A giant metal arm, accessorised with a long-barrelled assault cannon, levelled itself towards Lothrak's body as his foe, the Sirthon War Mech, hobbled backwards. Its weight resting on its good leg, the construct fired a salvo of solid-slug tungsten rounds in the Xan-Klar's direction.

As the repeating thudding sound of the gunfire filled his ears and bright flashes blurred his sight, Lothrak reacted off instinct.

Flicking his eyes to his HUD, the young knight activated his jet engines and dashed forward-left, darting dangerously close to the War Mech and out of the line of sight of its cannon. Then, raising his sword high over his head, Lothrak swung down, the blue-white blade of his sword slicing clean through his enemy's weapon, lopping it off like a decapitated head. As he did so, there was an ear-splitting burst of fire and shrapnel, and as the shockwave rippled out from the bisected gun barrel, both he and the Sirthon were knocked backwards and had to stagger to regain their footing.

Even as carnage continued to erupt all around him, Lothrak's mind remained focused, consumed entirely by simply winning the duel he was locked within. Fears of being attacked from behind lingered in his every thought, but he couldn't spare even a second to glance over his shoulder. Especially right now.

Looking ahead, he studied his opponent. The War Mech's body was lined with vicious burn-marks, black-edged cuts slashed into the metal plates that covered its inner workings by Lothrak's still-glowing plasma blade. Some of them had burrowed deep, but still had not pierced the solid slabs of armour upon the Mech's body. Both of its ranged weapons had now been hacked apart, leaving the construct with only its fists to defend itself.

But it was still alive. The Sirthon inside the mech, as far as he could tell, remained unharmed and able to fight.

Lothrak switched off his sword's plasma field, seeing that heat wasn't going to cut it in this fight. He would have to pierce through his opponent's armour with brute force and try to kill the pilot inside.

He just needed a weak spot... and an idea of how to make one had formed in his mind.

The War Mech and him had a brief standoff before Lothrak's foe stepped forward and swung his right fist in a great haymaker. But instead of lifting his shield to block the blow, Lothrak stepped back, dodging his opponent's clumsy swing as he kept his sword tucked close to his side.

Just as he suspected, the War Mech stumbled forwards, the momentum of its body carrying it forward and forcing it to overextend its strike. And as its punch missed Lothrak's body, the mechanical beast lurched sideways, exposing its right flank as its damaged leg left it off-balance.

Two plates of armour on its flank then slid apart, opening a gap in the Mech's defences.

A sudden fury ripped through Lothrak's body, spurred by the sight of opportunity. Pulling his sword back, he stepped forward and thrust the long, broad blade straight into the weak point. He shoved with all his might, his shoulder arcing forwards inside his armour, his fanged jaw open wide and roaring triumphantly.

The tooth-scraping shriek of scraping metal pierced the ears of everyone around him as his weapon drove itself deep inside the War Mech's body. Sparks sprayed everywhere and electricity fizzled as systems short-circuited and shut down. Green-brown liquid gushed out like hydraulic blood, and when one spark grazed it, its burst into a deluge of black-tipped, greasy flame.

The tip of Lothrak's greatsword then burst out of the War Mech's front, armour plates ripping and springing from the vehicle's frame as it did so. Glancing at it, Lothrak saw that it was coated in a thick slop of black-tinted purple sludge that bubbled and festered in the heat. Sirthon blood.

Yanking his blade from the Mech's metallic corpse, Lothrak flung his gaze around. The battle was drawing to a close, the Fireheart Wardens still standing and continuing to crush all who stood before them. The human soldiers also fought too, driving the remaining members of the Hand of Reclamation back.

However, a substantial number of Sirthon still remained, and continued to fight even as they scurried for cover like vermin into their dens... only for the Wardens to burn them out.

Lothrak's armour was beaten-up, but still functioning. He himself was hurt, but he could take the pain. Through the fog of battle, he fought to see clearly, exhaustion sagging against his muscles and the blackened bruises gored into his cobalt scales burned with a dull, fiery, agony.

A voice – Kathonir's - suddenly echoed inside his armour's cockpit.

"A fine kill, little brother!"

Lothrak twisted his armour's head about, looking for Kathonir as he peered through the eyes of his HUD. He saw his brother standing triumphantly upon one of the fallen War Mech, using it as a vantage point. As the Sirthon retreated, Kath levelled his rapid-fire blaster cannon at the terrorists and, in a rapid burst of bright lights and sharp cracks of superheated air, five Hand of Reclamation members were blown to smithereens.

Lothrak felt his brother's mind through the Graxir. It was awash with a blood-soaked, visceral glee that only grew as the sight of the Empire's enemy's dying filled his gaze. Lothrak's own bloodlust paled in comparison, and it made the blue-scale almost envious.

Kathonir was still a better warrior than he ever was.

"Thank you, brother!" Lothrak cried out in reply.

"Silence, you two!" a third voice, its growling tone instantly recognisable, cut through their conversation.

Lothrak turned to where the sound had come from, his armour's cockpit tracking its location. As he spun, he saw Qolvar striding towards them. The young knight's heart pulsed beneath his wishbone as he looked upon his commander's armour - ragged and half-rent from where its owner had dived headfirst into the thick of battle.

Awe made Lothrak pay attention as he listened to Qolvar's words, watching as their commander spoke with a belligerent fearlessness, not a drop of fear in his mind at all.

"Kathonir! You and I will remain to clear up these scum!" Qolvar's attention then homed in on Lothrak. "Lothrak! Your wings still work. You go after Lady Taneera!"

Lothrak froze, apprehension rising within him. "But..." he began.

"Obey your orders, boy!" Qolvar roared. "Go! Now!"

As those words boomed through him, Lothrak's emotions were driven away, replaced by a single compulsion to do as he was commanded. Delaying any longer meant he might fail in his duty – to both Lady Taneera's safety, and the honour of the Wardens. Turning to face down the street, his eyes flicked to his HUD and activated his back-mounted thunder wings. The whooshing shriek of his jet engines firing up filled his ears, and within seconds, he had launched himself.

As Lothrak took the skies and flew straight ahead, he suddenly saw something ahead of him. Something that made his three eyes pinch while his HUD zoomed in to get a closer look.

It was a small object, shaped like one of the humans, flying ahead over the city...