The transfer order arrived while Lyza was cleaning her scouting gear in the humid, overcrowded barracks of the Vanguard in Fort Haven. It was not a standard parchment; it was a formal Imperial Summons, delivered by a messenger wearing the crest of Fort Aegis.

  The room went silent as the messenger called her name. In the Empire, a summons to the forward command center usually meant one of two things: a suicide mission or an interrogation.

  "Lyza Dove of Sector 15?" the messenger asked, his voice echoing off the corrugated metal walls.

  "Present," she said, her heart hammering.

  "You have been reassigned. Priority Alpha. You are to report to Hangar 4 at Fort Aegis by 0800 hours tomorrow. You have been drafted into a Specialist Tactical Unit. Here are the details and the teleportation form for your transit."

  Her fellow scouts whispered as she took the tablet. One name was highlighted at the top of the digital file under Commanding Officer: Specialist Janus Vane.

  Janus? She stared at the name, re-reading it as if she was illiterate. He was alive. Not only was he alive, but he was a Specialist. The F-Ranker boy who had saved her life by sheer luck was already leading a unit.

  The next morning, the air at Fort Aegis was cold and tasted of jet fuel and ozone. Lyza felt small as she walked through the massive obsidian corridors of the command center. This wasn't like Fort Haven where she was still receiving her training. This was where the heart of the war beat.

  She found Hangar 4, a vast space filled with the roar of idling transport ships. Standing near a long-range recon vessel was a figure she almost didn't recognize. He was wearing a black tactical jumpsuit of reinforced fibers; his navy-blue hair, windswept and messy, had grown more than he usually allowed it, reaching his neck. He looked taller, his shoulders broader, but it was his eyes that stopped her in her tracks. They were sadder.

  "Janus?" she called out, her voice barely audible over the ships.

  He turned, and for a second, the hard mask he was wearing cracked into a genuine, tired smile. "Lyza. You made it."

  "They are calling you the Blue Revenant, Janus," she said, stepping closer. She scanned his new gear, tapping both his shoulders. "They say you wiped out a whole squad single-handedly. They say you were technically dead when you reached the gates, but the suit just wouldn't let you go."

  "They say a lot of rubbish, Lyza. People are talking like I’m an undead Lord. It’s like people like to get terrified for their own amusement," Janus said, his voice dropping. "I’m just glad I could get you to help me. I want to talk to you about everything that happened, when it’s just us."

  "And Rick? Is he coming?"

  Janus shook his head, a shadow of bitterness crossing his face. "He’s a Thorne. Apparently, I don't have enough 'pull' to recruit a Solar Sovereign."

  "Thorne's got enough pull for all of us if he wanted, but did he choose you?" a new voice rasped.

  A man stepped out from behind a stack of supply crates. He had hair the color of deep, stagnant moss and green eyes that looked like they had been forged in a cold furnace. A massive coil of rusted steel wire was draped over his shoulder, and he walked with a limp that didn't seem to slow him down.

  "Specialist Vane," the man said, nodding curtly to Janus. Then he looked at Lyza. "And the scout. I'm Cyrus."

  "Nice to…" Lyza started, but Cyrus was already looking past her.

  A young Lieutenant, resplendent in a clean, decorated uniform, marched toward them, looking annoyed that he had to walk through the grease of the hangar. "You! Specialist! Why hasn't this transport been cleared for departure? The schedule was set for five minutes ago."

  Janus was caught off guard and started stamering, but Cyrus stepped forward. He didn't bow. He didn't act like a drone. He simply pulled a small, grimy handbook from his vest and began reading in a flat, mocking monotone.

  "According to Imperial Mandate 23-B

  The Lieutenant’s face turned a bright, angry red. "Don't get smart with me, soldier. I have a directive from…"

  "I don't care about your directive," Cyrus interrupted, his voice like grinding metal. "I care about competence. If you can't read the manual, don't walk on my flight deck. Now, back to your desk before I report you for obstructing an Alpha-Priority mission."

  The officer sputtered, realizing he was being made to look like an amateur. He turned on his heel and stormed off. Cyrus watched him go, then spat on the floor.

  "Idiots with shiny buttons. They will get us all killed just to meet a deadline other idiots stipulated." He turned back to Janus, his expression unreadable. "Just one thing: I do not tolerate bullshit orders. If I think you are being an idiot, I will tell you. If you ignore me, I will let you die. I do not care about promotions anymore. I care about coming home alive. Got all that?"

  Janus looked at Lyza and then nodded. "Okay."

  "So, ready to go, Specialist? Or are we waiting for another Noble to tell us how to breathe? Board the ship. The pilot is already in place."

  They flew for twenty minutes until they reached the drop point. Cyrus went down the rope first. Lyza taught Janus how to descend, and then she followed. The airship flew away immediately after dropping them.

  As soon as they were alone, Cyrus spoke. “So, the report said you read the mind of a dead Dwarf and got the information that they had left a hidden cache of equipment and fuel. I am going to be honest. I think you lied through your teeth and the higher-ups are so desperate for any good news that they bought it. I do not want to waste our time looking for something that does not exist while being shot by snipers. I suggest we find a cave, hide, and wait until we can call the ship back. This way, we do not die in vain."

  Lyza saw Janus’s face, it was a mixture of annoyance and disdain.

  “Look, dude. You can do whatever you want. I’m going to do the mission I said I would do. I didn’t lie. If they moved the hidden cache, that’s on them, but I know where it is, why they keep it there and even the password.”

  Cyrus and Lyza both said, surprised, “Password?”

  Stolen novel; please report.

  “Yeah, as I wanted to do the mission, I didn’t say anything about the door password. If they sent other people, they wouldn’t be able to enter.

  They were silent for sometime and then Cyrus burst out loud laughing. “Boy, you are MAD. This kind of gamble gets people killed. I usually act like an ass, I know. I’m aware people hate me. But even I don’t gamble like this. OK. There’s one thing I like about you already. You have balls. Now, let’s look for this cache.”

  Janus led them forward. Every so often, Lyza moved ahead to scan the area, signaling them forward when the coast was clear. After fifteen minutes, they entered a cave and reached what looked like a dead end. Janus stopped in front of a stone wall. “It is here.”

  He crouched in a corner, pushed a hidden plate, and a console appeared. He typed the code, and the wall rumbled upward. Inside were five mobile suits and enough Aether-Fuel to power the entire hangar at Fort Aegis for a week.

  “I don’t think it’s much, here it is,” Janus said, shrugging.

  Cyrus slapped the back of Janus’s head. “Specialist Vane. You really are an ignorant whelp. You know nothing.”

  “Hey! Why are you being mean?” Lyza defended him. “Did we do anything wrong?”

  “Because his ignorance infuriates me! You think this is not much? The Empire is fighting many wars, Scout Dove. Some wars we started just to get resources for the wars we were losing. We are running on fumes. Every drop of Aether-Fuel is precious. But that is not even the biggest prize. We have never captured a complete mobile suit. When a Dwarf dies, the suit recognizes it and fries the circuitry. But these? These are in pristine condition. Five suits, three different categories. We just need to get them home.”

  Cyrus presses a button on his jacket in a pattern. “I sent a call for the airship to get us because we got the cache. Let’s take it outside.”

  “How?” Janus asked.

  Lyza facepalmed. “Come on, Janus. Did you not read his file? He controls metal.”

  “Controls metal? That’s the crudest explanation possible, although true,” Cyrus complains. He extends his arms in the direction of the tanks and the suits, and they all lift from the ground. “Some people have Cores in which the Mana produced has a great affinity to something. They don’t need Sigils to control things. Maybe that's what you have with dead people. That’s what I have with Metal.”

  While they walk carrying everything outside, Cyrus continues. “You know how each city in the Empire is focused on one war, right? The city which controls the war against the Dwarven Conglomerate is Kabarn, which I guess it’s where you are from, right?” After they confirm, he continues. “I’m actually from Gilbra. The weakeast people from Gilbra, that join the army, are sent here to help against the Dwarves. I'm terrible creating Sigils, so I have the impression that they expected me to die here. But when I started getting a little more powerful, they sent me to fight against the zombies of the Tyranny of the Flesh."

  Cyrus sighed. When he started talking about himself, he was nostalgic, but he wasn't showing any negative emotions. But now, his voice was spilling with the spite of a person betrayed many times.

  "Let me tell you, the higher-ups, you think they want what's best for the Empire. Bullshit. Most nobles and high-Ranked people just want to further their power, and sometimes I get the impression they even want to destroy the Empire. I've ignored many stupid orders that had killed my whole squad. Sending me to fight against zombies was a stupid order that I couldn't disobey, but it almost killed me many times. Thank the Emperor High Commander Marek seems to be different. He knew my powers are not so efficient against the Tyranny of the Flesh. Since my powers resonate so well with Dwarven gear, I was sent here. You guys are lucky to have me on your team.”

  Lyza saw that Janus looked thoughtful. “Everything all right, Janus?”

  “I'm just thinking about what he said,” Janus said. “Also, the memories I acquired are difficult to decipher. I am anxious.”

  They waited at the cave entrance until the ship arrived. It descended low, the ramp opening. Janus saw High Commander Marek on the ship with a wide grin. “Specialist Vane, you will be our golden goose! I already ha–”

  Before Marek could finish, a missile struck the airship. It erupted into a ball of flame. Marek and the crew were engulfed instantly as the ship crashed in a heap of burning wreckage only meters away.

  Three mobile suits emerged from a corner, half a kilometer away.

  “Goddamnit, I wanted to go home soon,” Cyrus said, his tone merely annoyed. “I am calling for another ship. Let me show you why they summoned me to help you, Specialist. You owe me one.”

  Cracking his knuckles, he exited the cave. One of the mobile suits began firing in their direction. Cyrus extended his left hand, and the bullets ricocheted off the air as if hitting an invisible cone. He extended his right hand, making a twisting motion with his fingers. Half a kilometer away, the firing suit was lifted into the air and crushed. Its legs twisted one way and its torso the other until the metal screamed and snapped.

  The remaining two suits deployed their blades and charged at full propulsion. Cyrus met the charge with a casual downward strike. Both suits were instantly flattened by an invisible force, their frames crumpling into scrap.

  “Piece of cake,” Cyrus said.

  Lyza whispered in Janus’s ear. “This guy is terrifying.” Janus agreed, his power was terrifying. If he wanted, he could turn Janus's weapons and armor against him. Janus felt completely powerless near a companion, and he hated this feeling. And it was not just the power difference that terrified him. It was the nonchalance. To Cyrus, killing was like crushing bugs.

  Cyrus used his kinesis to drag the crushed leader’s suit to Janus. “This is their leader. Do your thing and read his mind.”

  Janus rolled his eyes, opened the cockpit and did his thing. He started manipulating his Unmana, covering it with his Mana. As Cyrus wasn’t studying him as he was being studied in the base, he didn’t make an effort to hide so much his Unmana under his Mana.

  “That’s the most disgusting Mana I’ve ever felt,” Cyrus remarked, nose wrinkling.

  The corpse opens his eyes, making Cyrus and Lyza jump back. Janus let out a dry chuckle, which the corpse mimicked in a terrifying unison.

  “Just a moment, I’m deciphering his mem – Oh SHIT!” The Dwarf Janus was controlling pushes Cyrus, knocking him sideways. A split second later, a thin, blindingly bright laser beam sliced through the air. It cut through the desert sand, Cyrus’s arm, and the arm of the puppet suit as if they were made of thin leather. Cyrus shout of pain, but doesn’t waste time, he scrambles to enter the cave.

  As Janus tries to run away from the corpse he was controlling while maintaining his control, he hears a constant thud that trembles everything around them. He felt the tether between him and the dead dwarf growing thin, but he used all his training to maintain it and ignore the noise of their doom getting louder. He stopped making his Unmana go through his Mana and inverted it. He started making his Mana feed his Unmana so he would be able to use more of it. After ten meters distance, he felt the tether stabilizing and now he was two people. While he entered the cave with his squad mates, his puppet was outside, but lying on the ground.

  Janus looks from the corner of the cave and confirms with his eyes what he knew from the memories he stole. “That’s a Mark-I Siege Breaker. Can you use your metal control to destroy it?”

  Cyrus smiles bitterly, clutching the stump of his arm. “If I can! … No, Janus, I cannot. Do you know what a Siege Breaker is? It’s one of the most powerful Mechas the dwarves have ever built. It’s technology surpassing magic. Only S-Rankers would be able to deal with that. We can only wait for them to go away. Thankfully, the Siege Breaker can’t enter the cave. I’m sending the base a message that we are being besieged by a Siege Breaker. So ironic.”

  If the smaller mobile suits were infantry, the Siege Breaker was a god of the mountain. Standing ten meters tall, it was a monolith of layered, soot-stained plating held together by rivets the size of a human head. Its chest was a massive, protruding furnace grate that leaked a hellish red glow, venting the immense heat generated by its twin Aether-reactors.

  The machine’s left arm ended in a massive, squared-off fist. With a shriek of grinding gears, a six-meter blade of refined mana-steel hissed out from the forearm. This was a retractable guillotine designed to cleave through fortress gates with a single swing.

  The right arm was a marvel of modular lethality. In an instant, the mechanical hand could fold inward as the forearm plating shifted and locked into place to reveal the cavernous, hexagonal barrel of a Heavy Laser Cannon.

  Hidden across its hull were several automated point-defense turrets. These were small, rapid-fire ballistas that peppered the air with lead to keep infantry from getting close. But its most terrifying feature sat atop its hunched shoulders: a secondary, needle-thin aperture. When activated, it emitted a high-frequency Piercing Laser. This beam was so concentrated it appeared as a mere thread of white light, capable of slicing through a distant battalion or a mountain peak with surgical precision.

  Each step of the iron giant, the trembling got stronger. Until it stopped near the entrance of the cave. They heard the sound of a microphone being turned on and the voice of a dwarf sounding loudly in the human tongue.

  “Humans. We want to parley.”