《Black Organs of Sunlight》


 Close the Doors!

    His straw-blonde hair was cut short in the standardized military style¡ª cut weekly precisely at 2:00 pm on Thursdays¡ª but that didn¡¯t stop it from fluttering in the wind, perhaps to match Anya¡¯s rising heartbeat. Clouds had covered the sun as though to illuminate him against the backdrop of a brown city whose bleach-white walls had seen far too many years of disrepair to maintain their intended hue. Some were cracked, but most had stood the test of time. And yet David¡¯s skin reminded her of what once must have been in this city of red-white walls stained by time and abandonment. Disrepaired and forgotten, left to rot with the other denizens of this backwater hole only the finest waste found itself with the mercy of gracing.


    But David¡¯s pure blue eyes lit up the sky even as it was covered what must have been the last time before sunset. An endless backdrop of gray had begun to set in several hours ago, but now had finally reached them. Despite the lack of light his eyes sparkled against the drab scenery, and were brilliantly highlighted by the Prussian-Blue coat they all wore. Most were stained, but David¡¯s was not. Anya herself wore a ratty old thing with a skirt that may as well have been at the upper thigh for all the holes below it¡ª as the corps only bothered patching the part strictly necessary to maintain decorum¡ª and it was so full of tiny patches she wasn¡¯t sure if they were from rot or bullet-holes.


    So many of her comrades had fallen to get here, but they had always thought ¡°here¡± would be an opulent palace in the service of the Emperor¡¯s honor-guard. It wasn¡¯t. It was here¡ª a shithole barely noted on the map whose only defining feature was its disproportionately large base with walls that extended far below the surface and whose footprint allegedly dwarfed even the High Palace from below. But she¡¯d never seen that, and perhaps never would.


    From just behind the corrugated metal sliding door to the 557th Outlying Post of the Grand Imperial Military, Anya heard David scream.


    ¡°Close the doors!¡±


    It took all her meager augmented strength to move them a single inch on the best of days, but today she threw them together five feet at a time, for today she had the privilege of bearing witness to David¡¯s great coronation as a prince of his grand stature deserved. He wasn''t of royal blood, of course. The Imperial family was a secretive bunch and she knew they¡¯d never send one of their own to fuck-all nowhere, but for his looks and charm Anya had second-guessed that fact many times in her short few weeks on the base. But as much as those weeks had felt like years for their fullness, and as much as she desperately wanted to wait for him to come inside, even if for no other reason than to bask in one of these brief moments of her superior officer¡¯s presence just a little longer, she knew the door must be closed.Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    From behind, David was overshadowed by a body. Two bodies. Three bodies. Five bodies. A hundred contorted bodies mashed together like some outline of a larger corpse composed itself of the haphazardly-strewn and half-rotting masses of others. But none of them were rotting when the smell of iron wafted over her like some all-consuming wall of death to wash out everything else. It was the striking smell of aerosolized meat found only in fresh blood, not rot. It wasn¡¯t a scene of days-old corpses bleached by the sun and bloated by time. There had been no such interval between their living deaths and playdough combination. There was only gore as Anya only just avoided falling to her knees¡ª yet unable to stop trembling like a doe in the woods watching its mother mauled by a tiger or perhaps shot with a five-hundred gage rifle¡ª as the white gleam of bone highlighted itself against brown walls and city streets to flash nearer to David¡¯s neck. But he didn¡¯t scream in fear or agony, he merely commanded Anya as her superior officer:


    ¡°Close the goddamn doo¡ª¡±


    But he was not granted the traditional superior¡¯s privilege of finishing the words of a command. Bone flashed against skin and his head floated absent the neck for a brief moment lasting perhaps six hours as Anya fought against the newly-found sensation of a thousand times gravity. Her bones trembled as the quadriceps acted against them, feeling at any time ready to give way, the tendons straining far beyond their capacity. Perhaps her augmentation surgery had been worth something after all, but she knew for all the adrenaline coursing through her veins in this moment screaming a single thought in repeated unison through every molecule of air that could carry sound to her ears that revenge would not be something she could take.


    The creature of blood and exposed bone and sinew glistened through every open pore composed of two bodies at an angle with a gap exposed between them. Its endless rivers poured into the brown streets, staining them a much brighter shade. David¡¯s body had fallen to the ground, but did not remain there for long. It was picked up by a thousand tendrils composed of tendons attached to bone needles. Anchored by a bed of fishhooks, David was brought back to the height of his auburn hair atop a bloody mess of a head. The head was reattached and the body of bodies opened to allow him to come inside.


    Anya screamed but to no effect. Her lungs felt on the verge of collapse, her legs on the verge of breaking, her arms screamed louder than her voice ever could in an endless chorus of fresh agony. But through it all, the doors closed and the lock fastened to leave her alone with nothing but thoughts perhaps worse than the scene that had unfolded in the second prior.


    She continued to scream, but there was only silence.

 Code Fifty-Two

    The sun was once again closed off from this cold place whose dim lights shined with just enough light to see the rusted-out rails of a newly-renovated building and its endless stretches of gray-white concrete. There were a hundred thousand kilometers of space down here, or so it was said. An exaggeration, of course, but for all her days in the bunker Anya had never seen the end of it. Room after room, hall after hall, every day always new. Always the same gray-white and red, but never with the same details. All the little chips and signs of wear never stayed the same. Perhaps the walls moved! Or perhaps it was regenerative. It had never been clear just how the bunker was repaired, and its staff was far too small for such an enormous place. Perhaps it was a sign of the times, with war looming on the horizon. Perhaps she would be restationed soon.


    But no matter how much the situation refused to change from day to day, now it had. It could no longer be forestalled. Anya had to face the reality outside. There were no sounds through the thick door, nor light from the absent windows. Only the looming dread that billowed up from her to displace all air in the large and empty room she found herself in today. In a panic, she began to run to the nearest comms station where she could issue the order to shut down the base. It wasn¡¯t her position, of course, but even in the half-second that had passed in considering the impact of this situation too much time had passed. If they didn¡¯t act quickly there would be no second chance.


    For this reason as her legs began to fall forward her hand fell inward to the pocket deepest inside her outer coat to the pill carrier it should never touch through the course of a normal day. Her fingers twisted the lid from inside the pocket and removed a single one of her fourteen remaining pellets; each one was worth an unknown fortune but no matter how much Melissa chastised her for wasting resources, Raethor never complained and never issued the order to stop. He¡¯d only tease her in a question like ¡°How are the pellets today, Anya? Sufficient to task I assume?¡± It may as well have been an order to someone else, but to Anya the near-command never seemed to carry authority. In this case she was sure he wouldn¡¯t mind, however.


    The pill was sour, like the taste of spoiled milk, but went down quickly even without a drink, half-dissolved by the time it even reached her stomach, and coursing fully through her veins within the next handful of seconds. Her neck twitched as energy boiled up from within. Even after her surgery it was too much to handle. Her hands grasped at the air with twitching fingers and her toes curled through every running step. If it were normal physiology she was certain the ground would be damp with the pooling of sweat and her body would be screaming at her to remove every scrap of cloth from her body and find a chest of ice to sleep in, but the pills bypassed all that. Where did the energy come from? Certainly not from within, but in this moment it did not matter.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Whatever purpose this building served, however hidden it was to her, it was Anya¡¯s duty to protect it no matter the personal and material cost. No matter what damage these pills would do to her with time, it was more important that she and they survive now than to think about some uncertain future destined to never come if not protected in the present. So she ran and put little dents in the concrete with each step. There was noise and pain, but both would heal over time. Tomorrow the room would return to normal and the door would open and it would all be well. The carnage outside was just a test! An experiment gone awry! Military reinforcements would arrive soon and they¡¯d restore order to the city as they always had. There was no cause for alarm. All the same, the dents in the concrete grew as her pace quickened. The rebar below began to deform, and as it did Anya¡¯s heel began to grow bruised. So much force was not meant to travel through even the augmented body¡ª not without proper secondary augmentation¡ª but however much Melissa would chastise her for recklessly endangering her combat ability by damaging her feet and legs, it was necessary. It hurt, but she would regenerate.


    In a bloody heap, Anya reached the com line and reached out for the jagged white link that would enable her to give the necessary order. Collapsed on the ground and exhausted, Anya shoved the toothlike connection into her wrist and shivered from toes to neck as it connected, twitching her bruised ankles and causing intense pain in the process. But at last, five or ten seconds after David¡¯s death and five or ten seconds too late, Anya felt the base interweave into her senses.


    The sensation was always overwhelming as the expanse of vision grew past its natural limits. Worse, the sensation of a thousand eyes of no moisture, many without light, was always disorienting in the worst way possible. The lack of humidity in some parts of the base made their membranes start to crack, and though the center visual field was not damaged and thus no maintenance was performed, the peripherals flickered with static. Compounded with darkness and vertigo Anya always tried to let go of her body before attaching the nerve as it was going to happen anyway, with or without intending to.


    As the thousand stitches of consciousness melded their way into her brain, Anya could feel the soft trembling of flesh and the cold sensation of concrete scraping against a thousand pores emitting just enough lubrication to prevent damage. Cracked lips burned with the agony of not having had a drink in a thousand days as they opened and began to speak. There were no ears open to listen to the many responses as the information she would provide was of a sort that could not afford delays and the mental burden of processing response. Instead she left the ears closed as the lips and tongue and teeth began to vibrate from within the concrete walls.


    ¡°Code fifty-two. Code fifty-two. This is not a drill. Code fifty-two. Code fifty-two. This is not a drill. Report to Central Command immediately.¡±

 Bloody Diarrhea

    Of the other soldiers in her unit stationed on this base, Anya knew Raethor the best by far as he was her commanding officer and the one who had convinced her to join up. He was an unserious man that wore a V-shaped uniform because his superior officers didn¡¯t like visiting this place and no one else would stop him. It looked ridiculous and the fact he wore no pants made it worse, but she couldn¡¯t dare comment on it without being teased with words such as ¡°Why are you looking at my bulging, rippling six foot three muscular glutes?¡± and if she responded by saying she wasn¡¯t looking at his glutes but the fact he was constantly flexing and unflexing made the ripples very distracting he would simply retort that she was, in fact, looking and should stop. The muscles only distracted her because she let them, he would say. It didn¡¯t make the situation better, but his constant absurdities made the inherent tension in working in a place like this just a little more bearable. Perhaps it was intentional on Raethor¡¯s part, but in this moment he wore an expression of deadly intent. There was no permanent smile glued to his face. There was no twisting of his handlebar mustache in contemplation of what must come next. Even his rippling muscles ceased their continuous and distracting striation and unstriation for the first time in what felt like ages.


    He shouted, but Anya heard no sound. There were four others in the mess hall with him: Chris, the stick-thin deaf blind mute wearing a spartan-style full-face helmet with magic in the slits to prevent his face from showing; Peter, a scientist type with the best shot she¡¯d ever seen, capable of exploding a peach at five miles shooting from the hip; Luther, the fat black man that stuck to Raethor¡¯s hip as if glued to prevent vicious mockery and bullying at the hands of Will and Jes¨²s; and Yuna, whose legs were crippled and used the new flesh to compensate, also a hip-fly of Raethor for the same reason as Luther. The others sprinted off out of the room as Raethor gestured to his ear, screaming loud enough Anya could feel the teeth of mouths open on the walls floor and ceiling of the mess hall vibrate from without.


    Though she hated it, Anya opened an ear. It was of course impossible to open one ear, so a hundred folds of skin spiraled out of themselves and a hundred cochlear nerves switched on to the cacophony of a thousand cicadas and a million stabbing needles from all directions. The ears, of course, being in a military base, all had tinnitus. This meant Anya was now assaulted by both the intense cacophony of having a hundred ears, and by the fact they were all ringing. Though she was already on the ground, her head had been slightly raised and her body slightly tense. Now it was not, instead every strand of hair had found itself forced upright, and her muscles had all released themselves without conscious intent. Not because there was too much to focus on¡ª which there was¡ª but because they would shortly begin violently spasming as though Anya was having a seizure because though she was among the most capable of tolerating the base¡¯s endless nerves, even she had limits. Raethor waited for the nearest ear to twitch, showcasing it was online, and then quickly spoke as softly the burly man could¡ª that is to say a shout toned down just one bar below permanent hearing damage. Anya¡¯s body started convulsing immediately, but to her small relief he finished speaking quickly.


    ¡°Get the others to block forty-six¡ª Central Command is to be assumed compromised under code fifty-two!¡±


    Anya had known this of course, but under the stress of it all had forgotten. Block forty-six was close enough to Central that it was probably fine, but given this was a direct order from Raethor, the man known to only ever give increasingly forceful suggestions (and being her direct superior officer) she could not refuse. So Anya continued to convulse as she tried her best to move the open ears from around the mess hall to around those she had not yet issued the correction to. Her body would take it fine, it wasn¡¯t like she was incapable of a little pain, and in her current state even if her skull violently struck the floor it would leave her only somewhat disoriented. The concrete itself would be broken¡ª shattered to dust¡ª but she would be ok. The only true problem was that she would be exhausted for a few hours afterward, and her mind reeling back from being stretched far past its limit. But if Rathor was to assume direct command, Anya¡¯s mind wasn¡¯t necessary, and if the others were to join her as a full squad in a rare moment of unity their power could not be contained by anything short of a necrosis bomb. Her own bodily power was therefore unnecessary. And this was doubly true if they were to secure a single fortified position.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    The first to grab Anya¡¯s splintered focus was Melissa¡ª their medic. Her average height and thin frame hardly stood out, but her neon blue hair and green nails contrasted sharply with the coiled white-black snake tattoos wrapping her arms, the black irises and their white pupils that punctuated her flat and uninteresting face, the dull concrete walls of the toilet she had found herself in, and the general pallor of her skin. Anya¡¯s mouth opened from behind her head and she watched Melissa jump upright.


    ¡°Ignore previous instruction (though it seems you were already doing that). Report to block 46. Whatever your status¡ª¡±


    Anya didn¡¯t bother finishing the statement, as Melissa had started screaming in response to the concrete flesh hole opening up and speaking six inches behind her ear, then smoothly transitioned to a series of slurs that made it quite clear she wasn¡¯t listening anymore.


    It didn¡¯t require the open ears to understand the content of her words. Something to the effect of ¡°What the fuck?! Don¡¯t do that to me you whore-loving, mother-fucking bastard!¡± in her characteristically vulgar mother-tongue, and though the onslaught of curses didn¡¯t stop at just those fourteen words, Anya was quite sure the message had reached her¡ª you don¡¯t delay in a code fifty-two. Whatever the bodily needs, you can¡¯t take a detour to the toilet nor continue one already started beforehand. The mission comes first, and if the body wets itself during its course then so be it. Perhaps she had grown soft¡ª even if there was blood in the toilet bowl, what did it matter now?


    Henry was next to catch Anya¡¯s attention, sitting in the corner of his bunk-bed alone, chewing on his fingernails as he put his shoes and uniform back on. Every so often he would flick his hands to fling the blood dripping from his fingers into a trash can he had prepared by the bed to avoid staining his furniture and uniform, but nothing else about him was notable. His average height and frame with their brown eyes and black hair betrayed nothing abnormal nor interesting, but the coward had delayed as Melissa had in their all-important purpose. He should have been dressed in his bed, and ready to go at a moment¡¯s notice. It was a stressful situation, but as a soldier they must always be prepared to charge headlong into danger at the drop of an imperial dime. Anything but this was a betrayal of their reason to exist. She shouted at him to get moving towards block forty-six, and though he wore an expression of confusion, his words reached her open ears through the static and the ringing with a perfect clarity.


    ¡°We will make our enemies weep tears of blood.¡± He said, standing with his shoes finally on and beginning to march with characteristic rigidity. Why he couldn¡¯t have done this without her prodding was beyond understanding, but at least he was moving forward now.

 Pink Hair and Racism

    Alex, Alissa, and Lulu Lulululu were together, Lulululululu¡ª the tiny pixy of a 27 year old woman with hot neon pink hair so vibrant it looked like a single sheet of saturated color¡ª riding on top of Alex¡¯s soldiers with his sister pinned to his arm. The siblings both had blonde hair, but Alex¡¯s had little strips and speckles of white in it while Alissa¡¯s had black highlights. When they first came into the base Raethor had made them both shave their heads to get rid of the ¡°unnatural¡± color, so when it grew back with the streaks still in place he almost had a fit. Only after they reminded him they had pleaded for him to let them keep it in the first place because it had been natural all along did he slightly calm down under the knowledge that no hair dye had entered his base in at least a decade. When Lulu came after them he almost fell over and convulsed, but by that point he had calmed down from leading a base with no superiors and had himself started to wear his characteristic insanities on the outside. Lulu therefore had no such requirement, which was quite fortunate as her hair was so long it could almost touch the floor. It also helped that she had been brought in as a specialist marksman that some said was an even better shot than Peter, though Anya had seen no such direct evidence for this herself. She tended to train in private and Raethor allowed this as it was one of the conditions of her assignment to his squadron. Why he had been surprised by her appearance despite knowing of her in advance was unclear, however.


    These three were relatively close to Central Command, so they simply took the next right instead of left to head towards the alternative destination. The last four were by far the hardest to convince. It was always a special kind of torment to speak to Will, and perhaps worse that Jessica would be there to goad him on. The bitch had him wrapped around her finger and didn¡¯t give anything but her momentary gratification a second thought. Their love to try and lick Raethor¡¯s toes through the boot-leather gave them special status among the rank and file, and as such they hated taking orders from the others, even if they were dictated from above. Anya especially, being the longest-serving of them all, was known to be one of Ratheor¡¯s special children he would delegate tasks through. Whenever this happened it reminded the four problem children that their natural-born place was not, in fact, with their tongues stapled to Raethor¡¯s asshole ready to receive the glory of his ambition as he surely rose through the ranks over time. No, Anya had that position, and they didn¡¯t.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Please report to block forty-six,¡± she half commanded, half pleaded, through teeth that felt like an amalgamation of sand and rocks.


    ¡°No.¡± Dio snapped back.


    ¡°You can¡¯t give us orders!¡± Jessica added.


    The pain of speaking through cracked teeth had tightened the muscles in Anya¡¯s neck and started giving her a tension headache. The pain itself was muted through the stretched nerve lines, but it was yet another sensation to keep track of and ignore.


    ¡°Per guidance, Central is to be assum¡ª¡±


    ¡°And yet you said to go to Central. Curious. Why the correction? Has your thick, primitive, female skull been compromised more than it already was?¡± There was Jes¨²s¡¯ trademark racism. Or, well, sexism in this case. Anya almost wanted to let them go to Central and die, but unfortunately if they did it would mean the base was as or more compromised than she and Raethor feared. It would also mean less hands on deck and less bodies they could throw at the problem in a pinch.


    ¡°Ignore previous guidance. Please report to block forty-six. This is a direct order from Commander Raethor.¡±


    Dio stepped on one of her mouths that had unkindly opened on the floor. Her true hands snapped to the face out of habit, but the pain was less annoying than the gesture. The lines only had so much pain to transmit, but Dio¡¯s actions could transmit intent just as well as if she were actually there. His tall, muscular frame made for an imposing figure, and the fact he wore his uniform a size too small made every movement of it ripple like a miniature version of Raethor. His, at least, was not exposing bare skin, but not for lack of will to strip. Anya was certain Dio would if Raethor would let him, but his uniform was already barely above standard. Making another exception would be a bridge too far, even for Raethor, and especially for a figure that, while imposing, made a mediocre shot. But Anya would make one more attempt to convince them.


    ¡°I was wrong, but are you really going to disobey the Commander? Here as our base is breached? Now as you have the chance to outshine me?¡±


    They were silent, but she knew this meant success.

 With Every Passing Harvest

    Anya¡¯s jaw ached and her every muscle was stiff with the displeasure of uncontrollably spasming for five minutes straight. It was therefore no surprise that when her hand went to unplug the nerve-tooth so carefully implanted in her arm that it was not with the delicacy and grace she had intended. The fingers cramped as they moved over such that it was less the fingers than the entire arm moving to dislodge the implanted connection to the base. The tooth came out with a sickening pop as her fingers caught themselves in the cord and continued sailing forwards with the force of an entire arm behind. It didn¡¯t even come out straight, instead tearing the skin diagonally outward as though an indecisive person had decided to commit suicide with a very, very, very dull razorblade.


    She cursed not so much at the pain as the inconvenience of bleeding on her uniform. Yet another thing to be scolded for by the others. Yet another trip to the laundry to fix a thing that didn¡¯t have to happen. But it was a minor concern compared to the fact that now, more than anything and to the greatest impediment to her willpower since joining up here, now, she had to stand. The legs would be noodles, and the arms were already useless. And now she had to stand and run as fast as possible to join up with the others. Oh what misery! Oh what strife! Oh what torment. But she would move on because she must and because they were counting on her and because she needed their protection in this state. They were counting on her to recover, but this also meant they needed her to come to them for protection first.


    Anya stood in a single bout of great triumph, and immediately face planted on the concrete floor, her knees having buckled. She made a second effort, but again to no avail. It seemed that despite her great and unending strength, the inability to control it brought about by nerve sickness induced by the overload of processing several hundred extraneous stimuli made it useless. Her choices thus became clear: sit and wait for the return of her strength, attempt to bring someone to her that could carry her temporarily useless living corpse to block 46, or take a second pill. There was no choice to be had, of course. The first option was awful¡ª it would take at least an hour, and who knows what could happen by then? Option two was almost as bad. Someone could get to her position inside ten or fifteen minutes, but that would still burn twenty or thirty round-trip and didn¡¯t account for any delays¡ª such as for getting a hold of someone when they¡¯re all on the move in a labyrinthine series of hallways.


    Her hands trembled as they reached inside her coat¡¯s innermost pocket for a second trip to the inviolable sanctum that held her thirteen remaining get-out-of-jail-free cards. They emerged with an already open bottle, shaking so badly the fingers could not reach inside to pull out an individual pill. Her left hand grasped the right in an effort to stabilize the container, but it didn¡¯t help as much as she would have hoped. Her neck, at least, was cooperative in propping itself up against a wall to get in position to receive the solution to her total system instability, but despite being upright the overall problem remained¡ª how to get one pill into her mouth. But she knew it wasn¡¯t a solvable problem, so Anya did what any sensible person in a time of overbearing crisis would¡ª tip the bottle over and hope one pill came out.


    It did! But so did two more, and all three landed on her quivering tongue. She quickly replaced the bottle in its inviolable chamber, but the problem remained sour and burning on the flesh. If she waited for the pills to partially dissolve, there might be a chance to spit them out with only one or two pills worth of material consumed. Unfortunately, her tongue did not cooperate in this process. It spasmed at the wrong moment and sent all three pills careening backwards at Anya¡¯s windpipe. Through sheer luck it was closed at the moment of impact, but by the time it reopened all hope for a stable and safe time was lost.The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    It wasn¡¯t that you couldn¡¯t take more than one pill. They were tested and known to be generally safe for short-term consumption, but there were also known effects of taking too many for too long. Most were cautioned to only use them at times of absolute crisis, and vanishingly few were given more than one or two. It was Anya¡¯s luck to have been graced with an enduring supply, but as with anything given to a soldier it wasn¡¯t being done out of goodwill or grace or pity. When a soldier is given an object of any type, it was always for the single-minded purpose of combat. Whether an experiment or a known benefit to the soldier was ever a question, but as the pills¡¯ effect was known in this instance, their purpose was clear.


    But as Anya began to run something felt off in the pit of her stomach. She¡¯d taken these pellets a hundred times before, but never more than one at once. Never more than one in a day, and scarcely ever more than two in a week. Melissa had warned her about the possible side effects and chided her reliance on them to push through the hardest days of training, but Raethor never cut off the supply. Why did they even give her fourteen pellets if four would cause such intense pain? It wasn¡¯t like anything she¡¯d felt before. Not a simple burning. As her legs moved beneath her and the concrete exploded into shrapnel her eyes tracked the pieces with regular ease. The rebar was blown apart, shattered to dust, and the metal chips blended in well with the smoke that totally obscured the path behind. And yet Anya could still see them glinting in the dull fluorescent light. They were red and shiny.


    But in the pit of her stomach a dread grew hot, not as the sensation of her core being worked beyond its physiological limits, nor of any muscle in particular tearing or giving way to the ironclad reality of the world that you can¡¯t extract energy from nothing, but more of a generalized malaise to the organs. As though their substance was on fire. As though she had eaten spoiled milk and it had radiated all throughout the digestive tract and absorbed in a moment to pass through the entire metabolism and set it all alight. But as painful as it was, it was also a strange pain almost like the muscles being torn apart and reconstructed from a particularly intense bout of training.


    Was this what the saying meant that ¡°With every passing harvest, the farmer¡¯s brain rots and his muscles grow stronger?¡± It was strange, then, that Anya¡¯s brain didn¡¯t feel mushy and damp inside her skull, and that her ears remained totally dry despite the near-guarantee it should have been leaking in great torrents down the cheeks and hair. It was common knowledge that to take on farming work in this day and age was a death sentence. That even the best and most tolerant hands can only last six or seven seasons at best before they run out. Those rare few that lasted longer were always the dumbest rocks you could find going in; perhaps their brains having been so small and hard that they had a tolerance to being worn away. But the rare hand that made it fourteen or fifteen seasons was said to exist, and at least a handful who lasted longer than that, even if most had long-since been recycled. She knew this, and yet she took the pills anyway knowing the probable result. And yet she felt nothing but smarter, stronger, faster, and better in every way besides the internally-radiating intense pain in places other than her brain. Perhaps it was a quirk of her physiology, or perhaps hers was a secret, special formula. Whatever the case, five minutes had passed in thought and her feet had carried their body the way through desolated hallways to block forty-six and now she had arrived. It was time to greet the others and get down to business.

 The First Skin Lock

    But first, Anya needed to enter the room, and unfortunately there were two concentric folds of skin that blocked her way through the door. To draw a simple curve on two concentric circles, that was all it would take to get inside, but the task may as well have been to shoot eighty-six interlocking spirals and spirals of fleshy buttons with an underpowered pistol lacking even the most basic of user comforts (e.g., sights or an autoreloader) for all the difference it made to her now. It didn¡¯t help the blasted thing was six inches to a side! Whoever made the military hardware needed a lesson in how to make things that don¡¯t go boom, or perhaps they should have a bomb planted up their ass during construction and told something like ¡°The design passes when you can unlock it 1st try. If you fail more than twice, your rectum is going to detonate.¡± Or maybe that was too harsh. It¡¯s not like the meth capsules that deteriorated their users¡¯ dexterity were standard issue to the one group stationed here. (they were)


    So with no other option open to her, Anya waited. And waited. And waited for what felt like an eternity before Raethor arrived to see her shifting her weight and twitching in place so forcefully the ground had cracked.


    ¡°Lieutenant, I see you¡¯ve become a crackhead.¡±


    ¡°Crackfoot Anya reporting for duty, Commander Raethor!¡±


    Though Raethor¡¯s expression softened momentarily to a near-smile, it quickly returned to stoicism as he nodded to the skinlock that Peter quickly opened with smooth, perfectly curved lines inside each other with the practiced roboticism you¡¯d expect of a gay man, though he himself was not. Raethor, meanwhile, ordered Anya to begin her report with all the grim clarity of tone and purpose you¡¯d expect of a commander in a besieged position.


    Meanwhile, his V-shaped leotard had to be chafing something awful for how far it was up his ass, which greatly distracted Anya. Why her superior had to still be wearing that here and now was¡­ known. He always wore that. But it didn¡¯t make his choice of outfit any less out of place, nor did the fact his muscles continued to boil like he was on stage in a thong and spray-tan for a bodybuilding show help the situation at all. But she gave the report anyway, because that was the only way forward and his rather peculiar aesthetic was, though a continuous drain on her attention, at least something to take her mind off the situation.


    ¡°Our situation is grim. Commander David Einrich II was decapitated by the enemy, leaving you in sole command, and I was unable to engage them in combat. I deeply regret this failure.¡±


    They had been training outside without weapons. It wasn¡¯t her fault.


    ¡°The enemy appears to be a contorted mass of bodies smashed together haphazardly. Their numbers are unknown. Their capabilities are unknown. Their intelligence is unknown¡ª¡±


    ¡°Enough.¡± Raethor interrupted. ¡°What do we know?¡±


    Chris, Luther, and Yuna made their way into the room whose white interlocking metallic membranes had unwrapped. Inside the long hall of a room were two control panels to the long sides¡ª barstools situated with belts to strap the user down and a large square column of instruments for others to plug in. The instruments themselves were simple¡ª some nerve endings and a few veins¡ª but their importance could not be overstated. This was one of the primary comms centers outside of Central¡ª whose strategic purpose was unclear given that it could be substituted in a moment of crisis without second thought. And though the squirrely mass of veins and arteries and nerves and sinew that squirmed wetly along the walls were also found all throughout the base as scattered and distributed control points that could be easily cut off if compromised and yet secure the entire base if held, these were special, as most other stations contained only one station and only one nerve attachment. Block 46 was special because there were two posts, and more than one connection to each. This would distribute the load and reduce cognitive strain on the user, while also replenishing their energy and plugging them in more deeply to the base¡¯s command structure.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Anya continued speaking as Chris and Yuna split left and right with Luther following behind to help strap them in.


    ¡°We know that they¡¯re stronger together and that their primary objective is likely to be collecting more flesh. We also know that they can assimilate new bodies, and that Commander Einrich was assimilated. This implies they have no special structure or preparation given to their new flesh. And further that as there were at least a few dozen bodies in the creature I encountered, it is also likely that civilians are part of the structure, which if true would rule out combat augmentation¡¯s involvement.¡±


    ¡°Mmmhm.¡± Raethor mused.


    Peter rubbed his chin whose short stubble parted ways despite being only just long enough to be capable of doing so. ¡°That¡¯s not quite true. There are rumors of a similar story from the Third Tribulation War. I guess this must be classified, but given our situation¡­¡±


    ¡°Proceed.¡± Raethor stated bluntly.


    ¡°Before I transferred here I was part of the research group developing the necrosis bomb. The exact mechanism isn¡¯t important, but to put it bluntly its theory of operation didn¡¯t match up with the reality of its use. We started out using it on waste cuts of meat. You know, beef tenderloin and hog jowl. That kind of stuff. It sizzled and corrupted it, burning it away, and then we progressed to rats and other small rodents. But before we could finish the testing process by taking care of some non recyclable garbage, the weapon had to be deployed on live targets.¡±


    He paused, contemplatively, staring off into space for a second or two.


    ¡°They burned away just like the scraps, but didn¡¯t turn to ash. It seemed that, like the rats, they were sublimated directly to a gaseous state. Unlike the rats, however, there were other living targets not affected by the blast in the immediate vicinity. Some, naturally, decided to investigate and inhaled the gas made up of their fallen comrades. It didn¡¯t end well for them. I¡¯m told their screams were louder than the bombs falling around them for the handful of minutes in which they met their fate.¡±


    ¡°I could go on, but suffice it to say their organs dissolved from the inside.¡±


    ¡°I only have hearsay for this next part, as none of our observers were there to confirm the story and we weren¡¯t able to make any definitive conclusions from the bodies, but it¡¯s said that though their abdomens caved in and their organs ran out in a liquified state from the rectum, their muscles continued to move and their brains continued to operate enough for their rotten tongues to speak had they not fallen out. I¡¯m told that at least one was able to communicate before it was put down, saying something along the lines of ¡°God help you. God help us all.¡±¡±


    ¡°Naturally, the necrosis bomb was banned in the aftermath of its use and our unit was disbanded after the¡­ unintended side effects of our creation came to light.¡±


    ¡°Now, Anya, did you say the bodies you saw did or didn¡¯t still have their organs? This is important.¡±


    ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t know. I didn¡¯t get a good look at them and it wasn¡¯t clear from the writhing mass of flesh what was or wasn¡¯t there. I saw tongues and eyes and teeth; tendons, exposed muscle and blood¡­ So much blood. But organs? I can¡¯t say for sure. What do you mean by ¡°organs¡± anyway?¡±


    ¡°Enough of that.¡± Raethor concluded. ¡°Peter, if this is the work of a necrosis bomb¡ª¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not.¡± Peter answered with cold certainty.


    ¡°Then a modified version. What countermeasures can be taken against these¡­ zombies?¡± Raethor wasn¡¯t precisely sure of the term to use.


    ¡°They aren¡¯t dead, so I¡¯m not sure if the term¡ª¡±


    ¡°Whatever they are. It doesn¡¯t matter.¡± Raethor really didn¡¯t care what term Peter wanted to use.


    ¡°The necrites wouldn¡¯t be capable of what¡¯s been described, but if we assume the work was modified I would think, well, Commander sir, that we¡¯re FUBAR. There¡¯s no central nervous system¡ª no one vein we can cut. Anya said they¡¯re constantly bleeding so it¡¯s unlikely we can put enough holes in them to make a difference, and given that it¡¯s a bunch of bodies haphazardly stapled together there¡¯s no one head we can shoot to destroy its intelligence. Even if there is a heart¡ª and I do want to stress if¡ª I¡¯m not sure what it¡¯s doing. Whatever this thing is, it¡¯s not an extension of our work and likely can¡¯t be killed by conventional means.¡±


    ¡°Then why bring it up at all?¡±


    ¡°Because our unit had ethical concerns.¡±


    ¡°So what you¡¯re saying is the work continued under another name.¡±


    Peter¡¯s silence confirmed the ask.

 Behold! A Wall of Arms

    They regarded the long wall between Yuna on their right and Chris on the left, filled entirely with weapons. To a casual observer the wall would appear to be just another collection of writhing flesh, but to the trained eye it was clear which pieces were detachable from the wall. That is to say, all of the fleshy bits. That is also to say the entire wall was covered for its fifty or hundred foot distance in auto repeaters and heavy augmented ordinance. Exoskeletons and flesh grenades; shrapnel clusters and all manner of explosives; darkness repellants and skinsuits; fleshy writhing tendrils of semi-mobile communications equipment and all manner of new flesh; all of these and more were available at their disposal as one of the few entirely augmented units at the Grand Imperial Military¡¯s disposal. Their entire purpose was to wield semi-functional equipment at the bleeding edge of development. The kind known to be reliable and yet unknown just how much damage it could inflict if wielded full-bore¡ª both for the enemy and its user. Some of the autocannons were known to sap so much strength from their wielder and kick back so hard that the first poor sap of a non-augmented test subject to have the displeasure of firing it had his spine snapped in half and his head wrapped all the way through his legs¡ª or so the rumors said.


    But the most powerful weapon of them all by a country mile (that is to say Imperial Standard Unit, in contrast to the Disgusting Heathen Destandardized Measurement System) was the simple and unassuming autorepeater. The backbone of any modern military and standard-issue to all serious armed forces, it had revolutionized the Second Tribulation War and swept the Grand Imperial Military to the dominant position it held in the present. A writhing mass of flesh hidden underneath an often-painted wood or metal cover with a single exposed port connected through its user¡¯s skin, the AR converted life energy into ordinance, then lobbed it at opponents at hypersonic speed.


    ¡°If only I¡¯d had one of these¡­¡± Anya mused, regarding the wall.


    ¡°It wouldn¡¯t have made a difference.¡± Peter snapped back.


    ¡°But I could have done something.¡±


    ¡°Yes, gotten yourself killed.¡±


    ¡°Enough of that.¡± Raethor interrupted. ¡°We don¡¯t know how it would have gone. There¡¯s no point rehashing what could have been when we have a battle to win.¡± He continued, ever to the point.


    They continued to regard the wall, each trying to decide which weapons to stack in an ever-increasing mound atop their shoulders. Anya was thinking six ACs, two ARs¡ª one for each arm¡ª a skin suit for mobility, a bottle of darkness repellants, a few shrapnel clusters for smoke (turning the flesh monstrosities into a tactically-useful blood mist), and¡­ well, she was interrupted.


    ¡°Yo, fucksticks.¡± Will shouted, hands folded behind his head in an all too relaxed posture for the situation in the brief moments it took him to recognize Raethor was, in fact, not just in the room but also looking directly at him with murderous intent. He quickly adopted a flaccid posture, bent over onto his hands and knees, then opened and lifted his hands like Raethor should give him his big, thick, dark and hard brown jackboot to polish with his tongue. Raethor accepted the gesture, and placed his dirtier right boot in Will¡¯s outstretched hands, pointed to it, and mimed licking his other hand. Will didn¡¯t back down, nor did he even hesitate, opting to almost deepthroat the boot.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    ¡°Enough, ¡°fuckstick.¡±¡± Raethor ordered after a measly one or two strokes of the tongue. Maybe Will would watch his mouth next time, or at least check for superiors. Knowing him though¡­ it was unlikely. Anya had seen this scene before and knew it would play out again. That didn¡¯t stop her from almost dying with tears and laughter. Unfortunately, this would mean actual death at Raethor¡¯s hands and so she was forced to remain mute and silent. This didn¡¯t stop her from mentally capturing the scene for later, though. Will would never let this down, though it was kind of hard to with a callsign like ¡°Bootshiner.¡± They would all remember, she was sure, and the rest would be quite excited for another glorious tale of the adventures of Will, best bootshiner this side of the Imperial Wastes.


    Dio¡¯s stomach was twitching, informing Anya he too was on the brink of death or death besides, but like her he managed to escape both fates. Jessica, meanwhile, looked like she had swallowed a lemon, and Jes¨²s¡­ failed.


    ¡°Jajajajaja¡± was the best he could muster, a near-silent plea for only mild torture rather than the full-on eighty-six laps around the base he could ordinarily expect. Raethor, however, said nothing. There was disappointment plainly visible in Anya¡¯s eyes, but none of the others commented on the change either. It was clear to all present that Raethor¡¯s strict discipline but amusing character had been to prepare them for a day like this. To maintain decorum and push them to be better while simultaneously indulging their humanity. Because on a day like today there wasn¡¯t going to be much opportunity to preserve it. There would be blood and there would be death, and as much as they all wanted to relish another brutal punishment¡­ it was better this way. Because as much as Raethor flaunted the rules, the one thing he couldn¡¯t tolerate was disrespect toward your comrades. If he was letting that slide, it meant that something more valuable was at stake, and that whatever cohesion they had would just have to be enough.. whatever it took.


    They had all sobered up by the time Henry arrived, and a dour expression had settled on the faces of all in the room. They knew that for all their joking and mutual hatred that this was it. There would be no second score to settle if this one didn¡¯t go in their favor. Whatever the mutual feelings, whatever the personal cost, it would have to be enough because the alternative was too painful to bear. Even still, Anya bit the bullet and greeted Henry like she always did,


    ¡°How¡¯d the school shooting go?¡±


    ¡°Very well, the children were cooperative today.¡± he quickly snapped back.


    She tried to wet her tongue in preparation to taste less of Raethor¡¯s boot leather, but the only reaction he had was a light chuckle.


    ¡°You people can¡¯t be serious.¡±


    ¡°Deadly, sir.¡± Henry shot back. Raethor¡¯s uniform did resemble a school swimsuit if you squinted.


    ¡°Why can¡¯t we be serious?¡± Jessica snapped. ¡°There¡¯s an enemy outside and she¡¯s making light of it! You can¡¯t let her get away with that Commander sir!¡±


    ¡°Ok, ok, I have to be fair. Anya, get on with it.¡± He pointed at his unmolested left boot this time, so she wouldn¡¯t have to share Will¡¯s saliva at least.


    It was unfair Henry wouldn¡¯t have to share the taste, but it maybe wasn¡¯t a good idea to talk back to the man with his boot on your tongue.


    The tip of her tongue tapped his boot as her sides blew themselves out in the aching pain of bending over unstably, but ¡°You¡¯re going to have to do better than that! Come on, put some back into it!¡± But right as her mouth opened to provide full contact to the full tasting surface, another party entered and Anya made use of the distraction to drop the topic after, like Will, a measly one or two licks. This did not help the pungent and sour taste of polish that would stain her tongue for at least the next hour.

 Killing the Janitors

    Next entered Alex, Alissa, and Lulululululu, who had finally decided to shed the coarse outerwear binding her tightly for so long, which now hung as a Prussian blue band of a crop top and near-invisible shorts. Raethor let out a long sigh, but finally acknowledged that perhaps letting decorum slide was a good idea, as otherwise the built up pressure might crack someone at an inopportune time.


    Lulululu, however, was not in good spirits. Her juvenile face that the others had mocked so many times for being so incongruous with her stated age of 27 (which she had provided documentation for on more than one occasion at Anya or Will or Dio or whoever else¡¯s request) wore an expression of dread. It was the kind of dread you wouldn¡¯t see on a child not because a child is incapable of feeling terror or pain or loss or sorrow, but because the child wouldn¡¯t understand the true gravity and magnitude of the situation. You go through the years and build an expectation for what they should contain. It is therefore impossible for a child to grasp just how rare an event like this truly was. It had been five years since the last Tribulation War, and six before that, but even if she had known their terror and starvation, only Lulululu could understand just what this meant, because only Lulululu was proficient enough in the esoteric and arcane to understand that this time had been prophesied from long before the first or second or third global conflict in the wake of technological revolution.


    It didn¡¯t require a background in magic to understand that a flesh monstrosity was going to kill you. It didn¡¯t require living through three devastating wars and their profound and lasting effects on one¡¯s way of life to understand the magnitude of another one. It would not require a detailed explanation to understand that if the living were being contorted to puppets of malformed flesh that there was a higher power at play. But only Lulululu understood that


    ¡°We have six hours.¡±


    ¡°Until what?¡± Peter asked the only question you can.


    ¡°Until the sun goes out.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± It didn¡¯t matter who spoke. They all felt the question hang tightly in the air around their throats.


    ¡°We were all there when the Third Tribulation ended, but I think I had the best connection to the pulse of the Imperium when it happened. I won¡¯t say I¡¯m the best, but I¡¯m one of very few that could tell something had changed when we started mass-distributing augmentation pills.¡±


    Anya did a double take at her coat-pocket. Those pills? Lulululu noticed and clarified.


    ¡°The ones we gave the industrial workers. The farmers. The grunts. Our supply is different and tightly controlled.¡±


    ¡°And how do you know that?¡± Peter interrupted.


    ¡°Reach out and touch them. It¡¯s plain to see.¡± Alissa said from Lulululu¡¯s left, still clutching Alex¡¯s shoulder as his equivalent to one of Raethor¡¯s hip-flies.


    Peter raised an eyebrow, but otherwise didn¡¯t react, so Lulululu went on.


    ¡°They¡¯re powerful. It¡¯s not hard to see that. We never could have become the world¡¯s strongest state without them. But poisoning our organs came at a cost. Even with the reduced lifespan the users suffered we went on: stronger, faster, more productive. So what if you live ten fewer years? You¡¯ll be put in the next batch and your soul will live on. It¡¯s no different to drugs or alcohol from the old days. One more coping mechanism to get by. But now we¡¯re all taking them.¡±


    ¡°And?¡± Raethor motioned for her to continue.


    ¡°And that had an effect on our society. Magic doesn¡¯t come from nowhere¡ª it comes directly-tapped from the pulse of the empire. You might not get exactly what I¡¯m saying by that without having used it at a high level, but let me put it this way¡ª if you poison the well of magic power the output you produce will also be poisoned. Lesser. Weaker. It¡¯s not a problem really because we can always use more or adjust to fall in line with the poison¡¯s new direction, but think about it on a global scale.¡±


    She pointed at the fluorescent lights above them in this cold room with no windows.


    ¡°Say we kill all the janitors and maintenance workers. What do you think will happen to the lights?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯ll go out.¡± Yuna half-shouted from the right hallway. Anya was surprised she could hear their conversation at all.


    ¡°Yes! Yes they will.¡± Lulululu answered.


    ¡°But what does that have to do with the sun?¡± Jes¨²s asked. ¡°Are you stupid? The sun is up there and we¡¯re down here.¡± Alex glared at him, but Raethor said nothing. Lulululu continued.


    ¡°The sun isn¡¯t just there as a material reality. It¡¯s there as a reflection of everything we are. The light has to come from somewhere, and that somewhere is here. From us. From life.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a ball of plasma in the sky. Clearly you have brain-worms.¡± said Will.


    Lulululu sighed and made a show of her stupidity by slapping her forehead with both hands.


    ¡°Oh why didn¡¯t I think of that! Maybe it¡¯s because the sun isn¡¯t just a physical object? Whatever. Figure it out if you¡¯re so smart.¡±


    Raethor could have leveraged his command to alleviate the tension, but further explanation was unimportant. The only question that mattered was ¡°And what can we do about it?¡±Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    ¡°Nothing!¡± Peter mused.


    ¡°More or less.¡± Lulululu continued, but kept speaking after a short pause despite the fact Peter expected her to admit defeat. ¡°But you know, I was thinking about the contorted bodies.¡±


    ¡°That you haven¡¯t heard about yet?¡± Dio noted.


    ¡°Chock it up to magic.¡± She seamlessly explained with a mischievous grin.


    ¡°I don¡¯t have an explanation for them yet, but if they¡¯re related to the sun we might have a thread to pull.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not fully convinced of that.¡± Peter said, but offered an abridged second explanation of the bodies to the new parties despite that.


    ¡°Hmm¡± she noted in response.


    ¡°So at least the people near us have lost their organs as though a necrosis bomb struck them.¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t know that.¡± Peter objected, pointing to Anya. ¡°She didn¡¯t get a good look.¡±


    ¡°Still, let¡¯s assume it¡¯s true¡ª¡±


    ¡°No, that wouldn¡¯t be a fair assumption!¡±


    Raethor put a stop to the argument. ¡°Let her speak.¡±


    ¡°If it is, then we¡¯ve reached a critical mass in our country, and its nature has flipped from a being of organs to a being of pure flesh.¡±


    ¡°What the fuck does that mean?¡± Will objected.


    ¡°You¡¯re making no sense.¡± Jessica added, and the rest of them nodded, for once agreeing unanimously that what she had said was meaningless.


    ¡°It means we¡¯re no longer capable of sustaining the sun.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s other countries on this planet.¡± Dio said, gyrating his hips as though striking a killing blow¡¯s fist-pumping victory pose.


    ¡°And they¡¯ve all corrupted themselves.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t know that.¡± Peter objected, once again pointing to her faulty premise. ¡°You¡¯re assuming there¡¯s a common cause to something we don¡¯t know the first thing about, and you¡¯re asserting the sun will go out without direct evidence.¡±


    ¡°Ugh.¡± She sighed. ¡°Fine, don¡¯t believe me, but what else are we supposed to think?¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t have to think at all.¡± Raethor finally asserted.


    ¡°We need actionable intel. That¡¯s what comes next.¡±


    And so the room fell silent as they made their way inside and to the walls holding the arms they would soon wield after a long period of disuse. But more importantly, they now had fourteen minds at their disposal to regard the situation. No matter how elite any one of them was, they were all selected for their particular talents and as such were all valuable wellsprings of tactical information.


    Fourteen? Raethor noted Melissa¡¯s absence and looked at the nearest hand-dial. The thumb and two fingers were down, making it 18:00 and change with six hours until midnight. There were better ways of telling the time, but these were cheap and posted everywhere, making them useful at a high level.


    ¡°Listen up!¡± he commanded in a loud baritone.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve all been wondering why this base exists, and why we¡¯re here. I¡¯m sure that you¡¯ve often questioned for what possible reason we could have so much funding despite so few staff. I¡¯ll tell you why: it¡¯s because this base exists for one reason and one reason only. To kill the bastards attacking us tonight!¡±


    The soldiers didn¡¯t seem particularly enthused.


    ¡°We¡¯ve trained our whole lives to get here. All those miles you¡¯ve run? To get away from the bastards! All those shooting drills? To pop every last fucking bastard skull open by fucking it with your gender-agnostic rifle projectiles!¡± He did a little hip thrust to emphasize the point, though Anya was not enthused. ¡°Those pills you¡¯re fond of? To give you the strength to endure and the power to destroy every enemy of this grand Imperial State for the continued existence and majesty of our empire, its children, and your families! And now they¡¯ve claimed one of us? Will you let that stand?¡±


    There was a dull murmuring.


    ¡°I said will you let that fucking stand?!¡±


    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t we grab our heavy weapons first?¡± Peter nearly whispered under his breath.


    ¡°What was that?!¡± Raethor shouted, moving closer to the diminutive child that would dare question his superior¡¯s iron decree.


    ¡°If this base was established out of concern for this¡ª if they¡¯re so strong shouldn¡¯t we prepare ourselves to fight at full strength?¡±


    Raethor let him finish, but only to back Peter against the wall of oozing flesh behind him.


    ¡°We have one order from command: ¡°Don¡¯t leave anyone behind.¡± That means anyone! Do you hear?¡±


    ¡°Yes but still¡ª¡±


    ¡°No buts. Did you hear me?!¡± Raethor¡¯s chest was an inch away from Peter¡¯s face, as though he would motorboat the poor soul.


    Peter shut his mouth, perhaps acknowledging it was in the best interest of his continued survival, but he wasn¡¯t the only one with objections.


    Luther spoke next, perhaps out of obligation to his superiors. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t we at least call the Most High to report the situation and request orders?¡± Anya was confused. Why would they care about bumfuck nowhere?


    ¡°If what Lulululu and Peter have told us is correct, there¡¯s no point in requesting reinforcements, and we¡¯d only be delayed by asking.¡± Raethor was strangely calm for how incensed he¡¯d seemed by Peter. Perhaps Luther¡¯s special status as one of his hip-flies was playing a role in mediating his temper.


    ¡°It couldn¡¯t hurt?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve already been waiting long enough, any further delays could spell disaster!¡± Jessica added, sensing Raethor¡¯s sentiment and trying to score points with him.


    ¡°Has your negro brain been damaged?¡± Jes¨²s said in between Jessica¡¯s pauses in cadence, unable to resist the opportunity to ridicule such an Uncle Tom as Luther. Didn¡¯t he know his place? Being so close to Raethor was a disgrace to their military¡¯s illustrious history and the tens of thousands of¡­


    The details of the sentiment didn¡¯t really matter. Luther understood the words and their implicit meaning all too well. Jes¨²s hated him for the color of his skin, and Raethor did not comment.


    ¡°We have to stay unified!¡± Anya said in a valley-girl accent, objecting to Jes¨²s as forcefully as possible.


    ¡°She¡¯s right, you know.¡± Alex started. ¡°If we splinter we won¡¯t stand a chance.¡±


    ¡°And they¡¯ll pick us off one by one.¡± Alissa said, finishing the sentence.


    ¡°Grab your weapons!¡± Raethor ordered. ¡°We need to get moving.¡±


    ¡°But Commander,¡± Yuna began, only just having gotten strapped into the base.


    He knew she wanted to stay and monitor the situation from afar, which ordinarily wouldn¡¯t have been a bad idea, but given the severity of the code and his sole mandate as the base¡¯s commanding officer, he couldn¡¯t leave any of them behind.


    ¡°Surely this was a bad idea?¡± Anya thought, but questioning the mandate did not change it.

 Into Position

    Despite having only just been plugged into the base, Chris and Yuna were made to disintegrate themselves from its many connections and choose a physical weapon to wield instead. To touch such heavy objects was incredibly disorienting after having been disconnected from their own flesh. Having to immediately heft rifles and tactical gear may as well have been transporting an empath into a psychopath convention (that is to say one of the Emperor¡¯s opponents¡¯ many rallies). And for this Chris almost dropped a rifle on his toe, saved only by Raethor¡¯s quick reaction speed and obvious foreknowledge of what would happen.


    They exited the armory, and the opaque membrane door closed behind them with a wet sound. A pit opened up in Anya¡¯s stomach as Raethor issued the order to get in position. While typically Raethor would lead from the front, calling any general who would lead from behind a sniveling coward deserving nothing but defeat, in this case he knew this line of thought was wrong. They didn¡¯t know where their enemy would intercept from, and as such if Raethor led from the front it could delay the party¡¯s reaction to attacks from behind. Likewise, if Raethor was to the front then Peter would be to his right and Lulululu not far behind. She didn¡¯t like fighting in close quarters, but being the best shot behind or perhaps equal to Peter, she was forced wherever Raethor was in the position as it would be irresponsible to take frontal command without sufficient protection. As such, Raethor positioned himself in the center of their formation and instructed Peter to take the right-point with Lulululu behind-left. To his rear-right he placed Anya, and to the front-left opened a hole in the defence by the name of Dio, who wasn¡¯t such a bad shot but also couldn¡¯t be relied on to stay on target. His reflexes and close-quarter attacks were acceptable enough, however, and with that quadrant being an easy mark for Lulu, Peter, and Raethor it wasn¡¯t necessary to put any extra strength there.


    For the same reason, he placed Jes¨²s and Will with Anya. They weren¡¯t capable soldiers, but with her there to solidify the position it would be easier to control them as a block. It wasn¡¯t that they couldn¡¯t hit a mark or some other such objective failing, only that their sense of tactics was very poor. Jes¨²s in particular could always be relied upon to shoot the darkest-skinned target without regard to its strategic value without a close eye on his target selection. Anya couldn¡¯t live up to that expectation, but it wasn¡¯t like anyone else would do any better. Even if Raethor took direct command of two out of his thirteen soldiers to the detriment of the overall position, their marksmanship was average at best and their ability to keep cool under pressure only somewhat better than average. Placing their commander right behind them to ride them like common whores would not merely alter their target selection. Much like the whores, they would moan with the pleasure of their great and glorious commander¡¯s undivided attention. This would be to the detriment of their marksmanship, as their attention would be to the rear.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    This would pose the opposite problem as placing Raethor at the front¡ª instead emphasising their rear formation and leaving the others to take local tactical command and thus also breaking down their overall strategy to a mishmash collection of three or five smaller ones. In Lululu¡¯s group he placed Luther and Chris, who could be relied on as a wall of solid iron. His spartan helmet wasn¡¯t just for show, and despite the fact he was a full mute with mutilated eyes, closed ears, and a broken tongue, his words would come through clearly in every ringing shot. Always to the target, always finding their mark; he could be relied on to butcher every civilian or destroy every enemy without question. If it furthered the overall strategy he would gladly trade his own life for a minor tactical advantage. And with his above-average cqc enhanced by a lifetime of withstanding brutal abuse, there was a reason he wore and was allowed to wear that full-face Spartan helmet.


    Luther, then, was there as a secondary marksman. His aim was true and his temper cool, making him ideal for the rear left and causing this section to be the strongest of the four corners by some margin. Raethor would give full tactical command to Lulululu, and she would do everything possible to defend his weak side, allowing him to bolster strengths and shots as needed to the other directions.


    Alex, Alissa, and Jessica were put to the top left, with the brother as a mediator intended to drive the simmering hatred of the two women to a fine point aimed at the enemy rather than inside the formation. It wasn¡¯t always successful, but it would at least drive mutual professional respect, even if their personal relationship was beyond salvaging, and perhaps already to the point of a murder in any other situation.


    Henry was placed with Peter, which would ordinarily be a point of confidence for their attack, but in light of Peter¡¯s uncomfortably high level of knowledge about the situation and about the chemical and biological weapons that had ended World War Three, it was unnerving to see him paired with a loner that took an uncomfortable amount of pleasure in taking shots at non-vital targets when allowed. The contents of their heads was unknown, and the best thing she could hope for was thoughts of death and instant, clean, shots. At worst she could have been positioned behind the teeth of a serrated meat-grinder. Would it be safe? Sure, but there were much worse fates of safety than the alternative of mild danger would imply.


    Yuna was closer to the center than Henry or Peter or anyone else, despite nominally being part of their block. Not because they didn¡¯t need reinforcement or because she was being left in reserve, though this was true in large part, but primarily because Yuna was a close-quarters specialist. Her tall, lanky build and new flesh legs made her extremely fast, and her choice of arms being two mid-sized curved daggers gave her a mix of both range and dexterity ideal for close-quarters situations. It was disadvantageous for her to be in the open, however, so she typically held a pistol at mid range, but given the halls and their closed-off nature, it wasn¡¯t necessary for her to take on this auxiliary role.

 Red and Red

    With their positions decided Raethor signaled the order to move. For the near term it would be at once, but as they closed the distance to Central Command it was likely he would first shift to a staggered movement strategy, and then a full tactical clear with each member of the formation taking an angle and moving in a pre-designated pattern that would maximize coverage and attention to any given hostile space over their current emphasis on speed. For now there was no sign of danger and Melissa was in a known hostile space, making it important for them to close the distance as fast as possible given the circumstances.


    But the pit in Anya¡¯s stomach continued to grow. The fluorescent lights from above shone down on her ratty skirt and quickly-marching feet, imbuing them with the sickly pale glow of a body only rarely graced with the sun. She had seen its dull orange glow today, but the sky had been swallowed by clouds long before she had her fill of it. And now the doors were shut and the base on alert. Now they marched on their central point of command while assuming it hostile. Now they marched with fourteen soldiers on a point that ordinarily housed none. The pale glow from above swallowed her thoughts as though already broken by teeth and traveling into the maw of a beast fully prepared to devour her. All that was left were the dull sensations of dread and rising panic that would give rise to nothing but ill-fated thoughts. She knew it wasn¡¯t befitting of a soldier to question her orders. She knew that the existence of this base was on a need-to-know basis. Why, then, would she dare think about its purpose? It wasn¡¯t a question posed in words, because there were none left to be had at this point in her mind.


    There was only the dull ache of her feet and body in its lack of coordination and the destroyed mind brought far past the point of breaking in controlling the entire base alone. And yet it could keep driving her on. The legs moved far slower than maximum pace, and the mind, though exhausted, had more than enough bandwidth to carry worry in dull aching flashes of anxiety produced by an eternity spent behind the same concrete walls and far-away glow of lights that never tired or changed.


    But through it all the same thought kept rising, unable to be suppressed. What is it she was doing here? Why would they station sixteen soldiers on a base easily capable of housing ten-thousand? A hundred-thousand? More? She didn¡¯t even know. It could have been far less, but that didn¡¯t answer the question. They had so many arms and so much funding. Peter was involved with the development of the necrosis bomb that had decided the outcome of the Third Tribulation War, but now he was here. Lululu was a specialist marksman capable of shots more than what the average human should have been capable of making. And the others.. all so varied and talented. Will should have been an officer by now, and Dio felt like he was already up the ranks. Anya herself was augmented, but Yuna¡­ Yuna had been reborn of the new flesh. So many questions, all spinning around her head, and yet no answers arrived by the time the walls changed color.


    Red, red and flashes of red. Streaks and splotches all along the walls of all different shades. Crimson and sanguine blood and inverse-cyan mucus. Black and putrid and corrupted. Brown and decayed and stained with the oxidation of time. All overpowered by so much freshly-pouring RED and RED and RED. So much it became meaningless, as though the walls themselves had changed color rather than some other thing being there to drip down their sides. White and dull fluorescence had been replaced by RED and RED and RED as though the organs of this place had been exposed to the outside of their inner walls and destroyed in this process of inversion. Raethor put up his fist without speaking, a clear order to stop moving in response to his troops¡¯ rising panic. Jessica¡¯s legs bowed inward, trembling. Alissa gripped Alex¡¯s arm tightly, even as he gestured with his head against the rifle-stock for her to get back in position on hers. But there was no movement. As the party¡¯s legs stopped there was only the drip-dripping of blood against the walls down onto the floor as the first gunshots and screams rang out from behind as Anya whirled to get a vantage on the exploding hole in the center of David¡¯s chest. A donut with the glaze of pain running all along the walls as it shot out in the depressurization of a too-forceful bite. A sad smile was on the bloodstained face situated above his human and exploding torso.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    Anya blinked.


    Once.


    Twice.


    And he was gone. She looked to the walls, and their RED and inhuman texture of mucus and all the other fun things you get when a party balloon of gore is at last opened for the celebration time were gone. Once again replaced by the white and gray and empty texture of smooth walls and their typical viscera at the corners and their typical fluorescence from above. Bluish light and no sun shone on white-gray walls and gray-brown concrete with not the faintest sight of an exploding corpse. Anya then looked to Jes¨²s, but he gave her a look like ¡°What? Too scared for this? Do you need to go back to the kitchen?¡± which was quite impressive given how many words were written on his face. He was truly masterful at conveying information when he wanted to. As was Will, whose face was an open book of conveyed stupidity. Or, well, unconcern with the situation.


    So she looked to Peter, who raised an eyebrow, and Lulululu, who clearly saw the same thing she had. They were both facing her direction, motionless, as was Alissa, still gripping Alex¡¯s hand, and Chris, who did not speak or react.


    ¡°What, did my pants ride up again?¡± Raethor asked, despite not wearing pants.


    ¡°It would seem the enemy is within.¡± Henry said calmly.


    ¡°Did you see that too?¡± Alissa asked him.


    ¡°See what?¡±


    ¡°The blood and gore and the exploding body?!¡± Her voice was cracking under pressure and she wasn¡¯t keeping it together at all.


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you shoot?¡± Dio asked in a firm voice.


    ¡°Shoot David? He¡¯s already dead.¡± Anya chimed in.


    ¡°David? That was clearly Will!¡± Alissa near-screamed, doing a double take when the man himself calmly asserted that he was, in fact, still alive and all his organs were very much still on the inside.


    ¡°How is he alive!?¡± she screamed.


    ¡°How are you a soldier?¡± Jes¨²s asked, contempt plain in his voice.


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t anyone shoot the hostile?¡± Dio asked the room again, this time in a louder voice.


    ¡°Maybe I should have!¡± Alissa quickly retorted.


    ¡°Maybe you should consider that we saw each other, not hostiles.¡± Peter suggested.


    ¡°Did everyone see it?¡± Lulululu tried to confirm.


    ¡°No.¡± Raethor confirmed.


    ¡°How many of us saw it?¡±


    Raethor held up a hand.


    ¡°It isn¡¯t the time to ask those sorts of questions. We need to extract Melissa and it¡¯s clear the enemy has us on a clock.¡± He paused before continuing in a louder, more commanding voice.


    ¡°Everyone who hasn¡¯t already, take an augmentation pill. ¡±


    There was a quiet murmuring, but all complied. It would sharpen their senses and lock in their hardware. Now wasn¡¯t the time to consider any future costs. One by one their sense of dread vanished as it was replaced by the whirling of blood through the ears and a very present sense of the firearm¡¯s weight in their hands. There would be no need for hesitation with the brain operating on all its cylinders. They would decide and shoot in the same instant, and the consequences of this action would be for the future to determine. Now was the time to fire and to let the body fall.

 Aegis of Fire

    And so Raethor held up his hand again and made a fist to signal their transition to a full clearing pattern. Step one was to mirror the forward formation and so Jessica¡¯s short body adorned in its prim uniform and small arsenal consisting of only two autorepeaters and a handful of flesh grenades stepped forward. As a mid-range combatant she was ideal to hold the first position close to but somewhat offset forward from Dio. Henry then stepped up from behind Peter, adorned in a large arsenal of four autorepeaters, a hand cannon, and a shoulder-mounted rifle usable only by highly-trained combatants. It was somewhat jarring to watch his relatively thin frame wield so many heavy munitions, but the thin sinews of secondary augmentation were just visible on his sides¡ª that is to say an external wiring of nerves and connective tissue connected to a bank on his back-left hip carrying a dense matrix of nutrients that would be continuously wired to his muscles during combat to improve their performance.


    Luther did not wear secondary augmentation, nor an exoskeleton, nor a fleshsuit, nor any manner of special ordinance. In his arms were two autorepeaters wielded in akimbo style. Not because this was better for long-range targeting, but because he had long-since given up on trying to operate at that distance. His aim was good, but Lululu¡¯s was better and he didn¡¯t need to supplement her targeting at the rear. Meanwhile, Peter had that distance covered from the front. Luther¡¯s above-average aim was therefore best used at mid-distance to track fast-moving targets. But because it was more than sufficient for this task he added a second weapon to his off hand to gain an advantage most did not possess¡ª burst fire.


    He moved forward to take the position behind Dio that Jessica had vacated in moving forward, his aim trained backwards, as did Jes¨²s on the right behind Peter where Henry had moved away. Jes¨²s, however, unlike Luther, was not shy about supplementing his flesh with arms. On his shoulders were a flesh-grenade launcher (consisting of an arm severed at the elbow and innervated with a connection to his high-yield nutrient storage) and mutation retrieval mechanism (another arm, this one tasked with cycling each of his six autorepeaters as they fired and cooled down after every shot, which Anya was also equipped with). To his left hip was a gatling gun, and to the right a gas launcher. Either weapon could easily take down fifty targets in a shot or firing cycle, but unfortunately were so taxing on the user and their nutrients that it was unreasonable to use them in all but the most extreme scenarios. While his back was covered in heavy ordinance and a bristle of rifles, every open space was taken by the pale yellow nutrient vat, which was capable of adjusting itself to fill in space where available, though most of it had wound its way around his legs as that was the only real place where space was available. This had the advantage of bringing nutrient storage just overtop where it was most necessary, allowing for quick and extreme bursts of speed by reducing nutrient transport time and relying on the vat¡¯s surface area instead of the nerve and connective tissues¡¯. Unfortunately it also meant they would run out relatively quickly and made his legs a highly-effective target.


    He was slow to take position, even with the thick exoskeleton¡ª quite literally a set of hollow bones with high-yield tissues inside¡ª he wore to maneuver them only just unobscured by his ridiculously-sized all-consuming nutrient tank. Once finished, Raethor took several large steps forward and placed himself dead in the center of the position, carrying nothing but a backful of autorepeaters, needing nothing more to augment them than his own blood and flesh. His ample nutrients were more than enough to not necessitate carrying any more. The same was true for Yuna, whose close-range combat style did not require propellant to get a projectile up to long-range speeds.


    Chris moved next, almost invisible and without any sound. He carried one rifle with its sight sawed off. There was never any need for him to take a second shot, so he didn¡¯t bother cycling them. He did, however, wear a suit of mutilated skin stitched together with nerves of power that provided an active camouflage to his movement. When Chris moved, death would silently follow as a grim shadow hanging just above the enemy. Ever out of sight but with a chill to follow his every step, the enemy shivering in his presence just before the end.


    He took position far to the front-right, with Will following not far behind to the front-left. This was the most vulnerable part of the movement cycle, but because of their highly-trained nature Anya and Lululu took a handful of steps backward to constrict the squad¡¯s footprint while fully prepared to stop and fire on targets coming from behind if necessary. Their focus did not waver during movement as an ordinary unit¡¯s might. This was one of the many benefits to their focused lifestyle of training and bodily augmentation. It also helped that they were by far the best shots among the company, Peter aside.


    Will, unlike Chris, was not a particularly deadly shot. He wasn¡¯t particularly good at anything in a combat sense. But because of his servile nature toward command and a total willingness to follow orders, he was one of the few front-line capable soldiers well-suited toward a support role. He therefore wielded only a single auto-repeater, like Chris, but his every surface was covered by various rounds of smoke and shrapnel grenades; darkness repellants and comms equipment. He was in this forward-position because while he was weak as a direct fighter, he would be able to enhance a tactical retreat or augment others¡¯ shots from there much more effectively than another combat-centric soldier might.Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    As they slotted into position, Anya and Lululu flipped forward and began sprinting toward the new front-line another five meters past the positions Chris and Will had fortified. Blood beat through Anya¡¯s ears in a dull rushing sound. Her feet moved forward as her gun aimed down the endlessly branching hallways. Her heart beat. Left foot, right, left. And the next, and the next. Beat. And the next. Beat. And the next. Beat. Until she arrived at the wall, soaked in sweat and ready to collapse. Perhaps it wasn¡¯t worth concentrating so intently on anything and nothing at all. Better to shut off the brain and allow instinct to take over. But if only it were so simple.


    Her legs began to waver, having only just avoided total collapse in the movement by sheer willpower and indomitable spirit, but she screamed at them (internally) that they could not bend. It was not acceptable for her body to waver. No matter the cost, no matter the pain, she must endure.


    Raethor had evidently noticed, and suggested she take another pill. Anya¡¯s resolve wavered, but she knew the enemy would not wait for her to recover. Perhaps it was foolish. Perhaps it was shortsighted. Perhaps she should have relied on the others to protect her instead of constantly taking the vanguard even in this state, but her hand slipped once more into the now oh-so-violable chamber inside her Prussian-blue coat to retrieve the warm cylindrical container and its cold pills that would grant her the strength to endure and to protect everything together here and now. Unlike the last time, she was able to stick a single finger into the container and retrieve a single pill. And when it touched her lips the pill was not sour. Not any longer. It tasted rich, almost like beef wellington. As though her body knew this was the solution to her problems and had adjusted its sense of taste to fall in line with this knowledge.


    And so they continued down the hall for a minute or two, the back line swapping places with the front and on and on until they came to a hall in the same relative positions they had been after the first position change. Anya was in the front-right, with Lululu on the left. Will and Jes¨²s joined Anya in the front and behind respectively, and the same was true for Chris and Luther. Behind them was Raethor, with Yuna positioned to the front-left behind Anya to bolster her side¡¯s relatively weaker close-quarters capabilities.


    From there, Peter (positioned in the rear-right behind Anya) hefted his two rifles and flamer. He was traditionally a mid to long-range marksman, and while equally terrifying with and without a scope his scientific eccentricities led him to pursue martial perfection in ways others deemed unsuitable. As one example, he carried a long tube attached to a medium-small vat of nutrients not connected to external augmentation whose only purpose was to hold a small pilot light at the ready. This only sipped the supply, but kept the weapon at the ready by his hip at all times, so when he cycled autorepeaters his offhand would hover over the flamer in preparation for the worst. Evidently this habit had been formed after he watched a squad member die in close range after being unable to make a shot at that distance. He had first wanted to practice in close-quarters until he could shoot off a pimple at two inches distance, but had been talked out of it by his superior at the time because of just how much effort this would require compared to the benefit.


    ¡°You should rely on your squad to protect you at close range.¡± He had said, but all Peter heard was that the dead man simply wasn¡¯t good enough. And so Peter supplemented his own weakness with a weapon that would keep his squad distant. If anyone paid the cost for his own failures again, it would be him.


    But so long as Peter¡¯s hand stood at the ready to light that pilot flickering in his pale greenish-yellow nutrient tube, his enemies would know a suffering only possible thanks to his intimate knowledge of the boiling point of flesh. He would do a rough calculation on the spot and stop firing just before the point of death, but only after the enemy was thoroughly incapacitated. This was a fine line to walk paved with many charred corpses, but as they say, you can¡¯t make a good omelet without first burning a few eggs.


    Following Peter was Dio, Alissa, Alex, Henry, Jessica, and Yuna. Dio and Yuna wore augmentation gear, while Alissa sported some next-generation arms only granted to a select few that had allegedly been created out of recent developments in new flesh forging technology. Alex and Jessica had no special gear of Anya¡¯s note, but Jessica wore a patented scowl as though she resented being made to come out here and ruin her chance to train (in bed, by herself; or with Dio and Will doing Emperor-knows-what behind closed doors, probably nothing good¡­ like training improperly and building incorrect muscle memory).


    It was especially hard to tell what these folks had equipped on account of their being positioned behind or two rows in front of Anya. For Peter, she knew by heart, but for the others¡­ well, she didn¡¯t care. It was important that you don¡¯t step in front of the flamer, but beyond that their equipment wasn¡¯t relevant to her tactics, and Anya wasn¡¯t currently handling any strategy, nor could she. The pain in her brain and organs had subsided even before taking the fifth pill, but even if it had not returned after she was in no position to think. She suspected the lack of pain was because of the minimal change in dosage from four to five as against one to four, but with or without this knowledge it was clear she needed to avoid taking any more or exacerbating her current state. The normal limit was one. The normal exception was two. Anya was at five¡­.


    But as Yuna and Jessica slotted into place at the prior-hall-facing edge of the T-shaped intersection, Anya heard more screams through the door at its end, this time muffled and barely audible.

 The Burden of Central Command

    They came to the end of the hallway and all their guns and ammunition became as meaningless as the bodies carrying it. So many arms now at last met with their counterpoint. So what if the unit had positioned itself so tediously if the enemy never showed itself? The only accomplishment their grand show of force had enacted on the world was in wasting their energy. And yet simultaneously now it would be drawn to a sharp point with all senses heightened in what was certainly the moment of climax of this point-to-point retrieval mission. Surely Melissa would be behind the skin-door, and surely the mission would be over soon.


    So Peter moved up to the right side, with Henry just behind and Yuna in line with him, prepared to enter first after he activated the pattern. Anya, Will and Jes¨²s took the right side offset from the door, positioned at angles opposite Lululu, Chris, and Luther, all of whom were prepared to fire through their friendlies to hit any targets within vantage with Raethor, Dio, Alisa, Alex, and Jessica ready to follow the front sub-squad from the right after the breach. It was a suicidal maneuver for any other unit, but so long as their aim held true and the entering friendlies didn¡¯t deviate from their pre-planned routes there would be no danger. Or at least, none beyond tolerance. So Peter tenderly and quickly traced the folds of skin as though he knew them all too intimately and the door unfolded itself.


    As expected, the moment of climax had arrived, but it did not come from within the doors. There was no surprise when all the already-lacking color of this space with no windows or sunlight began to desaturate as the first tiny point of inverse light opened up from within the room and poured over the hall in a wave of absent color that drained what little was left in this place. And then as the skin spiraled out on itself there came red from within again as though it had never left. Behind her the color did not return, but within the room came pure perfect red light as though everything else had been stripped away. Taken from outside and placed inside this room whose container overflowed into itself with everything gone from the rest of the world none of them could see.


    And in their center, as the spiral folded open like some flower¡¯s petals blooming for the harvest, was a single beautiful reproductive organ. That is to say Melissa¡¯s organs splayed out on the outside in the shape of a doll only just resembling the humanity they had once been contained within. The bright blue uniform that had once adorned their outer skin was forced inward and bloomed in verdant shades of red and nothing, its blue dye having been extracted and destroyed in creating this picturesque thing whose nature did not resemble man. The body had been female, but what did it matter now? And the body had healed them, but no more. The organs had transcended their need for flesh and at last been released to the outside of the skin for all to see.


    Bullets rang out from Anya¡¯s left and front equally, as though the lifeless flower could harm any of them, but when Anya looked down the barrel of her bone rifle whose little vessels pulsed with life and with anticipation for long-neglected use, her finger could not resist its alluring nature and the chorus that called out for it to squeeze only just slightly. Melissa¡¯s bright gray uniform found itself splayed with holes, and her intestines and spleen found themselves bleeding gray blood as though their color, too, had been extracted and worn outside instead of within.


    Anya¡¯s bullet pierced right between Melissa¡¯s black and white eyes and left one small dripping hole that would not refill itself again as Anya¡¯s rifle would. Though now it was empty and would need to be recharged, there was more than one on her back prepared to fire should only she draw them, even if it wouldn¡¯t be necessary. Melissa¡¯s head flew back and then rocked forward as though a strong gust of wind had struck it, and in a way this was right, it just carried more rocks than normal and at higher speed. But her body resisted the impact and did not fall.


    And though it was clear that Melissa was already dead when they opened the door, color began to restore itself as they entered in all spots save one. Within the pile of organs only just resembling humanity there was a peculiar spot that Anya only just caught a brief glimpse of before it was engulfed in fire. Though she was behind him, she could see Peter¡¯s eyes grow wide through her mind¡¯s eye, and did not need to question that it was his flamer that had engulfed the body with excuses and platitudes of danger and avoiding contamination. But Anya could see in the moments before his finger tightened that a realization had dawned on his face. There was no smile. Not even a flicker in his eyes, but she could tell. Why else would he destroy the body?


    And when its orange glow finally faded there was no trace of Melissa left: only a pile of ashes scattering itself around the room as fourteen soldiers poured into the place they had once occupied. In the same moment color returned to the world, but only 90%. There was something missing, something off about the room they had entered, as though the entire plane of the world had been set askew. And they all felt it, but the first words out of their collective mouths came from Will, who despite being called ¡°bootshiner¡± at last questioned the authority of this place they had so carefully come to defend.You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    ¡°This is Central Command? That¡¯s it?¡±


    He wasn¡¯t wrong, it was an empty room. A hundred foot square with empty walls and no content save for the smoldering ashes of a corpse and fourteen bodies at their center.


    Peter smiled a wry smile, but said nothing. Raethor spoke instead,


    ¡°Central Command exists to be assumed compromised.¡±


    ¡°What?!¡± Alissa screamed in a valley-girl accent.


    ¡°You couldn¡¯t tell?¡± Dio gloated. ¡°If there was anything here we¡¯d have been given orders or brought here for punishment.¡±


    ¡°Instead our superiors have been silent.¡± Peter added.


    Raethor smirked. It would seem he had been granted wise soldiers.


    ¡°But if there¡¯s no one here, who¡¯s been giving us orders?¡± Jessica asked, confused and pleading for security. Had her life been a lie?


    ¡°I have.¡± Raethor affirmed. What kind of question was that? Was her life a lie? Her superior officer was standing right there in front of her.


    ¡°Nothing¡¯s changed, I¡¯m still your beloved Commander.¡± He emphasized the last two words, putting his hands behind his head and doing a spin of his hips. It was kind of revolting.


    ¡°Who¡¯s been giving you orders?¡± Will asked.


    Raethor did not respond. This was one of the great privileges of leadership. If a subordinate asked a question you didn¡¯t want to answer¡­ you didn¡¯t have to.


    Alex looked his sister in the eyes in this passing moment of silence, interrupting it to chide her as Dio had Jessica. ¡°Did you not remember the hair dye?¡± Anya knew it was something of an inside joke between them, that Raethor had made them shave their heads and then Lululu had come onto the base with bright pink hair that went to her ankles, but more pointedly, that no other commander would ever allow such a thing. Even if it meant forcing them to dye their hair black or remain permanently bald, the natural or unnaturalness of their hair wasn¡¯t relevant against the military''s perception of what was natural. Consequently, the fact Raethor had allowed them to keep their flamboyant hair implied there was no or minimal risk of a higher-up seeing them, and thus also that there was no superior command stationed on this base.


    Or they could just look at Raethor, Anya thought. It didn¡¯t take a rocket-surgeon to understand his spandex leotard wasn¡¯t up to the military dress code.


    But beyond these questions and the continual distractions they posed themselves as a counterweight against the grim reality of this new situation: Melisssa was dead. Not only that, she had been skinned and butchered like some animal. Worse than that, Anya wasn¡¯t even sure her flesh had been eaten, only that her organs and clothes had been turned inside-out. Her corpse had been desecrated and the enemy didn¡¯t even have the decency to eat her. It had been a deliberate act of waste intended to drive one point home.


    Fear.


    ¡°Though we can consume you all, there is no need. You are not strong enough to resist. Everything you are will fall and falter. We will destroy you and everything you stand for without hope of resistance.¡± Anya could practically hear the words on the beasts¡¯ many lips. ¡°You will not survive, and we will enjoy your terror as you¡¯re gutted one by one.¡± But there were no words as such helpfully written on the ground, and there was no message for them to read stating the purpose of the attack, its goals, and what would happen next. There was only the corpse, and even it had been destroyed.


    ¡°Why did you burn Melissa¡¯s body?¡± She demanded of Peter.


    ¡°The necrites may have corrupted her.¡± He answered plainly.


    ¡°That¡¯s a bad excuse, she was clearly dead! We shot her fifteen times in the preceding second!¡±


    ¡°And as I said, that may not have been enough.¡±


    ¡°You could have waited long enough to find out!¡±


    ¡°And risk our deaths?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s right.¡± Dio chimed in. ¡°You should have shot the hallucinations as well.¡± Lululu nodded as if to affirm her own weakness in not taking the first shot. There was no need to take risks when it came to magical abominations. Even if you stood to gain information on their anatomy and the exact line of damage it would take to kill them, overkill held no meaning if you had an inexhaustible supply of ammunition as they did. Peter¡¯s nutrient tank had been barely tapped, and would certainly be filled back up again by the time Melissa¡¯s ashes stopped smoldering¡ª and likely long before that.


    ¡°Fine.¡± Anya conceded. ¡°But what about the organ?¡±


    ¡°The what?¡± Lululu asked loudly.


    ¡°She¡¯s seeing things.¡± Jes¨²s said. ¡°Female hysteria. First David and now this? Next she¡¯ll see a mountain of erect cocks where the enemy¡¯s rifles¡­¡±


    ¡°Shut up, Jes¨²s, they don¡¯t even have rifles.¡± Luther demanded. He shot Luther a dirty look like ¡°You shut up, ******.¡± But his tongue did indeed shut itself up in its wet hole of teeth.


    Anya glanced warmly at Luther, who said nothing, only meeting her gaze for a brief moment as if to say, ¡°Go on. No one¡¯s stopping you.¡±

 Breathing in the Ashes

    ¡°There was a white organ in the pile. What happened to it?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t see anything like that, but I guess it was destroyed.¡± Peter lied through his open teeth. It was clear he¡¯s hiding something, but more than that he wasn¡¯t thinking at all.


    ¡°What happens if our present situation is related in some way to the necrosis bomb?¡± Alex finished the thought for her.


    ¡°Won¡¯t we be infected with the organ-rotting disease or whatever you called it?¡±


    ¡°Organ sickness.¡± Peter answered, having not given the term before.


    ¡°And you burned the first body you found?¡± Alex continued.


    ¡°...¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯ve damned us if there¡¯s a connection?¡±


    He brandished his small autorepeater, augmented with magic to possess a smaller form factor.


    ¡°So you¡¯ve killed us all already before we¡¯ve even had a chance to fight back?!¡±


    ¡°And we¡¯re just supposed to¡ª¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s enough, Peter.¡± Raethor interrupted.


    ¡°If you want to see the ninth circle of hell you could¡¯ve asked me this entire time. I¡¯ll gladly show it to you. This isn¡¯t anything special or different. You¡¯re a soldier. Get a grip.¡±


    Raethor had spoken in a firm voice, but as if to lighten the mood he finished his thought and gave clarification on what exactly he meant by the ninth circle of hell.


    ¡°By which, of course, I¡¯m referring to my asshole.¡±


    He smacked himself with one hand as if to emphasize the point. Anya groaned, but he had been successful. Alex let his weapon down, and Raethor didn¡¯t press the issue any further.


    There was a long moment of silence as the group gathered their collective thoughts.


    ¡°So what happens now?¡± Yuna asked in a half-broken Asiatic accent.


    ¡°We all die!¡± Alissa chimed in helpfully.


    ¡°If you want to die I can help with that, but the rest of us have a fight to win.¡± Will said, resolutely standing against her defeatist notions.


    ¡°We¡¯ll make our enemies weep tears of blood.¡± Henry added, broken record that he was. You could slit a wrist on all that edge. But his feelings seemed to echo all of theirs. They didn¡¯t want to lose this fight and die like dogs sent out behind the shed for the long trip to the farm. They were soldiers, not dogs, not cattle. This wasn¡¯t a fight they had to lose, and though they had lost one of their own it didn¡¯t seem to phase them. This wasn¡¯t the first casualty any of them had faced, and Melissa was a relative newcomer to the unit anyway. Her loss would be felt, certainly, but none of them were particularly attached to each other, with few exceptions. There was a bond of camaraderie, but ultimately when the time came, each one of them would pull the trigger alone. Whether or not a fellow member of their unit stood by their side was inconsequential. Only they would feel the flex of the trigger and the recoil of a departing round. Only they would watch a hole form in the human called an enemy and know it had been their hand that had made it.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    In some units barrage fire made this direct acknowledgement of responsibility impossible, but in their unit it was the norm. All of them had confirmed kills, and all of them knew the pain of losing a comrade. But after a point it became routine. You get up and put on your boots and go to mess. You train and drill and eat and train and drill and watch each other die, pick up the bodies and move on. Only one thing was certain for their profession: there would be more bodies. Friend or foe, there would be more.


    But from a tactical perspective it was quite a shame to lose a healer. It would mean their injuries were no longer going to restore themselves as if by magic at Melissa¡¯s hands. They would build and fester until the maggots came to clean out the rotting flesh. There would be flies not long after, and there would be no healer to strike them down. They would have to resort to barbarism¡ª shooting them with bullets and fire instead.


    On the other hand, it wasn¡¯t a death sentence any more to go into combat without one. Augmentation made them heartier than average and the base¡¯s cutting edge research facilities allowed them basic access to new flesh for procedures. As such, even if losing a limb was a tactical disadvantage, if they were allowed to hold those facilities it would be possible, if costly and time consuming, to repair the injury, and the same was true for any other wound. The only wounds they would not be able to heal were internal and mental, but even then¡­


    ¡°We need to inform the Most High.¡± Dio said coldly, and Raethor knew he was right.


    ¡°What we need is to control our weapons caches and supply lines.¡± Anya countered.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t we split into subunits¡ª¡± Peter began, but Raethor swiftly cut him off.


    ¡°No.¡±


    Peter¡¯s confusion was plain on his face, but Raethor offered no further explanation. Instead he began to examine the corpse, which is to say to collect Melissa¡¯s ashes into a small jar he had prepared from¡­ his rear meat pocket? Anya had no idea where he was possibly supposed to store things in that uniform, but the gray metal jar was clean, undemonic, and unmolested by rust or any other signs of decay. It was plain and fitting as a soldier¡¯s last resting place. He began scooping the ashes from the ground to the jar, and little black plumes of dust wafted up into the air as he worked.


    ¡°Then we should at least contact our superiors. They need to know what¡¯s going on, and we might need their support.¡± Peter continued, but if this really was happening everywhere then it would do them no good.


    ¡°If we waste time on reinforcements, the enemy will secure our basic supplies and we¡¯ll be dead on arrival. The reinforcements will entomb us here without even bothering to check for signs of life if we lose contact. You know this place is like a labyrinth. They won¡¯t come inside without a foothold already established.¡± Anya countered.


    ¡°But if we don¡¯t and the enemy is as strong as we fear then we can¡¯t delay the call. We¡¯ll be dead even if we can secure the supplies.¡± Dio added in support of Peter¡¯s point, but Peter himself was already thinking a step ahead in a framework no one else possessed.


    ¡°There are weapons here you can¡¯t imagine.¡± He began. ¡°But we¡¯ll need authorization from on high. They won¡¯t start until the Most High issues the iron decree necessary for their start sequence to go through.¡±


    Lululu then explained where Peter¡¯s answer left gaps, ¡°The weapons he¡¯s referring to are powered by the Most High directly by proxy of their conduit. That is to say, me. The iron decree they issue is a global parameter set in the fabric of our country whose power flows through my veins. Until that parameter is set, none of the heavy machinery on this base will amount to anything more than waste scraps of flesh, and you¡¯d be hard-pressed to cut your toenails with the hardware, even if it looks like it¡¯ll kill you by looking at it.¡±


    ¡°Even so,¡± Anya objected, ¡°we can¡¯t use it if we starve.¡±


    ¡°Even so,¡± Dio countered, ¡°we need more firepower.¡±


    ¡°Our enemies will eat lead, and we will eat our enemies.¡± Henry said in a rare moment of sense. But could they eat an enemy made of each others¡¯ distorted flesh? Well, yes, but would it poison them? That was the more pertinent question with no good answer. Perhaps someone could try a taste of Melissa¡¯s ashes? But that would be¡­ an unpalatable suggestion and Anya almost recoiled at her own detached callousness for thinking it. Though again, they were soldiers and this was effectively wartime¡­


    But Peter beat her words to the punch. ¡°We need to get moving.¡± ¡°Raethor, what are your orders?¡±


    ¡°My lieutenants are in agreement, so we should go back to the comms room.¡±


    ¡°What a waste of time.¡± Anya almost muttered under her breath, but again caught herself. Did she want to leave Melissa to die? It was her fault Melissa ended up here in the first place¡­ It was her fault Melissa ended up dead.

 You Will Be Granted Salvation

    But it would do them no good for Anya to ruminate on her thoughts, so she strove to suppress them as they stepped back outside of the bare emptiness that was their Central Command into the bare emptiness that was the base connecting the endless rooms by way of equally endless halls. All with no bodies inside them. All with so little purpose.


    And so Anya took to the rear-right again alongside Will and Jes¨²s, with Lululu, Luther, and Chris on the rear-left, Dio, Alissa, Alex, and Jessica on the front-left, and Peter and Henry on the front-right. Raethor was in the center, and Yuna to the front-right nearest him, acting again as a melee-range backup in case the enemy showed itself directly from the walls or ceiling without chance to react.


    But there was no dripping flesh and red and red and red and red from the halls as they moved tactically back row to front to back row to corner and door. Peter simply touched the inscribed ring of flesh inside flesh that pulsed rhythmically with the beating veins inside it and they simply opened without fanfare. Fourteen bodies entered the same armory that they had set out from. Fourteen bodies crowded around the two comms links on either side of the long hall that was this room, and six bodies helped plug Chris and Yuna in on either side. By the time the metallic skin of the sphincter-door closed, they had all collapsed in a standing position from exhaustion, and Raethor seemed especially pale. It didn¡¯t seem so hard to stand at attention without even a rifle drawn, but perhaps the burden of command had really begun to eat away at him. Perhaps his first dead soldier in many years had torn off his mask of sanity.


    But there was nothing off with his words when he gave the order to begin transmitting to the Most High as Chris and Yuna¡¯s jaws tightened. The long pale yellow tissues intubated with veins and nerves that connected to them at wrists, ankles, and breasts had bound them tightly into the base, just as the muscle-clad bone ribs that had been fallen from retracted panels in the ceiling and now hugged them tightly from above kept them firmly in place. The sensation of sight and speech from a thousand eyes and teeth and tongues was nauseating, but the sensation of sending a message outside the base was somehow worse as not only did they have to control a thousand thousand tissues, all of them had to coordinate with each other and with themselves in a symphony of bodily conflict to create the strength of signal necessary to wirelessly connect to the Imperial signal network. That is to say they needed to broadcast a synchronization request to all targets in the country, as they had no knowledge of where exactly the members of the Most High were located at any given time.


    The seconds passed in agony as their flesh was consumed not to power the base, whose interior nutrients and exact mechanisms were obscure even to its designers who had all perished long ago, but to control the base whose power was beyond anything anywhere else in the nation. Most broadcasts took place over a long network of flesh-nodes, each tasked with the same repeating step of signal combination of the multiple disparate messages into one, and the same broadcast step inward and outward towards and away from the central imperial signal processing core, but this one demanded both perfect security and high speed. To walk the nodes was slow and prone to interception, and the Most High was a perfect target for impersonation, being as their identities were a blank slate. It would be possible to use the network anyway on an encrypted channel, but every step along the path added a second or more of transmission delay, and each step itself only covered a handful of kilometers.


    The flesh relay was a marvel of modern technology powered by an endless stream of fresh bodies and supple nutrients, but this base was one of the few and perhaps the only place in the world capable of circumventing it by the sheer strength of a single signal. Unfortunately, in contrast to the flesh relay this single node was overseen by two individuals broadcasting over all waves in the specified channel given to the base. The seconds passed in slow-burning agony. Tick-tick-ticking away their sanity and flesh into evaporated matter expelled from their lungs, hearts and minds destroyed in every second of the process.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Chris gripped the ribcage that bound him so tightly Anya was afraid he would break the bones holding him together, and Yuna¡¯s toes curled so forcefully it seemed her arches were about to form a perfect circle. But at last as the two in the chairs at opposite ends of the long hall found themselves about to break, the Most High returned a synchronization acknowledgement. At last the base could power down and begin multicast transmissions destined for multiple fixed points. Anya had a basic understanding of how you might synchronize data from one point to another, but how the imperial signal network guaranteed lossless transmission to and especially between multiple points was unclear. Perhaps it stored the data for a brief period inside the network? She supposed this could work if the repeater nodes had sufficient memory inside their skulls, but given the sheer volume of data that flowed through them it seemed impossible¡­ Perhaps it was only guaranteed for high-priority transmissions.


    Whatever the mechanism, it probably wasn¡¯t important beyond a base level. She just remembered the time before when there was no flesh repeater and no wireless transmission technology, only a relay network powered by flesh walking on two and four and eight legs. So slow and prone to death along the way: but now her messages could be guaranteed. Now she didn¡¯t have to worry about lost orders causing the deaths of many comrades in a single blow of lacking movement.


    The base sent back an acknowledgement alongside the first message in their transmission. There was still a significant delay to these messages, so it would be a rather stilted conversation.


    ¡°Oh Most High you grace us with your Presence and we revere your noble grace.¡±


    In less urgent times the beginning transmission was usually sent alone, waiting for permission to speak which was all-too-often denied. But in this case they could not wait and could not ask. The only requirement was that they were heard. Decorum be damned to hell.


    ¡°We must report a most pressing situation.¡±


    Chris and Yuna¡¯s lips and tongues and teeth spoke as one.


    ¡°An enemy composed of contorted flesh has appeared before us, and struck down two of our own. We think it may perhaps not be possible for our meagre selves to destroy the enemy as thoroughly as demanded of our post. We deeply regret this failing, but plead for your mercy and support.¡±


    They had been presumptive, but it was deeply important that the Most High hear their plea. They knew to be denied would mean a fate worse than death, and yet despite how unnatural the words that escaped their lips had always been, there was no alternative.


    A deep and deadly silence fell over the room as a miasma of saliva descended from the walls as lips formed on every surface above and below and beside as teeth formed to protrude from under the slivers of red-blue lips in just-visible yellow stains. From every surface the same tongues spoke the same words in perfect unity.


    ¡°You will be granted salvation.¡±


    And then the walls fell silent and the mouths that had covered every surface and ceiling and spot between their feet on the floor emptied themselves from all the open surfaces as the connection terminated. Yuna and Chris slumped into the backless stool¡¯s suspended rib cage for support, their energy totally drained, but at least reinforcements would come, even if they had no knowledge of when, and at least their equipment should be unlocked, even if they didn¡¯t know where it was, looked like, or how to operate it.

 Unwrapped Skin

    But Peter did. It was the only way forward now: to find and utilize this mysterious heavy equipment to their advantage. And yet despite this information asymmetry the man revealed nothing as he demanded they compose and equip themselves as before to begin the long march into defea¡ª victory they would soon find at the end of the many halls. Even Anya agreed this was the only way. Despite their desperate need to secure enough supplies to survive for God-Emperor knows how long it would be for naught if their only ticket to victory and survival was destroyed. As Henry had said, even if their supplies were destroyed there was always the admittedly risky but still real possibility of eating the enemy instead. It wasn¡¯t clear they could survive such a thing, but if forced into the choice between traditional food and death by lack of arms and starvation but enough weapons to procure a possible food source¡­. Well, one option at least had some hope of escape.


    So again they stepped into the gray hall and prepared themselves in the square formation and again began to move tactically, but at some point down one of the many long spans Anya finally had enough of watching Chris limply drag his legs. It wasn¡¯t only out of concern for him and the others, but equally as much for herself. She had blood caked on her own arm from where the nerve had been severed, and the whole of her outsides and insides hurt like hell from the exertion, not to mention the mental fatigue of constantly having to be on edge.


    ¡°We should step down the readiness level.¡± she suggested loudly, hoping for and succeeding in getting the group to stop their death-march.


    ¡°The enemy waits for exactly that to drive a dagger in our back.¡± Henry suggested. He wasn¡¯t wrong. The hall had desaturated beyond 90% and Anya only just noticed. It was hard to tell, but the already bland scenery was subtly off in ways that the fluorescent light alone couldn¡¯t explain. Color had begun to return in full lacking glory in this place without sunlight after they made it to the armory, but again being outside its closed door and walls it had become clear that the enemy was near.


    ¡°We can¡¯t afford to let down our guard.¡± Lululu added, and Dio agreed. ¡°It¡¯s stupid.¡±


    Jes¨²s couldn¡¯t resist throwing out a barb. ¡°Your feminine stupidity¡ª¡± he began, but Luther cut him off. ¡°Shut up Jes¨²s¡±


    ¡°You want to die, monkey?!¡±


    ¡°Shut up, Jes¨²s.¡± Anya commanded. He looked at her quizzically like ¡°do you think you can order me around you stupid ****,¡± but then he realized that, in fact, she was operating as his superior in this instance and he himself needed to shut his wet tongue-hole for the second time. He looked to the ground, dejected, as his grand glorious message of sublime truth fell on deaf ears.


    Raethor parted his lips to speak but Anya interrupted him. ¡°If we don¡¯t slow down, some of us will break, and if some of us break the whole formation will fall apart. We can¡¯t afford to slow down because then we¡¯ll never arrive in time, so as a result our only option is to break this approach and step down our readiness level.¡±


    This time, Raethor had the first words. ¡°I agree.¡± He himself looked pale and tired. It was uncharacteristic of his burly and ostentatious frame. Anya wanted to ask him what was wrong, but as her superior in the midst of command it would be undermining his post, so she held her tongue. So they began to walk normally at moderate pace without portions of them sprinting and stopping to allow for maximum readiness and target coverage. She knew it was a bad idea, and as the steps went on it became more and more clear that this was a bad way forward, but they had no other options.


    The color continued to desaturate as the endless halls stretched on and on into the distance.


    80% became 70.


    70 became 65.


    65 became 40.


    40 became 0.Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    And they walked once again in a black and white world whose fluorescent glow had lost even what little blue it had possessed. But their feet stretched on and the halls continued. There was no other option. Nor was there red. Nor was there blue. There was only gray and gray and gray and gray and gray and gray and black-white gray. It stretched off in all directions. White wall. Black darkness. White wall. Black darkness. Edges of their mixture between. White spots above. Dark shadows below. The units¡¯ feet continued forward through this dead space devoid of even the most basic signs of life.


    The base didn¡¯t care. Its lips did not speak sweet nothings and comfort to them through the walls. Its eyes did not watch them moving ever-forward into its depths. Its endless teeth did not devour them. Its many tongues did not so much as touch their boots. It was neither subservient nor above them, only the walls. Only the force that conditioned the air and maintained their supplies. It would continue to do so long after their departure. It would serve the flesh-beast necrite horde as well as the current occupiers. But for now it did not care, and for eternity it never would. The walls would not cry when the occupants died. The floor would not scream for lack of trampling.


    But inside its many long walls the base did have much in store for them. It had been some thirty or forty minutes of marching uneventfully by this point, and though the enemy could easily have ambushed them it seemed to have a pension for the dramatic. There were no attacks for the next ten or twenty minutes as Anya¡¯s mental and physical state continued to decay. Her pills had a short half-life, and with every additional dosage the exponential depreciation of their effects mounted. And in the absence of stimulants and power her weak body¡¯s natural strength had returned. A military body honed by years of training found itself with the exhaustion of a new recruit. She was some infant tossed to the long halls to be destroyed as the others dragged her lifeless corpse along against the concrete floor to rub away its skin and reveal what was inside her. Not even she knew what would happen in desperation, but didn¡¯t they all? None of them had been on the true point of death. They were soldiers, but in this time that meant either death or survival. There was no close call or third outcome. Even as Melissa¡¯s position of medic had become less and less necessary thanks to their augmentation, as their energy waned they began to feel more and more like unaugmented soldiers.


    And those poor sods would be tossed to rifle-fire without regard for their lives, making the existence of a nurse equally unnecessary. They would pour over the top of a ridge and find their comrades dead beside them, falling forward as they themselves acknowledged there was no hope for survival. But there would be more bodies. There were always more bodies behind to push you forward, and though at some singular point along the endless rows there would come one whose victory and survival was assured, the chance of this was both slim and known. Those halfway up the battlefield knew from the moment they pressed forward that this would be their end.


    But staying behind was somehow worse. And Anya felt this way now. Of the looming pressing dread compressing her spine from above as an endless weight and gravity. She knew they all felt it. She could see Raethor¡¯s shoulders beginning to slump as his chest took hold of the battle between them and the rear delts, exhausted and only barely hanging on to futile resistance.


    But more than the physical exhaustion, the endless steps into black and whiteness grated on them all. This place without the sun was already so hard to survive. This place without grass and company and progress had at last found its dead end going forward. The doors were closed, and they were trapped inside. It would be possible to leave, but nonetheless they were trapped inside by duty and by obligation to themselves and others. What would it mean for a soldier to abandon their post in a time like this? They would all die, and yet to abandon their duty now would cause a fate worse than death to greet them in a beaming smile as though it had always been waiting from behind, just out of sight, to embrace the stragglers and the weak among them.


    But for now the choice between death and death made itself clear and as it ever was did not bother with the art of surprise. What need has death of an ambush? You can already clearly see its shadow. And as shadows the bodies of their enemy began to emerge from the darkness as unwrapped and contorted skin whose bindings had been shed loose to reveal what lay beneath. Exposed muscle bared itself in black and white before them from all directions. A thousand bodies hidden in the shadows had stepped out into the light of inverse day wrapped up in a lightbulb inside the walls that blotted out the sun. And yet now Anya was grateful for the lack of natural light, because even in the dim and low-contrast halls of this base now filled to bursting with occupants, she felt sick just looking at the display and was unsure if she could stomach a clear picture of those who stood before her now.


    Their every surface oozed the slime of decay, though there was no smell. Some were more viscous than others. Some dripped wetly, and though there was no color it was clear that all of them were red and red and red, and if there was to be a scent it was clear that the only choice would be pungent iron and rotting flesh.

 Endless Bullets. Not Enough

    The necrite horde moved quickly¡ª perhaps at the speed of an unaugmented human¡¯s sprint¡ª even in her decayed state Anya¡¯s perception could track them easily, and she was sure the same was true for all the rest of their unit. It was their misfortune to have been crossing an intersection at this time, but all things considered it could have been worse. There were no enemies on the ceiling, nor did they come from below. It was only down the four long halls that their foes awaited them from all directions. Anya looked first at Raethor for orders, then tracked his gaze to Peter who wore an expression like ¡°we can¡¯t just run to the armory.¡± and then back to Raethor, whose face had hardened and whose body language was masked in the long-worn composure of a hardened soldier. If he was going to die, every last drop of him would go before that was allowed to happen. There would be no reserves.


    And so Anya understood and began issuing order 9 to her subunit. They instantly rotated counterclockwise (that is to say in the direction opposite their finger-clocks counted) and Anya positioned herself in the center of the rightmost hall with Will and Jes¨²s on her respective right and left, able easily to follow her orders should she give them bluntly. She took out her rifle and heard the first shots begin to sound. BANG. Click. BANG. Click. BANG. Click. From all sides the same noises rang out as their unit began suppressing fire one. Tactics would soon begin to take shape, but for now they wielded their most basic arms¡ª the autorepeaters whose rotation and charge cycle was all-too familiar to all of them by now.


    One shot. One second to recharge. Pull out the next rifle. One shot. One second to recharge. Pull out the next rifle. Five rifles later the first would be ready again, and though Anya had considered taking only two ARs at first in the armory, she had ultimately decided on this number to allow for continuous fire through a charge-cycle¡¯s duration. Because she had this role covered, Jes¨²s was equipped with heavy ordinance and Will had taken a support role. So she lined up her first rifle for the first shot as the sounds of others¡¯ shots had already begun to deafen all noise from the space. There was only her and the bared tissues of the enemy who felt close enough to touch as her iron-sight lined up the first target. BANG. Click. A hole appeared in the first skull and a gray liquid poured out as its head fell backward and the body fell limply into the shadows of the floor. But there were more bodies. Always more bodies. So many bodies on either and all sides.


    She pulled out the second rifle and lined up its only-just covered barrel against her cheek. BANG. Click. A hole appeared in the next forehead. She reached backward and pulled out the third rifle, throwing the second to her left where an outstretched glove awaited the next rifle to cycle. It attached it to the next position and resumed an awaiting position from its post fixed to her nutrient pack.


    BANG. Click. She aimed for the pupil this time. It bled grayly as before. BANG. Click. Another body. BANG. Click. Another true shot. BANG. Click. Too many bodies. Six shots per second and too many bodies. So at last she was the first to evolve her tactics in the first second of combat.


    Anya looked first to Will on her right and it was understood the time for support had arrived. Will lobbed the first grenade forward as Anya¡¯s gaze shifted leftward in continued disbelief and astonishment that Jes¨²s would continue to shoot the shadows rather than whole beings even when their lives were on the line. His rockets fired hotly with the reckless abandon of a soldier lacking the care to conserve blood and nutrients, and yet their targets never quite found themselves true. He did hit targets, but rather than firing where the enemy was most thickly concentrated the damned racist fired on the place with the most black targets. That is to say he was an inverted light detector. Consequently, when Anya gave Will his first command, it wasn¡¯t to lob a flesh grenade. That would be effective, yes, but would still leave their subunit at a low effectiveness. She therefore had Will procure a flashbang and lob it at the regions with the fewest enemies. This would prompt Jes¨²s to fire in the opposite direction¡ª therefore hitting the regions most dense with necrites. She hated having to do this, but Raethor was counting on her to defend his right side and Anya would be damned if a single drop of his blood got spilled from her side.


    Will threw the grenade, and Anya shot it at the top of its arc to ensure a successful detonation. Yet another flash of artificial light filled the room, this time at least approaching some semblance of the brightness of the sun, even if its hue was all wrong and its magnitude was still far short of the real thing. All the bleeding corpses of living men were illuminated with harsh white light and Anya wretched at their foul appearances.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    She knew they were bleeding, but not this badly. Every surface was covered in blood. She knew they were mangled, but who knew what a blender to the face looked like? Apparently it was like squid. Open and bleeding and bleeding and bleeding red turned black in the desaturation turned gray by the harsh light of a flashbang. Inside the bloody squid-flower was a beautiful polished skull so white Anya almost thought it had been bleached. Its only exception was a small black dot on the forehead where cracks had emerged¡ª perhaps where it had been pierced and controlled prior to its submission beyond death. Another of the flowers was blooming with the cracks of a broken skull. Shattered and destroyed. Broken and mutilated. Skulls and flesh and no eyes. Open and bleeding without sight of its impending destruction. And yet it marched forward anyway with the certainty of a thousand eyes. The horde did not care when their skulls were shattered. They did not care when their bodies were mutilated beyond the point of being able to walk. They would drag each other by the arms and crawl ever-forward unto Raethor and Anya and Jes¨²s and Will¡¯s deaths all the same. For every body destroyed there was another another another again.


    Walking through the blood. Walking through the charred corpses left by Jes¨²s¡¯ continuous rocketry. But now Anya was faced with another problem¡ª that he was firing on ashes¡ª and so was forced to issue the second order to Will¡ª he would now begin lobbing flesh grenades. ¡°ONE!¡± he shouted at the first. It landed in the pile of ashes as intended, and exploded with the faint light of a muzzle-flash. This was the product of modern engineering. This was the product of the Third Tribulation. These were the fruits of Peter¡¯s work and the work of those like him.


    In the next instant the volatile gas inside the grenade began seeping out and corroding everything it touched. The world shattered like broken glass, and everything inside of it was reduced to the thing viewed from outside the windowpane. Cracked and obliterated. Turned to dust like it had never been whole. Called the reduction to flesh to signify that all things found inside its blast would be rendered mortal. Seen to fall in on themselves in writhing agony as blood and sinew and organs and bodies of black and white necrites reduced to atoms still found themselves pressing ever-forward, insatiably, unable to die. And yet they would be rendered nothing. Folded in on themselves and burned by the divine wrath of His Emperor¡¯s might.


    Nothing and no one could survive. And in the wake of the first detonation there remained nothing but an unsmoldering hole. Not even the vapor of that destroyed remained to be known after the fact. In its place was nothing. In its absence were more bodies that ran forward to fill it up. In their midst Anya threw another grenade, and another group of the skinless living was unwrapped all the way, but they didn¡¯t matter. None of the bodies mattered. They were all replaceable. They were all meaningless. So many bullets and flesh grenades. So many rockets and shadows illuminated by Will¡¯s projectiles. Every one found their target. Every one rendered some twelve or twenty of the bleeding less than a pile of flesh, but where once there was the living bleeding now there was nothing and the next group in their place forever. On and on down the halls with no end in sight. On and on through Anya¡¯s sanity, with no bottom to be found.


    Not because Anya hadn¡¯t killed before, she most certainly had, but because despite the ambitions of the dead she had always had a purpose in killing them. They had besieged her homeland. They would rape their nation¡¯s women and plunder the corpses of the fallen and those destined to fall. That is to say they would leave no living in the Imperial capital, only the bleached flags of an empire without janitors; only the dying remains of something once powerful enough to command a continent now left as the moon and stars¡ª some orbiting colony whose only purpose was to be plundered and rendered a barren waste. But the moon and stars were out of reach. The Imperium was not; and for this it must be defended.


    And yet the bleeding living corpses of unwrapped skin did not pulse with the ambitions of life. Their bodies bled as if there was no end to what was inside them, and yet there were no words shouting grand ambitions of conquest to those soon to die. There was only the silence of footsteps amongst the blood and the black and white dripping of the inside of bodies and bodies left without any purpose other than to destroy. There was no purpose in killing them. There was no honor, no end goal. She put a hole through their heads and it grew back on some other body that took the exact same steps to the exact same place. It didn¡¯t matter that they died. It didn¡¯t matter if they lived. What was a gunshot against infinity?


    And so she shouted backward to Commander Raethor that they needed to retreat. Even if their ammunition was infinite in theory the practice of its use meant draining the vitality of the one producing it. Even if the guns could fire forever, their bodies wouldn¡¯t be able to sustain it. They would starve or die of thirst. They would die to the enemy or a gunshot to their own head produced in a moment of terror in the pure dread that two and three and four and five nights without sleep would produce. Even if they could fire forever, Anya was certain it would come to an end long before they had passed through the first second of infinity.

 Willing Sacrifice

    Commander Raethor understood the gravity of the situation. There would be no end to the bodies and on all sides he could see his subordinates¡¯ growing fatigue. They were used to combat, but even suppression fire wasn¡¯t meant to be sustained in perpetuity. You brought along reserves to cycle out the active combatants. All the soldiers being active meant a failure of command, but in this case there was nothing to be done. There were four halls and fourteen soldiers, yes, but four halls and an endless sea of the enemy from all sides. Anya¡¯s group was holding, and Lulululululu¡¯s enhancement of the others¡¯ firing potential allowed them to make faster shots with less of their energy (using the extra autorepeaters she had brought along for this purpose), but Dio¡¯s group of four was still incapable of holding the line, and Peter only had Henry to back him up. His flamer would fire for a long duration, but once it tapped out its nutrient vat the firing mode would switch to real-time and Peter would be hard-pressed to blink, much less stand or run, and that was if he could sustain the rate in the first place. He was good, but Raethor didn¡¯t think anyone could do that, even him. And though he was the best or second best shot in the unit, it wouldn¡¯t matter in the face of a thousand thousand thousand of the enemy. Henry could fire quickly, but for what purpose? He could pick off the stragglers and hold the line, but once Peter had to switch firing modes or drop the flamer for a rifle, the two of them simply didn¡¯t have the man or firepower to hold their position.


    So Raethor did the only thing he could and ordered a retreat but there was nowhere to go. In practice this order was a death-sentence as he would have to take Alissa and Alex from Dio¡¯s group and put them in Peter¡¯s. But Peter overheard the order and demanded it be changed.


    ¡°Let me stay behind instead.¡±


    They didn¡¯t have the manpower to push forward on one side without losing it on one of the others. This meant whichever side was chosen would lose the ability to hold off the enemy and would be killed in action. Dio shouted back.


    ¡°You don¡¯t need to sacrifice yourself, Peter; It¡¯s a good day to die!¡±


    But Raethor knew what Peter was thinking. Even if he let Dio hold the line as best he could, Jessica was with him. She didn¡¯t object to Dio¡¯s proclamation of courage in the face of death, but even if they were both telling death to go fuck itself as it swung the sythe down on them, it would mean losing two soldiers instead of one. And Raethor wasn¡¯t supposed to lose any¡­ But it was almost too late now, and if he tried to save them all he would end up saving none.


    Peter had faced death before and came out alive, Raethor knew that, and he knew why Peter had chosen a flamer as his weapon of choice. It was for moments like these when there was no hope left of success, only that one soldier would be able to hold the line long enough to allow the others to escape. Peter had chosen the flamer to prevent his allies from getting too close, but more than that he had chosen the flamer to hold the line alone. If someone had to die to protect everyone else, Peter would be the one.


    Dio, Jessica, Alex, and Alissa made the swap with Peter between lines, as Raethor and Yuna suppressed the enemy as best they could with his shoulder-mounted cannon and her tiny pistol. It was enough to prevent a total loss from happening in the second they swapped, but the enemy did gain some meter or so in the duration. The other groups began bunching up, moving inward toward the center of the four-way intersection of halls and preparing to make the death march down the hall Peter had defended and would give his life to take, but as they stepped backwards Anya did not make the switch to Dio¡¯s forward line as she was supposed to. Instead she motioned to Lulululu to defend their combined position and made the quick strides to join Peter hand-in-hand.


    There was no time for Raethor to object before Peter felt the flamer¡¯s growing weight in wide-eyed disbelief. Was she dual-firing it? How? Even the best soldiers he had ever worked with would fail doing that. It required a perfect synchronization of pulse and nerves with the target by way of the rifle or other armament, but given Anya had sprinted the distance between them and had been engaged in active combat in the second prior, there was no chance her heartbeat should be soft enough to match Peter¡¯s still holding of the trigger.


    And yet the vat below the flamer¡¯s barrel grew heavier in each passing second as though to laugh in the face of Peter¡¯s impossibility; as if to spit in the face of his resolve to die. What Peter didn¡¯t know was that in the mad dash to his position Anya had taken another pill to make six, then she took her seventh, and then in the knowledge seven would not be enough took an eighth. It only just gave her control of the pulse, but her mind was blank. Every muscle ached in the lacking oxygen. Her brain throbbed in its deprivation of life, and yet it almost felt right, as though this was how it always should have been. Choked and made to feel nothing; mind blank and veins throbbing as her finger grasped Peter¡¯s finger on the trigger and veins connected to the same armament as his. This was what it meant to be a soldier. Not sitting in the base training. Not eating and sleeping and training to watch each other die. It meant risk. It meant doing the impossible because it must be done. It meant killing the enemy to protect your comrades no matter who they were and what they felt. It meant scoffing at the impossible and doing it anyway to kill just one more hostile combatant and protect just one more ally. It meant killing infinite bodies because it must be done and who else could? Certainly no one she knew.


    Certainly none of the other soldiers staring in disbelief at the fact Peter was no longer destined to run out of nutrients and die in his defence of their rear position. Consequently, the whole unit was able to immediately reposition forward with Anya and Peter at the rear. There was no pause as they came to terms with what had just happened, and Dio did not shout obscenities at her for being better than him, nor Will, nor Jes¨²s, nor Jessica. And as Anya felt the weight of attention press into her the fire grew hotter as she and Peter adjusted the flamer¡¯s output to match the newly-increased nutrient input rate. It was so high the flamer was no longer operating in the stored operational mode, it had switched to real-time nutrient consumption, and even in this state both of the operator¡¯s had energy to spare the movement of feet to keep up with the rest of the unit now pressing forward.If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    White fire burned hotly as if to propel them all forward. There was gunfire to the fore, but Anya didn¡¯t watch it. She looked into Peter¡¯s green eyes and he noticed, his pupils darting to the left to meet her rightward gaze. Anya felt the weight of many bodies burning away in front of them but paid them no mind. She stared a hole into Peter, but he did not cede the position. There was no gratitude worn on his face. There was no hope of reprieve. He knew they would likely die here, or perhaps that there was some secret way out deep within the base. But whatever he knew, it wasn¡¯t shown on his face, and no matter how deeply Anya tried to penetrate Peter¡¯s eyes he gave no information away. Finally, finally after some minute of this Anya gave in to his stubbornness.


    ¡°Fine, then keep your secrets.¡±


    There was a pause as only footsteps and gunshots sounded out.


    ¡°Thank you.¡± Peter shouted because of how loud the area was.


    ¡°It was nothing. I¡¯m sure you¡¯d do the same.¡± Anya knew he wasn¡¯t a cold bastard deep within his scientific facade. So what if he had developed a war-crime? There wasn¡¯t any law against weapons of war, not when he created it. And it had been for just cause.


    ¡°I tried to, you know.¡±


    ¡°And I wouldn¡¯t let you!¡± She let out a smile. Peter did not reciprocate.


    ¡°Thank you.¡± He said again.


    Anya let the silence of a thousand gunshots take back the scene. Her tinnitus rang out too, beneath the cacophony like a wall of ringing static, but it wasn¡¯t so bad. All the soldiers spoke loudly anyway since they all had it. And it was better than silence anyway. Ringing in your ears was an easy reminder you were alive and not dreaming. In that sense it was an excellent defensive weapon against those who would seek to put you to sleep or some other dreamlike state. Though again it wasn¡¯t like they couldn¡¯t craft an illusion with the ringing built in¡­


    Anya was off topic. It was so easy to let the thoughts run wild when the action falls. You almost had to to stay sane. What kind of person dwells actively on the pervasive scent of burning flesh and gunshots choking out all other senses in the scene?


    But it didn¡¯t take long for them to arrive at their destination. Some five minutes or so had passed. Down at the long end of the halls was again a flesh lock, but this time it was much larger than the others had been. Had someone listened to her threat to place a bomb up the designer¡¯s ass and rebuilt the base out of anxiety at the thought? The base was alive, she knew, but she had no idea why it would be scared of that. Did it even have a rectum?


    Anyway¡­ Peter was needed at the front so Anya slid her finger to the top of the trigger from on top of his to allow him to move out of the way. Behind her a few of her comrades had joined in to help shoot the stragglers that would make it through the fire now that its size and intensity diminished, but most of the sounds of gunfire had faded, and the fire grew much less small and hot than any of them had anticipated. Raethor screamed in excitement like some little girl. The vibe of his speech very much did not concur with his deep voice.


    ¡°Good to see you¡¯re holding up lieutenant¡ª I¡¯d say your performance is on fire!¡±


    ¡°Meanwhile, Peter, you need to eat more or you¡¯ll be skinnier than my di¡ª¡±


    He started coughing.


    ¡°Di¡ª¡±


    ¡°Di¡ª¡±


    ¡°THAN MY DICK.¡±


    He finally managed to spit it out after hacking his lungs out. There was blood on the floor where he had hunched over, but it wasn¡¯t even a funny joke. Anya rolled her eyes, but Will, Chris, Yuna, and a few others were all laughing. She guessed it lightened the mood, even if it cost him half a lung.


    Meanwhile, Peter traced out the necessary information on the right skin panel with a knife he had procured from God-knows-where. Many of the other panels required only a trace of the finger or knuckle, but this one was special in that it was a lock-in. There had been efforts in the past to install two panels on either side of a door with the tracing mode, but it had been finicky to synchronize two people¡¯s movements enough to perform the unlocking sequence in a chaotic environment. And if the military needed to procure heavy weapons¡­ it was a chaotic environment. The requirement had therefore been reduced but with an increased emphasis on getting the sequence right. This had the added benefit that more people could learn the sequence as they didn¡¯t have to also learn each other¡¯s timings.


    Peter¡¯s dagger slid the patterns of inset rings smoothly on the skin which dripped gray blood ordinarily one of the lighter shades of red. It didn¡¯t take him long to finish the right side, and it didn¡¯t take him long to finish tracing along the left. In a hissing woosh the flaps of heavy skin unfolded themselves from within the center door¡¯s thick walls. This door, unlike most others, was not exposed to the elements. Its interior would first unfurl, and then the metallic outer layer would fall into a chasm exposed from below it.


    Anya¡¯s trigger finger ached and she realized her hand was shaking from gripping far too tightly for far too long. ¡°Just a few more steps.¡± she thought, entering the open door last and continuing to fire until Peter had stabbed the door-retraction mechanism on the opposite side. Only when the fire at last bloomed outward to show her the halls had been fully sealed off did Anya finally relax, dropping to her knees in exhaustion. It wasn¡¯t befitting of a soldier, nor even of the kind of person she wanted to be, but even the strong were sometimes forced to their knees under sufficient strain.


    She wasn¡¯t sure what returned first: the color of the world or her whirling, blackened vision that had set in all at once, but when it all stabilized she knew only 75 or perhaps 80% of it was there. As before, something had been lost in the combat. Some piece of her humanity or perhaps something inherent to the world had been rendered flesh and destroyed. Perhaps it was only a feature of this base, but they hadn¡¯t taken the chance of asking the Most High to find out. Their words had been cryptic enough, asking them whether the world had been distorted was begging for a dishonorable discharge to the back of the head by your superiors in the moment of asking the question. Asking something so stupid would cause the Most High to ask equally important questions: such as regarding the quality of the weed supply on the base. It must have been good stuff and thus they would need to requisition it for their personal supply, seeing as their name implied you should only be able to get the best stuff from them.

 The Four Imperial Ends

    For now they needed to determine what the Most High had meant in promising salvation. Were the heavy weapons active? Were reinforcements inbound? Or was ¡°salvation¡± a euphemism for their deaths? It was always so tedious dealing with them. A normal chain of command would issue orders, but noo, the Most High had to issue encoded messages only understandable by those with experience taking hard drugs. She supposed it was a more effective code than some decryptable cipher or another, but it was baffling to anyone not in the know, and Anya wasn¡¯t sure even Raethor had any idea as to what they had meant.


    Step one, however, was easy. If they had meant the heavy weapons would be activated, that was straightforward to verify. Anya had never seen them herself, but from the general comments she had heard in passing on the base¡­


    ¡°Holy mother of fuck.¡± Will said loudly. Raethor did not speak, perhaps saving himself for more important words. Anya didn¡¯t object to Will¡¯s description. There were four weapons in the room, if they and it could even be called that. Were they underground? It was unclear how such a massive space could possibly have fit inside a flat-topped base that wasn¡¯t as high as a mountain otherwise.


    Will had probably seen the largest of the four weapons first, even if it was relegated to some back corner. It was as tall as a fifteen or twenty-story building, and so ridiculously huge it was hard to even imagine how one or fifty or five-hundred people could pilot it. They had to plug themselves into that? Their whole body would be drained drier than a cup of water poured from space into a planet-sized desert. Their nerves would be utterly blown out. Their very sense of self would be¡­ probably obliterated, and that was if the many selves plugged in didn¡¯t immediately cancel each other out entirely. Their bodies would be rendered an empty husk, and she guessed that was what the countless skeletons that dotted the structure had originated from: hopeless souls in search of salvation that had bound themselves to the biggest weapon in the room¡ª and possibly the whole world¡ª knowing that if they could only activate it all their threats would be gone. The problem was that they weren¡¯t strong enough to make that happen. The weapon in its mountainous size had consumed them as one more drop of water in a rainstorm. They didn¡¯t matter to it. They probably hadn¡¯t even given its nutrient vat 1/10th of 1% more content, and that was if it even had one.


    It was hard to even understand what she was looking at. A thousand thousand billion wires of flesh and nerve and sinew all spun along like cables wound and taught against its lack of skin. The exposed muscle and bone themselves weren¡¯t white or red, nor were any of the cable connections their proper colors either. She looked more closely at one of the exposed bones running along the many haphazard limbs of the creature and realized that every one of them was itself composed of nerve, bone, blood vessel, sinew, and muscle, and each of these was in turn composed of some oozing gray-white-brown material whose borders were so small they were hardly recognizable.


    Yuna seemed to know what it was, and that led Anya to believe she in fact knew also. Lululu spoke first.


    ¡°Colossus.¡± Its name was Colossus. How apt. ¡°We can¡¯t use it, so don¡¯t even think about it.¡±


    ¡°And just why not?¡± Dio asked instead of Will. Even Anya was excited by the prospect of a mountain-sized tentacle monster crushing her foes. Even in its collapsed state where it looked like nothing more than an amorphous mountain-sized hunk of flesh she knew it could kill everyone it came across without exception. It didn¡¯t matter how many enemies they had if they all died. Even infinity itself would quiver in terror before this grand weapon¡¯s destructive might. And that was if their enemy truly was infinite, which wasn¡¯t certain yet.


    ¡°It needs at least fifty archons to turn on, and another fifty to take a single step. You can¡¯t even think about firing its blood pulse without several hundred more to charge it up beforehand.¡±


    ¡°What you mean to say is that we¡¯d need a few thousand sacrificial lambs.¡± The words of Chris echoed through space from nowhere into all ears.


    ¡°Usually you¡¯d use enemy corpses.¡± Lululu corrected.


    ¡°I alone am worth at least a few hundred standard soldiers!¡± Dio boasted.


    ¡°Maybe if all but a few dozen were small children.¡± Alissa said from behind his back. He did not turn to face her, merely saying to add Alex in there for a few hundred more, and with Anya and Peter there¡­ maybe they could do it.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    ¡°No, we can¡¯t.¡± Lulululululu countered. ¡°Don¡¯t even think about it. We¡¯d be dead before it even started  the launch sequence. If you¡¯ll see, it''s been cold for centuries. They didn¡¯t even bring it out for the Great Tribulation before the necrosis bomb and autorepeater had been developed. If it wasn¡¯t worth using then, it isn¡¯t worth using now.¡±


    ¡°If you can¡¯t perform a clean shut-off, the mass of humanity would become sentient.¡± Chris¡¯s words hummed like bees from all directions.


    ¡°The same is true if you can¡¯t sustain its required input.¡± Lululululu continued. ¡°And after that it wouldn¡¯t differentiate friend from foe because all had failed to sate it.¡±


    ¡°Has anyone ever used Colossus?¡± Jessica asked, legitimately curious.


    ¡°The First Emperor used it to conquer the original empire¡¯s borders, but the weapon grew restless and ran through a quarter of our continent before it was finally stopped by a global coalition of archontic power. It''s what created the Imperial Wastes, and the other powers were so frightened by it they began preparing for what would become the First Tribulation.¡±


    ¡°But by that time,¡± Peter interrupted, ¡°three other weapons had been developed that rendered Colossus obsolete: autorepeaters,¡± he gestured to his back, ¡°Synarchy,¡± he said, pointing to a large humanoid object, ¡°and Judgement,¡± which on the other end of his finger was a small box with a single button atop its mirror-sheened surface.


    Synarchy wasn¡¯t a mountain of flesh. It was scarcely even inhuman. Peter gave context that the empire had begun learning how to forge the new flesh, but its structure wasn¡¯t particularly interesting¡ª just a large body with open bones (alongside a few dotted patches of rot), no skin or head, and an open ribcage covered in metal for the single user to enter and pilot. Atop it and in place of a head was the thing responsible for its operative mechanism: a nearly-flat bone and metal dish rendered yellow and with holes by time. Through this receptor it would channel the empire¡¯s might into a single beam designated by the autocannon in place of its right arm (there was no left). Anyone unfortunate enough to find themselves on the other end of this cannon would find themselves melting. Not because their tissues would boil or anything so dramatic, but rather because their bones would liquify. This would have the effect of rendering them noncombatants, and would leave them in more or less living state to achieve the added benefit of becoming fuel for the machine such that it did not require an army of fifty just to start. All it needed was a single operator and a stream of hostile combatants. Everything else was taken care of by magic.


    Judgement was similar, but didn¡¯t require the large mechanism. Peter gave a short explanation. ¡°By this time the new flesh had become something of a known science and its machining became almost routine to the flesh workers tasked with forging useful objects out of it. Around this same time we began creating prosthetics from it.¡± He gestured to Yuna¡¯s pants-covered leg, but didn¡¯t comment on it further.


    ¡°Judgement is the logical end of a weapon created to kill the enemy. There is one button, and one user. With the push of this button everyone nearby is judged worthy or unworthy of life; with or against this one user. If they believe the same archontic fabric of reality and magic power that the user does, they are judged worthy. Otherwise they are found wanting.¡±


    ¡°And what happens to the ¡°wanting¡±?¡± Will asked. It was hard to imagine a single button could do this.


    ¡°Reality collapses on them.¡± Lululu explained. ¡°Their corpses are so thoroughly destroyed there¡¯s no bodies left to collect. Some have speculated the enemy is turned directly into pure magic energy, but I wasn¡¯t able to confirm that personally.¡±


    ¡°Personally?¡± Anya¡¯s voice was quite loud for a person so recently collapsed to her knees with exhaustion.


    ¡°Yes, personally. You didn¡¯t think we had this gear for show did you?¡±


    Anya was left wondering again why she or Jessica or any of the other more normal and/or stupid soldiers were possibly here.


    Then Peter gestured to the final weapon.


    ¡°Pleroma: God-Killing Sword of the Heavenly Emperor¡±


    It was a normal-length sabre with no special qualities, save for the fact it was bone-white. So white, in fact, Anya didn¡¯t think it looked real. Every passing second she stared it grew whiter, like it was piercing a hole in her soul through the eyes it gazed into. So white, in fact, it looked like a hole had been punctured in space where a sword should be.


    ¡°Why is it here? Shouldn¡¯t the Emperor have it?¡± Anya asked softly, recovering from the strain of a loud voice.


    ¡°He can¡¯t use it.¡± Lululululu answered.


    ¡°What?¡± Anya asked again.


    ¡°He can¡¯t use it.¡± Peter affirmed.


    ¡°Can anyone?¡± Yuna asked, almost softer than Anya had.


    ¡°No.¡± Peter and Lululu spoke in unison.


    ¡°Then why is it here? Why was it made in the first place?¡± Yuna continued.


    This time Raethor seemed to know, but he was so quiet Anya had to move closer to hear him. So close, in fact, her feet were stained with the blood of his earlier cough.


    ¡°For the promised day we¡¯re granted salvation.¡±

 Betrayer

    ¡°What?¡± Yuna and Anya asked simultaneously this time.


    ¡°It was created for the Fourth Tribulation.¡±


    He started to cough.


    ¡°At least¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m glad I won¡¯t be there to see it.¡±


    Anya¡¯s stomach dropped and her vision started spinning as her world lost its color again.


    He didn¡¯t stop coughing. Dio hurried over to clap Raethor hard on the back, and it did seem to help, but the labor of the big man¡¯s breathing did not subside. He was hunched over and looked half-dead and Anya found herself in the same braced position, not even because they had been so close, but he had been her world in a platonic way. And he wanted to die? Now?


    ¡°What do you mean you won¡¯t be there?!¡± Anya half-screamed.


    ¡°He means Peter killed him with Melissa¡¯s ashes.¡± Will explained bluntly.


    Anya stood up quickly and pulled her autorepeater on Peter, though her spinning vision made it hard to aim.


    ¡°Fuck you you stupid fucking bastard I¡¯ll¡ª¡±


    Raethor struggled out a few words. ¡°Stop it.¡± The seconds passed until he could collect his breath.


    ¡°Take a pill, Raethor, it¡¯ll help you!¡± Anya pleaded with him.


    ¡°He¡¯s gotten this bad in, what, ten or fifteen minutes since we got here?¡± Jes¨²s began. ¡°Whatever it is, it¡¯s hitting him hard. A pill isn¡¯t going to help.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s right, Anya.¡± Raethor affirmed. ¡°I can feel my lungs getting heavy.¡±


    Anya hadn¡¯t dropped her autorepeater, and didn¡¯t plan to. Her vision was still spinning but she could take the shot. Peter was fast, but her bullet would be faster.


    Henry began to step between them. ¡°Didn¡¯t you just save his life?¡±


    ¡°He deserved to die!¡± She screamed, finger itching with anticipation only just held back by sanity.


    ¡°He will.¡± Luther comforted, ¡°But let him die at his own hand, not yours.¡±


    ¡°The poor bastard probably killed his own family to ¡°protect them¡± from himself!¡± Jes¨²s insulted, creating strange bedfellows.


    Peter was unperturbed. ¡°You know what I did was justified.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not Peter¡¯s fault I collected Melissa¡¯s ashes, Anya.¡± Raethor said.


    Anya closed the distance and moved leftward towards Judgement and Pleroma to create a better angle, caring to preserve enough distance Henry couldn¡¯t grab her rifle barrel too easily.


    ¡°Anya!¡± Raethor began to shout, but quickly collapsed into a coughing fit. He was deteriorating rapidly now.


    ¡°If we kill each other the enemy gets what they want!¡± Lululu shouted. Dio nodded along.


    ¡°And if you kill him you¡¯ll be marked KIA.¡± Dio continued. There was more than subtext in his words. It was true the High Imperial Court could act quickly, but their powers of judgement extended only so far beyond the borders of the Inner Sanctum, and this place was far outside their reach.


    Anya sneered. ¡°You¡¯d kill a superior officer and protect the man who did it.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re the one who saved him!¡± Lululu quickly retorted.


    Raethor finally fell to the ground, exhausted, and with his fall Anya finally noticed the pool of blood he was lying in, and in looking down she finally saw what had been stuck to her feet ever since stepping into the first shallow spattering he had coughed out.


    A faint strand of white was stuck to her jackboot, and there were little threads all inside the blood pool Raethor was lying in, alongside larger clumps of it where the threads intersected. They were as white as Pleroma but neither stained nor whitened with time. They were outside time and uninterested in interacting with this world.


    Peter brandished his flamer on a comrade for the second time that day. ¡°You know what I have to do,¡± he said calmly.


    ¡°He¡¯s not even dead you cold bastard!¡± Anya yelled in reply. Henry was beginning to look like he was prepared to intercept her shot by the way his hands were moving slowly to collect his own rifle off the shoulder. Was such a thing even possible?


    ¡°If you¡¯re with me, fall in line.¡± She finally decreed. This wasn¡¯t a matter that could be settled in words.


    ¡°If you stop me from burning his body it¡¯s as good as killing us all.¡± Peter quickly answered, but her words had scarcely left his lips by the time Anya responded the same way as before.The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    ¡°So you say. Fall in line!¡±


    She was nominally second in command. In the event of Raethor¡¯s death it was her right to assume his post. Anyone who didn¡¯t accept that was in direct opposition to an order. Though by the same token, Raethor wasn¡¯t dead yet, so if they were to assume his pulse they had to also assume his authority¡ª and Anya¡¯s lack of it. This allowed some degree of legitimacy to Dio and Lululu¡¯s movement toward Peter. It wasn¡¯t unheard of for junior officers to form a triumvirate of sorts in the event of a strong officer¡¯s death. None of them really possessed the authority to fill his shoes, so it wasn¡¯t unreasonable to pool themselves toward that end, at least until a suitable replacement could be determined. This was an especially common practice in subunit-based units such as theirs, where though Raethor was the common glue holding them together and crafting their strategy, subunit tactics were almost entirely left to the lieutenants'' discretion.


    Dio¡¯s subordinates followed him, which was expected. They weren¡¯t particularly close to Anya and in a matter of direct conflict with another peer officer it only made sense for them to stand by their direct commander. For this same reason it was unsurprising, if not 100% expected, that Jes¨²s and Will stood by their commanding officer. For all his jokes and insults, Jes¨²s did respect the chain of command, and even if he thought the abstract ¡°woman¡± should be at home in the kitchen, he did respect the fact that Anya wasn¡¯t, if only out of respect for her role as his superior officer. As close as they were to Dio and Jessica, this was a matter of duty, and on this they were aligned.


    It also helped that if Anya did possess any degree of kitchen-based skill, she would be able to cook Jes¨²s beyond a char in the event she assumed command and they abandoned her. By all rights, command was hers to take, and by all rights, they should be her lieutenants in the aftermath.


    Yuna, then, was a wildcard, seeing as her superior officer was on life¡¯s chopping block. But she liked Anya more than the others and respected her commander¡¯s choice of succession. She therefore moved to Anya¡¯s side more quickly than anyone else. Her agile nature was on full display to the others.


    What was surprising, then, was that both Luther and Chris deserted their superior officer for Anya. Lululu wasn¡¯t surprised, but the disappointment was clear on her face. ¡°Why?¡± it screamed, but there was no explanation from either party, even if Any could guess. Luther, though he deeply distrusted Jes¨²s, generally respected Anya. If anyone was going to shut Jes¨²s down after things shook out, it would have to be either her or a helpful stray bullet in the ensuing violence. Dio was actively complicit in Jes¨²s¡¯ racism, and Peter¡¯s stance was unknown. Lululu could be trusted to maintain unit cohesion, but with Dio being her equal it was unlikely she could wield enough authority to actually do anything in that block. Anya wasn¡¯t a saint, but she was likely the more reasonable option with Dio on the other side.


    Jes¨²s, of course, said nothing. He could shout racial slurs at Luther, but at the end of the day Anya needed support. Besides, he could always cast Luther aside later by whispering sweet nothings of his incompetence in Anya¡¯s ear.


    Chris was a wildcard. He said little to this point and his opinions were generally unknown, but one thing was clear: where Yuna went, he would follow. It seemed likely that was how the logic played out this time as well, seeing as he had no known opinions on their future leadership. It didn¡¯t help the three-block that he had been relatively close to Melissa compared to the others on account of his severe disability. The same was also true for Yuna, of course. Though her leg was mainly a weapon in terms of maintenance, it did sometimes require medical checkups and tuning to ensure smooth operation, leading them to spend more time with her than the others on average.


    And so the lines were drawn. Will, Chris, Luther, Jes¨²s, Yuna, and Anya on the one side, with Dio, Alissa, Alex, Jessica, Peter, Henry, and Lululu on the other. Raethor let out a sputter, and it was clear he was on death¡¯s door. They needed to feed him the pills and start healing him as best they could immediately. Anya had already taken eight, but she had six left. Melissa was dead, but with Lululu here they had the magic necessary to do something, surely! It had been some fifteen or twenty minutes now since he walked in here with scarcely a cough, but now he was almost out of life. It was unnerving, but at the end of the day Anya refused to let¡ª


    Raethor started to shake violently, as if he had been possessed. Was he having a seizure? Quickly, they needed to get him some pills¡ª


    It was at this moment Peter decided to burn the corpse. Anya¡¯s finger scarcely saw the fire before it pulled her trigger, but Henry¡¯s arms moved just as quickly to his own rifle, firing a counter shot that perfectly deflected her bullet up and out of the way.


    There was a second gunshot and then deafening silence as they all collectively decided that they didn¡¯t want to kill each other after all. But Anya¡¯s finger still itched for the trigger. As much as she knew she shouldn¡¯t have pulled it the first time, or brought out the rifle, or brought things to the point they would have to make the active choice to kill or not to kill their comrades, it didn¡¯t sate her anger for Raethor. Even if it was misplaced, even if it wasn¡¯t Peter¡¯s fault Raethor had decided to stir up the ashes and even if she had admitted in hindsight that it may have been a good idea to burn the body that didn¡¯t change how she felt. And she felt it was Peter¡¯s fault.


    But her trigger finger stayed itself, though not entirely out of a sense of duty. In the moment and silence after firing a shot she had known would never find its mark there had been a falling out of gravity. The light found itself scattered sideways and her body pulled in all directions as the air spiraled around her neck, prepared for the moment it was finally allowed to twist the flesh off if only Anya¡¯s finger would allow them to.


    Every hair on her body screamed to put the gun down, and even as her finger resisted it obeyed its well-trained command. The back of her neck still felt tense, but the air calmed down at least, and she could feel her weight return to normal. Dio seemed to have anticipated this, as his relaxed body language showed and his words confirmed.


    ¡°I told you so. The weight of glory watches us.¡±  She wasn¡¯t commander yet, even as Raethor died. It would take a moment for his authority to transfer, and it would seem killing a peer meant immediate judgement from on high.


    The fire continued to consume Raethor, and quickly there was nothing left. When he was nothing but a pile of ashes Peter finally stopped the flamer and pulled out a small bag from his supplies. He placed the bag over them, and collected them without allowing the air to make contact.


    ¡°We have to find a way out.¡± He began softly. ¡°Or all our deaths will be in vain.¡±, gesturing to the ground with the small gray bag he held in both hands. Anya¡¯s rifle was still smoking, but it had recharged itself by now. She could fire off another shot if needed, but at this point¡­


    ¡°If you try something like that again I won¡¯t miss.¡±


    ¡°Neither will I.¡± Henry said as though it was a known fact.


    They didn¡¯t seem to take the shot all that seriously, but she supposed Henry had been prepared and it wasn¡¯t like she had even bothered moving before taking it. She also had Will and a number of flashbangs, Jes¨²s and his heavy weapons, two autocannons on her own back, and far faster reflexes than she had been letting on. It would have been a simple matter to kill Peter if she dedicated herself to the effort, but that hadn¡¯t been the goal. Why did he have to make things so hard? Why did Raethor have to go and die on her¡­?


    ¡°I will now assume command.¡± Anya said, looking Peter dead in the eyes.

 Judgement of the New Commander

    Dio and Lululu both opened their mouths to object, but Peter spoke first. ¡°Fine then, Commander, but we need you to think as well as shoot.¡±


    Anya gritted her teeth but did not respond to the jab. Unit cohesion was already poor, and it was likely they would remain split along the lines she had drawn for the foreseeable future. She could put those lines firmly in place by readjusting the command structure, but that wasn¡¯t a priority now. What they needed was clear: to find out if the heavy weapons were operational.


    Colossus was unusable. Even if they had the manpower¡ª which they didn¡¯t¡ª they wouldn¡¯t be able to control the weapon, and with the enemy being capable of assimilating flesh¡­ well, it seemed inadvisable to serve them up a mountain of it on a silver platter. At least in its present deactivated state the weapon was likely more dead than living and thus perhaps less likely to be usable by the necrites. They may even need to destroy the weapon before leaving, now that she was thinking about it, but she¡¯d consider the matter further after dealing with the other weapons.


    Judgement was incredibly dangerous, especially now. With Anya having drawn lines between their unit it was likely that the button would kill six or seven of them in one press, and if those remaining objected to its use then it would soon kill them also.


    Pleroma, like Colossus, was unusable. Anya wanted to reach out and touch it, but given the weapon was called God-Killer, that seemed like a bad idea. She wasn¡¯t a god or a hero, only a woman. There would be no means to wield it if even the current Emperor was unable.


    Which left only Synarchy.


    ¡°How do you turn it on?¡± Peter began, clearly thinking along the same lines.


    ¡°We have to open it to the power of our empire.¡± Lululu answered, familiar with the use of such weapons, yet momentarily forgetting that not everyone was an Emperor-blessed archon of immense power and knowledge.


    ¡°Anya has to command it to turn on with the authority vested in her by the Emperor.¡±


    ¡°But I wasn¡¯t appointed by Him? Do I even have that authority?¡± Anya asked in return.


    ¡°By the power vested in me I command you: rise!¡± Lululu shouted, but nothing happened. ¡°I can¡¯t do it because I¡¯m not in command.¡±


    Peter gave the same words to the same effect while Dio remained silent. Anya supposed the Imperial authority would have been transferred on Raethor¡¯s death. She knew she shouldn¡¯t say this, but couldn¡¯t stop herself from asking:


    ¡°How would this have worked if my aim had been true?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t think about it.¡± Lululululu said, but was quickly interrupted by Dio.


    ¡°You¡¯d be dead.¡± He repeated bluntly.


    ¡°And who would have the authority now?¡±


    ¡°Who knows?¡± Lululu continued. ¡°It¡¯s better that you don¡¯t think about it.¡± She seemed to speak from experience, but it was unclear if this lack of thought was to Anya¡¯s or others¡¯ benefit.


    ¡°By the power vested in me by the divine right of our glorious Emperor, I command you: rise!¡± Anya announced with all the power her voice could command. The air stirred, but the dust long-caked on Synarchy¡¯s flesh attached to its all-too-solid bones remained in place. Anya¡¯s feet shifted in place. Was she not granted the authority Lululululu claimed?Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    But then the ground began to shake as the open bones of a machine made to render them liquid responded to the command of its master. Light exploded into the bone dish atop its head in place to receive such power as it regrew the long-decayed flesh that once covered it. Beneath the dish was a once-open body coated in metal for security that had now begun to writhe with life. If she didn¡¯t watch blood pour over every open gray vertical surface in perfect tension she wouldn¡¯t have believed it didn¡¯t pool down below the machine. Perhaps it wasn¡¯t even accurate to call it that. She wasn¡¯t sure ¡°heavy weapon¡± was sufficient either. Its legs, once thin and emaciated, now found themselves the picture of Raethor in the flesh. Striations and missing skin displayed the teardrops of perfectly sculpted quads, and to match him the entity knowable only as Synarchy wore no loincloth or covering of any kind, though it wasn¡¯t like it had reproductive organs to cover at all. There was only the smooth merging of flesh to flesh and metal covered by flesh. But from the torso Synarchy¡¯s appearance changed from human-like muscle to a writhing mass of blood-vessels that reminded her of some disgusting hybrid of leeches and worms. A handful of them connected every which way to the right arm, but many remained flailing about.


    Synarchy rose and displayed itself to be a full two stories high, letting down a vessel to Anya¡¯s feet as the ground finally gave way to stillness in its lacking steps. She boarded it, and soon found herself standing atop the twenty-foot destroyer, her boots squishing in the strangely bloodless flesh.


    She shouted downwards, ¡°Bring me Judgement!¡± But no one moved to obey the command. ¡°We only just watched your hysterics. You¡¯d kill us all!¡± Jes¨²s whispered to himself.


    ¡°You¡¯re on my side Jes¨²s, why do you doubt me?¡± She yelled back. He whirled his head around, bewildered and pointing to himself like ¡°Me? I didn¡¯t say anything.¡± But he did and she heard it. ¡°There¡¯s nothing to worry about,¡± she began, but Peter interrupted.


    ¡°You just split us into sides. If we give you the button and you push it, six of us are dead.¡±


    ¡°The alternative is that we all die.¡± Anya retorted, and she wasn¡¯t wrong. If it came to using that weapon, friendly-side deaths were guaranteed. That was just how it worked. Even if you used it once, that didn¡¯t guarantee a safe second press. Your allies would watch each other die and question your leadership. Sacrifices were always necessary, but rarely were they as salient as watching your superior push a button to directly kill members of your squad. Even if their orders would often accomplish that same end, a meat-grinder operated by someone else was still operated by someone else. It was different to watch your own commander turn the handle that ground you into hamburger by the feet.


    ¡°Still, why don¡¯t I hold onto it.¡± Peter said, knowing Anya would be among the dead if his hand was allowed to rest atop its smooth sides.


    ¡°You probably can¡¯t use it.¡± Lululu chided. ¡°We all tried to activate Synarchy. Do you think I had us do that for nothing? The Imperial Mandate of Command has rested on Anya¡¯s shoulders, and we won¡¯t be able to question it.¡±


    ¡°Even after she nearly killed her own troops?¡± Dio questioned.


    ¡°Yes.¡± Lululu answered. They were allowed to do that. It wasn¡¯t common knowledge among the reserves she supposed, but on the front line? The blood of the dead flowed in great torrents that often made the groundwater run red. It wasn¡¯t uncommon for a commander to lose half his troops in a single battle. They had it easy here¡ª boredom was such a simple worry by comparison.


    But her soldiers did not grant her Judgement, so she repeated again, ¡°Bring me the box!¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve grown drunk on authority.¡± Dio yelled back. ¡°We¡¯re not going to march with a gun to our heads.¡± But he knew it was a mistake to say that from the moment the words left his lips. A heavy blanket of air settled onto his neck, and in that moment he knew that the Imperial Mandate wasn¡¯t a metaphor. There was a heavy scythe resting on him, and though the blade would not cut him down without external force, the force was there and waiting. All he had to do was speak. Dio kept his mouth shut and hung his head. Was this why there had never been a large-scale mutiny? He finally understood why the Emperor and his Most High held such an iron grip on the throne¡ª because no matter where you were and how far away you tried to run, their authority could reach you within these walls. Inside their borders there was no safe space¡ª you were always within reach and they knew it. There was therefore no need for military police or inspections. There was no purpose in keeping a firm hold on doctrine or language when a single rebellious word could be met with instant death.


    Peter gave her the box, and Dio felt the air soften. Was it Anya channeling the mandate or the Emperor himself watching them? He didn¡¯t think such an important figure would care about their backwater outpost, but there wasn¡¯t any good explanation for such heavy-handed power. He supposed it wouldn¡¯t matter for long anyway with Anya holding Judgement. His rebellious thoughts would damn him to death and he knew it. The only question was how long Dio had left to wait.

 Breaking Through to the Sky

    Anya fired a pulse of Synarchy at Colossus. Her bones ached with the effort of powering such a colossal weapon, but it wouldn¡¯t fire for long. A gray beam about a foot in diameter shot out of the seven-foot cannon. It was wrapped in a yellow-white loop that encircled its instantaneously-created fifty-foot length to the massive weapon in the corner, but nothing happened to Colossus. It wasn¡¯t that the larger weapon couldn¡¯t be harmed¡ª it too was made of flesh like everything else and so it too could be rendered boneless¡ª but rather that there was nothing for Synarchy to melt. It was a giant lump of pure flesh without need for bones, and as such Synarchy couldn¡¯t harm it. Judgement would be of equal worthlessness as the larger weapon was deactivated and thus on no-one¡¯s side, but if Colossus were awake it would be on her side anyway. Pleroma could probably destroy Colossus, but Anya wasn¡¯t about to try and wield Pleroma.


    She did take a few giant steps over toward the radiant sword, but knew instinctively the moment Synarchy¡¯s bloody tendrils went to ensnare it that touching the weapon meant instant death, even for one as powerful as herself or subservient to the Emperor as Synarchy. It wasn¡¯t even wrapped in a glass case. It wasn¡¯t entombed. It wasn¡¯t hidden. Pleroma was out in the open for all to see, because the only way to wield it was to be worthy of its use and there were none who fit that description.


    She knew a time would come where someone would draw the Heavenly God-Destroying Sword of the Emperor, but it wasn¡¯t now, and it wasn¡¯t her. So, instead Anya simply issued the order to leave. There was nothing more for them to do here, and they needed to escape to the surface before it was too late. They needed to get out of these infinite walls and rendezvous with the reinforcements sure to meet them on the surface but likewise sure never to enter this maze-like deathtrap.


    Peter shouted back. ¡°We¡¯ll die if we follow you now. Some of us should stay here and keep guard. You know, to defend the base we were posted to protect.¡± There was no scythe around his neck, as his words were true and their military purpose clear. Even if this wasn¡¯t a military democracy, Dio supposed the Emperor or other divine seat of power would prefer his soldiers act in ways pursuant to victory more than maintaining respect or decorum.


    ¡°Raethor¡¯s mandate wasn¡¯t to protect these walls.¡± Yuna said, shouting, ¡°He wanted to protect us.¡±


    ¡°And now he¡¯s dead.¡± Jessica shouted back. ¡°We have to serve victory, not dead words.¡±


    ¡°Dead soldiers aren¡¯t worth anything.¡± Alex added. ¡°If we follow you and you activate Judgement, you may as well shoot us right here and right now.¡± Alissa looked nervous and gripped her brother¡¯s arm tightly. She didn¡¯t want to lose him, but at least they might die together.


    ¡°It won¡¯t come to that.¡± Anya promised. ¡°We have Synarchy, and I swear on the Emperor¡¯s good name that if I have to use Judgement, there will be no other option.¡±


    Anya had wanted to kill Peter, but her head was clear now. It wasn¡¯t an entirely emotional reaction, but however the same her decision might have been sober, her clouded mind was something to be ashamed of. Military discipline needed to be handed down with a clear head, anything else was nothing short of murder. Peter did deserve punishment for killing Raethor, but as a soldier he was more useful alive, and as her subordinate perhaps she would fare better than Raethor had. At a minimum, her eye was on him and her gun would be too if he tried anything.


    If not her own, then Synarchy¡¯s. She was pretty sure it could operate autonomously so if Peter tried anything it wouldn¡¯t be hard to skirt her sworn mandate. But she could feel a binding weight settle into her chest, and was pretty sure it would explode or otherwise strip her of the authority that beat inside her if she broke it. But the words were enough for her troops, who anxiously prepared themselves for what might be the last and most important battle of their lives. There would be no second chances.


    Peter went to open the door, but Anya stopped him, realizing Synarchy wouldn¡¯t be able to fit. She instead fired a gray-yellow spiraling ray of death at the skin lock, which caused the door to rapidly expand as it opened to a full height of some thirty feet, and the ceiling on the other side appeared to match. There was ten feet of room to spare for Synarchy, though she had no idea where the extra height had materialized from.


    Instantaneously she saw the enemy that had waited patiently for their exit. The endless skinless smiling rows of bodies were desaturated to some 60% of blood, but she supposed that was just how this was going to go. On the bright and perhaps dark side, they did retain this last 60% even as Anya began to fire the ray, signaling the start of combat. It made contact with the first necrite¡ª a skinless 5¡¯6¡± female wearing torn brown rags. Her skull was split open from what could have been an axe-wound, but that didn¡¯t stop her and a thousand others from pouring into the space. As the ray made contact, however, she stopped in place as her pseudo-skin (composed of the outer layer of muscle hardened by contact with the elements) began to boil from the gaseous products of liquifying her bones. The eyes rolled in place unnaturally as their cheekbones melted, and eventually fell down out of their sockets, hanging loosely as the legs gave way. She fell face-first due to her chest-forward center of gravity, but there was no ample thud at the bottom, only a squishy pile of red jello product rendered ready to serve. Bone had been rendered separate and leaked out of the living but effectively dead corpse via the mouth and other orifices alongside a healthy dose of blood. This milky-red liquid reflected the beam as it fired on the next target, and would soon fill every surface the unit walked through.


    Anya watched as the first body collapsed, its bones having given way to nothing, and squirmed. It wasn¡¯t so bad, watching this, not compared to being brutally molested or worse by an enemy army. Perhaps this one would simply kill her given their mindlessness, but whatever the case she was sure if they had any thoughts perhaps they would prefer the sexual assault. It would depend on degree, of course, but it seemed difficult to imagine how painful the dissolution of bones must have been. The necrites didn¡¯t scream in agony, of course¡ª they were dead silent¡ª but that didn¡¯t help. If anything it made the situation worse as Anya could hear their bones shatter and the disgusting flesh-on-flesh sound of their fall. She was aware how painful a broken femur might be, and had heard it was one of the worst agonies a person could experience. How much worse must it have been for every bone to find their way to absolute weakness at once? It wasn¡¯t like they were rendered instantly liquid. Anya had time to watch their structure give way, which meant the bones must have encountered a point where they were no longer capable of supporting themselves or the flesh attached and collapsed under the weight. This meant effectively breaking every bone in the target body simultaneously. It would of course be possible to remove the ray before the process continued, but given how quickly the remainder of the process was it almost seemed pointless to try. In those last milliseconds after the beginning of a fall in which every bone was simultaneously broken, they were then entirely converted to liquid within.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    This would have the effect of loosening every tendon in the body simultaneously. Whether the corpses would spasm as every muscle found itself flexing against nothing, or whether they would simply bend inward wasn¡¯t certain. But most of them found themselves overcome by the stronger muscles against the weaker ones, and with nothing to give way but themselves it meant the quads would pull the lacking knees inward and up all the way in like some kind of abortion of a shell-less snail. The calves would win their half of the equation, pulling the shins inward on themselves, but unlike the lower body the upper part was a bit less certain. In some of the larger and stronger-looking men the back muscles won the equation and pulled them outwards, but in others their chests won and pulled them inward toward the folded legs. Most were pulled back, however, meaning the majority of the bodies were packed like a two-spiral suitcase, with their heads facing out. Whether this was a mercy or a curse wasn¡¯t clear, as in the other case they would at least have the pleasure of a fast suffocation. In the majority case the cause of death was less clear. Sure, it was certain you¡¯d die, but how and how quickly wasn¡¯t. Some choked on their own liquid bones. Others were stepped on and had their lungs burst by Anya¡¯s advance. The lucky few were squished into paste by Synarchy itself, but most did not have this luxury. The shock might have killed some, but she didn¡¯t know. Perhaps many or most would suffocate under the weight of their own body not supported above their lungs, but it would depend on the angle they fell at. The only thing Anya knew was that as body after body found itself boneless and ripe to slaughter, she didn¡¯t know if she could keep doing this as a soldier.


    She¡¯d signed up to protect her homeland, but now she was butchering what were certain to be civilians controlled by some higher power. Did they have self-awareness? It didn¡¯t really matter when the choices were to kill or be killed, but there¡¯s really only so much killing one can do before giving in to fate. If all the world stands against you how can you not question if what you¡¯re doing is right?


    But her unit stood behind her as Synarchy pressed forward and Anya knew it wouldn¡¯t be right to abandon them to whatever fate the mindless horde had in mind for them. They would press forward and find themselves outside, and then it would all be ok. But even as she allowed her thoughts to dwell on the future after the slaughter instead of a doomed fate that couldn¡¯t be changed, her muscles and organs and bones all ached with the pain of sustaining Synarchy¡¯s ray of devastation.


    ¡°Peter!¡± she shouted through exhausted breath, ¡°Get up here I need you!¡±


    He came from behind and placed his hand over hers and the machine which had integrated itself with Anya¡¯s legs. She didn¡¯t really trust him, but what other choice did they have? Lululu was the only other person who might be able to drive the weapon, but Anya had never synchronized with her before. She at least knew he would be able to help sustain the machine, even if most of the effort would remain hers.


    But Synarchy did not pierce Peter¡¯s flesh with the thousand needles necessary to sustain its boneshed. The weapon utterly refused to allow another participant. Anya¡¯s head fell in disappointment and shame. She wouldn¡¯t be able to keep going at this rate, but Peter smiled softly at her.


    ¡°You¡¯re stronger than you think. Stronger than any of us.¡±


    She almost felt bad for shooting at him. Almost. But for now he was right. She needed to focus. Anya gestured to her coat-pocket with her head and tongue, poking it out to conserve the effort of moving her hands. Peter raised an eyebrow, but did not comment on the odd gesture. He knew what she was implying, and though he also knew she had taken far more pills than any human could possibly sustain: it was this, or it was Judgement. Peter didn¡¯t want to die more than anyone else, so he reached into her faded blue coat-pocket and pulled out the container one last time.


    He dumped them all in Anya¡¯s waiting open mouth and she didn¡¯t object. Six pills down the hatch. Six capsules of methamphetamine or whatever other good stuff was contained therein. She could instantly feel the difference, as though Pleroma itself was a child¡¯s weapon and the Emperor himself was a baby.


    They stormed forward as Anya¡¯s pulse quickened. Her enormous metallic-fleshen feet made ten-foot bounds as the others struggled to keep up, but one thing was to their advantage: that for every percent increase in pace a percent less firepower was required to the rear. They moved so fast now, in fact, Dio spoke on behalf of the others in demanding she bring them up like Peter.


    Anya complied. There was no more enemy to the rear, not when they outran even the fastest Imperial dog in the good-boy quest of tearing out every throat on the other side of the field. Many would die, but not here. Most would be clubbed to death, but not now. They had been bred for a single purpose. They would die with it in mind. But not until their master told them so.


    And Anya wasn¡¯t a dog. They would escape and best their fate, she knew. It was easy to see this truth as the bodies fell like water parting before the endlessly fast strides of an Olympic swimmer. Beneath them the sheen of death smiled up at them, a red-white reflection of the gray-yellow beam that produced such endless liquid. Below they saw the endless squirming vessels of Synarchy from the underside. Even if an enemy did approach it they were sure those vessels weren¡¯t just for show and transport. Any one could suck a man dry, and yet they refused to take energy from any of the soldiers now. Perhaps Synarchy was intelligent enough to know that once it started to drain a body it could not be stopped. Perhaps even if the connection was severed the machine would mark the donor as a hostile. Whatever the case it didn¡¯t matter.


    Anya saw the gray metal sliding doors and knew they were free. Free at last to escape this place. Freed at last from the endless gray walls. But perhaps it would have been better to stay inside. At least inside her hopes could have been uncertain. Out here¡­ they were all but lost.

 The Endless Sea of Meat

    The sun had set several hours back, and the overcast sky wouldn¡¯t have allowed her to see it even if it was still there. There were three moons on this world, but all were gone tonight. There was only the world as seen through sterile floodlights, but where ordinarily one could expect to see grass there was none. Where in the distance one could imagine tall buildings erected out of immense progress in the economy and in material science, there was nothing. There was no fog, but the black night obscured everything outside of the floodlights¡¯ few hundred foot radius. But even still, Anya knew that what she saw did not span a few hundred feet.


    As Synarchy blew through the corrugated metal doors she had shut not even a few hours prior, what they saw outside was unrecognizable. Body after body after body stripped of its skin in all directions. There was no gap to see beneath, only a shining red-white sea of faces without lips that showed the permanent smiles of unobscured bloody teeth that ran red with the fluids released by exposed muscle not designed to see air. There was no sound or smell from them, but the color also did not fade. Instead Anya had the grace to see them in their full mince-meat glory. Row after row after row forever in all directions now all moving their heads to look at the flesh mech that had burst outside to their greeting.


    It was disorienting to watch them step forward in chaos, swirling toward the grinder that tore ever-still forward in their midst. Row after row rendered boneless and squished into paste. Row after row of fresh meat to fill the gaps without end. All smiling in the face of slaughter. All silent as their bones turned at first to mulch and then to milk stained red and pink with destroyed vital organs and oh so much blood.


    It was sweet to feel the wind on her face, but with it came the first smell these creatures had produced, perhaps unleashed from the filtered air they had come to appreciate inside. It was blood, of course, harsh and overwhelming on the nose. There was no smell of rot, only blood and blood and blood, and likewise there was nothing to see but red-white bodies and red-white paste extending evermore into the darkness.


    It was at this moment Anya finally realized that even fourteen pills may not be enough. The other soldiers did not speak, perhaps out of fear of disturbing her concentration amongst the silence and wet squishing noises that reminded them all that this situation wasn¡¯t a dream. It was real and they were there. If there was a hell, this was it. If God had ever existed on this world, he had abandoned them now.


    Where was the love and mercy in endless civilians converted to skinless monsters? In being processed into hamburger and left to rot above a field of what should have been grass now replaced with an endless amount of their own flesh and viscera? And yet Anya¡¯s hands couldn¡¯t help but tremble. The feeling wasn¡¯t so much the fear she had expected¡ª though it was certainly there, buried amidst the chaos and freshness of the situation¡ª but more an overwhelming fervor to kill and an excitement to see just how far she could push into this expanse without giving out. If she was to die, and she would, then there was only one thing to do as a soldier. Kill.


    She gave the order to everyone on the back with her:


    ¡°Kill.¡± And they knew exactly what it implied. They were in hell and this was to be an endless slaughter. Even still they were soldiers. Even still their job held only one meaning.


    To kill.


    And yet Peter objected.


    ¡°We should save ourselves for when you can¡¯t keep going.¡± He spoke at normal volume, the sound of bone melting and flesh squishing being a surprisingly quiet backdrop.


    What did he mean ¡°save themselves?¡± Anya thought. There was nothing left to save.


    ¡°We¡¯ll keep pushing with you on our backs if we have to, but we have to escape to the city, climb a building if we have to. If we can just survive until the reinforcements arrive¡ª¡± he continued.


    ¡°Look at this!¡± Anya screamed. ¡°There won¡¯t be reinforcements!¡± Her mania was clear.


    ¡°Even if we do survive,¡± Lululu reminded them, ¡°midnight approaches.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t honestly believe that do you?¡± Jes¨²s objected. It was a ridiculous idea, that the sun would go out. And even if it did, what did it matter now when it was already night?


    Lululululu didn¡¯t respond, opting instead to allow the endless squishing of bodies to fill the silence. What did it matter if the sun rose again if they wouldn¡¯t see it either way? Perhaps there would be reinforcements, but they had no way of knowing how far this sea of bodies stretched, nor even if they were the only location experiencing this old-style of warfare.


    Endless bodies made their way to the grinder, already stripped of themselves. Their appearance didn¡¯t even pretend to be able to sustain itself after the battle was over. They would die here and now or they would die to the elements or disease. There was no survival without skin, even in a mild climate such as theirs. Even the cool night air should have been slowing them down if not for their clear magical origin.


    But Anya didn¡¯t care about all that, not anymore. There was only the melting of bones and endless gory steps of Synarchy to extend the pink river that flowed from behind them far away into the base. The floodlights had faded now, and there was not even a single moon to shine. Even still, Synarchy¡¯s writhing vessels extended with light to showcase the scene it had crafted for some ten or twenty feet around. A pink river shone with endless meat to all sides of their vessel. Endless smiling teeth from skinless mouths greeted them even now, knowing their fate to come.


    But body after body greeted her and the mania to kill found itself ever-more sated. Ten necrites killed, twenty necrites killed, fifty necrites killed¡ª at that stage it was reasonable to crave more to slaughter. One hundred necrites killed, one thousand, ten thousand¡ª at this point it didn¡¯t matter anymore. Twenty thousand, thirty thousand, forty thousand¡ª Anya had no awareness of how many had died now. Was it in the hundreds? Thousands? Tens of thousands? They all fell effortlessly. It was the ideal battleground for a bloodcrazed mania, and yet what did it even mean to crush so many bodies? A thousand thousand thousand more would take the place of every one to fall. It was an endless slaughter to satiate the ravenous thirst for blood, but as a human and as a mortal soldier Anya could only kill so many hostiles.


    As Synarchy continued to press forward, Anya grew tired. It was perhaps ten or eleven o¡¯clock when their usual turn-in time was seven or eight. She had been going for some fifteen or sixteen hours straight, training and killing and doing her best to carry on a numb routine. Even amidst the glorious slaughter she had so craved it had turned into a nothing. She held the trigger and Synarchy carried on. A yellow-wrapped gray beam fired almost without input, and yet as she began to stare at its reflection in the pink mud beneath and behind them she noticed it felt almost detached. There was no effort in blowing the endless bodies away from life. At first this cannon had made even her bones ache, but now?


    There was only the endless slaughter. Anya looked at her pale hand gripping Synarchy¡¯s single trigger-vein that wrapped around her arm now. It had always been pale, but was it always white?


    Peter put a gun to her head, but she knew that didn¡¯t mean anything. His other hand carried the real danger, and even that was meaningless.


    ¡°You¡¯re making a mistake.¡± She said calmly.


    His voice did not waiver. ¡°No, I¡¯m not.¡± There was no guillotine-scythe ready to detach his head from the shoulders for disrupting chain of command. In this he had confidence the Imperial Mandate had left her. And yet she retained command of Synarchy. It made no sense, but even still he had no choice.


    Anya followed the outline of her skin up the arm and found it the same shade all the way to its Prussian blue covering at the sleeve.


    ¡°Do you even think a bullet will harm me now?¡± She could react to a gunshot far before it breached the first layer of skin.


    ¡°No, but fire will.¡± He answered.


    ¡°Then why haven¡¯t you burned me already?¡± She said, mocking his indecision.This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    ¡°Because you¡¯re still carrying us forward, but I have to be ready for when that stops.¡±


    ¡°And when it doesn¡¯t?¡±


    ¡°...¡±


    Anya heard a gunshot, but didn¡¯t react. The sound had not come from behind her head, and the sensation on her skin wasn¡¯t that of compressed bone piercing the outer layer of hair in preparation to expose the brain within. Rather, she felt blood run down her neck and Peter¡¯s corpse slump against her. The weight of his lifeless body was surprisingly light, almost weightless even, though perhaps that was the result of her own present strength.


    ¡°Fuck you!¡± Luther shouted in a broken voice. Peter had judged the color of a person¡¯s skin for the last time.


    No one objected to the killing. Peter had put a gun to Charon and wanted to throw them all overboard this vessel carrying them through the depths of hell. The ferryman¡¯s cloak had slipped and Peter wanted to kill him because his bones were on display. It was only expected that he himself would be thrown overboard instead, relieving the weight from Anya¡¯s shoulders and affirming Luther¡¯s decision to kill the man who had prematurely killed their commander on speculation alone.


    Anya did not thank them, nor did she expect thanks; their safe deliverance would be enough. But the minutes wore on in agony as the pain of deliverance made itself known. So what if she had been granted the strength of fourteen pills? It meant little when the weapon Anya had to operate was an ancient relic created to be among the mightiest weapons of a world-spanning empire. Such world-class war-defining power necessitated world-class unmatched strength as the starting line to using it, and world-class endurance for every second spent in the full-tilt rowing required to keep the death vessel going.


    She could kill and kill and kill but even in her fervor Anya knew she couldn¡¯t keep going forever. The bodies of the dead kept climbing. It had to be in the tens of thousands now, but how many more were left to come? The smiling bare teeth of the skinless continued to exist outside Synarchy¡¯s missing walls. No matter how many steps they took, the scenery was always the same: a pink river of blood and melted bone to the rear with the endless fuel for its continuance on all sides. They couldn¡¯t go on forever.


    But Anya wouldn¡¯t give up. Even if they had Judgement, she wouldn¡¯t use it. They had an alternative hope, however strained. In her role as commander, Anya had the power to wield Synarchy, but in that same role she should have the power to delegate her own authority in the same way it had been given to her by Raethor. In death, someone else would be able to take the helm.


    But Lululu had other ideas, so Anya listened to them. ¡°By the power vested in me I command you: lead.¡± The words were directed at Yuna, and in saying them Anya knew the effort was successful, as her head grew light and her vision blurry. It was a fast second before she lost consciousness, but a very, very, very long one for Yuna, who¡¯s heart had raised some 150 bpm in the act of taking control of Synarchy. The platform lurched and Jessica nearly fell off, having been half-asleep in delirium.


    Anya woke up a day later, but it hadn¡¯t been a day. Her head was in Alissa¡¯s lap, who was gently stroking her hair. Anya sat up quickly and noted the bleach-white strands fall over her shoulders. She looked down at her hands and they were the same shade. Everything beneath her clothes had been stripped. She opened her mouth, but Alissa told her it was the same color as everything else. Even her teeth had been given free whitening strips¡ª the kind that turned them denser and more opaque on top of totally obliterating all their stains.


    Anya almost felt like she could fly, but in taking the leap of faith necessary to achieve that end she would almost certainly die. Their surroundings had not changed in¡­


    ¡°How long has it been?¡± she asked, yawning and wiping grime from her eyes.


    ¡°Thirty minutes or so.¡± Dio answered. Even the grime was white. She looked at Alissa¡¯s lap, but it was not bleached.


    ¡°How¡¯s Yuna doing?¡± Anya began, but soon realized Yuna was no longer at the helm.


    ¡°I¡¯m ok.¡± she said meekly. It was clearly taxing for her.


    Chris began to speak. ¡°It¡¯s unbelievable¡­ that¡­ you... could go on for so long.¡±


    Normally his voice was distant and emanated from all directions like some kind of magic god. Now it sounded like angry bees two inches from her ear. Anya reflexively moved her hands to cover them, but he stopped talking and his shoulders slumped. It was clear he didn¡¯t want to irritate them.


    Anya dragged Yuna by the shoulders over to Alissa, putting Yuna on her own lap and sitting back to back with the one who had comforted her. Yuna didn¡¯t object, though lightly slapped Anya¡¯s hand when she went to pet her hair.


    ¡°Where are you going to go after this is over?¡± She asked no one in particular, but only Alissa and Yuna were within earshot of her quiet voice anyway. And Alex, she supposed, but he was sitting off some distance to the side with his legs overboard, swinging. He didn¡¯t seem to be listening.


    ¡°Somewhere warm and peaceful. The Holy Lands maybe. I hear the beaches there are nice.¡±


    Anya pictured the little shards of glass and bone. It was true they felt nice running between your toes, but she could hardly call the mixture sand, even if that was what it felt like.


    ¡°The water isn¡¯t very clear.¡± Anya objected¡ª it was choked in debris.


    ¡°Tropical Lilitor then.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s so pretty.¡± Yuna said. ¡°The churches and old construction have such intricate carvings, and they¡¯re right on the ocean too!¡±


    ¡°You know they glazed them with treated wax to prevent the sea breeze from causing damage.¡± Alissa went on.


    ¡°And cast spells on them every fifteen years to seal any worn spots and mend the cracks caused by age.¡± Yuna didn¡¯t miss a beat.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t we go there together!¡± Anya proposed. It wasn¡¯t such a bad place. It had been spared from the Tribulation Wars thanks to its insignificant resources and minimal political importance.


    ¡°Yeah!¡± Alissa shouted. Alex looked over, but Yuna said nothing.


    ¡°Yuna?¡± Anya asked. She said nothing.


    ¡°Yuuunna!¡± Alissa continued.


    ¡°I can¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡± Alissa asked.


    ¡°I just can¡¯t.¡±


    Yuna turned her head away from Anya.


    ¡°The political climate there isn¡¯t like it used to be. They¡¯re not restricting visitors from the empire anymore.¡± Anya said, head tilted over Yuna¡¯s ear.


    ¡°It¡¯s not about that¡­¡± she mumbled.


    ¡°Then what is it about?¡± Alissa questioned to no response.


    ¡°Change of subject!¡± Anya semi-shouted no louder than an army whisper (standard speaking voice), her voice still not having recovered.


    ¡°Just let me rest.¡± Yuna interrupted.


    Anya complied. They¡¯d pried too closely to her secrets, though Anya could take a guess at what they were; it would be better if she didn¡¯t. So they sat in silence until Anya¡¯s legs went numb. Yuna had fallen asleep, her breathing having grown regular and deep, so Anya gently began to reposition her to the skinless bloodless ground. Alissa, however, offered to take over.


    ¡°Thanks.¡± Anya was grateful. Alissa smiled back. Her pink eyes were adorable but radiated maternal warmth.


    Anya stood and turned to Lulululu and Chris. ¡°How much longer can we last?¡±


    ¡°Chris is about to give out and I¡¯m not sure I can take over.¡± Lululululu answered plainly.


    ¡°What do you mean you can¡¯t take over?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not what I said. It¡¯s just¡­ I¡¯m not suited to this kind of magic.¡±


    ¡°But you¡¯re the all-powerful Lulululululu!¡± Anya teased. ¡°You can do anything!¡±


    Lulululululululululululululu laughed softly.


    ¡°I made that name up. I¡¯m not any more special than anyone else.¡±


    ¡°Well I assumed so. What kind of mother would name their daughter that?¡±


    She stared off into space for a second, remembering her own mother or lack of mother Anya guessed.


    ¡°Anyway I¡¯m more of a support-type. I can see and feel the power in the air, but my specialty is to redirect it. You can do many things with other people¡¯s power, things few would suspect, but there¡¯s only so much you can do on your own in this position. I can make bullets faster and have them travel farther, and neither Chris nor Luther have missed a shot today, but powering Synarchy? I¡¯m not meant for that.¡±


    ¡°Besides, none of you would have made it this long without me!¡± His eyes weren''t visible, but Anya was sure Chris would be bugging out hearing that.


    Anya looked around for someone to take over next. Dio¡­ Alex¡­ Henry¡­ Jes¨²s¡­ Will¡­ Jessica.


    They were doomed.


    ¡°How much longer do we have until midnight?¡±


    ¡°An hour, give or take a few minutes, but it¡¯s hard to tell out here. I¡¯m relying on the feel of the air.¡±


    ¡°And what does the air feel like?¡± Anya questioned, but she knew. It felt like burning razors.


    ¡°If normally the empire feels like cool flowing strength, now it feels hot and tumultuous. Like something¡¯s aflame within and preparing to erupt.¡±


    ¡°And the sun¡¯s going to go out?¡± Anya was almost mocking before, but she still didn¡¯t believe it now.


    ¡°It¡¯s a metaphor. You know, like how if I told you about¡­¡± she waved her hands around madly, ¡°this situation you wouldn¡¯t have believed in plain words.¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯re saying it¡¯ll be like this, but bigger?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯ll be like the sun went out.¡±


    Fair enough, but it wasn¡¯t looking likely they¡¯d be able to see this mythical loss of the sun. Even if the words were true so what? The sun goes out and you die. That¡¯s the end. There¡¯s nothing to do in such a moment. The sun goes out and you die. You watch the light dwindle and then you freeze to death or starve. In many ways it was better to die than to live and see it.

 Judgement

    But life is long, and the seconds continued to pass until they turned to minutes. The minutes did not form an hour, instead Chris gave way and their choices became intolerable. Did they grant authority to someone else and let them try to power Synarchy? If the effort failed the platform would go into uncontrolled shutdown and they¡¯d likely be flung off, or perhaps fall off without being able to coordinate easily. Anya could try to put herself back into that bloodthirsty state of mind, but it had slipped away almost without seeing it. It would be difficult to reenter and taxing to maintain. Worse, Anya herself was still exhausted¡ª doing better, but she¡¯d be capable of running the platform some five minutes at best. Lululu had been helping them all along, so while she claimed to be able to pilot the vessel it seemed like she was probably more tired than she was letting on.


    It could have been possible for Synarchy to consume the dead necrites, but given the platform was already mostly autonomous if it was capable of doing that it likely already was. Anya had paid attention mostly to herself and the overwhelming strain of pushing forward and the thoughts of death that came alongside it, and it was likely the others were doing the same. One thing was certain: it was unlikely Synarchy could be maintained any longer. The others, though perfectly talented soldiers, would be unable to channel the ambient magic power required to power such a large platform. Therefore the only thing to do was let Synarchy power down face-forward, or perhaps to jump with as much force as it could exert to throw them forward.


    This last last option was enticing, but ultimately if Chris was already tired it would be inadvisable to exhaust him all the way. If Yuna and herself were any example, Chris would be dead weight already. Making him go to the brink would simply make him dead. It would also make any attempt to control their trajectory difficult or impossible.


    ¡°Put us down, Chris. You¡¯ve done enough.¡±


    It wouldn¡¯t be unreasonable to yell at your commander ordering you to die. You might break decorum, but at that point who cares? With the end of your life forthcoming there¡¯s no further purpose in maintaining a reputation. It¡¯s all going to end soon anyway. Heroic or villainous, the lives of soldiers were always told in the history books from the perspective of command.


    ¡°Mutinous soldiers rebel and entire squad is wiped out.¡±


    ¡°Honorable soldiers capture the line.¡±


    ¡°Yesterday¡¯s line was recaptured by the brutal enemy terrorists in a deadly assault.¡±


    It didn¡¯t make a difference in the end, however you received your orders. You¡¯d be dead and whatever headline you generated wouldn¡¯t even be a footnote. Even in the grand battles to decide wars it was always ¡°Emperor¡¯s Conquest is Successful: Peace Treaty Declared.¡±


    And when even the commander was surrounded there would be no record of what transpired in the moments before the end. Not even a ¡°artillery shells pound east encampment, soldiers shocked and terrorized by shrapnel.¡± The best you could hope for was ¡°a number of soldiers were lost in the assault.¡±


    There¡¯d be no mention of your name. Your face would probably be pulverised, and the sight and smell of your own bloody flesh would be erased the moment the lights went out upstairs.


    Even still, Anya¡¯s soldiers accepted their fate. From the moment they had come outside it was clear what would happen next. Some had held out hope they would find buildings off somewhere in the distance, but after more than an hour in the darkness with nothing but bloody smiling demons on all sides there was no hope left of salvation. Where the buildings had gone was immaterial; all that mattered was that they weren¡¯t there.


    And so Chris let the platform down slowly as they greeted death and its many smiles. Jes¨²s yelled as his heavy weapons began to fire. Dio shouted louder. Alex shouted too. Yuna and Anya and Chris and Lululu said nothing, even as they all began to fire. Explosions and flesh grenades tore holes in reality and made it seem like the world was ending. Thousands of bodies flew up at the magnitude of their gravitas, but there were more on all sides. They pressed forward but there wasn¡¯t any meaning in the act. They used every weapon at their disposal, but for all their guns and ammunition these weapons were not enough¡ª Synarchy hadn¡¯t been enough.


    Anya took out Judgement and eyed the other members of her squad. Her right hand continued to alternate fire between standard rounds and rockets, but there wasn¡¯t any meaning in the effort. Only the left hand held any hope of survival, but she¡¯d sworn on the Emperor¡¯s name she wouldn¡¯t needlessly kill her own soldiers.


    But the minutes passed as blood rained from the sky in great torrents as they made their way forward from the head of the liquid bone river. It made no difference how many bodies fell, nor how red the great swelling tide of blood beneath their feet became as the liquid bone fell further behind. Her boots were soaked through to the ankle, and yet in every step Anya knew her skin had not been stained. The same could not be said about the others.


    Jessica was the first to fall. She had been fighting near Dio and Will, but when he ran out of supplies they no longer had enough means to halt the swelling tide of flesh. Anya was stretched to all directions, and Lululu was augmenting every shot fired, but Anya was exhausted and Lululululu had nothing left. They were at the end and they all knew it.


    Jessica¡¯s carotid artery was severed in the first of many bites by lipless teeth, and Anya didn¡¯t even have the mercy of granting her death. There were no bullets to spare. She did kill the necrite biting Jessica, but it meant very little and may have even been an act of malice if you thought about it for a second. But Anya didn¡¯t have a second. The necrite was on top of Jessica and she killed it.


    Now Jessica had the great pleasure of experiencing what it was like to bleed to death. Her pulse quicked rapidly as the heart sensed a rapid drop in blood pressure, but all it did was make her die faster. It wanted to restore homeostasis, but there was nothing left to maintain. Just a hole in the neck to bleed from: that was all Jessica amounted to now. Her head throbbed with its blood supply severed, and she screamed but it came out muted. She was choking on blood and couldn¡¯t even scream properly.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    No one was there to save her. There was no healer and no supplies. Even if they did have supplies it wouldn¡¯t have mattered. They were all so focused on holding the line. Even just one more second. Even just one more instant.


    But Jessica would not be the last to fall. Jes¨²s stuck to his ways to the very end, and though the night was very dark the necrites closest to their group were illuminated by gunfire and a floating orb Anya guessed Lululu had placed above them some time back. Consequently, when the necrites closed enough distance to be unilluminated, he continued to fire off in the distance at the black ones obscured by night. How this guy possibly made it through basic training was beyond her.


    The necrites tore through his neck with their hands, though they didn¡¯t have fingernails to ease the process. It was more like they ripped out his windpipe than any kind of scratching motion. Jes¨²s, at least, had the mercy of losing both his carotids at once, though Anya didn¡¯t know if that was better or worse than drowning in his blood. With no oxygen left coming into his brain, he¡¯d pass out much faster than Jessica had, though Anya had no chance to confirm how long either of them lasted. He was quickly left behind in the dark and oh so very black night.


    The unit continued to step forward, leaving Jessica and Jes¨²s to their fate. They all knew it was coming for them eventually.


    ¡°Just use the box!¡± Henry shouted.


    ¡°Do it!¡± Alex also yelled.


    Anya was in the center of their formation with Lululu at her side. When she looked over to the pink-haired 27-year-old pixie Anya saw the eyes of an old woman accepting death. 27 years was a short life, but for a soldier¡­ Well, there was a reason few people took a willing post.


    Anya ran her right hand along the smooth mirror-polished surface that reflected her white flesh. There was only one imperfection along its six sides: a button at the top. Its action was smooth, and Anya almost didn¡¯t realize the button had been pressed until Judgement clicked in a sound almost like Chris¡¯ voice. Outside of time. Outside of space. Outside this world. It was on a different channel than everything else, and could be heard above all the carnage.


    Everything in the world stopped for just a moment as Anya watched judgement unfold on those who stood beside her. First she watched every smiling skinless necrite stop and begin to jitter in place as though chained from all directions. They began to distort. Flesh folded into flesh as their mouths collapsed in on themselves much as their cheeks had under Synarchy¡¯s influence. Unlike with Synarchy, not only the bones had begun to collapse in on themselves, unshackled from gravity and bound to the new iron-clad law of death. Every segment of the body unfolded and shattered in on itself as though rendered some paper-mache puppet in the jaws of a meat grinder. There was no blood as they fell in on themselves, even if it looked like their entire bodies should have been mulched. Certainly they lost all structure in this process, and when they fell into the many holes in space that formed most prominently at the body¡¯s center and face and just below the hip it seemed as though there was nothing to them at all. All weight and structure had collapsed.


    And then everything the bodies were was gone. For a thousand feet to all sides there was nothing but blood and trampled grass and darkness.


    Finally Anya looked back at her comrades, whom she hadn¡¯t been able to watch die. Dio and Henry were the first to go. She didn¡¯t want to imagine their deaths.


    Lululu threw her arms around Anya and looked up at her with a smile.


    ¡°I want you to know I looked up to you. I really did. For all our differences you made a good commander. I hope you make it out alive.¡±


    Anya began to sob uncontrollably as the necrites closed in. They hadn¡¯t moved even a foot after she pushed the button, and Alex had fallen to his knees.


    ¡°Goddamn this fucking world!¡± he screamed until his voice couldn¡¯t take it anymore. Chris silently patted him on the shoulder as if to say, ¡°It could have been worse.¡±


    Alissa was alone and faced away from the rest of them, but from the rising and falling of her shoulders Anya knew that she, too, was crying. Anya made a head-motion to Yuna to go comfort Alissa, but Yuna had already started doing that. She didn¡¯t want to watch Alissa cry alone any more than Anya did.


    When the necrites came Anya almost hesitated to push the button a second time, but Lululu looked her in the eyes and pushed down Anya¡¯s hand. If anyone was going to survive, it had to be Anya. Lululu hadn¡¯t told her, but Judgement wasn¡¯t simply usable by anyone granted the Mandate of Command¡ª it required a level of strength most simply didn¡¯t possess. More than that, Judgement was a peculiar weapon. It could kill a thousand thousand foes in one heartbeat, but how much power it took away from the user varied greatly based on how in sync they were with the Mandate itself.


    Its power was a judgement of how closely your beliefs and opinions aligned to those around you, but the mode of power wasn¡¯t any different. The user would kill anyone sufficiently antagonistic to their beliefs, yes, but judgement wasn¡¯t special. There was no magic bullet that could kill all of your enemies using nothing but the power contained within you. If such a thing existed there would be no reason for it to target those nominally aligned with you. No, Judgement was not powered from within. It used the ambient magic of the air to power itself, and this meant the closer in alignment the user was to the air, the less power it would take away to correct this difference in killing one¡¯s enemies.


    Lululu had confidence Anya would live because she didn¡¯t even seem to register that Judgement had any draining affect at all.


    Lululu smiled as tears ran down her face, but took her hands off of Anya as they began falling in on themselves. It seemed she was close enough to Anya that she could still move somewhat as the process began. But, as Lulululu was keenly aware, Judgement had the effect of making all your allies into enemies. It wasn¡¯t because you suddenly became hostile to each other, but rather because one would start to question how someone could use such a weapon, and if the terrifying effect of being smashed into a point all across your body would happen to you.


    And it would, because it was impossible to trust that it wouldn¡¯t. So the weapon was locked away. But now Lululu got to experience it first hand. Her legs began to fold up on themselves as though rolling a rope for storage. Her jaw broke in all the agony that would normally entail as her head lost all structure and began collapsing in on itself toward the neck. Everything in the abdomen area closed toward the stomach right above the navel. Every nerve screamed in agony, but the one saving grace of Judgement was that it meant the brain was quickly destroyed as it fell out of reality. And though what Lululu felt was the pinnacle of agony, at least it was over fast.

 She Pushed the Button Again

    Anya was left alone.


    All around there was nothing but blood in the grass. Even the necrites had abandoned her. They would return soon, she knew, but in this moment the world had grown dark and empty. There was nothing and no one around to comfort her. There was only death hanging above her head by a thread and the absent hope of a savior from on high. No one was coming and their weapons were useless. Only Judgement held any chance of halting the necrite advance, but in so doing Anya had killed every one of her allies.


    The world was dark alone. Lululu¡¯s orb of light had faded with her death, and now there was not even a single moon to illuminate her in the darkness. Her eyes adjusted to the soft glow of her white skin, but almost nothing was visible, and what was had become oh so gray. The blood at her feet was still visibly red, but closer to the pink mixture it had formed when mixed with melted bone than to what should have been pumping through the necrite horde¡¯s veins.


    She knew what it meant, this missing color. It meant midnight was rapidly approaching and she had some thirty minutes or an hour left until it came to pass. One thing had become clear: it would strip this world and leave it bare, and then¡­ who knew? Anya certainly didn¡¯t, but it would be like the sun went out.


    She laughed as tears began streaming from her eyes.


    ¡°It¡¯ll be like the sun went out!?¡±


    ¡°The whole fucking world is already dead to me.¡±Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    ¡°All my friends are dead! All my family is dead! All my fucking hopes are dead and no one¡¯s coming to help me!¡± She pulled a knife from her boot and stabbed herself in the thigh.


    Even the knife bent before her, broken, sobbing. Its steel could not withstand her new flesh, and her new flesh could not withstand this temperament in blood. She threw it to the wind and continued crying with laughter as the necrite horde approached for the second? Third? Fourth? Fifty-fucking-eigth time. It didn¡¯t matter. They arrived and she screamed and pushed the button and they died. It was all a big joke. A game. Everything her life stood to represent: glory, honor, protection. It was all lost. They had no glory in this battle. There wasn¡¯t even a chance to win. Not now, not at the start, not ever. They had been damned to hell before the unconquerable battle even began as some kind of divine sadism or punishment for the soldiers predestined to fall.


    Punishment for what? She didn¡¯t know and it didn¡¯t matter. As the seconds ticked away in eternity you could be reborn a thousand times out of the brain¡¯s limited capacity to store information. Anya didn¡¯t know how many times it could have happened, or how many personalities she¡¯d gained or lost. It didn¡¯t matter what interpretation of the situation she went with at this point. No matter the spirituality and no matter the many varieties of interpretation, one thing was clear:


    Hell was real and Anya was there.


    She pushed the button and continued living. The necrites did not.


    Why did God give her such vain hopes? The act of pushing a button to kill all her enemies meant nothing against the infinite onslaught. She knew no such thing was possible by manly power, and yet though her enemies should have long been exhausted and unable to keep creating so many skinless bodies¡ª they kept coming.


    She pushed the button again.


    It was clear this power was not something that could be resisted. So many guns and ammunition and for what? They had spent such time and effort to collect them all and it did them as much good as a strapon in a gay male whorehouse.


    The sky continued to darken. Anya pushed the button again.

 To Die Before The Black Sun

    From above the sun returned in vibrance to light all scenery at once, but it did not bathe the world in glorious white light. No, indeed the sun had been destroyed and in its place was a void. The thing of absence radiated black rays of sunlight that in an instant completed the transformation of the world to black and white and beyond this point to its natural inversion. What was red became cyan and what was green became magenta and what was blue became yellow. All the world clashed in vibrant glory as its saturation returned to full and reverse. The magenta grass blew with a still wind beneath the yellow-white sky illuminated by a black sun that radiated not warmth but coldness. Anya¡¯s white skin began to chill and she shivered, moving her arms to tightly bundle the torso beneath its torn peach-colored coat.


    There was no God that came down to explain what this world would contain. There was only the smell of blood and burning flesh as Anya continued to push the button at intervals. Under the light of this inverted star she felt invigorated, as though she could kill God.


    He deserved it, the bastard.


    She walked through the empty fields of gently-blown magenta grass and they were soft on her jackboot¡¯s leather skin. In the distance, buildings were visible, and yet they had never arrived. She almost doubted her own ability to traverse them, but in time they loomed as large as the skyscrapers they were before her. Dozens of stories of blue-black bone once hardened by the sun had become stilted and appeared to be melting away. Their once solid bricks had become soft to the touch as Anya ran her hands along their surface. It almost seemed as though a stiff breeze would destroy this monument to man¡¯s hubris. To think they could build something to withstand this black sun? What vainglory.


    She waltzed the blue-black streets dotted with various refuse of all shades and came upon nothing and no one. There were no bodies and no cars. Where once there were endless carriages powered by the human ingenuity to detach muscle from the worthless and powered by the vigorously-beating hearts of the most virile among them, now there was nothing. They had once covered every surface of the street, and now they were all gone.


    She entered a building. If it collapsed all the better.


    It had once been a shopping mall¡ª the height of human ingenuity¡ª once a collection of exotic spices and the home of the Grand Slavers¡¯ Hall, but now it was reduced to a collection of statues. Beneath the bendy-walls were endless rows of petrified corpses. Some held their hands high to protect themselves from the light. Others held their children tightly in standing and sitting and screaming positions.


    Deep within the pit at the center of this grand mausoleum were the muscular statues of slaves. They looked identical to their masters. One master in particular held a whip in what had clearly once been a striking position. The slave in his rotund front had been cowering, and his arm had been raised. Now the whip was slack.


    She imagined the slave as taking great satisfaction in watching his master die, but couldn¡¯t help but wonder which was more pleasurable: the act of knowing both you and your master would soon perish; or the glorious smile it must certainly have brought to watch your master¡¯s wrist grow limp, his last act of meaningless defiance of fate being rendered as impotent as his lovemaker. She imagined it was the latter, of course, but couldn¡¯t help but wonder which of the slaves had embraced their own death more than the master¡¯s. It must certainly have been a high percentage of females and children. They weren¡¯t on display here, but¡­


    Anya shook her head and perished the thought. They were in the flesh mills, she knew.


    She walked the endless rows of petrified corpses, all charred by the cool rays of black sunlight. To all sides the walls had begun to sag so deeply they seemed ready to fall at any moment. She watched as the first necrites entered the mall. They took no interest in her, instead opting to immediately run to the corpses. She allowed them this small victory in order to see what would happen. Judgement was in her palm as always, at the ready.


    The first bloody skinless corpse found the first charred frozen pillar of ash in the shape of a man and began tearing at it like a barbecue rib. It started with the neck and worked its way down, but did not have the opportunity to finish its meal. Other necrites began tearing at the blackened flesh like ravenous dogs, but soon they began tearing each other apart limb from limb by the jaw. As every hardwood surface found itself soaked in rivers of blood, the first of the necrites began to change into something greater. Its muscle fibers solidified as though they would form a single continuous surface, and they began to whiten, as though the blood that ran out continuously had finally begun to drain its interior. Soon it was a near-perfect mirror image of herself, and in that moment it stopped attacking the others.


    The first of the new beings was a pale white, but not entirely bleached as her own skin was. It still held remnants of color, and its feet were stained entirely red with the blood that poured out of its kin. Indeed, the other necrites continued chewing at the new being¡¯s flesh, but their teeth were ineffective and the new being¡¯s hands were easily able to bisect the others at the torso in a quick spin.


    The new being was disinterested in the others, though this was only visible in its body language, as it had no face. Instead, it came for her. Anya placed her finger on Judgement¡¯s raised smooth surface. It would require nothing but a twitch to blow the new being away. It did not speak and did not attack her. Instead, it simply walked slowly to a point some five feet distant from her side and stood still. It did not move further when questioned but mirrored her movements when she stepped to the side. She allowed it to live as it would be easy to kill as and when necessary.


    Meanwhile, Anya did what must be done. First that was to observe the lack of food in the mall. It had all seemingly been rendered black ash just like the people. Then she left the building and found the tall white walls once deeply stained with ash that had defined all her memories before the life of a soldier. That was to say she found the tall white walls of a flesh mill, once stained with the ashes of the bodies reprocessed inside. It took all her courage and force to break down the double-steel door at its front. Inside were the usual smiling staff, happy even in death. Happy because of death.


    She kicked them and scattered their corpses to the wind. When this building collapsed she wouldn¡¯t spare them the chance of being found intact. Deeper within the foyer was a second double-door. To its side was a memory-style flesh lock, but Anya¡¯s knife had already been broken. She didn¡¯t spare the door her anger. It flew open and let out a loud noise in defiance, but ultimately fell silent as the bricks inside the door showed themselves before her. From behind, a horde of greater necrites followed.


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    Deeper within the building and down the long hall was a converted coal-fired steam plant. It had once been the start of a new age¡­ but that age had never come. Instead they had discovered the new flesh and all it could promise. And so they had built these facilities. Inside were the petrified ashes of children had to transport the many containers between rooms. Detached hearts and nerves and livers needed to be processed quickly. Reattachment required a deft hand, and as childrens¡¯ were small it allowed them to fit inside tight spaces. This included the abdominal cavity, and enabled the use of smaller incisions. Women, then, were used to hold the organs (mostly).


    Inside the many bloated, distended bellies of the blackened pregnant corpses that dotted the room were many organs. Slowly the organs would whiten inside, and as they ripened they would be plucked at intervals right for each purpose. The most worthless scraps were not ripened at all. Instead they served as the beating hearts of the various cars and other infrastructure within the city. Being as there were so many and each one requiring four or five to power itself, it didn¡¯t make sense to use quality parts for such a common purpose. There were only so many to go around, and only so many slaves to tend and be used in the flesh mills.


    The next-most-ripe would be turned into mortar concentrate. Buildings were volume-intensive projects, and while the most expensive among them used pure mortar set into their shape, most used bone for the structural parts and mortar to fill the gaps. In this way the joining material was actually far stronger than the material itself, and gave the buildings additional support that allowed them to withstand forces most older materials couldn¡¯t dream of. Further still, so long as the scaffolding was allowed to hold for the months-long curing process the concentrate would begin transforming the other materials around it, augmenting their nature and slowly changing the building into nothing but mortar itself.


    These buildings, of course, were all affected by the black sun as the people had been, even if the process of their destruction was slowed by their lack of pulse. Anya so wished to destroy everything here before it could be covered by rubble, but it would seem the greater necrites had begun to pour over her from behind. They had no interest in her flesh¡ª rather, they sought to tear open the pregnant stomachs of the women turned to ash. Her finger twitched and Judgement came down. The greater necrites, however, were unaffected by this act and continued a dead-line on the ripened organs.


    There was panic in her heart as she watched them claw open the many bellies of the dead and smash their insides against mouthless faces¡ª bloody entrails absorbed through the skin. It would seem that even without teeth or lips or tongue they could consume¡ª and what was inside had not been charred beyond appetite. Indeed, unlike the statues Anya had already destroyed, it would seem only the outer layer of these women had been turned to ash. Perhaps only their skin. Everything beneath the skin was red and pink and white as it should have been. In fact, it was likely their deaths were from the suffocation induced from their mouths being stitched shut rather than the instant death of a brain turned to ash.


    At this thought and sight Anya began to wretch and heave, but little came out. She hadn¡¯t eaten in many hours, and there was nothing but bile inside her, but even it was the color of her bleached skin. It fell impotently on the ground, unable even to quell the sound of tearing flesh and its smearing against toothlessly closed mouths.


    She had grown up here in this place. The building still haunted her dreams, even as she suppressed every childhood memory that dared surface. It had been a long year in forgetting the last dream. She had been over it¡­ able to forget.


    And now there was only this to remember.


    She had become a soldier to damn these fucks to hell. Grab a gun and kill them all. Shove one up their ass and fiddle with the trigger just to watch them squirm, but now all her tormentors were dead and all those she wanted to save were being pilfered for parts by faceless abominations. Anya forced herself to look at the ashes of those who had replaced her and the open stomachs of those who had grown up to be placed in chains. Had they helped produce the gun she now put to her head?


    BANG.


    Click.


    *clink*


    The smashed bone bullet created by Anya¡¯s nutrients fell to the ground. She sighed deeply with a thousand tears. Even her suicide had been rendered impotent.


    She threw Judgement aside and ran from the building. The dirt was soft beneath the magenta grass outside in her hands as they began to dig into the sky-blue dirt. A thousand necrites stormed into the city beside her, but they didn¡¯t care about her anymore. She had become an invulnerable being of new flesh and becoming the same was their only pursuit. She had been stripped by force of her humanity and made into one of them. Cursed to live past her peers. Cursed to live in a world where all her friends and family had been killed not even by spite or hatred or a will to conquer but by the cold machinations of some archon or another that wished to see the world lose itself forever. For what possible reason could you want to blow out the sun?


    She didn¡¯t know and it didn¡¯t matter. The dirt flew from the pit as it expanded. She did not tire. She did not thirst. Her only physical pursuit was death, but it would be wrong to say it would be by her own hands. Anya had been dead for some time now. Perhaps from the moment David died. Or Raethor. Or Peter and all the rest. Or from long before that inside the ash-stained walls she had slaved away inside. Watching and watching and cutting out and harvesting the organs removed from one body to reprocess to something useful inside another. Perhaps even the painful death of having your organs harvested would have been a kinder fate than to struggle against something so grand and so total in its devastation only to fail by inevitable fate. Anya had always thought it would be better to live and to struggle for change in an impossibly brutal system. She had fought her way to becoming a soldier, even as she knew being someone else¡¯s gun would do nothing about anything at all. And yet she had tried to be a force for change anyway. Now the bodies of her comrades had been left to rot in an open field and the pregnant corpses of those she had sworn to protect had been defiled.


    But it didn¡¯t matter anymore. None of it did. Perhaps her whole country was dead already. Perhaps the whole world was dead already. There was no further purpose in Anya¡¯s life as a soldier, and there was no more humanity left in herself and perhaps the world to protect. She didn¡¯t want to live on in a world where she had been forced by God to cast her humanity aside.


    The pit had grown deep enough to lay in, so she set herself down inside and began piling dirt at first over her feet, then waist, then torso. It would be a shallow grave, but that was ok. There was a rumbling from the distance, perhaps from the buildings of the city having fallen down, but it didn¡¯t matter anymore. The occupants were dead already, it made no difference that their buildings made of hubris had fallen over. This world was cursed, and always already doomed to this end, she finally knew that now.


    Anya¡¯s last words were ¡°If there is a God, I hope he rots in hell.¡±


    When the last of the dirt covered her face she felt great inner peace, as though death was the last thing necessary to cast the turmoil of humanity aside. But there was no great light at the end of a tunnel in her hole, only dirt.

 The First Time Loop

    In place of hellfire was hair of the same color attached to an all-too-familiar face and weight that pressed down in unfamiliar gravity Anya¡¯s legs could not withstand. She fell to her knees in the grass just outside the base, her head still staring at David¡¯s horrified face illuminated by floodlights beneath the still-black sky.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± He yelled.


    She could see the dawning realization on his face that she couldn¡¯t do it anymore.


    ¡°Close the doors!¡±


    But she couldn¡¯t.


    But she had to.


    Her legs forced her upwards in spite of her mind¡¯s inability to process the situation. Once again David¡¯s head was ripped from its neck with spine intact by some disgusting collection of worms and hooks amid a mass of mutilated flesh. His hair was a bloody red, the stump of his neck spraying blood every which way to cover the upper torsos of the beast with yet more, though it of course already had that oozing from every open surface in bountiful supply.


    Her arms forced the doors closed with ease. Her eyes looked them over to check their pallor, but she couldn¡¯t see them. The only thing she could see repeated in her mind was David¡¯s head being ripped off again and again and again. The stump of his neck separated at the left side first, ripping and tearing like fresh bread or perhaps the first miserable cut of a slaughtered pig still struggling to hold onto life. Would this happen every time? Wait. It had happened before?!


    The dawning realization nearly made her break down and scream, but there were more pressing things to be taken care of. If she really was in a time loop as it seemed, then this was a chance to start from fresh. If she really was in a time loop that would mean the opportunity to watch¡­ herself and the others die a thousand times.


    Anya¡¯s legs bounded forward without conscious thought, eyes finally registering that indeed her skin had returned to its prior pale but still human state as the concrete shattered redly with chips of what must have been rust. She did not bother going to the first comms room, as this would delay the overall journey to the primary comms room, where it was clear they needed to gather first. It would delay her by some minutes, but given the situation it would be better to lose a few now than many minutes later.


    Her mind was racing in a thousand thoughts, but for the moment it was hyperfixated on one thing: what to do next. Melissa was the first order of business. She needed to join the others directly, and with Melissa alive Raethor would have no reason to decay. With Raethor alive to command them and Melissa around to help them recover, it would be significantly easier to wield Synarchy. Lulululu would augment Melissa instead of the driver, and Melissa would restore each driver in turn. They may even be able to bring nutrients along both for Synarchy to consume directly and for themselves to replenish their¡ª


    Anya¡¯s stomach grumbled and she almost tripped from the lost concentration. It would seem that even in this timeline her hunger followed her, and in focusing on it Anya realized the hunger felt like death. Not in a metaphorical sense, in the sense she might literally die without a meal. It was an almost supernatural hunger, as though something in her soul had been stolen away and converted to energy. Now her body demanded the nutrients required to replenish such a cost, and to deny it would certainly mean spiritual death. It was a patriotic necessity that she have fifteen cheeseburgers in the next thirty minutes or she and her country would both die.


    Her mouth watered and she wondered if necrites could be eaten as Henry had proposed. Surely they could be fried up with a little butter¡ª no! Better yet they could be deep-fried and eaten like a corndog! More than just blood was dripping on the ground. Her saliva ran thickly though for whatever reason she didn¡¯t thirst. But the thoughts of food had distracted her for long enough to arrive at the closest primary comms room.


    Ordinarily it would be a challenge to open the doors, but Anya punched the skin lock and it kindly opened for her. She didn¡¯t hesitate putting herself into a chair, and the base didn¡¯t hesitate in throwing her living corpse down as it blew out her senses in connecting herself to its nerve without first strapping into one of the two stools in the fifty or hundred by ten or twenty IMPERIAL FREEDOM UNIT room whose every surface was covered in writhing veins and open flesh.


    Her body crumpled to the ground in a heap with the all-consuming pain of the body giving way to something greater than itself. It was a disorienting experience as always to find one¡¯s vision sprawling out beyond what the brain could process. Halls and halls and halls and the dining hall and the cheeseburgers in the cafeteria and the blood covering every visible surface in the Central Command room..?


    Anya¡¯s lips opened on the walls and her eyes covered every surface of the ceiling, but many of them were blinded. The many tongues told her what the thousand eyes confirmed¡ª that the whole surface of the room had been painted red with blood and the floor covered in corpses. Yuna, Luther, Henry, and Yuna were all dead, and Raethor was grievously wounded. Melissa¡¯s tan skin was covered in blood, and her uniform had been stained almost entirely the same color. Her neon blue hair was tied up in a bun as she worked, and her green nails contrasted sharply with the coiled black-white snake tattoos that wrapped her arms. It was as if the snakes¡¯ fangs were ripping Raethor apart. But in fact it was the opposite¡ª her venom was antithetical to death. She was hunched over Raethor, tending to his many gunshot wounds, ranting to herself about how insane the situation was.


    ¡°I swear on my granddaddy¡¯s corpse you¡¯re all sons of whores!¡±


    ¡°What happened here?!¡± Anya¡¯s hundred voices demanded. Melissa did not respond.


    Chris¡¯ voice was already strange to hear from all directions in a single body with two ears, but now his Spartan tone could be heard from all directions through all ears as a kind of overwhelming and internal static.


    ¡°Peter decided Luther couldn¡¯t be trusted and killed him, so I killed Peter and Henry tried to kill me. He failed, but only because Yuna blocked the shot.¡±


    Luther¡¯s corpse was riddled in bullets. It would seem Peter had taken far more than one shot, and Anya had a feeling more than just a little fighting had taken place. The quantity of blood that dripped from the ceiling was far in excess of what four bodies could produce.


    ¡°And what happened to Raethor?!¡±


    ¡°He sustained grievous injury deescalating what happened after.¡± Will reported. Jes¨²s, Alex, and Alissa were also in the room, but said nothing. Will and Jes¨²s were across from the siblings, but all shifted their weight in place as if to say the tension hadn¡¯t faded.


    ¡°Hold on, I''ll be right there!¡±


    She ripped the nerves from her arm, having only just inserted them in a single location rush to connect to the base. Blood trailed her every step, but they were not delayed by torpor and hunger. Adrenaline had injected itself deeply within her brain, and taken over all other physical and situational prerogatives. There was to time for other thought only¡ª


    Raethor was dead when Anya arrived at Central. Melissa was still holding the body and it was clear from her face that she was exhausted. Bees whispered in Anya¡¯s ear that she, too, had started coughing up blood, but tried to hide it for Raethor¡¯s sake. Now, like him, she was dying.


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    Anya walked over to Chris and put her hand on his shoulder. He winced, clearly uncomfortable with the physical contact and Anya¡¯s physically imposing presence (being six inches or more taller than him), so she quickly removed her hand. The words were soft.


    ¡°What happened here?¡± The voice said, defeated.


    Chris didn¡¯t answer. Jes¨²s walked up behind Anya with Will in tow. He didn¡¯t place his hand on her shoulder, but almost tried, stopping only because he was also a bit shorter than her and the gesture would have been awkward. Will could have done it, but he wasn¡¯t speaking.


    ¡°You spent too long in the kitchen.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°What he¡¯s trying to say,¡± Will began, but Melissa interrupted.


    ¡°Where the fuck where you? Fondling your rifle tenderly to avoid actually fucking using it!?¡±


    Anya didn¡¯t clean her rifle more often than anyone else.


    ¡°What?¡±


    Melissa wasn¡¯t in shape to speak, but she tried anyway. Will interrupted her.


    ¡°We returned from the other timeline first.¡± He said.


    Anya¡¯s head started spinning and she fell to the ground on one knee.


    ¡°You remember it?¡± She asked weakly.


    ¡°Yes!¡± Jes¨²s began, ¡°Your white skin was living proof of the nature of the master rac¡ª¡±


    ¡°Shut the fuck up Jes¨²s.¡± Melissa shouted. ¡°You¡¯re fucking Hispanic.¡±


    ¡°So¡­ what happened after Judgement? Did anyone else survive?¡± Alex asked, him and his sister having moved over to join the others in working out what had happened in the first iteration of this time loop.


    ¡°No.¡± She guessed he was unable to see the others had been folded in on reality in the same moment he had.


    ¡°I see.¡±


    ¡°I walked into the city and found all the inhabitants burned to ash but left in the shape of statues of people, and on my way the sun rose but it was like it had already gone out. It had turned black and in place of light and warmth there was only coldness. The grass turned pink and the dirt turned sky-color. The sky itself was yellow-white.¡±


    ¡°What color was your skin after the other colors inverted?¡± Jes¨²s asked, anticipation eager in his voice. Anya didn¡¯t answer him, but in doing so he understood implicitly that she was confirming his expected answer.


    ¡°JAJA! THE WHITE RACE¡ª!¡±


    ¡°Shut up, Jes¨²s.¡± Anya demanded. He complied.


    ¡°Where was I?¡± Anya mumbled, distracted.


    ¡°The black sun.¡± Alex answered. ¡°What happened to the necrites?¡±


    ¡°It burned everything but them.¡±


    Their faces hung low. Even the salvation of a ticking clock was only for their own damnation.


    ¡°But you survived!¡± Alissa tried to salvage. Anya gestured at herself and quickly eviscerated this optimism. On the other hand, Anya¡¯s temporary survival implied it was possible to outlive the ticking clock.


    ¡°What killed you?¡± Will asked. Anya didn¡¯t answer. They knew.


    There was a long pause before Anya continued speaking. ¡°The necrites lost interest in me when I entered the city, and they began consuming the statue-people. It turned their flesh white and these greater necrites seemed to be friendly, but they had no mouths or faces. I went to the old flesh mill and tried to stop them, but they¡­ they ate¡­.¡±


    She started sobbing into her hands. They knew and let her cry. The silence was only broken when Anya herself asked the next question.


    ¡°What happened here?¡± She had asked it a thousand times by now.


    Will began to speak. ¡°We woke up at Central and fighting immediately broke out when Peter started shouting about how Luther had betrayed everyone. The shooting was over in an instant, and only stopped because Raethor threw himself into the crossfire to demand it end. If he didn¡¯t have the Imperial Mandate I don¡¯t think it would have. We¡¯re unharmed because it was mostly concentrated, but if it had been allowed to go on much longer none of us would have been spared. I had already drawn my rifle, but hesitated to kill my own comrades.¡±


    ¡°What about you Jes¨²s, did you shoot anyone?¡± Anya¡¯s question was clearly implying Jes¨²s had helped shoot Luther, perhaps even posthumously. He gave a suspicious glance around the room, but


    ¡°I¡¯m hurt you would even ask that.¡± was his answer. She didn¡¯t see any point in antagonizing him when Luther was already dead and she¡¯d be able to ask him directly the next time around¡­


    It was in this moment Anya understood the gravity of the situation. She was trapped in a time loop of some eight hours and it seemed to have compressed this time around. If it continued to compress she might end up with nothing¡ª only the act of dying beneath the black sun and reincarnating in time to die again. But even if she lived long enough to see it, how was she possibly supposed to avert this fate? Knowing something was going to happen was an entirely different matter to stopping it. Knowing a bullet had been fired was an entirely different matter to averting the sensation of being shot. You could watch a finger pull the trigger but if you weren¡¯t fast enough and the bullet was already in the air¡­ Well, you had always and already been shot. There was no act you could take to prevent it, only wait, and this waiting would be over before your body could even process that this always and already was now.


    The lurch was ordinarily not so pronounced. A death sentence was most comparable, waiting in front of the firing line, but those had been abolished some years back because it would damage your internal organs. It was much more efficient to simply harvest them from a living subject, as otherwise you¡¯d have to provide external life support. But it wasn¡¯t like the situation had anything to harvest from them. What good would it possibly do to kill all life? Anya certainly couldn¡¯t think of any. Even if it was a locally-directed country or continent-level spell, she couldn¡¯t see how its range could be limited to anything less than an entirely planetary hemisphere. There were many countries on the other side of the planet, but none of the empires would be spared by such an act. It would be much more efficient to infiltrate and execute the Emperor, but even in thinking that Anya¡¯s chest tightened and her neck tensed. That must have been why infiltration was impossible.


    Still, it didn¡¯t make sense to use a planetary weapon to strike down one empire. Then again, she hadn¡¯t been harmed in her state of new flesh, and neither had the necrites. But as far as she knew her empire was the only place capable of manufacturing the necrosis bomb. As such, it should be impossible for another country to create necrites, even if the bomb had been improved to such a state that the produced beings could live past the rotting of their tongues and sloughing off of their skin. The beings created by the necrosis bomb had been quick to die, and human until the very end. Necrites were clearly supernatural¡­ but the naming was suspiciously similar and Peter had been the one to name them. Was he as such aware of how the necrites were produced? He was also very keen to kill those whose flesh had begun to transition to the white state. Was there any danger in it? Anya herself had been reborn, but her mentality had seemed to stay the same. That wasn¡¯t necessarily true, as one¡¯s perception of one¡¯s own mind was very different to another¡¯s, but at the same time Anya felt like herself in this moment and was judging herself in hindsight. There was no reason to suspect the new flesh made you feel any differently than normal. Yuna had an entire leg replaced and had been a level-headed soldier for years, as had many others.


    But the Most High had also seemed aware of the situation. They had promised salvation but delivered none. Even Synarchy had not been enough. Even Judgement. Had they promised to unlock Pleroma and Colossus? She couldn¡¯t possibly imagine how those weapons would operate, but if they did¡­ well, Colossus had already threatened to doom the world, and Pleroma was on an entirely other level. It may have been on its own plane of existence for how weighty it felt in their world. Yet it felt like it would instantly kill her if Anya touched it. The risk was high, and if she guessed wrong about its nature could lose another hour to the creeping loss of time. The only other option was Colossus.


    ¡°Where have Peter and Lululululu gone?¡±


    The others acknowledged her return to awareness and Chris answered the question with the full vibrance of his Spartan bee-like voice.


    ¡°To find a way out.¡±


    ¡°Have they gone to the heavy-weapons facility?¡± she asked immediately.


    ¡°No.¡± Alex answered quickly. ¡°You¡¯re the commander, remember? They couldn¡¯t turn them on if they tried. Besides, the Most High hasn¡¯t activated them.¡±


    ¡°Fuck.¡± Melissa said weakly. ¡°See you guys on the next one, I¡¯m not going to make it this time around.¡± It had been a dying gasp. How she could possibly remain so calm while dying was beyond Anya, but none of the others even acknowledged her passing. How could they? Why should they? If this really was a time loop as it appeared there was no reason to mourn the dead. Even if it wasn¡¯t, they were soldiers and all of them had already prepared for and conquered death. There was no bridge to the Rubicon they hadn¡¯t already crossed.

 Crossing the Rubicon

    But if it was a time loop, and the conditions to break it were unknown, then there wasn¡¯t any harm in trying the insane and impossible just to see what would happen. Not because there wouldn¡¯t be consequences, but because the forces necessary to establish such total control over reality were such that anything but the most impossible of moonshots would not be able to surmount their odds. As such, Anya commanded they head to heavy weapons.


    ¡°We¡¯re going to power on Colossus.¡±


    There were no words adequate for how insane the idea sounded. They were going to power on the giant death ball that required global cooperation to stop and garnered the fear and distrust necessary to kick-start the First Tribulation? With five people? It was a bad joke, kick-starting infinity with five bodies.


    ¡°Don¡¯t we need to unlock it?¡± Alissa asked from Alex¡¯s arm.


    ¡°No.¡± Anya answered. A few eyebrows were raised, but her proposition was easily understood. If the Most High had granted her authority to unlock the heavy weapons before, then it was likely she could wield them again now. She had gone to ask them before not because it had been obviously necessary, but because she had thought Raethor still possessed the mandate of command and that the others needed to be gathered anyway. It would have been a good opportunity to ask the Most High to unlock the weapons again, and perhaps try to probe them for more information in the process.


    That didn¡¯t seem necessary now so they quickly made their way deeper into the base. Despite the fact some hour or two had passed since the original T0 in which Anya had watched David die, the necrites were nowhere to be seen.


    Anya¡¯s stomach growled and she hunched over for a moment in pain. Will proposed they stop by the cafeteria, but she declined. The timing was precarious enough, if they stopped for food it would become untenable. Will, luckily, had grabbed a few sticks of jerky. Anya ravenously devoured them and their salty flavor settled into her tongue. By the time she had finished the five of them only a second or two had passed, but the hunger remained. Will, unfortunately, had no more food to furnish her. It would have to be enough. She could always try eating the necrites as Will had suggested, but first she imagined she¡¯d need to take on the greater form of her own.


    For that matter, what would happen if she consumed the new flesh stores on the base in that form? The greater necrites had devoured the forges in the old flesh mill, so surely she¡¯d be able to do the same. It was a somewhat sickening thought to consider, but if the forges were already dead then there wasn¡¯t really any moral issue at play. The organs inside them were already ripe, there would be no sense in allowing them to go to waste. On the other hand, they had arrived at heavy weapons. It was almost too easy for Will to open the door and for Anya herself to command Synarchy to rise once more to her service.


    Its open ribcage was once again covered in the reforming of flesh, save for the metal plates that dotted a kind of breastplate. The humanoid legs bundled themselves in thick stripes of muscle, and the bone dish rotten with disuse found itself again covered in skinless bloodless flesh. Writhing vessels formed from the torso and one brought Anya to Synarchy¡¯s top, connecting to the same blood port in her arm she had ripped out the base¡¯s cables from not even thirty minutes prior.


    They had left the doors open, but necrites did not appear. It would seem their timing had been early enough to manage after all. Anya¡¯s hunger demanded a solution but there was nothing to be done. Her stomach growled and her temple began to pound as the body made its displeasure clear.


    She brought the others up to distract herself from the pain and hunger, but it did not help. So she began to speak in the vain effort to distract from it.


    ¡°So¡­¡± Anya began, but in her distracted hunger lost the initiative to Alex, who spoke first.


    ¡°What¡¯s your plan Anya?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s Commander to you, swine!¡± Jes¨²s corrected. Anya imagined bacon would taste amazing right now.


    ¡°No? She hasn¡¯t asked for that and besides, Raethor¡¯s not permanently dead which would make her Commander in Situ.¡±


    ¡°Even still, you have no right to! ¡ª¡±


    ¡°Shut up Jes¨²s.¡± Anya demanded. The attempt to kiss her ass was transparent and pathetic.


    ¡°How did you even pass basic? In the last loop you died because you couldn¡¯t shoot the enemies right in front of your face?¡± Alex continued, bolstered by Anya¡¯s demand for him.


    Jes¨²s looked away, embarrassed, but then Will spoke for him.


    ¡°How indeed.¡± The implication was clear enough.


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    ¡°How are we supposed to survive if Jes¨²s can¡¯t do anything but kill minorities?¡± Alissa added.


    ¡°With Colossus.¡± Alex surmised. He hadn¡¯t objected to their coming here and for good reason. It didn¡¯t matter how strong they were as soldiers or how powerful their weapons were in any given normal situation. Their firepower was enough to take over a small country¡ª Synarchy itself could probably blow through a mid-sized kingdom on its own¡ª but in the context of a grand and glorious empire? Their empire was stronger than anything that had ever come before it, but on a global scale it was one of several of a comparable size. They all strove to create stronger weapons, and their weapons had become so strong from behind closed doors that none of them could afford to display them in plain sight without risk the others would come knocking with countermeasures. Alex was confident their empire would win any war of any scale as it already had in the First and Second Tribulations, but in the Third they had nearly lost. Everything their empire stood for was on the brink of destruction. Their soldiers were pushed many miles from the edges of conquered territory almost to the borders of the empire itself. Only the necrosis bomb had halted the advancing armies, and only the necrosis bomb allowed them to get by with losing recently-conquered territory alone.


    Their empire had been on the precipice of defeat, but only because it had been unwilling to use the weapons stored for the rainy day that was to come. Because no matter how many miles of tributaries you lost, if the heartland was untouched there was always another day to conquer. There was always another land to take and its people¡¯s continued shifting borders and slaughters and tributes would always be there tomorrow.


    But then they had discovered the new flesh, and with it the situation changed. Suddenly it became very advantageous to have such far-flung colonies, and very detrimental to have lost territory in the last war. It was lucky, then, that the empire¡¯s population had swelled from many decades in the proverbial sun. It was so easy for the laws to change, and so easy to produce the kind of radical change that their forefathers could only dream of.


    And yet all things have a cost and it had come time to pay the reaper¡¯s due. Here in this moment Alex knew that the new flesh was not a boon to all mankind: it was a curse. It was a tax on the future to pay yourself in the present, whose cost became more and more steep the longer the burden wore on. But as the empire found itself fording deeper and deeper through the waters of the Rubicon on the inevitable path toward global war, it did not stop to consider the implications of such a technology.


    Here and now, Alex knew that all their technology had failed. There was only the ancient relic designed for the explicit purpose of killing everyone in the world if its master so demanded. All these toys and weapons designed to discriminate between bodies were meaningless when all bodies around were hostile. In such a situation target differentiation was a weakness that could not be afforded.


    They would kill everyone in a hundred miles and perhaps then it would be enough.


    Or perhaps not.


    ¡°Do you think it will work?¡± He finally asked Anya.


    ¡°I think we have to try.¡± She answered weakly.


    ¡°Synarchy wasn¡¯t enough and neither was Judgement. Is there anything else we can do?¡±


    Silence hung heavily over the air for the seconds it took Alissa to grant it courage.


    ¡°We can try again tomorrow! As long as we¡¯re together we can defeat even the sun in the sky!¡±


    Alex pinched his sister¡¯s cheek.


    ¡°Do you really think we can do it?¡±


    ¡°Of course!¡± She pouted. How dare he doubt her?


    ¡°We have the power of the master ra¡ª¡± Jes¨²s began, but Anya stopped him.


    ¡°Jes¨²s, I¡¯m going to strip you of your rank if you don¡¯t shut up.¡±


    ¡°Can you even do that?¡± Will asked. Anya glared at him and he backed down. Jes¨²s said nothing.


    ¡°If you¡¯ll just be an effective soldier I¡¯ll give you a promotion. How about that?¡±


    Again, could she even do that? Will had no idea, but dared not question his commander pro tempore.


    ¡°Anya, he¡¯s insane!¡± Alex questioned hotly.


    ¡°But we need him.¡± She answered bluntly.


    Did they? Alex was pretty sure they didn¡¯t. Colossus was the only weapon they needed, and some racist fuck wasn¡¯t doing anything for their unit. He added precisely zero value and in fact was actively detrimental for being a waste of resources on the line.


    ¡°He¡¯s worse than useless!¡± He objected. Why would she stake their victory on Colossus and then act like Jes¨²s mattered at all to the final outcome?


    ¡°But we need all the soldiers we can get.¡±


    ¡°He shouldn¡¯t have passed basic! Is he even a soldier?¡±


    ¡°Jes¨²s has been here in our unit for years and you¡¯re questioning him now?!¡± Will objected strongly. ¡°He¡¯s every bit as effective as you are, you just have to look past the myopically-close targets you always fire at!¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t shoot blindly at rocks in the distance and call it sniper-fire.¡±


    ¡°Jes¨²s doesn¡¯t shoot at rocks. He¡¯s probably killed twice as many enemies as you!¡±


    ¡°But they may as well have been rocks for all the strategic value there was in shooting them!¡±


    ¡°They were targets. He eliminated them.¡±


    ¡°They were black, not strategically important.¡±


    ¡°Hitting an enemy¡¯s reserves is strategically valuable!¡±


    Alissa interrupted them. ¡°This conversation is ridiculous. Why are you having it?!¡±


    ¡°Enough already.¡± Anya demanded. Perhaps her hunger had gotten the better of her, but what¡¯s said is said and what¡¯s done is done. She didn¡¯t have to follow through on her words if Jes¨²s didn¡¯t help them, she just needed all the help they could get right now.


    Jes¨²s¡¯ thoughts, of course, were elated. ¡°I¡¯m going to kill so many minorities when this is over.¡±


    But how could Anya ever have possibly known that? She was so hungry after all.

 Beyond Flesh

    The necrites began pouring in, their smiling faces a revolting sight. With them a thick fog of redness settled into the air, staining everything but Anya¡¯s skin with the miasma and stench of infinite tides of blood. Anya smiled as her hunger flared. Saliva ran thinly as drool down her chin to the bloodless ground of Synarchy¡¯s top beneath her feet. She knew she couldn¡¯t eat them without poisoning herself, but¡­ had her skin turned white again?


    No.


    She opened the pocket within her coat as Synarchy began taxing the hunger at her core. It would be impossible to sustain it for more than a few seconds in her present state, but her present state wouldn¡¯t last long. She opened her mouth and the pouch produced from within what was once an inviolable sanctum used only sparingly and dumped all fourteen pills down the hatch.


    Her head twitched as every muscle tensed itself. Her subordinates shouted weakly but their meaningless noises were drowned out by the pulsing of Anya¡¯s own blood. Synarchy, too, pulsed with life and with the rage destined to kill everything in sight. Its veins found themselves writhing like oh so many blades in the meat grinder destined to feed something greater than itself. The entire room of a THOUSAND IMPERIAL FEET was covered in the tentacles Anya commanded to bring Colossus food. Synarchy obeyed with joy as it deboned the thousand smiling corpses destined to feed its master as a thousand thousand human nuggets. They were not deep-fried to crispy golden brown, but would suffice as an appetizer.


    Synarchy itself was not really powerable by the necrites, but Colossus was a different matter. The smaller unit was only ever intended to be piloted by a handful of well-trained archons for whom its use would not be particularly problematic and whose effects were well within their own abilities. Synarchy was more of a platform than a weapon to them, useful for creating and closing distance and for managing the loose hordes of lesser foes they couldn¡¯t be bothered to destroy. As such, it didn¡¯t really matter if Synarchy replenished itself on the road. It could, of course, but its many tendrils were much more specialized for movement and distribution of close-range death than consumption.


    Colossus was different entirely. It was a hundred foot lump of flesh that spilled out over the corner of the giant room it had been housed in. ¡°Flesh¡± was almost the wrong word to describe it. The creature was more like a mountain of cables than any kind of human-made weapon. Its bottom began to glow as it infected the room¡¯s already-red atmosphere with an ethereal glow more to the shade of rot than blood.


    And the stench. Oh god the stench! Though the necrites generally smelled like nothing, it seemed Colossus did not have this pleasure. As its bottom-most reaches began powering on, the cable-tendrils had begun flexing, airing themselves out and shedding the old flesh replaced with that of the necrites that would soon be subsumed into the machine, their nature changed to nothing but the machine that would damn the world.


    The minutes passed as Anya felt tapping from behind. There was no sound as her nose was assaulted with vile degradation so foul it would soon have the same eternal ringing and degradation of function her ears had come to possess from all the rifle fire. There was only death as the roof rose overhead, hundreds of feet in the air now. Likewise, all the textured concrete walls had expanded as though themselves flesh like the growing small mountain inside the base of a thousand miles. All this in an attempt to accommodate the growing Colossus inside, but the attempt was clearly to be in vain.


    The creature expanded beyond Anya¡¯s field of view. In all directions there was writhing wormlike flesh flowing to all directions in an unstoppable torrent up and out of the base. The walls had begun to shake as Colossus began pressing against them. Its interior glowed with the dullness of rot and yet it glowed far brighter than even the sun or stars. She could no longer look at the mountain of loose cables whose light had outshone every smiling body pouring ever-still into its expanding maw.


    But soon Synarchy found itself, too, devoured. Alex, Alissa, Jes¨²s, and Will all moved to the back of Synarchy¡¯s ever-shrinking platform toward the sea of necrites beneath them, but it was a brief moment before the rapid expansion of Colossus overtook them all. It would soon grow beyond where the necrites poured into the room, and from that point on would enter an exponential growth phase so long as it expanded more out than up. Even then, Colossus might well have been using less energy to create itself than the individual bodies were providing per unit volume.


    Within the creature Anya¡¯s field of vision faded as she felt every surface of her body innervated with the many cables of nerve, vessel, and sinew that composed Colossus inside and out. The bundles unwound themselves and attempted to pierce her skin, and though it was likely her comrades were innervated inside and out¡ª skewered through all surfaces a tendril could pierce¡ª Anya¡¯s skin could not be broken. As such, Colossus merely attached itself to the surface. Despite this, Anya could feel her nerves connect to the creature¡¯s as though even the surface of her skin carried the necessary pathways to her brain.


    Vision returned from the darkness inside the beast to all sides, but it was more of a vague sense that food was all around and a glow in the direction of highest concentration than any kind of true sight. Smell, too, was muted, as was hearing. All the senses merged into one general sensation to the brain, a kind of glow in the direction of food, and all thoughts from the beast found themselves congealed to the same single and all-directed intention:


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    Hunger.


    Colossus meant to eat every necrite and person in sight, and to keep going until there was nothing more to consume. In this Anya was united with the will of the beast: they would destroy every necrite and this duplicated night would end before the repetitions of a time loop could really make themselves worn on.


    Alex: ¡°This is strange. It¡¯s like I¡¯m floating.¡±


    Alissa: ¡°Alex? Where are you?¡±


    Alex: ¡°Here!¡±


    Alissa: ¡°Where is ¡°here?¡±¡±


    Alex: ¡°Here!¡±


    Anya could feel the generalized direction of the beasts¡¯ many senses point inward to the core.


    Alex: ¡°Anya, are you there?¡±


    Anya: ¡°Yes. Jes¨²s? Will?¡±


    Jes¨²s: ¡°It¡¯s dark. I hate it.¡±


    Will: ¡°I¡¯m here.¡±


    Will: ¡°It¡¯s not so bad Jes¨²s, at least there¡¯s light outside.¡±


    Jes¨²s: ¡°Not enough.¡±


    Anya: ¡°Enough to see where the necrites are.¡±


    Alex: ¡°Is that what those lights are?¡±


    Alex: ¡°Can any of you see anything else?¡±


    Alissa: ¡°Just the red haze.¡±


    Will: ¡°Same here.¡±


    Jes¨²s: ¡°And blackness.¡±


    Alex: ¡°So will we go back to normal on the next loop?¡±


    Alissa: ¡°I hope so. I miss you.¡±


    A picture of hands held tightly together appeared in Anya¡¯s head.


    Jes¨²s: ¡°Ew, stop it. It¡¯s been two seconds.¡±


    Alissa: ¡°Shut up Jes¨²s.¡±


    A picture of a mutilated hand severed at the wrist appeared in Anya¡¯s mind.


    Alissa: ¡°Aaaah! Stop!¡±


    Jes¨²s: ¡°Jajajajaja.¡±


    Alex: ¡°Seriously Jes¨²s, fucking stop.¡±


    Jes¨²s: ¡°Or what?¡±


    Anya: ¡°Or you won¡¯t get a promotion.¡±


    Alex: ¡°You¡¯re still seriously considering that!?¡± The sound of a disembodied sigh followed.


    Anya: ¡°Why not?¡± Unfortunately for her, there was no room to hide intent when your minds were directly connected. She wasn¡¯t really serious about promoting him.


    Jes¨²s: ¡°...¡±


    A picture of a severed head appeared. It was David¡¯s.


    Anya: ¡°Jes¨²s I¡¯m going to kill you if you do that again.¡±


    Jes¨²s: ¡°...¡±


    Will: ¡°Does that even matter if we¡¯re in a time loop?¡±


    Anya: ¡°I¡¯ll demote you too.¡±


    Will: ¡°Can you even do that? Raethor should still technically be the commander even if he¡¯s ¡°dead.¡±¡±


    Alex: ¡°He¡¯s still ¡°dead¡± even if he¡¯s not dead.¡±


    Jes¨²s: ¡°...¡±


    Anya: ¡°Thank you, Jes¨²s.¡±


    It was strange being disembodied like this with her thoughts connected to the others, but almost natural, as though this was the way things always should have been. Colossus was simply the vessel that housed their collective consciousness, and their collective consciousness was always intended to be one unitary entity. It was always supposed to be together as a gestalt inside one body. Anya was always supposed to be above the rest, even as nominally their voices held the same volume. Perhaps it was destiny she alone had been granted the greater new state.


    Will: ¡°Anya you¡¯re not God. We can hear you, you know.¡±


    Anya: ¡°...¡± She could feel her cheeks blush.


    Alissa: ¡°And you¡¯re not any better than the rest of us!¡±


    Anya: ¡°I didn¡¯t mean it like that.¡±


    Alex: ¡°How did you mean it then?¡±


    Jes¨²s: ¡°But she is better than us!¡±


    Anya: ¡°...¡±


    Alex: ¡°No..?¡±


    Jes¨²s didn¡¯t say anything, but the color white flashed inside Anya¡¯s head. It was clear what he was implying.


    Alex: ¡°...How did you mean it then, Anya?¡±


    The picture of white appeared again.


    Anya: ¡°The fact I look like the greater necrites¡­ It means something.¡±


    The color white appeared again, followed by a dying gasp as though someone was choking.


    Alex: ¡°What¡¯s that sound?¡±


    ¡°...¡±


    Alex: ¡°Anya are you killing Jes¨²s?¡±


    Anya: ¡°...¡±


    Alex: ¡°Anya! Are! You! Killing! Jes¨²s!¡±


    Anya: ¡°yes.¡±


    Alex: ¡°How even?¡± He seemed more curious than displeased, unsure of how Anya was skirting the Imperial Mandate.


    Anya: ¡°I may not be God, but I feel like one right now.¡± To Alex, those words read as ¡°Jes¨²s disobeyed me and therefore the Mandate.¡± It still wasn¡¯t clear how Peter had skirted it, but perhaps along logic of the same lines. Did the Mandate have an ability to read intent? Strange.

 Above the Clouds

    As Anya acclimated to being inside Colossus the intricate machinery of cables had revealed itself to her more fully. Below them there was a great expanse of grass covered in a writhing sea of hairless skinless necrites and the pooling blood of their continual consumption expanding to all sides. For every necrite consumed they seemed to grow some inch in size all around, and by the time Anya could finally ¡°see¡± more than just the red haze of morsels to devour the tip of Colossus had almost already breached the clouds. Still, to all sides there were more necrites, and though her vision was not capable of seeing in full detail all the way to the horizon, she knew there were more to that distance.


    To the south there was a mountain, and to the north a forest. To the east was the city, and to the west a brown lake contaminated by the flesh mills nearby whose refuse was often dumped there. She could see the necrites extend all the way to the edges of all these landmarks, even if the mid and long distance became indistinct.


    Alex: ¡°Woah. Can you see that?¡±


    Alissa: ¡°Those are all necrites?¡±


    Alex: ¡°We don¡¯t stand a chance.¡±


    Alex: ¡°Oops¡­ I didn¡¯t mean to¡ª¡±


    Alissa: ¡°It¡¯s ok Alex, we¡¯re all thinking the same thing.¡±


    Will: ¡°No. You two are, I think we still win.¡±


    Alex: ¡°Even against infinity?¡±


    Will: ¡°Infinity? They span to the horizon. That¡¯s not infinity.¡±


    Anya: ¡°Necrites aren¡¯t the source of the problem, they¡¯re a symptom.¡± The others knew exactly what she meant¡ª it was nice to be able to understand each other like that.


    A picture of a black star rose in the sky above their head. It hadn¡¯t come to pass yet, but it was coming. That moment in which all color inverted: the black sun was coming soon. It would damn them all again if they let it.


    Will: ¡°How do we stop it?¡±


    Alissa: ¡°We can¡¯t, can we?¡±


    Alex: ¡°Probably not.¡±


    Will: ¡°Stop with the defeatist attitude! We¡¯re inside a giant flesh mech right now.¡± The necrites were squished and absorbed at an incredible pace¡ª thousands to a second.


    Will: ¡°Isn¡¯t this what you¡¯ve always dreamed of as a boy?¡±


    Alex: ¡°...¡±


    Alex: ¡°Yes.¡±


    Anya heard full-bellied female laughter, Alissa¡¯s of course. She didn¡¯t often laugh like that, so Anya had to make the connection.


    Will: ¡°Then buck up and be a man!¡±


    Alissa: ¡°No! He¡¯s my brother and I say¡ª¡±


    Alex: ¡°Will¡¯s right dear sister.¡±


    Anya could see the close visual of pouting lips.


    Alex: ¡°I don¡¯t think we can win, but we should plan like there¡¯s a chance. We have, what, two hours?¡±


    Anya: ¡°More like one. Maybe less, forty-five minutes? Something like that.¡±


    Will: ¡°How can you tell?¡±


    Anya: ¡°The air has a certain static to it, like it¡¯s about to catch on fire, like the moment before lighting strikes, like the smell after rain or just before a tornado.¡±


    Alissa: ¡°I can kind of feel it too.¡±


    Will: ¡°I can¡¯t at all.¡±


    Alex: ¡°Probably because you¡¯re not attuned to magic.¡±


    Will: ¡°...¡±


    Alex: ¡°That wasn¡¯t an insult. We all have different skills and I¡¯m not much better than you.¡± Alex chuckled, only discernible from Will because of context.


    Will: ¡°So what do we do next?¡±


    Anya: ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    Alissa: ¡°Can we cast a spell or use this body somehow?¡±


    Will: ¡°We can ravage the landscape for a thousand miles around. Form a new Imperial Waste.¡±


    Alex: ¡°That doesn¡¯t help us though.¡±


    Will: ¡°No it does not.¡±


    Alissa: ¡°Maybe we could use all the power in Colossus to fire some kind of magic weapon.¡±


    Anya¡¯s mind raced to the God-Slaying Sword, but instantly recoiled at the thought. Colossus was on the level of a god. Touching it was probably a very, very bad idea. But what else could they do? It wasn¡¯t like any of them knew magic really, and they were locked inside the body of Colossus. Just because it let them control it to some extent didn¡¯t mean they knew of or could do anything with that control. It was a giant blob of flesh that probably looked like an eldritch god from outside the way its many infinite writhing tentacles of flesh scoured the landscape of all life and left it barren. But what was there to be done? They could burrow underground, but that wouldn¡¯t solve the problem. Like Alissa had suggested they could leverage all the magic power building up inside the colossal weapon, but for what purpose? They needed a spell or some kind of conduit to actually channel the power into, otherwise it would be releasing energy for no purpose.


    Anya: ¡°That¡¯s it!¡± Anya shouted.


    Alissa: ¡°Owwww.¡± Her ears flashed with pain.


    Anya: ¡°Sorry.¡± There was volume in this thing? Interesting.


    Will: ¡°What is it?¡±


    Alex: ¡°Please tell me it¡¯s not that we can create TWO Imperial Wastes?¡±


    Anya: ¡°We can use Colossus to power the transmission lines inside the base.¡±


    Will: ¡°And do what?¡±


    Anya: ¡°Contact the Most High. They have to listen to us.¡±


    Alissa: ¡°No they don¡¯t.¡±


    Alex: ¡°They don¡¯t listen to anything but the sound of their own voice.¡±


    Will: ¡°We should try anyway. If we can get the Emperor to take note it could be big.¡±


    Anya focused below them on the base long-since covered by the miles-long blob of flesh that had long-since breached the clouds. She could feel detail beneath as Colossus¡¯ many tendrils infiltrated the base. There was a sudden jerk as the monster was pulled down.


    Alissa: ¡°What was that?!¡±


    Alex: ¡°Anya, did you do something?¡±


    Will: ¡°She¡¯s focusing. Don¡¯t ask.¡±


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    Alex: ¡°Ok Will, you tell us. What¡¯s she doing?¡±


    Will: ¡°Using Colossus to enter the base and power its transmission lines.¡±


    A feeling of surprise washed over Anya as the others finally understood her intent.


    Alissa: ¡°The base is that big?!¡±


    Will: ¡°It must be.¡±


    Alex: ¡°How big are we? For us to fall below the clouds means¡­¡±


    Will: ¡°The base is huge. Big enough to house a whole country¡¯s army. We¡¯ve only explored the surface of it, and only seen the most basic scraps of what it has to offer. It was constructed long before the empire took note of it, and had expanded continuously for decades or perhaps centuries.¡±


    Alex: ¡°So it¡¯s a labyrinth that spans the whole world?¡±


    Alissa: ¡°Wooooah.¡±


    Will: ¡°No, no one else has an entrance and no offshoots have ever been discovered. We don¡¯t know where the deepest chambers lead, and the few expeditions that have attempted to conquer it and returned alive have noted how it only ever leads downward.¡±


    Alissa: ¡°What¡¯s at the bottom?¡±


    Alex: ¡°Hell!¡±


    Will: ¡°Probably.¡±


    They didn¡¯t know.


    Anya had finished powering the transmission lines, though it was mostly her will directing Colossus to do the actual work. It did not take more than a second for words to appear in their collective skulls with the sound of a thousand voices speaking in unison.


    ¡°Speak, lest your actions betray you.¡±


    ¡°Oh great and glorious Most Hi¡ª¡±


    ¡°Speak,¡± they demanded.


    ¡°There¡¯s about forty-five minutes until the sun goes out.¡±


    There was silence.


    ¡°Salvation draws close. Speak.¡±


    Speak of what? What magic words did they possibly want to hear? Platitudes about how they would defeat some unknown ancient evil unsealed from a thousand-year slumber? They didn¡¯t even know the full extent of what was happening, much less who was involved or why.


    ¡°Speak or our ears will grow silent.¡±


    What?


    ¡°We have resurrected Colossus to do battle with the sea of open flesh that surrounds our base in hopes of creating options to defeat the enemy in the sky.¡±


    ¡°The black sun is not your enemy, though it will harm those you presently hold dear.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°The hour of salvation draws near.¡±


    ¡°Please, tell us what to do! Tell us how we can use Colossus to defeat¡ª¡± Anya knew that was the wrong question, but it was too late¡ª from the thousand voices there was only silence.


    Alex: ¡°Well that was a failure¡­¡±


    Alissa: ¡°See? They don¡¯t listen to anyone and raise more questions than you ask.¡±


    Will: ¡°That was productive.¡±


    Alissa: ¡°What?¡±


    Alex: ¡°They ran us in circles.¡±


    Will: ¡°No, they¡¯ve told us the black sun is on our side. That means we don¡¯t have to fight it.¡±


    Anya: ¡°You¡¯re all going to turn to ash. That means we can¡¯t let it happen.¡±


    Will: ¡°Did you see that? Or are you speculating?¡±


    Anya: ¡°...¡±


    Will: ¡°If we¡¯re in a time loop there¡¯s no reason to speculate. We should live it out and see what happens. If we turn to ash like you say that¡¯s one thing, but if we don¡¯t it¡¯s something else. Then the next thing and the next thing follows. There¡¯s too much chaos in this system to speculate on incomplete information.¡±


    Anya: ¡°But you want to trust the Most High.¡±


    Will: ¡°They¡¯re the highest source of truth we have.¡±


    Alissa: ¡°They also said the black sun will harm those Anya holds dear.¡±


    Will: ¡°That could mean civilians or it could mean us. We don¡¯t know. And ¡°you¡± is sometimes plural¡ª they could mean something we all care about, not each other. The only thing we do know is that the black sun is on our side.¡±


    Alex: ¡°....how?¡±


    Will: ¡°What?¡±


    Alex: ¡°If it really is on our side I¡¯m saying how? It¡¯s a giant catastrophe that kills everyone on this side of the fucking planet¡ª¡±


    Will: ¡°You don¡¯t know that.¡±


    Alex: ¡°Yeah yeah and I don¡¯t know if the moon is made of cheese.¡±


    Will: ¡°Look, I¡¯m not saying we should trust every word they said as if it¡¯s perfect clear truth, but what else are we supposed to do?¡±


    Alex: ¡°...I don¡¯t know.¡±


    Anya: ¡°We¡¯re supposed to figure out how to stop the black sun. Nothing else matters if we can¡¯t do that.¡±


    Will: ¡°But *how* exactly do we do that? We have no clues and no information. We¡¯re piloting a giant hunk of flesh the size of a fucking city but even if it were the size of a star that wouldn¡¯t help. We¡¯d just burn away.¡±


    Alissa: ¡°You don¡¯t know that.¡±


    Will: ¡°Fine, I don¡¯t, but I also don¡¯t see how this is supposed to help us.¡±


    Anya: ¡°It was the only choice we had! I needed to buy us time and Synarchy wasn¡¯t enough¡ª Judgement wasn¡¯t enough. Or are you saying there are other, better weapons stocked away somewhere.¡±


    Will: ¡°No, I didn¡¯t mean to question¡ª Look, Commander, I just want us to figure out how to do something here. We need to do something. All we¡¯re doing is talking. We need to act.¡±


    Alex: ¡°Do we? With so much time we could try anything, go anywhere, repeat every action.¡±


    Anya: ¡°My loop was an hour shorter this time.¡±


    Alex: ¡°So? Ours was just as long. Yours may have special rules but you won¡¯t be able to find out until you exercise them.¡±


    Anya: ¡°And what if I do lose time every go around?¡±


    Alex: ¡°Then you¡¯re fucked.¡±


    Will: ¡°We¡¯re fucked, Alex. We¡¯re fucked.¡±


    Alex didn¡¯t respond.


    Alissa: ¡°I don¡¯t want to die.¡± She spoke in a small voice.


    Alex: ¡°None of us do. Stay strong.¡±


    Will: ¡°That¡¯s all we can do it seems. But right now we ought to use that strength to accomplish something.¡±


    Anya: ¡°We¡¯re talking in circles here. What do you even suggest?¡±


    Will: ¡°I don¡¯t know. I already said that.¡±


    Alex: laughed.


    They knew exactly what was left on their plate. Colossus was the only avenue remaining. Several things could be learned from this loop, but for the moment the only thing they could do was wait. Run out the clock and watch the necrites die. Watch their own skin and observe if it charred to a mountain of ash. Perhaps they would form a new landscape, or perhaps Colossus would survive.


    For now the only thing left to do was kill. Anya focused on the tentacles nearest the city as the others understood her felt intent and did the same. Will focused on the south mountain. Alissa on the northern forest. Alex on the western contaminated lake. To the city Anya could see the necrites cut down like stalks of wheat before the modern agricultural machinery she piloted. She had heard of this technology and knew that agricultural production had more than quintupled in the last five years, but to experience a modern combine harvester for herself was a different experience entirely.


    At first the tentacles she wielded had killed and harvested the necrites in one action, slowing down to¡ª ¡°oh.¡± Anya muttered to herself. She finally noticed their teeth. It would seem there was no special means of devouring the necrites. The tentacles opened wide from the horizontal direction and chewed the necrites up. Had it always been that way? She didn¡¯t know, but the sight now was revolting. The tentacle mouths didn¡¯t really have lips and didn¡¯t close between bites or during the motion of chewing. Being as Colossus was processing so many bodies so quickly it didn¡¯t care about processing every piece, only that they were stuffed inside quickly.


    Before the open mouths had rammed themselves against the tide of the skinless, but now there were two or three support tentacles to either side that constantly filled the lipless mouth with more flesh to devour, and when pieces fell out of the processing machine one or two other tentacles in the shape of snow-shovels dedicated themselves to bringing the refuse back up to the mouth. In this way all parts of the necrites were swallowed save for the endless blood that stained every inch below and around Colossus with the same endless shade of red.


    Anya focused and the tentacles devoured tens of thousands of necrites. Colossus once again breached the clouds even as its tentacles had not moved from the base below that now housed some quarter or third of its mass. Colossus spanned a diameter of many miles at this point, and Anya could no longer focus on the entire city-side direction. It had always been a mostly autonomous machine, but now there was no room left for humanity. What did it even mean to aid Colossus when your ¡°aid¡± spanned some 1/10th of 1% of its total processing capacity. Even if Colossus were piloted by some fifty or hundred or ten thousand archons as the legends said it once had been, their humanity would have been diluted out. There was no room for individuality in a machine like this. Grabbing the bodies and feeding them to slaughter. Picking up the refuse and broken bones discarded through laziness to break and chew again. There was no creativity now. There was no humanity. There was only blood and hunger as Colossus grew.


    And yet even with only four body¡¯s efforts averaged out it was enough. The minutes had passed and Colossus rose to tower above the clouds as though it would pierce heaven itself. To every side they had met the natural boundaries. Mountains pricked Colossus¡¯ southern edge. Its flesh spilled over their ridges like a muffin top. To the north the many trees had been flattened and felt like nothing more than carpet. The brown lake stung with the acidity of pollution, yet there was no way to avoid spilling into it. Even the city was on the verge of being flattened, its many inhabitants fleeing in panic. Anya had paid them no mind, seeing as they would all soon be dead anyway, but it was no less painful to watch their rolling mounds of flesh called cars crash into each other and explode with the pressurized blood not meant for human bodies. It was heated beyond boiling and kept in liquid state by pressure, so when finally released to the outside world it splattered out for many dozens of feet around, giving all present second or third degree burns. Some who were unlucky enough to be struck in the face or other vital areas would find themselves melting, disfigured and destined to die. Even if they survived their permanent disfigurement it was likely they would find themselves an outcast from society. And there was only one place outcasts ever ended up. With no one to miss them they would soon be abducted and made to work or¡­ be recycled¡­ in one of the many flesh mills.


    Anya wasn¡¯t sure if it was kinder to die by boiling blood or trampling from a panicked stampede. She supposed it didn¡¯t matter.

 Thirteen Angels

    And then at last and at once the sky turned from black to yellow-white. To all sides the world changed as though its color fell away and beyond away to the inverse of what it had been. The gray mountains became¡­ still gray but brighter¡­ the grass turned magenta, the trees a similar shade, and the glorious massive pile of flesh called Colossus turned not black with char but cyan with glee. But to all sides the necrites remained, swarming like ants and yet with the intelligence to at last retreat from the dangerous edge at which Colossus fed on them as the infinite fodder they were.


    And yet though Anya feared for a brief moment they would starve, such worries were unfounded because from above a choir of thirteen angels rose to the sky. It was difficult to make out their features with Colossus¡¯ weak eyesight even with a thousand eyes dotting its endless writhing flesh formed in response to the will of its commander. They were tiny in the distance, having risen from the city far above the clouds and the uppermost reaches of Colossus itself, but one thing was clear: they were powerful. The air crackled with the white figures¡¯ authority as it fought amongst itself and Anya projected by Colossus through the space to wrest control of everything around. Anya barely even recognized what was happening until it was over and the air suddenly turned hostile: burning and sparking as though it would strike her down any second.


    And it would. From the distance the white angels whose wings sparkled with the authority to fly without action raised their arms and thirteen rays of white light flew across the landscape. Colossus split apart as though hamburger pressed through a wire mesh. The sensation didn¡¯t hurt, but the others screamed in panic into Anya¡¯s ears as their connection was severed. She was left alone in darkness as Colossus found itself broken apart, and the silence was deafening. In the long seconds stretching out Anya could feel the faint rumbling of a collapsing mountain shredded by continual laser fire. Strangely, she could still feel the connections Colossus had attached to her. If she willed them to it was likely they could reactivate and restore function to her small slice of the creature, but even if it was able to consume the others would it even be worth the effort to struggle against such powerful creatures when she hadn¡¯t even been able to recognize their attack until it had already destroyed the mountain Colossus had once been? Was it even worth struggling against such an inevitable defeat when it meant nothing and wouldn¡¯t even be seen by anyone? It was unlikely the others could reactivate their slices of the beast, but Anya could. Was it worth it?


    Yes. It was always worth the struggle. It was always worth fighting until the last breath when there was something left worth fighting for. She had killed herself in the last cycle because it had seemed all was lost, but now? Now there was something worth fighting for. Even if it was the faintest glimmer of knowledge about their situation, she could lose and go back. She could learn something and use it to save everyone in another loop. Did that mean it wasn¡¯t worth dying at the end of an unwinnable scenario? No. She wouldn¡¯t continue on only to starve. But here? But now? There was something here to learn.


    Anya sent a flash of will through the nerves still bound to her flesh and felt an electric jolt fly through her as every cell of her body screamed in pain. But it wasn¡¯t her body, and it wasn¡¯t pain. It was the sensation of overwhelming sensation; of every nerve being activated at once as the beast once again powered itself on. But this time she could see every detail around as eyes formed on every surface of every writhing tendril now controlled by the one mind inside it. And every tendril had begun to fade, moving closer to Anya and the winged beasts¡¯ shade.


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    And now she could see them. They weren¡¯t special. The form was simply that of an evolved greater necrite. They were white and smooth and somewhat shiny, contrasting heavily against the backdrop of the black star behind them, forming a ring against its surface. They had no features save for a series of small slits that she supposed must have been where sharp teeth had formed without lips against the face, and six feathered wings on either side of their bodies. Besides these wings and teeth no other features were visible. Would they continue to evolve over time? Anya also didn¡¯t understand how they could have risen to the sky so quickly when last time they had followed her around. Perhaps she just hadn¡¯t noticed¡­ It wasn¡¯t clear.


    But now her mission was. Anya¡¯s writhing tendrils spanned outward to consume the other thirteen slices of the once larger beast. It took very little time for the two adjacent slices to become one with her, eaten by the many tens of thousands of tendrils that flew out to consume the already mostly processed meat. While it would take time to chew through the rest, Anya had been positioned almost directly below the thirteen angels which had risen above the eastern city, and her slice was therefore centered against them. This meant she wouldn¡¯t have to worry about one side running out of meat, at least.


    On the other hand, it wouldn¡¯t mean anything if they noticed her and attacked again, so as the fourth and fifth slices of the once and still mountainous Colossus found themselves rejoined, Anya crouched, preparing to jump to the sky. Her tub of meat sloshed within the walls of other slices as it prepared to splash up. It didn¡¯t take long. Anya pressed into the base her tendrils still occupied with everything she had and her body responded exactly as it should have. No, no. It did not respond as it should have. It flew far into the heavens so quickly Anya couldn¡¯t believe it. The mountain¡­ jumped. It was unreal, but the bottom edges had detached themselves from her and allowed the main body to fly up in a single spike toward the angels, and in fact rose so high the angels fell beneath her now.


    They raised their arms again to blow Anya¡¯s new form away, but she was faster than they were. Spikes of tendrils flew forward at the backdrop of white city and magenta earth far below, and speared through no less than six of the angels in the single moment before their lasers could destroy her.


    But it wasn¡¯t enough. Seven others remained, and the six she had speared were not pierced so much as grabbed and prevented from moving their arms any further in the direction of action. Apparently the motion was required for them to cast their spell or whatever it was. In any case, the remaining seven angels split Anya¡¯s form into eight pieces. She began rapidly reattaching to the severed forms which still clutched six of the angels tightly, preventing them from participating further, but the act was futile. Her mountain was already falling and there was no way she could reach the remaining angels left floating in the sky by the time her new body fell. But she tried anyway, grasping at the air in vain with a thousand outstretched arms, missing the seven remaining angelic demons by what felt like inches. The six she had grabbed fell with her, the severed meat holding them tightly as though autonomous even without a brain, or at least autonomous enough to preserve a muscle reflex. Besides, Anya reconnected to them very quickly.


    But as she fell the sky darkened all around, its white-gray hue falling again to black as a corona formed around the sun. It flickered with the beauty and power of a total solar eclipse, but this time the corona was not the sun itself but rather the angels passing in front of it. They shone with the radiance of a thousand stars and drowned the landscape out as though absorbing all the light inside it. In the moments before Anya struck the ground a ray of light descended from heaven as if to say ¡°God is real. God is here. And. This. Is. Hell.¡±


    She was incinerated instantly.

 We’re Doing this Again?!

    Straw blonde hair. White skin. Blue eyes and a weary face.


    There was David Einrich again, his neck gripped by tentacles this time, choking him to death. It squeezed just a bit harder than his flesh could handle and David¡¯s head popped off like a loose cork to the fountain of blood now spilling out.


    Anya turned wordlessly to the base and slammed shut the doors. They rang with the sound of pain and desperation, but no one heard. Even the monsters didn¡¯t take note, though it wasn¡¯t like they could come inside anyway now. She reached inside her pocket and dumped 7 pills down the hatch, shuddering with the enhanced senses and distinct lack of restraint. It was a short span of minutes before Anya reached Central, but there was only one thought in her head.


    Ok, maybe two¡ª that the clock had not ticked forward, and that she needed to save Raethor. It was most important that she saved Raethor, with his command they could do anything. Solve any problem. Fix this situation. And with the clock not running out it didn¡¯t seem so bad. They could do this. They could win.


    She flung open the door with a quick and brutal stab of the finger to the skin lock and witnessed true horror within. Raethor was dead on his knees. Melissa clutched his fingertips, trying desperately to heal him with minimal contact, but for all the blood? She stood no chance.


    Luther was alive this time, but Alissa, Alex, and Jes¨²s were all dead. Luther explained that Jes¨²s had immediately tried to shoot him.


    ¡°I fucking knew it.¡± Alex had said, killing him the instant before his round could fire, but Will had been prepared for the outcome and shot him almost as quickly as Alex had shot Jes¨²s. Alissa, unfortunately, had also been prepared and lept in front of Will¡¯s first shot. He shot again, however, killing Alex before any more damage could be done.


    ¡°What happened to Raethor?¡± Anya asked him.


    ¡°He was silent for a moment.¡± Not Luther, Raethor.


    ¡°His Mandate didn¡¯t like that and he erupted into a fountain of blood.¡±


    Anya cursed. It was like God Himself was fucking with her. Removing the one person she could count on in the situation just to watch her squirm and she was fucking sick of it.


    She took the remaining seven pills and her skin turned instantly white.


    ¡°Where are Peter, Lululu, Dio, and Will now?¡± She demanded of Luther.


    ¡°Dio and Will went to heavy weapons. Peter, Lululu and Henry are¡­ Emperor knows where.¡±


    Anya sighed. They¡¯d atomized even further. Dio, Will, and Jes¨²s formed one block, likely because Anya had killed Jes¨²s in the last loop. Alex and Alissa¡­ were probably still on her side, but Peter, Lululu, and Henry had formed another faction. She just hoped those who remained would stay by her side. They needed to stick together, and they needed leadership. Even if they didn¡¯t have that she¡¯d have to be enough.


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    ¡°Listen,¡± Luther started, ¡°am I a burden to you?¡±


    Anya was taken off guard, but answered quickly. ¡°What? No¡­? No!¡±


    ¡°I can tell when I¡¯m not wanted in the room, and that¡¯s the second time Raethor died because of me.¡± He put his head in his hands and sighed deeply, rubbing his eyes.


    ¡°I just wanted to serve my country, you know? They said I could defend my homeland and put food on the table for my family. I just¡­ I wanted something better for them. Chris tells me the sun goes black and kills off this side of the planet in a couple hours. Is that true? Can we even stop it?¡±


    Anya started speaking, but he didn¡¯t wait for her to answer.


    ¡°I know we can¡¯t. After all we¡¯ve been through. After all we¡¯ve done. It was all for fucking this! All the fucking kills I made were supposed to protect something. To be. For. Something. Not this. Not this!¡±


    He put his rifle to his chin.


    ¡°Listen. I know when I¡¯m not wanted in a room. Just¡­ let me out of this. I don¡¯t want to be here. I don¡¯t want to do this again. I don¡¯t want to suffer.¡±


    He tried to pull the trigger, but Anya forced his hand off the rifle. She did not snatch it away from him, an act equivalent to saying ¡°I won¡¯t let you, and you can¡¯t stop me from stopping you. You¡¯re here to stay bucko. Now buckle up.¡±


    Luther started crying. ¡°I don¡¯t want to fight an unwinnable battle when my comrades want me dead. I don¡¯t want to be a burden. Just let me¡ª¡±


    ¡°Shut up Luther, you little bitch.¡± Melissa screamed from across the room, storming over to them and immediately slapping him in the face. Yuna flinched at the words, but said nothing. Luther reached up and touched the red mark on his bearded cheek. Melissa didn¡¯t stop berating him, but didn¡¯t slap him again either now that he was semi-lucid.


    ¡°I know your mama didn¡¯t raise you to be like that. I know your family wouldn¡¯t appreciate their breadwinner giving up on them like that. I know you didn¡¯t fight all the way here just to give up like that. Stand up and fight! Not in spite of the fact Will and Dio and Jes¨²s,¡± she paused and spat, ¡°hate your guts, but because they hate your guts. Fight and die and come back and fucking win! You¡¯re not a soldier because you gave up in training. You¡¯re not a soldier because you can¡¯t take the heat. You¡¯re here because you¡¯re up to muster, not because you lick boots or like shooting the kinds of people Command wants you to shoot. You¡¯re here in spite of the fact you¡¯re one of the people Command wants shot. Why? God knows I don¡¯t, but you¡¯re here for a reason. If you don¡¯t have one, fight because I told you to, and because Anya ordered it.¡±


    There was silence in the room for a long minute.


    ¡°We¡¯re going to explore the base now. Are you in, soldier?¡± Anya half ordered, half commanded.


    ¡°Yes.¡± Luther said in a small voice.


    ¡°I SAID ARE YOU IN SOlDIER?¡± Anya demanded much louder than her voice ordinarily allowed. She started coughing afterward, but luckily Luther¡¯s booming voice drowned it out.


    ¡°YES, COMMANDER!¡±


    ¡°Good, then move out.¡± There was nothing to load, only their bodies to move wherever they were going. Luther, Chris, Yuna, Anya, and Melissa were together this time around, and they would find the secret at the heart of this base if it killed them. And it would. They would die again and again, but with time to figure things out it wasn¡¯t so bad. They could throw bodies at the problem until the problem solved itself. The only danger to the situation was also their main advantage: that everyone knew they were in a loop from the moment it began. While of course some of them died earlier into the loops than others, it meant they could all share a common basis of understanding to the situation and its many intricacies. They could all respond knowing in their core they weren¡¯t going to die. There was no uncertainty about it. There was no doubt. They had all experienced first-hand what it was like to die, and they had all been revived.

 Forges of Flesh

    On the other hand, they had all died. They were all going to die again. It was going to be horrible. Through all the many repetitions to come there were going to die in increasingly terrible ways as they fought desperately to escape the situation. In a single-person loop the main character could simply throw themselves at problems again and again until they were solved. It demanded only one person¡¯s constitution. But Anya knew and had just seen how easily it was to break someone. Luther had died twice, and Melissa was right, he was a soldier. He wasn¡¯t weak, but she didn¡¯t want to imagine what it was like to spend your whole life fighting to be accepted as a soldier and get to that point and then face something like this. It was understandable that his mentality would shatter. It was unreasonable to expect someone to face something like this without fear and doubt, so adding more people compounded that problem. It meant in every loop something was lost. Not just in each person¡¯s mind, as that would happen even if only one person were reincarnated, but their connections to each other would surely weaken as time passed. How could they not? With each person learning what it meant to die alone over and over and over. Even in the midst of your comrades you¡¯d be unable to watch them die as Alex had, focused too much on your own bones dissolving to realize you were sharing a common fate. It didn¡¯t matter in the end. Not really. You were all going to die but the agony was yours alone. There was no way to share that.


    ¡°So where are we going?¡± Yuna asked, an inch from Anya¡¯s ear, bending down. Anya jumped, startled from thought.


    ¡°Deeper.¡± She said quickly.


    ¡°I know that,¡± Yuna sighed, ¡°but deeper toward what?¡±


    ¡°To the forges.¡± Anya said absentmindedly. She didn¡¯t know. It didn¡¯t matter.


    Yuna flinched. ¡°The forges you say¡­¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not a bad idea.¡± Melissa said, surveying Anya¡¯s new body with the kind of lust only a machinist could have. Anya shuddered, realizing again what it meant to be objectified. She¡¯d heard cat-calls before, but Melissa wanted to do more than stick a tiny prick into her to deliver a medicinal load. She wanted to saw things off and poke around inside or replace them wholesale and act like nothing had changed. But Anya¡¯s body wasn¡¯t some fungible commodity to be replaced and upgraded. Besides, it would be¡­ more than a little unpleasant.


    ¡°Uh¡­ maybe no¡ª¡± Anya began.


    ¡°We should go.¡± Chris boomed from inside her head. They were already walking, but she understood his intent. He also wanted to go there, and he had a good reason to.


    ¡°Fuuuck.¡± Anya thought, accepting her damnation to be treated as a test-subject.


    They walked through the halls in silence, jumping at every shadow, but as though the enemy was secretly on their side they were not interrupted. They did always seem to appear late, but there wasn¡¯t any entrance to the base other than the tightly-secured metal sliding doors Anya had closed and locked herself. If they could break those doors it didn¡¯t make sense for them to not have ambushed their party in the weapons depot in the last two cycles. If they could break the front door down it only made sense they could break down any given interior door. But if they weren¡¯t breaking down the front door then they must have been coming from inside. If they were coming from inside it didn¡¯t make sense for them to avoid attacking either¡­ unless of course they were coming from deep within. But the base didn¡¯t have any other entrances.


    They came upon two large metal doors draped in their usual white skin. There were two skin locks with rusty knives attached by tiny rusted chains to draw the necessary patterns with. It was an old style lock¡­


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    ¡°Fuck.¡± Anya cursed.


    ¡°I hate these.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry.¡± Melissa said. ¡°I know a trick to them.¡± She walked over and grabbed the far knife, some thirty or forty feet from the nearer one.


    ¡°Do you guys know what she¡¯s thinking?¡± Luther asked.


    ¡°No idea.¡± Yuna said. Chris shook his head in silence.


    ¡°Watch this!¡± Melissa shouted, hefting her rifle in the left hand and knife in the other.


    Her right arm started to move in a stabbing motion, and about halfway there a shot rang out.


    *BANG*


    The lock clicked, doors opening as Melissa jogged back over to the party.


    ¡°What¡¯d ya think?¡± she asked, grinning.


    ¡°Nice shot for a medic.¡± Anya said.


    ¡°It helps that I¡¯m a lefty.¡±


    They walked into the door and regarded the huge room some fifty by two hundred feet in size with a cavernous fifty foot domed ceiling. In the center was a large circular workbench with a thousand scattered tools all over, and a half-finished sheet of midnight-black colored metal, clearly in the middle of reprocessing. Had they interrupted something?


    Anya was certainly interrupted by something she didn¡¯t realize they had¡ª the first echoing screams of the flesh benches and forges whose pregnant stomachs were open with metal sheets spreading them open, cut like angels with closed reverse-facing wings. Their agony reverberated from the dome-shaped ceiling in a room designed with specific intent to amplify their screams. Anya hefted her rifle and pointed it at the first chained victim. Her hair was long and ratty and she wore no clothing. There was hardly a second between seeing the splayed stomachs of the forges and Anya¡¯s first shot, hardly enough time for the chained slave to scream, but no words were needed to know death had been a mercy. No words could have been spoken regardless of how much time had passed for them to plead their fate. The designers had wanted to hear screams, not language, not pleading for mercy and other meaningless words. They wanted to hear rattling chains and pain, so they¡¯d cut out the forges¡¯ tongues, as was tradition in these places. There was no need to hear them speak. Often their mouths would be sewn shut to reduce the noise hazard for workers, but that didn¡¯t seem to be a concern here.


    Two shots rang out before Yuna put a hand on Anya¡¯s rifle-barrel.


    ¡°There¡¯s no point.¡± She said, but Anya fired again.


    ¡°Ow,¡± Yuna yelled, pulling back her hand. ¡°Fuck you burned me good.¡±


    ¡°You know there¡¯s no point!¡± She yelled in Anya¡¯s ear.


    ¡°Of course there¡¯s a point!¡± Anya yelled back, firing a fourth shot.


    ¡°You need to stop.¡± Melissa said flatly.


    Five.


    ¡°Anya!¡± Melissa yelled at her.


    ¡°We need them to forge weapons, and you know they¡¯re just going to respawn right? If they keep their memories you¡¯re not helping anything.¡±


    ¡°FUCK.¡± Anya yelled, putting down her rifle.


    ¡°What¡¯s the fucking point of fighting if we¡¯re going to enslave and abuse so many innocents?¡±


    ¡°You know they aren¡¯t innocent.¡± Yuna said.


    ¡°What did you just say?¡± Luther shouted. There was a long history of questionable sentencing.


    ¡°My Mom was one of them, and she didn¡¯t do nothin¡¯ to deserve it.¡±


    Yuna flinched slightly and corrected herself. ¡°Most of them aren¡¯t innocent.¡±


    ¡°Most? Next you¡¯ll say some.¡± Luther continued shouting. ¡°Or a couple.¡±


    He didn¡¯t stop. ¡°How many are innocent here, do you think? Five? Ten? Fifty? How long do you think they¡¯ve been  chained up like this? How long do you think they deserved? A decade? Two? Three? You can fuck off saying they¡¯re guilty of some crime. There is no crime that deserves this.¡±


    ¡°And yet,¡± Melissa said, having allowed Luther to finish at Yuna¡¯s expense. The poor woman looked as if she was about to cry. ¡°We need them.¡±


    Luther grumbled, but knew ultimately she was right. They did need them. And as much as he would love to set them free, it would do them no good with Death looming closer hour by hour.

 Chains

    The collars around chained necks rattled as Anya approached the center of the room, touching her fingers to the midnight-colored metal at its center, halfway through the forging process in which its inner nature was betrayed and reformed as something else. It seemed to have lines traced across it where the pieces would be cut out and folded together. There was the outline of a rifle stock and various other pieces of an autorepeater, but with a strange design. There was no place to load either a physical magazine or to attach a nutrient pipe. And more strangely, there was no barrel outline.


    The slave collars continued to rattle intermixed with their constant screams. Anya had ignored them, but now it was too late. Two shots rang out, and before she could turn around she felt a crack against her skull¡ª the butt of a rifle. Disoriented, Anya fell over the table, unable to control her body. The sensation was strange but not painful as though her mind had been detached from its shell and left without control. She could still see and hear and feel the world through the body¡¯s eyes and ears and skin, but movement was no longer possible. In these moments as she slumped off the table, aided by a stiff pull from behind, Anya saw that both Yuna and Melissa were dead. Their bodies were crumpled in heaps amidst a pool of blood. Their brains stuck out slightly from exit wounds only to close the next time around.


    The world went black, but Anya did not lose consciousness. There was no more feeling, only darkness. Only this empty void of a world without light as her body was bound like the slaves, granted only the mercy of keeping its tongue and perhaps chastity for a little longer as the useful information was extracted. She could feel the cool wind on her face despite the lack of air and physical presence. Her skin was flush with blood, burning up on the outside. Inside she wasn¡¯t exactly cold, but shivering nonetheless. Being here in the abyss reminded her of something she so desperately needed to fix: hunger. She was shivering with it, burning up with the insatiable need to eat. Alight with the flames of bodily passion and restrained by her own misplaced desire. Trying to save the others from a fate they could repeat a thousand times. Why? Why did she bother with it when they would revive again tomorrow like it had never happened?


    Well, because it did happen and they would remember, and because it had only happened twice so far. Two repetitions of this cycle and her brain and body had already been broken apart. Perhaps it was the influence of piloting Colossus. Perhaps it was something else. But floating in the cool darkness Anya knew only one thing: she needed to eat fifty cheeseburgers, or everyone was going to die. How had she forgotten this fundamental truth? One must first take care of themselves before considering anything else, and she had pretended the hunger was something to be suppressed. She needed to eat.


    The lights came back on and Anya screamed, slapped in the face and told to shut the fuck up and listen. The world was still a blur and her head burned, the pain turning at the same moment the light had. It stung, but not deeply. There was a stab-wound in her stomach that would not mend, and that hurt far more than any light headwound possibly could. Even the others¡¯ deaths didn¡¯t sting, not when they would be alive again soon.


    But when she realized it was Jessica who had slapped her Anya was filled with rage. She remained silent for the restraints around her wrists, ankles, waist, shoulders, and neck, but she was going to put a bullet through that bitch the second she got the chance. It took everything she had not to spit in Jessica¡¯s face.


    ¡°Good morning!¡± she beamed.


    ¡°I hope you had a pleasant nap!¡±


    ¡°Where¡¯s Luther?¡± Anya demanded, but Jessica slapped her again and Anya noticed the knife in her left hand as her head tilted toward it violently.


    ¡°I¡¯m asking the questions here. Or, giving you the prepared statement.¡± She shrugged, knife-blade pointing upward.


    ¡°So shut your mouth and listen, or I¡¯ll give it the treatment it deserves!¡± The knife-blade indicated the other slaves, and Anya recognized it as a threat to cut out her tongue. There wasn¡¯t any point in resistance and she¡¯d lose information if Jessica didn¡¯t give her villain monologue, so Anya sat quietly back against the wall, disregarding the short, fat, ugly hag of a woman whose makeup made her look like a clown.


    Anya hadn¡¯t hated Jessica before, not really. There had always been a mild aversion to her suck-up Karen lifestyle, and the feeling was mutual regarding Anya¡¯s military poise and often unfeminine behavior, but why she would brandish a knife threatening to cut out Anya¡¯s tongue was¡­ unclear. Clearly something had changed, and Jessica was about to explain what. Maybe then Anya would be able to get free and translate her mild dislike turned hatred into something a little more visceral. Perhaps the reaction was overblown, but considering the situation? Fuck her. She should die.


    ¡°You always were so masculine. So fascinated with sucking Raethor off. Did you think that made you feminine again? Just because you wanted to please your master? That¡¯s not what it means to be feminine you tomboy whore!¡±


    She kept rambling, forgetting she herself was a soldier. Anya stopped paying attention until she started licking the knife, edge-first, blood beginning to drip down her tongue.


    ¡°Just because you played soldier didn¡¯t make you better than us. Just because you played left hand to God didn¡¯t make you better.¡±


    The blood splattered on Anya¡¯s face, speckling her red, and though she didn¡¯t dare speak, the question of what had possibly happened to Jessica loomed large.


    ¡°Did you think you could fix this on your own?!¡± She started screaming.


    ¡°All you¡¯ve done is make it harder for Peter to find a real solution. You can¡¯t do that, stupid girl. You can¡¯t mess up the real plans. Stop playing at roles you aren¡¯t suited for! It¡¯s unbecoming.¡± Did Jessica not realize Lululu was also there? Presumably they were still working together. Is that what this was? Peter had found Jessica and driven her mad? But there was nothing Peter should possibly have over her that should drive her to lick knife blades for fun and drama.


    Jessica pressed the blade to Anya¡¯s throat.


    ¡°Maybe I should give you a nice bright-red neck-tie, really punctuate the role you¡¯ve tried to take for yourself!¡±


    ¡°Jessica, stop!¡± Anya heard Peter yell from across the room, behind the looming form of the clown-soldier playing at a role that had driven her to madness.


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    ¡°Just, keep an eye on her. That¡¯s the only thing we told you to do. Cutting is fine, but you can¡¯t fucking kill her and you need to wait until I leave. Stop making me repeat that! Your prattling and screams are distracting me from my work...¡±


    Jessica shut up, and the minutes began to pass in silence. Anya watched her, flicking her ugly red-painted fingernails with the knife-blade. Chipping them and breaking off pieces. Occasionally dragging the blade seductively across Anya¡¯s skin. It made Anya¡¯s tongue quiver with excitement, the blade reminding her of cutting up a stuffed pig¡­ even if it was an ironic thought. The sounds of passing time were the clanking of metal and the occasional screams of forges implanted with new flesh to birth. Anya said nothing for a long while, but it had become clear what was happening.


    They needed her. They hadn¡¯t hesitated to kill Chris and Yuna, and Anya wasn¡¯t sure if Luther was alive or not, but there was no reason to delay the trigger-pull if they had any reason to fire at all. Her place in this was special, separated from the others in space and time even if they all came back on death. But that was the thing, wasn¡¯t it. Whose death triggered the loop? Anya hadn¡¯t thought to ask about that before because she had always died last. But only last in the groups she had been in. If Peter and Lululu were off in the base doing their own thing then they should have continued living on.


    Therefore one of two things were true: either the others were petrified to the same ash sculptures regular humans were when the black sun rose¡ª which seemed unlikely given the Most High had claimed it was on their side¡ª or Anya had some special role to play in the time loop. But if this latter option were true it wasn¡¯t clear why Peter would be aware of it. Did Lulululululululu have some kind of special awareness? It was possible she knew more about the situation than she had been letting on. That seemed especially likely given she and Peter had split off and killed each other from very early on, and were here now¡ª Peter at least¡ª working on some project to forge a weapon to¡­ what? Kill God? There was no body up there in the sky. Shooting a star seemed impossible. What would be the point?


    ¡°Can¡¯t you at least kill me so I can get back to work?¡± she shouted at Peter. Jessica screamed incredulously.


    ¡°You can¡¯t talk to him!¡± she began. ¡°Know your fucking place you stupid c¡ª¡±


    ¡°Shut up, Jessica. You can cut out her tongue if she speaks again, but I¡¯d like to avoid that.¡±


    He walked over and patted Jessica on the shoulder, pushing her aside. His robe was cut in several places, and burned in others. His hair and beard were disheveled and his face looked haggard. The man was exhausted and there were dark circles under his eyes. That was what it meant to live for three days without sleep, she supposed.


    ¡°Just, sit still, Anya. We don¡¯t want to hurt you. We don¡¯t want to be enemies.¡±


    Anya opened her mouth, beginning to say something like ¡°Then what is this? You said she could cut me, but only once you leave.¡± and would have spread her hands if she were able, gesturing to the dead bodies she supposed must still be around here somewhere. Peter motioned his fingers closed, however, as if to preempt her speech, though he didn¡¯t seem like he¡¯d be all that displeased if she had ended up speaking. It wasn¡¯t every day you got to watch someone¡¯s tongue get cut out, even if it might mean delaying whatever project he was working on.


    ¡°You need to sit still. Let us finish our work. It doesn¡¯t mean anything to die. Not here, not now. There is no mercy in death. No respite. We simply wake up again and go on as before like nothing happened. And given that, what does it matter anyway to die? A headshot is instant. Painless. They go on as before when you return to them. But we do so need to finish our work now. Please, sit still. Or don¡¯t! Jessica seems quite restless after seeing¡­ Let¡¯s not get ahead of ourselves. Sit down and shut up.¡±


    ¡°Why not gag me then?¡± Anya ventured, certain now her guess had been correct. It was her death that reset the loop, not the black sun, but she would confirm with the others who had been in Colossus the last time once the next one started. They would be able to tell her if they had survived to see the angels. She mentally cursed herself for not thinking to ask before. It had been so easy to assume they would survive as long as she did with all the same constraints. But it was clear that wasn¡¯t true now.


    Peter answered quite simply. ¡°Because Jessica seems like she needs to cut something or she¡¯ll end up cutting herself. Worse, she could end up interfering in our work more than you already have. So we told her she can cut you once for every word you blabber now. Twice that count now that you¡¯ve made me come over here!¡±


    Jessica grinned, her lips smeared with ugly lipstick pulled wide against her face. She flicked the knife against her finger joints and they bled. Anya cursed silently. They had made her go through worse in training, but now she was going to be held in bondage and subjected to a fate far crueler than death¡ª watching herself get carved up and being unable even to taste the slivers of flesh.


    She shook her head, or tried, breaking the thought. The chains rattled. She realized saying that out loud would make her sound crazy, but it wasn¡¯t as crazy as it might seem. Feeding the rifles required a pouring out of one¡¯s own flesh through the nutrient tube, and being a soldier required unpleasant sacrifices. Or so they said. She could see the value in getting used to being cut, but it was kind of sick to make new recruits eat barbecued slivers of their own skin. ¡°Kind of¡± only because she could see the value in it as a hazing ritual. What else were you supposed to do with perfectly good ~pork rinds?


    That clarification didn¡¯t help her case, but she had no idea what else to do sitting around in chains. There wasn¡¯t much to be said inside her that hadn¡¯t already, and time was no object. Not when it was being endlessly repeated. She would be able to discuss with the dead a thousand times hereafter. Even if Peter thought he could break the spell, she failed to see how that was possible alone. Such a large-scale event would require more than the outline of a new weapon. Not even Colossus was enough to break this situation. But there was Pleroma sitting there below¡­ Did he intend to mount the sword like a gun? How the fuck did he expect to fire a sword from a gun?


    Whatever. Pretending the mechanism would work, which it wouldn¡¯t, what would it even accomplish? Was he going to shoot the fucking sun? With a gun? That normally shot bullets? That didn¡¯t make any sense. Less sense even than Jessica¡¯s constant babbling.


    ¡°So what if I¡¯m not even real. You¡¯re not real either! None of this is real!¡±


    Ah, yes, the ¡°all a dream¡± defence. If only it were that simple, but Anya had died already, and normally dream death wasn¡¯t something you¡¯d keep sleeping through. Unfortunately, the knife Jessica held in her hand was waving wildly close to Anya¡¯s face. Even if the delusions weren¡¯t real, the delusional crazy bitch with the knife in front of her was. And that was going to be painful.


    Her hunger stabbed at the stomach again so forcefully Anya reeled in pain and the chains strained under the pressure of her inwardly-retracting core. She looked down and noticed the creeping in of white all across her flesh. It would seem every hunger pang brought her closer to getting out of this situation.


    Anya heard the slamming of a door and Jessica screamed with excitement. In the next second, Anya got stabbed through the stomach. Jessica leaned in and started to whisper.


    ¡°Do you want me to tell you a secret?¡±


    Anya tried to talk, but coughed and spit blood in her face, but Jessica didn¡¯t care.


    ¡°You weren¡¯t there!¡±


    She screamed again, louder this time, directly in Anya¡¯s ear.


    ¡°Do you know what that means?¡±


    ¡°Wha¡ª¡± ¡°Whaaa¡ª¡± Anya trailed off, choking. An awfully lot of it for a minor stabbing. It barely even hurt, but she could feel herself dissociating.


    ¡°It means if I kill you you don¡¯t really die!¡±


    ¡­That meant Peter¡¯s ¡°don¡¯t kill her¡± meant nothing, didn¡¯t it.


    Jessica stabbed Anya in the throat. This time it hurt quite a lot.