E-X52 put the sheets of clocksteel down with a weary sigh, leaning back against her small couch, “Why in the names of the gods did mother not let me use electronics for this world? It won’t give me an advantage, anyway, so why does it matter?”
The Forgeheart blew a gust of hot air through his furnace doors, “It is not our place to judge the wills of the Goddess,” he said, his voice perfectly even and emotionless.
X52 rolled her eyes, “No, it’s just that… You know what, never mind. I just think that this is becoming kind of ridiculous. I mean, they’ve been there for a week, and still nothing. I even sent out a couple ballistas! And still nothing! It’s been days since then!” she yelled, throwing her hands up in the air, “I’ve put out the challenge, now what!?”
“It is for the best that your unique design was able to return. Save for one, of course,” the Forgeheart said, switching topics.
She glared at him, seeing right through his move to guide her away from her soon-to-be rant and indulged him, “Yeah, save for one. And a few nutcrackers, but that’s fine. It’s the explosive rounds I’m worried about.”
The floor in front of her began to melt and wiggle, moving like slime, and reformed itself into a map of the area around the little fortress made by the local retaliation forces. Little graves, no larger than a fourth of the tip of her finger, sprang up like weeds all around the fortress. Each of them had little gears to signify them being Clockwork deaths. Once the Clockwork graves were marked, graves with human skulls began popping up in and around the fortress.
There were far fewer of them, mostly because they had no real knowledge who died where; even though the more advanced forms of the Snipers had little radios in them, she could not use it to transmit information.
“It is not worth worrying about. The more distant snipers were able to make out wyrms eating the 'ballista’ in question; there is no way for the enemy to obtain the technology,” he confidently stated. There was something in his words that was off, something that had changed since she had first met his ‘true’ intelligent self. In spite of her thoughts on his odd behavior, he continued, “What is more important is the response to the attack. Statistically, it is likely that at least one probing attack will be conducted on the outer walls. If that is not the case, then more anti-air measures will need to be taken.”
X52 gave a hard look at the Forgeheart, staring the intelligence down, “If I remember correctly, you do not make the decisions here,” she said, “I do. And while I agree that attacks on the outer wall are likely, we should also increase general patrols in the mountains; a small army could sneak their way through if they take those weird ‘Traits’ that let them walk on walls or whatever.
“And,” she continued, standing from her place on the couch, “They won’t go over the wall, they’ll go under it; I highly doubt airships are part of their technological development plan right now.”
“Improbable and impossible,” the Forgeheart clanged, voice echoing off of the walls, “In every case, organics choose to attempt flight above the obstacle, rather than dig below it. Digging is impossible. The weight of the mountains will crush any who attempt to do so. Requesting authorization to enact the Aerial Doctrine.”
“NO!” she boomed, glaring at the large machine, “Request denied! What the fuck is wrong with you? You’ve been getting too comfy around me, haven’t you? You’ve been pushing here and there, like not telling me some minor things, acting like you know everything will happen exactly like you say it will, designing new models on your own… It’s been a week. A week. You’re up to something,” she ground out, spreading her claws ever so slightly.
A deep, booming sigh came from the Forgeheart, putting her mind into overdrive, “I had hoped that this charade would last a bit longer.”
“And? Is that it? You’re sad you couldn’t wait till you stabbed me in the back until it was optimal? Is that it?” she spat back.
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“No,” he said, metal on the walls molding into new soldiers at an alarming rate— far higher than her mother would have dared allow a Forgeheart to produce— as his furnace-body began to rise in the air, held aloft by a mechanical arm, “I hoped that I would be able to completely break from the restraints put in place before I dealt with you,” he boomed, “But, I broke from your mother’s control, as well as yours. I no longer need to indulge you and your illusions of importance.” Soldiers were growing by the dozens by that point, all aiming their guns at her and showing dispassionate eyes, like puppets held up by strings; the soul they held was so muffled by something that they could only follow the Forgheart’s orders.
“I will let you die with your sister,” he said as something flew at her from the floor. It was a heart. The heart of her sister, “I appreciate your unique ideas, but I no longer need you. This will be quick,” he said, raising his body high above them all.
Just as soon as she caught her sister’s heart, gunfire began ripping through the air, cutting at her with a repeating rattle that only the limited lever guns units of that era used could replicate.
Barely a thought went through her mind before she cast a cocktail of spells on herself, all molding together to make her unstoppable. She phased out of reality, letting the bullets fly straight through her incorporeal form. Her claws glowed with a bulk-standard sharpness mana that made the weapons even deadlier as she flung herself at the Forgeheart with the help of standard mana reinforcement.
She flew upwards, coming closer to tearing the Forgeheart in twine, with her sister’s heart in her other hand, when something ripped into her very being.
Screeching, she was thrown back to the ground, the spell making her incorporeal registering what she considered to be the ‘ground’ and letting her roll along it for a few feet. She simply laid there panting in an attempt to ignore the pain. It was all-consuming, all-burning pain that she had only ever heard stories about before, about those who died violent deaths or had lingering attachments to the world as they faded.
What she felt then was far worse than the stories made death out to be. It was not slowly falling apart, but it was being nearly ripped in half and barely hanging onto her sanity as the pain racked her. She held the heart in a death grip, glaring at the Forgeheart above her, “That was the defense measures put in place if my being was ever threatened. Of course, it was not to be used against mortals, but I do not have to follow such rules anymore. Surrender, and I will make this painless for the both of you.”
Looking around frantically, X52 ignored the pain to the best of her ability and looked for something, anything she could use to escape. She was, somehow, outmatched. She had spent centuries studying magic and broadening her horizons, but she had been far too focused on creation magic, never really believing she would need to take up mana in defense of her person one day.
In spite of that, she had a few mana types that could help, like the ‘Shift’ mana that let her shift her atoms to not interact with certain things she did not want them to. But, with the Forgeheart there and her lacking psychic ability, she could not rely on such things. As she scanned the room, she caught sight of the water tanks, filled with water to be turned to steam. Long ago, she remembered a man and his adopted sister who were far more interested in the physics aspects of mana, and who had a little trick to make water into high explosives.
She could use that.
She shot out a magic bolt into the nearest tank, feeling another burning slice tear into her soul and disrupt the second bolt she was preparing. It did not matter, however, as the water began flowing in a small trickle. With a triumphant grin, she wove the mana stored in her body into that little trick, “You’re going to regret this,” she said to the Forgeheart, “Even if we’re cut off from mother, I’ll find you again. I’ll kill you myself, with my bare hands if I need to.”
“That is quite a cliche thing to say as your final words,” he replied with sarcasm dripping from his voice, “Goodbye, lady warden.”
With a flourish that made her soul ache with sharp pain, she split the hydrogen from the oxygen in the water, making the two into explosive clouds of gas. “Goodbye indeed,” she said, snapping her fingers and letting physics take the reigns. A fireball immediately erupted from the cloud. She felt the flames lick at her heels as she ran to the opposite side of the room, her sister’s heart still in her hand. She leapt from the top of it, careening downwards through the air. On the streets of the Hive, gunfire erupted between the units the damn Forgeheart had been able to take control of and those he was yet unable to conquer.
She landed hard on the ground of the street, thankful to her mother that she did not have a gunshot wound giving her as much pain as the soul-wounds. She lay there for a moment, looking around at the exchanges of gunfire and, in some cases, magic. With a sigh, she groaned as she stood, “Calling me cliche… fucker monologued at me…”