Free Web NovelChapter 261: The Forward Attack, Unlocking the Sealed Chamber
Krax ripped his greataxe out of a shattered breastplate. He reached down into the dust and grabbed the surviving captain by the throat, hauling him out of the impact crater. The man dangled in the air, his armor dented and smoking from the gravity shockwave.
Novus jumped down from the wall, his shield cooling rapidly. He kicked a broken siege ladder away and approached the prisoner. "You tracked us fast."
"We were already marching," the captain choked out, clawing at Krax’s thick fingers. "The capital ordered a sweep. They told us to hunt down the Aethelgard forces hiding along the border. We found the tracks and followed them here."
Hawl blurred into visibility near the edge of the crater. He wiped stone dust from his gauntlets. He knelt beside a crushed soldier and pulled a folded parchment from the man’s coat. Hawl walked over and tossed the bloodstained paper to Krax.
"They did not march all the way from the capital today," Hawl said. "Look at the ink. They set up a forward operating camp just three miles south of here."
Krax dropped the captain and unrolled the parchment. A hastily drawn map marked a temporary staging ground nestled in a ravine.
The Tarnstead military was actively massing troops right on their doorstep, preparing to purge the border of the supposed refugee threat.
’Crush the camp before they realize this strike force is dead,’ Rubedo instructed from his sanctuary. ’Leave no survivors to carry the warning back to the capital. Take the beast kin.’
Krax grinned and drove his boot into the captain’s chest, ending the interrogation permanently. He turned toward the open gates of the obsidian base. He raised his greataxe and roared an order into the courtyard.
Five hundred beast kin poured out of the fortress. They wielded jagged cleavers and heavy iron maces. They completely ignored the standard Vanguard armor plating, preferring the raw mobility and lethal brutality of their natural strength. ƒгeeweɓn૦vel.com
They flooded the plains, following Krax as he broke into a dead sprint toward the southern ravine.
Novus and Hawl flanked the charging horde. They crossed the three miles of tall grass in minutes. The Tarnstead forward camp sat in the ditch below, consisting of dozens of canvas tents and wooden supply wagons.
The soldiers inside were resting around fire pits, entirely unprepared for a direct offensive assault.
Krax leapt over the edge of the ravine and brought his greataxe down on the closest watchtower. The wooden structure splintered into kindling under the multiplied gravity.
The five hundred beast kin crashed into the camp like a tidal wave of claws and steel. They tore through the canvas tents, butchering the Tarnstead soldiers before they could even draw their swords. The slaughter was absolute.
Hawl sprinted through the camp, petrifying the commanding officers and leaving solid stone statues for the beast kin to shatter with their maces.
Novus slammed his shield into the supply wagons, releasing blasts of kinetic fire that ignited the grain reserves and trapped the fleeing infantry.
Within ten minutes, the forward camp was reduced to a burning graveyard. Krax stood in the center of the carnage, wiping blood from his axe.
The Vanguard had successfully severed the enemy’s immediate foothold without exposing their true identity to the inner kingdoms.
Novus kicked a burning piece of canvas away from a line of supply wagons parked at the edge of the ravine. The intense heat from the blasts had completely incinerated the tents, but the heavy wooden carts remained largely untouched.
He pulled a tarpaulin back to reveal crates packed with salted meat, grain, and Tarnstead merchant manifests.
He looked over his shoulder. Krax was directing the troops to pile the bodies into the center of the camp. freewebnovel.cσ๓
"The supplies are intact," Novus called out, pulling a pristine Tarnstead cloak from the driver’s seat. "They have merchant seals and border passes in the lockboxes. We could walk right through their checkpoints."
Hawl blurred into existence beside him, inspecting the forged documents. "A massive Vanguard army draws attention. A merchant caravan goes completely unnoticed."
Up in the sanctuary, Rubedo processed the suggestion. The infiltration ring of Amber-Hive drones was already feeding him raw geographic data, but placing actual operatives inside the enemy infrastructure provided a different layer of control.
"Take five men," Rubedo transmitted. "Strip your armor and wear the Tarnstead colors. Drive the wagons eastward and embed yourselves in the closest trade hub. Establish a safe house and wait for my signal."
Novus nodded. He gathered a handful of his shock troops, instructing them to leave their Vanguard gear hidden beneath the floorboards of the wagons.
They threw the Tarnstead cloaks over their shoulders, climbed onto the wooden benches, and snapped the reins. The small convoy rolled out of the burning ravine, disappearing into the eastern plains to lay the groundwork for future operations.
Deep beneath the obsidian base, Syra stood before the sealed containment unit. She ignored the glowing geometric runes carved into the metal frame. Instead of trying to break the wards physically, she dissolved her physical form into pure shadow.
She slipped through the microscopic gaps between the door and the stone wall, bypassing the locking mechanism entirely.
She materialized inside a vast, circular chamber. The air was freezing, carrying the metallic scent of old blood and ozone.
"The vault is unsecured," Syra said softly.
The door unlatched from the inside with a heavy mechanical groan, swinging outward to break the exterior wards. She stepped fully into the room and illuminated her shadow blade to cut through the darkness.
There was no weapon cache or dormant engine inside. The center of the room was dominated by a massive, rusted iron chair surrounded by thick glass conduits. Thick leather restraints hung from the armrests.
A terrifying array of hollow needles and drainage tubes connected the chair to a central synthesis tank hovering near the ceiling.
The bottom of the tank was coated in a thick, sludgy residue that glowed with a sickly, pale light.
Rubedo linked to Syra’s visual feed. He analyzed the complex runic arrays etched into the iron chair. It was a synthesis device, designed specifically to extract and refine life force.
"This is not a bunker," Syra observed, walking around the iron chair. She ran a gloved finger over the deep gouges scratched into the metal restraints. "It is an execution chamber."
"It is a refinery," Rubedo corrected, his eyes tracking the intricate network of tubes leading from the chair to the upper tank. "Voranthar did not just execute his dissidents here. He strapped them into that chair and siphoned their souls. He broke down their life force and converted it into concentrated magical fuel."
Syra looked up at the massive tank. The sheer scale of the machinery indicated it was used constantly. "This is how he sustained the biological fortress. He was feeding his own citizens into the grid to power the mutations."
"He processed his own people to maintain his authority," Rubedo said, leaning back in his throne. "He kept this machine hidden in the deepest vault because if his remaining followers saw how he fueled his miracles, they would have slaughtered him themselves."
"What should we do with it?" Syra wondered, her shadow blade fading into the darkness as she stepped closer to the heavy glass conduits.
"Use it on the prisoners," Rubedo commanded, his eyes tracking the complex runic arrays. "Let’s see how this works."
