Chapter 520 – Game of Cat And… Armor?

Asterios placed his palms at the edge of the table and leaned over the map. “Have they gone insane?”

Next to him, Grea’s figure shook a little, and she withdrew the technique she’d been using to track the spiritual signatures. Even without her constant input, the already spotted dots remained in place, which was good enough, as the targets they were scrying didn’t intend to move. Bryn quickly moved closer to support the demon woman, who rubbed her forehead while coming down from the spell’s whiplash.

“You are asking if a group of dwarves who colluded with the enemy of not only their race but the entire fucking realm to secure a seat of power are mad enough to sacrifice most of their kin just to remain in that position?” Grea smirked weakly. “I would say the answer couldn’t be more obvious.”

She waved off Ast’s concerned gaze when he glanced her way.

“We can’t let them succeed.” His expression grew stormy. “Umbra—”

~Already on it, Master,~ the shadowy lord replied before he could finish his thought. ~I’m just picking up the last of the marked caches. Should I destroy them in a safe environment?~

Asterios pondered it for a moment, then shook his head. “No. They might come in useful at some point, either as evidence of their unhinged crimes or somewhere else.”

“We should replace the retrieved flasks with fake ones and return the boxes to the sewers,” Grea suggested, recovered enough to stand without support. “Who knows if they are sending someone to keep the bombing sites maintained or not. At the very least, they might inspect them when they realize things are not going their way.”

~I shall get in touch with our allies and do just that,~ Umbra said and left to handle the task.

During the silence that followed, Bryn let out a strained sigh. “It’s fortunate that we decided against a forceful approach. Direct confrontation might have spooked these cowards enough to trigger their failsafe early. The consequences of that would have been dire. And not just for those living there…”

Grea picked up on her meaning and winced while shooting Asterios a somber peek. “Yeah… A certain Dragon softie would have blamed himself over it for months…”

“I wouldn’t be the only one.” He stepped closer to press a chaste kiss to her forehead. “Nevertheless, even our current strategy could have ended up with the same result if you and Abyss hadn’t pointed out this scheme. We owe you two a great deal.”

His red-skinned mate sported a slight, darker blush over her cheeks as she nuzzled her face into his neck. “Just doing my part…”

“And so am I,” Abyss added with a slight nod. “Observing things is what I’m good at.”

“Even so, we appreciate the involvement.” Asterios offered her an honest grin. “Now, I should better hurry up and return. But, before that, can I somehow get a copy of the underground tunnel layout with the cache sites marked?”

“Here, Master.” The gorgeous Valkyrie showed up by his side with two rolled-up pieces of paper in her hands. “I thought these might be of help to you.”

It was clear she had gotten and prepared these scrolls while they talked, showing a great deal of foresight. Accepting the fruits of her goodwill with visible gratitude, Asterios reached out to caress her soft cheek, and she herself leaned forward with a growing smile. He couldn’t deny his winged lover her own kiss, and they shared a few gentle pecks before someone tugged him back.

“Go. Before we decide to keep you here for something else.” Grea licked her lips impishly.

Rolling his eyes at that, Asterios donned his shadows once more, restoring them to the image he had crafted for the meeting, and he transferred himself back to Wintercrown. His arrival evoked a bit of a commotion, the resistance leaders remaining clearly on edge since his sudden disappearance. The good thing was, they weren’t kneeling anymore, and Noir didn’t seem intent on making them again.

“Do you recognize these?” Asterios asked with his altered voice.

The next moment, one of the crates full of alchemical vials emerged from the darkness next to him. A gasp echoed through the chamber as one of the men moved closer. Judging by his attire under the cloak, his craft might relate at least partially to the subject at hand.

“This is… Where did you get it? These two solutions shouldn’t be kept anywhere close to each other! Do you want to collapse this entire place on our heads?! The slightest tremor could send us flying!” The alchemist gesticulated wildly.

Asterios threw one of the scrolls at him. As the man opened the map, the others peered over his shoulder, their eyes widening with realization.

“Don’t tell me… These dots are all…” The noblewoman swallowed heavily.

“Judging from your reactions, I assume you had nothing to do with setting these up,” Asterios stated calmly. “However, I don’t think the alternative is that much better.”

“Those bastards!” A man in a laborer’s getup cussed vehemently. “Wait… This place…”

He pulled a waist bag to the front and perused in it until he procured a folded piece of parchment. Unfolding it revealed a much cruder map of the underground.

“I knew it.” The man growled, poking a finger at his map. “This is the route that our mining team took while heading for the warehouse. There is, or rather was, a cache just next to it.”

Someone inhaled sharply. “The drill must have struck the vials!”

All at once, the whole group began shouting and cursing the ruling clan, blaming the Rubytongs for the deaths of their comrades. It would most likely continue for minutes if Noir hadn’t smacked her palms together with a lot of might behind it, rattling the box Asterios had brought for show. The fear of getting obliterated shut everyone up, their eyes locked on the glass to see if the flasks survived the shockwave.

“Now you understand that we can’t act rashly anymore,” the cunning Dragon lady stated, moving to Ast’s side. “If our opponent is willing to go this far just to remain in power, there is no guarantee this is their final trump card. We should not make the mistake of assuming that they couldn’t do any worse at this point.”

A murmur traveled through the crowd, but most of the gathered were nodding along.

“We will continue to infiltrate the Clash of Forges according to Master’s designs. If you play your roles properly, you’ll see your goal achieved without more unnecessary sacrifices,” Noir added, measuring each of them with her fierce gaze. “And if you don’t… I’ll have you removed for obstructing my Master’s path…”

They shivered collectively under her very serious glare.

“We’ll… cooperate.” One person stepped forward, or rather, was thrust to the front as the chosen representative.

No one wished to incur the wrath of the beings standing in front of them.

Especially the female one.

“Good.” Asterios stored the dangerous box away. “For now, remain in hiding. Bid your time until my agents contact you again. Don’t drop your guard. We might require your assistance at any moment.”

The insurgents jumped when another woman unexpectedly materialized on his other side. They gaped at the cheery, animal-eared girl, who waved at them joyfully. For some reason, after interacting with the other two overwhelming existences, that joy made them feel even more in danger. Right next to them, she gave the vibes of a complete psychopath, enjoying gods know what kind of atrocities.

“Can we… keep this map?” The laborer broke the oppressive mood with his bold request. “It’s much more detailed than anything we have. It even depicts our secret shaft, damn.”

“Secret shaft?” Asterios hummed.

The man hesitantly presented both maps to him. “Before we targeted the warehouse, we aimed for the main fortress. We dug a tunnel right to the very edge. Unfortunately, we couldn’t get through the outer layer no matter what we did. Two of the most durable and enchanted drills were ruined before we abandoned the project.”

“The paper is yours,” Asterios said. “Study it thoroughly while you wait. Dismissed.”

The second the last word registered in their minds, the dwarves scrambled to escape. Miria pressed her furry palm to her lips, fighting down the giggle at the sight of numerous short-legged folk sprinting in all directions to the best of their stocky abilities. Soon, the secret meeting crossroads was empty, save for their trio.

“You did great staying undetected.” Asterios fluffed Miria’s hair, making the cute panthergirl purr adorably, his voice turning back to normal.

“I tried hard!” She beamed at him. “Noir taught me a lot about your abilities!”

He glanced at the person in question, catching her watching them intently, her fierce eyes focused on his fingers atop Miria’s head. Bringing his other hand up, he directed it her way, only for it to get slapped off its course with a stinging smack of a black-scaled tail.

“Don’t even think about it.” Noir let out a low growl, crossing her arms over her chest.

So, it was fine in the privacy of their own time alone, but in front of others, showing this kind of appreciation was still off limits.

“Let’s check out that secret tunnel before we let Truvi’s family know that the safety of their debut is secured,” Asterios began walking forward.

To his surprise, Miria hastily matched his pace to ensure that his hand didn’t fall off her head, pushing her ears more into his hands. Chuckling to himself, he continued on while doting on the sweet panther, a certain Dragon girl following after them with her arms still crossed, glaring at the duo intensely.

Some time later, they reached the end of the roughly dug-out path and stood in front of a flat, solid wall. It shone with the shade of polished copper, but they were sure it couldn’t be that. Otherwise, their new subordinates wouldn’t have struggled so much in their endeavor. And the evidence of that struggle was more noticeable on the reflective surface.

The dwarven equipment hadn’t caused more than some scratches on the sturdy barrier.

Asterios rested a hand over it, followed by Noir. They pushed more mana into their special sight pretty much at the same time. He didn’t gasp at the sight, but what he discovered was quite stunning.

“Whatever this mineral is, its spiritual conductivity is unbelievable,” his draconic partner mused. “Almost like we are staring at a living thing.”

“No wonder it felt impenetrable to the dwarves and evaded our scrying,” he commented. “It’s only an assumption, but I don’t think the original fortress was raised in this state. This thing reminds me of those unique Golems we spotted on the streets.”

“You think they refurbished the entire place with materials they got from your father?” Noir gaped at him incredulously. “I could understand a bunch of weapons, armor, even Golems, but considering that they kept at it for like two decades… There’s no way even his whole corpse would suffice to bolster the defenses of a mountain citadel.”

“There’s a lot we still don’t know about this.” Asterios kept grazing his fingers over the mysterious structure. “I’m certain of one thing. We need to be careful. If it were just us at risk…”

“We won’t let them hurt anyone, Master.” Miria pressed herself into his side. “We have Noir with us, no? She’s one of the smartest True Dragons, right? Some ugly dwarves can’t ever match her cunning plots.”

Noir turned to her, blinking slowly. The panthergirl’s vote of confidence came as a shock. But, she recollected herself in a blink, clearing her throat.

“That’s right. A bunch of inferior pests is easier to outmaneuver than children.” She glanced up at Asterios. “I’ll bring you to the heart of the fortress without fail, no meaningless casualties in our wake.”

“Don’t get swept up in her excitement too much,” he cautioned his partner. “We handle this together.”

Noir held his gaze for a moment, dipping her head slightly. “Together.”

※  ※  ※

Everything continued uneventfully until the date of the qualifier. The resistance hadn’t made any bold moves, and the Rubytongs hadn’t shown any signs of noticing the interference in their failsafe. Patriarch Garm sang praises about their creation, and Truvi backed him up with her grandma. They promised Asterios that he would be awed by the Power Suit’s full capabilities.

That said, he knew it wouldn’t be just yet, even as he and Noir stealthily moved towards the examination square. This was just a formality to take part in the main event of the Clash of Forges, therefore it would be unwise to display all of one’s tricks. In the end, these qualifying rounds were held in public, and you could bet on other families sending out scouts to gather as much information about their rivals as they could.

As for the testing arena, it took the form of a sizable square in the industrial district. The nearby buildings shielded the training grounds from vicious wind, and a durable tarp prevented snow from falling onto the beaten sands too much. A metal cage made of chainlink fence surrounded the main stage, a safety measure against any incidents that might take place inside.

When Asterios and Noir arrived, someone was already in the middle of their examination. A row of judges sat in a raised booth to get a good view of the field. It was made up of elders, and over a third of the group belonged to Rubytongs. That, and the staff handling the testing. It left many paths to result manipulation, but what could they do against tradition?

The current contestant didn’t put up much of a show. His prized creation, a weapon that looked like someone had welded four curved greatswords with their butts, barely scratched the Fe-Line the judges used for target practice. It was a thrown weapon which undoubtedly required a much stronger wielder. Or a contraption to launch it, as one of the inspectors pointed out. But, it was too late, and the lack of insight of the aspirant couldn’t be denied, making him leave in defeat and shame.

“That thing looked fancy, but I have a feeling it was hastily put together for this bonus round,” Noir whispered to Asterios as they stood in the corner of the cage while cloaked in shadows.

“I agree.” He nodded. “But, if they are using the winning creation from previous events as a base requirement to beat, then they are not making it easy.”

“It’s not a bad approach.” She pursed her lips. “As a whole, it’s a good means to keep growing as a community. If it was heeded the right way.”

“If it was, yes.” Asterios snorted. “And we both know how things are.”

They fell silent when Patriarch Garm strolled into the chain box with the Power Armor stomping by his side. The wielder’s movements seemed stiff and unnatural, making Asterios frown. His brows rose soon after as he realized that Truvi’s grandpa was aiming to hide the fact that this wasn’t an autonomous Golem. One glance at Noir confirmed that she had arrived at the same conclusion, and the two shared an impressed smile.

Their dwarf ally made a speech in front of the judges, explaining his creation. The Rubtyong’s side was not happy with another Golem challenging their masterwork, but the others were intrigued. Once again, the test was going to involve a Fe-Line as the target. When the draconic statue was ready, Garm shouted a command, and the bulky half-giant surged forward.

Shortly before it reached the much smaller construct, the Fe-Line went on the move, surprising everyone greatly. It shot forward too, slipping between the armor’s legs and swiping its enhanced claws over the scaly plates covering the shins, sparks and bits of flame exploding on contact. But, save for a few scratched lines, the defences held.

A dance between a very agile cat and a somewhat clunky person began. The former held the advantage in this bout, jumping around and swiping or biting at various assumed weak points of its opponent. It didn’t help that the wielder of the Power Armor tried their best not to make too obvious movements that would give up the ploy. Still, the assault he suffered was easily shrugged off by the materials used in the creation of this suit, which came straight from Asterios.

Thankfully, the suit’s rider wasn’t just a reckless warrior. He noticed the movement and attack patterns after a few clashes, adjusting his strategy. The next time the Fe-Line attempted the same set of actions, he was ready.

A gauntleted fist flew forward at a much higher speed than before, catching the metal cat mid-lunge. Fingers wrapped around its throat, and the man slammed the lithe Golem into the ground with a powerful quake. The cat kept scratching at his limb, the fiery core burning harder inside its chest, but the armor bearer remained unfazed, raining thundering punches down on the artificial beast repeatedly.

However, the quality of both Golems turned out to be closer than everyone expected. Even with such a heavy force behind those punches, the Hammertingle representative barely dented the Fe-Line’s outer shell. It caused frowns on the Patriarch’s and the Rubytongs judges’ foreheads, for different reasons.

Barking another command out loud, Truvi’s grandpa decided to go a step further, forced by the situation. The living armor drew back its arm, and with a loud shiing, a blade as wide and long as its limb slid out from above the wrist. Its core glowed crimson, just like the armor’s accents, both rising in intensity as more steam escaped through the gaps. Then, scarlet lightning arced over the sword, and it stabbed into the restrained Golem.

A small storm full of red bolts surrounded them both as the full brunt of that lightning flowed into the Fe-Line. People had to shield their eyes from the intense flashing that followed. A few seconds into the blinding spectacle, an explosion occurred, swallowing the contestants in a scarlet fireball, evoking numerous shouts. Fragments and pieces tinkled against the protective net.

When the obstruction faded, it revealed the smoking figure of the draconic Power Suit with its blade driven into the empty ground, now carved into a tiny, local crater. Besides a few scratches again, it looked relatively untouched. What couldn’t be said about the other Golem. Bits and pieces of the Fe-Line lay scattered all over the field.

Cheers erupted from the audience while Patriarch Garm twirled his beard proudly. And yet, the judges were arguing hard at their booth. The Rubytong’s side seemed to be the one pushing for something, perhaps unhappy about the result. Before that could be announced, they sent a messenger to Truvi’s grandpa, which made him scowl in disgust.

“They insist that it was a fluke. The Fe-Line got damaged during the continuous testing and couldn’t perform up to standards, going as far as imploding from strain,” Noir conveyed as she read the messenger’s lips. “There will be a retest.”

Asterios scoffed. “But of course.”

The assistant wheeled in a long, cylindrical object. Asterios had seen something like it before during his time on the sea. Military vessels were equipped with cannons that launched balls of iron at other ships. They were costly and couldn’t really compare against mages and other professions, so private vessels rarely used them.

This one, however, was big enough to need two bases along its barrel, which was sprinkled with a lot of gemstones. Sophisticated carved patterns riddled its entire surface. It was not the usual maritime weapon, for sure. As the helpers set it in front of the Power Suit, Patriarch Garm began sweating a little. He must be anxious about his man inside the armor. If it were just a Golem, even if it were blown into smithereens, it wouldn’t be as bad as the current prospect.

“It will hold.” Noir’s comment recaptured Ast’s attention. “I kept an eye on their progress, and I hate to admit it, but… they did a good job with the materials you provided them. Whatever this thing does, it will be all for naught.”

She managed to reassure him a tad, but he still couldn’t help but worry.

“Do you know if the suit needs its bearer to remain functioning?” he asked.

“Uhhh, as long as it has been activated first, it should be fine on its own when it comes to standing still at least?” She scratched her head. “Why?”

Asterios mirrored the ability she had shown him a few days ago and inflated the shadows making him invisible. Then, he waved his hand at the armor, and a short figure emerged from the darkness next to them. The sweaty dwarf wearing protective goggles, a white tank top, and matching shorts gaped at them in disbelief.

Moving a finger to his lips, Asterios instructed the man to be quiet, showing a conspiratorial grin.

The next second, a bright flash struck them as the cannon fired. A beam of energy was launched at the empty now armor, hitting it square in the chest. The amber pillar whooshed angrily as it continuously assaulted the draconic plate, heating it up rather quickly.

Noir’s fully open laugh reached their ears. “Fire cannon? Against Dragon-infused metal? They couldn’t have picked worse, idiots!”

Nearly a full minute passed before anything happened. The colorful gems embedded in the stationary weapon started popping one by one. Soon enough, the beam of condensed flames flickered out, the barrel looking like wet clay ready to be molded. Compared to that, the Power Suit was just coming down from the blaze, the red-hot onyx armor returning to its original shade. Copious waves of steam hissed outwards as the internal cooling systems expelled the excessive warmth properly.

“In you go.” Asterios bumped against the slack-jawed man next to him, who then dropped into the ground.

To his credit, the armor wielder regained focus fast and went through a few mechanical motions to show everyone that the Hammertingle creation was barely inconvenienced by the fiery challenge. As much as they tried to protest, the Rubytongs judges couldn’t go against their colleagues and the audience anymore. Two faulty pieces of equipment wouldn’t fly.

And with this, the place in the finals was secured.