Halochassis

Chapter 64 - End of the Iron Bandits

“Raaaaaaah!”

Armaros roared as he shot his second Twin Buster Cannon, the sound of his mechanical voice rumbling across the burning slums like a dragon's roar amplified through metal. The two dragon buster rifles mounted on his arms trembled from the force of the discharge, their barrels glowing white-hot before unleashing twin crimson beams. The projectiles tore through the smoky air with a deafening howl, illuminating the surrounding buildings in a violent red glow as they raced toward the Chosen One. The heat from the beams scorched the ground beneath them, sending loose pieces of debris tumbling through the streets.

However, the Chosen One remained completely still. A brilliant golden energy shield surrounded Alexander, forming a radiant barrier between him and the incoming attack. The crimson beams slammed into the shield with tremendous force, causing waves of golden light to ripple across its surface. The impact shook the nearby buildings and filled the air with a sharp, vibrating hum, but the shield did not crack. It did not even flicker. The Twin Buster Cannon's destructive energy simply dispersed against it, fading into harmless sparks that drifted down like glowing embers.

“I’ll fire at you until you die!” Armaros roared as he loaded his cannons once more. The mechanical joints in his arms groaned as the weapons locked into position, while the orb embedded in his chest pulsed with a deep crimson glow. “Prepare yourself!”

Another set of Twin Buster Cannon was unleashed. Once again, two crimson beams erupted from the dragon buster rifles and blasted toward Alexander. The surrounding smoke was blown apart by the force of the attack, revealing burning houses and shattered streets for a brief moment. The beams struck the golden shield head-on, producing a thunderous explosion that shook the ground beneath Armaros' feet. Yet when the smoke cleared, Alexander was still standing in exactly the same position. The golden barrier remained untouched.

The shield was impenetrable. Armaros and the other Halochassis had managed to bypass it earlier with Risha's help, but Risha was now down and unable to assist him. Without her ability to interfere with Alexander's defenses, Adzeel had been forced into a brutal battle of attrition. There was no clever opening left for him to exploit and no weakness he could immediately target. His only remaining option was to overwhelm the Chosen One through sheer firepower, even if it meant burning through every ounce of Armaros' remaining energy.

“Everything you have done is for naught, Captain Schwarzer.” Alexander's golden eyes glared through the smoke, cold and unwavering. His voice remained calm despite the destruction surrounding them. “Make it easier for you and surrender.”

“Fuck you!” Armaros roared as he unleashed another Twin Buster Cannon.

The cannons fired again, but this time the crimson beams were noticeably weaker. They still tore through the air with tremendous force, but their brightness had diminished, and their impact against the golden shield produced a much smaller explosion. Adzeel could feel the difference inside the cockpit. The power flowing through Armaros was becoming sluggish, and the armor's movements were beginning to feel heavier. Every shot consumed another portion of the dwindling energy supply.

Adzeel had pushed Armaros too far. He had continued abusing the Halochassis' power without giving the system enough time to recover, forcing the machine to operate beyond its sustainable limit. The crimson glow of the orb embedded in Armaros' chest suddenly flickered. Once. Twice. Then it began blinking rapidly.

[Warning: Low Power]

The warning glowed inside Adzeel's vision, accompanied by an unpleasant electronic alarm. His breathing became heavier as sweat ran down the side of his face. He knew exactly what the warning meant. Armaros was running out of power, and there was no guarantee that the armor would remain operational for much longer.

“Enough with this nonsense.” Alexander said as he swung his gigantic golden sword toward Armaros.

The enormous weapon cut through the smoky air with frightening speed. Its polished golden surface reflected the orange flames around the battlefield, making the blade look like a fragment of sunlight amid the burning ruins. Armaros reacted immediately, spreading out his crimson-dark wings. The mechanical wings snapped open with a metallic clatter, and their powerful joints pushed the Halochassis sideways just as the gigantic sword passed through the space where its body had been.

The blade missed by inches.

However, Armaros had focused entirely on the first sword.

Alexander was wielding another huge golden sword.

The second weapon came from the opposite side, moving with an almost effortless precision that caught Adzeel completely off guard. There was barely enough time for him to turn Armaros' body before the enormous blade slammed into the armor. Metal shrieked against metal, and a violent burst of golden energy erupted from the point of impact.

“Graaah!” Adzeel cried as his Armaros power armor got chipped.

The force of the attack tore through Armaros' remaining balance. The massive Halochassis was thrown backward, its crimson wings folding awkwardly as it crashed through the side of a slum building. The impact sounded like thunder. Wooden walls snapped apart, bricks exploded outward, and sheets of aluminum roofing were ripped from their supports. Armaros' armor broke apart during the collision, and Adzeel was violently ejected from the Halochassis.

Now without the protection of Armaros, Adzeel crashed into the remains of the slum building. He struck the hard floor before a section of aluminum roof collapsed over him, followed by loose bricks and chunks of broken wood. Dust filled his mouth and nose, while the smell of smoke and burning metal stung his eyes. Pain spread through his chest and back, and his left arm throbbed with every movement. For several seconds, he could barely hear anything except the ringing in his ears.

“Darn it!” Adzeel roared as he tried to stand up.

He pushed against the rubble, but his body refused to cooperate. When he looked down, he saw that one of his feet had been impaled by a thick steel bar from the ruined building. Blood had soaked into his boot and pooled beneath it. His blue jacket was tattered and covered in dust, with several sections torn open from the impact. Blood trickled down from a wound on his forehead, slipping past his eyebrow and running along the side of his face.

Adzeel clenched his teeth and grabbed the steel bar, but the pain shooting through his leg forced him to stop. His vision blurred for a moment. The burning heat of the surrounding buildings pressed against his skin, while smoke curled around the shattered remains of the room.

Then a shadow fell across him.

The Chosen One began to descend from the sky, landing in front of the ruined building with elegance and grace that seemed almost insulting amid the destruction. His golden armor remained pristine despite everything that had happened. Not a single speck of dust appeared to cling to him. His gigantic golden swords were held casually in his hands as he stepped through the smoke, his golden eyes fixed on Adzeel.

Adzeel gritted his teeth. His body screamed at him to stay down, but he refused to listen. He reached beside him and grabbed his shattered broadsword. The weapon was damaged from the earlier battle, its once-solid blade cracked and chipped along the edge, but it was still better than fighting empty-handed.

“Raaaaaah!”

Adzeel charged.

His injured leg dragged slightly behind him, and every step sent a sharp stab of pain through his foot, but adrenaline drowned out most of the sensation. He raised his shattered broadsword with both hands and swung toward Alexander with everything he had left.

But Alexander was faster.

With his normal-sized golden sword, he deflected Adzeel's giant blade with a swift flick of his wrist. The difference in strength was humiliating. Adzeel's broadsword was knocked away as though it weighed nothing, spinning through the air before clanging against the ground. The sharp metallic sound echoed through the ruined street.

Adzeel immediately tried to punch.

His fist barely moved before Alexander's golden eyes narrowed.

A flash of golden light appeared.

Several thin golden needles shot forward and pierced the tendons in Adzeel's legs. A sharp burst of pain traveled through his lower body, and his legs suddenly lost their strength. Before he could even process what had happened, more golden needles struck his biceps, piercing deep into the muscles and severing the nerve connections controlling his arms.

Adzeel's fingers went numb.

His arms became useless.

His legs could no longer support his weight.

He staggered forward for half a step before his body finally gave out. The ruined street rushed toward him, and he crashed onto his knees amid the dust and broken bricks. Blood dripped from his forehead onto the ground as he struggled to remain upright, his fists trembling uselessly at his sides.

Adzeel fell on his knees.

“What are you waiting for? Just kill me already!” Adzeel said.

His voice was hoarse from exhaustion, yet there was still enough strength behind it to carry through the smoke-filled battlefield. Blood stained parts of his battered armor, and his breathing came in rough, painful gasps. Every movement caused another wave of pain to travel through his battered body, but he refused to lower his head. Even in defeat, Adzeel continued to glare at Alexander with open defiance.

Alexander stared at Adzeel with visible disgust. His golden eyes remained cold as he looked over the beaten leader of the Iron Bandits. “Not today, my friend. There is a proper time and place for your execution. Your wife would be sad if she did not see you one last time.”

“Youuuuu!” Adzeel roared. His voice cracked with fury as he struggled against his injuries. “Fuck! You! Asshole!”

Alexander only smirked.

The expression on his face made Adzeel’s blood boil even more. There was no anger in Alexander’s eyes, nor any sign that he had been offended by the insult. Instead, he looked almost amused, as though Adzeel’s hatred was nothing more than an inconvenience.

Alexander calmly raised one hand and covered Adzeel’s face with his gloved palm. The metallic fabric of the glove pressed against Adzeel’s skin, blocking his vision. A faint golden glow seeped between Alexander’s fingers, accompanied by a soft hum of divine energy. Adzeel tried to pull away, but his exhausted body could no longer resist.

“Sleep.”

Divine magic surged through Adzeel.

His muscles immediately went limp. The fire in his eyes disappeared, and his head dropped forward as consciousness slipped away. His body became completely still, leaving only the faint rise and fall of his chest to show that he was still alive.

Alexander then grabbed the battered and unconscious body of Adzeel and lifted him into the air with one hand. The Iron Bandits' leader hung helplessly from his grasp, his damaged equipment covered in soot, blood, and dust. Alexander raised him high enough for everyone around them to see.

“The Leader of the Iron Bandits, Adzeel Schwarzer, is captured! Victory is in our hands!” Alexander announced.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then the battlefield erupted.

All the adventurers roared in victory. Cheers thundered through the burning slums, mixing with the crackling of flames and the distant cries of wounded civilians. Weapons were raised into the air, fists were clenched in celebration, and some adventurers embraced one another as if the battle had already ended.

“As expected from our hero!”

“He saved the world once more!”

“He is really the Chosen One!”

The praise continued to pour over Alexander like a wave. Their voices echoed between the ruined buildings, drowning out the sounds of destruction that still surrounded them.

Alexander smiled as he scanned the audience. The night had already darkened the sky, turning it into a vast black ceiling above the ruined district. The flames consuming the slums provided the only real source of light, casting an eerie orange glow across the faces of the adventurers. Smoke drifted through the streets, carrying the bitter smell of burning wood, stone, and metal. Sparks floated upward like tiny stars before disappearing into the darkness.

Then Alexander noticed Lireina.

Unlike the others, she was not celebrating.

Lireina stood among the adventurers, her expression strangely distant and confused. The orange firelight reflected in her green eyes, but there was no joy in them. Alexander watched her carefully, trying to understand what she was thinking. He could not make sense of her expression. She was not smiling like the others, nor did she look relieved.

For the first time that night, Alexander found himself uncertain.

Was Lireina happy about their victory?

Or was something bothering her?

Alexander decided not to leave the question unanswered. He allowed the other adventurers to take Adzeel from him, letting them carry the unconscious Iron Bandit leader away as they continued their celebration. Then he walked toward Lireina, his boots crunching over broken stone and debris.

“Alex.” Lireina muttered.

Alexander stopped in front of her.

“We have done it, Lena. We won. We may have not captured Azazel and Samael, but without the Iron Bandits, it’s not a matter of ifs but when.” Alexander said.

His voice remained confident. To him, the outcome was already decided. The Iron Bandits had lost their leader, their headquarters had been destroyed, and their organization had been reduced to scattered survivors. As far as Alexander was concerned, the remaining Halochassis were only a matter of time.

“I’m glad about our victory, but the civilians—”

“A necessary expense,” Alexander said, cutting her off.

Lireina fell silent.

Alexander's golden eyes remained fixed on her.

“We could not discern who are the enemies. We have to play safe. Besides, this is just the start of the war to come.”

The words lingered between them while the sounds of celebration continued around them.

Lireina slowly lowered her gaze.

She wanted to argue. She wanted to tell him that the people living in these slums were not soldiers, demons, or members of the Iron Bandits. They were ordinary civilians who had simply been caught in the middle of a battle. Some of their homes had burned. Some had been injured. Others had probably lost everything they owned.

But Lireina decided to shut her mouth.

She had seen the look in Alexander’s golden eyes. His mind had been made up a long time ago. There was no hesitation behind his words, no uncertainty that she could exploit. For Alexander, everything had become a matter of survival.

The survival of the Celestial Wardens.

Lireina disagreed with what had happened. She hated seeing innocent people suffer, but she knew she could not convince Alexander otherwise.

The war to come.

The thought repeated itself inside her mind.

Her eyes drifted toward the burning remains of the slums.

There was only one thing she could think of.

The entities who created the Halochassis themselves.

Is Alexander planning to start a coup?

The possibility sent an uncomfortable chill through her body despite the heat surrounding her. She did not want to believe it, but Alexander's words had planted the thought firmly inside her mind.

“By the way, where is Saint Elwyn?” Alexander asked.

“Huh?”

Lireina blinked and looked around.

She turned her head from one side to another, scanning the crowd of adventurers. The saint should have been somewhere among them. With the battle over, Lireina expected to see her walking toward them, staff in hand, perhaps offering some kind of healing or checking on the wounded.

But she was nowhere to be found.

“I entered the portal before her,” Lireina said. “She said that she’ll follow us, but I never saw her shadow here in the slums.”

Alexander's smile immediately faded.

Lireina felt it too.

Something was wrong.

The celebration around them suddenly seemed distant. The cheering adventurers were still shouting, but their voices no longer felt reassuring. The crackling flames seemed louder, and the heavy smoke suddenly felt more suffocating.

Alexander had always been concerned about Saint Elwyn.

He could care less about the Ultimate Dragon Warrior because that man was immortal. There was little reason to worry about someone who could return from death itself. But Saint Elwyn was different.

For the saint to be missing from their side was bad news by itself.

Alexander raised his hand and swiped his fingers through the air.

Golden light immediately gathered before him. The magical energy twisted into a circular formation, forming a portal that shimmered like liquid sunlight. The air around it trembled from the immense power being released.

Without wasting another second, Alexander stepped through.

Lireina followed closely behind.

The sensation of passing through the portal lasted only an instant. The heat and smoke of the burning slums vanished, replaced by a sudden wave of colder air.

They emerged directly in front of Cathedral Exa.

Lireina froze.

Alexander stopped beside her.

Neither of them spoke.

The Cathedral Exa was burning.

Orange flames climbed across its walls, devouring the structure while thick black smoke rolled into the night sky. Broken pieces of stone littered the ground around the cathedral, and the once-holy building had been transformed into a horrifying scene of destruction. The smell of burning wood and stone filled the air, mixed with something darker that made Lireina's stomach tighten.

But it was what stood above the burning cathedral that truly silenced them.

On top of the golden, burning cathedral was Saint Elwyn.

Or what remained of her.

Her half-body remains had been crucified against the cathedral, her lifeless form silhouetted against the flames. The firelight flickered across her corpse, illuminating the terrible sight against the darkness of the night.

Lireina's eyes widened.

Alexander's expression became completely empty.

For several seconds, neither of them moved.

The cheers of victory from the slums were gone.

All that remained was the roar of the fire, the crackling of burning wood, and the dreadful silence that followed the discovery of their dead saint.