Part 3: Impending Terror

The citadel of House Decus trembled as the distant rumble of war drums echoed through the air. The alarm bells rang louder now, calling every soldier, every guard, to their stations. In the royal chambers, the mood was grim as King Decus, the ruler of the Imperium, stood before his council of trusted advisors. His tall, broad figure cast a shadow across the stone walls, the weight of his crown heavy with the responsibility of the coming battle.

"Prepare the forces," King Decus commanded, his voice unwavering. "House Malum will not be content with anything less than total annihilation. They will come with their rifles, their pulse weapons, and their merciless ambition. This will be the fight of our lives."

His advisors, clad in the dark ceremonial armor of House Decus, nodded in silent agreement. The royal guard was loyal, a steadfast shield around their king, but even they knew the scale of the threat. House Malum was not just an adversary—they were a relentless machine of war, and now, their eyes were fixed firmly on Decus.

Dorian, standing among the guards, could feel the tension in the air, like a taut bowstring ready to snap. He had been trained for moments like this, but nothing could have prepared him for the magnitude of the coming war. He wasn't just fighting for his family or his home—he was fighting for the survival of the Imperium itself. The beacon the scavenger had triggered had set off a chain of events that would alter the course of history.

"King Decus," Erik spoke, his voice steady as always. "I recommend we focus on the outer defenses first. The walls are sturdy, but House Malum's pulse rifles will breach them quickly. We need to deploy our anti-armor units and reinforce the front lines immediately."

The king turned to Erik, his sharp gaze piercing through the veteran warrior. "Agreed. We'll need every advantage we can get. The pulse rifles they possess are unlike anything we've encountered before—bullets forged from Cibus-infused metal, capable of tearing through our defenses like paper. Their firepower will be overwhelming, but we have one thing they don't."

Erik raised an eyebrow, awaiting the king's answer.

"Strategy," King Decus said, his lips curling into a slight grin. "They may have power, but we have the land. "

The Royal Armory of House Decus, located beneath the citadel, was a vast chamber filled with ancient weapons, relics from the old world, and freshly forged armaments. Here, the kingdom's best engineers and smiths worked tirelessly to prepare their defenses. Massive war machines hummed to life, powered by Cibus, while modified weapons—blades, spears, and shields—lined the walls. Some were relics from the past, repurposed into formidable war machines, others were innovations born of necessity.

Dorian stood at the entrance to the armory, staring at the heavy weapons that would be part of the coming battle. But what caught his eye more than anything else was the modified sword resting against the wall, a symbol of House Decus' resilience—a double-edged blade, its hilt adorned with intricate engravings that contain the sigils of the Imperium.

"Get ready," Erik said from behind him, his voice low. "This is no longer a mere patrol. Today, we fight for survival. If House Malum wants our Cibus, they'll have to face the fury of Decus."

Dorian nodded but didn't speak. His thoughts were heavy. The scavenger's betrayal weighed on him. Every decision he made from here on out felt like a matter of life or death. But that wasn't the hardest part. The hardest part was knowing that House Malum would stop at nothing to destroy them.

Outside the walls of House Decus, the Malum forces had gathered, and their presence was a terrifying sight. Their ships loomed overhead like harbingers of doom, dark and foreboding against the ashen sky. The ground shook as the pulse rifles were deployed—massive weapons that glowed with unnatural power. They were different from any conventional gun Dorian had seen before—large, heavy, and capable of firing jagged, Cibus-infused bullets that tore through metal and flesh alike. The rifles were powered by Cibus itself, but their ammunition was something far darker. Rumor had it that Malum had discovered a way to forge Cibus into metal so dense and volatile that it could tear through the very foundations of House Decus' defenses. The malum soldiers were dressed in dark terrifying gear, they contained helmets with a net panel to protect their faces from any incoming attacks and the unpredictable sands of the world.

"Do you hear that?" Dorian asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

The rumble of distant engines, the hum of pulse rifles charging up, sent a shiver down his spine. He could already feel the oppressive weight of war settling over them. House Decus had prepared as much as they could, but with the Malum army's strength, it felt like the odds were slipping away from them.

Erik placed a hand on Dorian's shoulder, snapping him out of his thoughts. "This is it, boy. You ready for the fight of your life?"

Dorian gave a quick nod. "As ready as I'll ever be."

Back within the citadel, King Decus surveyed the war plans spread out before him on a stone table. His royal guard stood close, watching him with baited breath as his mind worked through their options.

"The Malum forces will attempt to breach our gates first. Their pulse rifles will make that impossible without heavy losses on both sides," King Decus said, his voice calm, calculating. "But they will think they can break us by force. We have to surprise them. This is where their arrogance will be their downfall."

Dorian stood at attention near the door, listening intently. The king was a tactician, but it wasn't just the strategy that set him apart—it was the fire in his eyes. He wasn't about to let Decus fall without a fight.

"We'll have our elite forces attack their flank while we hold the gates," King Decus continued. "Dorian, Erik, you'll be part of that strike team. We'll move quickly, hit them from the side while they're focused on breaching the walls. We need to take down their pulse rifle units before they can deploy them in full."

Dorian's heart raced. He had never faced a battle like this—no patrol, no scavenger attack, nothing could compare to the sheer force of a war waged by an enemy as determined as House Malum. But he trusted his king, and he trusted his fellow guards.

Erik's voice rumbled from beside him. "We'll need to be swift, no room for hesitation. Once we move, there's no turning back."

On the battlefield, House Decus' forces gathered at their fortified positions, waiting for the first signs of Malum's advance. The rumble of the pulse rifles grew louder. Dorian and Erik stood ready, the weight of their modified blades steady in their hands, the glow of their energy shields flickering weakly against the darkening sky.

"We move when the signal comes," Erik said, his eyes scanning the horizon. "The first volley from their pulse rifles will be our cue."

Dorian swallowed, his throat dry. He had fought with swords before—he had even faced a few small skirmishes—but nothing like this. There was a finality to this battle. This wasn't just a fight for territory—it was a fight for the very survival of their Imperium. If they failed here, the last remnant of House Decus would fall.

And then, it happens.

A massive explosion shook the ground, followed by the sickening hiss of pulse rifle fire as the first wave of Malum's soldiers stormed the gates of Decus. The battle had begun.