The view from the Spire was sickening.
Elara stood before the main holographic screen, her hands clenched so tightly that her knuckles turned white. Beside her, Ciro—now clad in the terrifying matte-black Stealth Suit—stood like a statue of judgment, his face hidden behind the obsidian glass visor.
Outside, the sun was high and brutal. The heat waves shimmered off the white glass bridge like mirages.
But it wasn't an army of tanks charging the gate this time.
It was a procession of misery.
Five hundred people. Men, women, and children. They were emaciated, their skin burnt by the Ashlands sun, dressed in rags that barely covered their sores. They were chained together by heavy, rusted iron links that clattered against the pristine ground.
They shuffled forward, their bare feet bleeding on the hot glass.
Behind them, safely out of range of the Tesla Towers' lethal arcs, rolled the tanks of Warlord Krog. The Iron Eaters were walking among the slaves, using electrified cattle prods and barbed whips to drive the human herd forward.
"A meat shield," Ciro's voice came through the helmet's modulator, cold and metallic. "He knows we have lightning. He knows we can vaporize machines. So he brought something we can't shoot."
"ALERT," AURA's voice cut through the tension, purely logical and devoid of empathy. "UNIDENTIFIED BIOLOGICAL MASS APPROACHING PERIMETER. THREAT LEVEL: NEGLIGIBLE. OBSTRUCTION DETECTED. RECOMMENDATION: FIRE TESLA COILS TO CLEAR PATH FOR TARGETING."
"No!" Elara shouted, stepping closer to the screen. "Do not fire! Those are people!"
"CORRECTION," AURA stated without hesitation. "THEY ARE UNREGISTERED ENTITIES. IF THEY BREACH THE GATE, SECURITY IS COMPROMISED. TACTICAL ANALYSIS SUGGESTS 98% PROBABILITY THAT ENEMY COMBATANTS ARE HIDING BEHIND THE BIOLOGICAL MASS."
"I said hold fire!" Elara commanded, slamming her hand on the console to override the AI's firing solution. "That is a direct order!"
On the screen, a massive war-rig—a monstrosity of welded steel and spikes—drove up behind the line of slaves. Standing on top of it was Warlord Krog himself.
He was a mountain of a man, his body modified with crude, industrial cybernetics. One of his arms was a hydraulic construction claw, leaking oil; his lower jaw was replaced with rusted iron.
He held a microphone connected to a massive speaker system rigged to his truck.
"PRINCESS!" Krog's voice boomed across the wasteland, amplified to a deafening roar that shook the glass windows of the Spire. "OR SHOULD I SAY... QUEEN?"
He laughed, the sound grating like grinding gears.
"I SAW YOUR LIGHTNING SHOW. VERY IMPRESSIVE. BUT LET'S SEE HOW YOUR GODS HANDLE THIS!"
Krog signaled with his hydraulic claw.
The Iron Eaters whipped the slaves harder. The crowd surged forward, screaming in terror. They were pushed right up against the invisible energy shield of the main gate. They banged on the barrier, their faces pressed against the humming energy, their tears vaporizing against the forcefield.
"Open the gate!" a woman screamed on the video feed, holding up a starving child. "Please! He'll kill us!"
Elara felt bile rise in her throat. Her heart hammered against her ribs.
"If I open the shield," Elara whispered, her voice trembling, "Krog's tanks will fire right through the crowd and blow the gate mechanism."
"And if you don't," Ciro added grimly, "the pressure of the crowd pushing forward will crush the people at the front against the shield. Krog isn't attacking the wall, Elara. He's attacking your conscience."
"CHOOSE, QUEEN!" Krog bellowed. "OPEN THE DOOR AND SURRENDER THE TECH... OR WATCH THEM DIE!"
To prove his point, Krog grabbed a slave near the back of the line—an old man who had stumbled. With a casual swing of his hydraulic claw, he crushed the man's skull.
Elara flinched, looking away.
"He's testing you," Ciro said. He walked up to the console, standing beside her. "He thinks you're weak. He thinks you're a pampered royal who will crumble at the sight of blood."
"He's right," Elara whispered, tears stinging her eyes. "I can't kill them, Ciro. I can't be the monster they say I am."
"Then don't be," Ciro said.
He reached out and tapped the [MUTE] button on the comms uplink, ensuring Krog couldn't hear their planning.
"AURA," Ciro asked. "If I go outside via the lower vents, can the stealth suit bypass the visual sensors of Krog's army?"
"AFFIRMATIVE," AURA replied. "POLY-WEAVE SUIT ABSORBS LIGHT AND RADAR. HOWEVER, YOU CANNOT FIGHT AN ARMY ALONE. SURVIVAL PROBABILITY: 0.4%."
"I don't need to fight the army," Ciro said, checking the charge on his dual Vibro-Blades. "I just need to cut the chains. If the slaves scatter, Krog loses his shield. Then you can drop the lightning."
He turned to Elara.
"Open Maintenance Hatch 4. It's under the bridge structure. Too small for a tank, but big enough for me and Ghost."
"Ciro," Elara grabbed his armored forearm. "There are hundreds of soldiers out there. If they see you..."
"They won't see me," Ciro said. The black glass of his helmet reflected her worried face. "You draw their attention. Keep Krog talking. Make him feel like he's winning. Make him look at the Spire, not the ground."
He gently removed her hand from his arm.
"The Ash Queen needs subjects, Elara. Let me go get them for you."
Elara looked at the screen—at the crying women, the terrified men, the cruelty of the Warlord. Then she looked at her Shadow Commander.
She took a deep breath, pushing the fear down and letting the cold rage take over.
"AURA," Elara commanded. "Unlock Maintenance Hatch 4. Prepare the Drone Swarm for 'Crowd Control' protocols—non-lethal stun only."
She looked at Ciro.
"Bring them home, Commander. That is an order."
Ciro tapped his chest plate in a salute.
"At once, Your Majesty."
He turned and sprinted toward the elevator, moving silently despite the armor. Ghost rose from his spot. The wolf's scales shimmered, shifting color to match the floor—Active Camouflage. He vanished into the air, leaving only a faint distortion as he followed his master.
Elara turned back to the screen. She pressed the [BROADCAST] button.
"KROG!" Elara's voice, amplified by the city's massive speakers, echoed across the plains. It was steady. Imperious.
The Warlord paused, looking up at the Spire, grinning. "ARE YOU READY TO SUBMIT, GIRL?"
"You have made a grave mistake," Elara said, her eyes glowing ominously blue.
"AND WHAT IS THAT?" Krog laughed, revving his engine.
"You brought cattle to a slaughterhouse," Elara said coldly. "But you forgot that I am the one holding the knife."
She placed her hand on the console.
"And those people... are my citizens."