Deathaxe – the brigadier general chosen to command his organization’s forces that were going to invade Deckstoru – found the view of the city to be most captivating when seen from the opened door of the plane carrying him and his elite guard. He had never visited neither it, nor Barilia as a whole and once he had learned he was among those selected to go there first, he was most excited to explore this strange new country and its people.

Of course, in his opinion, there was no better way to explore a country or a city’s people than by slaughtering the lot of them after you’ve instilled a considerable amount of fear in their hearts. So he was looking forward to that part of the exploration process the most. From the tales he had heard of this land, Deathaxe had come to its shores to do something more than fulfill his mission – he had come in search of a worthy opponent amid the massacre to challenge him.

Such an opponent had not come across his path since the day he had been killed and recruited in the ranks of the organization he currently served, so while having its moments, life had been rather dull for him after that. Hopefully, that was about to change on the night of the invasion that was finally here.

His eyes that could see far better than any human’s, both ordinari and deviant, spotted a glimmer of hope on Deckstoru’s central square several miles below him when they caught sight of the ordinari major there being in trouble. That major was easy to distinguish even from this distance due to being the only one among the soldiers that had descended upon the square to wear a V2 Anti-Deva Armor as a result of which he could use Karaid and Daroid to a certain extent. Despite all the abilities the armor granted him, however, he had gone and got himself trapped by a couple of local deviants, having just lost his helmet and a dark yellow laser beam currently burning through his skull.

Seeing this simultaneously brought joy to Deathaxe’s artificially sustained heart and a great deal of annoyance to his mind kept in his dead body by special means. Thus, he gave out a disgruntled growl before jumping out of the plane without saying a word to his most trusted troops. The following went through his mind during the fall through the air as the wind howled at his ears and soon enough other sounds were added to the mix by the chaos down below:

‘Ordinari – what a pathetic excuse for a lifeform. They truly are the lowliest among species on this planet. Many of the animals on Saiten are even born with devas, but these … these little arrogant vermin … they have nothing. Neither intelligence, nor skill. Only an irritating persistence to prove themselves better than all around them – whether by using technology or some other means. Just so they can end up failing and dying miserably to provide me with something to laugh at. But there are those in their midst like that worthless piece of meat down there who won’t stop pestering their surroundings even after death. Maybe I’ll kill him myself after I’ve taken care of his attackers to teach him a final lesson of the afterlife.’

Deathaxe landed on top of Deckstoru’s most cherished Grobe Statue of Unity, turning it to a worthless pile of rubble simply with his weight, unleashing a pulse mixing his Karaid and hell flames that covered a very wide area. Many targets were cut down by it, including the one that had deprived the major of his helmet and the one turning his brain to jelly with the laser beams coming out of their eyes.

Right after that came the screams of mad panic extracted from the victims of his forces’ initial attack due to his invervention in the situation, Deathaxe simply standing amid the grobe’s ruin to enjoy the melody those screams formed for a moment or two. Once fully immersed in the atmosphere of the wonderful war that had begun, the brigadier general made his way to the major whom he had saved, not paying attention to any of the gore and destruction he moved through. His most pressing business was with that failure of a commanding officer, after all.

The major was holding the bleeding and burned back of his bald head while using his foot to crush the skull of the one who had attempted to cut through his, each kick carrying all the fury a weak ordinari could muster. His other opponent’s head had already been crushed to death and although this one was quite dead as well, he kept on kicking him, only finding pause when he registered Deathaxe’s presence. He stepped aside from the corpse of the deviant boy, saluting his superior per his training – by clashing his fists in each other in front of his chest and bowing his head, waiting for the ‘at ease’ command.

The general didn’t even bother to give that command, directly starting their conversation by addressing the topic at hand – that major’s failure to handle three meager targets right after landing on the square to take command of the forces sent there.

(Deathaxe) ‘You almost got killed there, major. By three underage civilians. Would you care to share with me your theory as to how that came about?’

The ordinari scum didn’t answer immediately, while having already raised his head his eyes still looking at the ground out of fear to look at any part of Deathaxe, drops of sweat running down his head along with blood now.

That behavior was understandable to some extent. He was after all faced with a 4-meter tall representative of the extinct darkan race whose entire body was clad in Medieval armor. There was a combination of a massive dark purple X and another black symbol on the gray armor’s chest, the chainmail under it being dark purple as well while the cape of fur attached to its back was black. The general’s gauntlents and greaves were made of bone spikes, the symbol of the organization he was a part of resting on a stone attached to his belt in place of a buckle. His helmet was the last feature of his appearance to take note of with its big black horns bent inward sticking out of each side, the face inside it not being visible because of the thick Karaid cloak Deathaxe had covered himself with. So the only things one could see amid the hollow darkness of the helmet were the two pale green dots that were his eyes.

And across from a being of his stature was now a weak image of a man, once hearing his even weaker voice drowned in guilt and dread, his master’s blood starting to boil. So much so that he could hardly maintain enough control over himself to not take off the great double-sided axe he wore on his back and cut the ordinary in half.

(The Ordinari Major) ‘I underestimated the tactical skills of the targets and they ended up cornering me for a moment, sir. But I assure you they would’ve still been dead within a minute despite their temporary advantage.’

(Deathaxe) ‘Oh … is that so? That’s still not a good enough explanation, though, ordinari.’

Deathaxe was now conflicted. Seeing how the conversation was going, he wondered if it was a better choice to continue torturing and humiliating the major due to the pleasure he derived from it or to slay him without further delay because of how much his very existence angered him.

(Deathaxe) ‘You should’ve taken care of them in less than a minute right from the start, soldier.’ He leaned closer to the major so that he could see how whatever hair was present on his face stood on end when feeling the general’s breath on his skin. ‘Perhaps this armor you’ve been given has made you overconfident? Perhaps you’ve forgotten your place and your state of powerlessness because of it, hm? Maybe I should demote you to sergeant and remove this armor to leave you without any protection whatsoever?’ Deathaxe looked around while saying what followed. ‘I’m quite certain any of the three captains on this square would be more than glad to strip you of it and take your place. You know them better than me, though, so you call them to come and join us. I want the three of them to decide among themselves which one is going to take the armor off you before I finish what that deviant boy was trying to do.’

Even more dread and despair seemed to fill the major’s face with every word spoken by his commanding officer, his attempt to plead for mercy being interrupted right at the start, however, as one of the three boys he had been fighting jumped on him from the back. He had raggedy black hair, the upper half of which was longer and had tufts sticking out in all directions while the half covering the back of his head was cut quite short, his eyes being as blue as sapphire. The skin of his half-naked body had probably been of a paler than the standard complexion prior to suffering the burns it was now covered with, those burns being accompanied by just as many hemorrhages.

Judging by the severity of his injuries, Deathaxe presumed he had gone very far beyond the output he was allowed to use, perhaps even reaching a 100%. A deviant that had pushed themselves to such an extent, especially one so young, would typically not be able to move at all for hours on end, or at least that was the undead general’s experience.

Yet this boy seemed to have been driven so mad with anger after losing his friends that he had managed to overcome the unthinkable amounts of pain he was tormented by and had risked further injury just to take his revenge. So it was that he simultaneously gained Deathaxe’s respect and piqued his curiosity which made him decide not to take action for the time being, but simply to observe how the events unfolded.

The young deviant smashed the major in the ground, the moment a combination of  Daroid and Karaid burst forth from the energy panel in an elongated rhombus shape on the ordinari’s chest armor, his adversary covering their entire body in organic brown spike-like blades with yellow outlines. His armor that was strangely reminiscent of a reptile’s scales protected him from the effect of the two energy compounds long enough for him to rip out the deva mixing device under the rhombus-shaped panel and crush it in his hand. At the same time the blades on the lower half of his other arm started spinning, transforming it in a drill-like weapon used to pierce through and mince the major’s head into tiny bloody pieces of skin, muscle and bone.

Mighty cries that combined fury, sorrow, agony and madness ripped through the boy’s chest, adding to the symphony of shearing sounds his arm-drill was composing on the sheet that was the remains of the major’s face. Most of his face and whole head had been splattered all over the avenger, though, as his organic armor hid under the skin again.

As experienced and powerful a warrior Deathaxe was, the scene he bore witness to left him speechless with awe, not being able to remember in his mind when had been the last time he had smiled so wide it almost hurt. That is how much joy this boy had brought him while falling over next to the corpse of his enemy with heavy breathing.

Just then whatever light was left in the area of the square, even that of the fires burning there, was dimmed, a shroud of Karaid having fallen all around. Hundreds of silhouettes dropped amid the black-colored energy compound, causing to earth to shake and crack wherever they landed. While being of the high-tech type, the major part of the face of which was covered by a glass triangle with its tip turned downward that glowed in pale green, their helmets still had the same horns like Deathaxe’s. Their gauntlents and greaves were also identical to his, the rest of their appearance being akin to that of the standard deviant members of the undead organization, save for the color of the tabards on the upper half and the cloths on the lower half of their bodies – they were mainly purple.

Most likely the elite guard had gone down ahead of receiving a signal to do so to ensure their master’s safety – an unnecessary gesture, though one highly appreciated. With their arrival whatever threats remained in the vicinity were going to be easily dispatched, the brigadier general being able to once again devote his full attention to the intriguing young man in front of him.

Walking over to him by stepping on and further crushing the worthless major’s corpse, Deathaxe knelt by the boy’s side, picking up and holding his tiny body compared to his own in his hands to get a better look at him. The splendor of his scarred body was truly one to be admired – his sweat, tears and saliva had mixed with the blood covering him – both his and that of his enemy, making him seem even less human and more beast. Finally focusing on his face, his reaction once his eyes met those of the general was yet more sublime.

Although it was his first time meeting a darkan, the young deviant didn’t show an ounce of fear, much unlike the major he had killed when Deathaxe stood in front of him to pass judgement. In truth, many of the soldiers under his command, both deviants and ordinari, were too terrified to look at his face even after having spent years with him.

But not this Deckstorian teenager he now held in his arms. Only the fire of a vengeful soul burned in full glory in his eyes, standing in stark contrast with his body’s wrecked state. This further convinced Deathaxe that coming upon the boy was a blessing – a blessing that heralded the beginning of an even more successful and exciting campaign than expected.

(Goran) ‘You … you’re the one who unleashed that pulse. My friends … that suit-wearing bastard may have been the one to finish them off, but your pulse is what crippled them so he could do that.’

(Deathaxe) ‘You’re right. For all intents and purposes, I killed them myself. And you can never know how sorry I am for that. If they were the same outstanding warriors as you, this country has lost two most precious children. But do not fear, boy. They needn’t stay dead. They can rise again. As members of our organization. Wouldn’t you like that? Wouldn’t you like to be reunited with them? Make things feel as if all this never happened?’

When Deathaxe had first confessed his guilt, the boy had been surprised. By the end of the proposal to resurrect his dead friends, however, disgust was written all over his face.

(Goran) ‘I don’t know how, but if they’ll be brought back so they can serve monsters that would kill innocent people with no remorse, Stello and Carz will be much better off staying dead.’

(Deathaxe) ‘Well, it was worth a try. It’s not like you’ll have any choice than to watch them being resurrected, but I wanted to see if I could tempt you to swith sides. I have one more question while we’re at it, though, young man. What might your name be?’

(Goran) ‘The moment I feel a bit better I’m going to rip you to pieces. There’s no point in telling a walking corpse my name.’

(Deathaxe) ‘That was very cold of you, child. I’m a walking corpse right now, so maybe you can show me some sympathy? Tell me your last name, at least?’

(Goran) ‘Not in a million years will I …’

(Deathaxe) ‘Is it Blackscale, perhaps? As in Serego Blackscale’s son?’

Due to his wounded state, the boy’s capacity to hide his emotions had been significantly reduced, the look of surprise on his face that lasted a mere moment being more than enough to confirm Deathaxe’s suspicions. Ever since having laid eyes on him, he thought he looked similar to someone he had seen recently. More than that, he was actually the spitting image of Serego Blackscale from the picture attached to his file given to all members of the organization to study in preparation for the war. The only thing different in terms of appearance between the two was the young one’s eyes – Serego’s were yellow. And then there was the young one’s deva that took a reptilian scale-like shape, Deathaxe knowing all members of the Blackscale family exhibited serpent-related abilities in one way or another.

The lies the boy started spouting after giving away his identity weren’t even registered by his captor’s ears for all he could think about was the potential he now held in his hands.

(Deathaxe) ‘You are his son indeed. The younger one of the two, I think. My, my. What a prize I’ve found myself right from the start.’

Sensing one of the elite guard was now standing behind him, his commander managed to shake off the trance the capture of the younger of the Blackscale brothers had put him in, turning around to face his trusted servant.

(Deathaxe) ‘In case you were worried about me, I’m more than fine. I’ve even got myself quite a trophy.’

(The Elite Guard) ‘That’s all good news, sir. I have some as well, which is why I came to you.’

(Deathaxe) ‘Any trouble on the square?’

(The Elite Guard) ‘Only being bored by how meager the fight they put up was. And here I was hoping someone from the nearby police station would’ve come to attack us already.’

(Deathaxe) ‘I guess we really caught them off-guard. It’s good that no police has arrived yet, though. I was planning to head to the station myself once this place was cleared. Now, what news have you got for me?’

(The Elite Guard) ‘We’ve lost contact with the Goroid Legion, but the Sairoid one is en route to their target and the Daroid-Taxoid one has already reached theirs.’

(Deathaxe) ‘If there’s no contact, the Summerbolts we saw back at the beach must’ve wiped out the Goroid Legion. So long as we secure the chip controller, though, losing one legion will be of little importance. Anything else?’

(The Elite Guard) ‘The Reloid and Normoid Battalion haven’t reached their destinations yet due to facing some resistance on the way, but the Flexoid Battalion has successfully rendezvoused with the Devibolts.’

(Deathaxe) ‘Already? Tyra sure works fast. I suppose they’ve got the Gurahorns through and are heading for the prison, then?’

(The Elite Guard) ‘They’re about to start their attack at any moment.’

(Deathaxe) ‘That’s the best news yet! Keep me posted on that front with an utmost priority! I want to know when the Nightsongs and the others will be freed so I can put them to work.’