Chapter 123: The Iron Leviathan
Chapter 123: Chapter 123: The Iron Leviathan
Chapter 123: The Iron Leviathan
The heavy, nano-composite doors of the Iron Leviathan sealed shut with a low, hydraulic hiss.
VWÜÜÜM.
The floor vibrated slightly as the colossal train’s anti-gravity thrusters engaged. The mag-lev engine roared to life, propelling the armored fortress out of Bastion Seven’s central hub and into the Miasma-choked wasteland.
Inside the Vanguard Ambassador VIP Lounge, the atmosphere was completely detached from the apocalyptic world outside.
The interior was a masterpiece of advanced Vanguard sci-fi engineering. The walls were lined with sleek, matte-black metallic paneling accented by soft, glowing blue hard-light strips.
Instead of standard windows, the entire right side of the carriage featured a panoramic, reinforced mana-glass display. It offered a crystal-clear view of the desolate, gray Wildlands rushing past at hundreds of miles per hour.
In the center of the lounge sat a massive, curved couch woven from synthetic monster silk, facing a massive holographic display projecting current Vanguard news broadcasts.
Strike Team Zero was fully settled in.
"This is ridiculous," Cole muttered. He was sitting on the floor with his mechanic’s kit open, completely geeking out. He had unscrewed an access panel on the wall and was staring at the glowing blue cables inside.
"The mana-fusion conduits in this carriage alone could power an entire outer ring sector. The energy efficiency is insane."
"Put that back before you blow us up, Cole," Lyra sighed, though she was leaning over his shoulder, equally fascinated by the tech.
On the far end of the couch, Lucien and Nyx were sitting near each other. They were not talking. Nyx was sharpening her obsidian daggers with hyper-focused precision, avoiding eye contact.
Lucien was staring blankly at the holographic news display, awkwardly tapping his foot. The heavy tension from their emotional conversation at the orphanage still lingered between them.
Estella sat near the window, resting her chin in her hand. The ’Star of Ruin’ watched the dark Miasma clouds swirl outside. She looked incredibly relaxed.
At the center console, Draven Mordis stood looking over a glowing holographic map of the continent.
Aegon walked up beside him, his massive Blood Spear strapped to his back.
"Bastion Six," Aegon said, reading the glowing coordinates on the projection.
"The Subterranean City. I read the Vanguard files. They say the entire fortress is buried underground to protect the crystal mines from the Miasma."
"Correct," Draven nodded, his pitch-black eyes scanning the map. "It is an economic powerhouse."
"And it is ruled by Lord Commander Gunther Stillbane," Aegon continued, respect lacing his voice.
"I have heard the stories of his feats. They say his defensive earth-magic is impenetrable. He might not be as monstrously powerful as Lord Commander Helion, but he easily rivals the Hennessey Patriarch or Headmaster Vane."
"Gunther is strong, but he is soft," Draven corrected coldly.
"He spends too much time worrying about the poor miners and not enough time watching his own back."
Aegon frowned. "What do you mean?"
"I mean he has a younger brother," Draven explained, swiping his hand to change the holographic display to a portrait of a sneering, sharp-featured man.
"Cassian Stillbane. He commands the city’s defense grid. And he absolutely despises his older brother."
Aegon’s eyes narrowed. He understood political warfare just as well as physical combat. "A rift in the ruling family. That is exactly the kind of weakness the Church of the Eternal Eclipse exploits."
"Exactly," Draven confirmed.
BZZZT.
Outside the reinforced mana-glass window, a massive, grotesque bird mutated by Miasma suddenly dove out of the gray clouds, screeching as it aimed for the train.
Before it could even touch the glass, a blinding flash of blue light illuminated the wasteland.
BOOM!
One of the Iron Leviathan’s automated plasma-railguns mounted on the roof fired. The mutated bird was instantly vaporized into a cloud of red mist and ash.
The train did not even shudder. It simply kept moving.
"Automated defenses are holding," Aegon noted, glancing at the window. He looked back at Draven. "Are we expecting heavy resistance on the tracks?"
"Always," Draven replied flatly.
Draven did not look away from the map. But inside his mind, his [Tactical Radar] was currently operating at maximum capacity. With his Perception stat sitting at a monstrous 1,000 points, nothing within a ten-mile radius could hide from him.
He could feel the exact location of every single living being on the train.
He knew that three cars back, the real Vanguard security guards were lying dead in a maintenance closet. He knew that twelve highly trained Church Assassins, wearing the stolen Vanguard uniforms, were slowly moving toward the train’s central mana-fusion core.
He had known the second he stepped onto the platform in Bastion Seven.
He simply had not said a word.
Draven crossed his arms and waited. He was not here to babysit. Strike Team Zero was strong, but they were still acting like Academy students.
They believed the armored walls and the automated turrets kept them safe. If they were going to survive the Human Civil War, they needed to learn that safety was an illusion. They needed to bleed.
---
Fifteen minutes passed in silence.
Suddenly, the soft hum of the anti-gravity thrusters began to stutter. The glowing blue hard-light strips along the walls flickered ominously. The holographic TV display glitched and died.
An eerie, unnatural silence fell over the VIP Lounge.
Cole stopped tinkering. Nyx froze, her dagger hovering over the whetstone. Aegon’s hand instantly went to the hilt of his spear.
"Did the engine just drop output?" Cole asked, standing up quickly.
"That shouldn’t happen. The fusion core is completely self-sustaining."
"The mana flow to the automated roof turrets just flatlined," Lyra added, her voice tight with sudden panic as she checked a wall terminal.
Nyx melted into the shadows of the room. Lucien drew his rapier, faint arcs of lightning crackling along the steel.
"Someone is tampering with the train," Aegon realized, his aura flaring.
Draven slowly turned around from the holographic console. He looked at his squad. His expression was completely devoid of emotion.
"You are fifteen minutes late," Draven stated coldly.
The squad stared at him in confusion.
"When we left the Bastion walls, you all relaxed," Draven scolded, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade.
"You relied on the metal box to protect you. You failed to notice the shift in killing intent. You failed to monitor the internal mana flow. We are in the Wildlands now. Enemies can come from any direction, and they will kill you before you even know they are there. I will not always be here to hold your hand."
Aegon’s eyes widened. "You knew? You knew they were on the train?"
"Twelve Church Assassins," Draven confirmed bluntly.
"They are currently hacking the fusion core to derail us. If you want to live, you need to wake up."
Draven’s aura exploded, cold and authoritative. He was no longer a student; he was the Warlord of the shadows.
"Cole, Lyra. Get to the terminal. Override the hack and activate the emergency blast doors to protect the civilian cars. Do not let them shut down the shields."
"On it!" Cole yelled, sprinting to the console.
"Aegon, Bram, Natalie, Reina," Draven continued, pointing to the ceiling.
"The turrets are dead, which means the beasts outside are about to swarm. Get on the roof. Do not let a single monster touch this train."
Bram cracked his knuckles, his skin already hardening into dark gray titan-stone. "Understood."
"Lucien, Nyx, Estella," Draven finished, drawing his own dark blade from his spatial ring.
"With me. We are going to clear the corridors."
The Iron Leviathan violently shuddered as a massive explosion ripped through the rear carriages. The attack had officially begun.
Draven’s pitch-black eyes narrowed.
"Kill them all," Draven ordered.