Chapter 128: The First Blood

The neutral zone between the Forge and the Elven Sylvanate was a sprawling expanse of jagged rocks and dead plains. It was completely silent until the earth itself began to vibrate.

Chief Inquisitor Silas stood in the commander’s hatch of the lead steam tank. He gripped the brass periscope and stared through the reinforced glass.

Two miles ahead, the dense and ancient tree line of the Elven borders loomed in the darkness. He could clearly see the faint, shimmering green domes of Purist magic protecting their vanguard encampments.

"They think their ancient barriers will hold," Silas muttered over the heavy roar of the steam engine. He pressed a button on his headset, connecting directly to the artillery battalions rolling behind him.

"All units, halt advance!" Silas barked. "Lock treads. Angle the heavy cannons. Give me a thirty-degree elevation."

The massive convoy of iron war machines ground to a halt. The deafening screech of metal on metal echoed across the plains. Heavy gears clicked into place as dozens of massive artillery cannons aimed high into the night sky.

Silas drew his polished longsword and pointed it directly at the distant Elven tree line.

"Let them hear the roar of the Forge!" Silas commanded. "FIRE!"

The entire frontline erupted into blinding yellow fire.

Dozens of high-explosive artillery shells tore through the sky with a terrifying, synchronized shriek. Seconds later, the payload slammed directly into the Elven vanguard’s magical barriers.

The resulting explosions shook the sky. Green magical shields shattered like fragile glass under the immense kinetic force.

The arrogant Purist mages stationed at the border scrambled into a panicked frenzy, completely unprepared for the absolute devastation of modern siege warfare.

The decoy was set. The Elves were looking entirely in the wrong direction.

Deep inside the High Elven territory, miles away from the frontline bombardment, the primary supply camp was entirely peaceful.

Commander Ovaris sat lazily on a plush velvet chair inside the central command tent.

He was a high-born Purist Elf, adorned in pristine silver armor that had never seen a single drop of actual blood. He swirled a goblet of fine red wine, his face twisted in a bitter scowl.

"Incompetent fools, all of them," Ovaris sneered to his lieutenant.

"Lord Vane leaves me here to guard glowing rocks in the rear while the rest of the commanders get to slaughter the Goblin King’s primitive horde. It is an absolute insult to my lineage."

The lieutenant bowed nervously.

"Lord Vane only stationed you here because the mana crystals are vital to the war effort, Commander."

"He stationed me here because he wants the glory for himself!" Ovaris snapped, slamming his goblet down onto a wooden table.

"Go check the perimeter. Make sure the sentries are actually awake. The boredom in this camp is going to kill me."

The lieutenant bowed again and stepped out of the tent into the cool night air.

He walked toward the eastern watchtower.

The camp was massive, filled with hundreds of wooden crates overflowing with pure, high-grade mana crystals. But as the lieutenant walked down the main path, he noticed something strange.

The torches near the perimeter were extinguished.

"Sentry?" the lieutenant called out.

He received no answer. He drew his elegant silver blade and stepped into the shadows beneath the watchtower.

He didn’t even have time to scream. Kaelith dropped silently from the wooden rafters above. The elven assassin moved like a ghost.

Her twin daggers flashed in the moonlight, sliding perfectly through the gaps in his neck armor. She lowered his lifeless body to the grass without making a single sound.

Across the camp, the absolute slaughter had already begun in absolute silence.

A Purist mage stepped behind a tent to relieve himself. A massive shadow detached from the darkness.

Rolf clamped his massive jaws directly over the elf’s throat, tearing out his vocal cords before dragging the thrashing body into the bushes.

On the western perimeter, two heavily armed guards suddenly found their minds going entirely blank. Lysandra stepped out of the fog, her glowing pink eyes locking onto theirs.

She smiled sweetly, and the two guards obediently drew their own daggers and drove them into their own hearts, collapsing silently into the dirt.

Nyssa sat on a high branch overlooking the entire camp. She peered through the heavy scope of her Arcane Assault Rifle. She didn’t use explosive rounds.

She channeled pure, concentrated mana into the firing pin. Thwip. Thwip. Two silent, high-velocity magical bolts pierced the skulls of the remaining watchtower guards.

The camp’s defenses were completely dismantled in less than three minutes.

Inside the central tent, Commander Ovaris rubbed his temples in frustration. The silence outside was starting to irritate him.

"Lieutenant! I told you to report back!" Ovaris shouted.

He stood up and pushed past the heavy velvet flaps of his private quarters, stepping into the main storage area of the massive tent.

He froze.

A towering figure clad in heavy, crimson Ironclad armor was standing casually in the center of the room. The intruder was surrounded by dozens of massive crates filled with pure mana crystals.

Ovaris’s eyes widened in absolute horror. The intruder raised a heavy brass hand. A glowing blue runic array projected from a thick ring on his finger.

Swish. In a single, fluid instant, every single crate of mana crystals in the room vanished into the spatial inventory. The camp’s entire magical fuel supply was gone.

"You-" Ovaris gasped, instinctively reaching for the silver sword at his hip.

He never even drew the blade.

I crossed the twenty feet between us faster than his arrogant mind could process.

I clamped my heavy brass Vanguard Arm directly over his mouth, crushing his jaw and muffling his scream completely.

I lifted the incompetent Commander clean off the ground by his face. 𝘧𝘳𝘦ℯ𝓌𝘦𝒷𝘯𝑜𝑣𝘦𝓁.𝒸𝘰𝓂

My red eyes burned through the dark visor of my helmet. Ovaris kicked his legs wildly, his eyes filled with absolute, suffocating terror. He finally realized who had infiltrated his camp.

"You wanted to see the frontline, Ovaris?" I whispered coldly.

I squeezed my brass fingers.

CRACK.

Ovaris’s neck snapped instantly. His body went entirely limp. I tossed the dead elf onto the floor like a piece of discarded trash.

I reached into my spatial ring again and pulled out a heavy, blocky device made of thick iron and complex clockwork gears.

Nyssa and King Regent Hardsteel had designed it specifically for this raid. I placed the massive timed bomb directly in the center of the empty tent.

I twisted the heavy brass dial.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

"Five minutes," I muttered.

I turned and walked out of the tent. My pack was already waiting for me at the edge of the tree line.

We did not linger. We moved quickly and silently, scaling a high rocky ridge that overlooked the entire valley.

Four minutes passed.

Down below, a sleepy Elven soldier finally walked out of his barracks to switch shifts. He tripped over the headless body of a sentry hidden in the grass.

"INTRUDERS!" the soldier shrieked in pure terror.

The sound shattered the peaceful night. The camp’s heavy iron alarm bell began to ring frantically. Dozens of Purist mages and Elven soldiers poured out of their tents.

They drew their weapons and rushed frantically toward the center of the camp to protect their precious Commander and the mana crystals.

From our vantage point on the ridge, I watched them swarm exactly where I wanted them. A massive crowd of heavily armed elves gathered tightly around the central command tent.

"They are all grouped up," Nyssa noted, lowering her rifle.

"Right on time," I said coldly.

Down below, an Elven captain rushed into the command tent. He found Ovaris’s dead body.

He looked up and saw the heavy iron device sitting where the crystals used to be. The dial hit zero.

The explosion did not just rattle the valley. It temporarily turned the night into day.

A catastrophic sphere of red and orange fire swallowed the entire center of the encampment. T

he concussive shockwave ripped through the trees, flattening the wooden barracks and instantly vaporizing the hundreds of Elven soldiers who had gathered to respond to the alarm.

A massive pillar of black smoke and ash rose into the sky. The High Elven rear supply line was officially completely eradicated.

I looked toward the northern horizon, where the faint flashes of Silas’s artillery were lighting up the dark sky.

The Purist Vanguard was currently fighting for their lives against empty steam tanks, and they had absolutely no idea their magical fuel was gone forever.

"The decoy holds," I stated, pulling my Arcane Assault Rifle from my back and chambering a round. "Now, we hit them from behind."