The desert air shimmered with heat and residual energy as Caden and Constance descended from the command ridge. Their armored suits caught the sunlight—sleek, form-fitting constructs that looked like they'd been grown rather than forged, metallic surfaces flowing over their bodies like liquid silver.

The suits were masterpieces of Imperial engineering, combining advanced technology with magical enhancement in ways that pushed the boundaries of what was possible.

Unlike the bulky armor their father had worn, these were designed for speed and precision.

An advanced version of the Aegismeka.

Each suit stood roughly seven feet tall when worn, adding height and mass to their already enhanced frames, but the proportions remained humanoid, almost elegant.

The armor plating shifted and adjusted as they moved, micro-servos responding to neural commands faster than conscious thought. Energy cores pulsed in their chests—not fusion reactors like the crude human technology, but crystallized essence matrices that drew power from both technological and magical sources simultaneously.

At their hips hung swords that thrummed with barely contained power—blades forged from materials that existed at the intersection of matter and energy, capable of cutting through nearly anything while channeling their wielders' enhanced abilities.

They were beautiful, terrible, and absolutely lethal.

Elves from the settlement watched with confusion and dread.

"What are they? They look different from the ones we had seen," Thel'endra said as she fought with Aegismeka. The ones before her seemed completely different.

"Whatever they are, they are not good news," Sarhita said.

Jorghan watched them approach with eyes that burned like coals in his blood-painted face. His enhanced senses catalogued everything about them—the way they moved with perfect synchronization despite being separate individuals, the power radiating from their suits in waves he could feel against his skin, and the absolute confidence in their bearing.

These weren't soldiers.

These were weapons, just like the Haelves, but refined to a degree that made the nine-foot abominations look crude by comparison.

And they wanted him dead.

Good.

He was ready for a real challenge.

[Warning: Multiple Enhanced Hostiles Detected]

[Threat Assessment: Extreme]

[Recommendation: Tactical Withdrawal]

[Bloodborne Rage: 100% - Sustained]

[Essence Reserves: 68% after absorption recovery]

[Physical Status: Minor damage, regenerating]

Jorghan dismissed the warnings.

Withdrawal wasn't an option.

Not with the settlements behind him, not with his family watching, not with everything riding on this moment.

The siblings stopped forty feet away, their suits' faceplates retracting to reveal their faces—Constance's sharp features twisted with cold hatred, Caden's expression more controlled but no less hostile.

"Jorghan Sol'vur," Constance said, her voice amplified slightly by the suit's systems.

"You killed our father."

Jorghan tilted his head slightly, recognition dawning.

"Father? Girl, I killed a lot of people, and who was your father among them?" He smiled, and there was genuine amusement in it despite the circumstances.

"You bastard!!" Caden roared.

Jorghan felt familiar, hearing the voice.

"My father, Hawkin, and you killed him right in front of him," he was screaming at the top of his lungs; his anger grew in bounds.

"What? Cousin, is that you?" Jorghan was genuinely surprised.

Then he looked at the other meka and said, "Then that must be your sister?"

"What a great way to reunite my cousins."

SHUT UP!

Constance said in a sharp tone, her voice booming across the battlefield.

"You killed my father and now are bloating."

"Well, I can, and what's your problem?"

Constance's eyes flashed with fury. "You're going to regret those words."

"Probably not," Jorghan replied.

"But let's find out."

They moved simultaneously.

-

Constance came from the left, her sword drawing from its sheath in a motion too fast for normal vision to track. The blade sang as it cut through air, leaving a trail of displaced energy in its wake—not heat or electricity, but pure force made visible.

Caden mirrored her from the right, his own blade coming around in a perfectly synchronized arc that would have caught Jorghan from the opposite angle, trapping him between two attacks that were designed to be impossible to dodge simultaneously.

Jorghan didn't try to dodge.

Blood erupted from the ground between them—twin pillars of crimson essence that intercepted both blades mid-swing.

The swords struck the blood constructs with impacts that sent shockwaves rippling across the battlefield, force meeting force in a collision that would have obliterated anything less durable than what Jorghan had created.

The blood held for precisely half a second before the enhanced blades cut through it, their edges sharp enough and energized enough to overcome even supernatural matter.

But half a second was enough.

Jorghan was already moving, his frame carrying him backward and up, blood essence forming beneath his feet like stepping stones in the air, letting him retreat vertically while his enemies' momentum carried them past where he'd been standing.

"Oh, you seem really angry, cousin."

He landed twenty feet away, his bare feet—his boots had been destroyed during the transformation—finding purchase on sand that shouldn't have supported his weight but did anyway because he willed it so.

The siblings recovered instantly, their suits' anti-gravity systems engaging, lifting them off the ground with a sound like contained thunder.

They hovered there, weapons ready, reassessing.

"Fast," Constance observed.

"And adaptive," Caden added.

"The blood constructs, he created them at the exact point of impact. Precognition or just exceptional reflexes?"

"Does it matter?" Constance asked.

"It does if we want to kill him efficiently."

They came again, but this time they split their approach.

Constance went high, her suit propelling her upward and forward in an arc that brought her down from above with her blade positioned for a devastating overhead strike.

Caden went low, skimming across the sand, his sword held in a guard position that could instantly transition to offense.

Jorghan's response was immediate and brutal.

His right hand thrust upward, and blood essence manifested in the air above him, not as a barrier, but as a weapon. Crimson spears erupted from nothing, dozens of them, filling the space where Constance's trajectory would take her, creating a lethal forest of supernatural projectiles.

Constance's suit responded faster than conscious thought, micro-thrusters firing, adjusting her path mid-flight with precision that defied physics. She twisted through the spears with grace that would have been impossible for anything not enhanced to her degree, her blade cutting through those she couldn't avoid, each slice precise and economical.

But the maneuver cost her momentum and forced her to abort her attack and land in a defensive position instead of an offensive one.

Which meant Caden reached Jorghan first.

The younger sibling's blade came up in a rising cut that would have disemboweled anything it connected with. Jorghan's hand caught the blade between his palms, blood essence coating his skin, hardening it to a density that let bare flesh meet enchanted metal without being instantly severed.

The impact drove him back three steps, his feet carving furrows in the sand, but he held the blade, stopped it cold despite the force and energy behind the strike.

Caden's eyes widened fractionally—the first real surprise Jorghan had seen from either sibling.

Jorghan smiled and yanked.

His enhanced strength, amplified by the blood he'd absorbed from forty Haelves, exceeded what Caden's suit had calculated as possible.

The blade was pulled from the perfect guard position, Caden's stance disrupted, and for a crucial fraction of a second, his defense was open.

Jorghan's fist struck the armor's chest plate with force that created a visible shockwave. The advanced material held—barely—but the impact transferred through the suit into Caden's enhanced body, driving the breath from his lungs and sending him tumbling backward.

Constance was there before Jorghan could follow up, her blade coming around in a horizontal sweep that forced him to release Caden's sword and dodge. The edge passed inches from his throat, close enough that he felt the air molecules splitting around the supernatural edge.

She pressed the advantage, her attacks becoming a blur of motion—overhead strike, diagonal cut, thrust, sweep, each one flowing seamlessly into the next with the precision of someone who'd trained for centuries despite being only in her mid-twenties. The suit enhanced every movement, turning already superhuman skill into something that approached perfection.

Jorghan gave ground, his hands moving in constant motion, blood essence manifesting as shields, barriers, and deflectors—never quite solid enough to fully stop her blade but sufficient to disrupt the angle, spoil the timing, and keep the lethal edge from finding his flesh.

But he couldn't keep this up indefinitely.

She was too fast, too skilled, and too relentless.

So he changed the battlefield.

The sand beneath Constance's feet suddenly liquefied, becoming quicksand that pulled at her suit's weight, disrupting her stance. Simultaneously, the air around her superheated, the temperature spiking to levels that would have been lethal to unprotected flesh.

Her suit adapted—cooling systems engaging, anti-gravity lifting her free of the quicksand—but it bought Jorghan the second he needed.

His hand thrust forward, and fire manifested around it.

The fire was white-hot, burning with intensity that came from drawing on the fundamental forces of reality itself rather than mere chemical combustion.

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