The sky above the Foundry District was no longer gray with smog. It was blinding white.
Varian hovered in the air, his Void Wings beating against the thermal currents rising from the factory floor. The Abyssal Armor felt heavy, sluggish. Every time he moved, the golden light radiating from the Seraphim Angel burned against his shadow-shield like acid.
"You are annoying," Varian gritted out, blood trickling from his nose inside the helmet.
The Angel hovered fifty meters away, motionless, perfect. Its porcelain chassis gleamed. Its solar-panel wings adjusted incrementally, tracking Varian's every micro-movement with mathematical precision.
"ANALYSIS COMPLETE," the Angel's voice boomed, vibrating Varian's bones. "SUBJECT 744. PARASITIC INFECTION RATE: 100%. THREAT LEVEL: REVISED TO CRITICAL."
The Angel raised its sword. The blade of concentrated plasma extended, humming with the power of a small star.
"Dodge this," Varian whispered.
He dove.
He didn't fly away. He flew at the Angel.
[Symbiote Ability: Void-Step.]
Varian vanished into a cloud of smoke. He reappeared instantly behind the Angel's left wing.
He gripped the Sun-Piercer with both hands.
[Catalyst: Void-Core.]
The spear turned into a needle of black hole energy.
"Pierce!"
Varian drove the spear into the joint of the Angel's wing.
CRACK.
The golden energy shield flared, stopping the spear. But this time, Varian didn't pull back.
"Onyx! Drain it!"
The black sludge of his armor flowed down the spear shaft. It latched onto the Angel's shield.
[Ability: Energy Absorption.]
The Symbiote tried to eat the light.
For a second, it worked. The golden shield flickered. The spear tip sank an inch into the porcelain armor.
But the Angel didn't panic. It didn't even turn around.
The solar panels on its wings flared.
"ERROR. PARASITE DETECTED. INITIATING SOLAR FLARE."
The Angel exploded with light.
It wasn't an attack. It was an omnidirectional burst of thermal and lux radiation.
FLASH.
Varian screamed.
The light blinded him instantly, burning through his visor's filters. The heat was absolute. The Void-shadows of his armor evaporated like mist in a furnace.
[Armor Integrity: Critical.][Hydra Heart: Overheating.][System Failure.]
Varian was thrown backward. The force of the flare knocked him out of the sky.
He fell.
He tumbled through the smoke, his wings shredded. He couldn't see. He couldn't fly. He was just a falling stone wrapped in smoking metal.
Below him, the roof of the factory had collapsed. He wasn't falling toward the floor. He was falling toward the Slag River—a channel of molten iron flowing at 1,500 degrees Celsius.
"Varian!" Gorgon's voice roared over the comms.
Varian tried to move his arms, but his nervous system was fried. He watched the orange glow of the lava rush up to meet him.
So this is it, Varian thought, a strange calm washing over him. I flew too close.
He hit the heat before he hit the liquid.
But he didn't hit the lava.
Something massive and red slammed into him from the side.
CRUNCH.
Gorgon, clad in the Crimson Paladin armor, had leaped from the control tower. He caught Varian in mid-air, cradling him against his chest.
But momentum carried them both down.
They plunged into the river of molten iron.
HISSSSSS.
The world turned orange.
Inside the Crimson Armor, Gorgon roared in agony. The suit was sealed, but the heat transfer was immediate. The red armor glowed white.
"Hold on, Boss!" Gorgon screamed.
The Crimson Paladin thrived on pain. The lava didn't melt it; it enraged it.
Gorgon kicked off the bottom of the channel. He launched himself out of the lava like a rocket, landing on the concrete bank with a heavy, wet thud.
Gorgon dropped Varian and fell to his knees, steam pouring off his armor. The stone skin underneath was blistered, but healing.
Varian gasped, air rushing back into his lungs. The Hydra Heart in his chest thumped violently, pumping green energy to repair his retinas.
"Gorgon..." Varian coughed up black soot. "You crazy rock..."
"You owe me..." Gorgon wheezed. "Two dinners."
Varian looked up.
The Angel was descending. It wasn't damaged. The spear scratch on its back had already buffed out. It raised its sword for a final strike.
"EXECUTION."
"We can't win," Varian realized. The despair tasted like ash. "It's a Monarch. A true Monarch. We're just children throwing rocks."
He tapped his comms.
"All units! Retreat! Get back to the tunnels! Abandon the position!"
"We can't!" Rix's voice shrieked. "The Angel blocked the exit! It collapsed the bridge!"
The Legion was trapped. The Dregs were cowering behind the wrecked train as the Angel prepared to glass the entire factory floor.
"Iron-Jaw!" Varian shouted into the radio. "The pressure valves! Vent the steam! create a smokescreen!"
There was a pause. Static.
"I can't vent it remotely," Iron-Jaw's voice came back. It sounded calm. Too calm. "The controls are fused. I have to override the reactor core manually."
"Then do it and get out!"
"Varian," Iron-Jaw said. "To override the core, I have to hold the magnetic locks open. If I let go... the safety engages."
Varian froze.
He looked at the control tower. Through the shattered window, he could see a silhouette. A man—half flesh, half machine—standing at the console.
"Don't do it," Varian whispered.
"You're a good businessman, kid," Iron-Jaw chuckled. A dry, metallic sound. "But you're a terrible accountant. You always forget the cost of doing business."
"Iron-Jaw! That's an order!"
"Override code accepted," Iron-Jaw's voice was fading as the interference from the reactor spiked. "Gorgon. Keep him alive. Rix... stop eating my wires."
The Angel raised its sword.
"Go!" Iron-Jaw shouted. "NOW!"
Inside the control room, Iron-Jaw jammed his mechanical claw into the reactor interface. He ripped the safety dampeners out.
"Let's see if Angels can burn," the old merchant grunted.
He slammed his human hand onto the Core Eject button.
VRRRRR-CLICK.
The reactor beneath the factory didn't vent. It went critical.
The ground heaved.
A sphere of pure white thermal energy expanded from the base of the tower. It consumed the control room instantly.
Then, it expanded outward.
"COVER!" Varian screamed, tackling Gorgon.
KAAAA-BOOOOOOM.
The explosion was magnificent. It vaporized the control tower. It shattered the factory walls. It created a shockwave that threw the Cleanse-Walkers around like toys.
The Angel, caught in the center of the blast, was engulfed. Its energy shield flared, fighting the force of a tactical nuke.
The floor of the factory collapsed.
The debris, the lava, the angel, and the Legion fell into the sub-basement.
But the blast had done something else. It had blown open the sealed tunnel leading back to the boring-train route.
"The tunnel is open!" Rix yelled, pointing through the smoke.
"Move!" Varian ordered, hauling Gorgon up. "Don't look back! Move!"
The Legion scrambled into the tunnel. Varian stood at the rear guard, the Sun-Piercer spinning to deflect falling debris.
He looked back at the crater where the control tower used to be. There was nothing left. Just a glowing pit of radiation and slag.
"Iron-Jaw," Varian whispered.
A massive hand—white and pristine—reached out of the fire.
The Angel pulled itself out of the magma. Its wings were bent. Its porcelain armor was cracked and blackened. One arm was missing.
But it was alive.
It looked at Varian. The blue slit of its visor flickered red.
"TARGET MARKED. PURSUIT... DELAYED."
The Angel collapsed, its systems entering emergency repair mode.
Varian turned and ran.
The journey back to Station Zero was silent.
The boring-train was gone, wrecked in the factory. They walked.
Two thousand survivors trudged through the dark tunnels. There was no cheering. No songs of victory.
They carried the wounded on stretchers made of roach-shells.
Varian walked at the front. He didn't deactivate his armor. He couldn't. He felt that if he took it off, he would fall apart.
Gorgon walked beside him. The giant was limping. The Crimson Armor was dormant, a dull, dried-blood color.
"He saved us," Gorgon whispered.
"He bought us time," Varian corrected, his voice hard. "Time we wasted thinking we were invincible."
They reached the station gates.
Scrap-Jack was waiting. He looked at the procession. He looked for the familiar silhouette of the cyborg merchant.
He saw Varian's face.
Scrap-Jack didn't ask. He just lowered his head. He took off his welding goggles and held them to his chest.
"Secure the gates," Varian ordered, walking past him. "Weld them shut. Layer them with lead. Nothing gets in. Nothing gets out."
"But the supplies..." Scrap-Jack started.
"We have enough!" Varian snapped. The anger flared, hot and sudden. Then it died, leaving him cold.
"We have enough," he repeated softly. "We aren't going back up there. Not yet."
Varian walked to the Command Office. It was empty now. Iron-Jaw's desk was cluttered with datapads and half-finished inventory lists.
Varian sat in the chair.
He placed the Sun-Piercer on the table.
He looked at the map of the world on the wall. The Upper Shells. The Industrial Belt. The Prison. The Core.
He had poked the hornet's nest. And the hornets had killed his friend.
"Architect!" Varian shouted.
The old man scurried in from the lab, looking nervous.
"Yes, Sovereign?"
"The Angel," Varian said. "I hit it with everything. Magma. Void. Gravity. It didn't even scratch the chassis until the reactor blew."
"Seraphim Class," The Architect nodded rapidly. "Monarch Rank. Their armor is made of Holo-Matter. Hard light. Physical attacks pass through it. Energy attacks are absorbed."
"How do I kill it?"
The Architect hesitated. He looked at the spear.
"You can't. Not with a stick. You need to break the light."
"How?"
"You need a Prism," The Architect whispered. "A biological prism capable of refracting hard light. There is only one beast in the records with that ability."
He tapped a sector on the map—deep in the Crystal Caverns, below the Sunken Highway.
"The Crystal Leviathan. Emperor Rank. Its scales can shatter lasers."
Varian stood up.
"Then we hunt the Leviathan."
"Varian," Gorgon stepped into the room. "The troops are tired. Morale is broken. If you drag them into another war..."
"I'm not taking the Legion," Varian said. "They stay here. They rebuild. They mourn."
He looked at his hand. The black armor of Onyx rippled.
"I'm going alone."
"No," a voice came from the doorway.
Lady Venom stood there. She held a bottle of Iron-Jaw's favorite whiskey.
"You go alone, you die," she said. "And if you die, Iron-Jaw died for nothing."
She poured a shot and placed it on the empty desk.
"We go together. The inner circle. Just us. A hunting party."
Rix dropped from the ceiling. "Rix comes. Rix hates big shiny bird."
Gorgon sighed. He picked up his hammer. "I suppose someone has to carry the heavy stuff."
Varian looked at them. His pack.
He picked up the whiskey. He drank it. It burned.
"To Iron-Jaw," Varian said.
"To the Merchant," they chorused.
Varian smashed the glass on the floor.
"Let's go kill a Leviathan."