Gravity is a cruel mistress, but hydraulic pressure is a serial killer.
Luna and I slid down the steel cable of the service elevator, burning our leather gloves with every meter. The dark shaft hummed with the vibration of the monster outside.
At 700 meters high, the Corcovado swayed. The Christ statue, now blind and lobotomized, oscillated like a stone pendulum.
"Brake! Brake!" Luna screamed as we saw the light of the elevator cab (which we stopped on the floor below) approaching too fast.
I used my Tractor Tire Rubber soled boots to clamp the cable. Smoke rose. The smell of burnt rubber mixed with ozone.
We stopped with a jolt on the roof of the cab.
I opened the hatch and we fell inside.
The doors opened at the terrace level.
The chaos outside was biblical.
The cultists of the Church of High Tide weren't fighting. They were running in circles or throwing themselves off the cliff, screaming that the "Great Wash" had arrived.
Valéria and Gristle were defending the truck against a group of Gladiator Crabs (two-meter crustaceans with rusty swords in their claws).
"Get in!" Gristle roared, decapitating a crab with her cleaver and kicking the carcass away. "Valéria said the sea disappeared!"
"It didn't disappear," I ran to the back door of the truck, pushing Luna inside. "It retreated to gain momentum."
I looked at Guanabara Bay.
It was a sight that defied sanity. The bay floor was exposed: a plain of black mud, oil tankers broken in half, and ancient whale bones. Fish thrashed in the mud.
And on the horizon, a wall of gray and white water was growing. It was already taller than Sugarloaf Mountain. And it was coming fast.
"Valéria!" I banged on the cab partition. "Escape route! Petrópolis Mountain Range! Now!"
"The Red Line is clogged with debris!" Valéria shouted, starting the engine which roared like a wounded beast. "I'll have to take the old viaduct! Hold on!"
The truck peeled out, running over two cultists trying to grab the bumper for salvation.
We sped down the winding road descending the Corcovado.
The descent was dizzying. Valéria took the curves with millimeter precision, drifting the armored rear dangerously close to the abyss.
Behind us, the Christ the Redeemer statue was the first victim.
The air shockwave—preceding the water—hit the top of the hill.
The statue's right arm snapped off. The head, where I had operated minutes ago, exploded.
"Here she comes!" Luna pointed out the rear window.
The wall of water hit the city below.
It wasn't like in the movies. There was no "splash."
There was disintegration.
The South Zone buildings, already weakened by the rising sea level, were pulverized. Concrete turned to sand in seconds. The water didn't go around obstacles; it went through them.
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"We're too slow!" I shouted. "The wave is climbing the slope!"
We were on the viaduct connecting the Rebou?as Tunnel to the north exit. The viaduct shook.
The muddy water, carrying cars, trees, and pieces of shopping malls, licked at the support pillars.
"The engine is at max!" Valéria retorted. "Can't go faster without melting the pistons!"
I looked at the mana control panel.
There was a reserve. The energy I drained from the Petroleum Sirens and the Jetskis. It was dirty, toxic energy, but it was potent.
"Gristle! Take the wheel!" I ordered.
"I don't know how to drive! I'm a cook!"
"Just keep your foot on the floor and don't hit the walls! Valéria, come back here! I need you to open the direct fuel injection!"
Gristle jumped into the driver's seat, gripping the wheel with her massive hands. The truck swerved, scraping the side against the guardrail, sparks flying.
Valéria ran to the rear, where the exposed engine (an easy-access mod) was located.
"What are you going to do?"
"Emergency transfusion." I placed my glowing purple hands on the engine cylinders. "I'm going to inject pure necrotic mana into the combustion chamber."
"That will melt the engine block!"
"We only need it to last three more minutes!"
The Parasite hissed in protest, but obeyed.
[ENERGY TRANSFER INITIATED. PROTOCOL: MAGIC NITROUS.]
The purple mana flowed from my hands into the engine.
The truck shuddered. The sound of the engine changed from a roar to a high-pitched scream.
Blue fire shot out of the exhaust pipes.
"HOLD ON TO YOUR WIGS!" Gristle screamed.
The truck shot forward.
The acceleration pinned us to the seats.
We gained speed, turning the heavy armor into a ten-ton projectile.
We flew over holes in the viaduct. The truck jumped ten-meter gaps, landing with crashes that almost broke my teeth.
Behind us, the viaduct began to collapse. The wave had reached the pillars.
The asphalt vanished into the abyss of toxic foam seconds after we passed over it.
"The Mountain Road!" Luna pointed.
The climb up the mountain range was just ahead. Solid ground. Solid rock.
But there was a final gap. The connecting bridge had fallen.
There was only a twenty-meter empty space between the viaduct and the mountain road.
"We're not gonna make it!" Valéria shouted.
"Yes we are!" Gristle floored the accelerator until the metal bent. "Orcs don't brake!"
"Luna!" I looked at her. "Sonic propulsion! Now!"
The truck hit the broken ramp.
We jumped.
We hung in the air, defying gravity and common sense.
Down below, the tsunami roared, waiting to swallow us.
Luna opened the back door, pointed the baton backward, and screamed.
Not a song. A pulse of pure kinetic force.
BOOM!
The sonic recoil pushed the truck in mid-air. We gained the missing two meters.
The front wheels hit the edge of the mountain road.
The chassis hit the rock. The truck skidded, sparks flying, dragging its underbelly on the asphalt until it stopped, smoking, fifty meters from the edge.
The engine died. Melted.
We sat in silence for a second, hearing only the metal ticking as it cooled.
Then, the sound of destruction reached us.
We stumbled out of the truck and looked down.
Rio de Janeiro didn't exist anymore.
There was only a churning sea of brown foam and debris. Christ the Redeemer was gone. Sugarloaf Mountain was just an isolated island being lashed by waves.
And in the middle of that new ocean, the colossal shape of the Leviathan emerged.
It didn't look like a fish. It looked like a squid mixed with a dragon, covered in shells resembling sunken cities.
It let out a roar that made the mountain tremble beneath our feet. A whale sound, amplified by end-of-the-world magic.
"He's not attacking," I observed, wiping blood from my nose. "He's marking territory."
The Leviathan dove back down, creating a second, smaller wave.
Valéria collapsed on the asphalt, trembling.
"My city..."
Gristle put a hand on her shoulder.
"It's his pool now, girl."
I looked at the monster. The Parasite vibrated with a mix of terror and respect.
[SCALE ANALYSIS: TITAN CLASS.]
[RECOMMENDED STRATEGY: DO NOT FIGHT IN WATER. EVER.]
"Arthur," Luna whispered. "Where do we go now? The truck is dead. The city is dead."
I turned my back to the sea. I looked at the mountains of Petrópolis, where the lights of an old imperial city shone, protected by altitude.
Up there, the old nobility and the new warlords must be watching the show from the VIP seats.
"We go up," I replied. "Petrópolis is the only safe place. And where there is safety, there are scared people. And scared people need doctors."
I kicked the truck's flat tire.
"Besides, we need a new engine. And I heard the Emperor of Petrópolis has a collection of old cars powered by magical steam."
"Steam?" Valéria raised her head, mechanic eyes glinting slightly. "Tropical steampunk?"
"Something like that." I extended a hand to help her up. "Volume 4 just started, Valéria. And we still have a lot to dissect."
"What the Hell???"
We started walking up the dark mountain road.
Behind us, the sea roared, owner of everything low.
But we were going high.
