Though Karl had hoped to wait for the dwarves to arrive before launching the offensive, the Chaos army clearly had no intention of following their timetable. Perhaps they had also learned that the dwarves were sending reinforcements, for the enemy began preparing to strike again almost immediately.
With little choice, Karl was forced to meet them head-on.
In theory, holding fast within Middenheim was the safest course. Yet though the city blocked the main roads, it did not seal off the surrounding forests and wildlands. If they failed to maintain a clear advantage on the battlefield, the Chaos host could simply bypass Middenheim and attack the Empire's other cities — especially with the Beastmen, who knew every shadow of the Drakwald, acting as their guides. To prevent that, Karl had no option but to seize the initiative.
The battlefield was narrow, leaving little room for flanking maneuvers — only brutal, frontal confrontation. The Chaos army welcomed this gladly; they had endless northern warriors to throw into the grinder. The Empire, on the other hand, was not so lucky. Were it not for Karl's steady leadership and his thwarting of several subversive plots, the Empire might already have collapsed into chaos.
Regardless, war could not be avoided. There was no choice but to face it.
At dawn the next day, Duanmu Huai arrived at the front-line encampment — where, for the first time, he met the other leaders.
Alithsara and the Green Knight were familiar faces, and of course Karl needed no introduction. But one figure caught Duanmu's eye — a tall woman wrapped in thick furs, her expression cold as the tundra. She was Tzarina Katarin of Kislev. Though her homeland lay in ruins, the queen stood serene and unbowed. When Duanmu greeted her, she merely nodded in silence, her demeanor distant and austere.
Duanmu didn't mind. He was here to strike down Chaos, not make friends. As long as she didn't get in his way, he didn't care.
Karl quickly began briefing them on the disposition of their forces.
The Imperial Army formed the backbone of the coalition — solid lines of infantry and handgunners. Among them were the famed Greatswords of Carroburg and the Swords of Ulric, the holy warriors of the Ulrican Church.
The flanks were held by the cavalry — the Knights of the Blazing Sun and the Knights of Morr — while the vanguard was led by the Green Knight himself, commanding the Grail Guardians and the Pegasus Knights of Bretonnia. When it came to mounted warfare, Bretonnia truly had no equal.
Kislev, meanwhile, had only its Tsar's Guard and the War Bear Riders left — serving as a mobile strike force, or, more bluntly put, roaming skirmishers.
For ranged support, the Empire fielded outriders with carbines and grenadier pioneers armed with portable launchers. Alongside them marched masses of handgunners and crossbowmen.
And, of course, no Imperial host was complete without its heavy artillery: rocket batteries, great cannons — even a mighty steam tank.
Honestly, they were one step short of World War I technology.
As for the Everchild Alithsara, she commanded a cadre of elven mages and royal guards — scarcely a hundred strong, yet on the battlefield they were the only force capable of matching the Chaos sorcerers in magical might. The Empire had brought its own wizards, of course… but compared to elves, they were several leagues behind.
Karl spread the battle map and explained, "We'll have the halberdiers hold the line alongside the ranged units to blunt their first—"
"There's no need," Duanmu interrupted, waving a hand.
"I'll break them completely. You just follow behind."
The sudden assertion left Alithsara, the Green Knight, and Karl momentarily speechless. Katarin frowned but said nothing.
"So," Karl asked at last, "you mean to take the vanguard?"
"Exactly."
Duanmu reached out and traced a bold line across the map.
"I'll crush the plague host and wipe out their Chaos Lords. And with luck, that fool Archaon will show himself and save me the trouble of finding him."
"…Very well, then," Karl said at last, clapping him on the back — or rather, the lower back, since he couldn't reach the shoulder. "It's in your hands."
Snow swirled through the bitter northern wind.
Duanmu stood tall upon the white plain, his massive frame unmoving as he gazed across the blizzard toward the endless, black tide of the Chaos host — the Plague Legions, the Vampire Knights, heretics, mutants, and corrupted men who had sworn themselves to the dark gods. Every one of them was a target of the Inquisition.
Olgis sat as always on his shoulder, though today her usual black lace dress had been replaced by a thick robe. Taking human form had dulled her resistance to the cold — much to her annoyance. Yet at the same time, she felt… strangely content.
So this… is what it feels like to belong to a master.
Feeling the solid, cold strength beneath her, Olgis clenched her tiny fists and murmured, "Everything's ready."
"Then let's begin," Duanmu said, raising his hand.
He invoked [Summon: Dolls], then activated [Dragon Transformation], removing the Dolls in his hand and transmuting every Doll on the field into [Dragons]!
A deafening roar split the frozen air.
Dozens of colossal, jet-black dragons materialized before him, spreading their wings and bellowing in fury. The soldiers behind Duanmu gasped in shock — none could fathom how an entire flight of dragons had simply appeared out of thin air.
Mounting his Mechal Dragon, Duanmu raised his warhammer high. Behind him, the sigil of the Law of Death flared to life, its shadowy power pouring into the dragons.
"Go," he commanded. "Bring our enemies the death they are fated for!"
"ROOOOOAAAR!!!"
With that earth-shaking roar, the black dragons surged into the sky and, under Duanmu's lead, dove toward the Chaos army.
"Fire!!"
The Chaos ranks responded instantly — arrows, bolts, and spells streaked upward in a storm of death. But the dragons soared higher, weaving through the barrage like bombers before plunging down in a rain of destruction.
From their gaping maws spewed torrents of black-and-white flame — the burning breath of divine judgment — sweeping across the plague legions below.
The fire of the Law of Death, the flame that hunts gods, devoured the pestilent hordes without mercy. Warriors of rot screamed as the cold, merciless power of extinction tore through them. Within moments, thousands of plaguebearers turned to pale ash, their corruption burned clean.
This was precisely why Duanmu had chosen to strike the plague host first. His Law of Death perfectly countered the Plague God. No matter what diseases or contagions that god controlled, death was the inevitable end of all things — even microbes.
In the face of that law, everything — even viruses — simply ceased to exist.
The onslaught of dragons shattered the Chaos lines. But the slaughter had only just begun.
Moments later, hundreds of blazing fire meteors streaked down from the heavens — metal stars tearing through the clouds before crashing into the already-panicked Chaos ranks.
The "meteors" split open with hydraulic hisses, revealing steel soldiers within. Gunfire roared as the Guardians poured out, joined by drop-podded Night Sentinels, their weapons blazing as they tore into the enemy.
BOOM!
Duanmu's dragon slammed down onto the ground like a thunderbolt. He leveled his warhammer forward, voice echoing like a battle hymn.
"We are the unbreakable shield against the encroaching dark!
We are the blade forged to defy destiny!
Before the wrath of the Inquisition, all enemies shall be annihilated!
In the name of the Inquisition—kill them all! Leave none alive!!"
As Duanmu charged with the Night Sentinels and Guardians into the heart of the Chaos host, the commanders at the rear could only stare.
"I'll be damned," Karl muttered, eyes wide — then he laughed. "He never fails to surprise me."
He hadn't known what Duanmu planned, only that the man exuded confidence. Now, seeing dragons and steel warriors turning the Chaos ranks to ruin, Karl felt the first stirrings of real hope. The coalition had always fought defensively, surviving by inches. Now, for the first time, they were the ones crushing the enemy.
Grinning fiercely, Karl raised his golden warhammer and roared,
"Now's our turn! Time to settle accounts with those bastards!
All units — advance!!"
"WOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"
As the thunderous war horns sounded, the coalition army surged forward like a tidal wave, crashing into the Chaos host.
(End of Chapter)