Ankara, Earlier

  As Gnar Torahkin took Its first steps as a Kharnidd Executioner, It was approached by two of Its new peers. An Elder flew down from the sky, followed by a hulking Champion who appeared before the Executioner in a swirl of dust. The Champion loomed over Gnar threateningly, but It showed no fear as It stared up at Its peer stoically. Eventually, the Champion’s toadlike head rumbled out, “You have broken your oath, Torahkin. Infighting cannot be allowed while we are on the warpath.”

  Gnar didn’t say anything at the accusation, allowing Its fellow’s words to pass in silence. It was guilty as sin, yet Gnar could hardly bring Itself to care as Its mind wandered to other things. The Champion leaned even closer, Its breath hot on the Executioner’s face as Its rage grew, “Nothing to say for yourself? Your actions are grounds for execution.”

  Gnar snorted at the irony of the comment. Wasn’t It supposed to be the Executioner? That reaction only further angered the Champion, “You-“

  “Enough Plokarim.” The Elder interrupted, Its voice raspy yet commanding as it calmed Its companion, “Will you contribute to the infighting, as well? What’s done is done. Blungosan was weak. Gnar is strong.”

  The Champion still looked upset, but It backed off at the Elder’s words. The smaller figure studied Gnar carefully, Its six eyes flashing intelligently, “In another time, I would congratulate you on your ascension. Unfortunately, Plokarim is right. The laws of our People condemn you to die. Thus, I have one question: How do you wish to die?”

  Gnar held back Its excitement. They had finally asked that question, which It answered without hesitation, “I wish to die in battle. I wish to avenge myself.”

  That provoked a sharp-toothed grin from the Elder, the creature truly pleased at this answer, “Then I will not interfere. Go forth and hunt.”

  Gnar turned and sped away, a face appearing in Its mind’s eye. It would gather what few allies It had remaining. Then It would seek and stalk this prey.

  Soon, It would have Its revenge.

  …

  Markus Haraldson ran in front of the column of humans, eliminating any threat in their way. He felt their destination drawing closer and heard the chaotic sounds of fighting in the near distance. Yet, Markus didn’t relax. Disaster often struck right on the last leg of the journey.

  Then, as if to prove him right, death breathed down his neck.

  A last-minute teleportation saved Markus’s life, the man vanishing in a flash of light as a blade flashed through the air where he used to be. Markus activated his Tech and Hypersight Capacity without hesitation, whipping around to face the threat. Only Hypersight allowed him to see the Kharnidd’s follow-up attack, and only a miracle allowed him to bring his knives up in time to block it. The enemy’s strike was edged in bright red power, and when it hit Markus’s daggers, there was a great discharge of energy. Bolts of crimson electricity scorched the air, and the strength of the attack was so great that it sent Markus flying backward uncontrollably.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  His body crashed through multiple buildings in several loud booms, rocks and metal flying everywhere as he did. Through the haze of pain and confusion, the Pioneer felt something he hadn’t felt in some time.

  He felt fear.

  …

  Jordan and the others had only a few roars as their warning before the Kharnidd were upon them. A swarm of Drones, led by a few Thralls, came bolting from the side streets surrounding them. The cops and the Pioneers didn’t hesitate to start shooting at the enemy, the report of their firearms answering the Xenos’s war cries, yet Jordan realized immediately that there were too many Kharnidd. If something wasn’t done quickly, they’d take severe casualties. He swiftly reached into his storage and withdrew a black sphere, switching it on and hurling it at the incoming horde. The High Explosive was built with a shorter fuse than standard, so it wasn’t more than a second before it let loose its payload with a deafening rumble. Several of the other Pioneers did the same, and the night was soon filled with a cacophony of explosions. But even as the din grew louder, a voice cut through the noise and gave out new orders, “FORWARD! DOUBLE TIME.”

  It was Peralta’s voice that boomed out and exhorted the humans to keep moving. They were too vulnerable to sit still in a place like this. The civilians rushed forward in a disorganized, panicked mass, yet most were smart enough to remain behind the fighters trying to defend them. In the meantime, those fighters had begun to take casualties. Jordan watched several policemen get dismembered out of the corner of his eye, their screams haunting his imagination. The young man was unable to leap to the rescue because he was fighting for his life as it was. He dodged and cut down a small army of Drones as the weaker foes came after him, determined to give their lives for his. While Jordan defeated them all, he certainly didn’t do it without injuries. Numerous elongated claws reached for his skin, some of them finding flesh and opening cuts across Jordan’s back and arms. By the time he finished off the enemy forces, he looked like he’d walked blindfolded through a razor factory.

  Jordan winced as he felt the Kharnidd poison flowing through his veins, weakening him and causing his vision to grow blurry. It didn’t feel like a fatal dose, so there was a chance that Jordan could get out of here and live. But even if he did, he knew that the poison was shaving off his lifespan by the minute. Even if it all eventually worked its way out of his system, he wouldn’t be able to live a long life.

  Jordan worked to put the future implications out of his mind and focus on the present. He and the other Pioneers managed to handle most of the incoming Kharnidd in a storm of blades and gunfire, keeping the civilians moving all the while. They were rapidly approaching their destination, but with Markus distracted elsewhere, there was no one to help them break through. As he realized this, Jordan heard Plincaron shout, “I’LL GO TO THE FRONT! STAY HERE AND HOLD THE LINE!”

  The young man could barely bring himself to shout out an affirmation as he leaped forward to cut down a Thrall as it was being distracted by Gon. The poor Dunid looked even more beat up than Jordan felt, and he allowed himself a moment of concern for his friend before looking around. It finally looked like the Pioneers had dealt with the worst of the charge, though a few Dones were still scampering around. Jordan wondered briefly if the enemy would truly go down just like that.

  Then, he felt the rumbling.

  The ground quaked with the footsteps of an incoming predator. Jordan turned and saw the massive body of a lizard-headed Behemoth running right for their rear. The creature’s long legs ate up ground much faster than the humans could run, mainly the civilians, and ice ran through Jordan’s veins when he recognized that they only had a few minutes before the beast was upon them. The humans might’ve had a slim chance to get back to friendly territory in time if it weren’t for the Greater Thralls. A duo of the leather-winged foes swooped over the group’s heads in the blink of an eye, falling right in front of their entire column. Trapped between a rock and a hard place, the group had no choice but to screech to a halt, more screams coming out from the civilian column. Mind working quickly, Jordan tried to devise a plan.

  Only Peralta stood between them and the Behemoth in the back. How long could the Delta class last against that thing? Could Jordan help? No, he couldn’t do anything against a Gamma class. He’d be more helpful dealing with the Delta class Thralls in the front. But should he really disobey orders to go to help Plincaron? The lieutenant might be outnumbered, but he’d have a decent shot if the other lieutenant on the opposite flank went to help. Would he even need Jordan’s help?

  As Jordan agonized over this decision, he spotted some movement out of the corner of his eye. In the shadow of a nearby alleyway, his Eyes of the Hound picked up something well hidden from the others. Though all he really saw was a slight twitch of movement. And a vibrant yellow pupil.

  “GET DOWN!” Jordan roared, but it was too late. Something long shot out of the alleyway and toward the Pioneers in a movement that was too fast to follow. Jordan only managed to leap out of the way because he’d seen it coming. But the man behind him wasn’t so lucky. A geyser of bright red watered the ground and splashed Jordan from behind. From the ground, the young man turned to look at the source.

  And he met the wide gaze of James Macneil.

  The redhead vomited more blood and crumpled backward as the long limb retracted back into the alleyway, and Jordan turned again to watch as the new enemy stepped forward and into the moonlight. It was a lanky creature, humanoid and physically similar to the Greater Psykers, yet taller and more dexterous in its movements. Its arms were inhumanly long, almost dragging across the ground, and tipped with sharp ebony spearpoints. The Greater Bonepiercer smiled at the Pioneers as it came within sight, revealing a mouthful of sharp white teeth under its mask of dark bone. Its trio of yellow eyes glowed menacingly as it uttered a guttural phrase that sent shivers up the soldiers’ backs, even though none of them understood it:

  “Wriggle as much as you like. You’re already caught.”