Bombur watched on from his position atop the magic turret of his command Mobile Drilling Machine, the height of the mass driver affording him a relatively advantageous view from his hill in the park. The trees, once vibrant, tall, and green, had been entirely cleared away, allowing for their artillery to be utterly unobstructed. What the dwarf saw through the enhanced sight of the Magic artifact he held left him feeling... conflicted.

The Great War in the Third Civilization had dragged on for almost four months, if not longer. In that time, many of his people had died, and many, many more of his brothers and sisters besides.

Worse of all, both of the Prince, the Grandlord, the Queen, then their whole country was ravaged by the damn Orcs.

Despite having advanced technology, they all still knew the dangers of their enemies, but the Grandlord and his son had encouraged the dwarves under their command to embrace their individuality, their creativity, and their cunning. It was in this way that they had bested the entire Third Civilization Zone of all stripes.

But now with their rulers and home gone, the remaining Iron Kingdom forces and their 10,000 remaining citizens went into hiding underground, where there was a hidden underground city that was built centuries ago for an emergency.

After hearing reports of a large gathering of the majority of the races in Aquarius City, the people of the Iron Kingdom gets their chance of getting revenge, by releasing their strongest machines and unleashed devastation on all factions in one place.

The dwarven lieutenant watched as flashes lit up the far sides of the buildings which the enemies were sheltering behind, knowing these to be the first two of the three planned ambushes. His MDMs were combining their firepower with advantageous positioning and the element of surprise to hammer the enemy in what they thought would be safe harbor.

One of their machines timed their attacks with the sudden assaults of the squads Bombur had sent to each of the ambush locations, hiding within the very buildings the enemy would think to use for cover.

Without the use of their best and strongest members, elements of the enemy forces the dwarf's machines had seen neutralized first, the enemy stood no chance against the vicious crossfire they would be caught in. But that was not all. Along with assault squads to aid in their decimation, he had also sent his best marksmen out to neutralize their evident commanders.

Headless, armless, and naked, any enemies, either the elves, the Orcs, or even these unknown human invaders, would be left without any options save for frantic advance or frantic retreat.

The ambushes were scything through them, the losses for both enemy forces reportedly growing massive in both of the initial attacks. The results of their plan were devastating, and that was good, because they needed to be. To say that Bombur and his men were outnumbered by the enemies would not do justice to what the dwarves were facing.

Even after enduring prolonged bombardment, the arriving enemy had twelve men for every magic blaster Bombur had under his command, and drastic measures needed to be taken to even the odds if they were going to hold their position and continue aiding the other Generals in the main battle.

[Commander,] said a voice through the magic comm.

It was one of his marksmen or assassins, whom he had sent out from their position. He and many others had been instructed to choose a high-altitude location among their buildings, flag the enemy commanders, and then take out the one they thought was the highest ranking.

[I got him. An elven commander is dead,] he said.

A moment later, another voice mirrored the words.

[A High Orc kill him before I could get him, but yeah, I also shot him and now both an Orc and elven commander was neutralized,] said the dwarven marksman.

"Good, both of you get back here on the double. Let the assault squads withdraw at their own pace," he told the snipers.

[Sir, yes sir!] they said in unison.

Bombur waited a few seconds more before looking down at the small console on his wrist and contacting his third assassin, who hadn't reported a kill yet.

"Catch, have you neutralized your target on the human army?" he radioed.

There was a pause, a silence. [Not yet, still looking for him...]

"What's the matter, Catch? Their commanders are not typically difficult to spot. Unlike the other race, I'm pretty sure its more easier due to them being inferior humans."

[I know,] the marksman said. [But I'm not seeing the typical signs. Unlike the Orcs with their commanders are larger than their average size or the elves with their commanders wearing colorful armors, literally the human army seemed to wear the same dirty clothing.]

"So are you saying these primitive humans are-"

[No, commander. But don't worry, I'll find them. The attack on this army hasn't even started yet. Oh wait, something's happening!] Said the dwarven sniper.

"Just focus on finding the commander and taking him out. You copy?" Bombar said back.

[Yes, sir.]

Bombur cut the magic link and then refocused his attention on the ongoing attacks, knowing that both of the elves and orcs would begin attacking at any moment.

It bothered him, but did not surprise him, that the attacks had not been perfectly synchronized.

To ensure maximum damage, the dwarves needed to give their enemies the time to cluster in the protective shadow of any building, the more tightly packed, the better.

With their cover turned into a kill zone and unable to organize a defense, the enemies would be left with only two choices. He had hoped they would choose to retreat and scatter, but Bombar could already see that both Elves and Orcs were electing to charge desperately forward.

The Orcs still had some High Orcs, but what made him worried is the Orcs' "Sluggas", according to what intelligence they had on the Orcs and their new weapons, which was a very odd weapon Bombur had ever seen.

The magic cannon flashed, a shining burst moving up from the base to the end of the barrel before discharging a tight, radiant lance of bright blue magic energy traveling at mach 5. The beam struck the center left of the fortifications across the bridge, instantly burning through them, and through the ground and building, leaving a dripping, circular hole through the entire structure.

The gap was only four feet around, but anything even close to it was immolated, and where before there had been a pristine line of barricades ready to be defended, now there was a hole, and then, after a second discharge, another hole soon after.

Bombur scowled. "Divert 25% of our current artillery capacity to the defense of the bridges," he told the officer who stood just below him to his left before gesturing. "Focus fire on the High Orcs."

"Rock and Stone, brother," said the dwarven officer as he slammed his fist on his chest before turning to relay the specific orders into his magical communication artifact.

Several of the dwarven machines turned away from the high firing arcs they were using to aid the other battalion's assault, and brought both their magic cannons to bear on the much closer and completely exposed targets charging across the bridge. The effects were decisive.

The High Orcs, and many like it, were suddenly torn into pieces by a volley of high-grade magic blaster fire as they all detonate in a massive explosion.

The Orcs near the larger ones became sprays of senseless flesh bound within armor, bursting like children's water balloons against the onrushing palm of the concrete-like compression wave.

The murderous air was, itself, running ahead of something far more lethal, an expanding corona of heat and energy which atomized all it touched, blackening blood and shearing away the armor of uniforms before the remains contained within them could even touch the ground.

When the rising, electrically charged mushroom cloud had cleared away, it revealed a new chasm almost twice as wide as an Orc Warlord itself had been, leaving a large gap near the center of the bridge surrounded by molten and superheated metal.

Bombur braced himself as the shockwaves from the distant blast rolled over him, his helmet shaking slightly. When he raised his head to view the scene once more, he was shocked. Not by the power of the explosion or the damage it had caused, it was the Orcs that shocked him.

Despite an enormous amount of the Orcs' forces having been devoured by that blast, these green brutes were still trying to follow through on the assault!

It never stop surprising Bombur by these monstrosities and even wondered what is their view on this battle.

Hugging the sides of the bridge, burning boots and feet on cooling, glowing metal, the Orcs made their way around the superheated area which surrounded the hole. The dwarves sighed heavily, realizing with no small amount of annoyance that the Orcs would not be turned back.

Fine, then he and his men would force them back. He turned to his right, looking down at the officer standing nearby, ready to take his commands.

"Have the defense task force split into two groups and line up along our barricades on the first and second approach. Pick out the High Orcs where possible, and once they reach a quarter of the way across, open fire and keep it coming. Have the flame company move into cover behind the defenders and wait for further orders."

The officer nodded, wordlessly looking away before raising his Magical Communication Artifact as he began relaying the orders. Bombur turned back and watched the mass of varied dwarven troopers who stood before the walkers begin to march into position, white and yellow armor gleaming in the fading sun, the distant clouds having not dimmed it enough to hide the splendor of the dwarves' finest.

The dwarven troopers moved a short distance to the barricades, strong fortifications made of reinforced with adamantite, some of the central patches even being magic shielded as well.

The dwarves filled the spaces within and behind, weapons bristling from around and over the walls and shelters of the barricades as orders were barked, sergeants and officers clarifying priorities to eager troopers.

Bombur refocused on the Orcs, judging that the first column would reach the quarter mark before the second. Focusing his sight there, he could see the screaming, rabid ranks of the Orcs as they charged across the cleared bridge. They moved in disorganized mobs, shooting with their strange magic muskets as they ran, some more accurately than others, all either unaware or unmindful of the kill zone they were running into.

Bombur was looking at a horde of madmen, and he felt very little remorse in that moment as he watched his troopers open fire.

The result was a near-literal wall of magic blue bolts, and when it met the ragged first and second ranks of the charging Orcs, they reacted appropriately. Orcs were thrown off their feet, flesh burning and melting as their armor was burst open, scattering shards of shrapnel.

Orcs in armor staggered through the first, second, and third volleys, but began falling en masse as they were boiled alive inside their armor.

While dwarves had a very lower mana reserves around 1000 or less and it will take 100 mana units to shot one round of their magic muskets, they had a vast amount of mana potions on their Spatial Rings to refill their mana reserves.

The Orcs tried to fire back, running, roaring, and gunning, but the majority of their shots were horrendously inaccurate, regardless of the weapon they were attempting to use, and the fortifications stood against nearly all of the returning fire that managed to connect.

It was not long before the Orc Horde began to break and fell all around the bloody floor.

Feeling satisfied with the work being done there, the commander moved his sight to the direction where he recieve reports of elven forces and was about to order the artillery to bombard the area where they were.

Then, suddenly...

[Commander... I'm sorry,] came a voice over his magic comm.

Bombur's heads-up display showed him from where the message was coming from. The fact that it had come unbidden already told him it was a priority one message.

A glance at the name had him refocusing his magic binoculars to the as-yet-empty third bridge.

He saw... nothing.

No signs of continuing fire, nor any enemy charging down the avenue. He would have thought that meant they had retreated, but from the sound of Gaff's voice, he highly doubted it.

"What's happening, Gaff? What is your status?" he asked. There was a brief pause, and Bombur almost repeated himself before Gaff began speaking again.

[The humans charged the building, sir. Overran us at the lip. We made them pay badly for it, sir, real bad, but we were forced to give way. They forced their way into the Central District Marketplace and began isolating us.]

Bombur felt ice spike his veins. "Are you cut off? Why didn't you withdraw as planned?!" he yelled into his magic comm.

[I'm sorry, sir, I...I thought we could double around, hit them with a surprise counter-charge, maybe buy enough time to kill their commander. But it...we failed. But we are not cut off... we are withdrawing down the sub-access tunnels, the same way we came. We should be with you in a little while. We have a lot of wounded, Commander.]

Bombur sighed heavily but nodded his head in a gesture of acceptance. "Copy that, Gaff. Just finish getting your men out of there. As soon as you're clear, we are going to level that entire structure with the Mobile Drills, so don't take too long. Tell Catch to go ahead of the others, I want him here in case-"

[Catch is... Catch is dead, sir,] Gaff said, cutting his commander off.

The dwarf felt the world become a little less real. Catch... Catch had been his battle brother. They had survived many Orc attacks together for years!

"Are you sure, Captain?! Catch has lived through a lot worse than what these inferior bastards can put out!" Bombur insisted, teeth clenched.

[I'm sorry, Commander. Him and his whole squad, they-] the dwarf began.

"Are you SURE, Captain Gaff?! Are you one hundred percent sure?!" the commander demanded.

[Bombur, he was decapitated!] Gaff blurted.

A silence hung between them then, the only sounds being those of movement on Gaff's end, and those of battle on Bombur's.

"Understood. Get back here, Gaff, and let me know the INSTANT you and your men are clear of the Central Marketplace! Do you-"

"Commander, look! An Orc Warlord!" the officer to his left shouted, pointing with his off-hand.

The commander felt his heart stutter, felt the earlier chill return with nearly twice the force, running through him like a missed step in the dark. He cut the magic channel and look at them in the direction indicated, towards the frontline.

There it was, an Orc Warlord had just broken the front ranks and was striding forward, accompanied by twenty High Orcs carrying massive metal shields before them that were absorbing the firepower being put out by the troopers without difficulty.

Bombur blinked. He had heard tales of the infamous Orc Warlords which many of his superiors had fought, and this one had been encased fully in armor, to the point of seeming like an automaton.

Those details barely mattered, however, as an magic shell sailed into the rightmost shield-bearing warrior. The metal dented, and the giant Orc staggered but held firm as the shot rebounded away, striking the bridge to his left.

This scene repeated itself as more and more magical artillery fire was directed at them, the magic shells bouncing or rebounding off their impossibly thick shields.

How, by the many mountains, could these brutes be strong enough to do anything like that?!

Without speaking, Bombur reached down to his belt and withdrew a magic crystal. But linked to this small thing were the four other magic crystals his men had secured to the bottom of the first bridge. Just a single ounce of mana to channel on the crystal he held could activate the other magic crystals to explode.

One of the High Orcs fell, and then another, but they were not dying fast enough, their shields not failing quickly enough, the Orc Warlord didn't also seem enough.

The smaller Orcs around them were rallying, the tide of the rout turning even as the dwarves frenzied to take out those they could before the Orcs could get too close.

The lesser Orcs hid behind the shields of the larger ones, and soon they were past the halfway point, drawing closer and closer.

Golem Turrets were deployed, killing another two more of the High Orcs, but many more were left, and the Orcs who had made it with them had come too far to surrender now. They crossed the three-quarters mark, charging and roaring all the while.

Bombur felt his stomach twisting but reasserted his discipline.

"Order the men on the first bridge to pull back, away from the barricades. They have fifteen seconds to seek further cover," he told the officer to his right, his voice clipped and rushed, even more so than normal.

The dwarf nodded and did not even turn to the side as he began to hurriedly relay the orders into his helmet comm. The fire coming from the barricades on the first bridge ended abruptly, and the dwarves stationed there began to vault and leap back from the barricades, pulling comrades and equipment with them before ducking to the ground and covering their heads.

Bombur waited for the last possible moment, when he saw all the dwarves escape the blast radius, before he channeled a small amount of mana into the artifact.

The other magic crystals detonated in a row, starting with the one farthest from the barricades, and rolling forward with three more successive blasts.

Each dwarf charge dwarfed the explosion released by the dying High Orcs on the other bridge, erupting with the power of a weapon meant to tear 1st-Transcendents apart.

Flesh was peeled from bone in nanoseconds, and the High Orcs, their shields, even the Orc Warlord along with the smaller ones around them were blown into ashes, with those furthest from the blast centers being scooped up by the bone-grinding shockwaves, raining down as gorey giblets over the clones instead of vanishing without a trace.

The fortifications cracked, and most of the magicshields there failed, though the final charge was by no means placed very near to the end of the barricades. The whole bridge pitched and rattled, shedding metal and struts like a dragon shedding flakes of dead skin.

By the time the four fiery blasts had fully concluded, they had not left one large hole burnt through the structure but rather had left the entire structure of the bridge completely skeletal, with gaps and pitfalls now riddling its creaking, swaying surface.

It was a testament to Aquarius' architecture that the whole thing did not simply collapse into the chasm it spanned, where it would fall for hours before coming to rest hundreds of kilometers below.

The display of absolute destruction coupled with the very nearly untraversable state of the bridge finished the work the ambushes and magic blaster volleys should have completed long before now.

The enemy fully broke. The first bridge began an unabashed and disorganized retreat, running back the way they had come, taking even more fire as the Mobile Drills, which remained in their ambush points, began blasting once more, taking holes out of their routing army even as they attempted to sprint all the way back to their besieged base.

Bombur smiled behind his helmet, feeling a surge of confidence bolster him unexpectedly. After their recent losses, he had feared these Orcs would overwhelm them, even they had possessed strange devastating weapons.

[Commander Bombur! Commander! We are taking fire! The humans has taken up positions at the upper levels of the marketplace, they are blasting us, they are-]

The sudden, urgent message came from his priority comm, and a glance told him it was from the Mobile Drills that had been positioned for the third ambush. So it seemed those humans were going to make more noise than they already had.

He grit his teeth and responded. "This is Commander Bombur, pull back, you are to pull back now! Draw yourself away and to the north until we have cleared your ambush point!"

There was no response. Bombur repeated himself, and again, nothing came back. He almost spat in his helmet, looking towards the third bridge once more, seeing the flashing and hearing the telltale booms through the audio enhancers of his magic binoculars, but seeing nothing directly, not yet. He glanced back towards the second bridge, which was still an active battle.

"Sir, the human army has attack one of the bridges!"

"The inferiors?"

There, he saw with no small amount of frustration that the more organized soldiers in green had truly managed to dig in using nothing more than the armored corpses of the Orcs.

Now the humans were engaged in a standing firefight with the dwarves at the barricades with both sides exchanging laser-like projectiles with the humans red and the dwarves blue.

"Move the defense forces that had been positioned at the first bridge to the third, and tell them to prepare for an enemy assault. Give them the same firing orders," Bombur said.

He watched as those dwarves who had retreated from the cover of the first bridge now formed up and marched to the barricades that had been set up at the third.

And these barricades were the most extensive of all, thicker, with multiple layers to allow comfortable, overlapping lines of fire. Repeating magic blaster cannons were mounted every five meters along the frontmost layers, and more magic cannons had been set up in the rear.

These precautions he had taken due to the fact that the third bridge was the only bridge which bore no magic mines. The humans had no way of knowing this, of course, but he had layered more conventional defenses there to make up for the lack of charges.

It had been tempting to consider setting up explosive magic artifacts on all the bridges, but while he and his men could move between the buildings and platforms of the city using the smaller, interconnecting walkways and access passages, these larger roads were the only methods for the Walkers to travel about, and cutting them all off would prevent him from reinforcing the other generals, should they need it.

Satisfied with the enforcement of his order, the commander allowed his eyes to wander back up the far side of the third bridge, where they widened. Standing in ranks at the other end of the span, he saw them. They were almost fully assembled already, moving with the same trained, no, bred precision that Bombur himself had seen all his life in his own brothers.

But there was something else there, something he could not define, but that shook a part of him, deep within. These new humans were standing shoulder to shoulder. They wore black uniforms and coats, and their faces were completely hidden behind these strange mask.

They hefted thick rifles, and raised banners, which had a sideways white triangle on the left side with a strange sun symbol on the middle surrounded by a few stars. On the right side is two colors, red and black, with the red on the upper part while the black is on the bottom part.

Whatever those colors were, their meanings were lost on the dwarves.

Soon they were in position, hundreds upon hundreds of them, standing at attention in thick blocks. Then came the order to march.

They were so silent that Bombur could actually hear them through the magic binoculars.

"First Rank, Ready!"

BAM!!

The men of the first rank stomped and brought their rifles down to point forward in unison.

The officer, dressed little differently from his men, but holding a sparkling cavalry saber aloft in his hand, lowered it to point towards the enemy in sync with the bayoneted barrels of his men's guns.

"CHARRRGE!!"

The first rank broke off from the rest, first marching, then jogging, and finally running, all as one.

Bombur watched on in sick fascination, counting the seconds as the humans approached, and then passed the line into the killzone.

His men opened fire, once more becoming a storm of death, even more so than before. Magic musket repeaters strafed the front line, dropping humans in swathes of burning armor and flesh, yet those behind them did not pause, balk, hesitate, or even slow down as they trampled their own fallen.

The dead, the wounded, it mattered not.

The officer was blasted into chunks by the focused fire of over a hundred magic blaster from the dwarves' magic muskets, but not one of the masked troopers turned to look, save for the one who went to retrieve his sword, lifting it into the air and wordlessly taking his position.

That was another thing Bombur began to notice, the utter silence of them. Occasionally, one of the struck or dying would cry out, but even then, the majority of them simply fell silently, dying even less dramatic deaths than monsters. They were so silent he could hear the next whistle, despite the distance.

"Second Rank, Ready!"

The dwarven commander's eyes departed the scene of death at the front to draw his vision back to the rear of the bridge. There, he saw the scene repeating itself, the troopers preparing to begin their death march.

"Charge!"

Came the call, and they did. Meanwhile, the first rank was making surprisingly good headway. Where men would begin to tire, these masked soldiers only sped up, and where men would slow, if only to carefully step around the dead and dying, these men paid no heed, indeed, seemed well trained in the grotesque art of stepping over bodies without losing their balance.

Their losses were hideous, but they bore them as if they were nothing, as if they themselves were already the walking dead.

"Get another 15% of our artillery firing on the third column. Just the third," the commander told his artillery officer.

The dwarf nodded, and turned to see the work be done. Soon, death was raining thickly down upon the first ranks of these uncaring soldiers, blasting them apart, searing through them as magic cannons scythed into their ranks.

Bombur felt a smile of relief slip onto his face as the entirety of the first rank died just as they reached the halfway point, falling without ceremony. Their legacy was left as nothing more than a trampled line of the dead and the mostly silent dying who lay among them.

Those that could picked themselves up and attempted to continue their charge, while others did what they could to heft their weapons and fire from where they fell.

All but those that managed to pull themselves to the very sides of the bridge were crushed to death under the boots of their brothers in the second rank, and the sight killed any joy Bombur had felt.

Already the second rank was being mauled to death, but they had walked past the halfway point. Which meant...

Another whistle.

"Third Rank, Ready! For God and Country! Humanity Reigns Supreme!! Charge!!!"

Bombur had seen this kind of thing before. This was the start of a situation that was about to roll out of his control, and he had to stem the turn now!

"I want 50% of all of our artillery capacity going to the third bridge! Everything we've already reallocated, plus whatever else we need to add to get us there," Bombur ordered.

"Sir, the General is relying on that support!" The dwarven officer said.

Bombur grit his teeth, eyes focused on the far side of the bridge again.

"Fourth Rank! Ready!"

"That's why we are only taking 50%! Now follow my order, soldier!" the dwarven commander snapped.

"Sir, yes sir!" The dwarf said hastily, relaying the commands.

Bombur almost held his breath as he watched the orders take effect, and breathed out a sigh at the results. The second rank was obliterated in short order, and while the third rank had made progress, it certainly would not be enough now with this new rate of loss. The bridge was almost shaking with the amount of fire being poured into the wide mouth of the avenue.

Idly, his eyes moved back to the rear of the line, and bulged in his skull.

"Death Riders, first Cadre! Ready!" came the call. But it was not men who stomped in response.

It was... horses!

A line of cavalry made up of enormous, claw-hoofed horses bearing more masked men, each one wielding a long lance or spear. They lowered these weapons, as the infantry had done with their rifles.

"Charge!" The beasts leapt forward at the command, and Bombur struggled to keep them in view of his binoculars.

For some reason, the horses ran so fast, like they were propelled by raw unnatural muscle! In seconds, they were coming up on the tail of the nearest group of soldiers. And then, with leaps so long and powerful they nearly appeared to take flight, the horses lunged over the entire fourth rank, and began gaining on the third.

But, despite the metal masks which covered the faces of the speeding beasts, they were mostly naked animals, and Bombur had faith that they too would disintegrate in the withering hail of magic blaster fire and artillery that was, even then, decimating the third rank.

He was horrified to find he was wrong.

The horses leapt the thinning remains of the third ranks, and began to weave. Looking carefully, Bombur could see that the beasts performed these maneuvers without the need of the riders to direct them, the riders focusing on bracing their lances and keeping balance as their animals bounded to and fro, leaving trails of magic blaster fire in their wake.

Those caught in crossfire or blasted by the artillery rain showed incredible resilience, either shrugging off the wounds completely or requiring an absurd amount of trauma to put down.

Nothing exemplified that more than the two-legged horse. Now riderless, it had suffered a near direct strike from a Mobile Drills, which had taken the back half of its body clean off.

Its intestines had been snagged and pulled free, but the beast seemed not to heed its own destroyed body in the least, blood gushing from its rent form as it galloped forward on just its front legs. The sound the beast made into its metal faceplate was almost as horrible as the sight of its charging form.

Bombur found himself transfixed, but then he noticed the artillery fire around the abomination thinning, and he realized how close it and the others of its kind were getting to the barricades.

"Oh Kraken's tits! Get the fire squads ready to take their shots, tell them to be careful not to hit the back of the fortifications, but tell them to expect possible enemy assaults getting around the barricades!" he ordered.

The commander looked back towards Bridge Two and cursed again. The battle was going well, but it was still going! He reached into his belt and pulled out his second magic detonator.

"Tell the defense forces at Bridge Two to break off and-" he started to say, but it was too late. The Death Riders had reached the fortifications, most of their number still intact and fighting.

But they did not deal any death onto the men of the barricades, well, most of them didn't. The two-legged horse threw itself into one of the firing emplacements, even as the creature itself was turned to ribbons by it. Its speeding corpse collided with the gun, dislodging it and crushing the dwarf who had been manning it. The others, however, leapt over the whole defense force, landing behind them and continuing their charge.

But what were they charging at, if not the troopers? The answer was obvious: the artillery!

Bombur looked to his infantry command officer and shoved the magic detonator into the dwarf's hands.

"Take this! Get all the men manning the second bridge defenses here, now! Activate the magic charges when they are clear, then pick up a magic musket and help me!" he yelled.

The dwarf nodded and Bombur turned to his opposite side as he climbed down from the top of the cannon. "You, sound the alarm, we are about to be attacked!" he ordered the artillery officer, who now stood beside him.

The dwarf saluted and did as ordered while Bombur strapped himself into the magic turret and aimed at the advancing steeds. They were charging past the fire squads now, who opened up with their flaming magic weapons, catching nearly a quarter of the advancing horsemen in the fiery maws of their magic weapons.

But for all that, not one of the humans stopped, both beast and rider advancing forward with the same ferocity as they had displayed before being set ablaze.

He set the magic cannon to auto-load his shots, which would give him the quickest rate of fire on this slow cannon, and honed in on his first target, the only rider among them whose face was bare.

Though the riders were cast in shadows, the clouds now having obscured the sun completely, he could see that his target was a woman, who wore some sort of black and red armor with a white mask on her helmet.

She was likely the leader of this charge.

He had already seen how ineffective targeting their leader was when it came to blunting the charges of these masked men, but that still meant she was as good as any other target.

He pulled the trigger. The magic cannon thunked and then fired, its solid magic shell spiraling as it pierced the air in a high-pitched howl of death. But the horse leapt clear of his shot, and the shallow crater he had created availed him nothing.

He grit his teeth, trying to fire again, only to receive a red warning reticle which reminded him that the cannon was not ready for the next shot.

The magic turrets in front of the Mobile Drills began to open fire, strafing and cornering two of the riders, having far more luck by combining their efforts than he was having alone. Bombur found her again, and fired just as the rolling sounds and shockwaves of the magic charges rocked everything around them. And he missed.

"Blast it!" he yelled, kicking the console, and unstrapping himself, climbing onto the side of the Magic cannon and down until he was standing on top of the machine's cockpit.

No sooner had he managed it than the first mobile machine fell to the ground not far from him, first rocked by a sudden explosion, before toppling over.

It was the lances, they were explosive! The riders would rush by, jamming their weapons into the wheels of the dwarven machines, breaking the heads off and riding away moments before they detonated, throwing the machines to the ground.

And then he saw three riders coming for him and his Mobile Drill. They had no way of easily toppling something like this, so he knew they would aim for the cockpits in the front. And that was why he had positioned himself there.

Compensating for the speed of his magic bolts with experience and rate of fire, Bombur began blasting with both weapons, veering them into the path of the first rider. His high mana-powered shots blew small, circular troughs into the ground as Bombur tried to chase and catch the speeding human with his weapons, crying out in furious elation when he finally managed it, blowing the rider away, though the beast charged on.

But he paid the animal no heed. It was the lances and their bearers that he was concerned with. The dwarven commander oriented onto the next masked rider, this one blazing with fire as a result of the flaming magic weapons.

Bombur began pelting the human and his beast with magic shots, but despite this, the human did not die and did not falter, no matter how brutal the rain of punishment that assailed him became.

In the end, the charging warrior was stopped by the dwarven gunners beneath the dwarven commander, who clipped the horse's legs out from under it, causing the beast to begin to fall and pitch forward.

Maddeningly, the rider managed to rise on his saddle and threw himself forward the instant before the war beast beneath him fell and rolled to an agonized death.

Lance still in hand, body aflame, he seemed to lunge with his weapon thrust out, though still he did not cry out or scream. Not that doing so would have saved him from Commander Bombur's continuing hail of magic blaster fire, which slammed into the black-clothing human soldier the moment he lost the ability to duck and weave.

However, the lance still flew forward and struck one of the Mobile Drill's wheels, blowing it off and causing the machine to jerk and list to the left.

Bombur found himself sliding down the flat roof of the cockpit, and his eyes widened as the third rider came upon them.

He tried to fire his magic musket at it but his shots were wild and inaccurate, as were those of the gunners. Without thinking, he roared and threw himself forward moments before the enemy's exploding lance smashed into the cockpit of the machine.

The explosion helped to propel him through the air as his path came to intersect that of the third rider, dropping his magic musket and letting it hang by its strap as he extended his arms. His soaring tackle connected a moment later and threw the rider clean off the horrific horse which bore the human into battle.

They both hit the ground hard and rolled in the churned, loamy earth. Bombur rose first, head swimming, utterly disoriented as chaos reigned all around him. The dwarven crews were doing their level best to fight off the sudden flash assault, but they were unprepared.

Without the support of the Thunder Warriors, catching and killing the riders was proving more than difficult, and the Mobile Drills were dropping and exploding left and right.

He was so dazed by the sight, that he almost didn't react in time to avoid being pulverized. The rider he had knocked off the horse had come for him.

It was the same armored human woman, unmasked, face set in a furious bloodthirsty grin as she curved her enormous sparking sword down towards him.

He threw himself out of the way just in time, her blow causing a flash of light, and a cascade of dirt to rain down all around them.

She withdrew her sword, which is about the size of a helicopter rotor, from the crater she had created and turned to face him again, her sadistic expression appearing even more shockingly crazed in person than had been depicted over the targeting system of the magic turret.

"You!" Bombur yelled, raising his Magic Musket still clutched in his hand and firing.

She growled like an animal and swept her sword in front of her, and the adamantite steel on the blade absorbed the magic bolts.

"Adamantite??" Bombur muttered, baffled as to how these humans were able to possess those rare and powerful metals.

Just then, her other hand whipped up and out, wielding one of the thick bizarre bolt pistols of the command class.

The dwarf kept firing to keep her from taking steady shots, but he felt the rush of death thrill his entire system as he leapt up, zig-zagging as he fired. He could feel the showers of dirt tossed up by the exploding ammunition of her weapon, could feel the shocks of the stone and metal shrapnel scrape and scratch against his magic armor as he moved and fired to stay alive.

But then she shot right where he had planned to step, and while the bolt had detonated before he had moved his foot there, it had succeeded in creating a heated slurry out of the earth, and as he pressed his weight down, the dwarven commander found himself slipping, falling, and leaving him helpless before the muzzle of her gun.

But to his surprise, the shot she sent to finish him swung wide when a small hail of magic blaster bolts rained into her from the left, making her grunt as she was sent sprawling to the earth, her gun arm cooked to ruin.

The dwarven officer ran forward with a long magic musket held out as he approached, shooting the armored human a few more times to keep her down before going to his commander and helped him up out of the dirt. He saluted Bombur, not waiting for acknowledgement as he began to report.

"Second half of the defense group is heading here now, sir, even as we speak. First half is still holding the bridge," he said.

Bombur nodded and slapped the dwarf's shoulder pad, elated to be alive. "Good! Call in the medical team. We are going to have a lot of wounded, and we may need the support besides," the dwarven commander said.

The dwarven officer saluted again, and began relaying the orders. Bombur took the time to survey the battle and, after a few painful moments of observation, wished he hadn't.

The flame company was uselessly chasing the horses around, along with the survivors of the machine crews and what few troopers had still been here. The defense force would arrive soon, but until then, they had almost no way of stopping the cavalry running amok.

Already Bombur could see that they had used up most if not all of their lances and had switched to swiping at men with sabres and firing their strange muskets with their free hands. He and his men needed some kind of ace, a pincer, something to counterattack with.

"Also, tell the Mobile Drills on the other side of the chasm," Bombur added, a plan starting to form in his mind, "to come in from behind the enemy force and-"

The dwarven commander was cut off as the dwarven officer in front of him was suddenly blasted into a thousand pieces, the force of the blow which dismembered the dwarf enough to send Bombur himself falling back a few feet.

He scrambled in the dirt, wiping at the gore covering his visor as he looked up at the form that loomed over him.

Dyed red by the blood, and backlit by dark, roiling clouds which churned and hummed with distant lightning, the female human general that he had watched his officer put down staggered into view.

Blood dripped from her chin, and half her face was seared. Her gun arm hung limply, clearly useless at her side, and the uniform around her torso was pockmarked with blaster burns, which revealed the cracked and hissing adamantite armor.

Though her expression was still one of unremitted bloodthirst, she was no longer grinning.

"Disgusting alien mutant," she spat, each word slathered in malice.

The deranged woman dragged herself forward, and he raised his pistol, opening fire on her. The woman in red and black armor snarled and blocked the shots easily, staggering closer, and then halting, a look of mortal fury coloring her face.

Bombur wondered what had happened until he saw white-armored boots begin to filter into his vision.

He looked around and found the defense group had finally arrived, the men surrounding him, magic muskets out and aimed towards her.

"Fire at that inferior bitch!"

Pew! Pew! Pew! Pew! Pew!

Trese staggered back, her leg, which had been clearly wounded in the volley, almost giving out with the movement. His troopers helped him up, and Bombur aimed his magic musket at the woman.

"Disgusting murderous cultists!" he spat back at her.

Her face flushed and she stepped forward, falling to one knee with the act, her weaponized fist sparking and pulsing but unable to reach him under the rain of magic bullets impacting against her adamantite armor.

Just then, the volley of magic bullets stopped, and Bombur removed his blood-streaked helmet before handing it to the dwarf next to him as he sneered at her.

"Any last words, inferior woman?"

The female general smirked through the pain and her lips curled as if she knew a secret they didn't.

"Look up."

Confusion flickered across the dwarves' faces, but instinct made them glance skyward, and what they saw made their eyes widen in horror.

The AH-74 "Heaven's Punch" Heavy Attack Helicopter roared into view with its obsidian frame gleaming under the crimson sunset. Arcane sigils pulsed along its hull as its mana-enhanced chaingun spun to life, and the world erupted into chaos.

BRRRRRRRRRRRR!!

Thunderous bursts of energy rounds shredded through dwarven ranks, cutting down warriors in a storm of red fire and molten metal.

Their frontline Mobile Drilling Machines rumbled and turned their runed cannons toward the airborne beast, but before they could fire, a couple of humans secretly placed down quick well-placed EMP charges that quickly detonated and crackled with disrupting energy.

The war machines groaned and sputtered with their engines momentarily silenced.

The Heaven's Punch didn't waste the opportunity. With a hellish shriek, it unleashed a volley of mana-laced missiles, each spiraling toward their disabled prey, and the resulting inferno swallowed the battlefield whole, sending dwarves scrambling for cover.

Some refused to flee and aimed their magic muskets at the aircraft to fire desperate magic blasts. Sparks danced harmlessly across its Orichalcum-plated hull.

In the middle of the carnage, the dwarven commander staggered to his feet as his enchanted armor barely held together. Smoke and fire reflected in his furious eyes as he turned, trying to rally his soldiers-

Click!

A cold metal barrel pressed against his temple. General Trese stood before him, still bloody, still beaten, but her victorious smirk never faded.

"You shouldn't have taken off your helmet," she whispered.

Bombur screamed his defiance in response, and Trese silenced his cry with one shot. The dwarf dropped backward into the dirt, never to rise again with a hole in his head.

All around them, the rest of the maddened cavalry was already engaging with and hunting down the defense force. The next several minutes saw the soldiers of the 19th Black Armored Division massing to corner and drag down each and every single one of the dwarves, none of whom ever chose to retreat, despite ample opportunity to do so.

By the time the last of them had been blasted to death, much more time had passed than Trese would have considered acceptable. Soon a new officer was selected to take the place of the man the dwarf had killed, and he stood by awaiting orders.

Despite the successes thus far, things had become suddenly bleak, and above them all, rumbling clouds which sparked and flashed began to release the very first drops of what was sure to be another of this world's freezing rains.

Trese grit her teeth and stepped forward. "Come on troopers! Do I need to remind you of the strategic importance of our position here?!" she gestured with her pistol towards the shining buildings of Aquarius City. "Look back there! See those buildings? They are full of enemies we are here to destroy, this whole city is! Our mission is to take this city, and take it swiftly! Being down on ourselves is a luxury the Empire cannot afford. We are the key to this assault, the other battalions are counting on our support! If we fail, everyone fails! Do you all understand this?!"

"Yes, ma'am!" The men around her roared.

"Then get your fire back, we have hard work ahead, and it's only going to get harder! Move to reinforce the barricades and pull back the wounded. Form a defensive line and set up our own artillery! Are you ready?!"

"Yes, ma'am!" They said again.

Trese raised her hand and clenched her fist as if to catch the falling rain, which was, even then, beginning to blanket them all, turning the dirt into mud, and burying the Dwarven Commander's broken body under fresh slurries of liquid earth.

"We are the Black Armored Legion, the Soldiers of the Storm! We will make sure Humanity reigns supreme in this God-forsaken world, no matter the cost! Now move out!"