12:20, February 10, 2295

  Terminal 4, Songnei Starport (松內星港), No. 340-9, Dunhua North Road, Songshan District, Taipei, Taiwan, Imperium of Dragons territory

  Dilinur’s thumb pressed the tiny stud on her earpiece, activating the connection. "Shazmeen, we’re at Terminal 4 now. What does your scrying show?" she demanded, her voice a low murmur that belied the anticipation whirling within her.

  "One moment," came the crisp reply, the voice of Shazmeen Varma tinged with the static of distance.

  Beside Dinu, an imposing figure cloaked in gleaming red armor mirrored her tension. Seneschal Cheng Wei, with his two-handed Battleaxe gripped in hands, surveyed their perimeter. His dark hair was slicked back, emphasizing the sharpness of his gaze and the sternness of his expression, his lips tightly pressed. His armor was adorned with dragon motifs highlighting every muscle beneath the hardened plates, the chest piece featuring a fearsome dragon’s head sculpted in the center.

  Ahead, the silhouettes of two Conjurers moved, psionic energies emanating from their onyx robes as they searched for any trace of enemies.

  Shazmeen’s voice came again in Dinu’s earpiece, its casualness contrasting the ambient’s oppressive state. "Skarn's psionic signature lingers like a foul miasma in Sector 4G. He’s indeed somewhere close to you."

  "Far Seer Varma, 'somewhere close' isn't very helpful if you ask me," Cheng shook his head, also speaking into his own earpiece. "Can you do better? Provide a more precise location?"

  "Dear Seneschal Cheng, without being physically present, this is the best I can do.," Shazmeen's response was laced with defensive annoyance.

  "Perhaps we should invest in creating NexLink satellites like the Alliance has, then," Cheng quipped as they continued down the corridor. "Or I could try using my nose to track Skarn down. That might be more accurate than Shazmeen's scrying."

  "The Alliance satellites can't scan indoors, in case you forgot," Shazmeen’s voice retorted. "But by all means, go ahead and stroll around until Skarn takes a bite out of your head."

  "Have the civilians been secured?" Dinu asked, her focus flitting from one shadowed corner to another, half-expecting the vile creature to emerge snarling from the darkness.

  "Conjurer Lin has assembled them in Hangar B," a new voice chimed through the earpiece, the timbre betraying the strain. "The wounded are being treated as we speak."

  "Good, share food and water with them if you can," Dinu replied, her words clipped as she absorbed every ambient sound, every potential harbinger of violence yet to come.

  "Prefect," Cheng interjected, his voice a rumble. "We will find Skarn. And when we do, I vow to protect you with my life.," He turned to face her with a confident smile, his eyes filled with a fiery determination that went beyond their usual loyalty.

  Dinu had noticed Cheng’s bravery and unwavering dedication to her. He was always the first into battle and the last to retreat, always putting her safety above all else. But in recent months, she couldn't ignore the underlying feelings that seemed to motivate his actions — the one primal feeling that many men in the Legion have for her.

  "Yes. Focus on the mission, Seneschal," Dinu said, her tone cool, a barrier erected against the emotion she could not afford to entertain. She felt the weight of his gaze, the intensity of his adoration palpable.

  "Always, Prefect," Cheng assured her, the slight inflection in his voice baring the truth of his heart.

  "Bloodtroopers. Dragon Turtle Formation," Dinu ordered, her command slicing through the tension between them. She needed to be the Prefect now, the leader, not the object of anyone’s affection.

  "Aye, Prefect!" The Bloodtroopers responded in unison as one of them positioned themselves at the front of Dilinur, while the other four formed a protective circle around her, shielding her from any danger as Cheng trailed behind them all.

  The stench hit them first, a putrid wave that clawed at the senses. It was a miasma of decay and something far worse — something alien, unclean and erotic. Dinu's face twisted in revulsion as she stepped closer to the grotesque tableau laid bare before her eyes.

  "By the Celestial Dragon..." she murmured, her words dissolving into the fetid air.

  Beneath the dim lights of Terminal 4’s ravaged corridor, a black severed tentacle lay like a felled tree, its girth testament to the monstrosity it once belonged to. A portion of the appendage was draped in a viscous white fluid, thick and coagulated, mingled with the remnants of a meal that should have been innocuous — rice, seaweed, tuna. But nothing about this was innocuous.

  "Ugh, that smell. Is it...?" One of the Bloodtroopers walking in front of Dinu began hesitantly.

  "Scan it," Dinu ordered, her voice sharp and determined despite feeling embarrassed. The bleach-like smell of the white fluid reminded her of the depravity that some male superiors in the Imperial Legion had been known to do to their female subordinates. But Dilinur was different. She refused to use her charm and body to get ahead like many women in the Imperium did. Instead, she relied on her skills in combat and administration to prove herself.

  "Scanning, Prefect," Another Bloodtrooper, encased in the Imperium's emblematic armor, stepped forward. He wielded a handheld golden scanner, a device designed to unveil the secrets locked within DNA. As he swept the instrument over the tentacle, the faint hum of technology filled the space between them.

  Then came Shazmeen's voice, a psionic projection ghosting into existence beside Dinu. "Someone's tastes run to the exotic. Or perhaps, the desperate," Shazmeen observed, her tone laced with an edge that was more amusement than disgust. "To think they'd dare such intimacy with Skarn — or suffer such violation."

  Dinu’s jaw clenched at the insinuation, a silent fury bubbling within her. The thought that someone might find pleasure amidst such terror gnawed at her psyche like a relentless worm. Or worse, that Skarn would impose his will in such an abhorrent way. A chilling reminder of the depravity they faced.

  "Keep your conjectures to yourself, Varma," Dinu snapped, the harshness of her tone belying the tumult of emotions within. "We need facts, not fantasies."

  "Of course, Prefect," Shazmeen replied, the smirk on her psionic visage unfaltering. "But I must say, the audacity and debauchery involved here is quite fascinating."

  "Enough," Dinu held up a hand, sighing and turning away from the spectral image of her ally. Her gaze settled back onto the tentacle. "Whoever did this, whether out of perverse bravery or coercion, they encountered Skarn up close."

  The scanner hummed, a golden talon in the Bloodtrooper's steady grip. It swept over the grotesque amalgam of Skarn’s severed limb and the carnal leftovers.

  "Confirmed, Prefect" the trooper's voice was barely audible above the ominous silence that followed the machine's verdict. "It's Skarn's DNA on the tentacle." He paused, his eyes narrowing as the scanner beeped again. "But there's something else... an anomaly. Unregistered DNA present at the apex and mingled with the... matter."

  Dinu's eyes, unflinching and sharp as obsidian shards, focused on the tentacle's moist tip.

  "Unregistered," she whispered, her words slicing through the tension like a scalpel. Pride swelled within her. "Whoever did this with Skarn was a foreigner, then. One whose DNA is not in the Imperial Genetics Archive."

  With the measured steps, Dinu trailed the corridor's grim path, flanked by the Bloodtroopers' imposing presence. Each step kicked up the scent of iron and fear, a pungent reminder of the slaughterhouse they navigated.

  "Could it be Wu Zhi-Xin?" Her mind drifted to Xin, to his quirks and habits. She envisioned him, his slender fingers deftly folding rice within seaweed, a playful smile gracing his lips as he offered her one of his meticulously crafted tuna onigiri. "I remember him trying to hack into the Archive and attempting to delete his own record once."

  "Negative, Prefect Altai," another trooper reported, his voice echoing the sterile finality. "My query on the machine here shows Wu Zhi-Xin’s DNA record still intact in the Archive."

  Suddenly, the air crackled with terror, shattering the uneasy silence. "Prefect! Skarn has found us — civilians in jeopardy!" The Conjurer's voice, distorted by panic, buzzed in Dinu's earpiece like an angry hornet trapped against glass. "— at the atrium of Terminal 4, please send help — oh no. Lin! No —"

  "Golden Lance Formation, move out!" Dinu shouted, her voice a blade slicing through the chaos. Her heart thundered, echoing the staccato rhythm of boots pounding metal as she, Cheng, and their Bloodtroopers surged down the desolate corridor.

  They arrived at the atrium, where desperation had painted its macabre art. Two Conjurers, their faces etched with futile determination, wrestled with spells that fizzled against Skarn's imposing form like dying embers in a tempest. Dinu's gaze locked onto the aberration before her, noting the absence of two writhing appendages from Skarn's grotesque anatomy.

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  "We’re too late," she muttered under her breath.

  Skarn's remaining three tentacles flexed. With a swift motion, he ensnared a Conjurer, hoisting him aloft as easily as one might pluck fruit from a tree. "Ysolde. My most loyal Hundkynda, captured and sealed by your feeble Imperium," he rumbled, a perverse calm in his voice. "Give me her location."

  "Never," the Conjurer spat, defiance igniting his eyes.

  "Then perish." Skarn's claws flashed, grabbing the Conjurer’s head — and then the poor man’s life ended in a soundless collapse of bone and flesh. The headless body crumpled to the ground.

  "Abomination!" Cheng rushed to stand next to Dinu, his armor reflecting the ambient emergency lights.

  "Speak now or suffer the same fate," Skarn warned, turning his attention to the second Conjurer and lifting him up with his tentacles.

  "The Far Side of Osram...Zeeman Crater," the Conjurer caved, each word a betrayal forced out through fear. "A-a-and Io! — near the tomb of Dargoth!"

  "Your cooperation is noted," Skarn sneered before releasing the trembling Conjurer who fell to the ground, alive but hollowed by his own surrender.

  "Wang! You foolish coward!" Dinu scolded, her voice barely a whisper but carrying the weight of stars. Her eyes never left Skarn's form as he moved with lethal intent.

  Skarn's laughter echoed through the desolation of the Songnei Starport. Dinu watched as the towering horror before them swiped his claws to deliver a swift, brutal end to the second Conjurer; the Conjurer's head parted from his body, rolling across the floor with a macabre grace. Blood spurted in dark arcs, painting Skarn's hand with a fresh coat of crimson.

  "Pathetic," Skarn hissed, his voice a serrated whisper. He turned away, his remaining tentacles undulating behind him like grotesque serpents. The Imperium troops stood frozen, their weapons mere trinkets against the behemoth who dismissed them with nothing more than a glance.

  Rage ignited within Dinu, a scorching inferno that seared her reason. She could not allow this beast to continue his rampage. With a whispered incantation, she drew upon the ancient blood magic of her lineage.

  Rage ignited within Dinu, a scorching inferno that seared her reason. She could not allow this beast to continue his rampage. With fluid grace, she withdrew her Psi Fan - the Tarim Aytün - from its ornate sheath at her hip. The fan's silverite ribs caught the dim light as it unfurled, its fabric shimmering with stored psionic energy.

  "Rakta Phiniks, hanatu!" she commanded, her voice carrying the weight of authority even as she channeled her fury into precise gestures with the fan. The air crackled with crimson energy as she swept Tarim Aytün in an arc, sending a surge of power toward Skarn.

  The monster sensed the burgeoning psionic power. Without breaking stride, he roared and unleashed a torrent of twisted energy, a psionic backlash that tore through the air toward Dinu. Her attempt at striking him only drew a low, guttural chuckle that resonated through the blood-soaked air.

  With a dismissive sneer, Skarn turned on his heel, his massive form receding into the smoke and debris, leaving behind the echo of his contempt. "Delay the inevitable, ants of the Imperium, but you cannot deter destiny."

  Dinu staggered as the opposing force struck her spell mid-channel, the world tilting precariously as a rivulet of blood traced a warm path down from her nostril. She maintained her composure, keeping Tarim Aytün raised even as her arm trembled from the backlash. Her knees buckled briefly, but she remained upright, dignity intact.

  It was then that Cheng's arm shot out, steadying her with a firm grip, his battleaxe forgotten for the moment, concern etched into his war-hardened face. "Prefect Altai, you're injured!"

  "A minor setback," she replied coolly, dabbing at her nose with an embroidered sleeve while keeping her fan pointed toward where Skarn had been.

  The air crackled with Skarn's retreating malice, leaving behind an oppressive silence that was swiftly shattered by the groan of reality tearing at its seams.

  A fissure split through the atmosphere, a jagged scar across the starport's vista, pulsating with alien energies. The breach was no mere rift; it was a monstrous maw of jagged, organic spines that pierces the very fabric of reality. Its massive, circular form pulsates with a sickly, alien energy, exuding an eerie, violet glow that casts ominous shadows across the desolate terrain. At its center, a dark, swirling void seems to devour the light around it, a swirling vortex of malevolent intent.

  "Ormheimr…" Dinu could feel the very fabric of existence quiver under the strain of its presence. "Skarn still remembers how to summon it."

  "Dragon Turtle Formation!" Cheng commanded, his voice slicing through the chaos. Their Bloodtroopers responded instantly, forming a protective ring around their Prefect as Cheng stood steadfast beside her, his two-handed battleaxe raised in valor.

  "He's escaping," Dinu's gaze locked onto the Ormheimr as it vomited forth a maelstrom of Radi-Mons, their twisted forms descending upon the starport like a plague. She raised Tarim Aytün, its silverite ribs gleaming ominously in the violet light of the portal.

  "Prefect, we can't pursue Skarn while the Ormheimr exists. The Radi-Mons are going for our civilians," Cheng's tone was measured, but urgency simmered beneath the surface.

  "We stay and protect the civilians," she replied, her decision made in the heartbeat between one calamity and the next. Opening her fan fully, she assumed a stance that spoke of both elegance and deadly intent. "Form ranks! Keep the beasts contained while I deal with their portal beast."

  "As you command!" came the unified reply, the Bloodtroopers' voices booming with courage and resolve, their battle-axes raised to form a protective barrier around their leader. The phalanx stood resolute, a shield wall of steel and determination against the onslaught of Bone Fiends that surged like a relentless tide.

  "Move behind!" Cheng urged the civilians, his own feet steady as they made their way through the remnants of the starport. Civilians, dazed and frightened, hurried towards safety behind their formation.

  "Maa-nik-ya Su-shup-ti!" Dilinur's voice cut through the chaos as she swept Tarim Aytün in a precise arc.

  The air shimmered with crimson energy as her spell took hold. The first wave of Bone Fiends stumbled, their movements growing sluggish as if wading through thick syrup. The Bloodtroopers seized this opportunity, their Thermal Battleaxes cleaving through the disoriented creatures with ruthless efficiency.

  "Hold the line!" Cheng bellowed, his own axe singing through the air as he dispatched a particularly aggressive Skuggr. "Keep them away from the civilians!"

  From her position behind the defensive formation, Dilinur orchestrated the battle with calculated precision.

  When a group of Skuggrs attempted to flank their position, she responded with another sweep of Tarim Aytün.

  "Rakta Unmāda!" The fan's silverite ribs blazed with power as she channeled her will through it.

  The spell struck the flanking Skuggrs, sending them into a frenzy, turning their corrosive attacks against their own kind. The air filled with their shrieks as they tore into each other, their acidic bile melting through carapace and bone alike.

  "Her strength honors the Emperor!" the civilians cheered from behind their protective line, their voices rising above the din of battle.

  Dilinur acknowledged their praise with characteristic dignity, never letting her focus waver from the task at hand. The Ormheimr continued its relentless spawning, each new wave of creatures meeting the coordinated resistance of her forces.

  "Prefect," Cheng called out between strikes, "the portal shows no sign of weakening!"

  Dilinur's eyes narrowed as she studied the writhing gateway. The silverite in her fan hummed with accumulated power, responding to her growing determination. She had been conserving her strength, but now...

  "Form the Arrow Head!" she commanded, her voice carrying across the battlefield. "I need a clear line to the portal!"

  The Bloodtroopers moved quickly, their formation shifting to create a wedge that pointed toward the Ormheimr. Cheng took position at the very front, his armor gleaming with the ichor of fallen foes.

  Dilinur raised Tarim Aytün high, its fabric now rippling with barely contained energy. The psionic circuits within the fan blazed like captured lightning as she began her final incantation.

  Dinu turned her focus to the Ormheimr, its eyeless form still disgorging more twisted creatures. Her fingers traced ancient patterns along her Psi Fan's edge, feeling its circuits within the fan resonating with her touch.

  "Agni ?ūla Hana!" Dilinur's voice rang out clear and commanding as she snapped Tarim Aytün fully open.

  The fan's silverite ribs blazed with crimson light, each intricate circuit igniting like liquid fire. The energy gathered at its edge, coalescing into a searing lance of power that illuminated the terminal in blood-red radiance. With a single, precise gesture, she directed the concentrated force straight into the Ormheimr's maw.

  The portal's flesh writhed and bubbled where her attack struck, its organic matter beginning to char and dissolve. The Radi-Mons emerging from its depths shrieked as they were caught in the crossfire, their bodies crumbling to ash before they could fully materialize.

  "Hold!" she commanded her troops, even as blood began to trickle from her nose again. The strain of channeling such power through Tarim Aytün was immense, but she refused to show weakness. "Keep them contained!"

  The Bloodtroopers fought with renewed vigor, their Thermal Battleaxes forming an impenetrable wall against any creature that dared approach their Prefect. Cheng moved like a whirlwind at the formation's apex, his weapon cleaving through multiple foes with each swing.

  The Ormheimr's flesh began to blacken and peel away where Dilinur's attack connected, its otherworldly substance unable to withstand the concentrated Eclipse energy. With each passing moment, the portal creature's opening grew smaller, its edges curling inward like burning paper.

  "Prefect!" Cheng's voice carried over the chaos. "It's working!"

  With a sound like tearing silk amplified a thousandfold, the Ormheimr finally began to collapse in on itself. The remaining Radi-Mons caught in its disintegrating tunnel screamed as they were torn apart by the portal's death throes. In a final burst, the gateway imploded, leaving behind a pile of charred flesh, oozing ichor.

  The sudden silence was deafening.

  Dilinur lowered Tarim Aytün, her hands trembling slightly from exertion. The fan's ribs still smoldered with residual energy as she carefully folded it closed.

  "Is it over?" one of the Bloodtroopers asked, his voice barely rising above a whisper.

  "For now," Dilinur replied, her composure intact despite the exhaustion evident in her features. She dabbed at her nose with a silk handkerchief, letting out a cough before she continued. "There will be more battles. We must be ready."

  Cheng approached and laid a gauntleted hand on her shoulder, the touch surprisingly gentle. "Your strength honors us all, Prefect Altai," he said, his voice reverberating with respect and something more.

  "As Imperials, strength is our only choice," Dilinur responded before letting out a heavy sigh, her voice weary but resolute as a slight blush colored her cheeks. "Also, Seneschal, please refrain from touching me when others are present."

  "By your will," Cheng withdrew his hand, punctuated by a Bloodtrooper approaching them both.

  "Pardon the disruption, Prefect. We’ve received transmission from the Azure Mount Logistic Hub." the Bloodtrooper nodded cautiously, nervousness lacing the processed voice coming through his helmet.

  "What’s this about?" Dilinur raised an eyebrow.

  "The android, U6-M9. It’s gone missing." the trooper replied, nervousness lacing the processed voice coming through his helmet. "Lady Marisol reports encountering a visually identical model in NIPU territory."

  "What!?" Dilinur dropped her handkerchief to the floor.

  "Tell us everything you know." Cheng demanded as his posture straightened next to Dilinur, rivulets of sweat trickling down his temples, mixing with the smears of alien ichor on his battle-worn armor.