Marc stood in place, tapping his foot while watching the trees sway softly in the wind. The refinery had been his location for the past 3 months, and he’d hated every single second of it. The word repugnant came to mind, but his understanding of what that word meant was limited. He’d heard it used by a Captain to describe dirty barracks, and he assumed it just meant that it was bad or disgusting. At a bare minimum, he just thought that the position of refinery guard was boring.
He’d joined the army for glory and action, for the art of battle and all of the rewards he may reap from it. He wanted to live, to fight and destroy those who decided to stand against Arlin. Through the power of the burner, he would shoot down anyone who came against him and claim glory.
He had not, however, signed up to stare at the woods in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere Boralis. It was killing him how little action he had gotten out of basic training. He knew about the war in Hornel through the occasional messages they’d get from their regular transports of supplies, and every story he’d heard sounded exactly like that dream he had when he first decided to become a conscript. The build up, the push and pull of combat and the slow crawl as the nation is broken into submission. Yet here he was, stuck at a refinery forced to watch some poor hicks and criminals carry and man the machinery which refined magore. None of the other people here really seemed to care either. They were either doing it for the eventual pay that they would get after their service or were like Marc in their now betrayed desire for glory.
I hate this. I want to fight. I want to live.
If anything, Marc wanted to be farther away from the unrefined magore. Being near it felt like someone was boiling your insides after long periods. He’d heard the many horror stories of what unrefined magore does to people without aptitude, which made him very glad he wasn’t a penal laborer or one of the disgusting mining slaves. True, holding the burner for long periods did make him feel slightly sick, but it was nothing compared to those massive bricks of refined magore or the unrefined stuff.
Hope the next shipment of supplies comes with more to drink instead of carrying another fucking slave. I swear, that last one had to be the youngest I’ve ever seen.
To make it even worse, that crew of idiots who were stationed nearby had to come up here asking for repairs to their stuff and new magore loved talking about all their adventures. Marc wanted to admire them for their service and their actions in the actual war for Boralis, but their constant bragging about some fantastical past just made him want to punch them in their throats.
He should be living that dream. Not those witless pieces of shit who act like being able to aim a burner in a straight line is a medal-worthy accomplishment. Boralis wasn’t even a glorious campaign, it was a one-sided massacre. Even still, he wished he could have at least seen the fields of combat. Anything, even Corith, would have been better than whatever this was. But no, he was stuck here, his talents and vigor going to waste. It was repugnant… he thinks. Whatever the word meant, he felt like it described his current life.
He looked at the sun in the middle of the sky and checked the timekeeper in his pocket. The days were getting shorter as winter got ever closer. If he was going to be stuck here longer, that meant he would be stuck out here in the cold watching for nothing.
As he sighed and put it away, his eyes returned to the treeline as he heard a different sound from the swaying of the trees. It sounded like a crack, as if one piece was broken apart or if two pieces were smacked together. It was probably just a tree branch snapping due to some wild animal. He turned to see if the other guard stationed near him had also heard it only to find him on the ground. It was faint, but he could hear what sounded like gurgling coming from him. He slowly began to approach him to check up on whether he was ok or not, but heard the sound again.
Yet this time, he saw it.
That sickly blue beam of energy radiated through the air, narrowly missing his body. He knew what it was, for he had seen it so many times whenever he messed around with his own burner. It was so close he could even hear the hiss of pure mana reacting with the air. When he got close enough to the body, his fears came true. The guard had his chest pierced through by a burner. That gurgling sound was him choking on his own blood.
They were under attack.
Marc gripped onto his burner and surveyed his surroundings, unable to see the enemy. The only thing he saw was the shot fired, but he couldn’t determine the direction. Almost immediately, he heard a yell come from another side of the refinery. He turned only to see more shots similar to the ones that had just been fired.
We’re surrounded.
Marc’s body made the decision before his mind could, and he ran. He looked around to see which buildings were available to him. The barracks, the repair shop and the mess hall were too far. He couldn’t make it to those places in time, but the refinery was close enough. Feeling like death from magore exposure was a preferable situation to actually being dead. As he ran, he could hear and see the shots firing from all around him. He even saw some of his fellow guards firing back or running to take cover like himself, but many of them were shot down in the process.
Wasn’t this the combat that he wanted? The thrill of battle, of knowing that your life was on the line? If that was true, then why the hell couldn’t he stop himself from running? He needed cover to fight back. That was it. He just needed to be in a better position to fight back against the enemy who threatened the will of Arlin, even if he had no clue who was actually doing the threatening. So he ran to the refinery, his legs and his lungs on fire. He took occasional glances to his sides to see the combat and was disheartened. The guard fell without knowing who or where their enemy was. As he got closer, only a short distance from the door to the large refinery, did he see some of the enemy. They were wearing the outfits of the guard, wielding their weapons. Yet from their hands and surrounding their, he saw magic. Fire, water and stone flew through the air and at the guard in concert with the burner fire.
Why am I not happy?
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Marc wanted to be happy, to at least know that he was going to see that battle he desired. His fear of death was overpowering that desire as he opened and loudly shut the door. Inside, the penal laborers were in a panic. Their grime covered bodies, wearing only with the least amount of protection to keep them alive, were all shaken by the events.
“What’s going on outside?” one of them said, hoping to learn about the commotion.
Was this their doing?
It had to be their doing. Who else would call for a raid on a refinery? The repugnant criminals, all of them deserving of their delayed deaths. As one of them got close to Marc, he hit him on the head with the side of his burner, smacking him to the ground. Their withered bodies were unprepared for any physical retaliations.
“All of you stay the fuck back! We’re under attack, and I’m going to find out which one of you fucked us over!” Marc yelled, trying to keep his voice loud enough to be heard over the violent commotion outside. As he took a moment to survey their faces, he realized that they were not looking directly at him, but beside him.
Marc turned to his side to find an igniter, inches away from his face pointed directly at him, held by a small young man with scruffy brown hair and hazel eyes.
“I’m the one who fucked you over.”
Marc’s last thought before the igniter melted the top half of his skull was about how he really wished he had learned whatever the fuck repugnant actually meant.
***
As the guard’s body toppled down to the floor, I stood up from the spot and let out a deep breath. The penal laborers stood around me, confused and panicking at the disappearance of a guard’s head and my sudden appearance out of thin air. Getting inside with my invisibility was easier than expected, and had allowed me to set myself up to get the guards who tried to run inside.
“Don’t worry, I’m not here to kill you. Try and gather as many penal laborers together, and I’ll come back to you once this is all over.” I said, my words slightly contrasted by the fact that I was winding up my igniter for another shot. As if on queue, a guard on the other side of the refinery blasts through a door and into the armory. As the trigger reappeared at the bottom, signaling that I was ready to fire, I lined up a shot and pierced him right through the chest. He stumbled to the ground, his face filled with confusion. “Hey, you should probably leave this building and go to the forest or something. When you go outside, make sure to have your hands behind your head. That way, my people will know not to shoot you.”
They nodded and quickly ran outside with their hands firmly placed on their neck. I smiled awkwardly as they passed me, clearly terrified.
I probably look like a villain right now, don’t I?
I shook my head, attempting to get the thought off of my mind and focus back on the actual mission. Judging from the sounds outside and the general panic of the guards, it was going well. I took a moment to survey my surroundings, checking if there were any guards hiding in ambush. The building itself was unlike anything I had ever seen before. Towering and incomprehensible machinery that was intended to refine and perfect the raw material that I mined for years. All of them were connected by long tables, where the material was passed from step to step in the refinement process.. It was also surprisingly dark, only being lit by lanterns strewn about the place and with occasional cracks to let in sunlight. The people here presumably wanted to stay as far away from the magore as possible so they didn’t get sick, so they left it to the penal laborers to do all the work and get eaten alive by it. I’d only gotten to look at them for a short second, but their bodies were clearly falling apart.
One thing in the corner caught my eye, and I wandered over to it. It was a large container wrapped in what looked like metallic paper. I grabbed the edge to lift it up to find a massive brick of refined magore. It’s about the length and width of my chest, and its height reached around the middle of my shin.
So they refine it into large bits and then break it down into smaller pieces?
I turned back my attention to the rest of the room, my igniter wound up and ready to fire at a moment's notice. The sound of burner fire and yells was still surrounding the building, but none of them sounded familiar. I decided that it was a good moment, so I slowly walked outside. A few of my comrades seemed to almost point a burner at me before recognizing who I was. The sounds of combat were becoming less and less frequent as time went on and were moving further back into the camp.
Over the hills of the camp and out of the woods came my main group who I had asked to stay near the refinery. Alex, Ruby, Mell and Elm all ran over to me, burners or magic in hand.
“Looks like it went pretty fast. Ambush go well?”
“Everything’s good on our side. Seems the only fighting is near that other warehouse, but Elina’s confident she can get all of the people hiding in buildings. Anything go wrong on your end?” Elm asked, searching my body for injury. I shook my head, and he turned his attention back to the other side of the location. In a way, the structure of the refinery reminded me a lot of the camps. One central workstation, bunks, supply rooms and a cafeteria. The lack of a weapon room showed the difference in security.
But what about that one building?
“You mentioned a warehouse? What’s with that one?”
Elm and Alex both shrugged. Mell and Ruby appeared to be casually talking while we discussed the situation.
“I don’t know what it is, but it’s something. Good number of them seem to be hiding in there. When Elina ran off to fight, she said she could deal with them. They’ve been returning fire a bit, but they’re staying put” Alex walked over a bit around the refinery to peer at the building. “Kinda looks like a stable? Do they usually keep strigs in places like this?”
Elm shook his head in response.
“Not usually. It wouldn’t be…” Elm paused as he also took time to look at the warehouse. I joined in to look at the building. It was a large metal building, although not the same size as the refinery. It notably has a large opening at the front of it, similar to a stable would have for horses. It was slightly hard to see inside from this distance, but I could make out faint shapes inside which were most likely the guard who had decided to hole up in there.
“Oh fuck.” Elm seemed to have a pertinent revelation as he stared at the warehouse.
“What?”
I stood still, igniter in hand, as I felt the dirt start to shake beneath my feet. A soft rumble spread across the landscape and warned everyone around the outpost that something was about to happen. The inside of the dark warehouse began to shift, as a large object started to move forward. A giant piece of metal, shaped with jagged edges all around shifted forward from the warehouse on its own. It was moving, without anything pulling or pushing it.
“Elm, is that-”
Alex stopped in the middle of the words as Elm nodded his head. It was in the distance, but it appeared to be a sight that they were both very familiar with.
“They’ve got an Iron Chariot.”