Everything about this whole thing was a bad idea, at least from Bengar’s point of view. Still, he kept being the ever obedient soldier and followed his orders.
That’s how he had ended up alone close to enemy territory.
Remind them why Flame still fears the Titan Slayer …
He grimaced at the mere thought of this order. Malice was crazy for wanting him to do that. But then again, Malice being somewhat crazy was the reason she was already feared despite being the youngest of the Imperators.
Bengar sighed, rolled around his head and shoulders and forced a few cracks out of his neck, then he stepped out of the shadows and unto the open field right in front of that damn, oh so important bridge Dominion was holding at the moment.
Scouts spotted him instantly, as they should. The few additional sniper shots were no match for his magical barrier. He just kept on strolling out into the fields, still keeping his disguise up. Of course they recognized who he was, or who they believed him to be.
“If that ain’t Tribune Dustclaw. What brings you here?” A young female charr with white fur and brown hair hopped down from a previously very well hidden sniper nest. If his information were correct, this had to be Vishen Steelshot.
“Orders … you know? The usual stuff we all have to deal with.” Bengar grinned, pointing at the young scout. “I bet you’ve already called in backup, am I  right?”
Vishen snorted, then shouldered her sniper rifle. “As I should. What the hell does Imperator Swordshadow want? Not her style to send the big guns out, especially not out in the open.”
“Aw you got me.” Shrugging, Bengar did his best to remain his nonchalant façade.
To his surprise, Vishen had called in more backup than he would have thought. A small army marched across the bridge and towards him. So they were at least very aware of how much of a threat he was. More foresight than he would have expected. But then again, it was most likely the result of Ruinbringer knowing him a little too long.
His present disguise was pretty long lived, so that one was on him.
Another charr peeled out of the masses, staff in hand and already eyeing Bengar over in wait of an attack. If people hadn’t been talking shit, this poor broad faced guy with ginger fur was Nicabar Steelweaver.
So he had to deal with two members of the Steel warband?
At least he could seemingly keep his promise to Brimmstone and spare his cub.
But these two were the unlucky ones to deliver the message Malice wanted him to deliver. Though maybe not without getting their asses beaten first. That one was a given.
“Pyre Dustclaw … was not expecting to see you anytime soon. Your imperator must already be desperate.” Nicabar weighed his staff and threw it up to catch it again. “Or she wants to get rid of you … either way. You’re either coming with us as our prisoner or we send Malice your corpse.”
“That’s Imperator Swordshadow for you, Cub.” Bengar growled.
They wanted to play cocky? Fine with him. Made it easier for him to hand them their asses.
“Whatever.” Vishen turned to the small army Nicabar had brought along. “Take Tribune Dustclaw prisoner by any means necessary!”
Roars and rattling weaponry had Bengar sigh.
These fools weren’t expecting anything, and he pitied them for it.
“Actually, …” Forming a cloud of magic energy between his hands, Bengar started to grin. “… I have to thank you for bringing so many people. That’ll make executing my orders easier.”
Cloud still between his hands, he shattered the illusion containing his looks.
The few Flame soldiers in their ranks shrieked like cubs, some dropped their weapons, and few intelligent ones started running already.
Instead of a healthy looking charr with all ginger fur they now saw the true looks. He was still broad of build and his height hadn’t changed either. But his fur was now snow white, his tiger stripes grey, his hair shorter and just as grey as his markings. The horn on his right cheek was but a stump, visibly the result of being molten, his upper left horn was broken off. He missed his ring claw on his left hand and the thumb on his right was visibly crippled.
The screams from the fleeing ones were utterly priceless.
“IT’S THE FUCKING TITAN SLAYER!!!”
“RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!”
“THE TITAN SLAYER … RUN!!!!”
Bengar had to restrain a chuckle. He had thought watching Efram freak out was priceless, but these soldiers were even better. They scattered the ranks and created utter chaos in their futile attempt to get away.
Unleashing the cloud between his hands sealed their fate. It grew fast and swallowed the area up, soldiers banging against the barrier he had just forged. He saw some of them scrambling back to their feet to scratch on the barrier, as if it would go away this way.
Nicabar and Vishen were visibly confused, not only by the change of his looks, but also by the ex Flame soldiers running for their lives.
“Steelshot, Steelweaver.”
They looked at Bengar, utterly puzzled.
“Allow me to reintroduce myself. I am the myth your dipshit of an Imperator was named after. Bengar Dustclaw, pleased to meet you.” He couldn’t help but end his introduction with a little bow. “And as per orders of Imperator Malice Swordshadow, you and your soldiers will now learn why those Flame cubs are already running.”
Black smoke shot out of Bengar’s two broken Horns and his missing finger, winding around him to cover him up. They changed his form, cracking his back open for spikes and webbed wings to burst out of it, he grew massively in size, his claws extended far beyond their regular reach, two more eyes formed and the soldiers in front of him collectively shrank down, cowering in fear.
Exactly what Malice had intended.
Bengar snorted when the first ones snapped out of their shock. Of course it had to be Vishen and Nicabar.
They yelled at their soldiers, commanded for them to stay strong and much to Bengar’s amusement ordered them to still take him prisoner.
That was comedy gold.
Or so he thought when he felt the shot of a canon hitting his back, throwing him down on one knee.
Oh you filthy little suckers …
With a roar he channeled chaos magic roughly around the area where the shot had to come from and turned it into a storm. The magic ripped trees out, reduced boulders to mere pebbles, and trapped a destroyed canon, as well as some now dead soldiers in its cold, merciless embrace.
Them shooting him in his back seemingly returned their soldiers spark, roaring, they charged and attacked. Bengar repelled them with a shockwave of pure magic. Few managed to land on their feet and charge again.
He easily ripped them in half with his claws.
Blinking steel warned him just in time to get out of the way. Vishen managed to actually graze him with her shot. Blood ran down his cheek and Bengar glared the sniper down.
She was good, he gave her that. Better even than some archers in his times.
But he was no regular enemy.
Within the blink of an eye, the monstrous charr stood behind her, ripping the rifle out of her grasp and throwing her unto the bridge and into her own troops.
Firebolts hit him from the side, Bengar screaming out and swatting after the fire. It only managed to burn off some of his fur, but enough to lay the scars hidden beneath open.
He hopped down from the position he had fished Vishen out of and unleashed some of his magic, covering himself in ghostly blue flames. Once again it struck fear into his enemies, but then another canon shot hit him and he flew and had to roll over the grounds to catch balance again.
Bloody canons …
How many had they hidden around the area?
And once again the canon hit returned the soldiers’ will to fight. Bengar roared, sending the flames covering his body out to burn down the first few charging.
Despite their comrades being burned to cinders, they kept charging.
They really want to fell me … as you wish …
Bengar ripped soldier after soldier to shreds, yet their numbers gave them the obvious advantage. A lot of soldiers managed to reach him, slashing at him with their swords, axes and whatnot.
A damn firing squad unleashed a barrage he could hardly repent. Though he managed to keep vital parts safe, his arms and legs took a severe beating, blood streaming out and fast.
Let them find confidence before you start slaughtering … thanks for nothing Malice!
They were surprisingly effective in wounding him, but then again he hadn’t fought in this form for over 400 years. And never alone against modern war machinery either.
Sneering, he unleashed another shockwave, before he stood tall again.
Energy Surge!
His first spell formed a magical bolt, flying through the ranks, hitting enough soldiers fatally to slow their attacks down.
Spiritual Pain!
Even more fell victim to his second spell. Enough had fallen for him to pull some surprises out of his sleeve. He crossed his claws in front of his forehead, focusing on his next spell.
Clamor of Souls!
Soldiers started screaming out before they were hit by ghostly lighting.
That’s when another canon shot hit him.
“Alright, you don’t want to wait your turn? Then die now!”
Feast of Corruption!
He heard screams throughout the woods, then nothing but silence from there. All the while the magic that had just killed everyone in the forest flowed back, healing some of his wounds in turn.
Channeling shadow magic into his hands, he jumped into the mass of remaining soldiers. Every time his hands so much as grazed one of them, they started to scream out before collapsing. Very few had the doubtful luck of surviving his touch based magic, most just died.
Yet even fewer did not die or fall unconscious due to his attack.
Magic of all sorts kept crushing into him, just like bullets, swords, axes and hammers.
Spiteful Spirit!
Empathy!
Spirit Shackles!
Unleashing three spells, curses to be precise, Bengar made his enemies feel every bit of pain they inflicted on him, as if they were the ones being attacked.
Snipers dropped their weapons, coughing up blood from the curses mimicking them being shot, Warriors fell to the ground screaming, as if they had been the one’s being cut, Mages experienced what it was like to be on the receiving end of their own magic.
The battlefield finally fell silent.
With the deed seemingly done, Bengar dragged himself out of their ranks before he recalled the smoke to return to his regular form.
Just as the last bit of smoke returned to him, he heard the rattling of someone trying to get up, using their weapon as support.
Turning around, he saw Nicabar scrambling to his feet, holding a large cut on his chest shut and heavily bleeding from his nose.
“We’re not done … done yet, Dustclaw.” The younger charr dragged himself over, Bengar watching him while breathing heavily himself.
Summoning his last strength, he managed to walk over to Nicabar like he wasn’t wounded at all and simply punched him in the guts.
Nicabar grunted, then sacked to the ground, getting a last glimpse of Bengar before falling unconscious.
“We’re more than done, Cub.” Panting and staggering, Bengar took a few steps back in an attempt to recatch balance. Without success.
He fell down, landing flat on his back. If it wasn’t for the blood loss, this would’ve been easier. Evidently Malice was trying to kill him.
Uneasy grin on his lips, he recalled the barrier spell, then fell unconscious himself.
