Free Web NovelChapter 116: [116] Kinetic Redirection, Boarding the Engine
The change was violently instantaneous.
It was not the apocalyptic, world-ending density of the million-fold multiplier he used to wield as a Grand Sovereign. It was a pure, concentrated doubling of his base physical and conceptual limits.
His muscles tore and instantly healed. They bulged against the fabric of his tailored suit with explosive, unnatural power. His sensory perception accelerated to the point where the chaotic battlefield seemed to freeze in place.
The spinning sparks from the destroyed turrets hung in the air. The plasma bolts fired by the escort skiffs crawled forward like lazy, glowing bugs.
One second.
Arthur did not hesitate. He planted his heavy boots on the footpegs of the speeding grav-bike and launched himself directly into the air. He left the bike behind, his body flying forward like a fired missile.
He flew straight toward the glowing blue energy shields protecting the back of the engine car.
He didn’t cast a spell to break the shield. He didn’t use a sword to cut it. He used pure, hyper-efficient human anatomy doubled in kinetic force. He formed his right hand into a rigid spear and drove it forward, aiming for the exact micro-fracture in the shield’s frequency. ƒгeewebnovёl.com
"POP!"
The energy shield didn’t shatter. It simply parted around his hand, unable to register the sudden, doubled density of his physical form. Arthur slipped right through the barrier.
Two seconds.
He sailed through the air, crossing the gap between his bike and the train. He braced his arms in front of his face as he slammed directly into the heavy, reinforced glass of the train’s rear cockpit door.
"CRASH!"
The thick glass exploded inward.
[Multiplier Deactivated.]
[Duration expired.]
Time snapped back to normal.
Arthur hit the metal floor of the engine cabin and rolled perfectly, absorbing the massive kinetic impact of his landing. He popped up to his feet instantly, brushing a shard of glass off his charcoal suit.
He was inside.
The cabin was cramped, filled with glowing control panels, hissing pipes, and the deafening roar of the train’s massive engine.
It was also filled with security.
Six heavily augmented train guards stood in the room. They wore thick, industrial-grade armor plating and carried short, brutal plasma shotguns designed for close-quarters combat. At the very front of the room, a terrified conductor in a neat uniform stood frozen, his hands hovering over the main control console.
The six guards whipped around, staring at the man who had just crashed through their rear window.
"Intruder!" the lead guard yelled, raising his shotgun.
Arthur didn’t draw the Ebonheart Sword. It was too cramped in here for a long blade. He had to rely entirely on the flawless, ingrained muscle memory of the ten million sword swings he had leeched from Caden Cross. He didn’t need magic. He just needed to break them.
"WHOOSH!"
Arthur blurred forward. He stepped inside the guard’s reach before the man could even pull the trigger.
He grabbed the barrel of the shotgun with his left hand, forcing it upward. With his right hand, he delivered a brutal, open-palm strike directly to the guard’s elbow joint.
"CRACK!"
The guard shrieked as his arm snapped backward at a sickening angle. Arthur didn’t stop. He grabbed the screaming man by the collar and violently spun him around, using the heavy armored body as a meat shield.
"Sizzle! Sizzle!"
The other two guards on the left flank panicked and fired. The plasma bolts slammed into the back of their own squadmate, melting the armor but failing to penetrate deeply.
Arthur used the momentum of the friendly fire to push forward. He dropped low, entirely releasing his human shield. He swept his right leg out in a devastating arc, taking out the footing of both shooters.
As they hit the metal floor, Arthur popped up. He drove his heavy boots down, stomping precisely on the knee joints of the two fallen guards.
"CRUNCH! CRUNCH!"
Both men howled in agony, their legs completely immobilized.
That was three down in less than four seconds.
The remaining three guards on the right flank realized shooting was a bad idea in the confined space. They dropped their shotguns and drew heavy, crackling stun batons. They charged Arthur simultaneously.
Arthur stood up straight, adjusting his tie. His pitch-black eyes were entirely devoid of emotion. He fought with surgical, corporate efficiency.
The first guard swung his baton in a wide, sloppy overhead arc. Arthur casually sidestepped it. He extended his index and middle fingers and drove them with terrifying pinpoint accuracy into the exposed, unarmored joint beneath the guard’s armpit.
"SQUELCH!"
It was the Nerve Pinch Protocol. The guard gagged, his eyes rolling back in his head as his motor functions instantly short-circuited. He collapsed into a twitching heap.
The fifth guard thrust his baton forward like a spear. Arthur parried the strike with his bare forearm, letting the crackling energy glance harmlessly off his suit sleeve. He stepped in close and delivered a devastating elbow strike directly to the man’s throat.
The guard dropped his weapon, clutching his crushed windpipe as he fell to his knees, gasping for air.
The final guard froze. He looked at his five incapacitated squadmates groaning on the floor. He looked at the man in the dark suit who didn’t even have a hair out of place.
The guard dropped his baton and raised his hands in surrender.
Arthur didn’t care. He stepped forward, grabbed the man by the armored chest plate, and violently hurled him backward. The guard flew across the room and crashed headfirst into a heavy steel bulkhead, knocking him out cold.
The room went quiet, save for the hum of the engine and the groans of the guards.
Arthur let out a slow breath. He rolled his shoulders. His muscles ached slightly from the sudden burst of the multiplier, but he felt good.
He turned his attention to the front of the room.
The conductor was backed up against the main control console, trembling violently. His eyes were wide with sheer terror. He looked at Arthur like he was looking at a demon.
"Please," the conductor begged, holding his hands up. "I just drive the train! I don’t own the cargo! Don’t kill me!"
Arthur walked slowly toward him. His polished shoes clicked against the metal floor plating. He didn’t look angry. He looked entirely bored.
"I don’t kill the staff," Arthur said smoothly.
He grabbed the conductor by the collar of his uniform. He didn’t hit him. He just casually dragged the terrified man toward the shattered rear window of the cockpit.
"W-what are you doing?!" the conductor shrieked, his boots scrambling uselessly against the floor. fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com
"Corporate restructuring," Arthur replied.
He hauled the man up to the jagged edge of the broken glass. The harsh, toxic wind of the wasteland whipped into the cabin. The ground was blurring past below them at Mach 2.
"You’re fired."
Arthur casually tossed the conductor out the window.
The man’s scream faded rapidly into the roaring wind as he tumbled out into the desert. He would probably break a few bones when he hit the dirt, but he would live.
Arthur dusted off his hands. He turned away from the window and walked up to the main control console. The panel was covered in glowing, complex runes and manual levers.
He didn’t know how to drive a train. But he knew how to manage a system.
He placed his bare hand flat against the glowing runes of the console.
"System," Arthur commanded in his mind. "I have physical access to the mainframe. Initiate hostile takeover. Give me the wheel."
[Ding!]
[Establishing direct connection to external locomotive mainframe...]
[Bypassing local security firewalls.]
[Connection established. Host now has full administrative control of the Iron Convoy.]
