Out in the open, the battle was in full swing.
With a roar, a red dragon nearly crashed directly into Fel’s yacht, but Fel whacked it with a greatsword about as big as herself, batting it aside long enough for her airship to slip past. She took one glance at the chaos ensuing all around them and shook her head.
She called out to Sir Jared, still battling three dragons on deck. “Chief! We gotta go!”
“No! I will not abandon ship! I will stand my ground to the bitter end!” Sir Jared proclaimed bravely in a voice like thunder. “To the very last!”
“Okay, bye!” Fel replied cheerily, and her airship zipped away from the thick of the fighting.
Sir Jared spluttered, but then a concerted charge by two dragons bowled him over and he went rolling right off the deck of his airship.
Stubbornly, he pulled a little grappling hook from his belt and threw that over the deck railing. He tugged himself back onto the deck, dashed over to where he’d dropped
The survivors of the Temple Knights Expedition gathered around an odd dinner table laid out in the middle of nowhere surrounded by wreckage. Sir Jared, Sir Fate, Sira Fel, and Sira Damnaith were sitting around the table with Mindy, each looking sorrier than the last, and none as gloomy as Damnaith. But that last part was normal. Bright side? The chicken survived more or less intact. Fel’s maids were serving it to their guests with pride and gusto and much cleaner hands. Also, one of them managed to find a jar of cranberry jam to go with it. It was actually meant for turkey, but at this point, nobody was complaining. All around them, the knights’ survivors made camp. And around the camp… well… They were surrounded. Tier 6 and 7 Wilds had encircled them and bared fangs were on every side. On occasion, if a soldier got too close, or if one of them felt like it, they’d take a snap or two, often almost taking a good bite out of somebody. But those
Sir Fate glanced at Sir Jared. “What do you think?” Sir Jared grunted. “It’s a bit early, and it’s a bit far, but it looks like we have no choice.” Hearing that, George relaxed a bit, but Darian, on the other hand, tensed up. “What are you planning?” “Isn’t it obvious?” Sir Jared shrugged. Turning to his knights, he said, “Attack!” With a roar, sixty knights in various states of injury immediately charged at the surrounding Wilds. “What the-?!” George blinked. “They’re trying to break out!” Darian leapt aside to avoid a brandished broadsword, kicking it clear out of the attacking knight’s hand and seizing it for himself. Before he could counter, a nearby tiger chomped down on the knight, biting off one whole arm entirely, and then a python lunged atop the fellow and had him for dinner, armor and all. Darian got clear and took one glance at the berserker knights. “It’s a diversion!” While the knights charged mindlessly i
“How did that happen?” Mindy protested as they climbed out of a hole. “Think of those Grand Temple Knights as Tier 7 humans.” Remian suggested. “That should give you an idea of how strong they were.” “That strong?” Mindy gaped. “Don’t look so surprised. You’re not too far off, yourself.” Remian pointed out. “But I have a bond with the Flame Emperor, and we’re rather close to her location right now. Also, she’s currently awake, which means I’m more powerful now than ever. They… how did they get so strong?” Mindy asked. “Darian should know better than me. He’s as strong as you are, and he doesn’t have any such special bond that I know of.” Remian pointed out. “How DOES he get so strong? Comparing Darian to the likes of Max and Marcus is like…” Mindy shook her head. “Comparing Tier 6 to Tier 4 Wilds? Exactly.” Remian nodded. “My little brother is growing up…” “Your little brother is tying up a girl with ropes.” Mindy point
One Tier 7. Four Tier 6. One surprising Tier 5. [STOP THEM!] this was the gist of the Psionic chorus from the crowds of Wilds. A mass of Psionic attacks flooded the field. The Tier 5 Spectre basically disappeared as it was engulfed. The other Spectres roared, a roar without sound, and those soundless roars left waves in the air that visibly struck everything they came across. “Get down!” Mindy tugged him as she ducked under another Psionic barrage from a particularly enthusiastic bear. The Tier 6’s were battered backwards, but the Tier 7 surged forward. In the distance, loud roars shook the air as the Tier 8 and the Flame Emperor fought, filling the skies with smoke and the ground with tremors. Closer to their position, the Tier 6’s were battered back and flailed against the barrage of Psionic power from the assembled Wilds. Remian focused on the oncoming Tier 7, which looked somewhat like a semi-transparent scaly jackal with tusks rou
“Now that we’ve figured out the logical solution, how about a crazy idea?” Remian asked. “How crazy, exactly?” Mindy perked up. “Get me to the Rift and I’ll try to close it.” Remian told her straight out. “That’s crazy!” George yelped immediately. “But it’s a great idea!” Mindy contradicted. “It’s just that… well… how are you going to close it?” “I’ve actually been studying space magic.” Remian paused. “I can’t promise to succeed, but at the very least I can take a look, and then we can go back and figure out a way to close it for good. Otherwise, the Spectres will just keep coming through.” George grimaced. “But considering the circumstances…” Remian shook his head. “The circumstances are as good as they’re ever going to get. Right now, our enemies are few, and our friends many. It’s still possible to break through or slip around them. Later, when there are more of them and the fighting has stopped, it would be much, much hard
This was not a good time to be dropping in on alien worlds. Remian had his hands full trying to figure out spatial magic and closing the Rift. He had family and friends to worry about, an invasion by high Tier ghosts, and a girlfriend who would most definitely worry about him if he disappeared on her. Had this happened back when he was first starting out in the Frontier, Remian might actually have welcomed such a sudden adventure. But now? Of all times, NOW?! “I have to get back.” Remian whispered. He summoned ambient mana… Only to find that there wasn’t any. There wasn’t a single drop of mana in the air for as far as his senses could reach. Not even an inkling. “What…?” Remian glanced up at the men flying on swords. “Then how…?” Maybe it was some different form of magic? Something other than the Law Magic and the Chaos Magic that Remian had encountered before? Or maybe a different sort of power, like Psionics or Martial Energy
Tim was spying on Asda from her attic when word reached him via long-range Psionic messaging. [Remian WHAT?] Tim blinked at Mikai. Far below them, Asda was crying and complaining to her kitchen staff. “But I haven’t had cheese in MONTHS!” “None of us have, your majesty. We’re all very aggrieved about it.” The chef said apologetically. “We keep ordering more and more, but the deliveries all just… disappear.” Tim shot Mikai an accusing look. Mikai only replied with a sheepish grin, half-guilty, half-sympathetic. Poor Asda. If anyone understood a hopeless yearning for cheese, a lynxmouse would. Mikai even looked sorry for her. [Maybe we should go easy on raiding their cheese. Just once.] Tim scratched his head. Meanwhile, there were the other concerns to consider. Tim thought it over, ran ideas of Spectres and Wilds in his head, pondered over how to stop a Tier 8 Spectre and then consulted the experts. Turning to Mikai, he asked,
Scorched Earth City in the Soaring Crane Country was officially a major trading center but was better known among cultivators as a Treasure Hunting hub. The reason for this was its proximity to the Forbidden Ruins, the Red Mist Forest, the Well of Stars and the Twin Crag Mountains, all of which were premium treasure hunting locations. During this point of time, the talk of the city was the upcoming Cloud Mountain Tournament. This was the rare ten year intake of new disciples for the Cloud Mountain Sect, and only people below the age of thirty who achieved Innate Qi stage (or higher) were qualified. Naturally, the Prosperity Trading Center opened up betting on the results of the Top Ten Registrants. A lot of heated debates and heavy bets were placed between the top two contestants; Zhao Heng, who was the second son of the City Lord, and Xue Yueli, also known as Big Li. No, she wasn’t really big, but she had a Very Well Known Younger Sister that she called Litt
Somewhere along the line, he’d lost consciousness. George only realized it when he woke up to a splitting headache. “Ow.” He groaned. “What... where...?” “We’re on the way back to Sorrel.” Grace told him, appearing by his bedside. And it was a bedside, he realized. He seemed to be in the Kara’s Medical Bay. “I’m sorry. We had to retreat.” “Our... people?” George managed. “The HAC Troopers made it back. The Mechs... did not.” Grace paused. “We have the refugees though. And the Robotic Assembly Plant for Mining Drones. That’s all they managed to grab.” George slurred. “Mech pilots?” “Alive, if battered.” “Good. Alive is good.” George sighed. “This... didn’t go so well.” “Hey, at least we got the guys we were trying to save, and some machinery on top of that. You might say it was a success. A costly one, but a success.” “Casualties?” George asked. “Plenty of injuries to go around, but no deaths. So far.” Grace paused. “Some of the really badly injured might change that before lo
“Were these really the best you could do?” George asked, eyeing the six hulking figures in front of him hesitantly. “Mmm.” Juni grunted. In front of them were six brand new Mechs. 2nd Generation products, they were armored weapons platforms on legs, with jumpjets for the signature ‘jumps’ that earned their generation the nickname, ‘Jumpers’. Or were they? George wasn’t entirely sure. When he looked at them, they really looked more like 1st Generation Walker-types. Those Jump Jets seemed to be an afterthought, an added equipment haphazardly strapped to their backs. “Would they really work right?” Juni shrugged. Given the time and materials he had to work with, George supposed he couldn’t expect better. He had only just received 2nd Gen tech. Until now, he’d been working with 1st Gen expectations and schematics. One of these Mechs seemed a bit worn, evidence that it had been built quite some time ago, and only recently been modified for George’s requests. “Fusion Cell for power, Pu
It turned out that they also needed to acquire salvage rights to haul away ‘scrap metal’. Fortunately, that was a simple affair now that they had local currency. 50 USD and the matter was done. Grant, being the nearest specialist on matters of scrap to their location, graciously offered to transport their ‘scrap’ directly to their vessel out of sheer goodwill. Finally Benny and Sam went to try out the barbecued skewers. At Grant’s recommendation, though, they didn’t go to the Starport roadside stall. They ended up at another roadside stall run by a ‘foreign refugee’ someplace downtown not too far from Grant’s workshop. There, each skewer was loaded with rows of thick, juicy beef sausages, and only cost 20 USD for 10. Benny stretched. “Not bad for our first day. We’ve got three days here, don’t we? But we’ve already got half of what we wanted.” “What’s the other half?” Sam asked. “Technical manuals on engineering, power and propulsion. Tech, basically.” Benny yawned. However, whe
“Black Fang, you are cleared for docking. Follow the designated path and welcome to Trifer, colony of the Uber States.” Benny stood on the observation deck of the Black Fang below the bridge, listening to the conversation between the comms officer and the dock authorities. He eyed the massive sprawl of structures and smoke emitted below and wondered. “This is what they call a ‘small’ colony?” The colony was bigger than Craggy Falls, Kara-Goth and Nightshade City put together. “Just how many people live here?” Benny asked next. “According to our sensors, about half a million.” The bridge crew told him. Okay, that was less than the human population of the Sorrelian Migration, which, after including the Cumin survivors, was over 800,000. They shared the sensor feed with Benny, Sam and Foxy. Looking at the scope, Benny realized that most of the colony below consisted of machinery and robots. Furthermore, what he saw on the surface wasn’t even half the colony. The entire complex went
That evening, Benny and Sam left with Tim’s battle group, headed for the nearest Uber States outpost with medicine in the cargo holds. This left only one freight galleon to ferry materials and regretful space miners from the surface to Sky Haven. “It’s going too slow.” Remian decided. “I need to call Raven.” With Mindy busy trading across star systems, Raven had inherited (bought over) her airship fleet and company on the surface. They built more gunships and scout ships than freighters these days, mainly focused on providing recon and fire support to ground forces fighting Undead. But it was those freighters Remian needed now, the bigger the better. “We need them refitted for extreme high altitudes, as high as they can go.” Remian explained. “Also we need them spaceworthy, at least up to low orbit.” “You want our airship freighters to fly into space?!” Raven spluttered. “Yes, but not on their own. I want them to haul cargo and passengers as high up as they can. Around 30km woul
“Relax, I’m not asking you to build them from scratch. You’ll need to remodel a Galleon and a trio of our current Dropships. We do want proper Mech Carriers in the future, but for now, we need to deploy urgently, so we’ll just remodel what we have.” Ermine brought up some projections. “The Mechs in question are going to be Light Walkers, designed and built by J-Armory. Juni’s had a workable prototype for a long time, but it’s never been needed until now. Live testing is scheduled to start in three days. They’re powered by Fusion Cells, the kind that looks like dustbins, so you won’t need to worry about fuel lines, just cell-swapping. You won’t need to worry about replacing the He3 in the Fusion Cells either; spent cells will be sent back to J-Armory for recycling or refueling or whatever it is they do. Same goes for the weapons; Jamie’s J-Arsenal will handle maintenance and replacement and all that. The ship only needs to carry the Mechs, deploy them, and run basic maintenance. Repai
They met online the next day. Remian opted out, letting them handle it. Upon bringing up the subject of the Woofers’ request for more aid across different planets… Ermine snorted. “I refuse.” “What?” George stared. “I refuse to help them.” Ermine said stoutly. “I know that you guys all have some sort of savior syndrome, and it’s something that Remian seemed to have passed down from the very beginning, the sort of meddlesome hero complex that has you all trying to save the world at personal cost, but I’m no hero. I’m Tau, and we’re practical survivalists. We simply can’t afford to go around saving everybody. We need all our strength and resources to save ourselves. As for the Woofers, as a collective, they are a Class 5 Star Civilization, a whole class more advanced and stronger than us. They have their own governments and their own fleets. Let the Woofers help the Woofers.” Xiao Yan cut in. “As you say, they are a Class 5 Star Civilization. Since you’re talking about praticality, t
“Go, go, go!” green light flared in the bay of the Dropship as the floor fell away. George and twelve other figures were unceremoniously dumped on the ground nine feet below. They landed with heavy impacts. George staggered, realizing the gravity on this world was at least twice what he was accumstomed to back home. For a moment, he regretted leaving his Frame back on the ship, but they were here to clear the bandits out from a city center, meaning tight spaces, narrow access points, and needing to take care to avoid civilian casualties. Or at least, that was the plan. George and his squad had been deposited on the outskirts of the city, at the very border of a suburban district. “Incoming!” someone yelled. George crouched as something exploded; the ground shook and chunks of dirt flew through the air. “Get to cover! Return fire!” George called, even though he wasn’t entirely sure where the attackers were, exactly. The guys diving behind nearby garages and a public toilet clued hi
Quite predictably, the first of those calls to reach Sorrel II was from their dear friends, the Woofers. Three Paws explained it. [This is from Kelso III. It’s an agrarian world, roughly eighty hours’ flight from here for our fleet. Local gang bosses have titled themselves warlords and suppressed the citizenry with brute force. They take whatever they want, and demand whatever payment they like, on pain of death or torture. Local law enforcement has been completely overrun and even planetary militia couldn’t save the settlements under their control. The best our local paws could do is contain the situation and prevent it from getting worse.] Remian sipped hot coffee. Eighty hours flight for the Woofers Fleet should mean a bit less than seventy for the Tau fleet. “That’s rough. But what’s the point of calling us here to tell us this?” [We can help them. Just one division of your fleet could make a huge difference against these local gangs.] At the moment, the Sorrelian fleet consist