The race for the prize was at its end, as two sets of hands lunged greedily for the golden calf.
One, perhaps too greedily.
The Rein Weissritter, guided by its Sphere, darted through the skies like an infernal bat from the abyss, its rifle drawling level with the ruined Mironga as it closed in, eager to seize the treasure within. So fixated was she on the prize, that the thought of the new arrivals must have seemed like a distant dream...
As well as the now fully functional ODE System, bolstered by the Mironga's own combat data on the White Knight. As Jo attempted to expertly spear the Mironga with the precision of a champion sniper, a pair of Bartolls flung themselves bodily into the path of the weapon, shielding the Core Unit with their lives as they sent up a pair of twin explosions - but their sacrifice would not be in vain.
As one, like an enormous metallic fist closing about an errant bat, the Bartolls rose to meet the Ritter, their own Boost Drives allowing them to easily intercept her approach. Her onrush was met with a head-on tackle from the closest machine, its shoulder slamming into her cockpit as its arms locked about her waist in a death grip. Six soulless metal eyes stared back into hers, as biomechanical limbs strained against a grip as inflexible and immutable as the alloy it was made of.
In the blink of an eye, more joined it - two, three, four more piling in, grabbing, grasping, seizing Johana, pulling her down, down out of the sky with their combined force. The Weissritter was hurled to the ground in a furious piledrive at the center of the metallic mass, as if in retribution for the pain she had inflicted on their fellows.
A dozen laser blades ignited about her, ready to plunge in, to rend her flesh, to shred her until not even ribbons remained of the monstrous machine... and then-
...Stopped.
...
The sentinels froze in mid lunge, bodies creaked to a halt, the morning sun shimmering over their silhouettes.
As though they had never been anything more than mere statues.
It was over.
As the Weissritter met a wall of furious drones, the ground about the Mironga trembled and shook terribly. Even the Bartolls that had landed nearby seemed to slow in their attempted rescue, perhaps even their dulled senses of self preservation alerted to the display of destruction that was about to take place.
The Mironga half rose in its crater, Dr. Valdona's consciousness slowly returning as he surveyed the battlefield, groggily. Things weren't looking good. He had to retreat. He had to get away, to fight another day. These were no mere soldiers. These were monsters. Why, oh why had he ever left the safety of the Nevada base? Of his laboratory? Was this the price he would pay for his defiance, for his thoughtless embrace of this malefic artifact?
All these thoughts and more rushed through his head. The machine's single remaining Tesla drive attempted to flare - and then seized, along with the entire machine.
Slowly, it rose in the air, along with the earth beneath it. As if an enormous hand had scooped a perfect semicircle out of the ground below, and was holding it aloft for all to see.
The Bartolls below did nothing but watch, owlishly. Such data was too valuable to waste.
With the most horrendous noise, the space around the Mironga began to contract, miniaturized in Aberon's palm. Every moment wrung more and more of the Melting Metal from its body, like little jets of glowing flame, every drop of the substance being wrung from it.
Spears of metal and glass pierced Valdona's body, crushing him along with the machine that was now his coffin. In his many, many years of existence, he had thought he had experienced the worst pain imaginable, but nothing compared to this - being crushed alive like a mere insect. What an ignominous end, he thought, for such a great hero.
Hero?
His memory fluttered. Like a dying spark, kindled to life by a gentle breeze.
Yes, he recalled dimly.
...
He'd been called that once, too.
A long, long time ago.
All of them had been heroes.
His father. His brother. His dear, dear sister.
Strong, true, righteous, and kind.
Their faces were gone to him, now.
Lost to the soul-rust.
Scoured away by the centuries.
...
Where had it all gone so wrong?
Theirs was a glory that was supposed to burn for eternity.
A shining light of justice that would sear that damnable parasite from the galaxy.
Did any of them even remember, now?
...
Was he the only one left?
Or was all that remained of that warmth, that flame of purpose that had once burned so bright...
As cold as the shells that imprisoned them?
With a terrible screech, the field contracted even closer. Barely perceptible, perhaps only to Johana, currently being dragged to the Earth... The Mironga's gnarled hand minutely stretched, trembling, towards Berlin.
A single, molten teardrop ran down a face crushed almost beyond recognition.
The truest, deepest sorrow it had ever known.
...as the space imploded, and the Mironga with it, there was a resonant hum in Aberon's ears. As the smoke cleared, all that remained was the sought-after prize, its verdant surface shimmering seductively.
The Sphere of the Covetous Ox lingered for only the briefest of moments before floating towards its new, rightful owner, dropping neatly into the same palm that had crushed the life from its previous Reactor only moments earlier. Unlike its ilk, it seemed all too glad to return to the one from whom it was hewn, like a long lost puppy having found its beloved, equally avaricious owner.
Aberon was now one step closer to becoming whole once more.
"James? James!"
The Genion's radio crackled to life as, overhead, the Storks seemed to realize that their assistance was too little, too late. With the ODE System's Core Unit destroyed, their vaunted VTX series were little more than paperweights, and they fled as fast as their Boost Drives could carry them, leaving twin trails in the sky behind them.
With a static-y click, the figure of Chethan Sullivan appeared onscreen, his face fraught with concern.
"What the Hell is going on down there? You wouldn't believe the things we've been picking-"
"...Apfalon..." Said a soft voice, beside him.
Sullivan, currently hunched over his laptop, paused in his breathless estimation to regard his constant companion.
Juliette Carpentier was staring out the window, in the direction of the battle.
Her body was held rigid, hands clasped tightly under her chin, barely daring to breathe. He blinked, slowly, and reached out, gently touching her shoulder. This seemed to shake her from her trance - but her normally level voice, the aura of strength she had tried to project since the murder of her Father so many months ago... was shaken.
"That was... Apfalon..." She repeated. Her own eyes glistened with tears - and his heart, even in this moment of crisis, went out to her.
It was always his inclination to step in, to try and solve everything on his own. With her, he'd had to learn the hard way that there were things he was to keep his distance from - and this, he knew, was one of them. When she stepped away, in the grips of a grief beyond his understanding... as much as he wanted to, he didn't follow.
Right now, Steelheart's life was in the balance. The sight of his limp body only heightened his anxiety.
No doubt, he thought, the work of the Quarreling Twins.
Worse still, if what they had deduced about Johana was correct, then he was in the worst kind of danger imaginable...
And their options were limited.
One, perhaps too greedily.
The Rein Weissritter, guided by its Sphere, darted through the skies like an infernal bat from the abyss, its rifle drawling level with the ruined Mironga as it closed in, eager to seize the treasure within. So fixated was she on the prize, that the thought of the new arrivals must have seemed like a distant dream...
As well as the now fully functional ODE System, bolstered by the Mironga's own combat data on the White Knight. As Jo attempted to expertly spear the Mironga with the precision of a champion sniper, a pair of Bartolls flung themselves bodily into the path of the weapon, shielding the Core Unit with their lives as they sent up a pair of twin explosions - but their sacrifice would not be in vain.
As one, like an enormous metallic fist closing about an errant bat, the Bartolls rose to meet the Ritter, their own Boost Drives allowing them to easily intercept her approach. Her onrush was met with a head-on tackle from the closest machine, its shoulder slamming into her cockpit as its arms locked about her waist in a death grip. Six soulless metal eyes stared back into hers, as biomechanical limbs strained against a grip as inflexible and immutable as the alloy it was made of.
In the blink of an eye, more joined it - two, three, four more piling in, grabbing, grasping, seizing Johana, pulling her down, down out of the sky with their combined force. The Weissritter was hurled to the ground in a furious piledrive at the center of the metallic mass, as if in retribution for the pain she had inflicted on their fellows.
A dozen laser blades ignited about her, ready to plunge in, to rend her flesh, to shred her until not even ribbons remained of the monstrous machine... and then-
...Stopped.
...
The sentinels froze in mid lunge, bodies creaked to a halt, the morning sun shimmering over their silhouettes.
As though they had never been anything more than mere statues.
It was over.
As the Weissritter met a wall of furious drones, the ground about the Mironga trembled and shook terribly. Even the Bartolls that had landed nearby seemed to slow in their attempted rescue, perhaps even their dulled senses of self preservation alerted to the display of destruction that was about to take place.
The Mironga half rose in its crater, Dr. Valdona's consciousness slowly returning as he surveyed the battlefield, groggily. Things weren't looking good. He had to retreat. He had to get away, to fight another day. These were no mere soldiers. These were monsters. Why, oh why had he ever left the safety of the Nevada base? Of his laboratory? Was this the price he would pay for his defiance, for his thoughtless embrace of this malefic artifact?
All these thoughts and more rushed through his head. The machine's single remaining Tesla drive attempted to flare - and then seized, along with the entire machine.
Slowly, it rose in the air, along with the earth beneath it. As if an enormous hand had scooped a perfect semicircle out of the ground below, and was holding it aloft for all to see.
The Bartolls below did nothing but watch, owlishly. Such data was too valuable to waste.
With the most horrendous noise, the space around the Mironga began to contract, miniaturized in Aberon's palm. Every moment wrung more and more of the Melting Metal from its body, like little jets of glowing flame, every drop of the substance being wrung from it.
Spears of metal and glass pierced Valdona's body, crushing him along with the machine that was now his coffin. In his many, many years of existence, he had thought he had experienced the worst pain imaginable, but nothing compared to this - being crushed alive like a mere insect. What an ignominous end, he thought, for such a great hero.
Hero?
His memory fluttered. Like a dying spark, kindled to life by a gentle breeze.
Yes, he recalled dimly.
...
He'd been called that once, too.
A long, long time ago.
All of them had been heroes.
His father. His brother. His dear, dear sister.
Strong, true, righteous, and kind.
Their faces were gone to him, now.
Lost to the soul-rust.
Scoured away by the centuries.
...
Where had it all gone so wrong?
Theirs was a glory that was supposed to burn for eternity.
A shining light of justice that would sear that damnable parasite from the galaxy.
Did any of them even remember, now?
...
Was he the only one left?
Or was all that remained of that warmth, that flame of purpose that had once burned so bright...
As cold as the shells that imprisoned them?
With a terrible screech, the field contracted even closer. Barely perceptible, perhaps only to Johana, currently being dragged to the Earth... The Mironga's gnarled hand minutely stretched, trembling, towards Berlin.
A single, molten teardrop ran down a face crushed almost beyond recognition.
The truest, deepest sorrow it had ever known.
...as the space imploded, and the Mironga with it, there was a resonant hum in Aberon's ears. As the smoke cleared, all that remained was the sought-after prize, its verdant surface shimmering seductively.
The Sphere of the Covetous Ox lingered for only the briefest of moments before floating towards its new, rightful owner, dropping neatly into the same palm that had crushed the life from its previous Reactor only moments earlier. Unlike its ilk, it seemed all too glad to return to the one from whom it was hewn, like a long lost puppy having found its beloved, equally avaricious owner.
Aberon was now one step closer to becoming whole once more.
"James? James!"
The Genion's radio crackled to life as, overhead, the Storks seemed to realize that their assistance was too little, too late. With the ODE System's Core Unit destroyed, their vaunted VTX series were little more than paperweights, and they fled as fast as their Boost Drives could carry them, leaving twin trails in the sky behind them.
With a static-y click, the figure of Chethan Sullivan appeared onscreen, his face fraught with concern.
"What the Hell is going on down there? You wouldn't believe the things we've been picking-"
"...Apfalon..." Said a soft voice, beside him.
Sullivan, currently hunched over his laptop, paused in his breathless estimation to regard his constant companion.
Juliette Carpentier was staring out the window, in the direction of the battle.
Her body was held rigid, hands clasped tightly under her chin, barely daring to breathe. He blinked, slowly, and reached out, gently touching her shoulder. This seemed to shake her from her trance - but her normally level voice, the aura of strength she had tried to project since the murder of her Father so many months ago... was shaken.
"That was... Apfalon..." She repeated. Her own eyes glistened with tears - and his heart, even in this moment of crisis, went out to her.
It was always his inclination to step in, to try and solve everything on his own. With her, he'd had to learn the hard way that there were things he was to keep his distance from - and this, he knew, was one of them. When she stepped away, in the grips of a grief beyond his understanding... as much as he wanted to, he didn't follow.
Right now, Steelheart's life was in the balance. The sight of his limp body only heightened his anxiety.
No doubt, he thought, the work of the Quarreling Twins.
Worse still, if what they had deduced about Johana was correct, then he was in the worst kind of danger imaginable...
And their options were limited.