Kaelas let out a shriek of pure desperation, hopping around his ransacked lab bench like a cat that had its tail stepped on. The fox alchemist’s once-elegant robes were now a map of scorched holes and chemical stains; his right sleeve was still emitting a thin, acrid wisp of smoke. His signature gas mask hung lopsided, revealing a single bloodshot eye and a singed beard.
He gripped a glass rod coated in a black, gelatinous sludge, stirring a beaker with frantic, jerky motions. The substance inside hissed—a sharp, aggressive sound that set my teeth on edge.
“Too much sulfur! That stench of rotten eggs is an insult to the craft! When this burns, it just makes smoke and chokes the operator. It won’t even scratch the shells of those bird-men!” Kaelas roared, slamming the glass rod onto the stone floor.
I stood at the laboratory entrance. Despite the reinforced filters in my mask, the pungent acidic vapors clawed through, stinging the lining of my nostrils. I looked at the chalkboard, where Kaelas had scrawled a chaotic mess of alchemical runes and symbols, and frowned.
“Kaelas, look at me. Breathe.”
I stepped forward and tapped a corner of the board where I had sketched a crude, theoretical diagram. "I told you, I'm a civil engineer, not a chemical genius. My knowledge of advanced explosives comes from history documentaries. The concept is simple: treat plant fibers with strong acid to make them burn without smoke. That's all I have."
"A concept! You gave me a vague concept!" Kaelas shrieked, his voice laced with experimental mania. "Do you know how many cauldrons I blew up trying to guess your 'acid-to-fiber' ratio? "
He gripped a glass rod, his hands shaking. "I substituted your missing solvents with refined Fire-Salamander gland extract and highly corrosive bog-sap. It’s unstable! It’s a fickle whore—if my hand slips for even a millisecond—"
As if to prove his point, his hand, trembling from days of exhaustion, twitched. A single drop of eerie, fluorescent green liquid fell into the beaker of acid-soaked fibers.
Sizzzz—!
“GET DOWN!”
My pupils constricted. Rationality acted before my conscious mind could scream. I dove to the side, grabbing Lyn, who had been peeking through the door, and pinned her behind a thick stone pillar.
BOOM————!!!
It wasn't the dull thud people associate with explosions. It was a sharp, metallic shriek—a crack that tore through the air. A visible shockwave erupted from the lab bench. In an instant, the heavy iron blast door was ripped from its hinges like wet cardboard and sent spinning into the yard. The pressure wave swept outward, snapping a thick dead tree in the courtyard as if it were a toothpick.
When the ringing in my ears finally subsided, I looked up. There was no rolling black smoke. The air smelled of bitter almonds and intense, localized heat.
“Cough... cough...”
Kaelas crawled out from under a pile of shattered test tubes. His mask was split in half, and his face was a mess of shallow cuts, but he was laughing. It was a high-pitched, ecstatic cackle—the sound of a lunatic who had just peeked into hell.
“It worked... it actually worked!!”
He held up his hand. In the base of the pulverized beaker sat a small pile of pale yellow, semi-transparent granules. They caught the light like tiny, jagged gemstones.
“No smoke! Only fire! And the potency... It’s at least ten times that of black oil! Alex, do you hear that? That’s the sound of the old gods falling!”
“Finally...” I felt the tension leave my shoulders. I exhaled a breath of stale air. “Now Skyreach finally has teeth.”
Three days later. Secret range, North Fortress.
“This... thing is your ‘grand gift’?”
Zayla held a strange iron object in her hand. It was an MK-1 Fragmentation Grenade—a crude "pineapple" made of welded sheet metal and pre-scored steel shards, packed with the new powder. It looked industrial and ugly.
“Pull that ring, throw it at the target, and count to three in your head,” I said, pulling her behind a reinforced iron blast shield. I pointed to a cluster of straw dummies wearing old leather armor fifty meters away.
“Don’t hold onto it to contemplate life, Zayla,” I added dryly. My eyes were focused on the impact zone.
Zayla eyed the metal lump with suspicion. As a warrior accustomed to resolving problems with cold steel and mana, this small, magic-less trinket felt underwhelming.
She took a breath, hooked her finger in the ring, and yanked. Ssss— A tiny wisp of white smoke escaped the fuse.
“One... two...”
Her body unfurled like a hunting leopard, her arm whipping through a high-torque arc. The grenade traced a perfect parabola through the air, landing directly in the center of the dummies.
“Three,” I whispered.
BOOM!!
A savage flash of fire erupted in the center of the range. But it wasn't just fire. As the flame expanded, a ring of high-velocity, white-hot steel shards tore through the air—a saturated rain of death metal. In the time it took to blink, the leather-clad dummies were shredded. Wood splinters and straw danced in the air. Further back, solid wooden posts were chewed up, riddled with jagged holes.
The shockwave rolled over us, kicking up dust and blowing Zayla’s silver hair back. She stepped out from behind the shield, walking toward the crater. She picked up a piece of leather armor that looked like it had been through a meat grinder. This wasn't a blunt impact or a clean cut; it was a saturation of destruction.
“This is the prototype for the cannons,” I said, brushing dust from my sleeve. I felt the steady confidence of industrial dominance. “Make it bigger, put it in a barrel, and even the Storm Clan’s griffins will be nothing more than falling, featherless chickens.”
Zayla stared at the smoking crater. Her golden pupils locked onto the destruction. For a revenger who had seen her home burned, this pure, efficient violence was more seductive than any religion.
“How many of these ‘grenades’ do we have?” She turned to me, her gaze intense.
“Fifty in stock. As long as Kaelas doesn't blow himself and the lab into the stratosphere, we can produce a hundred a day.”
“Enough.” Zayla threw the shredded leather to the ground. Her feline instincts were in full hunt mode. “Give me twenty. And ten of my fastest Shadow Blades.”
I narrowed my eyes. “What are you planning?”
Zayla pointed to the eastern sky. Beyond the clouds, a Storm Clan floating supply station was cruising—a poison thorn hanging over Skyreach. “They’ve been circling us like we’re livestock for weeks. Alex, we have the fire of the gods now. Why stay in this shell? I’m going to take that station and free the kin held there!”
“No.” I didn't hesitate. “The anti-air guns aren't ready. The rifling on the muskets isn't finished. These are grenades, Zayla. You can't throw them hundreds of meters into the sky. If you provoke them now and bring their main fleet down on us, our current defense is made of paper!”
“More waiting! More building! More damn calculations!” Zayla’s frustration boiled over. She stepped into my personal space, the pressure of a fallen monarch radiating from her. “Alex! People are dying every day! Every second, my kin are fuel for those bird-men! You have this power and you want to wait for a ribbon-cutting ceremony for your cannons?”
She leaned in, her eyes red with a mix of fury and disappointment. “Are you afraid? Do you just want to sit in your pretty industrial city and play with your iron toys like a rich landlord?”
“I am being responsible for thirteen thousand lives!” My voice turned cold, saturated with a brutal, analytical logic. “War isn't won with blood alone, Zayla! It’s logistics. It’s supply chains. It’s a collision of total industrial output! Without air superiority, your raid is a suicide mission!”
“To hell with your calculations! To hell with your total output!” Zayla shoved me back with enough force to make me stumble. “I am the Queen of the Cat-kin. I only know that my people are bleeding. If you’re too cowardly to use the weapons you built, I’ll find my own way.”
She turned and walked away, her silver hair whipping in the wind. “Don’t stop me, Alex. Or we won’t even be allies anymore.”
The heavy iron gate of the range slammed shut with a reverberating thud, shaking flakes of rust onto the floor.
I stood alone by the crater, the scent of gunpowder still hanging in the air. I looked down at the blueprints for the MK-1 AA Gun I had intended to show her. My nails bit into my palms.
“Dammit...” I kicked an empty ammo crate. The sound echoed across the desolate range, feeling exceptionally lonely.
Question of the Day: Zayla is heading out for a rogue mission. What does Alex do?
?? A) Provide Over-the-Horizon Support.
If you can't stop her, give her a radio and a mortar team. Use her as a "live test" for the new grenades.
?? B) Send Brad to "Babysit" her.
Send the heavy hitters to ensure she actually makes it back. It slows down construction, but keeps the Queen alive.
?? C) Let her go. Focus on the Walls.
The cold engineer's choice. If she fails, the city must be ready to withstand the retaliation. Logistics comes first.
Follow and Rate for more industrial madness!