12 Miles Below

How had it come to this?

To’Avalis stared at the combat log in disbelief. Behind, more power was being funneled into his super-cooler, struggling to keep his attached shell under temperature.

He’d been running his overclock at maximum. Prepared even to take it past the theoretical limits. This broken down half-dead shell of a dead demi-god hunter was malfunctioning already. He couldn’t calculate fast enough to-

How inept the warrior must be to blame his sword for the lack of skill. I weep at what your generation has become.

“Skill has nothing to do with it.” Avalis hissed back, focusing on the map, eyes twitching in place.

It was impossible.

He was submitting several thousand commands per second.

His opponent, whatever creature it was, was doing several hundred million a second.

It was utterly impossible for the enemy commander to be a human. They had to be a protofeather of some kind, brought back online.

Hoo? Is that who you think your enemy is?

Obviously it was. If he could find the grave of one, and dig up the weapon it used, then the Winterscar could certainly do the same. And being a protofeather, they surely would be more amicable to humanity’s cause, the traitors.

It had to be a protofeather.

I’ve hunted and killed protofeathers, little invader. I recognize demi-gods when I see them. Today, you fight a true god. Enjoy your defeat. I certainly will.

“SHUT UP.” He screamed, forcing his systems to shutter, then ripping apart the intrusion. “SHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUP-”

The western anterior chamber at location seventeen turned red. Lost. So did seven other positions one after another before he instantly tightened the sinking ship and buffered the other locations with a few instant backup deployment options he’d been holding on reserve. Then he redirected defenses to shore up those backup locations in case they’d been compromised earlier and the enemy was waiting specifically for the readjustment.

He was correct, his scouts reported the retreating figures of several Deathless moving out of sight.

Deathless that hadn’t been noticed by anyone up till now, lurking behind the front lines.

Who had probably been inches away from attacking, and were now falling back instead all because he'd sent in the backup.

If he could feel a bead of fear roll down his back, he would have right this moment. But there was no sweat capable on this shell, and he wouldn’t allow the enemy to rattle him further.

What he felt like was being watched. That the enemy had somehow known far too much. They’d launched their counter offensive at his major holding grounds in the exact same moment his miserable broken down shell decided to torment him.

Which meant… “Are you sneaking information to the enemy? How?”

His body was betraying him this rapidly? And going so far as to work with whatever entity was on the other end of the human defenses?

Me? Working with humans? You go too far with your insults.

He shook his head clear and focused on the tactical layers. Every time he moved to resolve one breach, ten more moved around him as if the enemy knew his real goals, predicted his counter defenses, and even assumed for information they couldn’t have guessed in terms of resources.

He could tell that because a handful of the offensive maneuvers he'd seen were slightly overkill - they could have sent one or two less Deathless among those excursions, which meant a sub-optimal attack.

That was it. The only evidence To’Avalis had that who he was fighting wasn’t completely all-knowing. Just a few slight over-estimations on his own defense force numbers. Everything else had been near flawless.

He felt like an intermediate chess player fighting a true grandmaster. He knew and understood the tactical layer enough to appreciate how utterly outmatched he was.

Still, the western anterior chamber couldn’t be lost, it would lead directly to the presidium and past the courtyard, which would finally reconnect to the wallside defenders. The size of his portals was the limiting issue, he couldn’t bring to bear the larger forces yet. The larger ordinance were already on their way, and so long as the wallside did not have the entity there fighting him off, he had a chance of getting that ordinance across the biome safely.

The walls remained held by the older Deathless there, but they were holding ground by pure offensive power and entrenched defenses. There wasn’t a hint of the surgical coordination that the Winterscar front showed, which meant communications with the wallside defenses had not been connected yet.

But are they really? They tricked you once already. How can you be certain they haven’t again?

That... had been a thing. A portion of human defenses had remained fighting his forces with the same detached patterns of other isolated human pockets. Until he moved his forces away from that pocket to reinforce another front.

It had surged out of control almost instantly, ripping apart his leftover forces, and then went hunting down his currently repositioning ones, creating an instant defeat in detail, followed by a catastrophic loss of territory.

He’d been baited into splitting his forces.

All because of a single wire that had been secreted up to them through the walls, hidden from sight until it was near enough to transmit orders.

And worse, he now couldn’t move his forces around freely in case that happened again. He’d never be able to tell if a pocket of resistance was truly an isolated set of human survivors or a hidden trap that had found some alternate means of bypassing the jammers, waiting to launch out.

It was a game of inches. Outright inches.

A single misplaced or overextended unit and the enemy would rip apart a position.

He double checked the process of the occult highways outside the biome. If he could just get his actual ordinance in range of the walls and start firing, the entire fortress would be melted scrap soon enough. Then it wouldn’t matter if he’d deployed his units a few centimeters off position. He’d have the entire thing torn down.

Laughable. Those walls were built by Talen himself. Deep within, those defenses remain. And his grandkin infest the grounds, ready to power them when called on.

To’Avalis knew better than to divert even an instant of attention to the voice in the back of his head. He didn’t care if the stolen shell was fighting him off. “Once I win, I will have my old shell again. You can take whatever scraps you want, I could care less. Mother’s already ordered it. Fall in line.”

Oh, I don’t intend to get in your way at all. I won't need to wait for much longer regardless.

The largest machines were still tearing their way through the walls and structures of other biomes, slowly tunneling into this biome in order to open fire. But after a few roadblocks, To’Avalis calculated they wouldn’t matter. They wouldn’t get here in time. The ghost in his stolen shell had a point.

The forces To’Avalis had at his disposal right this moment were all he’d get. Each one destroyed was nearly unreplaceable.

Not because the empire had limits, but moving that many forces here would take too long.

But deep down, he felt like he had already lost.

He’d thrown everything at the human from the very start and somehow Keith Winterscar had dodged, jumped, ducked, or even accidentally stumbled in all the perfect ways to avoid every attack and hit. It was like he knew how everything was going to happen, and exactly what to do to avoid it all.

He should have been dead a thousand times over within the first few minutes of the fight, and instead he was now sitting in the most unreachable location in the entire fortress and there was nothing To’Avalis could do to get to him.

He wanted to rip his hair out.

But there was a single light in this tunnel. “He can’t dodge a thousand explosions.”

Once his ordinance made it to fire on the walls and into the fortress, it was over. And the ones that made it on time were now halfway through this insane biome.

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He doesn’t need to dodge such crude attempts. Talen comes, little invader. You haven’t fought the mad emperor before. But I have. I’ve seen him. And there is no victory to be found on the other side of his gaze.

To’Avalis couldn’t tell if he had overestimated his abilities, or if reality itself was conspiring against him. Commanding a full army in highly coordinated methodical fights while he had all the advantages in troop composition, size, power, and mobility along with a dedicated overclock station keeping him coordinating everything at maximum speed - he should have crushed any other opponent.

This was what he was built for. This was how he had won every other fight. By outmaneuvering and outplanning his enemy.

Instead, he was being outmanuvered, and out planned by something far more terrifying than anything he’d ever seen.

What kind of monster had the humans unearthed? What kind of primordial entity could do this?

He felt like he was fighting back a tidal wave with only a bucket. The sea slowly building up. Inevitably going to wash over his castle in sand.

And then he saw the kill stroke.

The third generation Feathers had been considered the most useless Feathers he had under his command. He’d put them in the one position he could be certain just their existence alone would contribute enough. They couldn’t possibly fail him there.

It should have been a side objective. One last attempt to bait the Winterscar out into the portals, or at least rip apart some of his defenders. The jammers were never supposed to be an essential asset, the best organized defenses humans could do with communication was still under human limits after all.

He’d heard muted reports that humans on the surface and the first strata were pulling off a spirited defense, and holding ground, but he had assumed Relinquished was simply toying with them. Giving humanity a fighting chance only to swallow them completely with her full army. He didn’t dare look deeper into Mother’s affairs, for fear of getting caught in her ire. The machine network was down, double checking with how the rest of humanity was fighting wasn't as simple as demanding an update request.

But he should have taken the time to verify.

Now, with whatever was commanding the humans, keeping their communications down had become the only reason Avalis still had any chance to win. All he had to do was buy time for the ordinance to make it in range of the wall. He didn't need to win the fight for the citadel.

And as he read through the message that had blared out all across the fortress, he felt a pit of despair. Knowing what would happen next.

The voice behind his systems started laughing without mercy.

It seems, perhaps, I did not even need to wait until Talen breaks your spine. How ironic, it comes from your nemesis himself. The killing blow. How delightfully fitting. I would say it was... adequate knowing you, however we both know that would be a lie so I'll simply let you know I deeply look forward to what happens next.

To'Avalis could already calculate what would happen. The Feathers would all disobey, run out of position, directly into a meat grinder. And all die off in the dozens or one at a time, and ruin everything he was struggling to hold onto.

Everything.

And there wasn't a thing he could do to stop it other than stare at his own forces commit their own stupid suicide.

All because of Keith fucking Winterscar.

****

The One Bringing Ruin Upon The Land was ancient.

Wise.

Powerful.

One of Mother’s greatest third generation Feathers. If not the greatest.

He had snuffed out the life from the great human cities Valor, Oathsworn, Dedication, Sunmark, and even been part of sacking the Imperial capital itself - Sol.

No, he really was the greatest. Why was there even a doubt on such a term?

He had been called the butcher, the slayer, the hand of the machine empire. He took great pleasure in forcing defeated humans to give him grander titles, leaving the ones with the best to run off alive, while the rest were killed one after another as they watched on.

His collection of titles were in the thousands. Deathless trembled before him. The world itself did.

And now he stood here, being ordered around by a whelp that was barely fifty years old. And his great orders were to stand here and wait for something to come out of that portal. To sit with a few hundred Lessers behind him - when he had once commanded thousands.

They weren't even fighting. They were all busy building metal boxes to potentially carry through the portals ahead.

It was a waste of his talents. Of his skill. Of his reputation.

Alas… mother herself had given this runt of a Feather supreme authority to fight.

Hopefully this To’Avalis would learn of his true potential, and in future fights have him sent out as the frontline. The one leading the charge. Or even the second in command. With all the cities he’d broken down, he knew more about leading a charge against humans than anyone else in this stupid attack force.

All he’d been told was that this was going to be the first phase of a multi-year assault on all of mankind, and this fortress would be the very first opening bid. To’Avalis had been like a caged chicken, terrified of saying anything else to him.

Of course that runt would be terrified. To'Brutl was the true commander here, and they both knew it. He should have been selected to be Mother’s right hand. And To’Avalis must have recognized that from the moment they locked eyes.

But there would be time to dispose of this runt later. He would play his part for now, and over the course of the next few battles, he would prove his worth as a warrior first, then slowly force the runt to hand off his crown.

Or he’d simply kill the runt himself.

He studied the portal ahead in the meantime, finding nothing else to do. He didn’t know where it led, or what kind of deathless force on the other end of the portal was fighting back. The machine network was down overall, although a local version had been built by this runt specifically to coordinate attacks.

The fight was not going well from the basic overview he was seeing. Obviously it wouldn’t, he wasn’t being sent into it. The fools would fail, and he’d come in later to save the day.

And then he heard something.

A sound transmission, echoing through the portal ahead. “Hi everyone sitting on the other side of the portal being useless. Unpack this if you’re even able to, have fun!” And then a burst of static that lasted for another 5 seconds.

Unable to unpack this? Hah. It was child’s play.

He pulled back his recording and isolated the sound.

Child’s play to him, did they think they were being clever trying to hide a message like so? It was a short speech, all compressed and sped up several fold.

The runt in charge might take a few seconds to figure this out, but To'Brutl had already figured it out immediately. Perhaps he would be kind and hand off the unwrapped message to the ‘commander’ directly, show him who was the best intelligence officer in the force.

After he found out what it was, of course. This could be intelligence he could use when he became the supreme commander later.

It was exported out, fixed up, and then transcribed into something fitting. To'Brutl listened in as a male voice started speaking.

"This is it. The big one. The only thing everyone will talk about for the next thousand years. Humans win here, or we lose here. There’s nothing after. And you’re missing it like the terrified cowards you all are, hiding behind Avalis’s skirts.”

To'Brutl felt his jaw open wide, and he hardly processed it. The message. It was ludicrous. And it wasn’t over.

The local machine network lit up to life as an announcement from the supreme commander arrived immediately, marked as critical priority. To’Avalis was outright screaming now. “ALL FEATHERS. DO NOT PROCESS ANY MESSAGES SENT BY THE ENEMY. ON AUTHORITY OF RELINQUISHED HERSELF. DISREGARD AND DO NOT EVEN ATTEMPT TO PARSE THE RECORDING.”

To'Brutl stared at the portal. And at the recorded message. And then he continued to parse through the speech.

“As for who I am? Well, I’m Keith Winterscar. And if the name doesn’t ring a bell already, then you’ve been useless for longer than even I could have guessed. I’m the only human in the world to have killed dozens Feathers and counting - by myself. Probably up to fifty at this point. Relinquished herself knows who I am, and failed to kill me once already. I freed Urs, the god of humanity himself, and he’s here with me. If anything, I’m like the final boss of humanity. I am the one Relinquished herself wants dead. There isn’t a fight that’s ever going to be bigger than I am. This is it. And guess who’s going to get all the credit for even fighting me at all?”

A human who had killed multiple Feathers. Had freed Urs. And mother herself wanted killed above all?

And this would be the end after? And only To’Avalis had known about this?

He looked over the rest of the message, feeling a deep fury start building up within.

“But enough about me. Look at you. Making sure nobody breaks some random equipment. You know who else does that: Guards. Dime a dozen no-name guards. You want to know what you'll be remembered as? 'Those Feathers on the other side of the portal.' That's it. That's your legacy: Faceless. Forgettable. Mooks. The extras. You’re all exactly the same to me, identical to each other, all doing the same exact job. Probably even fight the same way too, don’t know and obviously I’ll never know otherwise so might as well be a fact to me. The background actors who didn't show up to the most important fight in history.

Meanwhile, my old pal Avalis? All this goes on his highlight reel. And you won’t even be on that.”

Another message came in on his channel, at maximum priority level. “I AM WARNING EVERYONE. DO NOT ABANDON YOUR POST. I WILL HAVE MOTHER HERSELF RIP YOUR HEADS OFF PERSONALLY.”

To’Avalis was terrified. To'Brutl could tell. This was the truth, the attempt to cover up his legacy and forever taint him in mother’s eyes. This runt of a Feather was trying to hide him from the greatest fight on the earth. The greatest fight in history.

The runt hadn’t just known To'Brutl was meant to command. He’d actively worked to sabotage him. So that he never could rise up and take the supreme commander title.

The third generation Feather didn’t know if he wanted to storm straight to To’Avalis right this moment and crush his skull for the insult, or finally fulfill his destiny and face off the human mother herself wanted killed to this point.

And there was still more to the recording.

“Now don't get me wrong, not all of you are useless. I mean, most of you obviously are, but the second-gen Feathers I’ve been fighting? Those guys showed up to the hangar. Those are the real threats I worry about. But you third-gens and below? You're basically just... cute set pieces, I think? I’m sort of expecting to see you all holding the doors open for the second generation to show up and actually give me a fight here.

But hey, I get it. Feathers are dying to me left and right, you all probably paidto sit in the safest place possible from me. Pulled some strings with Mother herself to get babied, eh? Living the fat life while everyone else is getting crushed under my boots. What did you even promise Avalis to hide like this? Eternal servitude? Being a mook for the rest of your life or something? Lick his boots? I mean, if he does win, that’s all you’ll ever see for the rest of all time, his big toe and whatever grim you need to lick off that day. It’s a real safe job, just how you probably like it.

But I’ll be nice for the handful of you that actually got sent there by accident, or intention, or just Avalis being too scared to bring you out. You want your name remembered? Come and duel me. Face to face. I’m right here in the vault, waiting.

And if you don't show? Well, you were too tiny and pathetic to matter anyhow, so I guess no one cares.

Your choice.

Keith Winterscar, greatest human to ever live, out."

To'Brutl was sprinting straight for the portal before To’Avalis could even scream at him to hold position. In fact, he turned off his communications directly. He wasn’t going to listen to a single word from this glory-stealing backstabber, who had conspired this whole time to pull him down and steal his victory.

And after he’d put this Keith Winterscar down, he’d demand the rest of the army here to bow down to him, and drag To’Avalis down where he would be executed.

He’d have one of the Lessers do it, the runt didn’t even deserve his attention.

Mother would be so pleased when she found out the deception to keep him down was unraveled in under ten minutes by her favorite son.

He leaped straight through the portal, into the citadel, and ran down to seize his destiny.