NOVEL NEXT 120. Falling Rain
Those who made it out gazed at the center of the crater with their shields raised high. A single thought traveled among them, wondering if it was over. However, the screeching of gears soon crawled out of the darkness. Its massive frame rose from the ashes. And for a heartbeat, it hung in the air, shuddering like a beast on the verge of death.
The men formed ranks. Barely locking the shields by their sides in place as a scorching sphere came crashing down. Their arms burned, but they gritted their teeth and endured, summoning a wall of aura that flared around them. They braced against the unrelenting force with dirt piling against their metal boots. All in desperation to protect their brothers behind them. The shroud broke before them, and standing in defiance was the war machine. Its legs buried beneath layers of debris that refused to let go. Gears churning and creaking like screams wishing to be free.
Tucker watched as the last cloud of dust settled on the cold floor. He focused on the soldiers. Their weapons gleamed through the flames as they marched against the odds. The spells sizzled in the icy spring rain. Only to get torn apart by the arrows unleashed by the soldiers stationed on the rooftop. They had the golem right where they wanted it. Cornered. Trapped in a position it could no longer run from.
Each soldier carried a burning fury in their eyes. A glare that roared for vengeance. Their bodies swiftly crossed the crumbling terrain, inching closer to the fallen golem. Bits of metal broke off with the slightest movement, and a deep rumble left its vents. Whistles cut through the air, followed by the hiss of a hundred bowstrings. The myriad of colors released from the aura-clad arrows painted a world beyond the thundering clouds.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
The arrowheads struck the metal in a relentless storm, burying themselves deep into the cracks of the golem's shield. It buckled beneath the force, seeking shelter as the attacks shook its core. Yet the men wouldn't let it. They closed in from all sides as the machine turned its head. The smell of ash filled the air. Embers that had yet to extinguish glistened along their blades.
They were only steps away from their foe. Steps away from their revenge. No order was given, and none was needed. In one unified moment, they charged forth. A wave of men hurtling towards a mountain of living metal. Their cries roared into the sky, a defiant roar against the grinding rumble of gears and glowing runes etched into the machine's armor.
For a heartbeat, the battlefield became a clash of wills, of fragile flesh against towering steel. Within the chaos of intertwining steel and iron was a spirit blooming with courage. Their spears jabbed and broke against the golem's defenses. Their shields shattered as the machine swung its arm, crushing the soldiers beneath its weight. Yet, despite the odds, the soldiers continued to fight.
Blood smeared its armor. The war machine's gears slowed and stalled, barely creaking as each attack tore into its body. Tucker circled around the golem. He scanned the machine, searching for an opening, but its gaze followed his every movement. Somehow, it felt like the colossus had a conscience. That the foe before him was more than just a machine.
But before he could even move, the sound of footsteps entered his ears. Brian was leading his men forward with Max following close behind. Their weapons blazed with power. The aura of the kingdom's elite pressed down on the terrain so fiercely that it trembled.
And in the wake of the approaching danger, the war machine's mechanisms churned once more. Scorching steam blew from its vents. It clasped onto its shield with both hands and desperately swung the hulking piece of metal in a full crescent. Men were blown back along with the rubble, but Brian's advance continued. They broke out in a charge, surging forth as thick layers of hexagonal shields swept across the crater. Their boots hammered the muddy ground. The cold rain struck their armor and seeped through the gaps before drenching their clothes. But none of them cared.
They had seen what the barriers were capable of and the sheer force of the foe. However, this time, Brian and Max were ready. All the knights stood side by side and channeled their aura. Their condensed energy shimmered with each step. The cascade of footsteps thundered towards the golem. Only to stop as they swung their blades down from above. Each strike carved a streak of light through the air.
Their combined force crackled against the golem's barrier as fragments of energy danced on its surface. The first layer held for a moment before shattering like glass. Brian's men opened the way for the next wave of soldiers and, without halting their momentum, Max led his forces in.
"Forward!" Max roared at the top of his lungs.
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Battle cries emerged like a wave among his ranks. They pushed through the crumbling barrier with determination in their hearts. Bringing down their aura-clad weapons upon the second layer as the ground shuddered. The hexagonal shields cracked beneath their strikes, and now only one more barrier stood in their path. Tucker sprinted with the other watchmen, closing in as his boots hit the fractured earth.
There was only one obstacle in their path. One hurdle for them to overcome. Every defender on the battlefield could feel the victory that was just out of their grasp, and the only ones who made it through the openings were the watchmen. Four watchmen who had stood together and formed the Thirty-First.
"We'll open up the path!" Luka shouted.
"Just stay close, Captain!" Ray called back.
They were meters from the final barrier, with Ray and Luka spearheading the assault. The duo infused their blades with every ounce of aura they had. The spirit essence hummed as it coiled around their swords. One of flames, another of stone. With every layer they broke, the weaker the barrier became.
The constant layers of defense it tried to manifest dwindled. A faint shrieking sound escaped the golem, but it was too late. With one powerful thrust, the two plunged their blades into the fragile barrier. Cracks splintered across the surface, and seeing the opportunity, Benjamin struck. His hands grasped the great hammer with a grip that defied death. Thunder crackled on the surface of his weapon, and with one last thunderous blow, the last shelter the golem had crumbled.
Tucker could see it. The cylindrical device that stored the machine's source of power. A whirlwind of mana was churning from the container, leaking out into the surroundings. It was akin to poison. Slowly burning away at the air, but against the breeze that protected him. He could get closer.
The colossus's limbs groaned as Tucker drew near. It raised its arm, dragging it across the land in a wild arc before its body. Debris hurled in his direction, but before it could land, Tucker twisted his blade. Cutting down the fragments that flew towards him.
Just a bit more, and every sacrifice they made would've been worth it.
Tucker gathered mana within the soles of his boots, utilizing feather step to precisely maneuver towards the golem. He narrowly evaded the second sweep of the golem's attack, slipping beneath its arm as the shield came crashing down. Mud and stone battered the battlefield as thunder roared from above. Rain hammered against its surroundings, rushing into the crater that held the colossus.
Droplets slid from his blade as his eyes locked on the war machine. With one decisive strike, he cut into the cylindrical container, rending the metal shell as flickering runes cried out in pain. Mana poured out like a dam that had burst. The golem violently shuddered, its frame creaking under the strain, but Tucker knew it wasn't over. Not until he fully destroyed the device.
He pivoted on his heel, turning back to the mana device to land the final strike. But as his gaze fell on the long gash on the machine's surface, his heart stopped. The source of mana wasn't a crystal or an object that the Empire had created. It was a small child whose flesh fused with the machine itself. Tubes and wires burrowed into the young boy's body. A boy who was no more than eight to ten years old.
Tucker froze as if his soul had left him. Disbelief filled his mind. He couldn't begin to imagine what the poor child had been through. But after seeing what the Empire had done, an emptiness took hold of his heart. He clenched his weapon and pushed down the sorrow in his chest.
He stared at the child as a figure flashed through his mind. A young girl stood before him with pale skin and a mess of curly amber hair. Her violet eyes brimmed with wonder, longing to see a world beyond the Empire's chains.
He thought of Adira.
A child he had saved from the Empire. The one who had smiled despite the cruelty of the world and the only decision he didn't regret, even as the Order branded him with disgrace. His records were marked with a scarlet seal that stripped him of his accomplishments, of his goals. But compared to what he was seeing—what he was feeling—it meant nothing.
Tucker's hand trembled. The rain pressed down against his shoulders, urging for a decision as if time was running out. He didn't want to kill the boy, and every fiber of him screamed against it. But he had to. They sacrificed countless lives just to reach this moment.
The Empire didn't just make a weapon.
They had broken a child.
And the only thing Tucker could do was put an end to the tragedy.
The aura around his sword hardened as he fought back the tears. He gritted his teeth, trying to think of a way to save the child, but deep down he already knew that it wasn't possible. Grief burned within his chest, and with one steady thrust, he drove the sword through the young boy's heart.
A soft gasp escaped the child's lips. His eyes met Tucker's with a warm and sluggish gaze. Blood touched the corner of his mouth, yet not a scream broke free. Only the faintest of smiles that had been through enough.
Tucker stared at the boy with eyes that were on the verge of breaking. The machine was falling apart, barely held together by the last traces of mana within the child's body. Not a word escaped him as the rain fell from the sky. Yet it was in that silence that the boy whispered something beneath his breath. In a voice far too quiet for him to hear.
A single tear slid down the side of Tucker's face before fading into the rain. In the boy's fragile smile, he saw gratitude. A silent thank-you to the man who had taken his pain, who had given him the peace the Empire had stolen. No words were exchanged between them as Tucker lowered his blade in silence. His throat was too tight for comfort, his heart too heavy for lies.
All he could do was offer one last kindness to the boy who endured. He pulled the cape free from his shoulders. Laying it gently over the boy's small frame while shielding him from the storm. As the child's last breath slipped free, the war machine's gears finally halted. Leaving only the sound of falling rain.