I couldn't help but let a bitter laugh escape my lips. "Sacrilege?" I spat, stepping forward with measured defiance. "I've spent a thousand years in Tartarus dreaming of this moment. You want me? Come and take me." My words were as sharp as the shard I clutched, its molten edge pulsing with barely contained fury.
Marlik's expression was unyielding as he unsheathed a pair of finely crafted knives, their edges glinting in the intermittent light. His stance was poised, every movement honed for battle. "Stephen, the enemy is armed with more than swords—they wield steam-driven pistols and gear-loaded rifles. We must fight smart and fast."
I surveyed the approaching horde. The soldiers moved in precise formations, their clockwork mechanisms ticking in time with their every step. Steam hissed from hidden vents in their armor, and the sharp report of steam-powered firearms punctuated the heavy silence. A thick, acrid scent of oil and burning metal filled the air. In the distance, I saw a cluster of soldiers manning a large, gear-operated cannon that belched plumes of scalding steam and sparks, its massive form a testament to the raw mechanical power at their disposal.
I shifted my stance, every muscle coiled like a spring ready to unleash. "Marlik, cover me," I ordered, my voice steady even as the adrenaline surged through my veins. I advanced toward a wall where ancient mechanisms still lay embedded, their brass conduits and interwoven gears whispering the secrets of their function. If I could just tap into the forge's energy—redirect its power against them—I could turn this battlefield into an inferno of my own making.
As the first volley of steam-powered gunfire rang out, I dove behind a collapsed column, narrowly evading a hail of scalding steam and shrapnel. The divine soldiers were relentless. I could see one aiming his rifle with clockwork precision, the barrel whirring as it loaded another shot.
Marlik's blades flashed as he engaged an enemy, his strikes fluid and merciless. He ducked under a wild swing, countering with a precise slash that severed the gears in the soldier's arm. Sparks erupted as the enemy staggered, his weapon arm now useless.
I returned fire with my own blade—a shard transformed into a spear of molten steel—and clashed with an enemy whose brass sword met mine with a resounding clang. Heat radiated from my weapon, and with a vicious twist, I melted through his guard. He barely had time to register the loss before collapsing, the scent of scorched metal thick in the air.
Between clashes of steel and bursts of steam, Marlik's voice rang out: "They're coming in too fast!"
I pressed my back against the cold, soot-stained wall, my heart hammering in my chest as the roar of the forge mingled with the pounding of approaching boots. The ancient machinery vibrated with a stubborn life, its gears clashing in defiance, as I raced against time. Amid the chaotic ballet of sparks and shadows, I spotted a rusted lever, half-concealed in the tangle of iron and debris.
Gripping a hefty gear, I lunged forward, feeling the lever's pitted metal bite into my palms. With every desperate push, the lever fought against its own rusted inertia, creaking and shuddering under my strength. The air was thick with the scent of burning metal and imminent danger.
Then, through the clamor of the forge, I caught sight of movement—a lone soldier emerging from the haze, his rifle raised and eyes glinting with lethal intent. My blood ran cold as I realized he was aiming for me, his trigger poised to silence my rebellion.
"Hands where I can see them," the soldier ordered, his voice unwavering.
I stood still, my hands on the lever, my mind calculating the distance between us, the fraction of a second it would take for him to pull the trigger.
"Don't make me speak twice. My orders are to take you in—dead or alive."
Everything slowed. His hand moved from the barrel to the trigger. I blinked.
But in that split second, Marlik was there—a blur of motion in the chaos. Before the soldier could release his aim, Marlik's shot rang out, a precise punctuation that cut through the tension. The soldier staggered, a look of shock frozen on his face as he crumpled into the shadows, his threat extinguished before it could reach me.
"Don't just stand there, come help me," I shouted, my voice slicing through the din of chaos. I wrestled with the rusted lever—a stubborn, jammed sentinel that had defied my earlier attempts. Its unyielding resistance was maddening, as if it were holding back secrets only I could decipher. The forge's familiar drone still echoed around us, unaware of the subtle, dangerous shift I had engineered with my futile earlier pulls.
Marlik didn't hesitate. He vaulted over the still-warm body of a fallen soldier and landed beside me, his eyes wide with concern. "We need to move," he said urgently, his gaze flicking toward the horde closing in.
"We must get to higher ground," I said, determination hardening my voice.
He frowned, scanning the tumultuous scene. "Higher ground? Why now?" he demanded, confusion lacing his tone.
I pressed my fingers against the cold metal, feeling for that hidden catch—a secret I alone understood. "Within a few minutes, this whole place will explode," I replied, my voice low but resolute.
Marlik's eyes flickered with uncertainty as he searched mine for answers.
"One!" I counted over the noise of rumbling machines.
Marlik nodded in readiness, his muscles tensing.
The relentless clamor of enemy footsteps spurred us on. More soldiers emerged from the shadows, their presence a stark reminder of the ticking clock. "No time, now!" I shouted, my command slicing through the rising tension.
With one final, desperate effort, I gripped the lever tighter, my hands on top of Marlik's hands, willing it to yield. At last, the lever relented, descending with a long, creaking groan that resonated through the space. The forge went quiet for a moment, and then a faint, altered hum resonated—a sound only I recognized as the precursor to the impending catastrophe. Marlik's eyes darted around, his breath coming in sharp bursts.
The divine soldiers faltered, their formations disrupted by the sudden surge of raw energy. But they regrouped with terrifying speed. One elite soldier, his armor more ornate and his weapon a fusion of a razor-edged sword and a steam-powered pistol, stepped forward. His eyes burned with fanatic zeal as he bellowed, "By the decree of our steward, this site is an abomination. You will be purged. Surrender the blacksmith dog or face obliteration!"
My boots scraped against cracked stone as I leaped up the spiraling staircase, Marlik close behind. The building groaned under our weight, a skeleton of iron and fractured stone threatening to collapse with every step. The bitter tang of rust clung to the air, mixing with sweat and gunpowder as echoes of shouted orders reverberated below.
"They're gaining on us!" Marlik's voice cut through the din, his rifle cradled against his shoulder.
A burst of gunfire cracked through the narrow stairwell, ricocheting off the rusted railings. Stone chips sprayed into the air, one slicing across my cheek. I ducked, the rounds missing my head by inches. "Keep moving!" I barked. "We're almost there!"
But "almost" was a dangerous lie. The staircase twisted upward into darkness, every flight a gauntlet of splintered beams and unstable footing. The thudding boots behind us grew louder—Divine soldiers in relentless pursuit, their shouts blending with the mechanical screech of worn gears below. The forge's altered hum, now a frenzied wail, pulsed through the ruined structure like a heartbeat on the verge of failure.
I risked a glance back as Marlik spun around, rifle raised. The sharp crack of gunfire filled the air, followed by a strangled cry as one of the soldiers crumpled, tumbling down the steps. The others surged forward, undeterred, their fanaticism outweighing fear.
"We're outnumbered," Marlik hissed through gritted teeth. He fired again, forcing our pursuers to momentarily scatter.
"Just keep shooting," I growled, gripping the hilt of my sword. The weapon gleamed faintly, its edge honed for moments like this—where survival was measured in blood and steel.
Another soldier lunged up the steps, bayonet glinting in the dim light. I met him halfway, parrying the thrust with a screech of steel. Sparks flew as our blades clashed, the impact reverberating up my arm. The soldier's face twisted in rage, veins bulging against his neck as he pressed forward, trying to force me back down the staircase.
I gritted my teeth, muscles straining. Twisting my wrist sharply, I wrenched the soldier's blade aside before driving my own sword through his chest. Hot blood spattered against the cracked stone, and the soldier gurgled before collapsing, his body vanishing into the darkness below.
"Move!" I snapped, yanking my blade free.
We surged upward, the building trembling beneath the relentless violence. Wooden planks groaned, splitting under the weight of the fight. Marlik reloaded on the move, his practiced hands steady despite the madness around us.
"They're too close," Marlik warned, glancing over his shoulder. His voice carried an edge of frustration.
I didn't need to look back to know he was right. I could hear them—grunts of exertion, the metallic jangle of armor, the pounding of boots on brittle stone. I knew the type of men chasing us: disciplined, ruthless, and fanatically loyal to the gods. They would not stop. They would not hesitate.
A soldier vaulted up the steps behind us, sword drawn. Marlik spun, slamming the butt of his rifle into the man's face. Bone crunched, and the soldier staggered backward, blood gushing from a shattered nose.
"That won't stop them," I muttered, forcing my burning legs to move faster.
"No," Marlik agreed grimly, "but it felt damn good."
The air around us thickened with smoke and dust as another explosion rocked the structure below. The forge was falling apart. If we didn't reach the top soon, we'd be buried in this tomb of rust and fire.
We reached the final flight, the top floor looming just ahead—a shattered expanse of cracked tiles and broken beams open to the sky. Wind howled through the gaps, carrying with it the acrid stench of burning metal. My chest heaved, lungs burning from exertion.
"We're here," Marlik gasped. "Now what?"
I didn't answer. The stairwell trembled beneath us as the sound of boots hammering against metal steps echoed up behind us—soldiers closing in fast.
"They'll break through any second," Marlik warned, casting a frantic glance toward the barred door we had barely managed to secure.
The door shuddered violently as fists and the butts of rifles slammed against it. The iron hinges squealed under the pressure, bolts straining to hold.
"We're out of time," Marlik muttered. His voice was tight, the edge of desperation creeping in.
The air was thick with tension, broken only by a deep, resonant hum from above. Shadows flickered across the ruined floor as wind whipped through the cracks. I looked up, my heart sinking.
An airship loomed above us, its divine insignia gleaming coldly against the night sky. Ropes swayed from its hull, and armored figures prepared to descend.
"Shit," Marlik muttered bitterly. "They brought the whole damn cavalry."
I weighed my surroundings calmly. "Be ready."
The door banged louder. The airship ascended.
Marlik's eyes darted to the edge of the platform. "I don't think this is the best spot to find ourselves in."
The barred door shuddered again, splinters flying as the soldiers struck harder.
"Wait!" I said calmly.
The airship ascended, the door banged. I cringed close to the edge. Marlik followed.
Within seconds, the rooftop would be swarming with soldiers—boots pounding against stone, gun barrels glinting like steel vipers in the fractured light. The airship's engines roared at us, it was now at eye level, its guns swiveling to lock on. Swiveling with mechanical precision, hungry for a target.
Every path was sealed, we were cornered.