Chapter 2. The Bunker

Hayden   1889 A.E.G.

Andras proclaimed, “From the hammer that strikes the anvil to the bloodied hand that holds a sword, know that I find all these pleasing to my eyes and ears. One does not only find strength in fighting. How does a warrior fight without a sword in his hand and a shield in another? The weight of a whole village rests on the shoulders of their blacksmith to provide their tools. The architect must show strength of design in the walls of a city and in the churches that protect against the Chained Gods. Those who work with great strength, I gladly welcome into my kingdom.”

—The Gospel of Fire 7:10-15

	
	‘Come on, Andras. Give me a break here,’ Hayden thought as he gazed upon the bunker complex. It was shaped like two opposite staircases ascending to about five stories tall. The lower tiers sported anti-infantry weapons, machine gun turrets, and gatling weapons. Meanwhile, the upper tiers held mag-cannons built to swat away tanks. That is also not mentioning the numerous murder holes for the infantry inside.	The Ashuans must not have been too far behind, as the bunker’s weapons were running hot. Trenches ran from either side of the complex. They led to smaller defensive positions and more trenches, completing the defensive line. Ostrus troops populated the line, holding small arms or emplaced heavy weapons. Behind the defenses, Hayden saw the tracers of anti-aircraft weapons painting the skies. Hayden gripped his amulet for comfort.
	
	“The pilots are iced,” Corbin said. He looked stricken from the corpses on the floor.
	“Command tells us to continue the mission,” Lika relayed, his voice devoid of hope.
	Hayden rubbed at his face, “Can we expect any additional support?”
	“Already asked, no.”
	Amazing.
	Hayden’s body ached, like he had just run a marathon. Using craetus puts incredible strain on the body and mind. Using too much would put you on the ground or, worse, permanently break your craetus circuits.
	Hayden looked at his broken squad. “A deep tragedy has struck us today.” Hayden pointed to the bunker, “Their king took from us. Now I will be damned if we allow that to go unpunished. We are the finest the Ashuan Republic has to offer. We serve the Dragon. They worship a fucking gem.” Hayden felt their resolve steel. “We will give Angelo and Gus the proper pyre they deserve with the burning hulk of that bunker. We landed right in front of it, and we need to move before they decide to make sure we are dead.”
	“So what’s the plan, boss?” Aradrew spoke up.
	“Delani and I will be the distraction. She will create a smoke cover for your entrance on the left. Meanwhile, we will be as loud as possible, hopefully drawing all their metaphysicals away.”
	Justified or not, brightsouls thought themselves far superior than blanksouls. They would not trouble themselves with fending off an incursion of regulars when they had the opportunity to prove themselves against other metaphysicals. As much as Hayden may have liked to stay by his comrades, when brightsouls fought, a degree of collateral damage was to be expected. Delani’s face lost color.
	“Grab your gear; we leave in thirty seconds,” Hayden commanded. “When the smoke comes down, you run like your ex-wives found out you won the lottery!” He donned his helmet.
	“Oorah!” his squad responded. They ran about, grabbing their equipment. Hayden drew his red-and-black weld blade and moved to the wall of the dropship facing the bunker. He felt his heart race. This was it. Delani moved beside him.
	“Does the pressure ever lessen?” she asked.
	“No, but you find ways to deal,” Hayden answered. “When you find another brightsoul, keep them off-balance. Do not give them a second to think. Keep an attack in your mind and attack over and over. There is no time to engineer the perfect strike. Flair will get you killed. You are not at the level where your fights will last for minutes, and you need to craft some brilliant counterattack. Follow?”
	Delani nodded, a bit more confident. “I can do that. Have you fought one of them before?”
	Hayden drew his weld blade. The silver felt comfortable in his grip. With this, he felt like he could take on the mighty Drake himself. But he knew how absolutely brain-dead that sentiment was. “A few. It was how I acquired this lyshan crystal.” He raised the weld blade. “On your mark.” The dictums inscribed on the silver made the blade supernaturally durable and sharp. The hollow-marked dictum, however, was what made it special. With the mark, the sword could destroy any craetus it came into contact with, along with any other welds that didn’t also possess a hollow mark.
	
	Hayden’s squad gathered behind him. Delani closed her eyes. Raising her arms, craetus radiated off her as purple energy danced across her fingertips. The Captain sent craetus to his legs. He felt uncomfortable just standing. The pressure demanded he use the potential he harnessed. His spiderweb activated.
	“Go,” Delani said. With that word, Hayden made three quick slashes across the side of the ship. He kicked it open. Before the xanthium even hit the red dirt, Hayden was off.
	
	Hayden sprinted as fast as a car toward the right trench. Simultaneously a wall of purple smoke erupted across the ground to the left side of the bunker complex. Hayden couldn’t look back. He had to trust them to do their job. Now he had to do his.
	
	Each stride devoured distance. The Ostrus noticed him. With shouts of alarm, the infantry turned their guns toward him. In conjunction with his speed and spiderweb, Hayden wasn’t targetable by mere humans. Time slowed and then sped back up like snapshots. Hayden sidestepped one stream of magnetically accelerated bullets. They buzzed by his ear like angry insects. Hayden immediately got low, one leg in front, digging into the Vaemian soil, while the other was behind him. More projectiles flew by overhead. It was a deadly dance with death, and Hayden was leading. He felt a smile crease his face. Hayden pushed himself back up. He locked on his first target, one of the dozen Ostrus infantries occupying the trench. He wore armor similar to Hayden’s Ashuan counterparts, colored a dirty red to match the Vaemian dirt. Panicking, the soldier fired his rifle at Hayden.
	
	Hayden’s weld blade zipped forward, deflecting what bullets that could have struck him. Sparks burst upon his sword. He leapt forward at the perfect arc to enter the trench. The soldier did not track him properly. Sword in both hands, Hayden brought it down on the head of his enemy. Supernatural silver easily parted metal and bone. He rode the corpse down to the ground. The door to the bunker complex was to his left. Eight soldiers were to his right. Not wasting a millisecond, Hayden formed a pistol in his free hand. Bulky and thick, it was more of a hand cannon than anything else. He stood and pointed it at the Ostrus soldiers. Hayden pulled the trigger several times, the recoil bucking his arm. Craetus bolts tore through multiple soldiers at once, blasting off limbs and chunks of flesh. Eight dead men fell to the ground.
	
	Hayden turned to the bunker complex. He felt multiple craetus signatures approaching him. Perfect. The door leading into the building was heavily reinforced, at least a couple hundred pounds in weight. Why waste the effort of busting it open when they were going to be so nice as to open it for him? Hayden crouched low, ready to pounce. But first, he sent craetus to coat the outside of the door—a surprise for later.
	
	The entrance to the bunker burst open. Hayden saw two metaphysicals in the doorway. They did not wear helmets that covered their faces. They were confident, ready to prove their superiority. The first one ran at him. A half-dome craetus shield of diamond covered the assailant from the front. The other prepared a ranged attack, taking advantage of the time offered by his comrade. Hayden waited for the exact moment the second brightsoul stepped right at the entrance. With a mental command, the craetus coating on the door became explosive. With a crack of thunder and a billow of dust, the door slammed shut. The second metaphysical didn’t have time to blink before the hunk of metal slammed in his face. Hayden only saw a faint mist of red and an amputated arm fall to the ground, as the connection point was pinched by the closing door.
	Now the other.
	
	The first metaphysical came to a kneel, intending for his partner to shoot over him. In a small sense, it was heartwarming to Hayden that these two had such faith in each other. Their plan might have worked if they were actually good.. Hayden sprinted forward. Surprise went over the enemy’s face, as nothing attacked Hayden. The weld blade sliced horizontal. The hollow mark did its work. The sword passed through the craetus and then his neck as easily as air. The craetus shield went out. Head and body tumbled to the ground.
	
	Those two were victims of the most common disease afflicting metaphysicals: arrogance. Ironically, brightsouls were some of the least creative people out there. Likely, those two never could’ve imagined a mere door used against them. They never thought the six seconds of preparation Hayden had could be used for anything worthwhile. A dangerous metaphysical would have searched for even the smallest trace of craetus.
	
	Hayden’s amulet seemed to increase in temperature. A thought entered his head . . . behind.
	
	He turned around with supernatural speed, bringing his weld blade to bear. Just in time. A heat beam aimed down the trench right at him. Hayden’s sword sliced it down the middle. The energy dissipated as it came into contact with the silver. Hayden cursed himself. Another metaphysical had concealed her craetus signature and snuck up on him. The brightsoul had her arm outstretched. She was about thirty feet away and did not advance. She knew he had the advantage at close range and that backup would be here shortly. She was focused, her remaining arm ready for whatever he might do.
	
	Hayden’s other arm moved up, aiming his craetus pistol. Five bolts went downrange. The bolts shattered on her newly created shield, forcing her to take a step back. He wasn’t worried about overwhelming her. However, he was already drained and had to consider the others he would have to fight. But Hayden didn’t need to worry. A thin tendril of craetus from beyond the trenches reached out and grasped around a mag-60, a heavy machine gun. It spun around and pointed at his enemy. The machine gun roared, spitting out dozens of projectiles. Each impact rocked the brightsoul, sending cracks down the shield until it shattered. The metaphysical barely had a second of life before her mangled body hit the ground.
	
	Hayden turned to Delani jumping into the trench. She pressed her back to the wall of the structure. Her breath was heavy. He smiled at her resourcefulness. Perhaps he could make a metaphysical out of her yet. He went over to her, putting his hand on her shoulder.
	“Great work. Grab the weapons off those soldiers. I’ll play defense; mow down anyone you see. If we encounter any metaphysicals, pressure them, and I’ll handle the rest,” Hayden said.
	Delani gave a jerky set of nods, “You got it.” The first kill was never easy. But now was not the time. She stood back up. From her back extended six ropes of craetus. They each wrapped around a rifle before coming back to her. The weapons floated around her like the threatening display of a beast.
	
	Hayden and Delani stacked at the door. “Keep one alive,” he told her. The Captain opened his senses and made sure there was no craetus at the door. He dismissed his pistol. The weapon dissolved into bits of purple light before he formed a flash-bang in his hand. Hayden cracked the door open. He threw it inside. A second passed before the loud compression of sound resounded throughout the space. Hayden threw the door open. Inside, he saw ten men. Several were posted at the narrow, horizontal slit that allowed them to shoot outside. Stacks of supplies in crates covered the opposite end. A small square table sat in the middle, where a comm device sat on top. An officer, identifiable by his dress uniform, crouched near it. Two of the soldiers were in the process of dragging away the corpse of the first brightsoul Hayden killed. Many covered their eyes.
	
	All six of Delani’s guns opened up. Those inside did not have a prayer. Man after man went down with new cavities in their bodies. They were panicked, disorganized. Whatever shots did come their way, Hayden easily deflected with his weld blade. Sparks from ricocheting bullets ignited all around them. In the space of less than two seconds, it was over.
	The officer had crouched down low behind the table—coward. Hayden advanced on him. The officer fumbled for the pistol on his hip. That was before the Captain’s hand formed a vice-like grip on his neck. Using craetus to strengthen himself, Hayden lifted the officer by his neck. The man flailed in his grip.
	“You are going to run off and find all of your metaphysical friends. Tell them I have come to challenge and kill them all. We will meet them here,” Hayden said. He tossed the officer toward the sole door out of the room. The man landed with little grace before scrambling to his feet. He threw the door open, sprinting through it. They had less than a minute before the brightsouls would arrive. Hayden was not worried about regulars coming to interrupt him. They would have to be exceptionally suicidal to rush a pair of metaphysicals.
	“Reload your weapons, and help me find what grenades you can,” Hayden said, moving with a purpose to look over the bodies.
	“What trap are we going to set for them?” Delani asked, as she moved to replenish her stockpile.
	“None.”
	She paused, “What? They are our enemies. They would not hesitate to do the same. We need all the advantages we can get.”
	Hayden let out a breath, “We challenged them, Delani. This is more than a conflict between nations and just killing. By being underhanded, by using dirty tricks, that is weakness. With weakness, conflict becomes vengeful and barbaric. By being followers of Andras, it is up to us to show strength and not devolve to those levels. We bring justice, not vengeance. We use cunning, not subterfuge.” Hayden had scrounged four grenades.
	Delani tossed him two more. That should be more than enough. Delani huffed, “Andras isn’t going to bring back my city, nor is he going to swoop down and smite our enemies for us. Staying alive remains the better option, especially against these assholes.”
	Hayden laughed. He connected all the grenades together by a ribbon of craetus before attaching the contraption to his back. Hayden made another set of strings attached to the firing pins of the explosives, fixing it to a different point on his back. Once he threw the contraption, it should pull off all the pins at once.	
	“Believe me, I know it’s not an easy position to have, but it is why it is worth having. I have heard plenty of it already from my team. I should actually be a Major, but I got demoted when I refused to destroy a factory with the workers still inside. Would have completely destroyed my career normally, but they can’t exactly get rid of a useful brightsoul.” His ideals were how Hayden managed to stay sane through it all. Even when he lost so much, he could hold onto those.
	Delani looked at him before turning toward the door. Hayden took position next to her. “When I throw this, make sure to protect yourself,” he said. Hayden could feel the presence of three metaphysicals approaching. They made no attempt to hide themselves as they came near. It was a show of intimidation. And it worked. Hayden sensed two of them were quite powerful. Delani was inexperienced, and he had maybe 15 percent left in him before he collapsed. While it did daunt him, Hayden was not afraid. His heart raced with excitement. He could already imagine the warm afterglow of his triumph. He felt alive.
	
	The enemy approached.
	
	Three brightsouls quickly filed into the room. They did not wear armor, merely black uniforms with orange highlights, denoting them as belonging to a metaphysical company. Hayden recognized the color scheme but could not remember the name. The two on the left were the ones who worried him. They appeared vaguely similar, likely brothers. The goatee of the middle one and the mutton chops of the metaphysical on the very left were both well-groomed. They wore officer caps and sharp eyes that marked their discipline and refinement. What worried Hayden, though, were the welds they carried. Both held hollow-marked weapons. Mutton Chops carried a pair of hollow-marked daggers. Meanwhile, Goatee held a spear in one hand and a hollow-marked circular shield attached to the side of his arm. Like with anything, there were trade-offs to this setup.
	
	
	Those two put almost all their cards into using their weld gear. One could do many things with a weld beyond a hollow mark. It was considered best practice to only have one hollow-marked weld because anything more severely limited the user’s versatility. Two or more hollow marks in the same area resulted in them interacting with each other. It increased the anti-craetus field around the weld. This translated to a boost in effectiveness of the weld, but it also meant the user could not channel their own craetus out from those areas. That was why no one wore hollow-marked weld armor. One could do it, but it meant the wearer could not even use their power to empower their own muscles. These two leaned fully into taking down other metaphysicals. Hayden could tell they had experienced much success based on the fact they had two welds each. Hayden flexed his free hand in anticipation.
	“You take the one on the right,” Hayden whispered to Delani.
	Goatee straightened his cap, “Awfully polite of you to invite us here like this. Most Ashuans would just attack us, frothing at the mouth.”
	“Guess you could just call us special,” Hayden said.
	Goatee rolled his shoulders, “Maybe. I guess we should get to killing each other. Shall we?”
	“Let’s.” Hayden sprinted forward. Mutton Chops ran forward to meet him. But he was not Hayden’s destination. Hayden kicked the table over, taking cover behind it. Right as his shoulder hit the metal, he grasped his contraption. Hayden threw it right over the head of Mutton Chops, pins all coming free. Hayden formed a craetus shield around himself. It was quick and dirty.
	
	A deafening roar reverberated throughout the room as all six grenades went off. Hayden’s ears rang. The clangs of the shrapnel against xancrete added onto the chaos. Hayden’s shield barely held. It looked like someone had thrown a rock against a window. But Hayden needed to keep up the momentum. He stood up and took in all the relevant information.
	Mutton Chops lay immobile, slumped against a wall. His mouth was open, half of his face missing. A steady flow of blood ran down to his lap. Goatee had gotten off fairly unscathed, having properly used his weld shield.
	Hayden empowered his leg. He kicked at the table. It flew toward Goatee, pinning him against the wall. He grunted in pain. Hayden formed his craetus pistol, aiming at Goatee’s head. Three shots screamed across. His enemy quickly moved his shield. The bolts disintegrated upon impact. With a yell of rage, Goatee kicked the table off him before impaling it with his spear like a fish. He built momentum by spinning around before throwing the object at Hayden. He sliced the table down the middle.
	
	Goatee’s shield filled Hayden’s vision next.
	
	Pain exploded across his face, and stars danced along his eyes. Hayden’s sword barely came back in time to push away Goatee’s follow-up strike with the spear. The Captain ditched his pistol. Goatee thrust with the weld spear over and over. Hayden dodged and deflected to the best of his ability. However, his opponent still cut burning lines across his arms and legs with his spear. Any counterattack he tried, Goatee easily deflected with his shield. Hayden bled all over. Goatee was handedly winning this war of attrition. Hayden needed space. Why in Utopia did he agree to have this fight in such a confined area?
	
	Hayden tried to jump over Goatee, but he saw it coming. A slash of the spear sent Hayden flying into a nearby wall. All the air left Hayden’s lungs as his back hit the bunker. Everything hurt. He could barely move his limbs. Terror struck his heart as Goatee charged him, shield raised high. Hayden attempted to parry the thrust. However, a quick slash down his wrist, and a small circular motion of the spear sent his sword flying away. Goatee thrust the spear at Hayden’s heart.
	
	The Captain caught the haft of the spear with his good hand.
	
	Hayden used the last bit of his strength, but he had slowed it down. The weld still crawled toward his heart.
	“Have some fight left in you? Good, I want to know the name of the man who killed my brother,” Goatee snarled. He looked as if he were about to bite Hayden’s nose off.
	Hayden indulged; he needed the moments. “Hayden,” he gasped out. He still had one more weapon, his rifle on his back. It pointed straight up. Hayden spared a glance toward the ceiling as a tendril of craetus extended out of his back toward the trigger. The tip of the spear pierced past his armor into his skin.
	“Then you will know my name, the one who will reap your sins. I am Myers Fanel, Second Cap—”
	“Save it for your tombstone,” Hayden interrupted. He pulled the trigger as he leaned his head forward. The yell of the mag-rifle deafened Hayden’s hearing. Most of the bullets hit the roof and bounced far away from Myers, but one did hit. One projectile went straight down into Myer’s spear arm. Strength left the limb. Hayden seized the opportunity. He wrenched the spear from Myers’s grip. Hayden slammed the shaft into the side of Myer’s head. He staggered away. The Captain formed a wrist-mounted gun. The staccato beats of the gun roared as he shot at Myers. Goatee deflected them easily enough until one shot hit him in the shin, sending him down onto one knee. Hayden saw the change in Myers’s eyes. He knew he had lost. A craetus splint formed around the injured leg of Myers, and he sprinted toward the door leading outside. Hayden tracked him as best he could, but his shots went wide.
	
	The door flew open, and Myers escaped his vision. Hayden collapsed to one knee.