Far in the Eastern Ridge was a slaughterhouse waiting to happen.
General Twelve, Vruk, stood in the center of the clearing, his four massive, obsidian-plated arms flexing. He towered over the squad, a monument of violet muscle and malice. He didn't rush. He simply watched them, his six violet eyes blinking in an unsettling, asynchronous rhythm.
Facing him were the remnants of the joint task force: Bronx, Krog, Tag, Skarrin, and five Virefang Knights.
They were a mess. The Virefangs' sleek armor was gouged and dented, their chests heaving as they fought to cycle their stamina. The Ironkongs were bloodied, their black uniforms torn, but they stood with the wide, rooted stances of mountains refusing to erode.
"He's got four arms," Tag muttered, spitting a glob of blood. "That's not cool."
"Well, we are technically jumping him, so I think it kinda checks out" Bronx said with an amused look, even though he wasn't in any better shape himself. He cracked his knuckles, the sound sharp in the heavy air. "Listen up! Same plan as the horde, but tighter. Virefangs, you're the eyes and the needles. Make him look at you. Ironkongs... we bring the pain."
The Virefang Lieutenant, a tall vampire named Veric with a cracked visor, nodded. "Do not miss your window, Ironkong. We cannot tank multiple hits from that thing."
"We won't miss," Skarrin promised, his metal coils clicking into a combat spread.
"You... conspire," Vruk rumbled, his voice a wet, tectonic slur. "Like... ants... discussing... the... boot."
He lunged.
For a creature his size, he moved with terrifying fluidity. He scuttled forward, using his lower arms to vault across the terrain, closing the gap instantly.
"SCATTER!" Bronx roared.
The squad exploded outward.
Phase One: Distraction
The five Virefang knights moved as a blur. They circled Vruk, a whirlwind of crimson steel. They didn't commit to heavy strikes; they picked at him. A slash to the heel. A thrust at the elbow. A feint to the eyes.
"Virefang Blood Art: Phantom Sting!" They all shouted, driving their swords and rapiers into gaps in Vruk's shoulder plating before vanishing back into the mist.
Vruk roared, swiping two arms at Veric, a cross-slash that would have bisected him, but another Virefang lunged at his knee, forcing the Titan to adjust his balance.
Vruk was a storm of limbs. He blocked a sword with one arm, swatted a knight away with another, and tried to grab a third. But the Virefangs were disciplined. They were buying seconds with their lives.
"NOW!" Veric screamed, barely dodging a backhand that shattered a boulder.
Phase Two: The Hammer.
The air pressure dropped.
"REVERSE IRONKONG BLOOD ART: SEISMIC STOMP!"
Bronx dropped from the sky. He had used a rock formation to launch himself, coming down like a meteor. He didn't aim for Vruk; he aimed for the ground between Vruk's legs.
BOOM.
The ridge fractured. The ground buckled violently, throwing the Titan off balance. Vruk stumbled, his four arms flailing for stability.
"TAG! SKARRIN!" Bronx bellowed.
Tag charged in low, his shoulder glowing with dense red energy. "IRON RAM!" He slammed into Vruk's midsection, the impact sounding like a bell tolling. The Titan grunted, doubling over.
Skarrin was already airborne. His metal coils shot out, wrapping around Vruk's upper right arm. He planted his feet on the Titan's chest and heaved.
"OPEN HIM UP!" Skarrin strained, veins popping in his neck as he forced the massive limb wide.
Phase Three: The Scalpel.
Vruk's chest was exposed. The obsidian plating there was cracked from Tag's impact.
"Kill shot!" Veric ordered.
The five Virefang knights synchronized their breathing. Their auras flared to needle-points. They lunged as one, aiming for the cracks, for the joints, for the soft violet flesh beneath the armor.
"Virefang Blood Art: QUINTET LACERATION!"
Five blades struck home. Black blood sprayed into the air. Vruk howled—a sound that shook the trees.
"Got him!" Tag cheered.
"INSECTS!"
Vruk didn't fall. He spun.
It was a chaotic, four-armed violent pirouette. His massive fists became bludgeons.
"Back!" Bronx yelled, grabbing Tag and yanking him backward.
The Virefangs weren't fast enough.
One knight took a backhand to the chest. His armor disintegrated. He was launched fifty feet, hitting a tree with a sickening crunch. He didn't get up.
Another was grabbed by Vruk's lower left hand. The Titan squeezed. The knight screamed as his ribs shattered, blood erupting from his mouth before Vruk tossed him aside like trash.
The squad regrouped, panting, terrified. Two down.
Vruk stood tall. He was bleeding from the opened chest wound, but his violet eyes were burning brighter. The wounds were steaming, the black blood hardening into new, sharper armor.
"Is... that... all?" Vruk mocked.
"Damn it," Bronx cursed, wiping sweat from his eyes. "He even heals faster than we do."
"My men are broken," Veric wheezed, clutching his side. "We can't keep up this pace."
"We ain't got a choice," Skarrin growled.
"Krog, you ready?" Bronx asked looking behind him.
Then, a low, maniacal giggle cut through the despair.
Krog stepped forward. He hadn't joined the main assault. He had been asked to wait and watch.
His massive chain-scythe dragged on the ground, striking sparks.
"You got four arms," Krog whispered, his eyes wide and dilated. "Those are four massive weak points for me to take advantage of."
He began to spin the chain. It hummed, a low sound. As it spun red energy formed around it, spinning violently around thr scythe.
"Reverse Ironkong Blood Art: SERPENT'S BINDING."
Krog threw the scythe. It didn't fly straight. It curved, hooking around Vruk's neck.
Vruk was caught off guard as the scythe came at him faster than he had anticipated.
Krog didn't pull back. He charged.
He swung up the titan with the chain, defying gravity, laughing as he closed the distance to the Titan's face.
Vruk swiped at him with two arms. Krog leaped off the chain mid-air, dodging the claws, and landed on Vruk's shoulder. He grabbed the handle of his scythe, ripped it free from the neck, and drove it down into the joint of Vruk's upper arm.
CRUNCH.
Vruk roared in genuine pain.
"Come on!" Krog yelled to the squad, hanging onto the Titan like a tick. "I got him! HIT HIM!"
Bronx saw the opening. He felt the exhaustion in his legs, the bruising in his bones. But he looked at Krog and knew they just had to do it.
"GUYS!" Bronx roared, his voice cracking with exertion. "WE DON'T STOP!"
He charged again.
Tag followed. Even some of the battered Virefangs raised their swords.
They threw themselves back into the middle of battle, knowing that if they stopped for even a second, they were going to die.