The beasts had fallen, the last vulture dragged to the ground by the endless horde of Zruns. It screamed as they tainted its body, letting it suffer as they devoured it. The Qilesh fought over the corpse, ripping chunks out of it. Its flesh meant newfound strength. A chance for a better position and a better life.
As they absorbed the Mass, their bodies evolved. The ones who had eaten the vultures developed feathers on their backs, gaining the hardened beak on their heads. Their hands turned into the talons of the birds, sharper than any weapon they could create. The tortoises and scorpions died long before the vulture perished.
The Qilesh who brought them down had claimed their defenses, clad in shells and black plates. Dozens were equipped with the scorpions' claws and their stingers, wet with a deadly poison. The Ch'riuns took the tortoises' Mass, a command from their Qa'an. Their strength and size allowed them to carry the massive armor of the dead beasts. Even an enhanced hau would fail to slice the shells enwrapping their bodies.
An army of hybrids, all having stolen the strengths of their foes. A common Zrun would become a danger to Liron now. A Ch'riun an impossibility. Craters littered the battlefield. Zonis bombs had torn through the Qyoral's ranks, but they had adapted. As they devoured the last beast, Zruns emerged from the sand. They had defended the battlefield, keeping Zonis at bay.
They had known this would happen. With their limited resources, they could do little against their adaptations. They had hoped they would have dealt a stronger blow to their forces. They were wrong. The Qyoral army still had hundreds of soldiers. Their sheer number buried the dunes, standing above the bloody and scorched sand.
Shae had kept the few Qilesh rushing them at bay. While Liron had taken his sweet time, she had slain dozens of Zruns. She stood in the middle of a whirlwind, summoning several lion heads to crunch down on the Qilesh. The last of these strugglers perished, finding their end between fangs made of storm.
Her victory over them meant nothing, though, as countless roared in celebration of their new strength. Their bellies were yet to be filled, though. The Qa'an shouted a simple order to its troops. Under the hammering of the Soulsmiths, they charged Al Pakris.
"Shae!" Liron screamed.
He tried to stand up, but his legs refused. His vision spun, and his head burnt with an intense headache. One that took his sense of balance and orientation from him. He held onto Emma's shoulder, requiring her help to stand. She grunted like an old man as she put her brother's arm around her shoulder, dragging him upwards.
Shae dismissed her lions and summoned paws on her feet. Her wind pulled her off the ground, and she dashed towards them. She moved like a figure that had sprung out of a dream, gliding with a grace Liron envied her for.
"You fool," she barked as she reached them. "You burnt yourself out. Your body is not used to such displays."
"Is he fucked?!" Emma shrieked, trembling as the Qilesh came for them.
"No, but he needs some time before he can move freely again. Here, give him to me."
Emma threw Liron at her, lacking the strength to carry him much longer. Emma had a unique willpower to her. A passion that refused to wield. While her mind was forged out of steel, her flesh lacked any endurance. She had always avoided training or any physically taxing activity. Her complacency had made her a sloth, which she paid the price for, exhausted after the little she had done.
Shae had none of these issues. Her body and mind were one blade, honed to perfection. She caught Liron, using her wind and sheer strength to hurl him onto her back. "Hold on, do you hear me?"
Liron nodded, grimacing as the vomit-stained coat dirtied her back. Shae paid it no mind. She was her mother's daughter, having seen her fair share of vile substances. Ones she had shoveled away.
The anvils cried out again. The Zrun who had devoured the vultures jumped into the air, soaring towards the sky. They danced their arms into wings, mimicking the birds' they had eaten. But unlike them, they had two sets of wings, allowing them greater mobility. These Qilesh were nothing like the ones Liron had dealt with. They slid through the air like they had done nothing else in their entire lives. The wind itself grew jealous of them, desiring to claim their speed and control over their flight for itself.
Their shadows lurked over Al Pakris, surging over their prey. The Soulsmith hammered again, coordinating the Zruns. They moved as one unit. Row by row, they descended, slamming into the ground after Liron and his friends.
A rain of gray fell onto them. Shae summoned a lion head, taking Emma into its mouth. She yelped but calmed as the Conduit had no fangs to bite her with. Flowing between the descending Qilesh, Shae evaded them all while carrying Liron and Emma. She was a trained dancer, the pride of her people, but even she struggled underneath the barrage. Her face was strained, her eyes darting around, trying to keep up with the attacks.
As the rain raged on, the Zruns who had missed them erupted from the ground, flying after them. To not be hit by their brethren, they flanked their prey, aiming to cut them off from fleeing further. Shae clicked with her tongue, reaching her wit's end as she noticed their enemies' strategy. Liron could offer her no assistance, his mind plagued with headaches. She was right. He had been a fool, and his arrogance might have doomed them all.
But Emma had proven herself wiser than her brother. She summoned her Conduit, the mask appearing on her face. She cast a spell, creating five illusions. Five versions of themselves, splitting away from them, all moving in different directions. The training had borne some fruit, as Emma directed her spell to also avoid the rain, copying Shae's movement. Not to a perfect extent but good enough to fool them.
The illusions distanced themselves from one another, forcing the Qilesh to split up. The Qa'an gave the order, and the Zruns hurried after one of the spells. Emma's deceptions had worked. Or so they thought. The Soulsmiths hammered the anvils, and their forces abandoned their target, all aiming for the real ones.
The Qa'an had used the opening skirmishes to study them. It knew of Emma's Magic, commanding its troops to enhance their smell even further. Emma might fool the eyes and ears of her opponents but not their noses. Coming at them from all angles, the Zruns closed in. On her own, Shae might have escaped them, but carrying the two, she would not be able to fly away. They would catch her, moments separating them from a violent end.
But despite their limitless potential to change, the Qyoral relied on certain patterns. Their Soulsmiths communicated to the soldiers in the same way, and any Qilesh could understand them. Zonis emerged from a nearby tunnel, reaching Shae. He hurled several bombs at the Zruns. Expecting a flash bomb, they altered their beaks, letting them grow over their eyes, closing the helmets around their faces. They trusted their smell alone.
All the more surprising to them as no flash erupted from the bombs but a dirty cloud. A foul stench filled the air, tormenting Liron more than his burning head. Emma cried out, trying to hold her nose, but her mask stopped her fingers from reaching it. Shae manipulated the air around her nose, ensuring no smell would come close.
The smell made the twins shiver and moan, but the Qilesh suffered a fate worse than death. Their enhanced noses imploded, stunning their entire system. They screamed in agony as they fell out of the sky, crashing into the holy place. Liron held his nose, tears in his eyes, as he watched dozens of Zruns twitching on the ground, helpless as newborn children that were hit by lightning. A disturbing sight.
"Follow me!" Zonis screamed, waving Shae to follow him.
Without pause or asking, she did as she was told.
Liron held his nose, life slowly returning to him. "Zonis, what is…"
Zonis hurled a vial at him. "Drink it."
Liron glimpsed, catching it. He looked at the vial, recognizing the contents. The same potion Angin had mixed for him before the execution. He downed it, drinking liquid thunder. The world around him became sharp, all senses tuned up to overdrive.
His limbs twitched with energy, desperate to be used. Shae let go of him, and he leaped over her back. "Fuck yeah!" he hurled. "Now I…"
"No!" Shae barked at him. "You have done enough. You will follow us and do everything we say! Do you understand!"
Liron shrunk underneath her tone, his heart cramping. He nodded, biting his tongue. He wanted to remain silent until his death, but he had one question on his mind. "Zonis, what are we supposed to do? We…"
"Just listen," Zonis said, leading them to a tunnel entrance.
Liron heard nothing but the Qyoral army storming Al Pakris. Their numbers alone threatened to trample the holy place to death. But they slowed down, the Qa'an commanding them to pause. And as they stopped, he heard them.
From the other side, dirt clouds signaled its arrival. Unlike the mad dash of the Qilesh, a rhythmic and disciplined march served as its herald. It was order given flesh. The walking oppression that ruled their home with an iron hand. Whoever dared to question it was deemed a traitor and heretic, deserving of only one fate.
It had dictated Liron's life to be one of servitude and subordination. If the future had not split the sky that very day, he would be its tool still. A blade instead of a shovel, but a tool nonetheless.
Liron should have hated it, but seeing it creep over the dunes, hundreds of soldiers ready for battle, he smiled.
The Empire had come. Adenius had heard Liron's challenge and had accepted.