Chapter 200: The Million Point Target
The hour didn’t pass.
Forty-three minutes in, Commander Vorth got bored. The amplification array crackled back to life, and his booming voice rolled across the valley.
"SEVENTEEN MINUTES REMAINING. I’M TIRED OF WAITING. BRING ME THE HEAD OF WHOEVER IS IN COMMAND, AND I WILL SPARE THE REST."
A pause followed.
Then his voice became quieter, almost conversational for a man whose voice could shake mountains.
"Actually, no. Don’t bring me the head. I want to see their face when they realize what they’re up against."
His tone hardened.
"Fire the forward batteries."
The lead ship shuddered.
Along its port side, six cannon batteries rotated in unison, their massive barrels glowing with concentrated plasma energy. Each barrel was the size of a car, and the energy building inside them was Rank 3, packed so tightly that it seemed to scream against the restraints.
The cannons fired.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Six massive plasma blasts tore through the sky in parallel lines, each one a comet of blue-white energy trailing superheated air. They crossed the valley in less than two seconds before slamming into the fortress wall.
The impact was catastrophic.
Concrete exploded outward. Energy wards flared blue, absorbing the first three hits before shattering like glass. The remaining three blasts struck the exposed stone and carved craters the size of trucks into the wall.
Rock fragments flew inward, showering the battlements with shrapnel.
Tchnk. Tchnk. Tchnk.
Soldiers scrambled for cover. Cannon crews moved behind their emplacements. A watchtower on the northwest corner cracked under the impact, then tilted three degrees inward.
"Hold the line!" a fortress officer screamed from the wall. "Hold the..."
The second volley came.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
The already-damaged section of the wall took the brunt of the attack. The outer layer of stone vaporized on impact, while the inner reinforcement buckled beneath the force. Cracks raced through the masonry like veins.
Emric was already there.
He reached the damaged section three seconds after the first volley hit.
He studied the second volley as it crossed the valley.
His brain calculated trajectories, angles, impact points, and potential deflection paths in real time.
"Plasma blasts incoming," he said into the fortress communication channel.
"Six projectiles. Impact in one point seven seconds. Target zone is the northwest wall section. All personnel, clear the battlement."
Soldiers scrambled away but Emric didn’t move.
The blasts hit.
He raised his shield.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
The first three blasts slammed into the shield.
Instead of being absorbed, the plasma energy redirected off the shield’s surface. Three blue-white comets shot upward into the sky, their energy spreading harmlessly through the upper atmosphere.
The remaining three struck the wall around him.
Dust billowed across the battlement.
Emric stood in the center of the destruction, untouched.
"Northwest wall holding," he reported. "Structural damage at thirty-seven percent. I can deflect approximately sixty percent of incoming fire. The rest will hit the wall."
"That’s fine," Holden’s voice came through his earpiece. "You won’t be doing this for long."
Emric glanced toward the sky.
"What’s the plan?"
Holden stood on the fortress roof, looking up at the lead ship.
It hung three hundred feet above the valley, its massive hull blocking out the stars. Cannon batteries along its sides were already glowing as they prepared for a third volley.
The ship was enormous.
One hundred and twenty meters of iron, steel, and weaponry, suspended by Rank 3 flotation arrays. Hundreds of soldiers lined its deck. Cannon crews operated batteries on every side while energy wards shimmered across the hull.
Holden looked at it the way a hungry man looked at a buffet.
"Hold the ground," he said into the earpiece. "I’m taking the sky."
"What?"
Renna’s voice immediately came through the communication channel.
"Taking the sky? What does that mean?"
He didn’t answer.
Instead, he activated the Abyssal-Bone Wings.
The wings deployed from his back with a sound like cracking knuckles.
Bone struts unfolded, dark and sleek. A thin membrane stretched between them, impossibly strong and humming with abyssal energy. The twelve-foot wingspan spread behind him, casting a dark silhouette against the fortress lights.
The soldiers on the wall noticed.
One by one, heads turned.
They stopped fighting long enough to stare.
A man stood on the fortress roof with wings spreading behind him like a dark angel preparing to descend upon the battlefield.
Holden launched.
His legs pushed against the roof with enough force to crack it.
CRACK!
The shockwave rattled windows across the fortress. Soldiers stumbled. Cannon crews grabbed their emplacements to keep from falling.
Then Holden shot upward.
WhoooOOOOSH!
He rose straight into the sky. The Abyssal-Bone Wings beat once. Then twice.
Each powerful stroke accelerated him further.
The air screamed past him.
On the deck of the Imperial War-Ship, a lookout saw him first.
The man stood near the port railing, scanning the valley through enchanted binoculars when a dark streak caught his attention.
His eyes widened.
A figure was rising from the fortress roof.
"Contact!" he shouted. "Airborne contact rising from the fortress! Single target! Moving fast!"
"How fast?" an officer demanded.
The lookout kept staring.
"Fast enough that I can’t track it with..."
He never finished.
Holden hit the deck.
He came down on the metal plating with the full force of a Rank 3 body decelerating from several hundred miles per hour in less than a second.
BOOM!
The metal deck buckled beneath his boots.
A crater six feet across and a foot deep formed around him.
The shockwave ripped outward, knocking the nearest soldiers off their feet. Equipment racks toppled as cannon crews struggled to keep their balance. The entire ship shuddered as its flotation arrays strained to compensate for the sudden impact.
The ship tilted two degrees to port before its stabilization arrays corrected the imbalance.
Holden stood in the center of the crater.
The Abyssal-Bone Wings folded against his back, their work done.
He slowly looked up.
The deck stretched in every direction.
One hundred and twenty meters of iron plating, weapon emplacements, equipment, and soldiers.
Lots of soldiers.
They were already recovering.
The initial shock was fading, replaced by military discipline. These were Imperial soldiers. They were professionals, trained to stay calm under pressure.
They grabbed their weapons, formed ranks, and surrounded the crater.
Three hundred soldiers.
All Rank 2, carrying enchanted halberds, shock rifles and pasma blades.
They closed in around Holden.
Holden’s eyes moved across them.
His 10,000x processor immediately began cataloging every soldier.
"Who are you?"
The voice came from across the deck.
Holden looked toward it.
Commander Vorth walked forward through the ranks.
His soldiers parted for him without being asked.
He was a big man, with wide shoulders, thick arms, and a body built more like a barrel than a person. His armor was made of ornate black iron with gold trim.
His broad face was framed by a thick black beard braided into three ropes, each one tipped with an iron ring.
In his right hand, he carried a halberd.
The massive two-handed weapon had a blade the size of a door, glowing with concentrated Rank 3 energy. Its shaft was reinforced iron, while the edge was forged from enchanted steel.
Vorth stopped at the edge of the crater.
He looked down at Holden, studying him with the evaluating gaze of a man who had killed plenty of things and was deciding whether Holden would be next.
"You."
His voice was deep and booming.
"You are the one they sent?"
His gaze moved over Holden.
"A child?"
Holden said nothing.
Vorth’s eyes narrowed.
"I asked you a question, boy. Who are you? What do you think you’re doing on my ship?"
Holden looked at him, at the three hundred soldiers surrounding him.
Then at the ship itself.
His processor continued running.
The battlefield was already being mapped.
His eyes briefly flicked toward the System.
[Current KP: 1,496,290]
[Multiplier: 10,000x]
[KP Booster: 2x Active]
[Fighter Rank: Rank 3 (2-Star)]
[Next Rank: Rank 4]
[Required KP: 3,230,000]
[Current Deficit: 1,733,710]
Holden stared at the numbers for half a second.
He had already crossed the million-point milestone.
That target was behind him now.
But Rank 4 was still a long way off.
And three hundred Rank 2 soldiers had just volunteered to help close the distance.
His gaze moved across the deck again.
Three hundred soldiers.
Forty-seven warships.
Tens of thousands of Imperial troops.
His smile appeared.
It was the smile that made people’s instincts scream at them to run.
"Don’t run, guys."
"I’m on a strict schedule today."
Vorth’s face darkened.
"Kill him."
Three hundred soldiers charged.
Holden summoned his sword.
Golden light flashed across the deck.
The Solar-Forged blade appeared in his right hand, its radiant edge humming with contained power.
The fire hadn’t ignited yet.
Holden looked at the wall of soldiers rushing toward him.
Three hundred weapons raised.
Three hundred voices shouting war cries.
Three hundred Rank 2 bodies, armored, armed, and trained to kill.
His smile widened.
Then he charged.