Deus in Machina (a Warhammer 40K-setting inspired LitRPG)

Angar rose slowly and deliberately, staring at his foes, his monstrous clawed hands flexing at his sides. He wouldn't be able to use his Abilities, not without killing a lot of students, and Kenson had his maul.

The confused men hesitated as their grips tightened on their clubs. One mumbled, "How's he conscious still?"

Another, looking at Angar, quietly said, "We have no problem with you, Sir. Just let us earn our pay and work you over a little. We won't cause severe damage. Just bloody you some and make you look bad, is all."

Angar stepped into the broad aisle that separated the bunks along the dormitory walls from those clustered in the center of the bay, and stood tall in the shadowed aisle, his frame a silhouette against the soft glow seeping through the high windows.

The sting of the electric jolts still burned and buzzed in his flesh. He believed he had some protection against electricity, and those batons hadn't affected him as they would others.

The too-tight and too-baggy sweatsuit offered no protection, but he knew the dark and rigid skin of his forearms and hands provided a useful way to block. He held up his fists as he took a stance.

The three soldiers shifted uneasily, their dented armor clanking as they spread out, batons crackling with fresh arcs of blue-white energy.

The one who'd spoken, a stocky brute with a scarred face, stepped forward first, his voice still low. "Last chance. Lie down, take the beating, and this ends easier for all of us."

Angar's face split in a grim smile. "Come earn your pay."

The soldier lunged with his baton swinging high in a vicious arc aimed for Angar's skull. Angar twisted, the weapon sizzling past, and drove his fist into the man's gut. The armor buckled inward with a crunch, the soldier's breath exploding out in a ragged wheeze as he doubled over.

Angar didn't pause. He ripped the breastplate free and his other hand slashed upward, its claws raking across the man's chest. Flesh tore like rotten bark, and hot blood welled as the soldier staggered back, clutching the ruin of his torso.

The other two had already roared into motion with batons flaring. The taller one with a lean and wiry frame darted in from the left, jabbing his weapon at Angar's ribs. Electricity snapped, searing into his blocking forearm, but Angar hardly felt the jolt, not as he had on his leg and torso.

He caught a new swing of the baton mid-thrust, wrenching it from the soldier's grip with a twist that cracked the man's wrist like a branch.

The soldier screamed and stumbled back, but Angar was already swinging the stolen baton, cracking it across the man's helm. The metal caved, the baton broke, and the soldier dropped, screaming.

The third soldier, this one broad-shouldered and bull-necked, was charging with a bellow, slamming his baton down at his opponent.

Angar sidestepped, and the blow grazed his arm, sending sparks spitting as it scorched the sweatsuit.

His claws slashed through the air, swiping. The soldier jerked his head back, but not fast enough.

Angar's talons carved through his cheek, shredding flesh and cracking bone. Blood fountained, painting the nearest bunk in a crimson arc, and the man howled, clutching his bloody face.

Around them, the dormitory had erupted into chaos. Students scrambled from their bunks, shouting cheers. Those far off ran forward, their bare feet slapping the stone floor as they called out for blood, egging the downed men on, telling them to get up and fight.

Sisters had entered the dorm, far off, near the entrance, and the lights burned on as they yelled out for order.

Leopold's voice cut through the ruckus, filled with venom. "Get him! Kill him!" The boy stood near his bunk with clenched fists, his swollen face a mask of fury.

The first soldier, still gasping, forced himself upright, blood dripping from his torn chest. He swung his baton in a wild arc.

Angar leapt back and the weapon cracked on the floor where he'd stood, then lunged forward, driving his knee into the man's gut, the armor crumpling further as the man doubled up once more.

He rose his knee again, smashing it in into the torn chest. Ribs snapped with loud cracks and the soldier flew back, slamming into a bunk frame with a sickening thud. The metal bent, and he slumped, unmoving, a gurgling wheeze and blood escaping his lips.

As he had kneed that man the second time, the bull-necked soldier, half his face a bloody mess, had roared as he rose, and tackled Angar with thick arms wrapping around his waist. They crashed to the floor, and the soldier reared back, slamming his baton down.

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Angar lurched his head, and the strike missed by a hairsbreadth, sizzling the stone. He jerked hard, bucking the soldier off, and sprang up with his claws flashing. His hand plunged into throat, ripping through muscle and sinew. The soldier shrieked, collapsing as blood gushed, his neck a mangled wreck.

The wiry one was cradling his broken wrist as blood streamed out of his dented helm and down his face. With a look of desperation in his eyes, he looked around until his eyes locked onto a baton sparking a meter off on the floor.

He let go of his arm, grabbed the fallen baton with his good hand, then charged.

Angar swiped, knocking the baton out of the man's hand, then caught him by the face. His claws sunk into flesh as he lifted the man off the ground. The soldier screamed as legs kicked, and his arms flailed uselessly.

With a snarl, Angar dug his claws deeper into the face before hurling the man into the wall near his bunk. The impact echoed with a crack and a splatter of blood. The man slid down, leaving a smear of red, his body going limp in death.

Angar turned. Blood trickled from his claws, dripping onto the cold stone floor. The dormitory around him was packed with boys. Screams filled the air as students cheered, desiring more violence.

Sisters shouted with angry and panicked voices as they pushed through the crowd, trying to rush toward the brawl, the students doing their best to slow and block them.

But Angar knew he had little time left.

Leopold stood frozen, his eyes widening as Angar's gaze locked onto him, his bravado now gone.

Ignoring the sisters' cries of "Stop!" he charged toward Leopold. The noble flinched, stumbling back, tripping over his own feet and crashing onto a bunk.

Angar towered over him, casting a shadow across the bed and boy. The air between them was thick and electric, almost thrumming with hate.

"Stop!" the sisters shouted again, their voices overlapping in a desperate plea.

Leopold whimpered, scooting backward on the bunk. His hands were thrust out as if they could fend off the monstrous claw reaching for his throat.

Once Angar had a good hold of Leopold, he was pulled off the bed and held up.

Angar shifted his grip, pausing briefly to line up his strike, then slammed Leopold's face into the bunk's metal post. Teeth shattered in a wet crunch, sending blood spraying across the frame as the boy's horrific scream drowned out the yelling sisters and all other noise.

Seizing one of Leopold's flailing arms, Angar twisted, and a sharp snap echoed as the limb broke. Then he grabbed the other arm and did the same.

Young sisters reached them as he was about to break a femur, their furious shouts demanding he release the shrieking student.

Letting go, the boy collapsed in a heap as Angar stepped back. He wondered why these sisters were so young. Then he figured only the lowest-ranking clergywomen would be assigned night watch.

Venerable Sister Kenson and Venerable Sister May arrived long minutes after Leopold was carried away, summoned from their rest and clearly displeased to be roused this late, but both appeared as composed and pristine as ever, their robes immaculate despite the situation.

Once again, Angar found himself seated in the rectoria's office of the boys' Scholarium, a tawse rapping his knuckles, hoping Leopold still hadn't learned his lesson. That way, he could give another.

Minutes later, a sharp knock interrupted his dual scolding. To his surprise, an Eyes of Providence Knight stepped inside.

The Knight glanced at the sisters and Angar, nodding. "For God and Empire, good Sisters, Sir Angar. I'm Sir Emunah. I won't put this on record as the Eyes can't risk making an enemy of Sir Duke Maximillian, but I'll tell you what my team witnessed."

After a pause, the Knight said, "Sir Angar was attacked in his sleep. Three men with stun-batons hit him square, multiple times. That should've caused unconsciousness. Should have, but failed to."

Sister May's expression tightened, and she turned away from the Knight to look at her student. "Fault aside, Angar, you ignored my warning. Heretics want you dead, and you keep provoking the ruler of this world. The Duke's pulling Leopold out to heal him in his estate's Vitaelux Apexium. He sent word he's dispatching a ship for you at dawn. We told him you're confined to campus until the Heretical threat's neutralized. He's…"

"I'll go," Angar interrupted, excitement in his voice. "I'll need my maul back first."

Sir Emunah chuckled good naturedly. "Sir Angar, you tangled with two first Tier Knight-Novices of the Eyes, and downed both. An impressive feat, I'll give you that, and I respect your grit, but Sir Duke Maximillian's third Tier and a hero. He has retired Holy Knights on payroll and an army of soldiers."

He turned to the clergywoman. "Venerable Sisters, is it usual for a student to be allowed three guards in the dorms?"

"No," Kenson replied with a clipped tone. "After the first incident, the Duke demanded Angar's presence. When we told him Angar couldn't leave campus because of the Heretical threat, he trapped us with that same reason. If the threat was as great as we claimed, he had no choice but to send guards to protect his son."

Angar's brows furrowed. "Tell this coward I name him oath breaker. We each swore to have a singular purpose in life, and it wasn't to rule a world. It was to wage Holy War. If I'm not allowed to leave campus, tell him he knows where to find me."

Kenson's eyes narrowed, a spark of irritation flaring in them. "There're far more ways to contribute to our blessed Holy War than direct bloodshed. My Ordo, for instance…"

Another knock cut her off. An Eyes soldier entered, holding a small package. "Sir Emunah, this came from headquarters. Orders were to deliver it straightaway."

The soldier extended the package, but before Emunah could take it, the wrapping disintegrated in a puff of ash. A dark, howling wind burst forth, slamming into the soldier's chest.

His body jolted, his eyes widened, his raw and horrific scream tore through the office as the dark wind burrowed into him. His chest heaved unnaturally, ribs cracking audibly as his armor warped inward.

Sir Emunah's blaster opened fire. Twin Handguns materializing from hidden holsters beneath Kenson's robes, their shots joining the Knight's in a deafening barrage.

Blaster bolts and pistil fire punched through the soldier's flesh, sending blood spraying in thick arcs, but the wounds didn't stop the change. Even so, the barrage never let up.

May, fright filling her eyes, joined in a moment later, a single pistol gripped nervously in her hands.

The soldier's skin split like overripe fruit, peeling back in wet, glistening strips to reveal a pulsing mass beneath. It wasn't muscle or bone, it was something alive, unholy, and writhing. And wrong. Whatever it was, it was very wrong.