The sky was a hellish shade of red, thick with the choking smoke of burning wreckage and the acrid stench of plasma discharges. Anti-air batteries roared firing explosive shrapnel shells , launching volley after volley into the sky, tearing through the Xerath warforms descending in grotesque, insectoid waves. The cityscape of New Antioch’s outskirts was barely recognizable—what was once a bustling fortress-world settlement had been reduced to a field of ruin and carnage, its towering spires now charred husks of metal and stone.

  Amid the chaos, Justicar Jaxon Vaes clung to the armored plating of a Titan Juggernaut, perched high upon the war engine’s massive frame. The Titan’s Xeracite Siege Cannon discharged with a deafening BOOM, the recoil sending a shockwave across the battlefield as the blast obliterated a towering Xerath behemoth in the distance. The war machine was a walking fortress, forty meters of reinforced Adamantium and Xeracite plating, its every step sending tremors through the earth as it cut a path through the alien horde.

  Jaxon exhaled sharply, his helmet’s HUD flashing with battlefield data. His regiment was stretched thin, dug into the ruins below, fighting tooth and nail against an unrelenting surge of Xerath bioforms. He had been providing overwatch, directing the battle from atop the Titan while laying down covering fire.

  Then the warning came.

  “Justicar! Incoming fire!”

  The voice of Centurion Hadrian cracked over comms.

  Jaxon barely had time to react before a plasma bolt the size of a man’s skull slammed into his left shoulder, the impact detonating on contact. His energy shielding flickered violently, trying to absorb the blast, but the force was too much. Pain lanced through his body as he was sent hurtling through the air, his vision momentarily whiting out from the sheer force.

  His back slammed into a lower platform of the Titan, the Adamantium plating buckling beneath him. His kinetic dampeners struggled to compensate, dispersing as much force as possible, but the damage was done. His ribs cracked, his left arm felt numb, and his visor flickered with red alerts.

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  “JUSTICAR DOWN!”

  The desperate cry rang through his comms, but Jaxon forced himself to push through the pain, gritting his teeth as he rolled onto his stomach. He felt something warm and wet pooling inside his armor—likely internal bleeding. Damn it.

  He barely had time to get to his knees before he spotted movement below—a spine maw—a xerath artillery beast, a twisted amalgamation of chitin,bio organic cannons and razor-sharp limbs, climbing up the Titan’s frame, its soulless black eyes locked onto him.

  Jaxon snapped his vindicator rifle up, squeezing the trigger. Xeracite-infused tungsten rounds ripped through the creature’s carapace, bursting out in sprays of black ichor, but it kept coming, its limbs twitching as it lunged for him.

  Jaxon didn’t hesitate.

  Summoning his telekinetic might, he extended his left hand, ignoring the pain in his injured shoulder. The air trembled, an invisible force slamming into the spine maw mid-lunge, crushing its chitinous body like a tin can. Its limbs spasmed mandibles clicking in confusion before it was sent hurling off the Titan, crashing into the battlefield below.

  His brain burned from the exertion—his neural pathways screaming—but he had no time to recover.

  Another warning blared through his HUD—a second plasma bolt streaked toward him.

  He turned just in time for it to slam into his chest, detonating against his armor in a burst of blue fire.

  Everything spun.

  Jaxon felt himself falling, his body tumbling off the Titan’s edge. The world blurred, flashes of gunfire, explosions, and Xerath horrors filling his vision as he plunged toward the chaotic battlefield below. His pack thrusters fired automatically, slowing his descent, but the impact was still brutal.

  He crashed onto the remains of a burned-out transport, rolling off the wreckage and into the ash-covered street. His armor groaned, his HUD blaring critical damage warnings, but he forced himself to rise.

  “Justicar! Do you copy?!”

  His regiment the black suns were rallying nearby, holding the line amidst the waves of incoming Xerath bioforms. They were outnumbered, but not outmatched.

  Jaxon spat blood inside his helmet, Damn it—why hadn’t his healing kicked in yet.

  He gripped his rifle tightly as he looked toward the looming silhouette of the Titan above, still fighting, still pushing forward.

  His comms crackled again.

  “Justicar! Orders?!”

  Jaxon inhaled sharply, ignoring the pain in his ribs.

  He could still fight.

  He would still fight.

  He raised his rifle, his voice cold and unwavering.

  “We hold the line. We don’t give them a single step forward.”

  And with that, he charged.

  As he ran forward, weaving between cover and unloading bursts of plasma fire into the advancing Xerath swarm, Jaxon’s mind drifted. The pain, the adrenaline—it brought back something buried deep.