"Icy Burst!!"
Sous' shout rang across the din as Penelope's rune conduits flared blue. The crimson harness spun in place, sword carving arcs through the air, and with it came a sudden eruption of jagged ice. Spikes burst from the torn earth in all directions, lancing upward and outward like a forest of frozen spears. Crawlers shrieked as their chitinous bodies were punctured, impaled mid-lunge, their black ichor freezing solid on contact.
The field became a graveyard of frozen limbs, shattered shells, and steaming breath. Sous did not pause. He pivoted from the momentum of the strike, blade sweeping down to cleave another wave before they could breach the space around his squad.
Then came the roar of the pelters.
Thunder rolled, deafening, as rows of heavy exo-artillery discharged in unison. Their custom-made incinerator rounds screamed across the battlefield, glowing molten red as they arced through the gloom. When they struck, the ground itself erupted. Fireballs blossomed, a line of explosions tearing gaping holes through the advancing horde. The Crawlers nearest to the blasts were reduced to nothing but charred fragments, their armored shells cracking under the sheer heat.
Smoke and flame rose like pillars, painting the sky a burning orange.
Still, the Crawlers did not falter. The tide pressed ever onward, climbing over the corpses of their kin, mandibles snapping, legs clawing grooves into the scorched soil. The Sire loomed at their center, its colossal bulk steady, each step measured. The crimson crystal on its back pulsed like a beacon, and the swarm seemed to move in rhythm with that sinister glow.
"Everyone hold it in!" Sous' voice cut across the carnage, amplified by Penelope's rune-speech. "Take the wounded out first! Keep the lines steady!"
The order rippled outward. Cardinals near the flanks shifted formation with seamless discipline, shields interlocking as they stepped back to allow retrieval units to drag the injured into cover. Not a man screamed—not openly. The discipline of knights held even against the tide of monsters.
"Ember-Fang squad!" Sous roared, raising his sword high, its blade still crackling faintly with the remnants of lightning. "With me!"
The Ember-Fangs answered with a unified shout, their frames surging forward to flank their lord. Their swords burned bright, flames licking along the edges, each step leaving streaks of fire in the mud. Together, they pushed through the breach in the line, cutting a direct path toward the Sire itself.
Sous strode at their head. Penelope's aura blazed crimson-gold, his every swing carving through dozens of Crawlers. When he swept low, flames erupted; when he thrust forward, jagged ice skewered foes by the dozen; and when he raised his sword to the heavens, arcs of lightning descended like the judgment of saints.
The Ember-Fangs fought as extensions of his will. Their enchanted blades carved radiant trails, slashing limbs, splitting shells, burning flesh. Every swing was accompanied by fireburst incantations, every step carried runes thrumming to life, until the ground they crossed was a scorched corridor leading ever closer to the Sire.
But for every monster slain, ten more surged forward.
The swarm did not ebb. Crawlers hurled themselves at the Ember-Fangs with suicidal frenzy, clambering over the corpses of their kin, mandibles gnashing, legs latching onto armor. Sparks flew as claws raked runed plating. Screams of steel against chitin echoed in the storm of battle.
"Break their rhythm!" Sous bellowed.
His sword ignited in runic glow. "Solar Cleave!!"
With a downward slash, a burning arc of light tore through the mob, incinerating dozens in a single stroke. The blast seared the battlefield, a swath of ash and fire left in its wake. His men surged into the breach, blades whirling, their own incantations roaring in chorus.
One of the Ember-Fangs stumbled, a Crawler's claw tearing into the joint of his armor. Before the beast could drag him down, Sous was there, Penelope's arm shooting forward like a crimson hammer. The blow shattered the Crawler's skull, ichor spraying across the knight's frame.
Sous pulled him back to his feet with one massive hand. "Stand, knight! You bleed later!"
"Yes, my lord!" the man shouted, voice hoarse but burning with renewed fire.
The Ember-Fangs pressed forward again.
Overhead, another volley of incinerator rounds screamed through the sky, exploding into the swarms on either flank. The horizon became a storm of fire and smoke. The very air shook with heat, and ash began to fall like black snow upon the advancing knights.
Through the haze, the Sire's silhouette grew clearer.
It towered above them all, a grotesque monument of hunger and death. Its nine legs dug into the ground with each stride, leaving craters in their wake. Its mandibles were large enough to crush exo-frames whole, and its crystal pulsed brighter now—faster, as though feeding on the carnage. Every pulse sent the lesser Crawlers into greater frenzy, their movements jerking, frenzied, like puppets on a string.
Sous' eyes narrowed. His grip tightened on Penelope's blade.
This was the moment.
They had to strike the head of the serpent before the tide swallowed everything.
"Ember-Fangs!" Sous roared, his voice thunder across the battlefield. "Push with me! To the Sire!"
The squad answered as one. Their blades ignited, their frames surged, and together they carved a burning line toward the colossal monstrosity that ruled the Crimson Peak Crawlers.
Sous drove Penelope forward, crimson armor blazing, sword raised high.
Every strike he delivered was a promise.
Every command a vow.
They would reach the Sire.
And Sous Angelus would not stop until his blade tasted its heart.