CHAPTER 22: "TROLLS ATTACK" "VIKINGS WAR IN VALHALLA"

BY WILLIAM WARNER

CHAPTER 22: "TROLLS ATTACK" "VIKINGS WAR IN VALHALLA"

---

The black ash fields stretched before us like a cursed plain, swallowing sound and light alike. Each step crunched as though we marched on brittle bones. The air was a bit cold, but it was not the kind of cold that cleansed—it was the kind that lingered in the marrow, as if the land itself resented our presence. Ahead, the mining city loomed like a scar on the world, its jagged spires clawing upward, its walls lined with smoke and strange light. It did not feel like a place built for men; it was more like a wound carved into the earth by greed.

The silence between us was not the silence of soldiers but of warriors, each carrying the weight of their own pasts and their own reasons for fighting. Emily walked close at my side, her hand brushing mine now and then, a subtle reminder that I wasn’t alone even as the world felt like it was trying to devour us whole. Anisia moved just ahead of us, her stride steady, her gaze turned inward as though she were listening to voices none of us could hear. Charlie and Erika trudged toward the rear, muttering at one another as siblings do, their bickering sharp enough to cut the tension but never quite enough to sever it.

It was then I realized something was missing. Nicholas, Teresa, Alex, and Joe—the ones I had thought to send ahead—were nowhere to be seen. A knot tightened in my chest. I called their names, voice carrying across the cold expanse. “Nicholas! Teresa! Alex! Joe! Come forward!”

The wind answered me. But not them.

I turned on Deathskull, his golden skeleton frame a looming shadow against the gray sky. His optics glowed faint red, like embers smoldering in a furnace that had forgotten warmth.

“Where are they?” I demanded. “I asked for Nicholas, Teresa, Alex, Joe. I meant for them to open the way.”

His voice came, slow and empty of feeling. “They remain on the ships. Guardians for the fleet.”

I stared at him, fighting the urge to let anger run wild. My jaw tightened until my teeth ached. “You didn’t tell me. You robbed me of choice.”

Deathskull tilted his head, almost like a curious bird. “Choice is inefficient. The fleet is safer this way.”

I took a step toward him, every word heavy with the rage of betrayal. “Safe? Do you think safety wins wars? Do you think a machine can understand what’s lost when you strip away trust?”

The others were listening, though they tried to pretend they weren’t. The silence between us grew heavier than any blade.

Then, unexpectedly, Charlie and Erika pushed forward from the ranks. Charlie’s grin was shaky but eager, the kind of grin men wear when they’re too afraid to do anything else. “We’ll do it,” he said. “Send us in. We can find the way, slip past their defenses, get the gates open.”

Erika nudged him aside, her eyes sharper, steadier. “We’ll do it right. No theatrics. No stumbles. Just trust us.”

For a moment, I simply looked at them. Two who were not meant for this, yet willing to step where even hardened warriors would hesitate. I thought of the nights they spent bickering, their clumsy attempts at humor when the darkness pressed too close, and the way they always ended up back to back when danger came near. There was loyalty there—loyalty not born of orders or chains, but of choice. That was worth more than Deathskull’s “efficiency.”

I placed a hand on Charlie’s shoulder, the weight of it meant to steady him. His grin faltered, but his chin lifted. Then I looked at Erika, who met my eyes without flinching. “Go then,” I said. “Take only what you must. Shadows are your allies now. When the time comes, you’ll open the way for us. But if the shadows turn against you, run. No glory is worth your lives.”

They both nodded, one with nervous eagerness, the other with quiet resolve, before slipping back into the crowd.

The march resumed, but it no longer felt like a march of faceless soldiers. It felt like a band of warriors, each step carried by pride and purpose, each soul burning its own fire. I felt Emily’s presence beside me, silent but strong, her gaze fixed on the mining city ahead. Anisia’s eyes flickered, still listening to whispers none of us could hear. And Deathskull… he lumbered forward, unreadable, his golden frame gleaming with the false promise of an angel.

As the city drew closer, its walls rising like the jaws of a beast, I felt the world tighten around us. This was not just another battle. This was a test of what we were—men, women, Immortals, and machines—walking into the heart of something that threatened to consume us all.

And in that moment, I understood: war was the machine’s word for it. But for us, this was something older. A trial. A saga. A reckoning.

The blackened ash clung to our boots as we drew closer to the shadow of the mining city. The walls ahead were monstrous—part alloy, part stone, built with the arrogance of conquerors who thought themselves eternal. Their surface glowed faintly with defensive fields, a dull shimmer in the cold light, like the city itself was breathing. The smell of scorched metal and chemical fires grew stronger the nearer we marched, filling the air with a sharp taste that stung the tongue.

Emily walked beside me, her steps firm but not steady. I could sense the tension radiating from her in ways no armor could conceal. Her helmet turned slightly, her voice sharp and unsteady as she finally broke the silence.

“Tell me the truth, Willy,” she said. “Are you… are you trying to flirt with Anisia?”

The words cut sharper than any blade. I felt every warrior’s gaze nearby, even if they pretended not to listen. For the first time in the long march, I couldn’t summon words. My silence was an answer in itself, and not the one she wanted. My throat closed, my chest burned, but I said nothing.

Before Emily’s voice cracked into anger, Valrra moved between us like a spirit slipping through tension. She glanced at me once, her eyes hard with disappointment, then turned to Emily.

“What’s going on?” Valrra asked, her voice steady, though carrying the sharpness of a blade sliding free from its sheath.

Emily’s breath caught. I could hear it over the comms, muffled but heavy, the sound of someone fighting to stay composed. “You said… you said my Willy could control his lust.” Her voice faltered, trembling with suppressed tears. “Yet he’s still trying to flirt with Anisia!?”

The accusation hung heavy in the air. I wanted to deny it, to rip the words apart, but still I said nothing. My silence betrayed me.

Valrra straightened, her voice turning sharp as command. “In order for him to stay loyal to you, Emily, you need to be direct. You must constantly fulfill his sexual needs.”

Emily’s head jerked back as though struck. “I did!” she shouted, her voice breaking under the weight of humiliation.

Valrra didn’t waver. Her tone was cold, almost merciless. “Every night, Emily. You must fulfill his sexual needs every night. Only then will his fire burn for you and you alone.”

Emily froze. The comms carried the sound of her sharp breath, trembling on the edge of panic. Then her words came, broken, desperate. “Did he… did he cheat on me?”

I opened my mouth to finally speak, but before the words could leave me, the massive walls of the city loomed in full. The gates were ahead, guarded by towering figures, Trolls armed with shock cannons and jagged blades. The chance for confession was swallowed by the urgency of war.

I raised my hand and pointed toward the walls. “Charlie, Erika!” I barked. My voice was steel again, though inside I was breaking. “Get in there. Slip through the shadows. Open the gates.”

The siblings exchanged a quick glance, nodding in unison before peeling off into the ruined structures near the city, disappearing into the maze of blackened stone and rubble.

Then I turned back, catching Emily’s gaze through her visor. “You—by my side. Prepare for the charge.”

She hesitated, the weight of mistrust still hanging between us, but after a breath she moved closer. Her presence was reluctant at first, then steadier as her fingers brushed the hilt of her blade, ready to fight again. Even as my chest churned with guilt, her loyalty was unshaken. I didn’t deserve it. I thought to myself bitterly: Damn me. Damn my weakness. Damn Anisia for even being here.

And yet, as fate would have it, Emily stood tall next to me, her body angled toward the coming storm. I could feel her fire rekindling beside me, even if her heart was raw. I was unworthy, but still she was ready to fight as my queen, my shield, my blade.

On the other side of the gate, Charlie and Erika had already slipped into the shadows of the Troll guard post. The muffled clash of steel and the hiss of energy blades cut through the night. Troll bodies hit the ground one by one, their throaty growls silenced in the darkness. Erika knelt over the gate console, her fingers flying across its alien controls before she cursed, drew her plasma dagger, and drove it deep into the wiring. Sparks erupted, smoke billowed, and the plasma gate shuddered before its protective field collapsed in a burst of dying light.

To signal us, Erika shouldered her cannon and unleashed three bursts into the sky, each one cracking like thunder. The purple clouds above burned white with the impact.

The signal flare cut a jagged line of fire across the sky, Erika and Charlie Kirk’s message burning against the pale sunlight. For a heartbeat, relief steadied my chest—we knew the way forward. But that relief fractured almost instantly.

From the ruins flanking the path, shadows shifted. Trolls—hulking, thick-skinned beasts bred for war—rose with a guttural roar. Their arms coiled back, spears glinting with iron edges.

Erika and Charlie ran. Their boots tore against the stone, desperate to make it back to our line. But the distance was too great.

The first spear whistled through the air, striking Charlie square across the throat. He staggered, clutching at the wound, blood pouring through his fingers before his knees buckled beneath him.

The second came with a sickening accuracy. It drove into Erika’s neck, snapping her voice into silence before she collapsed beside him.

The flare still burned overhead, mocking us with its promise of guidance, while the two who lit it bled out on the ground below.

Our signal.

I tightened my grip on my chain-sword, its red-glowing teeth humming with restrained fury. The warriors around me shifted, weapons primed, their war-cries building in their throats. The charge was seconds away.

I looked once more at Emily. Her hands clenched her weapon, her body trembling with fury and doubt, but her gaze was locked forward. She hadn’t abandoned me. She would never abandon me.

And that made the guilt sharper than any wound I had ever carried.

“Emily,” I said lowly, my voice reaching her through the comms. “Stay with me. Whatever comes, stay with me.”

She didn’t answer—not with words. She simply raised her weapon, took her place beside me, and waited for the storm to break.

The gates yawned wide. The city awaited. The charge began.

I raised Revenge, my chainsword screaming with hunger as the gates cracked open before us. Emily ran at my side, her silver armor glinting in the dim violet light of Abraxas’s icebound sky, and together with our warriors we surged into the heart of the storm. The first clash came immediately—Jackal-headed warriors in burnished bronze armor, Trolls wielding gravity maces, and their snarls mixing with the shouts of my companions as steel met flesh.

The impact was brutal. My blade tore into the first Troll’s torso, and his scream was cut short as Revenge split his chest wide open. Emily’s magic exploded around me, crystalline silver spears erupting from the ground beneath our enemies, piercing them upward through the rectum and bursting out of their mouths in a grotesque brilliance that only she could conjure. I caught myself staring too long, comparing her merciless beauty to Anisia’s void-born sorcery—her black holes that tore enemies limb from limb, sucking body parts into singularity with a muted pop.

That moment’s distraction nearly killed me. A Troll swung a gravity mace down at my head, the weapon humming with destructive potential. I caught it mid-strike, ripping it from his massive hands with a burst of raw strength, and before he could recover, I drove my chainsword into his jaw, severing it clean and decapitating him in one stroke.

Then the larger Trolls came, towering brutes with scars etched across their flesh. They pressed against me with relentless force, but I answered with something deeper. I didn’t scream. I didn’t snarl. My rage had settled into silence, and every movement was precise, honed by the weight of betrayal and frustration that had been gnawing at me since Brimwald. My blade sang through the air, clean arcs of violence, splitting one brute in half from shoulder to hip, then another with a downward strike that shattered his skull. I fought with rage, yes—but rage stripped of all sound, all wildness. Cold. Efficient. Like a machine.

But my momentum was halted when Anubis’s elite stepped into the fray—Jackal-headed warriors clad in heavy golden armor. Their presence was immediate, suffocating. One lunged forward, his golden staff humming with power, while another circled to flank me. I seized the moment, lunging forward with my jaws. My wolfman teeth sank into the first Jackal’s throat, crushing bone and tearing flesh, ending him in a spray of blood. But before I could turn, the second warrior unleashed a sonic blast from his staff. The wave of sound cracked through the air and slammed me back, hurling me through the gates and into a half-collapsed building.

I rose, shaking off dust and stone, my body aching but unbroken. Inside, I wasn’t alone. From the shadows emerged something uncanny—a demonette clone of Maladrie. Her dark eyes gleamed with mockery, her body an imitation of her mistress, clad in leather and horns, every detail sculpted for temptation and cruelty.

The Jackal warrior followed me inside, needle in hand. He lunged forward, aiming to sedate me. With a snarl, I twisted, clamped my jaws down on his arm, and ripped it free before the needle could pierce my flesh. His scream was cut short as I summoned Revenge, driving the chainsword straight through his head. He yelped once, a final canine cry, and then collapsed in a heap.

Before I could breathe, the demonette was upon me. She seized the fallen syringe, and in a flash of motion, jammed it into my neck. A burning sting spread through my veins, threatening to pull me under. But there wasn’t enough venom left to overpower me. The world wavered, blurred for an instant—but I held on. With a roar, I grabbed her by the throat, threw her across the room, and slammed her onto a cracked table.

The table splintered beneath her weight, and the clone writhed beneath my grip, snarling with demonic hunger. My head pounded from the sting of the needle, but my grip tightened all the same. There was no hesitation left in me, no doubt, no mercy. My silent rage burned colder than ever, and the battle was far from over.

Outside the shattered walls, the battlefield still roared with steel, claws, and the screams of collapsing Jackal warriors. Anisia turned sharply toward Emily, her voice like a blade:

“Where is Willy?”

Emily’s eyes narrowed, her voice hot with venom.

“Why in the fuck do you care?”

Deathskull raised a skeletal arm and pointed toward the ruined building where I had been thrown.

But inside, I was no longer hearing them. My vision was tunneled. The Maladrie demonette clone writhed on the broken table, a living shadow of her maker. Her form radiated corruption and allure, every curve engineered to distract and disarm. Dark hair cascaded over her shoulders, black eyes glimmered with unnatural hunger, and her orange skin shimmered like molten copper under the flickering lights. Her leather boots scraped across the stone as she pushed herself up, her body arched in a way that pressed my primal urges into the forefront of my mind.

It wasn’t just appearance. I couldn’t tell if Maladire was broadcasting waves of temptation, or this was my own doing? I felt my armor hum, sensors struggling to filter out the energy, but I was already slipping. My heartbeat thundered. I could smell her—sulfur and sweetness, a scent designed to snare the predator inside me.

I staggered closer, instincts snarling louder than reason. The violent clarity I had in combat blurred into something raw, something animal. My fists clenched, my jaw tightened, and I felt the edge of myself beginning to fracture. She whispered without words, pressing visions of her seductive beauty as she struggled to get up.

I gave in.

Despite being a shadow compared to her maker, she still looked just as sexy. Dark hair, dark eyes, smooth orange demonette skin, and worst of all, being clad in black leather thigh-high boots. Her butt was raised in the air, as she started to get up.

I didn't think. I powered down my armor, undid my leather trousers, proceeded to grab her thigh booted legs, and yanked her closer towards me. She barely put up a fight and seemed to enjoy my sexual advances.

I spanked & licked her ass. With my erect penis, I forced it into her vagina, and began thrusting my hips repeatedly. The Demonette didn’t scream, not even a peep, or a struggle despite this interaction being nonconsensual.

Then, outside the ruin, footsteps crashed against the rubble. Anisia appeared in the doorway, her eyes sharp with alarm as she felt the pull of the psychic web. She lunged forward, trying to reach me, to drag me away from the demonette’s beautiful body. But I lashed at her, filling the air with a pressure that pushed Anisia back outside near the doorframe. She stumbled, now unconscious.

The demonette laughed, a sound like oil over fire, and the building seemed to warp around her. My thoughts flickered in and out—one second I was myself, the next I was drowning in visions of endless desire and hunger.

Then Emily entered.

Her presence sliced through the haze like a silver blade. She looked first at me, seeing the storm clawing at my mind, then at Anisia, half-collapsed just beyond the threshold, and finally at the demonette clone. She did not hesitate.

“Hey. Stop that!”

Her words cracked against me like thunder. I obeyed instantly. My body froze, as though her voice had reawakened the core of who I was. I staggered back, snapping free from my horney rage.

The demonette hissed, realizing her hold had shattered. She tried to rise, dark magic writhing at her fingertips. But Emily was faster. She used her sword, slicing upward. The clone’s head was severed cleanly, her body collapsing into a bloodbath.

Silence rushed in. My breath came heavy and uneven. I powered my armor back up, the familiar hum grounding me again. On the ground lay my chainsword, Revenge, waiting like a faithful hound. I gripped it tightly, the vibrations in its teeth matching the thrum of blood still pounding in my ears.

Emily extended her hand to me. Her touch steadied the storm inside. Without a word, I let her pull me back toward the battlefield, where our warriors still clashed against the tide of Jackals and Trolls.

Behind us, Anisia remained unconscious in the doorway, the dust settling over her form. Neither Emily nor I looked back. The war was still raging, and we had no room for hesitation.

Emily and I moved as one, blades and fury tearing through the horde in what felt less like combat and more like a relentless storm of violence. Each motion of her silver-crystal sorcery was like a symphony of piercing light, jagged shards erupting through the torsos and skulls of our foes. Beside her, I carved my path in silence, my chainsword grinding through flesh and armor, spraying the ground with gore as limbs fell away from bodies in heaps.

The battlefield beneath the city gates had become a tapestry of carnage. Trolls shrieked as their bodies were severed apart, Jackal warriors clawed and bit until they too were cast down into the growing mounds of death. The gates loomed above us, still glowing faintly from Erika’s wrecked console work, and beyond them, the half-lit streets of the mining city stretched into ruin.

Amid the chaos, movement flickered in the corner of my eye. Anisia stirred. She had been discarded outside the shattered doorway, unconscious and forgotten, but now her form pushed against the rubble, her eyes burning with renewed life. Without hesitation, she launched herself forward. Her sword cut through the air in a sweeping arc as she unleashed her fury on two Trolls, their bodies collapsing before they even realized she was awake. Black flames curled around her hands, and with a thrust of her palm, a shockwave of magic sent a Jackal warrior spiraling back, its body bursting apart into crackling dust.

Her resurgence bolstered the tide. Emily and I pressed harder, feeding into the momentum, fighting as if the universe itself had narrowed down to this one battle.

I drove Revenge into the gut of a Troll, tearing upward to sever its chest in two, then pivoted and hacked clean through another’s arm before it could bring down its mace. Every strike was deliberate, fueled not by screaming rage but by the quiet, relentless wrath that boiled within me. Rage without sound, rage without hesitation—a machine of flesh and bone driven only to kill.

The bodies piled high, and still they came. Yet, for every enemy that surged forward, another fell to our blades, to Anisia’s magic, to Emily’s crystalline impalements. It was an endless dance of blood.

I paused briefly, scanning the battlefield as blood dripped from the teeth of my chainsword. “Where’s Deathskull?” I asked Emily, my voice cutting through the roar of combat.

“I don’t know, but we should continue fighting,” she replied, her crystals erupting outward to skewer another Jackal through the chest.

And so we did.

The battle bent to us. Despite Deathskull’s absence, despite the fractures in our trust and the shadows that lurked between us, we carved our way through them all. When the smoke began to thin, when the last of the enemy collapsed at our feet, the silence that followed was deafening.

Emily, Anisia, Hanna, Cole, Elizabeth, Jimmy, Mathew, Pete, Rick, Valrra, Hailey, Droid L-84, and I stood together at the gates, weapons slick, bodies weary, yet still standing. Against the odds, against the weight of our own divisions, we had claimed victory.

The battlefield inside the city gates was still. Too still. No screams, no cries of wounded survivors, no lingering growls from the defeated. Just the wind carrying the stench of death and the hollow echo of quiet streets beyond.

Emily turned toward Droid L-84, who stood sentinel near Valrra and Hailey, its metallic frame faintly scorched but undamaged. “Thank you for protecting Valrra, and Hailey.”

The droid turned its head, voice flat, unburdened by pride. “Don’t mention it.”

But even as relief flickered in Emily’s tone, suspicion gnawed at me. My grip tightened on Revenge, its teeth humming as if in anticipation. “Where in the hell did they put their slaves? Are they scared, we’re about to free them?”

The silence that followed was answer enough.

We advanced slowly, our warband of survivors moving toward the main spire that loomed in the heart of the city. Its obsidian walls rose high, covered in strange carvings that shimmered faintly in green luminescence. Each step toward it carried the weight of unease, the sense that the battle had not ended but only shifted.

Then the doors of the spire shattered open.

From the abyss within, three grotesque figures spilled out, their bodies writhing with an unnatural rhythm. They were not Trolls. They were not Jackals. They were something worse—demonic Wraith spawns, their forms held together by tendrils of dark flesh. Each had a head that was nothing but a cavernous mouth lined with jagged teeth, and atop their skulls pulsed glowing tendrils that spat arcs of green energy across the broken stones. Their two legs carried them with terrifying speed, tentacles whipping outward like lashes as they shrieked in tones not meant for mortal ears.

I raised my arm and signaled. Valrra and Hailey fell back instantly, pulling the warriors with them. The Immortals would face this alone.

The ground shook as the spawns advanced, every step leaving black scorch marks. We met them head-on. Emily’s crystals erupted in volleys, stabbing into their limbs only for the creatures to regenerate in sickening bursts of flesh. Anisia’s fire burned across their hides, slowing their movements, while Hanna and Cole drove their blades into writhing tentacles, hacking them off only to watch new ones sprout again.

I threw myself at the nearest beast, Revenge screaming as its serrated teeth tore through a writhing arm, severing it clean from the mass. The creature howled, spraying green fire from the tendril atop its head, scorching the stone where I had been a moment before. I lunged again, silent rage driving me, each swing carving deeper into its hide, each strike pushing back against the horror it unleashed.

But as I closed in, I saw them—the tattoos. Strange markings glowed faintly across their distorted flesh, swirling into patterns too familiar to be coincidence. They were almost identical to the tattoos borne by Alex, Joe, and Nicholas. The sight churned my stomach, pressing questions I had no time to ask. Were these spawns once men? Had they been twisted into this form?

The thought clawed at me, but there was no time to dwell. Another spawn lunged, its mouth opening wide enough to engulf me whole. I sidestepped, drove Revenge upward, and split its maw in two, tearing flesh and spraying ichor across the ground. Emily and Anisia pressed the attack with me, the three of us moving like blades of one weapon.

And then, with blood, fire, and crystal, we subdued them. The three beasts collapsed, twitching in spasms of their unnatural lives, before finally dissolving into nothing more than heaps of black sludge on the stone floor.

The silence returned once more, heavy and suffocating, hanging over us as the spire loomed higher still. The battle had been won, but the war beneath the surface had only just begun.

A bright golden hue spread across the ruins of the battlefield, bathing the city gates and shattered buildings in a celestial glow. It wasn’t natural sunlight—it was something far more dangerous, radiating from the spire that towered in the heart of the mining city. The light pulsed as though alive, flickering in steady rhythm, drawing every eye upward.

I felt it before I saw it, a hum in the air that pressed against the skin, rattled bones, and charged the atmosphere with unnatural tension. My instincts screamed, and I didn’t hesitate. I started forward, pushing past the wreckage and blood-stained stone, stepping into the yawning threshold of the spire.

The interior swallowed me in shadow, broken only by the alien radiance spilling from above. The structure was unlike any mine or fortress I had ever seen. Its walls pulsed faintly, alive with veins of energy that led upward, all converging at the peak where the glow was born. I stepped deeper—and froze.

A crowd awaited me.

They stood shoulder to shoulder, lining the corridor and blocking the path forward. Maladrie clones. Dozens of them. Their identical features made the air uncanny—dark eyes, orange-tinged skin, obsidian hair spilling down over leather straps and thigh-high boots. Each one wore the same sinister smirk, an army of shadows born from the same wicked mold. Their eyes locked on me in unison, and for the first time in this war, I felt as if I were looking at an ocean of death.

Before I could act, the silence broke.

“Will, I think everyone should turn on their plasma shields, I’m seeing an intense energy about to burst from the top of the spire,” Droid L-84’s voice cut through the tension like a blade.

I followed its gaze upward. Through the haze of golden light, I made out the faint silhouette of Deathskull at a console high above. His skeletal frame moved with precision, claws darting across ancient controls, his entire focus locked on the object in his grasp. The Sphere.

My stomach dropped. The Sphere pulsed violently, threads of golden energy bleeding outward in arcs. It wasn’t just glowing—it was charging.

I didn’t waste a second. “Turn on your plasma shields, all of you!” I roared, my voice cutting through the din.

Chaos erupted. Emily, the Immortals, and I moved instantly, rushing to Valrra, Hailey, Kyle, and Krystal, throwing ourselves atop them to shield their mortal bodies with our armored forms. The others followed suit, creating a living wall of protection as the light above reached its crescendo.

The Sphere discharged.

A beam of raw energy tore down from the spire, a golden storm that ripped through the battlefield. The air vibrated as flesh and blood vaporized in an instant. Our mortal warriors—Anglo-Saxons, Vikings, men and women alike who had hurled themselves fearlessly into the heart of battle—were swallowed and silenced beneath the weight of their own armor. Their bodies vaporized, their spirits snuffed out like candles, yet their steel shells clattered empty to the ground.

The droids fared no better. Their frames remained intact, but the surge crippled their cores, shutting them down in waves. The silence that followed was only broken by the hiss of sparking circuitry.

When the light dimmed, what was left of our army was a graveyard of hollow armor and fallen machines. Only Valrra, Hailey, Kyle, and Krystal stirred beneath us, alive by fortune and the desperate protection we had given them.

Our triumph had been shattered in an instant.

Then the true slaughter began.

The Maladrie clones moved as one, their bows materializing in hands that shimmered with venomous energy. The air sang with the release of arrows—tipped not with steel, but with gravity-forged venom that pulsed like molten green fire. They struck us hard, piercing beneath our nano chainmail, searing into flesh with toxic precision.

I staggered, the venom crawling through my veins like fire. My muscles strained to obey, but every movement dragged as though I were drowning. Beside me, Emily gritted her teeth, her eyes burning with defiance even as the toxin slowed her arms. The Immortals faltered, their blades wavering, each step heavy as lead.

The mortals we had protected were untouched, hidden behind our wall of flesh and shields. But we were powerless to aid them.

The venom did its work well, stealing our speed, draining our strength, forcing us to our knees. The battlefield that had echoed with victory only moments before was once again drowned in the grim weight of despair.

And above it all, the spire still pulsed with golden light, Deathskull’s silhouette steady at the console, the Sphere thrumming in his grip as though the universe itself was being rewritten by his hands.

The venom coursed through my veins, dragging me down like lead. Every movement was an effort, every breath a rasp. Emily collapsed beside me, her hand clutching her side where an arrow had struck. Elizabeth, Cole, Mathew, Rick, Pete, Jimmy, Hanna, and Anisia all faltered in the dust, caught in the same relentless grip. We were warriors, but the poison made us fragile, bound us in invisible chains.

Droid L-84 was the only one untouched by venom, but he was no help—his frame lay motionless, powered down, silent as metal stone.

The Spire loomed, its doors already open, shadows spilling out across the battlefield. From that darkness came Deathskull, sparks still leaping from his frame, his steel footsteps echoing across the broken ground. Anubis stalked at his side, golden eyes burning like small suns. Then Maladrie appeared, bow in hand, her lips curved in that cruel smile that promised only pain.

I forced myself forward, rage giving me one more heartbeat of strength. I tried to lift my chainsword, but the venom crippled my muscles, dragging me back to the ground. Maladrie lost her arrow, and it sank deep. Fire spread through me again, and I collapsed.

I spat blood, glaring up at Deathskull.

“You fucking bitch machine!”

He stopped, tilting his head, then spoke with the voice of cold iron.

“Don’t take this personally, you furry cunt! You’ll realize, art is worthless, creation is useless, and life is useless.”

My body trembled, but I forced the words out.

“I was wrong to think you were the answer to a better society! You just killed people I trusted you to rule.”

Deathskull’s optics glowed brighter, his tone sharp as a blade.

“You said it yourself. Don’t get too attached to these mortals. You went against your own advice. What a shame.”

His words cut deeper than steel. I faltered, broken between fury and grief, until Maladrie’s voice slid across the battlefield like poisoned honey.

“He’s right, so it’s time to take away the remaining mortals from you, boo!”

She snapped her fingers.

From the Spire’s shadows stepped her clones—uncanny reflections of herself. They looked human at first glance, but there was something wrong about them, something that made the blood run cold. Their movements were too smooth, their smiles too precise, their eyes too empty. They were familiar yet alien, seductive yet lifeless. Demonette flesh made into women that shouldn’t exist.

We lay powerless as they closed in. Emily’s hand slipped on her sword, unable to lift it. Elizabeth reached out weakly, her fingers trembling. The others were no better, each of us pinned down by the venom, reduced to helpless onlookers.

The clones moved quickly. Valrra was seized and dragged screaming into the Spire. Kyle fought with desperate strength, but three clones pulled him under, his armor scraping across the stone. Krystal was torn away, her cries echoing into the hollow dark. Hailey’s voice rose in a single sharp scream before it was cut off, her body dragged into the shadows.

They were taken from us—one by one, torn from our side.

I reached out, my hand clawing at the dirt, chainsword slipping uselessly from my grip. All around me my companions fell silent, bound in venom’s chokehold. Droid L-84’s still frame lay beside us, cold and inert.

And I could do nothing as the people I had sworn to protect disappeared into enemy hands.

After our mortal friends were dragged into enemy hands, the battlefield went silent except for our labored breaths. The venom still burned in our veins, weighing us down, suffocating us. Then—cutting through the silence—came the sound of a war horn. It rose like thunder across the valley, deep, ancient, and filled with rage.

From the distance, through the purple haze of Abraxas’s dying skies, came a marching horde. At their head was a towering figure I recognized even through the poison haze. Sigvard—the Troll who had escaped Anubis’s lair. His massive frame and mandrill snout were scarred, his body battered, yet his eyes burned with vengeance. He had gathered an army, rebels who dared to rise against their former master. Their cries echoed as they surged forward, the horn sounding again, promising fire and blood for Anubis.

Sigvard shouted, “I’m Sigvard, coming to kill you Anubis!”

But their fury would not be enough.

From the Spire steps, Deathskull’s voice carried across the field like iron grinding on stone.

“Let’s use the sphere to blast them, and the core of this miserable planet. Afterwards we leave.”

Maladrie smiled, venom glinting in her teeth, and with a single sharp snap of her fingers, her demonette clones readied their bows, their faces frozen in cruel, uncanny grins. The Jackal-headed warriors raised their golden staves, the Troll slaves clutched their weapons, and all prepared to meet the Rebel Trolls head-on.

Above them, Deathskull ascended the Spire again. The Arckon Sphere pulsed in his metallic hands, light gathering until it glowed like a newborn sun. With a single motion, the Sphere unleashed its wrath.

The beam ripped across the land, vaporizing the Rebel Troll horde where they stood. Their armor, their flesh, their cries—gone in a heartbeat, reduced to ash and silence. The battlefield, once filled with defiant roars, became a grave of smoke and heat. Only Sigvard survived, his instincts saving him as he hurled his body behind the jagged ruins of a mining pillar just before the blast consumed his followers.

The Sphere’s energy did not stop there. Deathskull turned its light downward, into the planet itself. The ground shuddered violently beneath us, cracks tearing open across the blackened soil. A low groan rose from deep within Abraxas, the sound of a dying world. The purple forests trembled in the distance, their roots twisting as fissures consumed them.

From the top of the Spire, Deathskull descended, the Arckon Sphere glowing in his hands like a heart torn from the chest of a god.

Maladrie stepped forward, her voice carrying sharp and triumphant.

“Alright everyone, back to the portal we go.”

She snapped her fingers, and reality split open in a searing crack. A swirling portal bloomed, its light spilling across the ruined city. One by one, they stepped through—Maladrie herself first, her clones following like shadows. Anubis disappeared in silence, golden eyes flickering. The Jackal warriors and their Troll allies marched into the light. And finally, Deathskull entered, the Sphere clasped in his cold hands.

Then they were gone. And they took our remaining mortal friends with them.

The portal collapsed into nothing, leaving only silence and the slow groan of a planet breaking apart. Emily struggled to her feet, Anisia clutching her arm for balance. Hanna and Elizabeth staggered near, their faces pale beneath their helmets. Cole, Pete, Mathew, Rick, and Jimmy stood wounded but alive, staring at the Spire as tremors rattled the ground. Droid L-84 lay beside us, still lifeless from the Sphere’s earlier blast.

The tremors became violent convulsions. The sky itself split, streaked with fire. From the void of space, we would have seen Abraxas tearing apart from within, its core eroding, collapsing into a violent detonation.

And then—it exploded.

A blast brighter than a thousand suns tore through the void, hurling fragments of the world into the abyss of space. Abraxas was gone, reduced to dust and ruin.

Hanna, Cole, Pete, Mathew, Rick, Jimmy, Elizabeth, Droid L-84, Emily, Anisia, and I—eleven souls left—were cast adrift, half-asleep, suspended between life and death, floating in the cold silence of space.

Our war had cost us the world beneath our feet, and now the cosmos itself carried us like ghosts without a home.

---

CHAPTER 22: "TROLLS ATTACK" "VIKINGS WAR IN VALHALLA"