Having finally reached the ground level – a fact that, given the enclosed space, could only be gleaned from a sign in the staircase – Brian began to notice more and more signs of the war the old man from before had mentioned.
He was currently standing in a large central corridor, with many smaller corridors and rooms
branching off from it, like capillaries from an artery. Even here, away from the front lines, it was difficult to spot anywhere not dedicated to the war effort, with many of the rooms serving as storage for ammunition and other supplies or makeshift hospitals, their original purpose a mystery.
Everyone present was, of course, human, which was no longer a surprise at this point, all wearing khaki military uniforms. At least, that's what Brian assumed they were, given that the last time he'd such clothes was in a Scadrian military museum. What was a surprise were the few people not wearing uniforms, or anything at all – they looked more machine than man, with even more extensive cybernetics than the thugs he'd dispatched earlier. However, there was something… off about the machine-men. Maybe it was how they seemed completely mindless, responding only to basic verbal commands, their movements jerky and artificial as they pushed a container of artillery shells? Or maybe it was the tubes of liquid piercing their skin, unclear in their purpose, which seemed like an excellent way to cause infection in a normal person.
Are those robots, Brian? Nightblood asked, noticing what Brian had been staring at – he still wasn't sure how the sword did that.
"To be honest… I'm beginning to think they are", Brian replied, the words not doing justice to the disgust coursing through him. "Harmony sent us here to get rid of whatever was causing these people so much suffering… now I'm beginning to wonder how much of that is self-inflicted."
You shouldn't judge everyone by the actions of a few, Brian. We didn't see any robot-people in the marketplace, now did we?
"I suppose", Brian muttered, wondering at what point a talking sword had become the voice of reason.
Think of it this way; we've already reduced these people's suffering by getting rid of those men in the dark blue and bronze Shardplate we saw earlier. This place clearly has a lot of problems, you can't expect to solve them overnight.
"I… yeah, I guess you've got a good point there, Nightblood", Brian replied, genuinely grateful for his weapon's input. "You know, I'm not sure you were always so articulate."
It's difficult to explain, Brian. I've felt my mind… expand over time. I think it must be related to all the investiture I've consumed over the years. For instance, the joke I made when we first arrived here… that isn't something I would've been capable of when I was first made. At some point since then, I gained an understanding of what humour is. Of how saying something unexpected in a certain way can make people laugh.
"As I recall, it didn't make me laugh."
That's only because you're such a stick in the mud, Brian.
"Now there's no need to get personal, Nightblood", Brian said, unable to suppress his laughter at that.
I'm glad I made you laugh, Brian. You should do it more often.
"Yeah, well, I guess I haven't been in many laugh-worthy situations lately", Brian replied, having calmed down. "Well anyway, we should get outside and see what's what."
With that, Brian set off along the corridor, heading in the direction of distant explosion sounds. Everyone that noticed him gave him strange looks, but he ignored them; he wasn't going to waste time explaining himself to everyone.
After a few minutes of walking, by which time the sunlight had just about become visible at the end of the corridor, there was another Shardplate-clad giant, like the Night Lords he'd killed earlier. There were significant differences though; this one seemed even larger, maybe just under nine feet tall, and his armour, while less ornate, seemed a bit more high-tech than theirs. The most obvious difference was the decoration, being bright yellow, with a red double-headed eagle adorning the breastplate, and the image of an upward-punching fist on the shoulderguard.
"You there, what are you doing up here?" the giant snapped upon spotting Brian. "All civilians are supposed to be taking shelter in the centre of the city!"
"I'm not a civilian, friend", Brian replied, unintimidated. "In fact I'm here to help."
"Is that so?" the giant said, clearly sceptical.
"Yes actually. In fact I've already helped you by taking care of some bad guys that snuck past your defences."
"Really? Who?", the giant said, having transitioned from mere scepticism to incredulity.
"Some guys that wore armour kind of like yours, only dark blue and bronze, with a kind of… bat-winged skull motif. They called themselves the Night Lords." To be on the safe side, Brian both soothed the giant's scepticism, and rioted his sense of alarm. It had the desired effect.
"What? There are Night Lords in the city?!" he replied, his face having turned white.
"Not anymore, friend. Sixty-two floors down, in a side room just off the main staircase, I found them torturing some civilians, something I took offence to… fatally for them. If you don't believe me, their bodies should still be down there."
The yellow-armoured giant narrowed his eyes at Brian, before gazing at Nightblood hanging from his belt. To be fair, Brian hardly looked like a fighter, still wearing his brown leather jacket, blue jeans, bright red t-shirt, and trainers. The only thing setting him apart from anyone else was his weapon.
"I'm willing to believe you, for now, if only because how unlikely it is you would know the name Night Lords and be able to accurately describe them. But I'm still sceptical of how much use you'll be on a battlefield."
"More than none, friend, and it seems you're not really in a position to refuse aid, no matter how unlikely the source", Brian replied, now rioting the giant's willingness to agree.
"I suppose you have a point. Anyone capable of killing Space Marines would be of use, if only as a distraction."
"I'm glad you agree, friend", Brian replied, mentally taking note of the fact that the giants were known as Space Marines. "How can I help?"
"This city is under siege by the Iron Warriors", the Space Marine replied. "My brothers have manned the defences and are holding the line, but without reinforcements it's only a matter of time before they are overwhelmed."
"So you want me to go out there and fuck 'em up, right?"
"Not how I'd have chosen to put it, but yes."
Brian nodded. "So how will I know these… Iron Warriors when I see them?"
"You mean aside from the fact they'll be shooting at you?" the Space Marine said with a raised eyebrow. "They typically wear their armour brown and grey, with black and yellow stripes."
"All right then. You tell your brothers not to shoot at me, and I'll do the rest", Brian said.
Seeing the yellow-armoured giant nod in the affirmative, and start talking into a radio-looking thing, Brian continued down the corridor. Whereas he'd previously walked, now he ran, Allomantic pewter boosting his speed far beyond even the fastest normal human. He no longer felt the need to keep a low profile – after all, what he was about to do would draw attention in a far more spectacular way.
-x-x-x-x-
It wasn't long before he reached the end of the corridor. There were more yellow-armoured warriors here, taking cover behind concrete barriers, some of them manning an enormous artillery gun. They were blocking most of the exit, the only way out indicated by a thin patch of blue sky above them. It was fortunate that an Allomancer wasn't limited to only moving in two dimensions.
Storing his weight in a half-empty ironmind, Brian burned steel, pushing on the metals in the floor, launching himself high into the sky. He barely heard the shouts of alarm from below as he soared, surveying the battlefield below him. It wasn't really what he'd expected; on the city side, he made out more yellow specks, taking cover behind metal and concrete fortifications, the few not using emplaced weapons attempting to snipe at their foes with their bulky rifles.
Far stranger was the attacking side; less than a mile away, Brian saw thousands of warriors with hazard stripes decorating their oversized shoulder guards, hiding in zigzagging trenches of all things. Behind the trenches were bizarre looking armoured vehicles, vaguely resembling tanks Brian had seen in museums, some partially concealed behind piles of dirt, firing back at the yellow-armoured defenders. The brown and grey attackers had their own artillery as well, further back from the trenches, attempting to blast holes in the colossal city behind him.
Strangest of all was the centrepiece of the attacker's war machines; it was bipedal, taller than a ten-storey building, with the same brown, grey and hazard stripe design as the troops it towered over. On each arm was a different weapon, of a kind Brian had never seen before; one seemed to be some sort of giant laser cannon, powerful enough to blind him each time it fired, depleting his goldminds ever so slightly as his retinas grew back. The city wasn't so lucky, being left with holes glowing red with molten metal at the points of impact.
The other arm weapon was, if anything, even more destructive, launching glowing balls of bright-blue plasma at the defenders, at least what was left of them. On the metal giant's shoulders were more laser cannons, although seemingly less powerful than the arm-mounted version. The strange part was not the weapons, they were expected; it was everything else. For some reason, the war machine had a vaguely human-shaped head, mounted on the machine's 'chest'. Even weirder was the brightly decorated banner hanging between its legs, a stark contrast to the utilitarian design of the rest of the thing.
You should probably focus on the biggest machines first, Brian. They'll be the most destructive, said Nightblood, drawing Brian's attention back to the present. It also made him realise what an excellent target he was, high in the sky. It was when a stray shot passed right in front of him that he began burning steel, ready to push away any stray bullets.
Grunting in acknowledgement to his sword, Brian burned iron, pulling himself towards the bipedal war machine. It didn't react to his presence, even as he was right in front of it, either not noticing or not realising what a threat he was. It was when Brian got within ten metres of it that he came to a sudden stop, like he'd just flown into a brick wall.
Sliding down the invisible barrier, he just barely noticed a sort of outline against it, looking vaguely like… energy, solidified into a solid barrier.
Come on, destroy it! Nightblood said, as Brian landed in front of the big walking thing.
Brian?
"They have force fields", Brian replied, momentarily stunned.
What?
"This makes literally zero fucking sense. You know Scadrial is by far the most technologically advanced civilisation in the Cosmere, Nightblood, at least that we know of. Yet the people here… they have technology that even we would've considered the stuff of science fiction. They have giant fucking laser guns and force fields, alongside trench warfare and chemical explosives, stuff that was obsolete to us centuries ago. Judging by their armour, they don't seem to have invented camouflage, either."
As fascinating as it is to consider what technological path these people must have travelled, can we focus on killing the bad guys, before they notice us?
With that breaking Brian's reverie, he considered his options. The obvious thing to do would've been to push outwards on the war machine's legs, breaking them. The problem, of course, was the laws of physics. The machine was so much heavier than Brian, that any attempt at pushing would launch him backwards instead. He could overcome this by increasing his weight, but he was currently doing the opposite, in order to not sink into the thick mud.
"Looks like I'm gonna need your help here, Nightblood" Brian said, drawing his sword for the first time since his arrival in this new universe.
Do it, Brian! This is what I was made for!
Brian ran towards one of the war machine's legs, pulling Nightblood from its sheath. The second it was free, Brian was swallowed by an aura of deepened colour, drawn in by the jet-black blade. The brown mud underfoot turned almost black, while the hazard stripes on the war machine's leg darkened as well, the yellow turning a deep gold, and the black stripes darkening even further, becoming silhouettes.
Though Brian couldn't have known it, the leg in front of him belonged to a Warlord-class battle titan. Armoured in a ceramite-adamantium composite several feet thick, further reinforced by the Iron Warrior's mastery of warp-infused technology, it was durable beyond human comprehension, the sort of thing that could only hope to be damaged, let alone destroyed, by another battle titan.
Against Nightblood, it may as well have been wet tissue paper.
The moment it touched Nightblood's edge, the lower portion of the titan's leg instantly evaporated, turning into black smoke that quickly faded to nothing, itself made of pure investiture. The deafening sound of screeching metal emanated from the rest of the titan as it tried in vain to retain its balance, before crashing into the earth, its remaining leg lying at an awkward angle. Unsure if it could still shoot, Brian swung again, this time at the titan's body, a perfect hemisphere of metal and ceramite forty feet wide ceasing to exist, exposing its innards, a mess of cables and other electrical gizmos pouring out. Brian kept swinging, destroying another portion of the titan each time, until he eventually reached the thing's head.
With the inside now exposed, Brian saw what had to be the machine's pilot. It might have originally been human, with two arms, legs, and a head, but now it was mutated almost beyond recognition. Dozens of tubes connected it to the inside of a glass tank filled with a translucent liquid. The rest of its body was covered with various multicoloured tentacles, eyeballs, mouths, and wings, arranged haphazardly over its skin. Despite its many eyes, it didn't even seem to notice Brian approaching, the eyes blankly staring off into space, the titan's pilot clearly used to only looking through the machine's sensors. Another swing from Nightblood removed the abomination from existence.
Only the titan's leg and arms remained, strewn about on the battlefield, like an enormous child having broken its favourite toy in a temper tantrum. Satisfied it was out of commission, Brian looked up to notice some of the Iron Warriors not in the trenches. They weren't shooting, instead just staring in shock at the remains of their most potent war machine, having been destroyed with casual ease.
They were pulled out of their stupor by a stray bolt round fired at Brian. Howling in fury at the destruction of their prized battle titan, the Iron Warriors opened fire, but to no avail. Brian was already burning steel, pushing away the bolt rounds before they touched him, the increased speed of thought from his zincminds allowing him to react to the hypersonic projectiles as they came. Still burning pewter, and now tapping physical speed from his steelminds, Brian sprinted towards his assailants, Nightblood still in hand, the bubble of deepened colour following him. One of them actually tried to block with his own melee weapon, a strange chainsaw-sword thing, but to no avail. The sword disappeared in a puff of smoke the moment it touched Nightblood's blade, followed immediately afterwards by the Space Marine holding it.
Despite the clear futility of their efforts, the Iron Warriors kept shooting, refusing to surrender, with Brian subsequently removing them from existence. His pondering of how their leaders commanded such loyalty, even in the face of certain death, was cut short by another war machine in front of him, this one a tank. It was far larger than what he'd seen in museums back home, presumably operated by Space Marines, and was armed with a weapon with a strange oval-shaped muzzle, firing orange beams of energy.
Yet another example of these people's technological superiority, Brian thought – something that he had plenty of subjective time for, despite being in the middle of a battlefield, courtesy of his zincminds. Necessity was the mother of invention, he supposed; after all, Scadrial hadn't seen a full-scale war in centuries, and what conflicts had arisen since then were resolved with deception and intrigue, not force of arms. Of course the invention of Allomancy-powered faster-than-light travel and subsequent expansion into the wider Cosmere had brought Scadrial into contact with the natives of other planets, sometimes fatally for them. Not that the 'wars' fought between Scadrian corporations and pre-gunpowder societies did much for technological progress.
Whatever technology the tank had wasn't enough to save it from Nightblood; its Iron Warrior crew did not evaporate however, instead falling to the ground, their vehicle disappearing from under them. Their shouts of surprise were cut short by their own introduction to Brian's blade.
By this point the rest of the Iron Warriors had noticed Brian's presence. Naturally, they reacted with hostility, forgetting whatever targets they had previously been shooting at to focus on him, though none succeeded, Steelpushes preventing any bolt shells from getting near him. Strangely, even the other vehicle and artillery crews had abandoned their positions to join in – perhaps not wanting their valuable war machines to go the same way as the tank and titan.
One of them was charging Brian despite what he'd just seen, clad in Terminator armour, wielding a rapid-firing double-barrelled gun in one hand, and an enormous hammer in the other. Brian was about to do to him what he'd just done to the tank, however this Space Marine was smart enough not to attack directly, instead swinging his hammer down onto the ground in front of him. Brian was caught off-guard by the unexpected shockwave that emanated from where the hammer struck the ground, launching him backwards with enough force to cause him to drop Nightblood. This wasn't helped by the fact that Brian was still keeping his weight low, causing him to be launched even further than normal. Thinking quickly, Brian burned iron, pulling on the Space Marine's armour, propelling himself down and forward, right into the path of the Marine's hammer. Still burning steel, Brian gave the armoured hand holding the hammer a push, forcing it backwards before it could hit him. Shielded from the others' shots by the bulky warrior in front of him, Brian grabbed the hammer's handle, and pulled, tapping his pewterminds as he did so.
"Surprisingly strong, for a mortal", the Iron Warrior growled, desperately trying to hold on.
"What makes you think I'm a mortal, friend?" Brian replied with a mirthless grin. The combined strength gained from both Allomantic and Feruchemical pewter was more than enough to overpower the Marine, wrenching the hammer from his grip before swinging at his leg. Now devoid of his own melee weapon, the Space Marine was unable to block or avoid the blow, even Terminator armour unable to protect against a thunder hammer wielded by Brian's investiture-enhanced body.
He grunted in pain, any other reaction cut short by Brian sending another swing towards his head – he swung sideways, ensuring the shower of gore that resulted was directed away from him.
With that taken care of, Brian dropped the hammer. It wasn't a bad weapon, but its large mass kept pulling him off balance, not helped by his own reduced weight. He went to retrieve Nightblood, before noticing the commotion that had resulted from someone else beating him to it, which explained why no-one was currently shooting at him.
At the same moment that Brian had been launched backwards, another one of the Iron Warriors rushed forward, hoping to claim the jet-black sword for themselves. However, the Marine could not have known what happened when someone evil – or at least, someone that the sword considered evil – tried wielding it.
As soon as the Marine's hand closed around Nightblood's hilt, he was overcome by an unnatural bloodlust. Sent into a frenzy, he turned the blade upon his comrades, roaring incoherently and frothing at the mouth under his helmet, his arm turning black as it consumed his soul. Shouts of alarm came from his fellows as one of their own unexpectedly turned on them, opening fire on the Marine, but with Nightblood enhancing his already supernatural strength and speed, he was still able to cut three of them down, turning them into puffs of smoke, before going down. The survivors, noticing how the arm holding the sword had completely turned black, forced themselves to ignore the unnatural feelings of being drawn to the sword, a side effect of it considering them evil as well.
This had taken Nightblood out of Brian's reach, however. With Iron Warriors in-between him and his weapon, forcing him to burn steel continuously to deflect bolt shells, he briefly thought back to the Night Lords he'd killed earlier, when it suddenly occurred to him there was another way of dealing with the Marines.
Once again burning iron, Brian focused on the helmet of the closest Iron Warrior, simultaneously pushing on the front, and pulling on the back, pancaking the Marine's head. He did this twice more before the survivors, realising he could kill them at range, and that he no longer had a sword, charged at Brian, trying to overwhelm him with numbers. Their lack of knowledge of his powers caused them to make a mistake, however; with them having moved past Nightblood lying on the ground, Brian pushed on the trace metals in the earth, launching himself into the air and over the heads of the Iron Warriors. Landing next to his weapon, and wanting to get the fight over with as quickly as possible, Brian sprinted towards his enemies, tapping his steelminds.
Back on Scadrial, Steel Feruchemy was one of the most coveted invested powers, and for good reason – no amount of skill could allow someone to overcome an opponent ten times faster than them, let alone a hypersonic one. Steelminds were notoriously slow and difficult to recharge though, attempting to move while doing so was often compared to wading through molasses. Brian's ease of doing so was yet another advantage he had over normal Feruchemists.
He was still limited by the capacity of his steelminds of course, which was why he rarely went above twenty times normal speed. Even that allowed him to cut down the hostile Space Marines with trivial ease, managing to avoid being hit despite not bothering to push away their weapons.
With no-one currently attacking him, Brian sheathed Nightblood, taking stock of his situation.
How many people did we just kill, Brian? Nightblood asked – for some reason, it never remembered what happened while unsheathed.
"Dunno. A few dozen? A hundred? Maybe more? I was a bit too busy to keep count."
So just today, you've already killed far more than you did in total back in the Cosmere?
"I guess that's just what's required around here", Brian replied, shrugging. "All I'll say is, thank fuck for Feruchemical electrum."
There's still more Iron Warriors in the trenches, I'm afraid.
"I know. No rest for the wicked, eh?", Brian said with a sigh.
Brian hadn't intended to have a conversation in the middle of a battlefield, but for whatever reason, the rate at which Nightblood drained investiture increased the longer it was unsheathed. He did it purely to conserve his metalminds.
Jumping down into the nearest trench, ready to draw Nightblood once again, Brian was surprised to see the Iron Warriors were just standing there, not attacking or even looking particularly aggressive.
Maybe they saw what you did to their friends? Nightblood suggested.
Brian just grunted in response, not wanting to be seen talking to himself. Instead he said, "You know how little threat you are to me, which I assume is why you're not attacking. You could save me a lot of hassle by just surrendering instead."
The nearest Space Marine, who was leaning against the side of the trench, arms crossed, just snorted in response. "Sure, I could surrender, only to be captured by the Corpse-Emperor's slaves, and then who knows what horrors I'd be in for? I think on balance, I'd rather have a quick death by your blade."
"Suit yourself. At least pick up your weapon, so you can go down fighting."
The Space Marine nodded, grabbing his chainsaw-sword unenthusiastically, but he didn't attack. Wondering if this was an attempt at trickery, Brian took no chances, tapping his steelminds once again. His opponent barely tried to defend himself, simply raising his weapon to block, it disappearing as soon as it touched Nightblood's edge, quickly followed by the Marine holding it.
Brian was about to give the next Iron Warrior the same treatment, only to be preempted by a bolt round burying itself into his head. Above the trench stood the yellow-armoured Space Marine who had just fired it. This drew Brian's attention to others who had done the same thing.
Figuring the battle must be over, at least for the moment, Brian sheathed Nightblood, and pushed on the trench floor, launching himself back to ground level. Sure enough, what Iron Warriors remained had been dealt with by the guys in yellow.
One of them approached Brian, holding a strange gun with the mid-portion glowing bright blue, presumably another plasma weapon, though far smaller than the one the titan had wielded.
"You there, our Captain wishes to speak with you", he said shortly, though not rudely.
"Lead on, friend", Brian replied, suspecting he knew what the conversation would be about.
They walked in silence, the battlefield sounding almost eerily quiet without anyone shooting. It wasn't long before Brian found himself standing before the captain. At least he assumed it was the captain; the basic design of his armour was the same as the others, bright yellow with a red double-headed eagle on the chestplate, except it was ludicrously ornate, garish even, with not a single undecorated surface.
"I see you distracted the Iron Warriors", the captain said.
"Yep. It won't last though, that tank and the giant walking thing will recover from the distraction pretty soon", Brian replied, wondering how else to respond to such an obvious statement.
The captain let out a bark of laughter. "Indeed. I must thank you, warrior, your distraction gave us ample opportunity to launch a counterattack. In addition, Battle-Brother Adon told me of your exploits against the Night Lords within the city. Many lives have been saved by your actions this day."
"You're welcome I guess, though you'll be disappointed to learn I'm no warrior, friend. I'm just a guy with a fancy sword."
"I see", the captain replied, gazing down at Nightblood, looking a bit uneasy as he did so, before banishing the look from his face. "It doesn't matter. Anyone willing to take the fight to the enemy is good enough for me."
"I'm glad to know you think that, friend. My name's Brian by the way. Brian Dagouter."
"And mine is Darnath Lysander, first Captain of the Imperial Fists first company."
"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Captain. So, er… what happens now?"
"Thanks to your aid, we have a free moment to further reinforce the defences of Hyperia. I do not have a full picture of the defence's status elsewhere on Vigilus however, so if you wish to keep helping, you should seek out Marneus Calgar, Chapter Master of the Ultramarines. He's co-ordinating the overall defence."
"Fair enough. Where can I find him?"
"He's at the summit of this hive city. I'll arrange for a message to be sent for him to expect you. Once he's learned of your exploits, I'm sure he'll be glad to meet with you."
"Thanks for that. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a giant tower to climb", Brian said, turning back towards the city.
Looking up, he couldn't even see the top of the 'hive-city', as the captain had called it, soaring well above the clouds. He didn't relish the thought of climbing yet more stairs… Fortunately, there was a quicker way.
Pushing on the floor, and pulling on some metal of a higher floor, Brian began his ascent of the colossal tower.
AN:
So this is, by far, the longest fight scene I've ever written. For whatever reason, I find them a lot harder to write than, say, conversations. That's part of the reason why this chapter took so much longer, the other reasons being procrastination and having a bad cold for 2 weeks that left me feeling like not doing anything.
Also, I realised I made a slight error in the last chapter. Nightblood doesn't drain colours while unsheathed, instead it deepens them. However I originally misinterpreted 'deepens colour' as 'desaturates'. Thanks to Tired Titaness for pointing that out.
Incidentally, Nightblood also has another effect while unsheathed; instead of talking coherently, it'll start screaming at the person wielding them to destroy. I decided to not bring that up, as I felt it would just be distracting. It might become a plot point at some point though.