The world beyond the shattered glass doors of the Super Savers Megamart was a study in grey decay. For Tertius, it was merely a new sector awaiting pacification. His directive from his Lord was simple: expand the perimeter, purge the unclean, and build barricades. He executed these commands with the same dispassionate efficiency he would apply to any battlefield task, be it defending the walls of Terra or clearing a xenos-infested hab-block.
The enemy was weak, an insult to the very concept of a foe. The Shamblers, drawn by the sounds of his movements, converged on him from the side streets and crumbling buildings. Tertius didn't even bother to ignite his chainsword; its use was for foes worthy of the noise. Instead, he met them with his fists.
A Shambler in the rotting remains of a police uniform lunged at him. Tertius's counter-movement was a blur of gunmetal-grey. His gauntleted fist, a slab of ceramite weighing more than a mortal man, met the creature's face. The impact wasn't a crunch; it was a detonation of bone and rotten tissue. The zombie's head collapsed inward like a punctured gourd, its body flung backwards into two of its brethren, toppling them like bowling pins.
He moved among them like a harvester through wheat. A kick from his armored boot sent a corpse flying through the air to impale itself on the twisted rebar of a collapsed overpass. A downward slam with both fists pulped a zombie that had managed to stumble to his feet. It was not combat; it was pest control. His internal counter ticked up with each kill, a stream of fractional Requisition Points flowing directly to his Lord.
Once the immediate area was clear of movement, he began the second phase of his orders: the barricade. His gaze fell upon the derelict vehicles scattered across the parking lot and road. They would suffice. He walked to a rust-pocked sedan, crouched slightly, and slipped his gauntlets under its chassis. With a low whine of powerful servos, he straightened his legs and lifted. The car, weighing well over a ton, rose into the air as if it were made of hollow plastic.
He carried it to the main intersection leading to the mall, setting it down with a ground-shaking THUD. He went back for another. A pickup truck this time. Then a delivery van. He was a child playing with toy cars, arranging them into a crude but effective wall, piling them two, sometimes three high. The groaning screech of stressed metal became the soundtrack to his labors.
Up on the second floor of the mall, peering through a grimy, reinforced window, Leo and Maya watched the new giant, Tertius, at his work. Their mouths hung open in dumbstruck astonishment. They had seen him leave, heard the thuds of him dispatching the dead, but seeing him lift a whole truck over his head was something else entirely. It was like watching a comic book hero come to life, only grittier and far more terrifying.
A thought sparked in Leo's mind. They had been given food and shelter. But they were just... sitting there. That didn't feel right. The men who had saved them—or at least, the giants their scary, lazy king commanded—were working. A sense of obligation, a desire to contribute, took root.
"We should help," he said to Maya, his voice barely a whisper.
Maya looked from the giant outside to the bloodstains still dotting the floor inside. She nodded, clutching Barnaby tightly.
They scampered down the stalled escalator and approached the closer of the two giants inside. It was Primus, still bearing the marks of his earlier rampage. He was meticulously straightening a bent support beam with his bare hands.
"Uh... Mr. Primus, sir?" Leo squeaked.
The Astartes paused his work, his helmet pivoting down to fix them with its glowing red gaze. "State your purpose."
"We want to help," Leo said, bolder now. "What can we do?"
Primus's auto-senses registered their sincerity. Their request was logical. The establishment of a clean, orderly command center for the Lord Administrator was a high-priority task. These small humans were incapable of combat or heavy labor, but they could perform minor duties.
"The ground is contaminated with the filth of the heretic dead," Primus's vox boomed, pointing a colossal finger at a dark splatter on the tiles. "This is unacceptable in the presence of my Lord. Your task is to procure water and sanitation supplies. Cleanse this sanctum. Render it fitting for your sovereign."
The children didn't understand words like 'heretic' or 'sanctum', but 'water', 'clean', and 'unacceptable filth' were clear enough. The mission gave them a surge of purpose. They scurried off, exploring the darkened side corridors of the vast store. The world had been ruled by Shamblers for two years. They had been five and seven when it began. They'd seen things far worse than dried blood on a floor. They'd seen fresh blood. They'd seen the Shamblers swarm, seen them feed. And they knew there were worse things out there, too—the 'mutant ones', the faster, stronger variants that sometimes appeared, twisted into horrifying new shapes. The blood of these slow ones was almost comforting by comparison.
They found a door marked 'Janitorial' and pulled it open. Inside, stacked on metal shelves, were buckets, mops, and bottles of bleach and industrial cleaner. Success!
But they were not alone.
Huddled in the corner, behind a fallen locker, was a Shambler. It must have been locked in here when the world ended, a forgotten janitor who had turned. It was gaunt, desiccated, and wore the tattered remains of blue overalls. Hearing the door open, it turned its milky eyes towards them and let out a low, hungry moan, shuffling forward.
Leo screamed. Maya screamed. For a terrifying second, the memory of every chase, every narrow escape, came flooding back. There was no giant grey wall to protect them here.
"PRIMUS! HELP!" Leo shrieked, his voice cracking with sheer terror as he and Maya scrambled backwards out of the closet.
The response was immediate and overwhelming.
There was a thunderous sound of footfalls moving at an impossible speed. Primus, who had been fifty yards away, crossed the distance in a blur of motion. He didn't slow down as he reached the janitorial closet. He smashed straight through the doorframe, shattering the concrete and tearing the metal hinges from the wall. Before the zombie could even turn its head, Primus's hand shot out, seizing it by the face. He lifted it clear off the ground, then slammed it headfirst into the back wall with enough force to crack the cinderblocks. The zombie went limp, its neck bent at an unnatural angle. It was over in less than a second.
A moment later, another thunder of footsteps arrived as Secundus, hearing the cry for aid, abandoned his work outside and stormed in, his chainsword revving to a roar. He saw Primus, the dead zombie, and the terrified children. Assessing the threat was neutralized, he silenced his blade.
The two giants stood there for a moment, flanking the children, two indestructible pillars of grey steel. Leo's heart was hammering, but as he looked from one impassive helmet to the other, the terror was replaced by a profound, overwhelming wave of relief. He felt… completely safe. Safer than he had felt in two long years. He looked at Maya, who was staring up at the giants with wide, awe-filled eyes. They weren't monsters. They were guardians.
Without another word, Primus turned and marched back to his work. Secundus gave a curt nod before returning to the barricades. The message was clear: a call for help would be answered.
Filled with a new sense of security, the children got to work. They hauled buckets of water, sloshing bleach into them, and began to scrub, their small hands working diligently to erase the last traces of the dead from their new home.
In his throne room, a triumphant fanfare erupted from the computer's cheap speakers. Caelan threw his hands up in victory. "YES! Take that, Lich King Malakor!"
He had found a bug, an exploit involving the 'Recursive Pixie' card that allowed him to generate infinite mana. It was cheating, but it was glorious. He had conquered Magi-Clash: Chronicles of the Elder Glyphs. His great work for the day was done.
He leaned back in his chair, feeling immensely satisfied. Then, as an afterthought, he checked his Requisition Points. The steady trickle from Tertius's methodical purging outside had been accumulating.
[Current Requisition Points: 113]
A smile spread across his face. The number was growing. His army was working. The kids were quiet. He had food, water, and had just proven his strategic mastery over a digital warlock. Today, he was winning.