The Battlefield – Southern Camp. 02:30 AM.
Hell was real, and tonight it manifested in bursts of brilliant white light and the roar of blackened steel across the parched plains of Aethelgard.
The Titan MK-1—now baptized by Riven as the Iron Duke—had turned the enemy camp into a one-sided slaughterhouse. Logistics tents were engulfed in flames, sending pillars of acrid black smoke licking at the midnight sky. The earlier explosion of the gunpowder depot had left a smoldering crater, venting a sharp stench of sulfur that burned the back of the throat.
The famed Red Skulls elite mercenaries were scurrying in a blind panic, like ants whose nest had been doused in boiling oil. Their warhorses neighed hysterically, snapping their reins and accidentally trampling their own masters, blinded by the Titan's relentless Xenon searchlight.
Inside the cramped, sweltering cockpit that reeked of grease and mana-oil, Sir Riven let out a wild laugh—a sound born of pure adrenaline and predatory instinct.
"Keep pushing! Don't give them room to breathe!" Riven roared as he slammed the hydraulic steering lever to the left.
The Titan's iron treads ground into the earth with an agonizing crunch, pulverizing enemy supply wagons into kindling. The vibration inside the cabin was violent, but the gargantuan spring suspension system—Rumina's masterpiece—worked flawlessly to cushion the impact on their spines.
"Rianor! Rotate the turret to three o'clock!" Riven commanded. "The remnants of their cavalry are trying to rally behind that ridge! Sweep them with the Railgun before they can break away!"
Rianor, strapped into the gunner's seat, adjusted the targeting wheel with surgical precision. The green sonar display before him showed a cluster of red dots moving in a frantic huddle.
"Target locked," Rianor murmured coldly. "Priming capacitors... ready to fire."
Rianor squeezed the red trigger on his control stick.
CLICK.
Silence.
There was no deafening sonic boom. No needle-projectile split the air. Only a low, electrical hum that abruptly died with a disappointing pfft.
"Rianor?" Riven frowned, glancing sideways. "What happened? Fire!"
"Dammit!" Rianor barked, slamming his fist against the control panel. "The cooling system's blown, Riven! The barrel is glowing! Look at the heat indicator!"
Riven glanced at the instrument panel. The temperature needle was buried deep in the lethal red zone.
"Where's the cooling fan?!"
"It's jammed! Probably took in dust from that last blast!" Rianor shouted, sweat pouring down his forehead. "If we force another shot, this Adamantite barrel will slag and the Railgun will detonate in our faces! We'll die like sardines in a tin can!"
"Then what?! We're a sitting duck if we just stay here!"
"I need fifteen minutes for a manual cooldown!"
"Fifteen minutes?!" Riven's eyes widened. He peered through the steel observation slit. "In the middle of a battlefield, fifteen minutes is a lifetime, Rianor! The enemy is going to realize we've malfunctioned!"
Riven's prediction proved swifter than he feared. Amidst the swirling smoke and dancing flames a hundred meters ahead, a gargantuan shadow rose from the wreckage of the command tent. The earth shuddered as its heavy iron feet hammered the ground.
THUMP... THUMP...
It was Colonel Varg's Juggernaut-type War Golem. The four-meter-tall killing machine was the embodiment of the Iron Empire's brutal, crude steam technology. Its body was forged from thick cast-iron plates held together by thousands of rusted rivets. From its back, three smokestacks belched thick, black soot into the air, accompanied by an intimidating hiss of pressure.
Its movements were stiff and lumbering, driven by leaking, noisy hydraulic pistons—CLANK... HISS...—but its sheer mass meant speed was no longer a factor. Mounted on its right arm was a massive circular saw that began to spin with a high-pitched whine. WIRRRRR...
Colonel Varg's voice boomed through the speaker-funnel at the Golem's neck.
"HAH! WHY HAVE YOU STOPPED, NORTHERN RAT?! RUN OUT OF BREATH ALREADY?!"
The Golem marched forward, kicking a horse-drawn carriage out of its path as if it were a mere pebble. Varg had realized that the Iron Duke was no longer spitting death.
"YOUR WEAPON IS JAMMED! I KNOW THE WEAKNESS OF NEW TECH!" Varg roared in triumph. "MY TURN TO PEEL THIS TIN CAN OPEN!"
The Golem broke into a lumbering charge. It was slow, but the momentum of five tons of iron was lethal. It raised the massive saw high, ready to cleave the Titan's roof in two.
In the back seat, Elara and Rumina turned deathly pale.
"Riven! Reverse! Put it in reverse!" Rumina shrieked. "Our armor is thick, but it won't hold against an industrial saw!"
Riven stared at the approaching iron monster. His eyes narrowed into sharp slits. He didn't touch the reverse lever. Instead, he calmly unbuckled his safety harness. Click.
"Rianor," Riven said, his voice flat and dangerous.
"What?! Don't be insane, Riven!"
"Open the top hatch."
"What?! You'll be exposed to small arms fire!" Rianor protested.
"Open it, or I'll kick this door off its hinges!" Riven barked. He grabbed his Chain-Axe from where it leaned against his seat. Riven smirked—a smile that could make the most hardened thug flinch.
"Your machines might jam, Rianor. Your technology might fail. But my muscles? My muscles don't overheat."
Rianor let out a resigned sigh. He knew there was no point in arguing once his brother's "madness" was triggered. He hit the hydraulic hatch release. HISS... CLANK.
The Titan's roof hatch swung open, letting the reek of blood and the sharp tang of gunpowder flood the cabin. Riven climbed out. He stood tall on the Titan's flat roof, letting the night wind whip through his hair. The brilliant searchlight at his feet made Riven look like a demonic silhouette in the eyes of the enemy soldiers.
"HEY, YOU OVERGROWN KETTLE!" Riven's roar thundered over the rumble of the Golem's engine.
Inside the Golem's cockpit, Colonel Varg recoiled in shock to see a man exiting his protection. "YOU?! YOU CHALLENGE A STEAM ENGINE WITH AN AXE?! DIE, YOU PRIMITIVE FOOL!"
Varg didn't waste the opportunity. He swung the Golem's right arm in a wide, horizontal arc. The massive saw-blade whistled toward Riven's head at a speed capable of shearing through steel.
ZINGGG!
Riven didn't dodge to the side. He did the unthinkable: he leaped forward. Channeling his Orange Aura, Riven's leg muscles exploded with raw power. He leaped three meters into the air, vaulting right over the lethal arc of the saw. Varg's blade missed, slicing only air and leaving a shower of sparks as it grazed the Titan's roof.
THUD!
Riven landed hard squarely on the Golem's left shoulder. His black steel armor slammed against the rough cast iron with a resounding clang. He slipped slightly on the surface, which was slick with lubricant and steam, but he quickly found his footing.
"GET DOWN, YOU PARASITE!" Varg panicked.
The Golem shook violently, trying to throw Riven off. Its left arm, ended in a massive pincer, swung up to swat his own shoulder like a man swatting a bothersome mosquito.
"Missed me!"
Riven rolled across the Golem's back, deftly avoiding the iron claw. Varg immediately activated the short-range defense system. PSSSHHHHT! A blast of superheated, high-pressure steam erupted from the Golem's neck joints.
"ARGH!" Riven groaned as the steam scalded his face. His skin felt like it was on fire, but the adrenaline flooding his system allowed him to ignore the pain. He gripped the Golem's glowing exhaust pipe with his left hand to anchor himself. His leather glove began to smoke.
"Finished with your steam toys?" Riven growled directly beside the Golem's cockpit slit. He raised his right hand and squeezed the trigger on his axe-hilt.
VROOOOM!
The mana-engine inside the axe roared to life. Its Adamantite saw-blade spun at full velocity, its high-pitched whine promising absolute destruction.
"Knock, knock! Express delivery from the North!"
With a war cry that split the night, Riven slammed his axe into the Golem's neck joint—the weakest point where the steel plates met the hydraulic hinges.
KREAAAKKK!
The sound of screeching metal was agonizing. The Iron Empire's cheap cast iron stood no chance against Adamantite. Riven's axe chewed through the metal like a chainsaw through rotting wood. Black hydraulic fluid sprayed into Riven's face, mingling with a wild spray of sparks.
"NO! IMPOSSIBLE!" Varg shrieked from within the cabin.
Riven drove the axe deeper, severing the main steam line and cutting the control cables until he breached the cockpit roof.
BOOM!
A small explosion occurred from the extreme pressure leak. The gargantuan robot convulsed for a moment before losing all power. Its iron knees buckled, hitting the ground with an earth-shattering thud.
CRASH!
A thick shroud of white steam enveloped the mechanical carcass. Riven leaped down from the Golem's shoulder, landing firmly in the muddy earth. His breath was ragged, steam rising from his lips in the cold night air.
He walked toward the Golem's chest and delivered a kick to the dented cockpit door, tearing it clean off. KANG!
Inside, Colonel Varg was coughing violently. His face was flushed from the steam, his ornate uniform scorched, and his arrogance had evaporated. He fumbled for the pistol at his hip with trembling hands. Too late. The still-spinning blade of Riven's axe was pressed against his throat.
"Don't," Riven said coldly. His gaze at that moment was more terrifying than any ghost. "Move a muscle, and your head rolls."
Varg froze. He looked around through the shattered cockpit. In the distance, his soldiers had already cast aside their weapons. The Ghost Squad was still watching calmly from the ridge. And directly before him stood a man in black armor who had just dismantled a war machine with his bare hands.
"I... I surrender..." Varg whispered, his voice breaking.
Riven cut the engine on his axe. Silence reclaimed the plains.
"MISSION COMPLETE!" Riven roared, hoisting his axe high into the air.
A thunderous cheer from the Red Lion recruits erupted instantly, echoing throughout the valley. That night, beneath the moonlight and the fading embers, a new legend was born. A legend of House Sudrath, who crushed a modern army with raw courage and the steel of the future.