The Battlefield – Southern Camp. 02:30 AM.
Hell was real, and tonight it manifested as white light and black steel in the middle of the Aethelgard plains.
The Titan MK-1, christened by Riven as the "Iron Duke," had turned the enemy camp into a one-sided slaughterhouse. Logistics tents burned fiercely, sending pillars of thick black smoke into the crescent-moon-lit sky. The earlier explosion of the gunpowder warehouse had left a gaping, smoldering crater, scattering a pungent scent of sulfur that stung the nostrils.
The elite Red Skulls mercenaries, rumored to be feared across two continents, were now scurrying like ants whose nest had been doused with gasoline. Their war horses neighed hysterically, snapping their reins and trampling their own masters, blinded by the Iron Duke's brilliantly burning Xenon searchlight.
Inside the cramped, hot, and oil-scented cockpit, Sir Riven laughed freely. It was a laugh mixed with pure adrenaline and the satisfaction of a predator.
"Push forward! Don't give them room to breathe!" Riven shouted while yanking the hydraulic steering lever to the left.
The Titan's iron treads ground into the earth, crushing enemy logistics wagons into splinters. The jolts inside the cabin were violent, but Rumina's spring-coil suspension worked wonders in dampening the impact.
"Nor! Rotate the Turret to three o'clock!" Riven ordered. "The remnants of their cavalry are trying to regroup behind that small hill! Blast them with the Railgun before they scatter!"
Sir Rianor, sitting in the Gunner Seat, immediately spun the aiming wheel. The green sonar screen in front of him showed a cluster of panicked red dots.
"Target locked," Rianor murmured coldly. "Charging capacitors... Ready to fire."
Rianor pressed the red trigger on his control stick.
CLICK.
Silence.
No sonic boom. No needle projectile shot through the air. Only a low humming sound that suddenly died.
"Nor?" Riven called out, his brow furrowing. "Why are you stopping? Fire!"
"Dammit!" Rianor cursed loudly, slamming the control panel with his fist. "The cooling system failed, Brother! The barrel is glowing red! Look at the temperature indicator!"
Riven glanced at the instrument panel. The barrel temperature needle was pinned at the dangerous red zone.
"Where's the cooling fan?!"
"The fan is jammed with debris from that explosion!" Rianor shouted in a panic, sweat pouring down his forehead. "If we force another shot, that Adamantite barrel will melt and the Railgun will explode in our faces! We'll die like idiots in here!"
"Then what do we do?! we're sitting ducks if we just stand here!"
"Wait 15 minutes for manual cooling!"
"Fifteen minutes?!" Riven's eyes bulged. He looked through the steel viewing slit. "In a battlefield, 15 minutes is a lifetime, you fool! The enemy will realize we're jammed!"
And indeed, Riven's prediction came sooner than expected.
Amidst the smoke and burning fire about 100 meters ahead of them, a massive machine rose from the ruins of the command tent.
The earth shook with every step of its iron feet.
DUM... DUM...
It was Colonel Varg's War Golem (Juggernaut Type).
The four-meter-tall killing machine was the embodiment of the Iron Empire's crude steam technology. Its body was made of thick cast-iron plates joined by thousands of large, rusted rivets. On its back, three chimneys spewed thick black steam into the air (Choo-choo!), creating an intimidating hissing sound.
Its movements were stiff and slow, driven by leaking and noisy hydraulic pistons (CLANK... HISS...). But its massive size meant that speed was not an issue. Attached to its right hand was a massive circular Buzzsaw, the kind used to clear thick forest jungles. The saw spun rapidly. WIRRRRR...
Colonel Varg's voice echoed from a primitive funnel loudspeaker at the Golem's neck.
"HAH! WHY HAVE YOU STOPPED, NORTHERN RAT?! OUT OF BREATH?!"
The Golem stepped forward, shoving a carriage wreck out of its path with a casual kick. Varg, the war veteran, immediately realized that Riven's Titan was no longer firing.
"YOUR WEAPON IS JAMMED! I KNOW THE WEAKNESS OF NEW TECHNOLOGY!" Varg shouted triumphantly. "NOW IT'S MY TURN TO PEEL THIS SARDINE CAN!"
The Golem began to lunge. It was slow, but the momentum of five tons of iron could not be underestimated. It raised its massive saw high, ready to cleave the Titan's roof in two.
In the Titan's rear seat, Elara and Rumina turned pale.
"Brother! Reverse! Put it in reverse!" Rumina shrieked. "Our armor is strong, but it won't hold against an industrial saw!"
Riven stared at the approaching iron monster through the viewing slit. His eyes narrowed sharply.
He did not move the lever to reverse.
Instead, he calmly unbuckled his seatbelt. Click.
"Nor," Riven called, his voice flat yet dangerous.
"What?! Don't be crazy, Brother!"
"Open the top hatch."
"WHAT?! What are you doing?! There are still enemy shooters out there!" Rianor protested.
"Open it, or I'll kick the door off its hinges!" Riven barked. He grabbed his Chain-Axe leaning beside the driver's seat.
Riven smirked—a grin that would make even the bravest thug in the world run in terror.
"Your machine might be jammed, Nor. Your technology might fail. But my muscles? My muscles never overheat."
Rianor let out a resigned sigh. He knew there was no point in arguing with his brother when his "crazy" mode was active. He pressed the hydraulic hatch button.
HISS... CLANK.
The Titan's roof hatch opened, letting smoke and the smell of gunpowder into the cabin.
Riven climbed out.
He stood tall on the Titan's flat roof. The night wind whipped against his cloak and hair. The blinding searchlight from beneath his feet made Riven look like a demon silhouette in the eyes of the enemy.
"HEY, YOU RUSTY SCRAP METAL!" Riven shouted, his voice thundering against the roar of the Golem's engine.
Inside the Golem's cockpit, Colonel Varg was shocked to death seeing that madman step out of his safe vehicle.
"YOU?! YOU DARE CHALLENGE A STEAM MACHINE WITH AN AXE?! YOU PRIMITIVE FOOL! DIE!"
Varg didn't waste the opportunity. He swung the Golem's right arm horizontally. The massive saw blade whirled toward Riven's head with lethal speed.
ZINGGG!
Riven didn't dodge sideways. He did the unexpected.
He jumped forward.
Using the Orange Aura body-fortification technique he had learned from his father, Riven's leg muscles exploded with super strength. He jumped vertically, three meters high, right over that deadly saw swing.
Varg's saw missed, only cutting the air beneath Riven's feet and scratching a bit of paint on the Titan's roof, sending sparks flying.
THUD!
Riven landed hard on the Golem's left shoulder.
Riven's black steel armor clashed against the Golem's crude cast iron. He slipped slightly as the Golem's surface was slick with oil and steam.
"GET OFF, YOU PEST!" Varg shouted in panic.
The Golem shook violently, trying to throw Riven off. Its left hand (shaped like a pincer) tried to strike its own shoulder to swat Riven like a mosquito.
"Missed!"
Riven rolled across the Golem's back, avoiding the iron pincer.
Varg activated the close-range defense system.
PSSSHHHHT!
A high-pressure burst of hot steam was fired from the Golem's neck gap.
"ARGH!" Riven groaned as the hot steam hit his face. His skin blistered slightly, but adrenaline made him ignore the pain.
He grabbed the Golem's hot exhaust pipe with his left hand as an anchor. His leather gloves smoked.
"Are you done playing with your steam?" Riven growled right beside the Golem's cockpit helmet.
Riven raised his right hand. He squeezed the trigger on his axe handle.
VROOOOM!
The Mana Engine inside the axe roared. The Adamantite saw blades spun at 3,000 RPM. The sound was high-pitched, promising destruction.
"Express delivery from Northreach!"
With a battle cry that split the night, Riven slammed his axe into the Golem's neck joint—the weakest point where the steel plates met the hydraulic hinge.
KREAAAKKK!
The sound of tearing metal was agonizing to the ears.
The Iron Empire's low-quality cast iron had no chance against the ancient city's looted Adamantite. Riven's axe devoured the metal like a chainsaw cutting through wet wood.
Black oil sprayed onto Riven's face. Sparks flew wildly.
"NO! IT'S IMPOSSIBLE!" Varg shrieked from within.
Riven pressed the axe deeper, severing the main steam delivery pipe, cutting the control cables, and finally piercing the cockpit roof.
BOOM!
A small explosion occurred as the Golem's steam pressure leaked entirely.
The giant robot convulsed for a moment, losing power, and then tilted. Its iron knees buckled, hitting the ground with a thunderous thud that shook the earth.
CRASH!
Thick white smoke enveloped the robot's carcass.
Riven jumped down from the Golem's shoulder, landing in a Superhero Landing on the muddy ground. His breath was heavy, mist escaping from his mouth.
He walked toward the silent Golem's chest. He kicked the dented cockpit door until it popped off.
CLANG!
Inside, Colonel Varg was coughing violently. His face was red, scorched by the leaking steam, his luxury uniform was burnt, and his hat was gone. He tried to reach for the pistol at his waist with a trembling hand.
Too late.
Riven's Chain-Axe blade, still spinning slowly (vroom... vroom...), was already pressed against his neck.
"Don't," Riven said coldly. His gaze was more terrifying than any ghost. "Move an inch, and your head rolls."
Varg froze. He looked around through the gaps of the ruined cockpit.
In the distance, his troops had already thrown down their weapons. The Ghost Squad was still aiming from the hill. And in front of him stood a demon in black armor who had just killed a war robot with his bare hands.
"I... I surrender..." Varg squeaked, his voice cracking. His arrogance had vanished without a trace. "According to International War Conventions... an officer who surrenders cannot be killed..."
Riven switched off his axe's engine.
Sret... Silence.
"MISSION ACCOMPLISHED!" Riven shouted while raising his axe into the air.
The victory cheers of the Red Lions troops erupted, echoing throughout the valley.
"LONG LIVE THE NORTHERN LION!"
"LONG LIVE HOUSE SUDRATH!"
That night, beneath the moonlight and the remnants of the fires, a new legend was born. A legend of a mad noble family who destroyed a modern army with a looted tank and pure courage.