⫸ [ TIME: +5 DAYS SINCE THE HEIST ]
⫸ [ LOCATION: BASE CAMP ALPHA (FORMERLY HORIZON SEEKER) ]
⫸ [ STATUS: INDUSTRIALIZATION ]
The jungle was gone. The crater where the Horizon Seeker had crashed was no longer a wound in the earth. It was a factory.
Elian stood on top of the ship's hull. The wind whipped his hair, but he didn't feel the chill. His new skin—the Iron-Skin—regulated his temperature with biological efficiency.
Below him, the camp was a hive of noise.
The Deep-Kin had dug a network of trenches in concentric circles around the ship. They had erected blast walls made of fused soil and scrap metal. In the courtyard, five massive induction forges were burning blue-hot, powered directly by the ship's reactor.
Grom walked among them. The Giant wore new armor. It wasn't the scavenged plating of before. It was a printed breastplate of titanium alloy, fitted perfectly to his massive frame. He carried a Void-Steel tower shield that looked like a bulkhead door.
"MOVE THE SLAG!" Grom roared.
A team of Giants hauled a sled of raw ore toward the Fabricator intake.
"Productivity is up 400%," Elian noted.
[ Affirmative. The Deep-Kin mining teams are efficient. ]
[ However, we are running low on refined polymers for the suit seals. ]
[ I recommend stripping the ship's mess hall and crew quarters for plastic. ]
"Gut it," Elian ordered without hesitation. "We don't need chairs. We need ammo."
He turned and walked toward the open cargo bay doors. The Horizon Seeker was no longer a vessel. It was a generator with a 3D printer attached.
Inside the Engineering Bay, Disciple Lin was studying a holographic map. She looked up as Elian entered.
"The scouts report movement in the North," Lin said. "The Golden Crow Elders have stopped fighting each other for the empty throne. They are gathering the clans."
"They are coming to take back the Heart," Elian said.
"They will bring the Sun-Arks," Lin warned. "Flying warships. They rain fire from the clouds. Your trenches will not stop them."
Elian walked to the Fabricator console.
"Trenches are for the infantry," Elian said. "I have something else for the ships."
He typed a command.
The schematic for the Sky-Killer appeared.
It was not a single gun. It was a Phalanx System.
Four hex-barrel rotary railguns, automated by A.R.C., firing 20mm Void-Steel flak rounds at 3,000 rounds per minute.
"Physics lesson number eight," Elian murmured. "Saturation."
"A.R.C., status on the Turret Grid?"
[ Turrets 1 through 3 are printed and mounted. ]
[ Turret 4 is in the hopper. ]
[ We have enough ammo for 5 minutes of sustained fire. ]
"Make it ten," Elian said. "Strip the floor plates if you have to."
⬡ ─── ⬡ ─── ⬡
⫸ [ TIME: 14:00 AETHELGARD STANDARD TIME ]
⫸ [ STATUS: SUIT ASSEMBLY ]
Elian stood in the center of the robotic assembly frame.
The Mark-IV "Warlord" hung above him.
It was terrifying.
The previous suits were sleek, designed for exploration. The Mark-IV was a walking tank. It was bulky, angular, and covered in reactive armor plates painted matte black.
◤ SCHEMATIC ANALYSIS ◢
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
⬢ Chassis: Mark-IV Heavy Assault
⬢ Armor: Composite Void-Steel / Ceramic
⬢ Power: Direct Reactor Link + Capacitor Bank
⬢ Special: Integrated Anti-Gravity Thrusters (Solar-Drive)
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
"We integrated the loot," Elian said, looking at the golden discs mounted on the back of the suit.
[ Affirmative. The Solar-Drive discs allow for "Jump-Jet" capability. ]
[ You cannot fly like a Cultivator, but you can leap 50 meters and hover for tactical drops. ]
[ It also offsets the 800kg weight of the armor. ]
Elian stepped onto the platform.
"Suit up."
The robotic arms descended.
They didn't just strap the armor on. They bolted it.
The chest piece locked into place with a heavy hydraulic hiss. The leg servos engaged with a sound like a prison door slamming. The helmet lowered.
CLICK. HISS.
The HUD flared to life.
◤ SYSTEM ONLINE ◢
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
⬢ Reactor: 100%
⬢ Weapons: Active
⬢ Iron-Skin Interface: Synced
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Elian flexed his hands. The heavy gauntlets responded instantly. He felt the immense power of the hydraulics. He could punch through a tank in this thing.
He walked out of the bay.
Every step cracked the concrete floor.
He didn't walk. He stomped.
He emerged into the sunlight.
The Giants stopped working. The Deep-Kin looked up from their forges.
They saw the black metal titan standing in the door.
Gha-Kull approached. He looked at the suit. He looked at the Shoulder-Mounted Rail-Cannon (a scaled-down version of the Arbiter) on Elian's right shoulder.
"THE IRON-GOD WEARS HIS SKIN," Gha-Kull rumbled.
"Not a god," Elian's voice was amplified, deep and synthesized. "Just a tank."
⬡ ─── ⬡ ─── ⬡
⫸ [ TIME: 16:45 AETHELGARD STANDARD TIME ]
⫸ [ STATUS: THE HORIZON ]
The alarm sounded.
It wasn't a siren. It was the deep, rhythmic banging of a Giant beating a hollow fuel tank.
Elian was on the command deck (top of the hull) instantly. His jump-jets flared, boosting him thirty meters up in a single second. He landed heavily on the roof.
He zoomed in with his optics.
The northern horizon was gold.
Not the sun. The enemy.
A fleet of Sun-Arks approached. They were massive, floating galleons made of gold and crystal, suspended by Aether-sails. They moved slowly, majestically, surrounded by swarms of Solar Gliders.
◤ THREAT DETECTED ◢
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
⬢ Fleet Strength: 5 Capital Ships / 200 Gliders
⬢ Estimated Arrival: 10 Minutes
⬢ Energy Signature: Tier 3 (Multiple Sources)
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
"They brought the whole sect," Lin said, her voice trembling over the comms. "Those ships... they have Solar Lances. They can burn the jungle from the sky."
Elian looked at the approaching armada.
It was beautiful. It was majestic. It was magic.
He looked down at his grey, ugly fortress of trench warfare and automated turrets.
It was industrial. It was brutal. It was physics.
"Grom," Elian transmitted. "Get the infantry into the bunkers. Deep-Kin, man the mortars."
He connected to the Turret Grid.
The four Sky-Killer rotary cannons spun up. Their barrels whirred with a menacing hum.
"A.R.C.," Elian said calmaly. "Calculate the intercept vector for the lead ship."
[ Solution calculated. Target is big. Slow. Arrogant. ]
[ They are flying in tight formation. ]
"They think we are savages with sticks," Elian said. "They expect us to hide."
He raised his right arm. The shoulder-mounted railgun racked a slug.
"Let's introduce them to the Industrial Age."
"OPEN FIRE."
The four Sky-Killers roared.
BRRRRRRRT.
Thousands of 20mm Void-Steel rounds shrieked into the sky. They didn't aim for the hulls. They aimed for the air around the gliders.
The shells detonated.
Clouds of black Void-Steel shrapnel filled the sky.
The Golden Crow fleet flew straight into a meat grinder.
[END OF CHAPTER 27]