The air was different.

Vaeliyan felt it as soon as the sim shifted, the new battlefield slamming into place like a door closing on a scream. The heat of the copper sky dimmed, replaced by the cold glint of steel under clouded starlight. The killing floor was gone. The waves of human soldiers vanished, swept aside as though erased.

In their place stood a single silhouette.

A Mech-Knight.

It loomed thirty feet tall, plated in scarred Imperial alloy, every line of it carved with the brutal elegance of a war machine meant to erase cities. Its frame was shaped like a giant suit of armor, broad-shouldered and thick through the limbs, built less for speed than unstoppable momentum. The cockpit sat embedded in its chest like a heart of green glass, a spherical pod of reinforced 360° glass designed to endure artillery fire. Inside, the pilot sat cradled in a harness of skeletal support struts, visible but untouchable, watching the battlefield through panoramic screens and layered sensor overlays.

Its head was low and rounded, built into the upper torso rather than standing atop a neck. A smooth armored faceplate covered the front, featureless except for a recessed visor-slit of reinforced crystal and clusters of green targeting lenses that pulsed like buried stars. It was not a face. It was the suggestion of one, a cold mask meant to unsettle. Its shoulders carried twin missile batteries, its left arm a rotating flechette turret, its right a heavy impact fist designed to shatter fortress walls. Hydraulic pistons as wide as tree trunks lined its joints, shuddering with each motion. Every step drove cracks through the earth, scattering debris as if the ground itself wanted to recoil from it.

It did not breathe. It did not flinch. It simply was, a fortress walking on two legs, an apex weapon meant to grind wars into silence.

Pressure rolled across the battlefield like a tightening storm, and it kept walking.

Vaeliyan's visor marked its approach, flashing warnings, heat signatures crawling across his vision like slow red comets. His field pushed against it instinctively, testing, probing for cracks, and found nothing. The pressure slid off its armored hull like water off stone. He smiled under his helmet, sharp and eager. "Ah," he murmured. "So, this is what the Princedoms have to offer."

Then it struck.

The heavy warriors from Barcus's side charged first, huge figures wrapped in crude plating and raw muscle, roaring like living siege rams. Their mass slammed into the Mech with bone-snapping force, and broke. The Mech barely shifted. A single arm swept through them like a threshing blade, cleaving bodies from the waist up in clean, casual arcs. Blood misted across the steel and steamed. Limbs fell like broken tools. The shock of their impacts echoed through the ruins like drums. They were gone in seconds.

Barcus's spinning discs screeched through the air, carving molten lines into the Mech's legs. Sparks fountained off, bright and harmless, like rain striking stone. The Mech simply stepped forward, driving its armored fist down through another warrior and grinding him into the stone with the casual weight of falling architecture.

Vaeliyan moved.

Bastard and Styll flanked him, black-scaled shapes flickering through the dust, their silver eyes burning cold as they wove between the Mech's sweeping strikes. Styll darted beneath its knees, claws flashing, while Bastard leapt along its back and fired lightning point-blank into the armored plating. The crackling blast scorched black lines across the Mech's surface, and did nothing. The machine didn't even react. It kept moving, relentless, its turret arm rattling bursts of flechettes at Bastard as he darted away in blur-streaks of static and sparks. The rounds punched stone into dust where they struck, each shot heavy enough to crater concrete.

Vaeliyan hit the field like a storm front. His pressure spiked in jagged bursts, detonating under his feet and hurling him sideways through the air. He moved in sharp, unpredictable arcs, ricocheting between shattered pillars and broken walls, changing direction midair in erratic lunges. Each burst cracked the air like thunder. The Mech tracked him with perfect mechanical precision, and still couldn't keep up. Its turrets spun to follow, flechettes ripping through where he had been a heartbeat ago, always a fraction too slow. It saw him as a threat. It simply could not catch him.

Vaeliyan slammed into the leg like a thrown blade. The spike-mods punched into the plating and held, and he climbed, pressure knifing off him in pulsed shockwaves as he rose. The Mech's sensors burned green, locked on him, head twisting to follow his ascent. It lashed out, fist sweeping through the space he had been, but he had already launched himself away in another burst of concussive air, spinning above its shoulder like shrapnel given thought.

Below, Barcus slammed his hand to the cracked glass of its cockpit. Purple fog jetted from his mouth grille and poured through the fractured sphere. The pilot inside seized, convulsed, and then went still. For one second, the Mech froze.

Then it shut down.

The glow in its sensors cut out. Its servos locked.

Barcus smiled faintly.

The Mech detonated.

The image of the blast unfolded in front of Vaeliyan like a memory that wasn't his. The crater tore through the stone, vaporizing the pilot, the cockpit, and half of Barcus's converted vanguard in a single eruption of white heat. Armor shards screamed outward like shrapnel, severing limbs and heads in a clean wave of ruin. Barcus was flung away injured but alive.

Vaeliyan felt nothing from it. No shockwave. No heat. It was like watching someone else's ghost move. The sim didn't even tremble. Only the visual, sterile and perfect, played on around him like theater.

A warning tone keened through the comms, sharp and cold.

Vaeliyan's grin sharpened. "Ah. So, they self-destruct on breach. A living bomb. It recognized the pilot was compromised."

He kicked free of the plating and dropped to the fractured ground, landing in a crouch as Bastard and Styll regrouped at his flanks. The Mech's head turned in perfect mechanical precision, flechette turret spinning up with a rising whine.

"Alright," Vaeliyan muttered. "So not like Barcus, then. Don't try to take the pilot."

His visor flared with targeting paths, painting glowing arcs through the ruined air.

"Just kill them. Good. That was my only real option anyway."

The Mech's head jerked as Vaeliyan slammed onto its shoulder, his truncheons biting deep into the scarred plating, the spike mods screeching sparks and gouging shallow trenches as they caught. Pressure coiled around him like a living storm, condensing with every heartbeat. He didn't hesitate. He drove one truncheon into the armored faceplate, again and again, each blow landing like a piledriver, bending the metal inward until spiderweb cracks splintered across the reinforced glass of the cockpit. The Mech reeled with the impacts, a fortress flinching for the first time.

The pilot inside whipped his head toward Vaeliyan, eyes wide behind his visor, hands flailing at the controls. The glass bowed, screamed, and then ruptured. Vaeliyan let go of everything. Pressure collapsed inward from every direction, a silent implosion. The pilot's body crushed flat in an instant, bones folding like wet paper. Blood burst from him in a red fog, misting across the shattered interior as the Mech sagged beneath Vaeliyan's boots, hydraulics hissing in death.

The body hit the ground seconds later, headless and hollow, sparks coughing from its chest. The towering frame pitched forward with a groan and slammed down, shaking the ground like a falling tower.

Vaeliyan vaulted free before it hit, already in motion, pressure spikes blasting from his feet and shoulders in staggered bursts that flung him through the drifting smoke. His vision locked on three new Mechs spawning ahead, massive silhouettes dragging themselves up from the fractured stone. Their missile pods rotated as their limbs unfolded like siege towers taking their first steps. Farther off, Barcus still fought, buried in the storm, his remaining vanguard collapsing around him. Flechette fire ripped through his surviving warriors while his spinning blade rings slashed shallow molten scars into armor that simply would not break. He didn't look at Vaeliyan. Vaeliyan didn't look at him. They were separate storms sharing the same killing field.

Barcus was still ahead of him in kills. That wouldn't last.

The three new Mechs cut across Vaeliyan's path in perfect formation, their heavy strides pounding shockwaves into the stone. Bastard surged past his feet, silver eyes flashing. Styll darted in from the side, reckless and fast, her body coiling with wild energy, and then she was gone. A shoulder-mounted rocket struck her full in the face. There was no time to scream. One heartbeat she was there, the next she was just drifting metal and meat scattering across the stone.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

Vaeliyan barely flinched. Unfortunate, but expected. She'd always been the most reckless.

Bastard snarled wordlessly in his mind, a sharp crackle of anger, but underneath it was fear, old and sharp as glass. He wasn't built for this. His claws scored the plating and sparked off harmlessly. His lightning skittered across armor without ever touching the pilots inside. Every second brought back the weight of that old alley he'd crawled through as a kitten, starving and broken, the whole world towering over him like it meant to crush him out of existence. The smell of oil and blood here was the same. The ground shook the same way when giants passed too close. He felt like that again. Small. Forgotten. Powerless. The old terror burned behind his eyes like it had never left.

Vaeliyan felt it through the bond, knew what it was, but didn't waste time on him, not now. Later he would comfort the bond, reassure him that this didn't matter, that he was not that small thing anymore. But not now. Bastard could survive. He couldn't win.

Vaeliyan blurred through the fireline, ricocheting off his own pressure bursts, dragging Mech fire across each other. Turrets roared after him, then tore into their own allies when he cut away at the last possible second. Flechettes screamed through the air like razors, gouging armor when they missed him and slammed into the other machines. The hits didn't do much, these things were too heavily plated, but they staggered when struck, their turrets slowing, taking precious seconds to spin up again. He marked the delay instantly. A weakness.

"This would be easier if I were Warden," he thought, silent and cold as he spiraled between them. "I could just step inside and end them."

But he wasn't. So, he would break them instead.

He slammed onto the central Mech, truncheons screeching sparks across the cockpit glass. Cracks webbed across the surface as his pressure compacted around him, tighter and tighter, until the glass burst like a bubble. The pilot twitched once before the invisible weight crushed him flat, bones snapping like twigs. Vaeliyan ripped the corpse free and dropped it to the floor like trash.

Then he sat in the cockpit.

He was out again a second later, launching himself skyward as the Mech's core alarms howled. The self-destruct armed with a shriek. Vaeliyan hit full speed instantly, every ounce of stored force detonating behind him in a single jet burst. The blast flung him across the ruined courtyard as the central Mech went white.

The detonation ripped it apart. The shockwave annihilated the central Mech, chewing it into shrapnel that hammered the other two from both sides. Their armor cracked. Their cores ruptured. All three Mechs erupted in a chain of blinding white fire, torn apart in perfect symmetry. The blast wave carved a crater through the courtyard, molten stone spraying outward as their wreckage burned.

Vaeliyan rolled through the blast wake, skidding to his feet. The air sizzled from the heat. The three Mechs were gone, nothing left but twisted, burning fragments scattered across the fractured ground.

"That should clutch this," he thought, teeth bared.

He looked to Barcus.

The last of his soldiers were gone. The air around him was empty, silent. And from the haze, the streaks of missile contrails were already cutting toward him.

"Are we done now?" Vaeliyan called out, his voice steady but faintly frayed at the edges, his hands still twitching from the echoes of combat. The words came out more like an exhale than a demand, exhaustion leaking through the cracks.

"Yes," Ruby's voice chimed back, light and cheerful. "That's it. You've beaten the former Lord Bacchus, so I suppose… all hail Lord Vaeliyan. Congratulations on the victory. I'm so very proud of you."

Her tone was bright and musical, almost sing-song, but it barely touched him. The tension of the fight still lingered in his muscles like coiled wire, straining against themselves. He rolled his shoulders slowly, feeling the ache ripple through him as he loosened his grip on his truncheons, the metal still faintly vibrating from how tightly he had held them. The rhythm of battle was only just beginning to bleed from his bones. His pulse still came too fast, as if part of him hadn't realized the fighting was over. Even his thoughts were struggling to slow down, still caught in that sharp, animal focus where nothing existed but movement and survival.

There was a pause. Then Ruby added, "And just hold on for a moment. We do have one more wave, if you would like to test yourself."

Vaeliyan tilted his head slightly, weary but curious, his expression unreadable. He didn't lift his eyes from the middle distance. "Is there any prize for doing so?"

Silence stretched for several long seconds, thick and deliberate, as if the system was considering how to answer him. He stood motionless, the quiet pressing around him, the emptiness after violence somehow louder than the battle had been.

Finally, Ruby replied, her tone quieter now, stripped of its usual lilt. "No, not really. You're already receiving all the accommodations we can provide for this success. It's mostly just a test for us. Data collection. Nothing more."

Vaeliyan gave a short laugh, tired and low, almost a sigh. It sounded like something breaking loose inside him. "Honestly, Ruby," he said, "I'm tired. I've done so much today, and I don't really want to be in here anymore. This was fun, but we have our first class with High Imperator Kasala tomorrow and… well, we've taken every seat in his class. It's going to be fun to see his reaction when he realizes he's getting an entirely new class he's never met before. He'll have to take all new apprentices because they're the only ones left. It's going to be good. I'm excited for this."

Ruby hummed softly, thoughtful now, like she was smiling behind her words. "Oh, that does actually sound rather exciting. We will get you out of there as soon as we can. Darling, did you want to speak to Barcus at all?"

Vaeliyan turned. Barcus stood a short distance away, whole again, perfectly still. He looked untouched, as though none of what had just happened had mattered at all. He simply existed, quiet and steady, like a statue that had chosen to breathe. They locked gazes for a long moment, two warriors with nothing left to prove to each other. There was no triumph in either of them, only recognition, the kind that needed no words.

Vaeliyan nodded once, slow and deliberate, the smallest gesture but carrying the weight of finality.

Barcus nodded back, silent and steady, the faintest flicker of respect crossing his face. It was gone as quickly as it came.

"No," Vaeliyan said quietly. "I don't need to. I just want to get out of here."

"All right," said another voice, calm and even, cutting through the quiet. "Ending simulation."

There was no sound as the world peeled away from him like a discarded skin. One blink and it was simply gone, and the silence swallowed even the thought of what had been here.

Vaeliyan stepped forward as the world of the sim melted away, the blank nothing peeling off his skin like water running off steel. The silence of the void cracked, and from the collapsing haze rose the sound of metal striking metal, pure, sharp, eternal. The tension in his limbs, wound taut from hours of relentless slaughter, slowly uncoiled as the weight of battle bled from him. He stood, still breathing like a war drum, watching as the world fell apart into nothing.

Steel stood before him.

Her voice rang like tempered iron drawn from the forge, rich with pride and power. "You've done it. Once again, I am so proud of you. Do you know what you have done?"

Vaeliyan blinked, still half-braced for war, then let his arms fall to his sides as though they were suddenly too heavy to lift. "Honestly… not really. I've defeated some tests."

"Warren." Her perfect face tilted, catching the unseen light as if her skin were polished chrome, seamless and immaculate. "You just set yourself as the benchmark against the man who is currently the strongest High Imperator the Green Zone possesses. Barcus is the Cosmic Breaker of the Green Zone. And you have stepped above him. You do not understand what this means yet, but it is an implication of what you are to become."

Vaeliyan's lips twitched into something between a grin and a grimace. "All right. I really don't know what that means exactly, but I'm guessing it's good… I've seen Imujin clap and the world evaporated in a sim. So if a Cosmic Breaker is above a World Breaker and a World Breaker is above the Continent Breakers, then… I'm gonna be above that. That's exciting." He gave a small laugh, breathless and unsteady, the sound cracking halfway through. "I'm really, really excited for that. It's so good to see you. Is there anything I should know about the next boon? Or the next task that I should complete?"

"Warren. My child." Her voice softened, still edged in steel, but warm in its weight. "This boon is not a boon of power. It is a boon of heart. Something that I know you deserve. For one day, you will exist as two. Vaeliyan will remain here in the Citadel, while Warren will be carried back to Mara. Your mind and body will be split, each moving as if whole, though they will be bound. At the end of the day, Warren will return to you, and you will be whole again."

Vaeliyan's breath caught, his throat tightening, and then he dropped to his knees, truncheons clattering from his hands, and for the first time in longer than he could remember, he wept. His shoulders shook as he forced the words out. "Wait… are you telling me that I can be both here… and with Wren, and our child?"

Golden tears rolled from Steel's eyes, bright enough to leave molten trails down her perfect face. "Yes, my child. You will get to see your child for the first time in person. As the true you. But know this: there is a cost. The Warren that walks Mara will be only a servant of your soul, a vessel to carry you there. He will not hold your full power. You will not have access to Vaeliyan's passive Skills while you are split. This is the only way this can be done."

Her voice gentled, sorrow woven beneath the steel, the weight of something ancient humming behind her tone. "I hope this boon is something you find worthy. It took more than you would understand, but it does not grant you any actual power. It will only grant you solace. I hope it is enough… for what is to come. As for your next task, it is not time for me to grant it to you. I have other things I must attend to before I can grant you the next stage, the next boon. And this boon took more than you would expect."

She hesitated then, the faintest flicker of grief behind her flawless mask, like a crack in tempered steel. "Warren… I can offer you something small, if you wish. Something tangible. It will not come from me. I will need to ask Umdar, to provide the power to balance this."

Vaeliyan stared up at her, eyes wet, breath ragged, the enormity of what she was offering slowly sinking in like molten metal cooling around his ribs. She was not trying to fix him. She was trying to give him something to carry forward with, something real.

He bowed his head. "Then… if you wish to give it, I will accept. I won't ask for anything. I trust you."

Steel tilted her head, patient, as though she could wait for centuries if she had to. "If there is something else, something not of the heart but of the hand, say it. Ask, and I will see what he will grant."

Vaeliyan drew in a slow breath, feeling the weight of the moment settle into him like cooled iron. "Then… something small. Anything. Whatever you think would help. I trust you."

Steel smiled, faintly, as if proud, her molten tears fading back into her skin until she was flawless once more. "Then I will see what can be done."

And for just an instant, the sound of the forge returned, the echo of a hammer striking deep within her voice, like the beating heart of a star, and he felt the promise of her will wrap around him like a tempered blade.

Then the world faded.

Next chapter will be updated first on this website. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.