The first sensation that returned to Temki was the feeling of pain. But it wasn’t so much his own; it came from all directions, from other people. Fear and rage were the strongest in the aura that saturated his mind and jolted him awake, bringing back to him his other senses.

  He heard weapon fire and shouting, tasted the ash, dust, and ozone in the air, smelled burning metal and concrete, felt the crumbled, broken debris under him, and then opened his eyes to see Angels defending a hole in the urban ground. Somehow, they were given a bastion amid destruction.

  Heavy slabs of a fallen building, just barely held in place by twisted rebar, formed a large jagged dome and a temporary fortification. Smoky sunlight found its way in from the gray sky above, through the emptied sling ship itself. Her fuselage was a battered tube with its rear half torn away, the cockpit window was blown out, and she rested at a sharp angle, held firm between two broken and partially toppled support pillars.

  “Echo team reports four survivors,” Xavier’s voice reached Temki. “Still no word from Foxtrot. They may be gone. Bravo’s holding out.”

  “There are… others?” Temki murmured and tiredly sat up.

  “Temki!” Izae exclaimed and turned to him from her position, hunkered down behind a large pile of mangled, collapsed foyer floor. “Sergeant, Temki’s awake. If he gets his mind sharp, he can help us.”

  Xavier, holding down the place from a makeshift pillbox—his rifle sticking out of a gap between two slabs of concrete—nodded, glanced at Temki, and returned to listening for updates from his headset while keeping watch. Sieger and Bryant covered the other two openings behind him, and the one other soldier that could still walk was busy digging out more ammo boxes from the ship wreckage in an attempt to keep the others stocked.

  “Running low, sir,” Sieger called out after reloading his rifle with the last magazine in his box, his ax strapped to his back. “More incoming!”

  After she fired out an arrow into the ruins beyond their protection, Izae asked, “Temki, I know you just woke up—but do you think you can use your powers to tell us how many are coming, in what direction?”

  “Y-yeah…” He rubbed his aching head and moaned, “How long have we been down here? Are we in a tower’s… basement?”

  “It fell on top of the sling as we were crashing,” Izae explained as she nocked another arrow. “Miracle any of us survived. Pilot deserved to, but… There were only seven of us. Five now. We’ve held out for three hours, but can’t get to anyone else, and we’re about out of ammo.”

  Temki looked at the two wounded soldiers on the floor, who were bleeding through their bandages and barely cognitive. He sensed almost no activity from them, and knew that they likely wouldn’t make it. He tried to shake off the horrors of war and do what he could to save those left.

  “Three coming in from the west…” he reported, concentrating with his eyes closed. “Another… twenty or so are converging from the east, about three hundred feet away. Can’t say yet how many are coming for us.”

  “Twenty?” Bryant wheezed. “We’re… not going to make it.”

  “Then we take out as many as we can, soldier,” Xavier said. After he fired a few shots, he asked in his scratchy voice, “Temki—did you see what happened to Garder? I know he didn’t crash with us.”

  “He…” Temki used his powers to clearly remember the last things he experienced before blacking out. “After the air bomb went off across the City, he was… blown out of the door. I don’t know if he’s still alive.”

  “Damn…” Sieger grunted, as Izae went quiet and briefly stared ahead blankly at her arrowhead. “If that’s how he went out, what a badass. And if I get sent to Hold today, I’ll tell him that myself.”

  “Sieger!” Bryant snapped. “He just broke providence and destroyed miles of B! Forgive me if I question his connection to humanity right now.”

  “Pah! So maybe he is a monster. But he fought for us.”

  “Ms. Finx, there are two coming from the north,” Temki told her.

  She stopped thinking about Garder and got back on task, launching stone-infused arrows at the Guardsmen taking up position behind the rubble outside, just seconds before they may have shot at her.

  “I repeat, if anyone is listening, we need immediate assistance,” Xavier spoke desperately into his headset. “If there are any Angels in the air that can hear us, we are under the ruins of the Guild West tower. We can’t hold out much longer. Priority rescue—a high-value individual is with us.”

  “You mean… me?” Temki wondered aloud, his thoughts drifting.

  “Temki, if we’re about to get overrun, you have to get out of here,” Xavier ordered. “Use the same spell you used to sneak Garder aboard and make yourself invisible to the Guard. We can’t let anything happen to you.”

  “But you need me—four more from the east!”

  Xavier fired in bursts, taking out the aggressors the moment they appeared. Then he dropped his emptied rifle and took out his sidearm.

  “I’m out,” he huffed. “Eight in the chamber, and then I switch to alchemagi. Temki, it’s not looking good for us. Get yourself out of here.”

  “N-no! The whole reason we came here in the first place was to save you. If I run away now… Wait…” He concentrated again. “Something is coming from the north, but the signatures are too small, erratic… It’s like a group of animals that vanish and reappear, wavering…”

  “It’s a mind adept kill squad,” Izae explained and turned her bow north. “They can hide themselves from our senses. If we didn’t have a mind paradigm, they’d get the jump on us. Temki—cover our flank.”

  As the adults gave a single direction their undivided attention, Temki shifted from a sole focus on detection to instead preparing to daze or mentally overwhelm anyone sneaking up from their sides.

  The elite squad of Guardsmen were as quiet physically as they were psychically. Very little sound came from the north’s piles of rubble and crushed vehicles as the enemy moved in stealthily. And unfortunately, Angel barrels already facing in that direction meant little in the end.

  A suppressed shot rang out, and the one soldier remaining who Temki didn’t know fell and evaporated into orange, his pistol dropping to the ground where he had been taking aim. Xavier, Finx, Bryant, and Sieger all returned fire with what they had left, and the sounds of ricocheting bullets and concrete being blasted apart erupted from outside.

  “That’s about it for me,” Sieger said, tossing away his rifle after it had let out a click. He pulled the ax off his back, took up a stance that made him look like a barbarian, and huffed, “Right. Close combat it is.”

  “Sieger, that thing’s broken and can’t absorb alchemagi anymore,” Izae reminded him as she reached for one of her last remaining arrows.

  “Careful, big guy,” Bryant added, still aiming down his sight. “Don’t be stupid. This time, try to—” he abruptly went quiet as a bullet passed through him, splattering his blood across the debris.

  “Bryant!” Izae shouted as he fell back and dropped his rifle.

  “Bastards!” Sieger bellowed and swung his large blade across an elite Guardsman clad in black at the north entrance, who had taken aim at Xavier next. “You think we’re scared of ya? You all had it coming!”

  “Sieger, return to cover!” Xavier ordered. “You’re in the open!”

  But he’d already gone into a blood frenzy against those attempting to breach the bulwark, slashing two more kill squad soldiers with powerful blows their light armor couldn’t withstand—even after taking two shots himself. With adrenaline and rage the only things keeping him going, Izae, Xavier, and Temki had to watch as he was suddenly riddled by a machine pistol that stopped him in his tracks. He leaned forward and his attacker took out a sword to finish him, their sights already on their next targets.

  Temki saw no way to help. The mind adept elites had the mental defenses to lessen the effectiveness of his psyche attacks, and he needed to keep his focus on the other two entrances. In the past few seconds, he had already deployed neural blasts to knock out four standard infantrymen who could have otherwise killed everyone—and now the man who had mortally wounded Sieger glanced at Temki, aware that he was the bigger threat.

  “You’re not gonna… hurt the kid…” Sieger groaned.

  With the little remaining strength he had left, the rugged Angel veteran hurled the ax at his attacker moments before he may have opened fire on Temki. With a sickening crack, it shattered the Guardsman’s spine, and he vanished into smoke before hitting the jagged ground.

  “Sieger…” Xavier murmured, and watched his oldest squad mate fall backwards and disappear behind a hill of rubble. “Damn it.”

  As Izae scrambled over to Bryant, whose breaths were short and shallow, Temki kept watch with three fingers extended. He had the innate ability to numb his emotions, but the stoicism he was experiencing despite the events of the last minute surprised him. Perhaps the war had impacted his emotions more than he realized, to the point where it no longer did.

  “Bryant, just hold on…” Izae said as she bit off some gauze from the roll in her side pack. “We’re going to get you out of—”

  Falling into shock from blood loss, he swatted away her hand before she could apply any bandages and shook his head vigorously.

  “Eyes f-forward, Iz…” he choked out. “D-don’t… risk y-yourself for me… Just another… s-soldier. I’ll b-be okay… Sieger… go on ahead?”

  Trembling, Izae nodded and replied, “I’m sorry, my friend…”

  “I’ll… h-help him f-find the way… Guy always g-gets… lost…”

  “You can rest easy, Bryant,” Xavier murmured. “You did well.”

  With that, he closed his eyes and became still like the two other wounded Angels on the ground, too weak to stay awake as their bodies clung to some thin thread despite their essence being ready to depart. Izae and Xavier only had seconds to mourn them before Temki incapacitated two more enemy soldiers that nearly got shots off.

  “Temki,” Izae spoke as she took out her alchemagi crystal knife, her voice weak, “go, now. Think of your friends—your grandmother.”

  “I think I’m right where I need to be,” he assured her and Xavier, and turned towards the east, sensing another squad approaching. “I’m okay. And I’m staying with you. I stopped being a coward some time ago.”

  Xavier fired off another precious slug into the chaos and shouted, “It’s not about being afraid—you need to survive. Tess’ plan is—”

  “Flash-bang!” Izae called out when a metal canister clanked down onto the shattered rocks leading up to the street. “Get down!”

  As he was standing in a watchful position, Temki didn’t have time to properly protect himself other than closing his eyes. The grenade went off, filling his ears with a ringing that made them momentarily useless. His mental prowess allowed him to recover his focus quickly, but when he opened his eyes again, he saw an approaching enemy knight of a different color. He was clad in heavy dark red armor, carried a large shield, and his helmet was coated in a shining crimson anti-alchemagi sealant. Taking him down using only psychic powers would be nearly impossible.

  Xavier’s shouts barely got past the tinnitus, “Temki! He’s a League of Flame vanguard! Boost me!” He raised his arm and repeated, “Boost me.”

  The moment that the mighty enemy soldier raised three fingers, Temki grabbed Xavier’s hand and let his alchemagi flow through him, and an otherwise mediocre spell was impressively amplified into a crude but hearty ice-iron-earth solid barrier that absorbed an inferno’s roaring blast.

  The attack lasted for as long as the vanguard could muster without causing an alchemagi burn, heating the bastion up to a nearly intolerable temperature and turning all but the last inch of Xavier’s protection molten. His wall lasted just slightly longer than the flamethrower did, but unlike the vanguard, he didn’t have the stamina for a second round.

  “Temki…” Xavier wheezed as his barrier melted, and tried one last time to get the kid to run. “Please… get to safety.”

  But the boy held his ground, and welled up the energy for the most powerful psychic blast he could produce, in hopes that it would get past the vanguard’s defenses. Izae, at his side, looked ready to charge with her knife. And the League of Flame soldier, standing above at the top of a rubble pile, quickly grew a fireball between his hands that would incinerate them.

  His face covered in sweat, dust, and ash, and his glasses nearly sliding off of his nose, Temki felt his heart beating hard, holding onto life.

  Suddenly, inexplicably, the vanguard exploded. A burst of light spread out from the gaps in his armor, and then the segments flew off in all directions, some of them nearly slamming into the three surviving Angels. The shield collapsed onto the ground, while the helmet got stuck in what was left of the basement ceiling. At first, everyone was speechless.

  Izae finally breathed out, “Did… did his spell just backfire, or…”

  “Any survivors down here?” called out a familiar, muffled voice from the street level. “We’re friendlies, hold your fire.”

  Xavier, Temki, and Ms. Finx watched a lightly armored Angel soldier descend the debris. He wore a helmet featuring an acrylic visor, his periscope-rifle in his arms as a shorter soldier came to his side, wearing a more petite set of armor with a gloved hand still in a spell-casting position.

  “Corus… Is that you?” Xavier said. “Who else is…”

  “Everyone,” he replied. “We’re all here. Sir, we need to get you topside. We’re already moving on, keeping forward momentum.”

  His partner raised their own visor, revealing that it was Rayna sealed inside. Even while wearing likely the smallest armor available to the Angels, she still had the appearance of a child in an oversized battle suit.

  “Are you three okay?” she asked, eyeing Temki in particular. “I’m sorry that we couldn’t get here faster… It wasn’t safe. It still isn’t.”

  Corus added, “Yeah, we have to get going. Are you all that’s left?”

  Xavier looked over his shoulder, back to where his men had been on the broken ground, and after a choke he answered, “Y-yes. We don’t know where Garder is. He fell out when he… How bad is it up there?”

  Corus exhaled sharply. “Come see for yourself.”

  The sounds of widespread fighting filled the air as everyone climbed up over the rubble and into an urban hellscape. The nearby surrounding City had been all but flattened, with the skeletons of stronger buildings overlooking the wreckage piles of those that had collapsed entirely. There was little color; the land was made up of grays, browns, and the orange of burning fires. Plumes of smoke and dust climbed upward into an ugly dark sky, where just about the combined air power of both sides were engaged in heavy combat with other interceptors or assault airships.

  “Be careful—watch for stray fire from above,” Corus cautioned over the noise. “Resistance was heavier than anticipated, even after Garder nuked the place. Like I told Rayna, if you’re worried about civies, word is there were mass evacuations beforehand. Hopefully most made it out.”

  Temki reunited with his squad, all of them also adorned in combat armor that obscured their identities—though Rhys had a more aerodynamic and lighter suit that helped with his fast movement. He gave Temki a quick wave while Norria and Lechi maintained durable forward iron-earthen floating barriers and Brim kept watch through his rifle scope. Around the group were thousands of Angels on the move, many of them firing out into the devastated Cityscape or taking cover behind rubble.

  “Is this the frontline?” Temki asked.

  Corus answered, “No, we’re just covering the rear. The forward division already swept through, but the Guard is relentless. We really kicked the hive out here. Temki, we have armor waiting for you in the mobile command fortress about a klick ahead. If we hurry, we can make it.”

  “Make it before what?” Xavier replied.

  “It crosses the canal into the next borough, which is in better shape. Tem, you look exhausted, but can you at least keep a look out for us?”

  He nodded. “I’ll try… But there are so many of our own soldiers out here, I’m not sure how much good it’ll do, trying to sense others…”

  “Just tell us if anyone’s hiding up in a blown-out building. They’re probably not a friendly. All right. Girls, let’s get back on the move.”

  “Temki, stay up here with us, it’s the safest spot,” Lechi said, three fingers out to keep the moving wall afloat inches off the ground.

  He wiped the sweat off his face and started walking between her and Norria, and without physically touching it, they resumed moving their protection ahead at a walking pace. Only moments later, the wall was pelted by gunfire from an indiscernible direction—quickly proving its worth.

  “You’re a brave kid,” Rhys told Temki. “What ya did with Garder, I mean. Place is a mess, but I don’t know if we’d be doing as well as we are so far if this part of B was intact. Gave our ships landing space, too.”

  “But… City B is ruined…” Temki lamented over the gunfire.

  “Nah,” Corus replied from behind him. “I saw it from the air when we came in. I’d say about a sixth of B was destroyed. It’ll be rebuilt.”

  Rhys spotted several approaching Guardsmen that Brim wouldn’t be able to take aim at in time, maybe separated from their platoon. The trio noticed them right back, seemed momentarily surprised that the they had just stumbled onto so many high-value targets, and raised their rifles.

  “Be right back,” Rhys exhaled, and used his flutter spell to propel himself over to the enemy in an instant, getting the jump on them.

  After he elegantly used his knives to take them out and returned to the group, Xavier sighed, “Good job, Rhys. But risky. Think before you go running off your own. I don’t… want to lose anyone else today.”

  “I do, when there’s time,” Rhys said, sheathing his twin blades.

  Rather casually, Rayna suddenly blew up an interceptor that had gotten within her range as it was trying to shoot down an Angel sling ship. Following a loud burst and powerful flash, the bird separated into a shower of blazing pieces that crashed down under a war-scarred sky.

  Rhys commented, “Damn, Rayna, I hope you’re not just showing off. You must not be wearing your restraint bracelets under that armor.”

  “Only one,” she replied sheepishly, and gave her left wrist a tap.

  They went around a building’s crushed foundation and reached the main avenue that gave them a view of the raging warfare on the front, still miles away. B was burning, the smoke spreading all across and above the horizon. The rolling battle station leading the charge was barely visible in the outer layers of the wafting dark gray, below the watchful Amber Moth.

  “That’s our command post?” Izae asked. “What… is it, exactly?”

  “A modified mobile hammer from F,” Corus answered. “One of their super-loader air fortresses dropped it off. It’s our battering ram.”

  “City F is here, too…” Brim said. “After so long, can we really…”

  Corus asserted, “I think we can beat the Guard, yes. Today.”

  Far ahead, inside the top of the battle station, Menin oversaw the frontal ground assault as Wendell, the Montag cousins, and several other soldiers fired out of the embrasures around the shielded command deck. As a modified demolition machine, it was an incredibly loud and slow vehicle, but its armor was nearly impenetrable. The actual anvil had been taken out, leaving a tube big enough to fill three floors with riflemen and alchemagists who fired out slugs and spells covering nearly a full 360 degrees.

  Crushing anything in its way under its large treads, the mighty vehicle rolled on, barely fitting between the mostly intact buildings on the main road beyond Garder’s destruction. The incredible rumbling of the engines was punctuated by a constant spray of gunfire against the hull, and alchemagi techniques that fizzled out against the blue sealant that covered the entirety of City F’s most powerful land-based weapon.

  Wendell, with a plug in one ear and a communicator in the other, loudly shouted after taking out another anti-vehicular crew firing rockets from a building with his rifle, “Commander! Just got word from Xavier that Finx is safe!” He fired another shot, then added, “Better tell her brother!”

  “I think he’s busy at the moment!” Pip called back.

  Outside, Poret went by on Zalatrya, the rairer sinking her claws into fa?ades to propel herself from one tower to the next and leaving a trail of broken stone and shattered glass in her wake. When she had a chance at an easy kill, she would yank a Guardsman out of a building and toss them down to the street below, while Poret used his halberd to ward off anyone aiming for her neck. But her primary targets were the enemy rairer being commanded to jump down from rooftops and attack Angel infantry. She was a savage beast in combat, trained by an expert handler that the Guard had forced into exile because of his mother’s “seditious” actions.

  “Man!” Dak yelled as he reloaded his rifle and the fortress flattened another Guardian tank. “Colt’s right. It does feel justified to use a super weapon against the Guard! We need to personally thank F’s duke for this.”

  Wendell replied, “F’s rebels stole one of the hammers that destroyed their military academy and turned her into this monster.”

  “Ah! So, poetic justice. Even better!”

  “Eyes forward,” Kyler shouted. “More schutz incoming!”

  “Right,” Wendell said and reached for the large rifle swaying lightly from the vibrations on the rack near him. “Swapping to anti-materiel.”

  The bursts from the deadly armor-piercing weapons were nearly deafening inside the moving pillbox, but the sound was dampened a little for Menin, as his small circular command room was partially soundproof. The cushioned sides had him locked in and feeling claustrophobic, so he kept his eyes on his very busy monitor, which helped him keep focus.

  His concentration was broken for the tenth time that day when the phone hanging by his screen rang, which gave him a direct and secure line to the Angel airships in the sky. The sound was loud and grating, so he picked it up in an instant, expecting an important update.

  “Menin, Amber Moth,” her captain said from just a few thousand feet directly above. “Cloud cover still obscures a visual, but radar confirms that the Odin is over Zephyrda?s Square. Not moving; possibly moored. We may be within its estimated firing range in ten minutes.”

  “Copy…” Menin replied. “I thought we may be able to get here before she even left her shipyard in U. Her engines must be stronger than we thought. But the Guard’s new weapon won’t deter us.”

  “Of course not. There is also a storm moving in from the north. It may complicate our advance. Commander Yvell has something else.”

  Nym’s voice came through the speaker, “Menin, our rear guard is reporting that L’s forces are only two hours behind us and are moving to encircle. With a naval armada from Y and K already covering Grandis’ west coast, I believe we only have a half hour left to abort through our southern passageway. At best… we could still save half of our invasion force.”

  “I understand. Hmph…” Menin rubbed his eyes. “Even if we quit now, it’d be a repeat of H. I’ll forward this information to the commander.”

  The plating of the mobile command station rattled as the Royal Lapis flew overhead, her six engines roaring dangerously close to the slower, larger Amber Moth. The captain of the fixed wing aircraft was keeping her steady and flying directly over the main avenue. Onboard was the assault’s true spearhead squad, who would be cutting a path for everyone else through the most secure areas of the City.

  Each of them wearing some of the Angels’ only available suits of heavy assault armor, they were barely recognizable or distinguishable from one another. Simon, Shin, the three paradigms, and General Nolland, sealed inside the largest of the caskets, waited down in the plane’s cold and dark bomb bay to be dropped as far as the aircraft could take them.

  They knew it could be shot down any moment, at which point they would have to bail out. The onboard alchemagists did everything they could to take out incoming missiles, but little could be done about the barrage of flak that punched holes in the fuselage and caused constant violent shaking.

  “Copy, Menin,” Milla said, from deep inside a bulky helmet. “But we aren’t stopping. Not when we’re this close. If we have to hold the capital itself hostage, we will. Have you heard from the Mezik recently?”

  “Constantly. She’s still watching us from eighty-thousand feet and on standby for your call. General, the Royal Lapis is presumed to enter the Odin’s firing range soon. Recommend you drop within thirty seconds.”

  “Okay, everyone,” Milla’s voice came through the headsets in the others’ helmets. “This armor can take some punishment, but we still have to be smart down there. We divert focus, take out what we can, and—”

  “Cannon flash!” the captain’s voice suddenly blared, and the plane was rocked by heavy shells that must have just barely missed, or grazed the fuselage. “Incredible firepower. You need to drop, now. Opening bay doors.”

  “Damn, from that far out?” Masayuki remarked as the road began to emerge under them. “Guess the Guard has their own Mezik now.”

  “I’m not fond of the idea of jumping out of planes,” Simon huffed.

  “Don’t worry,” Milla said. “Take a deep breath, and let the armor do the work. I’ll cover us on the way down.”

  The Lapis took a bad hit and violently rolled sharply to the left, and the squad took that as their cue to leave. All six of them stepped forward and plummeted like boulders into the cold gray winds, down towards the avenue. The aircraft’s right wingtip had been shredded, and one of her three starboard engines was in flames as she veered away.

  As soon as they were cleared of her wake, Milla summoned her vector elemental, creating a serpentine shield of living atomic lines that fell at the same velocity as her team. For the Guardsmen watching, the sight of a mass of deadly vector rays dropping down made for a fearsome entrance, and the barrier also sliced apart incoming flak and cannon fire.

  Milla’s helmet had been retrofit by the burrow with a holographic HUD, which helped her identify targets. For the initial descent, it was set to highlight the anti-air weaponry on the rooftops. Just before her team had dropped in between the nearby towers, she blew apart her elemental in all directions, and the propelled stray lines cut to pieces at least a dozen emplacements that would have otherwise shot down Angel aircraft. Viktor then created a protective plasma sphere to cover them the rest of the way, which vaporized whatever the Guardsmen in the building windows fired.

  At an altitude of seventy feet, twin fuel rockets on the backs of the suits shot out jets of fire powerful enough to create bright shock diamonds. The g-forces were barely in range of human tolerance, but the air brakes lasted only a few moments and brought everyone’s speed down to a point where the boot suspension systems could withstand the asphalt-cracking crash-downs. After the heavy impacts, the fuel tanks auto-ejected.

  “Ha, yes!” Viktor, at the front, roared boisterously and raised his titanium shield that could devour a battalion’s worth of ammunition. “My best landing yet! If Valhalla were real, I would gladly step into it today.”

  “Their new ship got you thinking about Norse mythology, old man?” Tabi replied in jest, and began to fire her twin crossbows with bolts carrying super-growth seeds into the buildings on both sides of the street.

  The seeds became rapidly-expanding massive vines that sprouted equally enormous leaves. As vegetation quickly covered up buildings, the Guardsmen posted in the towers found themselves impeded, unable to dig their way through the plants—which made it safer for the squad to advance down the main road, with each step thumping powerfully.

  “Alchemagi shields up!” Milla commanded.

  The innermost protective bubble, Simon’s faint diffusion field, would weaken alchemagi from either side. Masayuki and Shin maintained a middle layer, the two keeping up a static field around the group that would scramble missile guidance systems and interfere with any powered optics looking at them. Viktor’s plasma barrier was furthest out, melting any slug smaller than a .45, and eating away at whatever might survive the journey. All of the shields could easily be lowered, should the need arise.

  Within seconds of landing, even while among many plant-covered windows, their armor was pelted from all directions. Inside, the team only heard pebbles on a tin roof. But they couldn’t hold out forever.

  On their march towards the final canal before the urban island that held Zephyrda?s Square, they were battered by alchemagi spells from elite casters, heavy machine gun fire, and even artillery strikes. Yet their armor held up, and the enemy grew desperate to stop them.

  Earth adepts would try to sink the squad into the asphalt or dig trenches to hinder their progress, but Milla would counter with Caeden-boosted earth, iron, and ice spells of her own to pull everyone out of traps or form bridges across fresh gaps. Heavy Guardian knights fearlessly stormed through the shields and attacked with blades and battle axes in armor made red hot by the plasma, but Viktor, Shin, and Masayuki would always decisively take them out—after Tabi slowed them down with vines.

  All the while, Simon kept up on his tactical analysis for the team with callouts restricted to just their headsets, as the interference from the barriers blocked transmissions to the Angel airships. They were cut off from reporting in, or receiving battlefield updates, but that let them focus solely on their vital objective. He’d also fire bursts of light to blind melee combatants with his palm-mounted bulbs whenever he had a free moment, but his most important task involved a relatively new piece of Earth tech.

  Heavily shielded and attached under his right arm, near his three fingers maintaining the diffusion field, was a touch screen computer; a tablet with a network connection, purchased earlier during the burrow’s hardware run after Earth had reopened. While he had his doubts at first that such an audacious idea could work in Aurra, he had programmed the needed targeting application himself, and thoroughly tested the signal with the cell routers now present inside every major Angel airship.

  The goal: achieve air superiority and get the big ships into the inner City. Every time another sacrificial, remote-piloted modified Angel chariot flew overhead and was shot down by anti-air emplacements, he tapped at the tablet screen to mark another building that hosted defenses. A 3-D map of B, made by Angels who had recently lived there, featured a database of the coordinates and height of each building. Once each emplacement was marked, every long-range weapon in the Angel armada would open fire.

  “I think this is going to work!” Simon said over the chaos around him as he tapped at four more of the isometric buildings on his screen, rendered to make them easy to tell apart. “No calling in numbers for each tower, no hitting them one at a time—no words lost to noise…”

  “These new Earth contraptions will make this too easy!” Viktor remarked after striking down another Guardsman with his claymore.

  “I’d say they’re just giving us a fair chance,” Tabi shouted back.

  “Hold here!” Shin instructed. “I’m sensing clustered life signs, approaching that upcoming intersection. From the left, a hundred feet up.”

  “Hunker down,” Milla approved the order. “Incoming airship.”

  Using a tried-and-true tactic that went back to ancient times, the squad sheltered in place, surrounding their commander with armor and shields pressed tightly together. Milla only had to wait a few moments to see the forward ballonet of a Guardian gunship peek around the outer edge of a corner building on the next avenue, reminding her of a parade float from more peaceful times. Seconds remained until its guns emerged.

  “Drop the fields,” she ordered. Once the layers were gone, the fire on them became heavy and their armor took serious damage—but it had to be done, to get a signal out. “Rosely, we have a threatening airship approaching. Do you have a solid visual?” she asked her bridge.

  “Copy. We see it,” was the response. “Firing in three, two…”

  Simon was able to turn his head enough in his helmet to look back and see the bow of the Blue Rosely, the massive airship squeezed between the City’s buildings about two miles behind them. Her undercarriage was so close to the surrounding windows that soldiers from both sides were firing at one another; the Guardsman from gun nests, the Angels from the ship’s cannon targeting ports. The coil gun deep inside the vessel was protected, and she warmed up in her signature blue glow and launched a sabot round with so much force that the projectile’s shock waves shattered nearby glass.

  The impact devastated the enemy airship, and the building just beyond it as well. The ballonet exploded, and she broke apart into flaming debris. The central cabin drifted over the bridge before sharply banking into a tower on the other side of the canal, where her ordnance cache detonated into a deafening explosion that sent out a wave of fire and dust.

  The damage to the skyscraper to the right of the bridge was severe, and it soon toppled into the canal, away from the road crossing but also damming up the urban river. While the dust cloud began to slowly dissipate, Simon finished up his tablet work as if nothing had just happened.

  “Messy landing, that one,” Viktor grunted. “Is the bridge intact?”

  “Seems to be,” Shin replied over the smattering of heavy gunfire.

  “Keep the fields down just a few more seconds,” Simon asked. “I’m sending the current map data to the ships, but the uplink is slow.”

  “General, are we firing the big guns yet?” Sasoire’s voice came in.

  “Negative,” Milla replied. “Hold off until we paint all the targets preceding the square. If we strike now, the Guard will know what we’re doing and focus on our artillery support. We may only get one shot.”

  “Understood. Be aware that Jaraphim is now fully engaged with the Guardian navy. He can’t guarantee our two battleships will stay afloat for long. Xidona is coming in to assist you with the bridge.”

  “Right…” Milla huffed. “The bridge…”

  The air ahead cleared up enough to again reveal the four schutz and six combat rairer protecting the bridge from the other side of the canal. The machines, beasts, and their infantry escorts were out of weapons range and seemingly unfazed by the nearby downing of a Guardian gunship.

  “Data’s uploaded,” Simon reported. “Ready for the next batch.”

  The alchemagi fields went back up without an order from Milla, and she immediately had the team get back into formation and continue their march ahead. It wasn’t long until their shields were pounded by the chain gun fire from the schutz and deadly rairer spines took to the air as a rain of organic mortars, all to take down six Angels.

  Milla cut down the acidic and explosive projectiles with vector lines, but as the water came into view, a bigger problem was revealed: the canal was already rising from the blocked flow caused by the mass of the toppled building. The river was halfway up the embankment and would threaten the vital bridge itself if it started overflowing.

  After some minutes of hunkering down—while moving very slowly forward—the group also began to notice the small but growing damage in each other’s armor. Being trapped in a walking casket and bombarded by firepower that could annihilate anyone in standard gear was nightmarish, the kind of event that led to long-lasting PTSD. Yet they pushed ahead because they had to. Some in the Guard, meanwhile, were tired of attrition.

  Frustrated by the lack of kills, about a dozen Guardsmen broke rank and charged without orders across the bridge, their pikes and blades thirsty for blood. It could have been poor morale, the widespread chaos of the situation, or impulses driven by sheer reactive rage to Angel hubris.

  Whatever their individual case, the men who chose to run at the team had made a foolish decision. Once they were halfway across the bridge, Milla commanded a powerful tidal current to rise from the river. Despite the weight of their armor, the enemy was swept away by the water that surged over the elevated road, and were destined to sink into the canal.

  This provoked another wave of rage in the remaining Guardsmen, and their officer commanded his riflemen, rairer, and schutz to pummel the group with concentrated fire powerful enough to damage the en route rolling battle station. The six Angels were being worn down, their armor now far from pristine amid a street full of impact craters.

  “Coming in,” Xidona’s voice brought relief through the headsets.

  Staying low to avoid the air defenses, one of the Angels’ few assault rotorbirds swooped in from where the airship had just been and unleashed twin chain guns and rockets on the Guardsmen and their weapons or war. The aircraft took hits on a vertical stabilizer and wing, but not before she wiped out most of her targets. Xidona kept the hobbled bird stable and flew further down the canal into safety, wishing the team luck as she bugged out.

  Milla’s tides cleared, leaving the road soaking wet, and the team advanced across at a faster pace—on the way dropping their fields for a moment to take out any remaining capable enemy combatants. One of the schutz had survived despite its armored body being torn asunder, but none of its ammunition could be loaded into its chain gun, so it simply whirred its empty barrels before Viktor decommissioned it with a fireball.

  Milla looked at the collapsed building as she walked, and had her allies keep the fields down a little longer so she could reach the Red Tenor.

  “Sasoire, prioritize getting the burrow kids to this bridge. Rayna has to demolish a dam and get the water level back down.”

  “I hear you,” the young girl’s voice replied. “I’ll do what I can. You’re heading off into the thick of it now, General.”

  Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

  “We’ll be careful. Keep an eye on Guardfall for us.”

  “Will do. Good hunting to Zephyrda?s.”

  This is a lengthy chapter.

  That's okay, it's by design.

  War is hell and lasts far too long, after all.

  If you need a breather, I understand.

  Unlike these soldiers, you can always come back later.

  With Milla bucking invasion norms and letting Nym manage their forces in the middle, the Red Tenor had held back in a command and guard position over the Angel’s forward base, at the eastern edge of the destroyed portion of B. Below, hundreds of her soldiers were being carried or driven to the medical tents overseen by Mesette. From Sasoire’s position on the bridge, she walked over to the starboard windows and used her binoculars to look at the northwest, under the incoming dark gray storm clouds.

  She spotted the moving mass of ravaging Guardfall soldiers, who had been ordered to remain at the edge of Garder’s blast zone where they could be kept an eye on. They still had plenty of Guardsmen to fight.

  Bordering the worst of the destruction was a band of towers that had their windows blown out by the pressure bomb yet still stood, or were at worst partially demolished and leaning against the next building over. It was in those places that Guardsmen were constantly being dropped in to occupy and engage the Angels on the back lines. But the sporadic gunfire between those in the towers and the Angels on the ground or in aircraft wasn’t Guardfall’s concern; with their specialty being melee combat, they focused on the heavily armored knights that appeared in seemingly endless supply via the three major northbound roads, who sought to regain a foothold in their enemy’s precariously-held urban ruin of a territory.

  Harken’s brutal warriors finished taking down another team of Guardsmen knights by the shattered remains of an apartment building, at which point he let out a labored breath and checked his gauntlet’s razors.

  “They’ll be worn down by the end of the day,” he grunted.

  “Just means it’ll be a day well-fought,” his lieutenant Prell replied, kicking at a set of empty armor. “Wonder how the others are holding up.”

  “Bah! We need to be on the front,” Harken grumbled to the thirty still-standing men he was personally leading. “Angels should give the Guard a ‘delicate touch’ in this City, says the mission statement. For the sake of negotiations, Nolland and her pa claim. Rivia wouldn’t have been so soft!”

  “They’re scared there won’t be any Guardsmen left to sign the surrender papers if we were leading the charge, Boss,” a subordinate said with a chortle, which garnered follow-up remarks from the others.

  “They’re afraid of us, always have been,” Harken scoffed. Something then caught his eye, and he looked into the ruins to his right to see a small group of Guardsman clad in dark armor, escorting a robed figure. “Ay, you seeing this? We got some pretorian personal guards roaming about, all lost.”

  As the rest of the regiment looked for themselves, Prell clanked his dual maces together and asked, “Well, might we be baggin’ a pretorian?”

  Everyone sounded off their enthusiasm for the plan, and turned onto the rubble-filled street, walking as quietly as anyone in Guardfall could be expected to in a half-hearted effort to sneak up on their new prize.

  “Harken, Prell, report,” Sasoire’s voice rang in their ears. “Unless you see an imminent, long-range threat in that direction, fall back.”

  Without pressing at his headset to respond, Prell muttered to his superior, “Are we really going to keep answering to that little girl, Seth?”

  Reluctantly, Harken did so, “Commander, visual on a possible pretorian or other VIP escort. I wouldn’t pass up on this chance.”

  “Understood, but do not go off on your own. We will work to confirm their identity. Return to the blast zone immediately.”

  Harken and Prell exchanged glances, and thought the same thing.

  Tired of Sasoire shouting repeated orders into their ears, the pair removed and pocketed their headsets and proceeded down the road, their soldiers rowdy and quite pleased by the rebellious decision.

  They settled down as much as they reasonably could as they approached, but were easily heard once they were a half-block away. The escorts turned to face them, raising their battle axes and pikes. The hooded pretorian let out a sigh indicative that he already considered this a nuisance and then also gazed at the aggressors, revealing his mechanical eyepatch.

  “Ah, big fish, lads!” Prell laughed fearlessly. “Let’s bow to our apostle, help him out, eh? He’s stumbled into the wrong neighborhood.”

  “Avoid eye contact,” Harken, far more serious, warned his men. “We take out his escorts first, then hit him together.”

  “Guardfall, is it?” Drides asked them, from about forty feet away. “Aurra’s barbarian horde. I didn’t come here looking for a fight. I’m out searching for someone in this mess, and if you assist me, I’ll let you all live.”

  “That so?” Harken shouted back as he ran the many blades of his gauntlets together to make sparks. “We don’t make deals with Guardsmen.”

  Ignoring him, Drides went on, “Garder Nolland. The one who…” he looked around the ruins, “well, made this mess. Have you seen him?”

  “Can’t say I have. But he better be alive. Damn kid’s a hero.”

  “For nearly destroying an entire City?”

  “For clearing us a runway!” Prell said with a belly laugh.

  “Simple-minded idiots…” Drides grumbled, rubbing his forehead. “God sake, kill these annoying brutes, would you?” he ordered his men.

  Without a word, his four personal elites charged, with weapons just as large, heavy, and sharp as anything Guardfall soldiers wielded.

  The two forces savagely clashed in the street, the grunts and shouts of the lightly-armored rebels louder than both the impacts of metal and the muffled huffs coming from under the Guardsmen helmets. Full physical exertion came from both sides, with minor alchemagi spells sometimes erupting into the spaces between the bodies that had little actual effect. The elites were already proving to be challenging foes, and Guardfall wouldn’t be leaving the fight unscathed. But they remained engaged until their dying breaths, and despite losing six members in the course of seconds, they had soon begun to wear out the Guardsmen and were pushing them back.

  Though they fought only four enemies, Prell followed the tradition he had with his superior and after eliminating his first, called out, “One!”

  “Not now, Prell!” Harken barked after he barely parried a mighty ax blow. Following a weak riposte that only earned him a light scratch on his foe, he noticed Drides walking off and growled, “Tough bastards are only a distraction—push them towards Drides. Don’t let him get away!”

  The inner palace provided the last remaining bastion of calm left in the capital, the only evidence of alarm being the sight of staff rushing about carrying relics and boxes of vital papers to safety, and the knights of the Royal Guard checking fortifications and preparing to defend the building against what now seemed an inevitable siege.

  Outside meanwhile, judges, politicians, and their families and servants were panicking, forming quarrelsome lines to the fibrocator stations that were being overloaded by a voluntary emergency evacuation. Some leaders who were fairly certain the Angels would treat them fairly remained; the other half were attempting to flee. Those deeper into corruption or knew they were especially hated by the rebels were in the biggest hurry to leave, and any friendships they had with their colleagues had disappeared amid their efforts to escape by any means necessary.

  Muffled by the throne room windows were the buzzes of both military and private aircraft; some heading towards B, the latter getting away from Grandis as fast as possible. Pristil was on the throne, doing her best to maintain her composure while her predecessors looked on and judged from the wall of paintings behind her. Cadius, Kae, and Charles stood at her side, awaiting a command as their queen mulled over her latest move.

  In front of her were Savienth, Terront, and three generals, their berets at the sides. They were growing impatient but trying not to show it.

  “… Ma’am…” one of them finally piped. “We…”

  Pristil shook her head, silenced him with a wave of her hand, and after a few more moments, spoke her mind. “The Angels are suddenly at our door. Soon, they’ll be knocking. How could we have let this happen?”

  “That… alchemagi bomb they set off…” one of the generals nearly choked. “Such brutality let them gain a foothold far faster than we…”

  Another spoke over him, “Your majesty, we estimate that they possess a contingent large enough to make it to the gate, and the firepower to destroy it before L’s reinforcements arrive. And that’s only if our anti-air defenses remain operating at full capacity. We need to think about your—”

  “I will not run from the capital,” Pristil stated sharply.

  Cadius murmured, “Ma’am, we need to consider…”

  “No. We cannot let them seize control of A. It will be the absolute end of us. They will have dominion; we would have no power at the table.”

  The other general postulated, “We may still be able to hold them back long enough within A itself, and if L’s army were to come in from the rear and… And, ah…” He hesitated. “If they throw everything at them…”

  “Aurra’s holy City, its heart, would see total, open warfare. It could be flattened within hours, and our world would belong to no one. Chaos reigns as any remaining semblance of unity breaks down.”

  Savienth sighed. “Perhaps even worse, the Administration reveals itself and rules over us for centuries, or however long they believe it will take for us to get our act together. I suppose, then, that the decision comes down to whether or not we want to see fighting in the capital.”

  “My queen,” Charles said sheepishly, “Fordein still leads our naval battle in the sea, but we’ve no word from Trinqit, Vermer, or Drides.”

  Pristil frowned. “I think it’s safe to say that we can consider those three disloyal, and at this point, use emergency power to issue warrants for their immediate arrest. But, Mr. Renek, I don’t want you and Ms. Anneise to suffer any harm on their account. I need trustworthy friends at my side for what may come next, should any remnant of the Guard survive today.”

  Kae gritted her teeth and replied, “My queen, please, the two of us can make a difference. We can still turn the tide of this battle.”

  Pristil simply shook her head again to deny the request, and then ordered Savienth and Terront, “Return to Odin and employ every tactic to delay the enemy. Every minute will count. Buy me some time.”

  Terront asked, “Have you come up with a strategy?”

  “I only see one way forward. Please, keep your faith in me and go.”

  Terront could still move quickly with his cane despite his age and blindness, but given the day’s urgency, this time Savienth kept her left arm wrapped around his right to guide him as she bit on a cigarette. They went down the stairs of the palace and towards the VIP fibrocator station, now reserved for officers going into or leaving B’s battlefield.

  “Watch your step!” Savienth snapped at a fleeing senator and his family after they nearly knocked into Terront. “Common courtesy, always the first casualty. I wish you could see all these terrified politicians.”

  Terront got out a small, airy chuckle. “As do I. At least I would get some joy from today. Ah… but listen to those fancy shoes, running away.”

  The peace and guile that had for centuries saturated A’s noble atmosphere, which had still lingered earlier that very morning, was now long gone. Especially each time that former calmness was contrasted against the sounds of distant explosions from the City across the bridge.

  “Ma’am, sir, right this way,” one of the last available armed escorts in the capital said as she rushed up to the commanders. “Odin may lose her hard line any moment. The Angels are advancing towards Zephyrda?s.”

  “Far too quickly,” Savienth grumbled. “They weren’t nearly so close when we were last out there, merely an hour ago. This can’t be right. How are they getting past all of our anti-air defenses?”

  “There are reports that the force as a whole is still holding back—it’s only gunships and a small team that have managed to make it that far.”

  “What the hell are they planning…” Savienth huffed out as they arrived at the transport station. “Terront, keep up or I’ll leave you behind.”

  Once inside the small but heavily fortified fibrocator building, the escort saluted them before leaving to deal with any number of other matters, and the commanders stepped into the teleporter for a brief trip.

  They appeared on the ornate, pristine bridge of the flying battleship Odin, at its bow. Outside its forward windows, the wire that provided the onboard fibrocation service connected to a defended tower rooftop and kept the vessel lightly moored. Another general was aboard, presiding over the officers issuing commands to those fighting in B. By him was the ship’s captain, and watching over everything was a young boy in a dark uniform.

  “Savienth, Terront. Glad to finally meet you,” the nine-year-old greeted them. “I don’t know how much you’ve heard about me…”

  “Why is there a lad on this bridge?” Terront mumbled.

  “He’s Grant Hement,” Savienth told her friend. “Remember? The pilot program—our attempt at having our own recently-reborn officers?”

  Grant emphasized, “I don’t have any authoritative power, yet. I can only observe and offer advice. But I’ve served the Guard before.”

  “Peh…” Terront grunted and took a seat. “Too little and late, I’d think. The war may be lost by this evening. How does it look out there?”

  “Not great. Turning emptied buildings into shrapnel was a rather, well… innovative idea, but we weren’t able to finish the efficacy evaluation.”

  “Because Mr. Nolland chose to continue his string of atrocities,” Savienth said scathingly, crossing her arms. “Thank God the casualties were minimal, despite the damage.” She went quiet for a moment as she watched another lone chariot get itself destroyed by AA cannons in the distance. “Do we know why they’re still sacrificing aircraft and pilots like that?”

  “Yes… Help us old-timers understand, kid,” Terront added.

  Grant took a breath. “When I last left Earth, drones were finding many military applications. Unmanned aerial vehicles—computer-driven machines. For both warfare and simple surveillance, reducing dependency on pilots who have to be trained for years, only to risk being shot down. Aurra doesn’t have such tech, but even basic chariots do have auto-pilot systems, however rudimentary. I believe they’re acting as spotters.”

  “They’re mapping out our defense grid, without throwing away pilots…” Savienth summarized. “For artillery strikes?”

  “Possibly. But, there haven’t been any yet. Fordein is monitoring the Angels’ battleships’ guns. If they take aim at the City, we’ll be warned. For now, our focus remains on stopping that roving battle station.”

  “And the Mezik?” Terront replied.

  “Still high above and out of range. They’re preparing something…”

  “General, that storm system is moving in fast,” Colt’s voice managed to get past all the other chatter, into Milla’s ear on the ground as her team advanced to Zephyrda?s Square. “Looking at maybe five mikes, and I’ll have too little visibility to reliable hit those inner emplacements.”

  “Copy,” she responded, as rain began to hit her visor. “Simon, how are we doing? The Mezik has to hit the guns around the square; the artillery won’t reach that far. How many targets do you have?”

  With the others shrugging off fire and returning it with ranged weaponry and alchemagi, Simon wiped the water off his tablet screen and answered, “Eighty-seven. Once these last chariots fly over, I should be able to peg the rest of the guns in one go. I estimate… thirty more?”

  “That’s three salvos to destroy all of them, plus the Mezik strike, Milla,” Tabi said. “And Colt may be able to take out Odin on the way.”

  “Right, I’m plotting a flight path for that now,” Simon added.

  Milla peeked around the corner of the strong building they were sheltering behind, the nearby stairs leading down into the partially-sunken grand square just ahead: a thousand feet of elegance preceding the bridge which connected B to the capital. Under the gray sky, sculptures, fountains, trees, and malls of green grass waited to be trampled on as Odin’s shadow covered much of the space. The airship was Aurra’s largest ever, and as it was lateral to them, Milla could see the length of its shining copper carriage and quadruple ballonets, concealed under an envelope with a pearlescent coating… and, of course, the twenty guns aiming towards her army.

  “No,” Milla suddenly said over the sound of the fighting. “Colt—we are not going to destroy Odin. Repeat—do not bring it down.”

  “General, our forces on the ground won’t stand a chance—”

  She cut him off, “Do everything you can to cripple their weapons, and disable a single engine. Give them no choice but to flee. We don’t know who all may be aboard, and the Guard will not be forgiving if we destroy their brand-new ship today. We have to give them something.”

  “Sounds like capitulation to me, General,” Viktor remarked.

  “We’d get something out of it too, old man,” Masayuki shot back. “Look at it this way: we won’t have a giant flaming wreck in our way.”

  Colt came back in, “Milla, your dad agrees with the idea. The last of our chariots are coming in now. Simon, awaiting your map.”

  His glasses had fogged up under his helmet, so Simon used a bit of solar alchemagi to produce a warm ball of light to clear them and let him actually see what towers would need to be hit. A moment later, the last four of their gun-revealing chariots soared overhead, above the Odin but still easily in range of the emplacements. A little over two dozen AA cannons opened fire, and Simon tapped away at his targeting screen.

  The fields already down, Simon sent the data and flight plan to the Mezik as the chariots crashed further off, telling Colt, “On its way.”

  “Roger that,” Colt sighed in relief. “I’m already forwarding these targets to the other ships. Coordination and gun adjustments should take about a minute. We’re beginning our dive; get ready for a show.”

  The Mezik came down from the clouds, roaring like a dark omen as she fired several dozen missiles down onto the pre-targeted rooftops. Anti-air cannons erupted into window-rattling explosions, only a few of them getting a shot off before turning to slag. She then leveled out some five hundred feet over the ground and barreled toward her new rival.

  Milla’s team watched from cover as Odin opened fire, several of her next-generation armor-piercing rounds grazing or completely tearing into the Mezik’s hull. Odin didn’t need to be totally precise, but the Mezik had to be surgical if the airship was to limp away. After taking time to line up his shots, Colt unleashed the cannons and point-defense turrets to chew apart the midsection of Odin’s bulk, either mutilating her guns or causing so much damage to the floor segments that they broke apart and the heavy weapons plummeted down onto the square. He then banked sharply to the left moments before he might’ve rammed into Odin, spraying a few final bursts on the way that knocked the power out of one of her propellors. Fires burned across the airship, but she’d survive, and with all her ballonets.

  “Crap,” Colt breathed out. “General, one of those slugs damaged our demirriage engine—or at best knocked some wires loose. We’re going to have bogies to shake off; don’t expect help from us for a while. But, the rest of our birds should be with you shortly. Skies are about to get clearer.”

  “Thank you, Colt,” Milla said, grimacing under her helmet upon seeing a squadron of six Guardian interceptors moving in to chase down the Mezik as she fled into the gray clouds. “Do what you have to.”

  A barrage of whistling mortars hit in the east, around the mobile battle station. Precision strikes destroyed the cannons that prevented full air support, without toppling buildings that would impede Angel infantry.

  Perhaps her crew now feared for their safety upon seeing the near-total destruction of B’s defenses, as amid the second salvo, Odin made a sudden ascension into the sky. Her fibrocator wire broke away, and the ship’s emergency alarms faded as she disappeared into the clouds.

  Her own power had been removed from the battle, but on her way up, Odin air-dropped two platoons worth of soldiers and six more schutz to defend the square in her absence, who quickly took defensive positions.

  “General,” Nym came in. “Our full force can start to arrive in twenty, two-zero, to take the square. Can you hold position until then?”

  Milla looked at her friends’ worn armor and puffed out, “We’ll try.”

  Drides took a pause in his search for Garder once the anti-air cannons began to explode on the rooftops miles to the north, well away from the flattened portion of B. Judging by the sounds echoing throughout the City, just about every emplacement was getting hit at the same time; the Angels were crippling B’s impressive defense array. It didn’t make a big difference to his plans, but he still found himself rather impressed.

  “Beautiful sight, yeah?” Harken’s voice scoffed behind him.

  Aurra’s apostle turned around to see Guardfall’s leader, and the eleven others of his current group who’d managed to survive the pretorian knights. Already feeling fruitless in a search he only felt compelled to do to keep a political ally happy, now Drides was beginning to feel agitated.

  “Come on, then…” he muttered. “Let’s get it over with.”

  Wearing smirks, Harken, Prell, and the rest of his men charged with surprising speed, trying their best to avoid direct eye contact. Drides didn’t even have time to unsheathe his twin blades before he was forced to defend himself from the long halberds of two Guardfall brutes. He blocked the strikes with his scabbards and then thrust his hands forward, generating two streams of vector lines that instantly cut down his attackers.

  Three gauntlets came in at his sides and back, which he responded to by controlling and propelling upward the rubble and metal around him, deflecting blows and slowing his foes enough so that he could grab onto two of the gauntlets—and turn their blades into molten liquid that steadily melted onto the street. The attack aimed at his spine was dealt with by employing a back and upward kick, and with his top half now leaning towards the ground, he used fire and iron control to send the glowing weapons back towards their owners, burning their legs.

  As they howled in pain and tried to shake off the tar-like metal, Drides fired a burst of light around himself to blind all three men, and followed up with an attack that took him a few seconds to build up—but was impossible for the dazed barbarians to dodge. Harken had to watch as more vector lines, this time flowing with an electricity that stunned muscle before slicing it, whipped around their master and tore apart his people. A sixth man, who had moved in with a battle ax from the front while the apostle warmed up his attack, was simply destroyed by a nova spell.

  The entire event had lasted a few seconds, and it ended with Drides taking out his swords and letting out a sharp exhale. Harken growled in disgust, but was undeterred. He and his remaining five loyalists rushed at the apostle before he could fire up more spells, and his men’s sharp edges loudly met with Drides’ elegant, one-of-a-kind blades. What followed were rapid, brutal, messy attacks against him, right after the next and unceasing, like a flock of angry woodpeckers looking for weakness in mahogany.

  Even with his innate spell-casting, he couldn’t find an opening to send alchemagi out of his body into more complex techniques amid the flurry of powerhouse blows against him. His blades became shields, and his concentration could only afford small spells of every type: little fire balls, needles of icicles, the off-tempo arc of lightning. They only resulted in nicks and scratches, but every bit of damage mattered in close-combat attrition.

  His physical prowess as mighty as his wizardry, the apostle held his ground. With every attack he deflected, parried, or pushed back, the blood rage of his foes only grew in their fury. He knew that, eventually, such vim would give way to recovery, sloppiness, and weakness—seconds he needed to look someone in the eye for that necessary brief moment in time.

  The opportunity arrived when the attackers went all-out in a final, combined effort to kill the surrounded lead pretorian. Their impacts were fierce, and they all landed to some degree. They tore Drides’ robes and cut his skin, but in the end, no strike was lethal. As Guardfall took their breaths and got ready for their next bout, Drides popped open his mechanical eyepatch. He grabbed the collar of the man directly in front of him, pulled him down to his eye line, and cleaved soul from body.

  He ducked under a retaliatory blow from his left, then looked up and blasted away another foe who made the mistake of peering down at him from above with eyes full of hatred. The apostle then air-propelled himself out of the dogpile before blades came down on his head.

  If nothing else, William Drides respected Guardfall’s tenacity and lack of concern for their own lives. They wanted to fight and die as warriors of old had done; not at all like most of the politicians and officers he knew.

  Determined to kill the apostle at any cost, Prell stepped in front of Harken and had his remaining two men line up, one behind the other. They then charged ahead once more, covering the distance in a second. Drides hit the fighter in front with his eye, but needed a moment more to take out the next. Prell covered the space the sacrifices had given him, letting out a fearsome war cry as his two maces came very close to crushing Drides’ head.

  Yet Prell hadn’t been given enough time, not quite. Within the split second he had to watch his oldest ally turn into orange smoke mere inches away—his battle roar still lingering in the air—Harken steeled himself and pushed the gauntlet on his right hand straight ahead. Prell’s armor, hanging in the air, connected with Harken’s and shielded his impact against Drides’ blade, the apostle already knowing his eye wouldn’t “recharge” fast enough.

  He tried even so, and for a tiny moment, Harken saw the deathly red eclipse flashing into his mind and felt a searing heat in his eyes. But the attack was interrupted just before it could finish, when Guardfall’s toughest brawler planted two of his gauntlet’s four blades directly into Drides’ face.

  Harken, who never quite believed that Drides could resurrect—surely, he was just hard to kill—went from snickering to a frown when he saw the apostle staring back with the eye that hadn’t been impaled by the tips of bloodied gauntlet blades. He seemed entirely unfazed.

  “Ouch,” Drides sneered. “Nice kill, Guardfall… Only cost you all your men, and your lieutenant. He seemed civilized.”

  “The hell you laughin’ about?” Harken chuckled nervously, trying to convince himself that he had just killed the lead pretorian. “You want me to push this a little deeper, give you a lobotomy? You’re dead, punk.”

  “Only for the sixth time.” Drides suddenly grabbed onto both of the implanted blades with his hand, and grimaced as he forcibly pulled them out and slashed his palm in the process. Harken watched in disbelief. “To your credit, that was good. I’ve fallen in close combat only once before.”

  “Cocky bastard,” Harken spat, and promptly decapitated Drides.

  But only very momentarily. The rumors proved true, and he had to watch as Drides’ smoke formed a whirlwind that drew in his robes. As fast as elemental travel, the amber cloud pushed itself backward and in a flash of light, condensed and reformed into the undying apostle, free of injury.

  “Ah…” Drides sighed and caught his eye cover before it hit the ground. “I always feel a little rejuvenated every time that happens.”

  “D-damn, boy…” Harken stammered. “You’re an abomination.”

  “No, just busy.” Drides began to form a mandala. “So, goodbye.”

  Harken stepped back, too overwhelmed by the truth and power of the apostle to mount any sort of defense, or to try and escape. Having just seen a miracle, he felt prepared to storm Hold with his fallen.

  Lightning suddenly struck between the combatants, accompanied by a crack of thunder. The bolt destroyed Drides’ vector lines—and had also brought in an expert adept who knew how to travel elementally. Clad in black and standing up amid smoke trails, a swordsman who wielded a crystal katana and wore a heavy visor emerged. The stranger turned towards Drides and stretched out his sword arm, revealing that it was fully robotic.

  “What now?” Drides groaned. “Mr. Xin, I take it?”

  “Killin’ him won’t do ya any good,” the interloper told Harken, and raised his blade into a striking position. “Hello, Will. Ya remember me?”

  “You…” he muttered. “Of all the idiots to survive certain death.”

  “Only bidin’ my time. Now, Harken, let’s try just maimin’ him.”

  “Nah. I’m not wasting anymore time on this,” Drides said, then promptly turned himself into air and traveled through the wind.

  “Tch. Coward,” Harken’s savior remarked, and turned around.

  Harken asked quietly, “Who are… Did you… serve under him?”

  The gaunt man pushed up his visor and smiled. “A lifetime ago.”

  Back at Zephyrda?s Square, the fight had reached a boiling point. A large air battle had erupted under a rain-filled, squally sky, and every passing second, another aircraft was shot down, either crashing into the warring soldiers below or disappearing in a burst of flames within a building. The monument park itself had been turned into a meat grinder of savagery and desperation. Grass had become dirt and mud, the statues were broken, and nearly every inch of the two-thousand-foot open space was filled with metal plating and blades, rifles and bows, alchemagi of all colors, sweat and blood.

  Spells, fire, and sky lightning kept the battlefield illuminated; the latter’s thunder no longer loud enough to reach ears. The totality of the forces from both sides were coalescing into a bottleneck, the formations and arrivals staggered. Reinforcements kept pouring in as room opened up, while the square was filling with discarded weapons and empty armor and uniforms. There were no organized ranks. Orders were nearly useless or went unheard. Often, the shades of the uniforms blended together in the storm’s low light. The Angels had a slight advantage in that regard; unlike the Guardsmen, friendly fire was difficult to propagate.

  The Guard’s war machines and rairer had gone down already, after being assaulted with overwhelming firepower. Destroyed robotics, vacated beast armor, and smoldering tanks presided quietly over a mass skirmish of infantry so condensed that some were simply crushed to death.

  In the mere sixteen minutes that the battle had raged—which felt more like hours—Milla had lost count of how many lives she had ended. On the other side of her rain-spattered visor existed pure chaos, her team separated or lost somewhere in a sea of raging humanity. Sometimes one of their voices filtered into her ear through the headset, but they only ever remarked on the situation, or offered words of strained encouragement to the others. Push towards the bridge, they said often. Inch by inch.

  With her bulky armor getting constantly battered and repeatedly immobilized, Milla could no longer reliably even raise her sword, so she was relying mostly on single, precise vector lines to take down foes, while trying to keep things in moderation to preserve her alchemagi reserves. The glow of her atomic lines also provided some illumination, sometimes letting her get in a less energy intensive kill by freezing some of the already chilly rain into deadly icicles whenever she spotted an opening in lighter armor.

  Lingering above was a fascinating sight that she couldn’t remember seeing before: each burst of light revealed a persistent orange fog, floating like a mass specter and bad omen over the battle. Continually replenished, the remnants of the fallen never fully dissipated. Whether every individual wisp came from Guardsman or Angel, the color was the same. Both fought for their very survival, but in the air, they were calm and intermingled.

  “Keep pushing!” Milla shouted to her army, though she now felt dazed inside of what was seemingly becoming a coffin. “Don’t just fight—shove them towards the bridge! We have to gain ground!”

  “Commander,” Daschel came in, amid the sound of the Mezik’s turrets somewhere above as she fought off interceptors, “the battle station and the Moth are about to reach the square, but L’s reinforcements are just forty-five minutes away. The Tenor and our rear battalions are moving in right behind the station. But if we don’t get the gate open…”

  Trying to keep her mind sharp, Milla created a new vector shield and attempted another press forward, with Viktor and Masayuki swinging their blades at her side. The moving lines were meant to act like a snow plow and “encourage” Guardsmen to get out of her way, but as there was almost nowhere to go, her deadly shield ended up cutting into and through their armor instead—which was almost just as slow and arduous as it would be to physically part the enemy with her traditional metal shield.

  “Bastards are throwing fodder at us, simply to slow us down until L arrives,” Viktor grunted. “Wouldn’t be surprised if they try to bomb the whole square and wipe us all out. Nearly every Angel must be here!”

  “Milla, this isn’t working,” Simon added, after blinding another group of Guardsmen knights. “We’re too mixed in with the enemy—picking targets is taking too long. Can’t Temki do something?”

  She looked back at the stairs they had used to enter the square, still painfully close enough to make out. The burrow’s kids, all of them in armor—Temki’s set in the best condition—were covering the back lines and were supervised by Corus, who was sniping whomever he could in the writhing mass. If only Temki could easily pick out which minds to stun, or Rayna had the ability to simply detonate all of the nearby Guardsmen. How easy such things would make this last leg of the generations-long rebellion.

  Past the kids, the lumbering battle station rolled in through the veil of gray smoke. Her engines strained and bellowed into the dark sky; the craft’s muffler system now too damaged to contain their roar. After taking a City’s worth of punishment, the station’s armor was falling apart and her treads were in tatters. She stopped with a heavy shudder, likely for the last time. Those who resided within her layers of sharpshooter nests continued their essential work, firing into the crowd to try and thin it out.

  The Amber Moth, still floating above it, was in even worse shape. One of her ballonets had been completely destroyed, and she was listing on her right as two of her propellors belched fire. Even despite her condition, the riflemen at her bow yet managed to contribute to the effort.

  “Nym. Nym!” Milla shouted. “Evacuate, now! Get out of there!”

  She replied over static, “I’m okay. The bridge has an escape pod.”

  “The Moth is going down! Your uncle is on the Mezik, if you—”

  “General, we are going to provide fire for as long as possible.”

  It was then that something struck Milla, a moment of clarity that led to an unfiltered observation of the battlefield’s horror. All of those people, fighting to the death, many of them likely disobeying orders from their superiors. Because to them, their individual battle was one worth having, whomever they were loyal to and for whatever reasons. Already fatigued and overwhelmed by a scene that she had never grown accustom to—and at this point, even Garder might only barely power through—she fell into a heavy trance that induced a sense of hyper-realism, an understanding and respect of the totality of what was happening around her. She was breaking down the sights and sounds to their core.

  Seconds dragged on as her mind went into overdrive, slowing time so that it could futilely attempt to understand the sharp clarity of its chaotic surroundings. Someone shouted into her ear about more incoming enemy armor, and she watched, no longer knowing what to do, as Guardian dropships delivered six more schutz to the upper tier of the square and missile launchers and tanks rolled in across the bridge, straight from the capital. With precision targeting, the machines picked off Angels fighting in the crowds that they could hit without harming any Guardsmen. Then the tanks and other mobile platforms unleashed into the Amber Moth.

  Explosions ripped through the airship, and her last aloft ballonets erupted into flame. Slings, life boats, and the smaller escape pods fled her falling corpse, and she slowly crashed down into a blazing inferno just behind the battle station. The wreckage blocked the avenue, all while more people who looked to Milla for guidance were mowed down by the chain guns wielded by thoughtless, uncaring robotic monsters. The slugs passed through bodies and armor, and splashed the rainwater filling the park.

  But just as she began to think that her soldiers had lost faith in her leadership, the war story continued when an F gunship roared overhead, and its powerful and rhythmic thunk-thunk-thunking cannons perforated the tanks and schutz that had just been brought in. The plane flew on, pursued by interceptors that themselves were chased down by Angel fighters. On the ground, one schutz remained unscathed and continued pumping round after round into the battlefield. Yet somehow, Shin had already gotten all the way up to it. And, being an adept within her rarely-seen natural stormy environment, she took to the air and redirected a lightning bolt into her sword, which she planted into the machine to instantly fry its insides.

  Milla’s eyes returned to ground level, where they suddenly saw a knight in heavy red armor running at her, ignoring everyone else in the mob. In her addled state, she looked on in curiosity and blankly thought, assassin?

  The League of Flame vanguard raised his broadsword, possibly ample enough at this point to pierce her damaged armor. Fortunately, Masayuki had stayed at Milla’s side to protect her, and brightly struck him down with a blade channeling redirected lightning just like Shin had done.

  “General!” Mr. Xin shouted at her as the knight’s charred armor crumpled into the water. “You have to snap out of it! Breathe, focus!”

  She knew she had to, but still couldn’t. It was only getting worse, and she felt her airways constricting. It was too much to both lead and fight; Rivia was among those special few who’d mastered such an art. She could now better understand Garder’s perspective, but that did nothing to help her in the moment, and the knees of her heavy armor hit the ground.

  “Caeden…” she wheezed in her suffocating casket. “I… can’t…”

  “I’m here,” his voice assured her. “I can help.”

  “It won’t be enough… This battlefield, it’s… it’s too…”

  “I know. And we’re low on time. Milla. I’m going to try something I’ve never done before. An ancient technique only available to apostles. It may be underpowered in our case, but I’ve always felt like I’m capable of it. I will take control, and I need only for you to trust me. Remove this heavy armor. Pull the emergency latch under the left arm plate.”

  She saw her reflection in her visor, a golden left eye looking back. As always, Caeden was calm and confident, especially when she was not.

  As she went for the latch, without warning Caeden unleashed a powerful air burst all around her that shoved away Guardsmen and Angels. Release bolts fired across the plating, and it all broke into pieces far faster than they would during a proper removal. The instant that she was exposed in nothing but her light inner armor, she made herself an even bigger target.

  “Milla!” Masayuki yelled out from the ground “What are you—”

  With the tremendous weight off her shoulders, Caeden was able to lift her into the air with a continuous updraft, getting her to safety from any immediate threats long enough to simultaneously project a tight, intricate defensive vector sphere around her. While it was protective, her elevation and the glow of her lines made her a prime focal point across the field.

  “… Caeden?” she murmured, as she felt something immense build.

  Without an explanation, it was as if he all of a sudden ripped her asunder. Her alchemagi was violently pulled from every pore of her body, and in an instant she had a raging fever, giving her the worst headache of any life. The alchemagi flowing out was seemingly corrupted, twisted into shock waves of darkness that fired at a rapid tempo repeatedly, about once a second. The powerful bursts were accompanied by a horrific screeching, like banshees wailing into the winds of a hurricane. She floated in the air as the attack spread, without even knowing what she was doing.

  The noise was inhuman, yet her mouth remained closed. It was similar to a strong mind blast attack, only, it went in all directions and felt like it was coming from her very soul, amplifying the alchemagi both within and throughout Aurra’s atmosphere. The result was crippling.

  Every soldier down below became paralyzed, only able to move enough to cover their ears or cradle their heads in pain. Even Temki had absolutely no defense against the scream, which battered him just as it did all the others as a wave of intense discord rendered him impotent.

  In the Red Tenor, which had arrived on the edge of the square to assist, Sasoire found that neither she nor anyone else in her crew could so much as grip the controls or issue commands. Thankfully, she had just cut the engines seconds ago, keeping the ship from drifting into a building.

  The dark waves hit those aboard Odin as well, hovering near A’s walls where it had been acting as a command station. Terront couldn’t see the waves but had a heightened sense of the attack, and he had fallen to the floor, where he lay curled up in agony as Savienth tried to reach him.

  So far-reaching was the arcane super spell, that it also approached the dueling naval forces south of B just seconds after it had begun.

  Watching on his bridge as one of the Angels’ battleships burned nearby, Fordein ordered his crew, “Ready the demirriage engines. We may need to warp in and defend Zephyrda?s Bridge at any moment.”

  “Sir!” the ship’s captain shouted. “Starboard side! Something is—”

  Fordein saw it for only a moment before it hit every ship in the area, and he found himself as useless and tormented as each crew member on the command deck. But he could still see that all gunfire had ceased.

  The dark waves even made it as far as the palace, albeit weakened by distance and the many stone walls throughout the capital. Pristil, head throbbing, moaned as Cadius helped her to a room deeper in the building. All around her, the palace staff stumbled about in confusion.

  “Cadius… Agh…” Pristil tried to get through it as she weakly kept on the move. “This isn’t a mind spell. I know what this is… Old power, almost forgotten… Control alchemagi… The Divine Cry…”

  He muttered back, “Are you saying… one person is doing this?”

  “Milla… It has to be Milla…”

  “Pristil, if this is something only apostles can do…” He looked at her. “What if this is Drides? If he… somehow unlocked such a power…”

  “If that is the case… Then we have… all already lost…”

  Back above the square, with Caeden still in command, all Milla could do was watch her allies and enemies alike suffer under a strange attack that she didn’t understand, yet came from her just the same.

  “Caeden…” she gasped, “you have to stop. It’s hitting everyone.”

  “I’m aware,” he replied. “I’m attempting to adjust its range and direct it so that it only affects those with Guard implants.”

  “What is this?”

  “A power only available to apostles. Suffice to say… you can see why they were once made the new ruler of Aurra.”

  “Milla!” Colt’s voice reached her ear, the distress evident in its cadence. “I… can’t move… Augh! Lost all control…”

  “Caeden!” Milla exclaimed upon seeing the Mezik nosediving in the sky, amid other crashing Guardian craft. “Stop, now! We’ll lose the Mezik!”

  “A moment longer… I believe I just about understand it.”

  Over the next few seconds, the Angel soldiers in the area gradually began to move freely again, but the Guardsmen remained paralyzed. While several of her men took advantage of the situation to take out some of their helpless enemies, most instead went through with the better idea of slipping out of the crush and positioning themselves at the top of the stairs, where they could surround the Guard on higher ground. Further away, the Mezik pulled out of its dive, just meters above the sea between A and B.

  “Everyone…” Milla coughed, and took a deep breath as Caeden continued his more finessed waves of darkness. She then spoke loudly to her tired men, “Surround the Guard! We will capture as many as we can. Temki, do you think you can neutralize everyone still in the square?”

  “It will be the biggest neural attack I’ve ever attempted,” his voice replied. “But… I’ll do my best. Ah… I feel better already…”

  Thousands of Angels had the Guard trapped in the square within minutes, and once Milla confirmed the park was clear of her troops, Caeden propelled her up again, even higher this time. Temki, in his heavy armor, raised an arm, concentrated, and fired out a tsunami of mental energy.

  Guardsmen toppled like dominoes. Most were at least dazed; some were rendered unconscious completely. Temki collapsed afterwards, being caught by Lechi before he hit the ground. Nearby, the battle station was a burning monolith, with its evacuated soldiers silhouetted against the flames.

  After Caeden finally quieted down, he landed Milla softly on the plaza next to her officers. Together, they got a brief rest and watched as their soldiers used any means necessary to bind or incapacitate the Guard. Time was short, but after everything she had just gone through, Milla only dwelled on the fact that the majority of her people put aside long-held understandable hatred and showed their enemies a kindness.

  Elsewhere in the City, Drides was recovering from the cry’s effect near a pile of rubble. He was rather shocked that he wasn’t immune.

  He groaned, “Lontonkon. Bastard. No wonder you never taught me how to…” He sighed. “I’m out of time. Sorry, Arthur, but Garder’s dead.”

  Back at the square, the storm was moving on. The sky was clearing and the rain had stopped. As visibility improved on a late afternoon day, the Shangri-La Gate could just be seen through some light fog at the other end of the wide and three-mile long Zephyrda?s Bridge. Milla and her officers, all of them now out of their shredded assault armor, looked at the big door anxiously at the start of the bridge, its supports buffeted by heavy waves.

  Behind them were a few thousand frontline soldiers, waiting for the word to march as the Blue Rosely floated above, ready to provide cover. Further back was the Red Tenor and other smaller airships, keeping watch over the many Guardsmen that had been spared and were on their knees or sitting in the ruined park with cuffed hands. The kids and provisional Angel forces would hold position to keep the prisoners contained and the rear covered, under Nym’s command—who was issuing orders from her new post, inside of the landed dropship she had taken out of the Moth.

  “Day’s looking better,” Tabi remarked at Milla’s side. “If I were spiritual, I’d say something about the heavens opening up for us.”

  Masayuki replied, “Still feels like fate. Simon, what’s our window?”

  While checking his palm’s flashbulbs, he answered, “L’s airpower was spotted at the edge of B. We give it a half hour before they’re on us.”

  “Long enough for a rousing, quick speech, I’d think,” Viktor said.

  Upon seeing a confident smile from Shin, Milla turned around to face her soldiers. Not expecting to make it this far, she hadn’t prepared anything. And she would rather get moving as soon as possible.

  So, she kept it simple, raising her arm and shouting to both her men and those in the airships, “On me! Let’s kick down their door!”

  “Ah, to the point!” Viktor laughed as the soldiers cheered loudly.

  “Copy, General,” the Blue Rosely’s captain responded into her earpiece. “We’re locked onto the gate. Firing in ten, nine, eight…”

  “Do you really think the coil gun can blow it open?” Shin asked.

  Waiting nervously herself, Milla offered no response. This close to the ship’s weapon, she could feel the electricity building in the air. In mere moments, it would try to be the first to open that gate by force. Six, five…

  And then, disaster. Fordein’s destroyers warped in; one in the water just by the bridge—the other, his flagship Destiny, on the bridge itself, in front of the gate. Seconds later, matter displacement thunder hit the Angels. Before the Rosely could fire or the Angels had a chance to process what just happened, the two ships’ main guns unleashed into the square. With their sheer firepower, their aim didn’t have to be perfect. Shells exploded into several buildings, and the Rosely’s forward ballonet was hit hard.

  “Menin!” Milla shouted as the massive airship came down.

  “We can’t maintain altitude,” he reported. “We’ll try to land in one piece. Damn guns knocked us out of our firing solution… But, maybe…”

  Although the ship could no longer be steered as it descended and listed, at just the right moment, it managed to get its shot fired at a different target: the destroyer in the sea. The sabot round scorched the air over the water and obliterated the entire command deck of the Castalian.

  The Rosely came down on the promenade alongside the square, Angels running from the area just in time to avoid being crushed. Fordein’s sole surviving destroyer opened fire again from on top of the bridge, hitting more buildings and several smaller airships. An attempt at the gate would be impossible with it in place, especially on foot. Even if the Angels made it all the way across, they would still be blocked by an entire leaning warship.

  Yet Colt came through again. Despite the Mezik being in rough shape and bleeding smoke, she performed a strafe run with what she had left, focusing on the ship’s deadlier cannons—but turrets and flak weapons tore into her underside, and one of her engines went quiet. With surprising grace, Colt brought her around, crash-landing in the shallows to the right of the bridge. The Mezik ended up with a nose dug into the sand by a sea wall.

  “We… We’re okay,” Colt said with a cough from inside the cockpit. “General, it’s now or never. We took out their big guns.”

  “This has been tough,” Shin sighed. “But I never imagined, seven years ago, that we’d ever even see the bridge… Milla, we’re with you.”

  Milla watched in relief as her father, Osk, Shiloh, and Daschel emerged from the Mezik’s side door. Osk used earth control to form a sandy ramp and get them up to the bridge quickly, along with many other soldiers. They joined in with her team, along with the Montag cousins, Izae, Poret and Zalatrya, Corus, Wendell, Xavier, and so many others who were ready to never be subservient to the Guard again. Everyone was exhausted, but it was very clear that they were more than willing to go that final mile.

  Leovyn, who’d just survived a harsh landing after spending hours commanding a brutal battle, was sweating heavily and out of his uniform. He still seemed happy even so, and patted his daughter’s shoulder.

  “I wish he was here,” he lamented. “Settle for an old guy instead?”

  Milla gave him a quiet nod, then raised her active engine blade, pointed it to the west, and gave her men a slightly longer speech.

  “Angels! The entrance to the capital is right there! Today we see victory, or the first day of another thousand years of Guard rule. Follow us, holding onto the times they wronged you—or had you hurt others as you served their worst. The old ways die today. We will not!”

  “Daschel?” Simon said as the boy stepped up with his sidearm in hand. “Are you coming with us? This isn’t really the place for…”

  “Yes,” the child commander affirmed. “I want to see this through.”

  Osk then spoke, as loudly as Milla, “We will blast holes through their ship, and their famed door, even if we have to claw with our hands! For General Rivia, and all those we’ve lost! Angels—forward charge!”

  The cheers transitioned right into thunderous battle cries, and within moments, thousands of armored feet were roaring down an elegant and revered bridge no seditious Aurrian was ever meant to cross.

  A third of the way over the span, Milla unceremoniously became the first Angel to cross the space commonly called the threshold: a bright oblong oval, the only place where two City-grade sunspheres converged. It marked the official transition into the Capital, and right away, machine gun fire from the anti-personnel weaponry lining Destiny’s deck greeted them.

  The rounds were devastating to the human body and came in fast, but so did the layers of defensive alchemagi. Those more adept created forward, larger barriers for the entire regiment, while the soldiers who only had minimal knowledge of wizardry focused only on giving themselves or those closest to them some manner of protection. The ship’s .50 caliber guns pelted them nonetheless, but they only needed to hold out until they were in attack range. And it wasn’t long until they could hear the groans of the bridge’s supports buckling under the weight of a destroyer.

  After a brutal two-mile run, Milla commanded her army to drop their defenses and focus on throwing whatever they could at the warship. Leovyn maintained a wide vector net in front of everyone to catch some incoming fire while letting Angel alchemagi through. Those that couldn’t render a strong enough spell to make a difference instead launched mortars, rockets, and missiles over the moving atomic fence. Within a few seconds, hundreds of ballistic and alchemagical projectiles began hitting the hull and deck. The metal siding would take time to dismantle, but the topside was devastated as a line of explosions took out nearly all the remaining guns.

  For a moment, once they were close enough, Milla could’ve sworn that her eyes met Fordein’s as he watched from his bridge, looking flustered upon realizing his vessel was about to be overrun. Before the Destiny took fatal damage, he warped it away, leaving behind an atmospheric black hole.

  Once the winds had settled, the Shangri-La gate revealed its might just ahead. The ancient stone slabs that formed the front door to the capital were covered in engravings of Aurra’s old rulers and enormous gemstones. Getting through it would be no easy task, but Milla still had an army.

  “Hit it with everything you can,” she ordered, and raised her fingers along with hundreds of others. “Our lives depend on how fast we…”

  She, and all of her officers and soldiers, fell silent when they heard an unexpected sound… That of the door suddenly unlocking on its own.

  Shout-out time!