Chapter 51

Underbough stood under the colossal shadow of the Warwolf as it heaved, its mechanisms groaning and clanking with a force that reverberated through the ground. The gigantic device, hundreds of yards long, seemed to defy the very laws of nature as it whipped a huge boulder into the air, sending it hurtling towards Cincinnati. The air was filled with the whine of strained metal, the creak of wood under unimaginable stress, and the deep, resonant thud as the boulder was released.

The ground trembled with each movement of the Warwolf, the sheer power of the siege engine palpable. Dust and loose dirt were kicked up by the force, creating a haze that clung to the air. Underbough paced back and forth, his Griid-suit chewing the ground beneath him. He muttered to himself, a grim satisfaction coloring his words, "That'll show those bastards. We'll make the city into a pancake before we go in there."

Nearby, Davin Dawnshield, known as the Buffalo Shield, pricked his head up, his sensitive suit helm detecting Underbough's voice. "What'd you say?" he called out.

Underbough waved him away dismissively. "Nothing. I was talking to myself."

Dawnshield grumbled, "It's fucking boring out here. There are caravans back in Buffalo waiting to pay me to scoot 'em around, and I'm stuck here. How long's this gonna last?"

Underbough's voice took on a slightly patronizing tone. "Fifty thousand men have gone to Oxford to root out the scraps of the Cincy army that are holed up there. The Emperor knows you have pressing needs elsewhere; he just needs a little time to secure our position, and then you can go—until we need you next."

Dawnshield looked up at the impossible structure of the Warwolf, its long trebuchet arm resetting, stretching into the distance. "With this thing, that probably won't take long. The Emperor will want us back for assaulting the tower. That's all that will be left standing soon, just the tower, in a field of smoking rubble."

Underbough grinned inside his helm, the sinister expression hidden from view. "And that will show the rest of the world what happens to traitors. We'll hang Brightforge from his tower."

Dawnshield shifted uncomfortably, his posture betraying his unease. Underbough knew that Buffalo considered itself more than powerful enough to break ties with the Empire. Only its proximity to Boston and the surrounding sea of loyal cities had kept it as a vassal. Dawnshield’s discomfort was a reminder of the delicate balance of power, and Underbough relished the thought of tightening the Emperor's grip on them all.

The Warwolf's mechanisms groaned again as it prepared for another shot, the immense arm creaking as it was wound back. The tension in the air was almost palpable, the anticipation of the next devastating impact hanging over them like a dark cloud. Underbough's thoughts were consumed with the vision of Cincinnati reduced to rubble, a testament to the Empire's might and a warning to all who dared to defy it.

Dawnshield cocked his helm suddenly, his voice sharp with alertness. "What's that?"

Underbough paused, listening intently. He heard it too—the unmistakable hum of a Footfield approaching. "A Griidlord is coming," he said, glancing at Dawnshield. "Maybe someone to relieve you so you can get back to ferrying merchants around."

Dawnshield grumbled, "Man, cut that out. That's how we make our dynasties. You do the same. Orbs are nice, but it's trade that will set my family up, make nobles out of 'em for generations."

Underbough snorted, then turned to greet the newcomer. The hum of the Footfield grew louder, a pulsing distortion in the air. Over a rise, the speeding form appeared, beaming towards them with incredible speed. Underbough cursed under his breath. "That fucking idiot should have cut his field sooner. He's too close to the Warwolf. Does that fool know what he's doing?"

The speeding form pulsed towards them, a blur of motion and energy. Underbough and Dawnshield instinctively moved away, wary of being caught in the wake of the physics-distorting field. The form slowed rapidly, coming to a jarring stop at the base of one of the gargantuan legs of the Warwolf. The impact caused the machine to pulse, ripple, and groan, cracks branching through the leg, but it continued to function.

Underbough bared down on the Griidlord, his anger mounting. He was ready to snarl at the newcomer for his recklessness. But as he got closer, his words caught in his throat, and he stopped cold in his tracks.

The Griidlord's suit was battered and scorched, bearing the marks of numerous battles. Despite the damage, the figure exuded an aura of formidable power and authority. The visor of the suit lifted, revealing a face that Underbough recognized instantly—Haldor Ironfist, the Emperor's most trusted and feared enforcer.

"Haldor," Underbough managed to say, his voice a mix of surprise and respect. "We weren't expecting you."

Haldor's gaze swept over the Warwolf, then fixed on Underbough with a steely intensity. "The Emperor sent me to ensure this siege proceeds without delay. It appears I arrived just in time to correct some... oversights."

Dawnshield stepped forward, his tone deferential. "We are honored by your presence, Haldor. The Warwolf is almost ready to bring down Cincinnati's defenses."

Haldor nodded curtly. "Good. But we can't afford any more mistakes. Underbough, ensure your men are prepared for the final assault. Dawnshield, your expertise in trade may soon become crucial once we've secured the city."

Underbough and Dawnshield exchanged glances, understanding the gravity of Haldor's words. The stakes had just been raised, and they both knew that failure was not an option.

With a final look at the Warwolf, Haldor turned back to them. "We bring down that tower, and we show the world the might of the Empire."

As the Griidlord's words echoed in the air, Underbough and Dawnshield felt a renewed sense of urgency. The siege of Cincinnati was about to enter its most critical phase, and they would need every bit of their skill and resolve to see it through.

"You," Underbough breathed, his voice filled with shock and fear.

Before him stood Thorn Jaxwulf, his helmet in his hand, his blond-bearded face stirred by the wind. His teeth were bared in a grin of hunger and happiness, his eyes glinting with fevered madness. Underbough's panic grew.

"What are you doing here? You have no stake in this!" he shouted, his voice tinged with desperation.

Jaxwulf calmly settled his helmet back on his head, the visor snapping shut with a click. "I have a stake in anything that might be cause for battle," he replied, his voice a deep, unsettling rumble.

Underbough's voice shook. "You're mad if you've come here to do battle."

Jaxwulf's laugh was a low, menacing growl. "I'm always mad."

Underbough tried to reason with him, hoping to buy time. "For what? Why would you come? You have no chance to succeed here. Dawnshield is a Shield—he alone can hold you down. I'm an Axe like you. You have no advantage."

Jaxwulf hefted his glowing axe, the weapon crackling with energy. "No one is an Axe like me, Underbough, let alone you. And you should know by now, I always have the advantage."

Underbough and Dawnshield circled him warily, positioning themselves between Jaxwulf and the legs of the Warwolf. The tension in the air was palpable, a mix of fear and anticipation.

"What could possibly bring you here? Why would you interfere?" Underbough demanded, his voice growing steadier with anger.

Jaxwulf threw his head back and bellowed laughter to the sky, the picture of madness and blood hunger. "What could bring me here? In truth, a little bird came to my ear and told me I could change the course of history by chopping this monstrosity down. But in my heart, it's been too long since I've felt a Griid-suit melt under my axe. That's really cause enough."

Underbough's grip tightened on his weapon, his mind racing. He glanced at Dawnshield, who nodded, ready to fight. They had to protect the Warwolf, the key to their siege of Cincinnati.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

"Enough talk," Underbough snarled. "You're not leaving here alive, Jaxwulf."

Jaxwulf's grin widened behind his visor. "Let's see if you can back those words up, Underbough."

Dawnshield's voice was a growl, his frustration barely contained. "You're a fool, Jaxwulf. You'll bring the wrath of the Empire down on Pittsburgh."

Thorn Jaxwulf's laughter was a chilling sound, echoing across the battlefield. "Only if either of you live to tell of my being here," he replied, his eyes gleaming with fevered madness behind his visor.

The tension between them was a tangible force, almost electric in its intensity. Underbough and Dawnshield shared a quick glance, a silent agreement passing between them. They would need to work together, combining their strengths to take down this formidable foe.

Underbough moved first, his Griid-suit's powerful servos whining as he lunged forward with his glowing axe. The weapon hummed with energy, a blur of deadly light as it arced towards Jaxwulf. Thorn parried the blow with a swift movement, his own axe meeting Underbough's with a clash that sent sparks flying.

Dawnshield was right behind him, his massive shield raised. The intricate mechanisms within the shield shimmered, a field of protective energy spreading out from its surface. He bashed forward with all his might, aiming to knock Jaxwulf off balance. Thorn dodged nimbly, his movements almost graceful despite the bulk of his suit.

"You think you can stop me?" Jaxwulf taunted, his voice full of dark amusement. "I am Thorn Jaxwulf, the blood-mad butcher!"

Underbough gritted his teeth, focusing all his energy on the battle. "We will stop you, for the Empire!"

Dawnshield's voice was a steady growl. "For our families, for our future!"

The three Griidlords clashed again, their suits enhancing their strength and speed to superhuman levels. The ground beneath them shook with the force of their movements, the impact of their blows resonating through the air like thunder. Each strike, each parry, was a test of skill and strength, a battle of wills as much as weapons.

Underbough swung his axe in a wide arc, aiming for Jaxwulf's side. Thorn deflected the blow, the clang of metal on metal ringing out. Dawnshield took the opportunity to thrust forward with his shield, the energy field crackling as it connected with Jaxwulf's chest. The impact sent Thorn stumbling back a few steps, but he recovered quickly.

"Is that all you've got?" Jaxwulf jeered, his voice dripping with disdain.

Underbough and Dawnshield pressed their advantage, coordinating their attacks with practiced precision. Underbough's axe was a blur of light, striking with relentless fury. Dawnshield's shield was a wall of impenetrable energy, every bash and thrust calculated to disorient and overwhelm.

For a moment, it seemed as if they might succeed. Jaxwulf was driven back, his movements becoming more defensive as he struggled to fend off their combined assault. Underbough's heart pounded with a mix of adrenaline and hope. They could do this. They could take him down.

But Jaxwulf was not to be underestimated. With a roar of defiance, he swung his axe in a brutal counterattack, the weapon glowing with an intense, otherworldly light. The blow connected with Underbough's shoulder, sending him sprawling to the ground. Pain shot through him, but he forced himself to his feet, refusing to give up.

Dawnshield stepped in, his shield raised to block Jaxwulf's follow-up strike. The two Griidlords clashed again, their weapons locked in a deadly embrace. Sparks flew from the point of contact, the air around them crackling with energy.

Underbough took a moment to catch his breath, his eyes never leaving the battle. Dawnshield was holding his own, his shield absorbing the worst of Jaxwulf's attacks. But Thorn's relentless assault was wearing him down, each strike a hammer blow against his defenses.

Summoning all his strength, Underbough charged back into the fray, his axe swinging with renewed vigor. He aimed for Jaxwulf's exposed flank, hoping to catch him off guard. Thorn twisted at the last moment, the blow glancing off his armor but still managing to push him back.

"You're finished, Jaxwulf!" Underbough shouted, his voice echoing across the battlefield.

But Jaxwulf only laughed, a dark, manic sound. "You think so? Let's see about that."

With a surge of power, Jaxwulf's movements became a blur of speed and violence. He twisted and spun, his axe a whirlwind of destruction. Underbough and Dawnshield found themselves on the defensive, struggling to keep up with the ferocity of his attacks.

Dawnshield's shield took the brunt of it, the energy field flickering under the relentless onslaught. Underbough tried to find an opening, but Jaxwulf's attacks were too fast, too unpredictable.

Then, in a moment that seemed to stretch into eternity, Jaxwulf's axe found its mark. With a terrifying precision, the weapon cleaved through Dawnshield's defenses, striking his neck with a sickening crunch. Time seemed to freeze as Dawnshield's head was severed from his shoulders, his body crumpling to the ground in a spray of blood and sparks.

Underbough stared in horror, his mind struggling to process what had just happened. Dawnshield lay dead at his feet. The reality of it hit him like a physical blow, driving the breath from his lungs.

Jaxwulf's laughter echoed in his ears, a mocking, triumphant sound. "One down. Now it's your turn, Underbough."

Rage surged through Underbough, a tidal wave of emotions threatening to overwhelm him. But he forced himself to focus, his grip tightening on his axe. He would not let Dawnshield's death be in vain. He would fight, to the very last breath.

With a roar of fury, Underbough charged at Jaxwulf, his axe raised high. The two Griidlords clashed once more, the battle taking on a new, desperate intensity. Underbough fought with everything he had, every strike fueled by his anger and sorrow.

Underbough's heart pounded in his chest as he faced Jaxwulf, the horrific scene of Dawnshield’s death replaying in his mind. He couldn’t believe what he had witnessed—an Axe defeating a Shield, like fire overcoming water. It defied everything he knew, everything he had been trained to believe. But there was no time for disbelief now. He had to protect the Warwolf, the key to their siege, and avenge his fallen comrade.

With a battle cry, Underbough swung his glowing axe, the weapon arcing towards Jaxwulf with deadly intent. Jaxwulf parried effortlessly, his own axe a blur of motion. The impact of their weapons sent shockwaves through the ground, but Jaxwulf didn’t falter. Instead, he pressed his advantage, his attacks coming faster and harder.

Underbough struggled to keep up, his muscles burning with effort. He aimed for Jaxwulf's legs, hoping to destabilize him, but Thorn danced out of reach, his movements almost graceful. He swung back, his axe a deadly blur, and Underbough barely managed to deflect it, the force of the blow jarring his arms.

"You think you can stop me, Underbough?" Jaxwulf taunted, his voice dripping with disdain. "You’re already dead, you just don’t know it yet."

Rage surged through Underbough, fueling his strikes. He swung again and again, but each blow was met with a counter, each attack turned aside. Jaxwulf was relentless, his attacks precise and merciless. Underbough’s defenses began to falter, cracks appearing in his armor and resolve.

Jaxwulf’s laughter rang out, a dark, mocking sound. "You’re nothing, Underbough. Just another obstacle for me to crush."

Underbough’s breath came in ragged gasps, his vision narrowing as exhaustion set in. He tried to summon the last of his strength, but Jaxwulf was too strong, too fast. Thorn’s axe flashed in the dim light, a blur of deadly energy, and Underbough barely managed to block it. But the force of the blow drove him to his knees, his armor groaning under the strain.

Jaxwulf stood over him, his eyes gleaming with madness and triumph. "This is where it ends, Underbough."

With a roar, Jaxwulf raised his axe high and brought it down with all his might. The weapon cleaved through the top of Underbough's head, splitting his helmet and skull with terrifying ease. The axe continued its deadly path, slicing through his entire body, armor, and flesh alike. Blood and sparks sprayed out as Underbough’s body was cleaved in half, the two halves falling to the ground with a sickening thud.

Jaxwulf stood over the remains of his foe, breathing heavily but triumphant. He looked at the Warwolf, its massive structure looming over the battlefield, and grinned. He had done it. He had shown them all what true power was.

The sky was silent, the air heavy with the aftermath of the battle. Underbough's lifeless body lay in two gruesome halves, a testament to Jaxwulf's brutal strength. Thorn Jaxwulf, the blood-mad butcher, had prevailed. The Warwolf still stood, but the defenders had been shattered, their spirits broken along with their bodies.

Thorn Jaxwulf's eyes glinted with a savage delight as he turned his attention from the fallen Underbough to the towering Warwolf. He could feel the raw power coursing through his veins, the madness of battle driving him to heights of almost divine fury. Without a moment's hesitation, he raced towards one of the Warwolf’s gargantuan legs, his glowing axe raised high.

With a mighty swing, his axe cleaved through the reinforced metal and carbon fiber like it was mere wood. The structure groaned in protest, the sound of tearing and bending metal filling the air. Sparks flew from the impact, lighting up the dark battlefield. Jaxwulf moved with the speed and power of a god, his Footfield enhancing his movements, allowing him to dart from leg to leg with incredible agility.

Each strike was precise and devastating, each swing of his axe sending shudders through the Warwolf's massive frame. The colossal machine began to tremble, its integrity failing under the relentless assault. Jaxwulf's laughter mingled with the screeching of metal, a symphony of chaos and destruction.

The Warwolf's legs, once sturdy and unyielding, started to buckle and collapse. The incredible noise of hundreds, thousands of tonnes of metal and carbon fiber beginning to give way was deafening. The structure groaned and screeched, the sound reverberating through the air like the death throes of a giant. Bolts and beams snapped, the tearing of materials echoing like thunder.

Jaxwulf stood beneath the collapsing titan, panting heavily, his chest heaving with exertion and exhilaration. He breathed in the victory, the sweet scent of destruction filling his lungs. The Warwolf, this monstrous symbol of the Empire’s might, was falling, and he had brought it down with his own hands.

As the enormous structure began its final descent, Jaxwulf activated his Footfield, the energy crackling around him. In a blur of motion, he sped away from the collapsing giant, his form a streak of light against the sky. The ground shook with the impact as the Warwolf crashed to the earth, a cacophony of screeching metal, shattering carbon fiber, and exploding mechanisms.

Jaxwulf paused a safe distance away, turning to watch as the Warwolf's remains settled into a twisted heap of rubble and debris. The dust cloud billowed up, a testament to his destructive power. He stood there for a moment, breathing deeply, savoring the chaos he had wrought. His heart pounded with the thrill of victory, the knowledge that he had changed the course of history with his actions.