Shattered Sovereign

Dawn crept over the volcano's edge as I performed final adjustments to my war frame. The morning's lamp light filtered through the workshop windows, casting long shadows across the floor where my mechanical children gathered to see me off.

This workshop is under your supervision, I told the two Tireless units standing at attention. Maintain order and ensure all systems function optimally until my return.

They bowed in perfect unison, their steel chassis glinting softly in the light.

I turned to the assembled constructs. Wheeled units rolled back and forth anxiously. Aerial units hovered at varying heights, their propellers creating gentle currents. The quadrupedal units stood in neat rows, occasionally shifting their weight from leg to leg.

Rolly broke formation, rolling toward me in its characteristic erratic pattern.

Behave yourself, I said, reaching down to adjust a slightly misaligned panel on its housing. No escaping the workshop perimeter. No bothering the children in the marketplace.

The round construct spun in rapid circles, its panels opening and closing in what I'd come to recognize as excitement rather than acknowledgment. I found myself oddly moved by the simple machine's response.

I'll return when I've reached level one hundred, I announced to the gathering. Continue your assigned functions.

I hefted my sword-lance, checking its weight one final time. My Depository held all the materials I might need for repairs or construction (metals, tools, enchantment components) safely stored in its dimensional space. No physical baggage would slow my progress.

The five scout spiders followed as I exited the workshop, their metal legs clicking rhythmically against the stone floor. Chonsey, with its faded pink paint, scuttled ahead of the others, chittering excitedly and occasionally performing unnecessary vertical leaps.

The enclave's streets were nearly deserted this early. A few Tireless units worked at the water system's maintenance points. Occasional Voiceless guards stood at intersections, their red carapace noticeable in the morning light. The few monsters awake at this hour gave me a wide berth, some bowing respectfully, others simply averting their eyes.

As we approached the eastern gate, I spotted three figures waiting, not the two I had expected.

Casper stood with his greatsword strapped to his back, a small pack at his feet. Beside him, Barkatus leaned against the wall, his auric steel longsword hanging at his hip. The third figure surprised me: Arctur, wearing newly crafted armor of hardened leather reinforced with metal plates. His red spear rested casually against his shoulder, and a travel pack sat by his clawed feet.

What are you doing here? I asked Arctur, stopping before the trio.

Barkatus grinned, his scarred face twisting into something between menace and mirth. "I invited him. Figured we could use someone who knows the Hellzone."

What about your injuries? I asked Arctur, recalling the severe wounds he'd sustained during Morrg's betrayal.

The lizardman shrugged, his scales glinting. "Pretty much healed. Besides, you need someone familiar with the Central Hellzone to guide you to the good hunting grounds." He tapped his spear against the stone. "The Prophet's gift hasn't let me down yet."

"He'll just slow us down," Casper grumbled, adjusting his greatsword. "We need to move fast, hit hard. No time for babysitting."

Barkatus chuckled, the sound echoing off the volcanic walls. "Give the kid a chance, old man. He's a tough son of a bitch; he'll surprise you." He patted his sword hilt. "Besides, the lizard needs to level up if he wants to catch up to the rest of us."

Arctur nodded.

Casper snorted. "Not my decision to make." He looked pointedly at me.

I considered the situation. Having a guide who knew the deeper regions would be valuable. Arctur had proven his loyalty during the caravan incident, fighting against his own kind to protect the humans. And his mysterious red spear remained an intriguing weapon I hadn't yet had opportunity to study properly.

Welcome aboard, I told Arctur. Please take us to the deepest part of the Hellzone, where the strongest monsters lurk.

Arctur didn't appear shocked by my request. He simply nodded, turned, and began walking through the gate into the expanse of black sand beyond.

Casper sighed, shouldering his pack. Barkatus grinned wider, following the lizardman with an eager stride. My scout spiders formed a loose perimeter around us as we ventured forth, leaving the relative safety of the enclave behind.

The obsidian sand crunched beneath our feet. The distant volcano receded behind us. Ahead lay only the black wasteland and whatever monstrous challenges it might offer on my path to level one hundred.

Arctur barely escaped the Whipper Crab's attack, its serrated tail lashing through the air and striking the obsidian sand with enough force to send black granules flying. The barbed appendage left a crater where the lizardman had stood just moments before.

"Stay back, dammit!" Casper shouted, his greatsword momentarily forgotten as he slammed his armored fist into the monster's head. The impact sent the horse-sized crustacean staggering sideways, its multiple legs skittering for balance. "These things have range!"

Barkatus darted forward, his auric steel blade catching the light as he carved deep gouges into the creature's carapace. "Like this, lizard!" he called to Arctur. "Find the weak points between the plates!"

The Whipper Crab recovered with surprising speed, rising on its jointed legs. Its massive shield-like front claws drew upward, forming an armored barrier to protect its vulnerable face. Behind it, that deadly tail shifted position, coiling tightly as it prepared for another devastating strike.

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I activated three pneumatic systems simultaneously, launching a tendril toward the creature's rear. The dragon-headed appendage shot forward, mechanical jaws clamping around the monster's tail just as it began to uncoil. The tendril's teeth bit deep, holding the deadly appendage immobile.

Now! I called.

Casper and Arctur responded instantly, driving their weapons into the monster's defensive claws. The greatsword and red spear pierced through with synchronized precision, causing the Whipper Crab to stagger backward, its balance compromised.

I seized the opening, thrusting my sword-lance into a gap between the creature's side plates. With a mental command, I triggered the weapon's secondary function, igniting the compressed mana in its chamber. The explosion reverberated through the lance's shaft, propelling the lead projectile deep into the monster's body with devastating force.

The Whipper Crab let out a gurgling sound, its many legs twitching erratically before it collapsed onto the black sand. Dark ichor seeped from multiple wounds, staining the obsidian granules beneath it.

A system notification appeared in my vision:

I scanned the notification for any indication of level advancement, finding none. Still level 77.

Casper wiped sweat from his brow, his eyes questioning as he glanced my way.

I shook my head.

"Don't worry about it," he said, cleaning his blade on the monster's carapace. "The higher you get up in levels, the harder it gets to gain them. Once we start finding monsters at your level or higher, you'll see progress."

I nodded mechanically, already aware of the system's logarithmic experience requirements. The knowledge did nothing to ease my frustration.

For five days we'd been hunting across this wasteland, pushing deeper into the Central Hellzone with each passing hour. We'd fought Sand Dogs, Razor Crabs, Molt Fish, and countless other monstrosities. The creatures grew stronger the further we traveled from the enclave, yet still not strong enough to significantly advance my level.

Arctur retrieved his spear from the crab's claw, the red weapon showing not a scratch despite the force he'd used to drive it through the armored plate. "Another mile east and we should reach the Glass Plains," he said, examining the horizon. "The monsters there are much stronger."

His progress had been substantial; six levels gained in our expedition, bringing him to level 39. Barkatus had added three levels to reach 61, and even Casper had managed to climb from 70 to 71. Everyone was advancing except me.

I ran a diagnostic on my war frame while the others caught their breath. All systems functioned at optimal capacity, though the hydraulics in my right arm showed minor stress from repeated high-impact encounters. Nothing that required immediate attention.

"Let's keep moving," I said, retracting my tendril and reloading my sword-lance. The scout spiders fanned out ahead, their metal legs clicking against the hardened sand as they searched for threats.

Each defeated monster that failed to advance my progress intensified my sense of urgency. Somewhere beyond the mortal realm, the gods plotted. One of their pawns possessed Vardin's Mantle of Machinery, wielding power they couldn't possibly understand. The other deities would be hunting me, seeking to destroy me before I could hatch the godseed.

But the godseed would remain dormant until I reached level 100. Every day spent at level 77 was another day for my enemies to prepare, another day for them to find me before I could claim my prize.

"You seem distracted," Barkatus noted as we resumed our march across the wasteland.

Just calculating probabilities, I replied, my mental voice flat and mechanical.

"Well, calculate faster," he said with a grin. "I smell something big up ahead."

In the distance, the black sand gave way to a glassy plain that shimmered under the harsh sun. Something massive moved there, its outline blurred by heat waves rising from the obsidian surface.

Perhaps this would be the challenge I needed.

The Glass Plains stretched before us, a vast expanse where the black sands had fused into pure obsidian glass. The surface gleamed with an almost iridescent quality, reflecting the harsh sunlight in mesmerizing patterns across its polished darkness. Unlike the shifting dunes we'd traversed, this landscape offered no place to hide, no sand to burrow beneath, no rocky outcroppings for shelter.

I activated Mind Sight, focusing on the distant mass that undulated across the glassy terrain. My vision magnified, penetrating the heat waves that distorted the horizon. What had appeared as one enormous entity resolved into thousands of individual forms, moving in perfect synchronization like a living wave.

Locust Crabs, I announced, analyzing the swarm. Thousands of them, ranging from level forty-two to sixty-eight.

The creatures skittered across the glass, their black shells clicking against the surface as they moved over and around each other. Their pincer-like appendages extended from segmented bodies, snapping at the air with mechanical precision. Some were barely larger than my scout spiders, while others approached the size of large dogs.

"Sweet merciful gods," Barkatus whistled, shading his eyes with one hand. "That's going to be one hell of a fight."

Casper snorted, crossing his arms over his chest. "Jumping into that would be suicide. Even for a Berserker."

I calculated our odds, imagining the combat we'd face from such a massive swarm of enemies. The numbers weren't promising, but the potential experience gain was substantial. Each crab defeated would contribute to my advancement, and with thousands available...

I need to get stronger, I said, my voice resolute. This is the perfect opportunity.

My companions exchanged glances. I rotated my mechanical shoulders, hydraulics hissing as I prepared my systems for intense combat.

"I can handle this alone," I offered. "There's no need for you to risk your lives."

Casper's laugh was sharp and dismissive. "Where you go, I go. You're my god, after all." His hand rested on his greatsword's hilt, fingers tightening with anticipation.

Barkatus unsheathed his auric steel blade, the metal catching the light. "You already know what I'll say." He turned to Arctur with a challenging grin. "Though the lizard here is still a puny level thirty-nine. Maybe he should stay behind."

Arctur laughed, then spat at Barkatus's feet. "Not on your life, monkey." His red spear materialized in his grip, the mysterious weapon humming with energy that I still couldn't identify despite numerous attempts to analyze it.

One by one, they removed their packs, setting them on the black sand at the edge of the glass plain. Their weapons rose in unison, and I scanned their expressions, expecting to find fear or hesitation. Instead, I saw only eagerness; their eyes shone with a hunger for battle that matched my own determination.

Something unexpected stirred within me, a warmth that defied logical categorization. These three warriors, so different from each other, united in their willingness to face death alongside me. Was this what humans called loyalty? Friendship?

I expanded my chest plate, venting excess heat as I readied my nine dragon-headed tendrils. Each mechanical appendage uncoiled, their auric steel components gleaming in the harsh light. My sword-lance hummed as I activated its mana chambers, preparing for sustained combat.

Formation delta, I instructed, my tactical systems already mapping our approach. Casper takes point. Barkatus and Arctur on flanks. I'll provide close-ranged support and target the largest specimens.

They nodded, falling into position with practiced ease. We'd developed an efficient combat rhythm over the past days, each adapting to the others' strengths and compensating for weaknesses.

Stay within support range, I added. And remember-

"Kill everything that moves," Barkatus finished with a savage grin.

Arctur twirled his spear, scales rippling with anticipation. "Try to keep up, human."

Casper simply nodded, his eyes already taking on the distant focus that preceded his Berserk state.

I felt my lips form what might have been a smile. These three weren't just companions; they were extensions of my will, instruments of my ascension. With them, level 100 was not a question of if, but when.

"Last one there is crab food!" Casper growled.

With a synchronized battle cry that echoed across the Glass Plains, we charged toward the undulating black mass. The Locust Crabs in the distance sensed our approach, the swarm shifting direction like a sentient tide, thousands of pincers rising in unison to meet us.