- Medium Kandarinian town -
Wing smiled again with one of his warm smiles.
-"Thanks, Nex. While humans are ordinary food for you, I... like to think of myself as a hunter. I pride myself on the very process of the hunt. The food I get is the reward. Just as nature intended, don't you think?"
The lieutenant came to a stop.
-"Unfortunately, duties of Kandarin call me away. I will keep your suggestions in mind. We will meet again, Captain. Meanwhile, I suggest you go and familiarize yourself with your regiment. Get to know the people you'll be sending to their deaths. It's always good practise to comfort your subordinates by letting them place the blame for their deaths on someone or something other than their own incompetence. Bye-bye."
--- --- ---
- South-Western Terian coast, forest -
Konstantin sighed.
-"Yes, I suppose. After all, you and I are enemies, aren't we?"
He got off the ground. At the same time, all of his pauks but one strode out of the meadow, around the forest.
-"I can honestly say I tried to convince you, so if I hear of your deaths, I can still sleep peacefully at night. Although by your looks... Even if you were somehow more powerful than an ordinary pani out for a stroll, I sincerely doubt your abilities when matched against a vischy. Either way, good luck. You're going to need it in this area, especially with the news I heard of captain Eris' punishment squads mobilized here recently."
Utilizing the spines around the pauk's carapace, Konstantin climbed on top of it.
-"Last chance to reconsider before I move off."
--- --- ---
- South-East coast of Terian -
The Marcher shook its leg in annoyance of being cracked by an Ogre. The Necrolyte inside of the turtle-like shell on top of the towering legs seemed to be completely oblivious of Duilin charging his attack. Instead, he seemed concentrated on driving his Marcher into the enemy midst, albeit without doing much damage. The troops easily avoided the towering legs before they slammed the ground.
Something strange was happening to the cylindrical mess stuck to the bottom of the Marcher. The sinew and flesh pulsated once, and began to contract in an odd fashion, slowly rotating around its centre. It looked like a giant spring coiling itself for some unknown purpose.
Meanwhile, the other Marchers started to move in. Their movements were much more random than the one in the middle, trying to trample as many soldiers as they could. Keshel apathetically observed the fight from the only Marcher still standing motionlessly on a hilltop, some distance away from the battle.
-"Hey, Yevgeny - see that guy up there? The one with the cute little sparks in between his hands?"
-"What about him, pan Keshel?"
-"Do you think a fireball like that one is enough to destroy a Marcher?"
-"Difficult to say, pan acting-lieutenant. Firstly, we cannot really know how much energy that pan can concentrate in a fireball of any size, that depends solely on his skill. Second, although pure bone mertvetzi are highly resistant to flame, it is possible that the attack is meant to knock the Khodovik down and not obliterate the cockpit completely... Pity, though, because that is what I would have done in the flying pan's place."
Yevgeny scanned the battlefield for one last time.
-"I will take my leave of you, pan Keshel. If yonder force is enough to kill fourteen Necrolytes, then it is enough to kill fifteen as well. Unfortunately, I cannot be allowed to die yet. I must report to my superiors on the status of this regiment here."
-"Go ahead, Yevgeny. Meanwhile..." Keshel took out an almost one metre-long blade with a sinister-looking serrated section in the middle. "I'm going to decorate your Khodoviks there with that novice's guts. Later."
Keshel leaped off the Marcher, landing gracefully on the ground below, and charging right into the swarm of attackers. Yevgeny the Necrolyte looked at the dark figure.
-"You do that, acting-lieutenant pan Keshel the Voracious." His face twisted into a markedly evil grin. "You do that."
With those words, Yevgeny's Marcher mutated itself slightly. Four of its eight legs dropped to the ground, and attached themselves as extensions of the remaining four, making the Marcher even taller than usual. The abomination turned around, and began galloping away from the scene of the massacre at a ridiculous speed, granted to it by the extension of its already long legs.
---
Keshel's appearance did not go unnoticed. Several enemy soldiers turned around, just in time to see a dark silhouette in an inhumanly high leap, and perhaps the bleak shine of a long blade. Perhaps they were alive long enough to see rays of light illuminating the horrible jagged teeth of the sword's serrated part, ready to rip the flesh of the unsuspecting warriors.
Perhaps.
But the movement of the Kandarinian manslayer was so diabolically swift that the last thing the soldiers saw - definitely the last thing they felt - was the sword sinking its teeth deep into their flesh, just long enough to disrupt all surface tissue. This was the cruelty of Keshel's terrible weapon: it disabled its victims and left them alive to bleed to death.
Of course, Keshel himself did not dwell on the fates of the fallen soldiers. He continued to carve his way through the horde, now in a state unable to tell friend from foe. That's why they called him Keshel the Voracious, after all. The Necrolytes didn't particularly mind, as Keshel created more corpses than zombies he destroyed.
