The Dark Ages [Dark Data]

[Okor]

Viridian orbs cascaded across Okor’s carapace, scorching the sullied steel as the centaur emerged from the dark haze of Hiro’s detonating double. Haughty, mocking laughter came from the half-man, rearing up as their energized blade burnt a path through the air, the very atmosphere itself being ionized. “You fools! How can you hope to stand agai-”

A bolt shell interrupted their gloating, the irradiated round detonating mid-air, sending shards of tainted shrapnel spiralling through the air, miniscule fragments embedding themselves in the android’s synthetic flesh. “So be it! You have cho-” Another shot ricocheted off of the cybernetic centaur’s armour, the detonation scything through mechanical meat, revealing a twisted mixture of pistons and ivory bones, ridden with slowly pulsing purple crystals. “Have you no respect f-” A final round raced through the air, a distorting haze appearing in front of the Neblua-sworn warrior, their burning blade cutting through the suddenly slowed shell, the two halves spiralling off behind them, their payloads rendered inert.

”No,” sneered okor, a rotting hand pulling back a rusting bolt on his weapon, a verdigris-coated casing falling to the ground as acrid smoke rose from the tumbling spent shell. His greaves churned the earth before him as he moved, mould and fungus beginning to bloom in his wake. A fresh barrage of bolts spewed forth from the Centaur’s custer cannon, each one charring armour and festering flesh as they kissed his blessed and blighted body.

“You shall be trampled to dust beneath my hooves!” Screamed the foe, mechanized appendages activating, an emerald field of energy coalescing around the amalgamation of man, machine, and mount. A field of temporal distortion emerged in front of the Centaur, compressing the timeline as it raced forward, gleaming horns levelling out as the beast became little more than a streak of energy, closing the distance in less time than it took for Okor to blink.

No mortal man would have been able to dodge the charge.

Okor was no mortal.

This had little to do with his ability to dodge it, nonetheless. His emaciated frame merely set itself in preparation, the force of a thunderhawk’s engines behind the beast’s blow as they embedded their horn in the Plague Marine’s torso, seeking to pierce his heart.

”Not one step back.” Snarled the septic soldier, shattered bones drifting through newly liquified flesh as his hands grasped the two other horns of the Centaur. With a screech of rending metal and a crack of bone, their right horn came free, a spray of oil, blood, and something worse accompanying it. Raising the fractured horn overhead like a sacrificial dagger, the gene-forged weapon drove it downwards, its shining tip tearing through the creature’s cybernetic carapace.

With a roar of pain and anger, the Centaur tore itself free, its freshly shattered horn embedded in their back, slowly being stained with tainted ichor. An entirely different form of corruption dripped from their forehead, translucent vitae rolling in rivulets down the antler. “You’ll pay for that,” they promised, wiping black liquids from their mouth with the back of their single hand.

The Plague Marine’s response was to shrug, some part of them that had seen them through ten millennia of warfare calculating the odds. ”I doubt it. Four warriors, each of which could kill you on their own, against a single, sad, quarter-man.”

“How dare y-”

”Madotsuki.”

The centaur turned, but not nearly fast enough. A fist forged from pure will and imagination cracking them across the jaw, sending the creature sprawling to the earth in a tangle of animalistic limbs. The youth stood atop a collection of rubble, their blade clutched in one hand, palm still extended, iridescent energies still wafting from it.

From their prone position, the Centaur began to rise, ebon ichor flowing freely from their mouth, staining their breastplate sable, laughing through a mouthful of blood. “Oh, you fools.” They turned to face the grouping of Primes, all of them taking advantage of the brief reprieve to reposition and reload. The Nebulous warrior’s eyes began to turn black, purple veins running through the irises as they began to stand on all four bestial legs. “This is only the beginning of your suffering.”

734 words.