The wind carried ash across the broken highways of the Commonwealth.
Harry stood on a hill overlooking the ruins of Boston. Twisted skyscrapers clawed at the sky. Rusted cars lay scattered like skeletons. In the far distance, vertibirds cut across the horizon.
His Pip-Point flickered, scanning.
FACTION SIGNAL DETECTED: Brotherhood of Steel
A small smile touched his lips.
So the knights of steel survived.
A patrol moved through the rubble below—power armor units, disciplined, precise. The emblem of the Brotherhood of Steel shone on their pauldrons. Laser rifles hummed. A scribe scanned pre-war debris for technology.
Harry dropped from the hill.
He didn't land with a crash.
He landed silently.
The ground cracked anyway.
The Brotherhood soldiers snapped into formation, weapons raised.
"Unknown power armor signature!" one shouted. "Identify yourself!"
Harry's armor shimmered—ancient runes glowing faintly across indestructible plating. Their scanners malfunctioned instantly.
"Technology beyond classification," the scribe whispered.
Harry raised one gauntleted hand.
"Expelliarmus."
Their laser rifles flew from their hands as if yanked by invisible cables.
Shock rippled through the squad.
"What kind of weapon system—?"
"It's not a weapon," Harry replied calmly.
"It's magic."
A vertibird roared overhead, spotlight cutting down through dust. More Brotherhood knights deployed, led by a Paladin whose armor bore heavy scorch marks from past battles.
"You will surrender that armor and submit for technological evaluation," the Paladin ordered.
Harry tilted his head.
He stepped forward.
The Paladin fired first.
A burst of laser energy struck Harry's chest plate—
—and vanished.
Not deflected.
Not absorbed.
Erased.
Harry lifted his wand.
"Protego."
A dome of shimmering force erupted outward, knocking every armored soldier off their feet without damaging a single one.
He did not come to slaughter.
He came to establish dominance.
He walked through them slowly, unstoppable, the sound of his boots echoing against shattered pavement.
"I do not seek your destruction," he said. "But understand this."
The sky darkened unnaturally as clouds twisted above him.
"I am not pre-war technology."
Lightning struck beside him.
"I am not Enclave."
Another strike split the highway.
"I am not Institute."
The Brotherhood's comms crackled with panic.
"I am the last wizard."
In orbit above, long-range sensors aboard an aging Enclave satellite registered an impossible energy spike.
Deep underground, Institute terminals flickered.
In hidden bunkers, Enclave command began searching for the anomaly.
And far below the earth…
Vault doors trembled.
Because every code in the wasteland now belonged to one man.
Harry turned his gaze toward the distant airport—where the Brotherhood's airship loomed against the skyline.
The Prydwen.
A fortress in the sky.
He smiled beneath his helmet.
"Let's see," he murmured, "if steel can withstand sorcery."
And with a crack like thunder—
He Apparated.
To be continued…