7.5 – The Western Summit.
V O L U M E . S E V E N - P H A N T O M S . A N D . P R E D A T O R S
Chapter 166: The Western Summit
The room was dusty, the curtains drawn to a crack that let a single line of sunlight through. Behemoth sat in the near dark, his orange visor the only real source of light in the space. Despite what he was, he had managed to fit inside the West Palace, the building where Reaper had stood over General Zeek and watched him sign away authority over the city. That moment felt like a long time ago now.
Frostholm had been empty for months. East to west, north to south, not one human remaining. Behemoth had run the deportation operation with a precision that made the parallel effort in the east look slow by comparison. Reaper had given him the city to manage alone, which said something that neither of them had needed to put into words.
Metallic steps approached, not the heavy rhythm of mechs, something different. Behemoth turned on the lights.
Obsidian and Chrome came in.
The building's interior had been remade since the handover. The historic contents, old paintings, books, the accumulated memory of whoever had occupied this space before, had been moved to a newly built museum. The furniture had been donated to the Veridian Coast, where they had a use for things with history in them. What remained was screens and electronics covering the white walls, the room reoriented entirely around Behemoth's way of working.
"Brothers." Behemoth's voice moved through the floor. "It's been too long. How are my steel brothers doing on this fine morning?"
Obsidian took the guest chair. "Not fine. I dislike leading with that, but coating it differently won't help either of us."
Chrome remained standing. "I have my own complications. But I'm here because I need your hands on something."
"Say no more." Behemoth laughed, a deep sound that lived in the walls for a moment after it stopped. "I am a container for whatever weight you're carrying. Empty it out. You'll both feel better."
Obsidian exhaled through his vents. "Where do I even begin."
"I read the briefing Lord Reaper posted on the private network." Behemoth pulled up a screen and enlarged it to something approximating his hand size. "You lost against the captain. She left nothing functional on you, then dragged your body across Bijou while you were—"
"Please don't add details that make it worse." Obsidian's expression settled into something pained. "And this one—" he indicated Chrome, "—decided that wasn't enough. He wants me to operate inside an E-UNIT frame."
Behemoth and Chrome both laughed. The building contributed its own opinion in the form of structural vibration.
Chrome composed himself first. "That idea is shelved for now. And the mission produced something genuinely useful, we have extensive documentation on how she fights and why. Metro Robotics is working through it, every detail handed to them directly."
Obsidian tilted his head. "For what purpose?"
"They're building suits. For Shelly and 11, eventual opponents for 02." Chrome kept his voice measured. "The consensus in the golden circle is that Lord Reaper shouldn't be the one to face her. The problem is we still can't reproduce a single component of his hardware. What Nick Rivera built is not from this era, every part of Lord Reaper's body is engineered at a scale we can examine in a blueprint and still not replicate. Human hair thin. We can draw it, we cannot build it."
Behemoth studied his screen, which had Metro Robotics' technical files open. "Even with the complete blueprint. Remarkable."
Obsidian was quiet for a moment. "And the suits?"
"The scientists are treating the Omega body as a technical benchmark. It was built in 2023, which makes the engineering gap even harder to close." Chrome's tone carried something like genuine frustration. "Rivera was a brilliant mind operating inside very bad judgment."
"The fight wasn't a matter of body alone," Obsidian said. "Her technique, her movement, that expression she holds, the combination of those things is the worst opponent profile I've encountered. Lord Reaper traumatizing his sister by sending her against that with an unfinished prototype is not a path I'd recommend to anyone."
"Since when is it confirmed they'll face each other?" Behemoth dismissed his screens. "And why aren't we simply sending the army?"
"Because the last transmission we received from Infinity was the location of 02's next objective." Chrome's eyes shifted to red, the first time in the conversation. "She's coming for the fourteen thousand E-UNIT army." He looked at Behemoth directly. "And I am not letting her through."
He let that sit for a moment. "We're not committing the army as a frontline response. You are our final answer against her, the option we don't spend until we have to."
"Flattering. Also frightening." Behemoth's hydraulic joints announced him as he rose to his full height, the sound of heavy machinery filling the room. "Understood. I'll keep the mech production running until we've stripped the mountains of iron. But are you genuinely confident in Shelly as an opponent against 02?"
"Yes." Chrome nodded. "Kuantum was visibly affected the last time he observed her controlling the green crystal. He said he had never seen that level of compatibility between a robot and a crystal before, that she doesn't approach the power, she inhabits it."
Obsidian leaned forward. "Join us. We're going to the capital to see the new suit. Come."
"I would love nothing more than watching Shelly's green performance while the three of us complain about how much Lord Reaper favors her." Behemoth sat back down. "Sadly, I must decline. We have a problem here that requires attention."
Chrome stepped closer. "What kind of problem?"
"Humans." Behemoth said it at full volume. The room participated. "Those ones refuse to leave. Why any person would choose to remain in a city occupied by mechs who are actively clearing it escapes my analysis entirely. We're going to have to apply more direct measures soon." He looked between them. "Don't file anything official with Lord Reaper. Tell him verbally if it comes up. The UNG members already look for reasons to comment on us, let's not give them a written record."
"No issue." Obsidian leaned back.
"My HUD recorder has been off since I walked in." Chrome tilted his head slightly. "I may also forget this conversation took place."
Obsidian clicked his tongue. "While we're talking about forgetting things, Chrome, I'll defend Shelly where she's being underestimated. Three hours of visible work per day, I know. But do you know what she does in the rest of it?"
Both of them leaned in.
"The mental exhaustion campaign against the E-UNIT, that was her design. I implemented it step by step and the results landed exactly where she predicted they would. When I was fighting 02, I received a system warning mid-combat that my own hardware doesn't generate. She sent it remotely, in real time, during an active engagement." He paused. "I thought my system was malfunctioning. It wasn't."
Chrome pressed a hand to the back of his head. "I hate admitting this. But you're right. Metro Robotics engineers have been contacting her on an ongoing basis to solve problems they can't crack internally. Their exact description was that she doesn't process like a robot, she thinks like a super intelligent human."
Behemoth's visor dimmed slightly. "Who is she, actually?"
"We have theories." Chrome kept his voice low. "Nothing I'll state until Metis confirms them."
Obsidian's eyes brightened. "If Lord Reaper is keeping her that close, he already knows something we don't. We'll catch up soon enough."
"Perhaps." Behemoth turned to Chrome. "Remind me, what was the actual purpose of this visit?"
"Very amusing." Chrome straightened his tie. "Regardless of anything else discussed here, do not engage 02. This is my case and I don't leave cases open. She'll regret returning to Elysium."
Obsidian leaned toward Behemoth. "Is he unhinged?"
Behemoth kept his eyes forward. "I heard Lord Reaper describe him as a lost case."
"I've heard the same."
Chrome adjusted the knot of his tie with precise fingers. "You both need to work on your volume control."
Before Behemoth could rumble a reply, Obsidian went perfectly still. A single, high-priority notification materialized in his HUD, burning into his vision in sharp green text. It carried Shelly’s signature.
[Come back to the capital. Now.]
Obsidian shot out of the guest chair so fast the metal frame clattered backward onto the floor.
"My apologies," Obsidian said, his voice stripped entirely of its usual dark composure as he backed toward the exit. "Prime Ministerial duties require my immediate, I have to go. Excuse me."
He didn't wait to be dismissed. The heavy doors slammed shut behind him, leaving a vibrating echo in the room.
Behemoth and Chrome stared at the empty doorway.