⫸ [ TIME: 03:00 AETHELGARD STANDARD TIME ]
⫸ [ LOCATION: HORIZON SEEKER – MAIN AIRLOCK ]
⫸ [ STATUS: RETURN ]
The return journey was a blur of pain and exhaustion.
Elian did not walk into the base. He limped. His magnetic boots were fused lumps of slag that dragged in the mud. His armor was scorched black. His internal biometrics were flashing red warnings that he had been ignoring for hours.
The blast doors of the Horizon Seeker hissed open.
The warm, sterile air of the ship hit him. It smelled of home. It smelled of grease and recycled oxygen.
The Giants inside the cargo bay stopped their work. They looked at the returning squad. They looked at the burns on Grom's skin and the smoke still rising from Elian's shoulder plates.
They did not cheer. They went silent with respect.
"Medic," Elian rasped.
Two younger giants rushed forward. They didn't understand human physiology but they understood that the Iron-Star was broken. They carefully lifted him.
"Take me to the Med Bay," Elian ordered. "Do not touch the gun."
He clutched The Arbiter to his chest. It was empty and the barrel was warped from the heat of the rapid-fire braking maneuver, but it was the only reason he was alive.
⬡ ─── ⬡ ─── ⬡
⫸ [ TIME: 03:45 AETHELGARD STANDARD TIME ]
⫸ [ LOCATION: MED BAY ]
⫸ [ STATUS: SURGICAL REPAIR ]
Elian sat on the edge of the bio-bed.
A robotic arm whirred above him. A laser scalpel cauterized a deep gash in his thigh where the impact with the ceramic desert had torn through his undersuit.
He watched the procedure. He did not feel it.
[ Anesthesia is unnecessary. ]
[ The dermal thickening has severed 60% of the pain receptors in your extremities. ]
[ You are becoming biologically numb. ]
"Convenient," Elian muttered. "At least I save on morphine."
He looked at the holographic display floating above the bed. It wasn't showing his vitals. It was showing the God-Killer schematic.
It was a nightmare of engineering.
The weapon was not a rifle. It was a siege cannon. The barrel was twelve meters long. It required a capacitor bank the size of a house. The energy output per shot was calculated in terajoules.
◤ SCHEMATIC ANALYSIS ◢
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
⬢ Weapon Type: Hyper-Velocity Railgun
⬢ Projectile: 20kg Tungsten-Carbide Slug
⬢ Muzzle Velocity: Mach 25
⬢ Power Source: Class-IV Titan Core (Biological Fusion)
⬢ Barrel Material: Refined Void-Steel
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
"Mach 25," Elian whispered. "That isn't a projectile. That is a meteor. It would punch a hole through a mountain."
[ It is designed to penetrate the kinetic shields of a Cultivator Patriarch. ]
[ However, the material requirements are astronomical. ]
[ We have the Tungsten. We do not have the Void-Steel. And we definitely do not have a Titan Heart. ]
Elian swiped the hologram to the side. "One problem at a time. Void-Steel first."
He stood up. His leg stiffened but held. The carbon-lattice bones were already knitting the micro-fractures. His recovery rate was inhuman.
"Where is the prisoner?"
[ She is in the detention cell. She has been chanting for three hours. ]
"Chanting?"
[ It appears to be a prayer. ]
Elian grabbed a fresh uniform from the locker. He didn't bother with the armor yet. He needed answers.
⬡ ─── ⬡ ─── ⬡
⫸ [ TIME: 04:15 AETHELGARD STANDARD TIME ]
⫸ [ LOCATION: DETENTION CELL ]
Disciple Lin sat on the floor. Her eyes were closed. Her hands were formed into a seal. A faint, pale mist hovered around her fingers.
She was cultivating. Drawing the ambient Aether from the air to heal her broken arm.
The door opened. The mist vanished instantly.
She looked up. She saw Elian. She saw the fresh burns on his face and the way he walked with a heavy, predatory grace.
"You returned," she whispered. She sounded disappointed. "The Bone Sea did not eat you."
"It tried," Elian said. He pulled up a chair and sat backward on it. "But I have a very strong stomach."
He projected the map of Sector 4 onto the wall. A region of jagged mountains and volcanic fissures to the South.
"TELL ME ABOUT THE IRON FORGE."
Lin looked at the map. She shuddered.
"The Deep-Kin," she said. "The Earth-Crawlers. They are not like you. They are not like us. They live in the roots of the world."
"Dwarves," Elian translated. "Are they hostile?"
"They are... broken," Lin said. Her voice held a strange mixture of pity and disgust. "Use to, they were masters of the metal. They forged the swords for the Heavens. But the Golden Crow Sect... they enslaved them."
Elian leaned forward. "Enslaved?"
"The Crows control the fire," Lin explained. "The Deep-Kin need the fire to work the Void-Steel. The Sect cut off their vents. Now the Deep-Kin only forge when they are told. They make chains. They make cages."
[ A.R.C. ANALYSIS ]
[ "Golden Crow Sect" implies a rival faction to the "Crimson Flame". ]
[ Fire-affinity. Likely utilizes thermal-based Aether arts. ]
[ "Void-Steel" confirmed as a local resource. ]
"So they are slaves," Elian mused. "Slaves are useful. Slaves want freedom."
"You cannot free them," Lin scoffed. "The Golden Crow Sect is guarded by a Grand Array. A wall of living fire. You are strong, Iron Demon, but you are flesh. Fire burns flesh."
Elian looked at his grey, scaled hand. He remembered the plasma breath of the Wyvern. He remembered the heat of the atmospheric reentry.
"I am not just flesh anymore," Elian said. "And I know how to put out a fire. You don't fight it. You starve it."
He stood up.
"What is Void-Steel? Why is it special?"
"It is metal that has drunk the darkness," Lin said. "It is heavy. It ignores the Spirit. A sword made of Void-Steel can cut through a spell like it is smoke."
Elian smiled. It was a cold, sharp expression.
"Anti-Magic metal," Elian said. "Conductive dampening. Perfect."
He turned to the door.
"Prepare yourself, Disciple. You are coming with us."
"Where?" Lin cried, shrinking back.
"To the mountains. I need a translator. And if the Golden Crows attack... I need a hostage."
⬡ ─── ⬡ ─── ⬡
⫸ [ TIME: 06:00 AETHELGARD STANDARD TIME ]
⫸ [ LOCATION: ENGINEERING BAY ]
The base was awake.
The Giants were repairing the perimeter wall. They were using the scrap metal from the Vanguard—the pieces Elian had kicked off the hull—to reinforce the barricade.
Elian stood at the Fabricator.
[ Power Alert. ]
[ Reactor Output: 12%. ]
[ We are running on fumes. If we do not find a fuel source in 48 hours, the Stasis Pod will fail. ]
"I know," Elian said. "The Iron Forge is a geothermal zone. If the Deep-Kin use heat to forge, they must have thermal vents. I can tap into that. I can recharge the cells."
He looked at the display. He needed to repair The Arbiter.
The barrel was warped. The magnetic rails were misaligned.
"Recycle the damaged titanium," Elian ordered. "Print a new barrel. Shorten it by ten percent. Increase the bore size. I want more stopping power, less range."
[ Modifying design... ]
[ "The Arbiter" Mark-III. Classification: CQB Rail-Cannon. ]
The machine hummed. Lasers danced over a block of metal.
Grom walked up. He held his pike. The tip was chipped.
"Iron-Star," Grom said. "Tribe is hungry. No meat."
Elian looked at the massive foreman. He looked at the logistics report.
◤ LOGISTICS STATUS ◢
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
⬢ Biomass: Critical
⬢ Energy: Critical
⬢ Morale: Stable (Fear/Respect)
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
"We move out tomorrow," Elian said. "We go South. To the mountains."
"Mountains have goats," Grom said hopefully. "Big goats."
"Then we eat goat," Elian said. "Pack the gear. We are taking the Fabricator."
Grom looked confused. "Take... the Maker?"
"It is modular," Elian lied. "We can strip the core. It fits on a sled. We can't leave it here. If the Titan comes back, it will crush the ship. If we lose the Fabricator, we lose the war."
[ Commander. Moving the Fabricator Core is extremely risky. ]
[ It weighs two tons. ]
"Grom can pull it," Elian said. "He is strong. And we need to be mobile. We are not a settlement anymore. We are a caravan."
He looked at the blast door of the Secure Hold where Alara slept.
"What about the Little Star?" Grom asked, following his gaze.
Elian's face hardened.
"She stays," Elian said. "The pod is too heavy. It is integrated into the ship's frame. If I move her, the vibration will kill her."
He placed his hand on the cold metal of the door.
"We leave a rear guard. Twenty warriors. The traps are active. If the Titan comes... they lure it away. But I have to go to the Forge. I have to build the gun."
It was a gamble. A terrifying calculus. He was leaving his daughter defenseless to build the weapon that could save her.
"The entropy debt," Elian whispered. "To save a life, you must risk it."
He turned back to Grom.
"Get the sleds. We march at dawn."
⬡ ─── ⬡ ─── ⬡
⫸ [ TIME: 08:00 AETHELGARD STANDARD TIME ]
⫸ [ LOCATION: THE SLEEPING QUARTERS ]
Elian sat by the blast door.
He held a small, battered photo. It was a physical print, not a hologram. It showed a man with laughing eyes and soft skin, holding a little girl on his shoulders.
He looked at his reflection in the polished metal of the door.
Grey scales. Blue eyes without whites. Scars.
He didn't look like the man in the photo anymore.
"I am building you a future, Alara," he whispered to the silence. "It will be a world of iron and steam, but you will be safe."
He put the photo away.
He stood up. The sadness vanished. The Engineer returned.
He had a heist to plan. He was going to walk into a mountain of fire, steal a slave army of Dwarves, and rob a Sect of their holy metal.
It was impossible.
But the math said non-zero. And non-zero was enough.
[END OF CHAPTER 19]