yourself. Each shot was narrowly missed. They knew you could take a shot or two, but they didn't. Tell me this, Dembit. When you mingled among the folks, were they apprehensive? Were they resistant to your presence?"

A simple answer came from Dembit, "No."

A hand on his shoulder, Duraeus comforted his son, "They didn't betray us."

Xarvass, Frym and Aze found this comical. They were just shot at– asked to surrender– forced to pick between submission or death and Primarch Duraeus speaks in such a way? A cumulative and similar thought by his four sons.

"They betrayed their organization."

"But still–"

Frymrorth wasn't left to finish his thoughts; a hand placed on his shoulder like the one on Dembits.

"Every child deserves a parent, but not every parent deserves a child. Heard of that saying?"

"No my Lord," Frym confirmed.

"Neither have we," Xarvass answered for the rest of the group.

~Chuckle~ - "It's a saying during my long life I've come to pick up on. In meaning– at least the way I see it– every child deserves a parent to mentor their innocence, to mentor skills; but not every parent deserves such honor. Some are diabolical, torturing the future spark of the world– hence why not all parents deserve children."

"This can be implemented to the structure of the military– Earth Defence Force in this case. Their soldiers are one of a kind with higher spirits some worlds would die to have. Yet their lives depend on the words of those behind the desk, frail and rusty. Seeing only statistics and potential power increases."

"Does such a person or group deserve to lead such a wonderful group of individuals?" Dureaus finally asked.

Dureaus called, four responded. The four marines had multiple answers.

Seeing only that of numbers can be detrimental. Hungering for power is detrimental. These so-called higher ups deserve no such position.

Sound arguments, but not quite–

"The answer is more convoluted than you think. Consider the planet's circumstance, the massively positive reports I'm sure was done to us, the research I allowed Ms. Esmeralda to conduct under mine as well as your consent, consider the men and women. All of them and so much more have a hand in forming the action of the higher ups that has passed. Plus, we don't look so human with our armor and genetic enhancements and augments."

"They could have absolutely seen us as the last hope– last resort. Something absolutely necessary– so much so that they had to use force. Or, it was all for selfish greed."

Silence in the air, their Primarchs' words swam and stirred in their minds. This world was convoluted. Glory and the preservation of humanity isn't the only thing to worry about. Now, it was no longer good and evil– human or humanity.

"They don't deserve their leadership," Aze spoke his thoughts, "my Lord, you authorized cooperation in studying our armor's data. Assuming it's under the impression of further improving their chances in developing better equipment for themselves, the higher ups should've gotten what they wanted. This new group of people shared their knowledge, prowess, and equipment. Unless… they wanted more."

"So, they're not of the deserving kind afterall," Xarvass commented, kicking rubble in frustration, "the stress they have put on us as well as their own soldiers– GODDAMNIT!"

"Calm your nerves, Brother Xarvass. Hold that anger and frustration and channel it towards something else. Preferably against one of those damned insects."

"Aye, Brother Frymrorth– aye. Apologies for the momentary lapse in judgment," Xarvass straightened up.

Dureaus was in his suit. Ever since getting it, he has seen no reason to unequip it. Comfy, like wearing pajamas. Beneath it, he smiled. Unnoticed by his sons, they have learned a lesson. A lesson in judgment. An expansion of colors, no longer seeing in black and white. Now, shades of gray; and maybe– JUST maybe, more shades of the rainbow. They had this grimdark presence, a frontal defensive mechanism hiding a softer core.

These emotions they're feeling. The free thoughts they exhibit and body languages of convoluted thinking. He'll have to slowly mold them into something more than preprogrammed codes of basic thinking and spirit.

His smile was the result of his words bearing fruit.

"Don't be sorry, young Xarvass, be better."

Spoken like a true parent. What was meant to calm the nerve of one, sent the others into their own spiritual hypotheticals– in short, enlightenment. Not to be sorry but to be better, better than the mistakes you've created, better than the immature self of the past. Be better, a simple yet powerful set of words.

Taking a page from Kratos, Dureaus took it upon himself to pass on such meaningful words.

"Do we forgive them?" Dembit asked, "do we forgive them for their transgressions?"

Aze and Xarvass took interest in the thought. Frymrorth kept to himself, already making peace with the situation.

"To forgive is to make peace, right Sire?" Frymrorth asked, looking thoughtfully.

"Yes, it's to make peace. But what or to whom? Is it peace with them or yourselves?"

To whom…

The conversation ended there– to whom. To forgive is to make peace with, but it's not to forget. Hold the injustice within your heart, but never forget it– make peace with it, but learn from it. Forgiveness is a virtue not many can procure.

That leads to now, a day after. The Draconian Revenants were on the move, but for what?

"If we can't find a home from others, we'll make it ourselves." Frymrorth commented within the past few hours.

Indeed, having a base of operations would help in this war. But, why? A question their Primarch had in return for such a remark. The stronghold was essentially their base. They rearm, recuperate, and augment themselves in such a place. Dureaus found it counterintuitive to have a base here when they already have one.

"No humanity," those were Xarvasses words. The Stronghold did provide them with what they needed, but within the realm they didn't feel conscious. Their thoughts were blank, emotions didn't run rampant in color. Like a machine, they felt in a world of colorless endeavor. Naked yet not feeling embarrassed, that world was void of common sense… actually, from sense itself. That's how Aze described it when he added on.

To them, the Stronghold was a factory of efficiency. It didn't need freedom from its guest, it just needed shit to get done and be off with it. But after seeing the ecosystem of the Bastion they retreated from. The monotone joy of doing the same thing, the joy of interacting with objects and individuals. A hands on approach, where things aren't just given to them.

"I think the word you're looking for is community Dembit," Dureaus suggested.

That's right, when summed up, the Stronghold didn't have a community where the Bastion had it. Even soldiers have a set of community, a brotherhood.

"Then let us create this community that my sons so desire."

The four couldn't help but smile.

Their Primarch was worthy of having sons.

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They made do with their conviction. They have forgiven the people at that Bastion but never forgot that the higher ups have set them up for it. Now, minds clear, they've got a war to fight.

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"This place should do, right dad?" Xarvass asked.

Yup, they've taken a liking to calling me dad or father ever since that spiel of children and parents a day ago. We were way up north, never stopped running and looking for a place to call home. I don't know if it's a good choice to make it permanent though. A base of operations is a must at this point, but… I wonder if this story of mine, this life I've been given by my mother could lead to more worlds. If that's the case, what would happen? Do I have to reestablish a base of opera– no, not a base but a home. I'm now officially a father. Where they called me 'my Lord' and 'Sire' they now call me father or dad. A family is to have a home to come back to.

I shall do so even if it's the last thing I do.

We were at the upper corner of Wisconsin, northwest, close to Minnesota but still a ways before crossing states. We found a nice and lush forest to call our own. Most of the towns and cities were burning on the way here. Saw some firefights too, and we provided shadow support. It was mostly Aze just sniping from a distance. Now that we are gone, Bastion Tempest will have to do more exhibitions outside their base. I forgot that that was the name of the base.

Personally, I'm bitter about that turn of events even if I knew it was going to happen sooner or later. I can find solace that Dezmond and Chris were of the same thought as I. I saw and felt their hesitation and regret. I'll see them again, hopefully. Dezmond, Chris, and uptight Esmeralda… the first few I'd call friends in this new life. I wonder… can I recruit them? Naw, best not entertain an idea that might come to be disappointment. As that damned Librarian said in Dawn of War, "Hope is the first step to the road of disappointment." So is blind faith.

It's been many days, counting the ones when we were still doing missions to help out Tempest. I've made significant upgrades towards my marines on standby… who am I kidding, I haven't even called more in yet. I've been stacking up upgrades and unlocking new vehicles and classes as well as variants but haven't implemented them to an army yet… a damned habit of mine when playing RTS games.

"Hmm."

"What's wrong father?" Aze asked.

"How to start the base is a concern."

"That is a reasonable concern," Frymrorth agreed.

"Could you call in a Techmarine father?"

"Not a bad–"

—BOOM!

—ShVImmm!

I sensed it before it came. A huge explosion from a distance followed by red and blue projectiles. We turned our heads in the direction, a damned mobile fortress tearing up huge EDF forces. We were set up at a hill, but the height advantage wasn't needed to even see the thing. Walking guns, that's the best way to describe the large walker.

I remember it, a tedious fight in the game. A giant walker that drops insects, Battledrones, and slow homing missiles that hit you unless you shoot them down. They also drop humanoid aliens, as tall as small buildings– five to six stories high in height. Luckily, we were a ways away, so we shouldn't draw aggro– wait, if we defeat that thing…

"That's new."

"Agreed, looks like we aren't just fighting insects. If they have tech like that, watch the skies."

"By the throne."

"Your will my Lord father."

[610,001 Legion Points]

Oh that's more than enough, "Any of you fancy a challenge?" I asked the four of them.

Dembit was shocked, "Father are you blind?"

"No need for harsh words brother Dembit," Aze said, "but I agree. We are but five men, father. You are a Primarch, you wield with your strength comparable to that of demi-gods. But that needs more than one man, father."

"I agree," Xarvass chimed in, "by the looks of it, it's a mobile fortress and fortresses carry with them soldiers. We four aren't going to be enough to even scratch that thing. Back us up brother Frym."

Frymrorth met his gaze, arms crossed, ~sigh~ - "We can't deal damage to that thing from the outside. If it were an internal business, it wouldn't be impossible. But as I see it, Xarvass's assessment stands with some merit of some sort of personal force. Surely to keep others from getting too close, especially inside. Unless you're calling upon more brothers then– wait. Are you–"

Indeed, Frymrorth, indeed. I needn't answer them, they've come to realize what I was about to do as excitement built up within them.

[-539,231 Legion Points]

[70,770 Legion Points left]

The amount of Legion Points deducted hurt to look at. But that was nothing compared to the rumble in the sky. One by one we looked up, the sky burned of our silver and gold color. They were like fiery raindrops in the sky. They burned a glorious glow as they descended upon heaven. With them were Thunderhawks. They broke through the clouds at frightening speeds. I don't have them unlocked, but I saw they had vehicles attached below them. Some had none, those acted upon one singular strafing run– all guns firing and booming like a 4th of July sky– before dropping off marines of all kinds. Some mad lads opted for the Titus treatment, dropping in squads of ten– free falling– only equipped with jumpacks.

This was met with heavy fire from the mobile fortress– or as the EDF calls it– mobile outpost. Most top side guns aimed up, shredding a lot of drop pods and some aerial support and transport. But I spent nearly all my Legion Points for this. Today, I've summoned the reckoning this world deserves.

From the distance, I saw EDF forces agape at the sudden appearance of my Legion. All of them admired the reinforcements. But it seems they got their orders as they all fell back. Good, can't have them ruin the debut of my Legion. Looks like all that waiting paid off. The ground shook before us, armored support spawned at our sides and moved forward with hate. Autocannons fired as the Predators moved, lifting up dirt with each shot. Razorbacks lit the sky with a laser show, firing Twin Lascannons as they moved up with the Preds. Razors and Rhinos opened their backs as marines of all kinds rushed out, guns blazing. Devastators, Assaults, Tacticals, Scouts, it was like watching plastic green soldiers come to life to reenact the battle you set them up in.

—Fishim!

Aw, I can't see the sun. Exaggerated, but the scale of rockets in the sky that's targeting the Outpost only left small cracks of sunlight coming through. They showered the walker fortress, staggering it a bit.

Satisfied, I turned to my marines… no, my Keepers.

"So, you guys in?" I asked one more time. My hands out wide like Tony Stark.