The surgery was barbaric.
Kieran stood over Vanguard in the shadow of a smokestack, the air thick with the smell of welding ozone and burning flesh.
The General lay on a slab of concrete, motionless. His right arm—the one that held the sword—was intact. But his left arm, the shield arm, had been stripped down to the bone.
In its place, Kieran was grafting the Magma Pump.
It was a heavy, cylindrical device, ribbed with cooling vents and connected to a fuel tank strapped to Vanguard's back via thick, black hoses. It looked less like a weapon and more like an industrial accident waiting to happen.
"Hold still," Kieran murmured, his Decompiler hand glowing violet.
He pressed the pump's intake valve against Vanguard's shoulder socket.
[Script: PATCH (v.1.2)] [Target: Vanguard (Unit 01).] [Component: High-Pressure Magma Caster.] [Compatibility: 45% (Unstable).]
"If he fires that thing for more than ten seconds," Spam warned, scanning the heat signature, "his internal temperature will boil his own blood. He is literally a walking oven."
"He doesn't need to live forever," Kieran said coldly, fusing the metal to the bone. "He just needs to live longer than the gate."
Kieran finished the weld. He stepped back.
"Rise."
Vanguard sat up. The servos whined under the new weight. He stood seven feet tall, clad in black iron plate. On his back, the fuel tank sloshed with liquid slag. His left arm ended in a charred, blackened nozzle that dripped glowing orange liquid.
Vanguard looked at his new limb. He revved the pump. A gout of flame licked the ground.
"Ready," the General rasped.
"Good," Kieran checked the timer on his HUD. "Cycle 42 begins in ten minutes. We move now."
***
The Rust Gate was a monolith of iron and spikes, rising fifty feet into the smog. It blocked the only bridge leading into the inner sanctum of the Rust Sprawl.
Guarding it were two Rust Centurions.
They were massive constructs, half-humanoid, half-tank. Their lower bodies were treads, their upper bodies heavily armored torsos wielding autocannons. Normally, a shimmering blue energy shield protected them.
But as Kieran and Vanguard watched from a pile of scrap 200 meters away, the fortress klaxon sounded.
HOOOONK.
[Alert: Cycle 42 Initiated.] [Flushing Coolant Systems.]
Steam erupted from the Centurions' vents. The blue energy shields flickered and died. The massive machines slumped slightly, their sensors dimming as they entered maintenance mode.
"Now," Kieran whispered.
He didn't run. He walked.
He walked straight down the center of the bridge, Piston Arm dragging. Vanguard walked beside him, the magma pump humming.
They covered fifty meters before the backup sensors on the gate tower picked them up.
[Intruder Alert.] [Sector 4 Breach.]
A spotlight snapped onto them.
"Centurions! Reboot!" a voice screeched over the intercom.
The Centurions jerked awake. Their eyes flashed red. They tried to raise their autocannons, but their systems were sluggish, still flushing heat.
"They have a 5-second boot lag!" Spam yelled. "Hit them before they shield up!"
"Vanguard," Kieran pointed at the left Centurion. "Burn it."
Vanguard charged. He didn't run like a man; he ran like a locomotive.
The Centurion on the left managed to level its cannon. BOOM. A shell exploded on the bridge, shrapnel pinging off Vanguard's armor. Vanguard didn't stop. He closed the distance.
He raised his left arm.
"PURGE."
FWOOSH.
A stream of liquid magma, heated to 3,000 degrees, erupted from the nozzle. It hit the Centurion dead center.
The machine shrieked—a sound of warping metal. The magma splashed over its sensors, melting the glass instantly. It flowed into the cannon barrel, fusing the mechanism. The Centurion flailed, blinded and burning, turning in circles as its treads melted into the asphalt.
The second Centurion turned its cannon toward Vanguard.
"Eyes on me," Kieran snarled.
He activated [Lag Step].
He skipped reality, vanishing from the bridge and reappearing in mid-air, directly above the second Centurion.
He fell.
He aimed his Piston Arm downward.
[Ability: Pneumatic Impact.]
KA-CHUNK.
Kieran punched the top of the Centurion's head.
300 pounds of hydraulic steel, accelerated by gravity and mana, slammed into the robot's cranial unit.
CRUNCH.
The head caved in. Kieran rode the machine down as its knees buckled. He didn't stop. He grabbed the shattered neck plating with his claw and ripped it open.
"Deconstruct: Gyroscope."
With a thought, he severed the balance module. The massive Centurion tipped over and crashed onto its side, treads spinning uselessly in the air.
Kieran jumped off the wreckage.
"Gate!" Kieran yelled.
Vanguard turned from the burning wreck of the first Centurion. He aimed his magma nozzle at the massive iron doors of the fortress.
He unleashed the entire fuel tank.
The stream of fire hit the gate. The iron turned red, then yellow, then white. Rivets popped like gunshots. The metal began to sag, turning to liquid.
"Warning! Vanguard Critical Temperature!" Spam alerted. "He's cooking inside his suit!"
Vanguard's armor was glowing cherry-red. Smoke poured from his helmet vents. But he didn't stop. He held the trigger down until the fuel tank ran dry.
CLICK.
The flame died. Vanguard fell to one knee, steam hissing from his joints.
But the job was done. A hole, ten feet wide and dripping with molten iron, had been melted through the gate.
Kieran walked past his overheating General. He patted Vanguard's shoulder pad. The metal was hot enough to burn skin, but Kieran's metal hand didn't feel it.
"Rest," Kieran ordered. "Recharge."
He touched Vanguard.
[Command: COMPRESS.]
Vanguard dissolved into violet light, returning to the tattoo on Kieran's back to cool down in storage.
Kieran stood alone before the breach.
Through the melted hole, he could see the Inner Rust Sprawl. It was a city of vertical slums, neon lights, and misery. And standing on the other side of the gate were dozens of Lady's Scrappers, waiting for him.
Kieran lifted his Piston Arm. He revved the hydraulics.
"Knock knock," he whispered.
He stepped through the fire.