Chapter 89
last update2024-08-12 22:47:52

This wasn't a regular house; it was probably a small warehouse. It had a two-story storage area and a small office, which would be his living quarters.

Just outside the warehouse stood this loading platform to help load and unload goods from carts and wagons.

For heavier items, there should have been a simple hoist above the warehouse door, but there was none. There might have been a crane operated from the catwalk, but that wasn't there anymore either.

Most of the building's space was for sto
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  • Chapter 679

    Caster heard the heavy, stomping boots of hundreds of Crimson Alliance shock troopers running up the metal stairs toward him. He looked at Elias Thorpe’s unconscious body lying in the hallway. Caster wanted to drag Elias out of the machine. He wanted to arrest him. He wanted to march down to the Central Combustion Chamber, rip the iron cages open, and set the innocent prisoners free. But he knew he could not. If he destroyed the giant engine right now, the massive explosion of red energy would vaporize the entire machine. The prisoners in the cages would burn to ash. To save the prisoners, he had to shut the machine down slowly. He had to stop the war from the outside first. He had to show the world the secret files he had stolen. "I will come back for you," Caster promised the innocent people trapped below. "I swear it."Caster turned away from the hallway. He looked at the thick metal wall of the intelligence room. He heard the guards shouting right outside. They were seconds aw

  • Chapter 678

    The intelligence room inside the Crimson Engine was suddenly bathed in blinding light. Elias Thorpe staggered backward. He raised his hands to shield his face. His one good green eye widened in absolute, naked terror. The swirling red energy in his left eye shrank back, hiding from the pure brilliance. Caster Spellbound stood in the center of the metal room. He was no longer a tired, broken old man in a dirty gray coat. His eyes were solid, burning gold. The light pouring from Caster’s eyes was not like the blue magic of the Sage Tower. It was not like the cold, dead fire of the Ash Warden. It was incredibly warm. It felt heavy, absolute, and undeniably real. It was the pure light of human truth mixed with the cosmic weight of a god. "What... what is that?" Elias Thorpe gasped. His voice shook. The arrogant, cruel smile was completely gone from his scarred face. "You burned your magical core! My spies told me you were empty!""I was empty," Caster’s voice echoed. It sounded like a

  • Chapter 677

    Caster placed the clear crystal next to the glowing red memory crystal on the desk. He placed his hands over both of them. He pushed his mind into the stones. He began to copy the files. He copied every single secret letter. He copied the treaties. He copied the blueprints of the soul-engines and the purple batteries. He transferred all the damning, horrific evidence into the clear glass crystal. "When the world sees this," Caster promised, his gray eyes shining with fierce light, "the soldiers will not fight each other. They will turn their guns on you."The copying process took time. The files were massive. Caster watched the clear crystal slowly fill with pulsing, swirling light. [Ninety percent.] [Ninety-five percent.] Caster heard a heavy footstep outside the metal door. His heart jumped. He looked at the door. [Ninety-eight percent.] The handle of the heavy metal door began to turn. Someone was coming in. Caster gritted his teeth. He poured more energy into the crystal

  • Chapter 676

    The moment their backs were turned, Caster ran. He moved with incredible, silent speed. He reached the heavy metal door. It was locked with a glowing red magical keypad. Caster did not have time to pick it. He closed his eyes. He reached into his chest. He let a microscopic, tiny drop of his golden magic flow into his fingertip. He touched the glowing red keypad. The pure, golden truth of his magic completely overrode the chaotic blood magic of the lock. The red lights turned green. The heavy door clicked open. Caster slipped inside and shut the door silently behind him. He was in the brain of the Crimson Engine. The room was large and dimly lit. The walls were covered in maps of the continent. Large, glowing red crystals sat on a long black metal desk. These were memory crystals. They held all the secret files, battle plans, and communications of the Crimson Alliance. Caster walked quickly to the desk. He placed his hands on the largest red crystal. He closed his eyes and push

  • Chapter 675

    Caster pressed his ear against the cold metal. He listened carefully. Over the loud, rhythmic sounds of the walking machine, he heard the faint sound of the guards marching away down the hall. He was alone. Caster knelt by the keyhole. He did not use the tiny golden seed of magic sleeping in his chest. He did not want to trigger any magical alarms. He used simple, human skill. He pushed the thin metal wire into the keyhole. He twisted it gently. He felt the heavy iron tumblers inside the lock. He closed his eyes, visualizing the mechanical shape of the lock in his mind. He pushed the first tumbler up. He pushed the second tumbler. He turned his wrist sharply. The heavy iron lock popped open. Caster smiled a cold, thin smile. "Magic is a crutch for people who forget how to use their hands," he whispered. He slowly, carefully pushed the heavy iron door open. It creaked slightly, but the loud noise of the engine covered the sound. He slipped out of the cell and into the narrow, r

  • Chapter 674

    The giant metal hatch slammed shut with a terrible, heavy sound. Caster Spellbound was thrown roughly onto the hard iron floor. His broken ribs screamed in pure agony. He gasped for air, tasting thick, hot smoke. The air inside the giant machine smelled like burning oil, rusted metal, and old, dried blood. He was inside the Crimson Engine. The walking mountain of death. "Get up, old fool," a Crimson shock trooper growled. The soldier kicked Caster in the side with a heavy steel boot. Caster did not fight. He played the part of a weak, helpless old man. He slowly pushed himself up to his hands and knees, groaning softly. His hands were covered in the cold, wet mud of the city courtyard. "Move," the soldier ordered, pointing a heavy brass rifle at Caster’s head. The glass tank on the rifle bubbled with sick, screaming red energy. Two soldiers grabbed Caster by the arms of his dirty gray coat. They dragged him down a long, narrow metal hallway. The entire hallway shook violently.

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