A Covenant Elite kicks a Grunt to return to its' group as soon as he sees it slacking off -- before he stops when he notices a humming beneath the dirt. One hood attempts to move off dirt. A four-fingered hand removes a heavy rock from the element. It's dug deep. He moves to call three Grunts--

Dirt flies as a cilinder marking a napalm fougasse ejects from the ground in front of the creature.

The Elite spreads his jaws to scream a warning as the cylinder flies in front of him. Its' explosion shreds him and everything within a radii of fifteen meters in shrapnels and napalm, before the rest of the mines follow.

Amidst alien screams of alert, one name turns common, translated behind the Spartans' head-up displays:

Demon.


Time slows down to a crawl. Grunts, Elites, and shrapnels move too slowly in front of the Spartans.

He bolts forward.

"Go."