Stepping into the fortress, the attackers they faced were not Fra'al, but a new xeno species.
These were lanky humanoids, with scalelike spines rising from their scalps. Their eyes were pale white slits, almost without a nose, and their jaws jutted forward, two thin tusks hooking upward over their upper lips.
All of them were hunched, shambling as they raised their weapons and opened fire on the Shadows of Order.
At the sight of them, Nareth immediately recognized their race, the Nekuli.
'Nekuli… Whisperlances.'
His eyes narrowed, for among the ones holding automatic rifles, a few elites carried strange weapons.
The front half resembled two chainswords fused together, lined with serrated teeth. The rear half was a grooved barrel, its valves, reeds, and resonance chambers forming a system reminiscent of musical instruments.
'So it truly is the Whisperlance.'
The Whisperlance served as a primary material for the Sequence 7 "Weapon Master" path, following after Sequence 9 "Warrior" and Sequence 8 "Pugilist." The other key material was the arm of a Viskeons.
Nareth knew that both the Viskeons and the Nekuli were among the finest bounty hunter and mercenary races in the galaxy.
The auxiliary materials for the "Weapon Master" also related to the Viskeons, their blades.
He shouted to the Honor Guard: "It's the Nekuli! Beware their strange weapons! Use your Lyman's Ear to filter out the abnormal sounds."
The moment his words fell, the Nekuli turned their Whisperlances toward his position.
With a roar, the weapons activated, releasing a piercing hum. At its touch, the Nekuli themselves began to tremble, their bodies resonating in perfect harmony with the spears.
The mercenaries aimed at the Honor Guard, bullets carried within a sheath of sound waves.
The sound wasn't shrill or harsh, it was a low, murmuring whisper, like voices at the edge of one's ear.
One Honor Guard was a heartbeat too slow, failing to filter the anomalous sound through his Lyman's Ear as the Gene-Father had commanded.
The whispers slid into his ears, dizzying him, leaving him swaying on his feet.
A bullet struck his power armor, leaving a dent.
The others reacted in time, filtering the whispers, and returned fire with their bolters.
The thunder of explosive rounds clashed strangely with the low murmuring of the Whisperlances, creating an uncanny soundscape across the battlefield.
The dazed Guard stood stupefied, as though hypnotized.
The Nekuli were startled that their weapons could not pierce the black-armored giants, and so they focused their fire on the dazed target.
Nareth's ears twitched, he shut the whispers out entirely.
His golden wings flared, lifting him into the air, and he swooped down to shield his stricken son beneath them.
Bullets spattered harmlessly against the radiant wings, ricocheting away.
Nareth's left hand reached down, seizing his son by the shoulder and hurling him backward to safety.
The Nekuli mercenaries charged the Honor Guard. One elite, bearing a Whisperlance, thrust at the black-armored warrior before him.
The strike was impossibly fast, too swift even for the Shadow of Order to evade.
The serrated blade shrieked as it pierced the armor, and the whispers burrowed into the Astartes' mind.
The warrior froze, eyes glazing, falling into a trance.
The spinning teeth tore through him, sawing his body in half without resistance.
Nareth's wings beat once, hurling him above the killer's head. He plummeted down, crushing the Nekuli into pulp beneath his heel, though he deliberately spared the arm and Whisperlance.
He rose again, diving and striking, his Sword of Vaul cleaving down Nekuli elite after elite.
At the fortress' heart, a palace stood. From its high dais, the Fra'al commander watched in horror as the Nekuli mercenary lines he had paid dearly for collapsed entirely.
He turned to another mercenary leader at his side.
"Milosh, the Nekuli are worthless. Now it is time for the Viskeons to prove they are the galaxy's finest mercenaries."
Milosh grinned viciously, full of confidence.
"The Viskeons are already the top mercenaries in the galaxy. We'll kill every black-armored warrior who breached these walls."
"Night has fallen. This is the Viskeons's hour."
With that, he strode to the gate. Before leaving, he glanced back at the Fra'al commander and warned: "When the battle is over, I expect my payment. Be ready."
He twirled his strange blade.
"Fra'al glass-blades, crystals, and the rest of my promised reward."
"Of course, I keep my word," the commander replied, but once Milosh was gone, his eyes grew cold.
"Arrogant mercenaries… to dare threaten me. If not for my lack of soldiers, you cold-blooded beasts wouldn't even be worthy to beg for the chance to serve me."
At that very moment, on another front, Pell of the Eleventh Legion led his Fifth Company against the xeno in the planet's second-largest fortress.
The xenos they faced resembled Orks in that their bodies were green, but they were far slimmer, though their mouths were still filled with tusks.
They carried no ranged weapons, only strange blades: wooden shafts tipped with four spearhead-like fangs, the base of the weapon sprouting additional jagged teeth.
At first sight, Pell judged from their weapons that they must be capable melee fighters.
But when battle began, he realized they were far weaker than expected, sluggish, lazy, posing little threat to the Shadows of Order.
The only dangers were their unnatural regeneration and the acid they spat from their mouths.
Yet as dusk deepened, the xenos transformed.
Their sluggish movements sharpened into lightning speed.
Pell used the Seventh Form of the Otsberg-Vaya, his sword cleaving toward an enemy.
The xeno's bleary eyes snapped wide, and he raised his weapon, two fangs locking against Pell's power blade, then spat a jet of acid.
Startled, Pell leapt back, narrowly avoiding being dissolved.
The Viskeons drew upon the energy they had stored from daylight. With nightfall, their metabolism shifted, making them monstrously fast and strong.
Two Viskeons mercenaries lunged at the Order.
The one on the left parried a power sword with his own weapon, then spat acid that hissed and bubbled on the marine's armor, dissolving it before the eye.
The one on the right deliberately hung back a step, then struck forward, his three spear-fangs stabbing into exposed flesh.
He grinned savagely as he ripped his weapon free.
The Viskeons's sudden surge in strength brought instant carnage, several dead, more than a dozen wounded in moments.
.....
If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.
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