Chapter 29: The Iron Monsoon
The stratosphere was a cold, lonely desert of indigo and starlight, but tonight, it was a battlefield. At thirty thousand feet, the air was too thin for men to breathe, but I wasn't just a man anymore. I was a kinetic anomaly, a streak of blue-silver fire cutting through the clouds. Below me, the Sea of Japan was a dark, churning cauldron, but my focus was entirely on the twelve crimson signatures screaming toward me at Mach 2.5.
[System Notification: High-Velocity Engagement Imminent]
[Target: Tsar-Class Automated Interceptors (12 Units)]
[Weaponry: Tactical EMP Missiles / Plasma Cannons]
The Iron Tsar in Moscow wasn't playing with magic or alchemy; he was playing with the raw, brutal physics of war. These jets weren't piloted by humans; they were extensions of his singular, iron will, bound by threads of absolute obedience that I could see even from miles away.
"Let's see if your iron can hold its shape in my world," I muttered, the golden circuits in my eyes spinning with a frantic intensity.
The lead interceptor fired. A salvo of six missiles streaked toward me, their exhaust trails etching white scars across the indigo sky. They weren't seeking my heat signature; they were seeking my aura.
[Skill Activated: Architect of Matter – Atmospheric Solidification]
I didn't dodge. I raised my hands, and the thin air in front of me groaned as I forced the molecules into a diamond-hard crystalline lattice. The missiles slammed into the invisible wall, erupting in a spectacular chain of orange fireballs that lit up the night for miles.
But the Tsar was relentless. The remaining eleven jets broke formation, circling me like mechanical vultures. Their underside cannons began to glow with a harsh, crimson light.
Pulse. Pulse. Pulse.
Beams of superheated plasma tore through the sky. I moved, using [Ghost Step] to flicker between the beams, but the sheer volume of fire was overwhelming. One beam grazed my shoulder, searing through my carbon-nanotube suit and scorching my skin.
[Health: 92%]
[Warning: Plasma heat is bypassing 'Architect' defenses!]
"You want to play with heat?" I growled, feeling the collective desires of Tokyo and Oakhaven surging within me. "Then let's talk about the desire of the sun."
I concentrated my [Rank 5 Authority]. I didn't just want to destroy the jets; I wanted to rewrite them. I focused on the lead jet, seeing the thick, iron thread that connected it to the Tsar's command center in Moscow.
[Skill Activated: Thread-Severance – Batch Processing]
I reached out, not with my hands, but with my mind. I didn't cut the pilots' lives—they were drones—I cut the purpose of the fuel within their tanks. I injected a single, paradoxical command into the chemical structure of the jet fuel: [Solidify].
In an instant, the liquid fuel inside the eleven jets turned into solid granite.
The roar of the engines vanished, replaced by the terrifying sound of mechanical failure at twice the speed of sound. The interceptors didn't explode; they simply became heavy, aerodynamic bricks. They pitched forward, tumbling helplessly toward the dark ocean below.
[Ding!]
[12 Tsar Interceptors Neutralized.]
[Experience Gained. 2,000 DP Earned.]
But the victory was short-lived. A massive shadow began to loom over the clouds, eclipsing the moon. It was a flying fortress—a literal city of iron suspended by gravity-defying engines. The 'Volga-Prime'.
A holographic projection flickered into existence in the air before me. It was a man with a beard of iron-gray, his face scarred by a dozen wars, his eyes two glowing furnaces of red light. The Iron Tsar.
"Fang Li," the Tsar's voice was a deep, seismic rumble that vibrated through the very air. "You broke the Alchemist's toys and silenced the Blade-Master's void. But iron does not break. Iron only bends under pressure, and I am the hammer of the world."
"You're a dinosaur, Tsar," I replied, my blue aura flaring as I hovered before the massive fortress. "The world isn't made of iron anymore. It's made of data and desire."
"Data is for the weak," the Tsar roared. "Desire is a flicker! Only the machine is eternal!"
The Volga-Prime opened its primary weapon port—a massive, circular railgun that began to hum with enough electricity to power a continent. The air around the fortress began to warp from the magnetic pressure.
[WARNING: GIGAWATT-LEVEL ENERGY BUILD-UP DETECTED]
[Survival Probability: 4%]
"Elena, Isabella," I whispered into the mental network, "if you can hear me... stay in the bunker. This is going to get loud."
I didn't try to shield myself this time. I closed my eyes and reached deeper into the Root Code than I ever had before. I didn't just want to manipulate matter; I wanted to become the Fate-Breaker of the very machine before me.
I saw the threads of the Volga-Prime—millions of them, connecting every bolt, every gear, every circuit to the Tsar's heart. It was a masterpiece of industrial tyranny.
"You think iron is eternal?" I asked, my voice echoing through the clouds like a divine judgment. "Let's see how it handles [Total Obsolescence]."
I spent every single Desire Point I had—12,000 DP—in a single, catastrophic burst of authority. I didn't attack the fortress. I attacked the concept of the machine.
[Ultimate Skill Unleashed: The Rust of Time]
A wave of golden-blue energy erupted from my body, washing over the Volga-Prime. To the naked eye, nothing happened for a second. Then, a single bolt on the outer hull turned to red dust. Then another. Then a gear in the central engine seized.
The massive flying fortress began to groan—a sound of a thousand metal screams. The iron wasn't just breaking; it was aging a thousand years every second. The high-tech alloy turned to brittle rust; the electric wires turned to frayed silk.
"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!" the Tsar's hologram screamed, his image flickering as his own life-support systems began to fail.
"I gave your iron a history," I said, watching as the massive city of rust began to break apart, falling like a rain of debris into the Sea of Japan. "And history always ends in dust."
[Ding!]
[Volga-Prime Destroyed.]
[The Iron Tsar: Status - CRITICAL / EVACUATED.]
I hovered in the silence of the high atmosphere, my body trembling from the massive energy drain. The sky was clear again, the moon shining brightly over the wreckage of the Tsar's ambition.
I was the only thing left in the sky.
[Rank 5 Authority: Confirmed.]
[New Title: The Architect of the New Age.]
I looked toward the north, toward Moscow. The Tsar was alive, but his empire was dust. And beyond Moscow, the First Apostle was waiting. The final thread was finally within my sight.