The Golden Gravekeeper - 126 Chapter 126

My tank regiment crested over the ridge and the Zaft garrison finally came into view, along with thousands of troops.

It didn’t matter. I had over a hundred tanks. Each tank was easily worth a hundred infantry, especially when they didn’t have many anti-tank weapons. Furthermore, at the center of my army was the super-heavy Hellblade, which was impervious to all but the most powerful weapons or spells that the armies of Kobayashi could muster.

“Fire at will!”

Major Daniel Dressia barked an order, and as one, the moving Malthas Executioner tanks launched a devastating volley of plasma fire that carpeted the entire region with superheated energy. The milling infantry who were bunched up together to charge into Captain Dante Infernius’s garrison were incinerated in an instant.

The survivors’ morale broke and they began to flee, only to be shot down by sponson plasma cannons that spewed out superheated blasts of bluish-white energies. The tanks continued to roll on, their turrets glowing red-hot from the earlier bombardment. As we waited for the plasma weapons to cool down, another infantry division flanked us and attacked from the right, howling ferociously as they swung their swords, spears and axes against the adamantium armor that protected the tanks.

Kobayashi’s brainwashed zealots. Unlike the earlier infantry company we had just massacred, these human soldiers had been indoctrinated to give up their lives for the so-called Emperor of Humanity. Stripped of their fear, intellect or caution, they recklessly threw their bodies forward in hopes of overwhelming the armored regiment through sheer numbers.

However…

“Crush them!”

Spending a Command Point, I voxed the Stratagem to my regiment. Sergeant Gunnery, my driver, floored the accelerator and the super-heavy Hellblade dashed forward, rolling over legions of desperate infantry and squashing them into bloody pulps. Behind us, the Malthas Executioner tanks followed suit, grinding the surrounding infantry into paste under their plasteel tracks. But none possessed the formidable might that the Adamantium Tracks of my Hellblade had, which simply flattened cavalry and footmen alike.

As my tanks mercilessly crushed the infantry under their tracks, we drew closer to the garrison where more densely packs of infantry awaited. Dressia barked another order and the tanks unleashed a second catastrophic volley that reduced the grounds outside the garrison into a molten crater. The lightly armored infantry simply didn’t stand a chance, disintegrated instantly by the sheer heat. Despite their zealous devotion to Kobayashi, the remaining survivors broke apart and fled.

“They’re here! The Hero Slayer and his army!”

“Hang in there! We’re saved!”

“For freedom!”

I could hear their cheers even from this distance. Unfurling atop the highest tower, the regimental standard of the Knights of Blood was held up high and proudly, defiantly displaying their resistance. The knight holding up the regimental standard stubbornly stood his ground, refusing to move and only ducking as arrows from the invading army fired up at him. Despite the holes being torn into the fabric of the banner, the crucifix symbol of blood remained visible.

The Knights of Blood would not fall. Not today, not ever.

“Thank you!”

I heard Alan vox me from inside the Cerberus APC he was traveling inside. He sounded almost as if he was weeping in joy.

“Thank you, Tanaka-san. I can’t believe we made it.”

“Neither can I. but it’s not over yet.”

Even as my tanks rumbled forward like the lumbering behemoths that they were, I could see another cluster of infantry gathering for a counterattack.

“What’s that?”

Gunnery frowned when he spotted something in the middle of the rallying enemy infantry. I followed his gaze and consulted my auspex, which displayed a gargantuan creature in the command console’s pictscreen.

“It looks like a robot,” I muttered when the image got clearer.

That was quite the understatement. It actually resembled a mechanical dragon. Raising its metallic head, its maw yawned before a gout of flames flowed out burning the valley before it. Several infantrymen unfortunate enough to be in the vicinity spontaneously combusted, but their comrades grimly and stoically held their ground. Kobayashi’s brainwashing had been so thorough that they didn’t care if their squardron mates died.

The infanry marched forward, loosing arrows whenever they could. More of them drew their swords or lowered their spears in a last-ditch attempt to fight the onrushing tanks. This was the densest cluster of infantry and probably the main force. There was at least three thousand men standing between us and the garrison, reinforced by the presence of the mechanical dragon.

“What do we do, sir?” Daniel asked nervously. We had been unleashing plasma blasts, but currently we were still a little out of range of the dragon robot. The fringes of the infantry had been scorched or decimated, but the main bulk was moving forward. With thousands of them dauntlessly marching forward, they would overwhelm us through sheer numbers alone.

“There’s too many of them!”

“There must be thousands of them…”

“Do we have enough energy or ammo to burn through that many soldiers?”

Unfortunately, my men sounded a little daunted by the formidable task ahead, and several of the tanks slowed down instead of meeting the encroaching infantry head-on. Recognizing the gap, I quickly raised myself up and into the cupola, opening the hatch and standing on top of my Hellblade.

“Men of Morten!” I shouted. “We’re the Hammer of the Demonic Alliance! We will crush our foes, no matter how many they are! Give them a good taste of Hellsfort steel! We will show them what it means to oppose the demon race and invade Morten!”

Using the tanks that was the hammer of the Demonic Alliance, I intended to crush them against the anvil of Captain Infernius’s garrison. Caught between a rock and a hard place, the enemy would find themselves cornered. Of course, I understood my men’s concerns. There really was literally thousands of enemy soldiers. The entire space between my tanks and Captain Infernius’s garrison was teeming with infantry.

However, it didn’t matter. We would just have to kill and kill and keep killing until every single one of them was dead.

I drew my Blood Dragon Sword and raised it high into the air, becoming a visual symbol that rallied and inspired my faltering men. Remembering what Regis told me, I considered that the majority of the soldiers and tankers under my command were inexperienced, green rookies fresh out of boot camp. This was their first major action, and probably their first real battle. It was only natural for them to hesitate and be afraid.

But that was my job as their commander to inspire them, to rally them to victory, to motivate them to fight.

“Slay every heretic you see! Use whatever weapons you have at your disposal! If your plasma cannons overheat, then crush them with the treads of your tanks! If your tanks stall and stop moving, get out of your tanks and shoot them with your lasguns! If you run out of ammo with your lasguns, fix bayonets and stab these filthy traitors who dare turn their backs on the light of the Emperor! If your bayonet grows blunt and dull, then use your fists and smash their faces in! You’re demons, for Restia’s sake! Show them what it means to be demons!”

“Sir, yes, sir!”

An instantaneous response from my men, their voices roaring as one both over the speakers and vox. Smiling, satisfied, I lowered my Blood Dragon Sword and pointed at the approaching infantry.

“Forward, for the Emperor!” I bellowed.

“For the Demon Lord!”

Echoing my cry, my men rallied. Tanks slapped into high gear and rushed forward, superheated plasma spewing from turrets and sponsons. Hundreds of infantry were vaporized as they met the steel charge of my armored units, and more were crushed as they were chewed underfoot by the merciless tracks of my tanks.

The mechanical dragon roared and stomped over, squashing hapless infantry that were too slow to get out of its way in time. Its tail whipped and lashed out, sending more men flying. Despite the friendly fire and damage it was wrecking upon its own forces, it was only a matter of time before the cybernetic dragon reached our forces.

Having registered the threat, my tanks were turning their attention to the approaching mechanical dragon. Plasma and las-beams lashed out from the turrets and hull lascannons, but they were stopped by crackling, eldritch energy that formed a protective green barrier around the gargantuan robot dragon. Lassfield and St. Patrick, the two sponson gunners aboard the Hellblade, turned their attention away from murdering infantry with the sponson twin heavy bolters and turned their sponson lascannons on the dragon, only to achieve little effect.

The shimmering custom forcefield surrounding the mechanical dragon had made it all but impervious to our heavy fire. Well, it made sense that the mechanical dragon would be well-protected, otherwise they wouldn’t bother spending all those resources and effort into assembling it. that said, it didn’t look very well assembled.

“We should take that thing out first!” Jurgen shouted to me.

“Of course we are.” I waved my Blood Dragon Sword impatiently and gestured toward the mechanical dragon. The crude contraption was lumbering slowly toward our position, having identified The Savior of Moria as the primary threat. I didn’t know how the humans managed to rig up such a gargantuan machine, but it looked as if it was going to fall apart anytime soon. Most likely it was held together by random experimental tinkering and sheer faith on the part of Kobayashi’s zealots that it would work no matter how they built it.

I wasn’t going to rely on it to fall apart on its own, though. I was leaving nothing to chance.

Pointing my Blood Dragon Sword at the clunky contraption, which was swaying unsteadily on imbalanced legs, I yelled to Jurgen.

“Drive me closer! I want to hit them with my sword!”

Jurgen muttered an expletive and something that would be considered insubordination if I was a petty, career-minded officer, but I didn’t care about such trivial matters.

The mechanical dragon turned toward me and unleashed a gout of flames. It missed because the flamethrower was too short-ranged to reach The Savior of Moria. Instead, it only succeeded in combusting the friendly troops in front of it. Growling, the dragon switched to plasma bolts, several of which whizzed past me.

“Get off the cupola and back into the tank, Colonel!” Jurgen hissed. “Don’t be an idiot! Don’t get yourself killed!”

I bit back a retort (I was about to tell him, “don’t tell me what to do, Lieutenant!”) and meekly obeyed. Maybe it was a better idea not to hit that thing with my sword. Sighing, I sagged back in my commander’s seat.

“I’m going to have to summon Matsukaze to take out that thing.”

“Oh no, you don’t.”

Instead, Gunnery rolled his eyes and merely swung the turret around and aimed the main cannon (Hellblade siege cannon) at the mechanical dragon. A brilliant lance seared the distance between us and slammed into the mechanical dragon with full force. The custom forcefield that protected the mechanical dragon held at first, glowing brightly as the devastating torrent of energy drilled into it, but then finally spluttered and died.

With its defenses breached, the mechanical dragon could do nothing as the bright, crimson lance tore through its body, leaving a molten trail in its mechanical innards. The massive machine shuddered, and then collapsed as the light died from its eyes. The surrounding infantry tried to evade, but a full score of them were crushed under its toppling mass.

For good measure, the other tanks in my armored regiment fired their hull lascannons to make sure the mechanical dragon stayed down. Ruby las-beams ripped into the sprawled machine beast, gouging holes and sending molten shrapnel flying into nearby soldiers, causing them to scream and fall over from grievous wounds.

The tide of battle had turned against the enemy. Suddenly, numbers no longer seemed to matter. Even though there were still thousands of infantry still on the battlefield, they were stunned and shellshocked at the sight of their main weapon being so easily vanquished by a single attack.

And the Hellblade that delivered that single lethal attack was now rumbling toward them. Lassfield and St. Patrick opened up with their sponson twin heavy bolters, and Gunnery added the fire of the hull twin heavy bolters to the fullisade of mass-reactive shells. More soldiers were cut down, and the rest began to flee.

The main cannon opened up again, and a molten crater was carved into the earth, along with the disintegration of dozens of men.

This was quickly turning into a rout.

“We have them! They’re running away!”

“Kill them! Kill them all! Don’t let them escape!”

“For the Demon Lord! For Morten!”

Being the greenhorns they were, the rookie tankers were drunk on their victory and began to speed up to catch up with the soldiers who were breaking away.

“Maintain formation discipline!” Daniel snapped. “Get back in line, all of you!”

“It’s not over yet,” I warned my men. “The enemy here might seem broken, but they’re still alive. Be careful of traps. They might be seeking to lure solitary tanks away from the regiment, isolate them and take them out one by one. I’m sure you would prefer to be alive to celebrate this victory, right?”

There was a muted series of assent, but the tank commanders obediently pull their tanks back to surround The Savoir of Moria protectively. Their weapons continue to spit hot death, vaporizing more human infantry.

“Sir, weird readings on the auspex,” Jurgen reported as we grimly ground our way toward the garrison, slaying every living thing between us.

“I see it too.”

Frowning, I called up a holographic screen and magnified the image. A new enemy was approaching us from the rear, their shiny golden limbs gleaming. They didn’t look like anything I had ever seen – neither human nor demon.

A chill ran down my back.

“Engaging enemy!” shouted an overexcited tank commander from the rear. Morgan, was it? He had his Malthas Executioner tank turn around to blast the newcomers with a blast of plasma. One of them vanished, but its comrades unleashed a volley of antimatter bolts. The bombardment of blue spheres of crackling energy hammered the tank, crumpling the metal and ripping holes in the inches-thick adamantium armor.

“What the hell is this!?”

“Gratz is down!”

“Aaaah!”

Moments later, the tank erupted in a blossom of flame, unable to withstand the phase disruptor shots from the newly arrived quadrupedal walkers.

“What the hell is that thing!?”

I didn’t know either. At first glance, they looked like weird, hand-shaped spiders. A type of alien quadrupedal assault walker, the golden chassis in the middle was supported by four spidery legs and sported a phase disruptor cannon.

“The 5th Lancer Dragoon Company is here!”

“We’re saved!”

“The Dragoons! They’ve come to rescue us!”

“We can win this!”

This time, the tables were turned on us instead. Over the ridge, countless quadrupedal walkers climbed through the messy metal, their golden legs gleaming under the sun and raining down phase disruptor shots down on us.

“5th Lancer Dragoon Company?”

Why did that sound familiar?

Suddenly, an old memory surfaced, and I recalled who they were. Weren’t they Suzuki Shirou’s personal army, a company of lancer cavalry who nearly attacked Captain Infernius’s Knights of Blood and assaulted me just before I entered the Temple of Lyia?

It felt really long ago, but they most likely possessed the same name. That said, I found it weird. Back then, I remembered that they were regular humans, normal spearmen mounted atop horses. None of them was piloting a quadrupedal walker or exotic machines such as these. They were wielding spears, not advanced phase disruptors that could fire antimatter bolts.

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Were they really the same company, or did Suzuki change and reorganized the whole company from ground up?

My men were already firing back, the tanks swiveling around with their main weapons and hull lascannons to face this new threat, but we had lost several more tanks to the Dragoons’ devastating bombardment.

“Don’t falter!” I shouted. Turning the dial in the vox, I contacted Char Aznable. “Lieutenant, it’s your time to shine.”

From behind the Dragoons, a Golem stomped out and smashed the nearest one with his fist. Rearing up, the Golem let loose with its twin particle beams, ripping apart a couple of Dragoons. Gunnery added to the destruction by triggering the Hellblade siege cannon. A dozen golden walkers vanished in a blinding conflagration.

They could be killed. I was relieved. They might pack serious firepower, but they weren’t durable.

“Destroy them!” I yelled.

That was when I noticed something. Swallowing nervously, I drew the holographic picture over with my finger and magnified it. There was something encased within the chassis of the golden Dragoons. A translucent orb. The cockpit or something?

No. it was a chamber, or a sarcophagus. The body of a human male was being encased within the translucent sarcophagus, an emaciated, broken body of a formerly healthy man.

To my complete shock, I recognized the features of the near-corpse. Despite the sunken, hollow eyes, withering flesh that stretched over cheekbones, and a deathly pallor, there was no mistaking the lead Dragoon as belonging to the Dragoon lancer who had formerly been Captain Monka.

“Holy Restia…” I murmured in horror.

As if aware that I had seen him, Monka twitched within his translucent sarcophagus and willed his Dragoon to stalk forward. Kept alive only by his willpower and the life-support system of the Dragoon chassis, the former captain’s gaunt lips curled into a snarl.

“I have returned,” the Dragoon declared.