A few hours after dawn, Axel jolted awake at the sound of petrol engines as well as tracks crunching down on shrubs and…

Crack! Thud!

And of tanks running over small trees.

There had been a light drizzle during the night, and the morning was quite nippy. Steam puffed out of Axel’s breath, even though the dry season would be coming in only a few weeks or so.

He crawled out of his bedroll and looked for the war machines, finding them just a couple of hundred cubits downhill. They were plowing through the gametrails, brutally widening the path by either running over the trees, or having their attached infantry support cut the undergrowth enough so that the vines and branches didn’t get caught in the track and wheels.

He didn’t see his aide anywhere nearby, but he did spot several infantry men, who were nervously smoking cigarettes while staring up towards the ruins.

“What happened during the night?” he asked. The soldiers startled and stared fitfully about. Their eyes were bloodshot, and their fingers trembled.

“The witch captured a couple of men last night. Men on the line,” one of the riflemen answered. “I saw it. I was just a few cubits away. She was down in the walled courtyard one moment, then the next, she was right next to Levi and Niko. They shot her…they shot her, damn it! The bullets did nothing. She knocked them unconscious and jumped right back down.”

“When…when did this happen?” Axel asked quietly. He hadn’t noticed an upshot in occult resonance, so it must have been after he had fallen asleep.

“It was just after dusk,” the second soldier said. It was already dark, but the witch gave out some kind of light, making it really easy to target her…but normal bullets didn’t seem to work. She brought them into the courtyard and through an opening under the large tree. I heard an explosive sound, then Levi and Niko were thrown outside. I lost sight of them, but Niko managed to return. The story he told was crazy! She let Levi explode a grenade…I mean, she caught a grenade, let it explode in her hand, and wasn’t harmed at all! What kind of witch is that? How…I don’t think…” His eyes swung towards the tank, and he seemed to settle down. “Maybe those would work.”

Axel felt not a little bit of consternation. The goal was to capture! Not kill! But if the witch proved to be that resilient, perhaps it would take a battalion of tanks to bring her to heel. Hmmm, perhaps it would take an entire tank battalion after all. There was only a single company’s worth of them, which was four armoured vehicles plus a small complement of infantry and support personnel. The majority of the Confederacy’s forces, tanks, infantry, and airforce, were over at Norrinth, attempting to bomb the enemy forces into submission. What’s left in the fatherland was a mere token force, especially to what’s stationed to the east, against the Drunada Unity.

The number of the witch’s fiends was around a dozen or so. The abominations with beastly features, and regular men and women armed with special weapons. At least the witch’s fiends weren’t as immune to bullets as she was. They still had a force field, but those were easily pierced with a dozen shots or so.

Disturbed by the soldiers’ words, he sought out Chief Storm Leader Rorn Dussel, and found him in conference with the tank company’s Assault Leader, an unfortunate looking man with a pinched nose, slightly misaligned eyes, and a day-old beard.

“Section Leader, good morning,” Dussel said once he caught sight of Axel, “This is Head Assault Leader, Karl Buhler.”

Buhler took note of Axel’s insignias and rank while Axel, being technically the junior officer amongst the three of them, offered a salute. “Glory to the Tyrant.”

After returning his courtesies, Buhler had enough sense to know that Warlocks were separate from typical military hierarchy, and said, “Well, we’re here. Shall we pound that witch to paste?”

“No,” Axel said stiffly. “Captured alive, if you please. The rest of them can die, but not her.”

Buhler grunted and exchanged glances with Dussel, who said, “We’ve suffered five casualties already, with one man rendered insane. Demolish their shelter and we’ll take who’s alive at the end. I’m sorry, Section Leader, but I don’t think we can aim to capture and succeed. Not with the power the witch can call on.”

Axel winced. “Fine, do what you must.”

“We shall proceed then,” Buhler said and called for his men. He boarded one of the tanks, a tracked armoured vehicle with a mighty cannon on a turret. The tank was roughly twice the height of a man, and Buhler clambered up the side and onto the hatch as easily as a child up a tree.

Shaking his head and hoping that his wishes were granted, he went off to find breakfast which happened to be another set of jerky and bread. The meal was punctuated by the booms of the cannons, as well as the sounds of shattering rocks. He was summoned to the ruins almost as soon as he finished his meal, and it was to the sight of rubble.

“No one fought back,” Dussel said as he frowned. His men were scouring the courtyard, and soon they were directed towards a semi-collapsed opening underneath a broken oak tree.

“A tunnel.” Axel frowned as he cast his vision cantrip. There was a trail of occult resonance lingering in the tunnel. “There’s something beyond it. It reeks of occult resonance.”

“They barricaded themselves in there,” Dussel said. “We’ll have to dig them out.”

He went back yelling for his men. A few minutes passed and soon, they were digging the debris out of the passage.

In the meantime, Axel set up a vigil, watching the occult resonance that lingered in the tunnel. It wasn’t the same frequency as the witch’s. It was a bit more…primal? Where the witch’s was golden in nature, and burned fiercely, this one was filled with different hues that were somehow working together. It probably wasn’t the witch’s. Which meant that she was either deeper underneath the earth than he could sense, or that she was farther away than expected. Possibly both.

Somebody gave him a tin cup filled with rehydrated coffee. It tasted foul, and he dearly missed his cigar. But he was outdoors and on duty. Taking the time to indulge in a stogie was hardly proper. Somebody offered him a cigarette stick. Drummer Boy cigarettes. The cheapest brand made in the fatherland, but immensely popular after decades of economic deprivation.

He held onto it between his fingers and lit it with a lighter. His cigar lighting habits had him making sure not to touch the head with flame, but then, as soon as it was lit and he drew a puff, he grimaced. The taste was awful.

Still, it did calm his nerves. The wait was nearly unbearable, but it didn’t take more than a few hours to clear a passage, and somebody reported to Dussel that they discovered something incredible underneath. Ah, and that the witch wasn’t, and that there was no sign of them at all, except for a fully collapsed tunnel beyond the large chamber.

“Well, what now?” Dussel asked. “We can dig through the tunnel, but since it’s collapsed, it’s safe to say that they’re long gone.” The two of them were headed underground, and were followed by a couple of soldiers carrying square flashlights.

They emerged into an impossibly large chamber, which had structures brimming with occult resonance. Axel couldn’t help but gape.

“What was this place before? How come the Confederacy never noticed this?”

“Who knows?” Dussel shrugged, then pointed at the half melted metal rings and rods in the middle of the chamber. “What do you think those are? This place might not have existed before the witch…I mean, this might have brought her here. Why else would she stay here when there are far more creature comforts south or north?”

“I don’t know. This place must be studied.” Axel shook his head. “Much as I’d love to, I have not the knowledge or predilection. The Magicka Obscura Observation Department will head the research…”

Shaking his head, he headed towards the opposite wall where another soldier was digging into a small tunnel. He could feel a slight trace of the witch’s occult resonance through there. But now that they knew that their quarry wasn’t here, he could go back outside and attempt to find a trace. They couldn’t stay underground for too long, right?”

___________

Yuriko and the others spent the rest of the daylight under cover. The tunnel they dug underneath led them to a cliff face nearly three hundred paces away from the courtyard. That evening, they snuck out of the area and took cover under the woods. Even so, she couldn’t help but feel disquiet at leaving the portal site.

The portal anchor was damaged and there was little she could do to fix it at the moment. Even if she had time, too many of the runescript lines had melted off. How would she even attempt to recreate it?

So how were she and the others going to get home? She still had that bit of instinct, but she was beginning to think that venturing in Siderious had been a mistake…

She paused to wait for Damien’s snark, but when nothing came she just sighed. What was wrong with that perverted old man? She could barely feel his slumbering consciousness. She managed to gather a bit of natural Radiant energy. It was only a couple of motes after all this time lingering under the sun, and she fed it into his consciousness, but it was as if she’d thrown a pebble down a deep well. Aside from a small splash, there was nothing.

She distracted herself by examining the warrior’s belongings. The weapons were interesting, but ultimately useless outside of this place. Probably. Well, it could hurt unawakened people, but that was about it. The explosives were interesting, too, and after extensive investigation, she managed to figure out how to trigger it. Of course, that meant one of the stick explosives got sacrificed, but she barely managed to contain the blast. As for the sound, she heard explosions going on in the distance, so it was unlikely that this one would have been noticed.

Other than the weapons, the man had a couple of flasks of water, another half empty one with liquor. A small tin filled with small white and brown cylinders, as well as another box filled with little sticks tipped with something black. When she touched the tip, it burst to flame. The smoke that came from it hurt her nose, but it otherwise settled into a tiny flame that soon got blown out with the breeze. Interesting.

There was a bit of food. Enough for a meal, at least. Dried meat and hard biscuits. Then, there had been little rectangular pictures filled with half naked women stuck inside a leather holder. It also had papers filled with artwork and numbers. Huh.

“Wazzat?” Gwendith mumbled as she placed her chin on Yuriko’s shoulders. She glanced at the pictures of women in their underwear and snorted in amusement. “Those are nice pictures.”

“Indeed,” Yuriko muttered. It hadn’t been made from paint, now that she had a better look. It was made out of ink, she was sure. But…there were five such paintings, and two of them had been identical, down to the last line and colour.

There were Animus techniques back in the Empire that allowed someone to copy a document down to the exact detail, drawings and paintings, too. But here? In this place that barely had enough ambient Chaos to sustain life? It was a wonder!

“Heron, take a look at this!” She called out to her childhood friend who, she remembered, painted as a hobby.

“Hmmm? Oh. This isn’t oil based paint…” he muttered. The three of them attracted the attention of the twins and Asami, who wandered over. Braden grinned at the paintings while Orrin coloured.

“Those girls are hardly a match for Yuri, you know,” Asami gently ribbed the Chaos touched boy, who stammered unintelligible words.

Yuriko gave the curios to the boys since they seemed to appreciate it then quietly meditated to gather distilled Chaos. Desire still needed her sustenance, and she could use Fri’Avgi’s support.

And, towards the end of the day, she jolted out of her meditation with the distinct feeling of being watched.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep