Ire of Mankind (A 40k and halo fanfic)

Chapter 4

And then he saw it. Demigods of unrivaled power and speed were tearing through the covenant with brutal efficiency. Ivan could not believe his eyes. He rubbed, blinked, and even slapped his face as he was convinced his mind was playing tricks again.

When he opened them again, they remained. "What the hell..." Ivan was utterly in disbelief now as he watched the demigods tear through the covenant forces... with only 3 of their own. There were hundreds of them! Perhaps even thousands!

The bastards were like the tides crashing over and over the defensive line until it broke... and yet these three. These three were like bastions before the storm. Three whirlwinds of destruction, coated in yellow were all it takes to break through the once unassailable covenant forces.

"T-these are not spartans." One of the civilians muttered as Ivan found himself nodding back in agreement. They were large, behemoth size to be precise with symbols and iconography that they did not recognize. And they were far more brutal and merciless than the spartans.

Spartans fought to protect, to preserve mankind. There was a sense of nobility in them. A sense of humanity in them. They were like machines sure, but compared to these demigods, spartans looked more human than they could possibly be. These... these demigods fought as if they are ruin incarnate. Machines of war designed to kill and only to kill with ruthless efficiency.

Ivan watched in horror and awe as these behemoths move impossibly fast. They were almost blurring if not for the high motion capture and sensors of the cameras. Two of them were carrying battle rifles that roared like cannons. They shoulder, crushed, stomped, and fire amidst the bastards.

And each shot was as lethals as the first. Headshot after headshot, Ivan even wondered if they are really were demigods as each shot was nothing short of perfection as each shot brought low at the very least 5 grunts or jackals into a bloody pulp mess. Always moving, never stopping for a second to kill the bastards. And then there was the third.

What caught the eyes of Ivan and everyone who saw the monitors was the third demigod. The third carried a sword. A chainsaw sword in an age where you could be melted by plasma fired miles away? It was madness, lunacy even! Who in there right mind would even come up such a plan??

... And yet this third demigod caught the attention of almost everyone within the bunker as he was the one who lead the two. There was grace in his movement. The two had grace on their own of course but the third, the third was different. Each step had a purpose and a disturbingly delicate sense of balance and poise.

Each swing took three lives of the hated bastards. The demigod moved as if he could see into the future. He was already moving before the damn bastard could even think to move. His swings were so powerful that bodies were lift up into the air. Blow after blow, the ranks were soon thrown into disarray.

Bodies, limbs, organs, and everything that can spill blood were spilled. Ivan watched as the jackals raised their shield in desperation to block the incoming attack. The poor bastards exploded as their shields were nothing more than paper against a rocket.

The grunts were screaming as they ran away in fear. Even with the angry calls of the elites, the grunts simply refused to obey as they were soon shot by their own leaders. This caught everyone in shock. Grunts, for all they knew, had always followed their elites.

Even if they cower in fear, they followed. It was for the first time they disobeyed entirely. Ivan watched in horror but now a disturbing sense of glee and satisfaction as he watched them tear the bastards. The look of fear, the look of dread, and most importantly, the look of despair were evident in their eyes.

Ivan wanted to make the bastards feel the same way as he did all those days ago. He wished time and time again that they would feel what he was experiencing when they pelted through his beloved world.