Chapter 206: The Eve of Battle
While the work crews laid the final rows of hidden mines, Iron patrolled the defensive perimeter.
Together with Lumon, he was conducting a final inspection of every combat unit. The engineer would walk up to an automated anti-air turret, cast a brief glance at the armor plate joints, and mentally request a status update. In that exact second, Lumon broadcast the report:
"Installation number three. 'Ocean' load-bearing frame stabilization—100%. 'Prism' thermal protection density—within normal limits. 'Celestial' sensor synchronization with the computing unit complete. 'Sun' cooling system charged with refrigerant. 'Chaos' energy core brought to baseline standby power."
Satisfied that all four towers and the ground firing points were operating nominally, Iron headed for the village's central square. It was time for the next phase of the defense plan.
"General assembly. Everyone drop your current tasks and gather at the workshop," he commanded loudly.
The engineer's voice, amplified by Dornheim's acoustics, instantly echoed across the territory. The people obediently dropped their tools and formed a tight semicircle in the square. When the murmur of voices died down, Iron stepped forward, holding a wooden crate. He set it down on a workbench and opened the lid, revealing rows of weapons.
"Base defenses are strong, but those fighting on the ground tactically need firepower, too."
He unrolled a list and began calling out names one by one:
"Darwin. Marek. Gaston. Adrian. Bertrand. Noah. Elyria. Step forward."
The listed men and the hovering spirit stepped out from the crowd. Iron handed each of them a high-tech pistol—an exact replica of his own weapon.
Darwin immediately began examining the slide, while Noah weighed the weapon in his hand, checking its balance.
"There are four finished units left in the crate," Iron gestured toward the remaining pistols. "I don't know which of you needs them most. Who is ready to take on the responsibility and use them in battle?"
Silence hung over the square for the first few seconds. But a hand went up from the second row.
"I'll take one," Kaiden stepped forward.
"Alright, Kai—"
"No!" Marek cut him off sharply, taking a step toward the engineer. "Please, don't, Iron. He's still a teenager. You shouldn't put a weapon like that in his hands. He has no place on the front lines."
Iron hesitated slightly, shifting his gaze from an agitated Marek to Kaiden. The boy stepped around Marek and looked him in the eye:
"Trust me, Dad. I haven't been a kid for a long time. I see how much effort you all pour into this village. Just like you, I want to be of real use to Dornheim and protect our home. So... let me."
Darwin, noticing Marek's hesitation, walked over and quietly placed a hand on his shoulder:
"Let's give the kid a chance, Marek. Just one."
Marek stayed silent for a long time, looking back and forth between Darwin and Kaiden. Finally, he exhaled and gave a barely noticeable nod:
"Fine... But under my personal responsibility."
Kaiden looked at him with gratitude, walked up to the workbench, and accepted the weapon from Iron's hands.
Three more hands went up from the crowd right after. The remaining three pistols were claimed without another word by Clara, Karl, and Gray.
"All sidearms distributed," Iron concluded, closing the empty crate. "We'll run through handling and firing instructions later. Now, back to work."
The crowd in the square began to disperse. People returned to their posts, discussing their new weapons and responsibilities. To fully lock in his evening's success with gravity manipulation, Iron decided to use his routine movements around the village for training.
The engineer took a step forward and smoothly turned off his body mass. He lifted into the air about a meter off the ground and flew slowly over the streets of Dornheim, heading toward the southern sector.
Four massive golems were waiting for him by the defensive barricades.
Iron landed smoothly in front of them.
"Golem number one and two,"
"you head to the flanks to cover the blind spots of the automated turrets."
"Golem number three, take position by the main passage. And golem number four, hold here for now."
Receiving their new directives, the machines hummed in unison, their joints ground into motion, and they slowly split off to their assigned points.
Finished with the golems, Iron headed toward the training grounds. Noah was there, just as he expected. He was finishing up a series of warm-up lunges.
"Noah," Iron called out to him, walking closer and picking up one of the training swords from the weapon rack. "I've got a bit of time. Let's spar. I need to remember how to move and coordinate my body properly in close combat."
Noah adjusted his grip on his blade and dropped into a combat stance.
"Attack," he threw out sharply.
Iron moved forward. He kept his distance, dodged strikes in time, shifted his weight from leg to leg, and coordinated his defensive blocks.
Three minutes into the sparring session, Noah feinted with his body. Iron reacted correctly, raising a stiff block, but Noah abruptly twisted his wrist and delivered a short, snapping strike with the flat of his blade straight into his opponent's guard.
Clang!
The powerful impact left Iron's fingers numb, and the sword flew from his hand, burying itself in the dirt a few meters behind him.
Noah lowered his blade and looked at him.
"You move fine. Reaction speed and coordination are good. But you lack power."
"I see," Iron replied dryly.
He walked over, yanked the weapon from the ground, gripped the hilt again, and dropped into a stance.
"Let's continue."
The sparring lasted for another thirty minutes. Iron fell, lost his weapon, but time after time he got back up and continued his assault.
Finishing the exhausting session, he made his way to the workshop. He had no strength left to go inside, so he simply sank to the ground right by the wall, leaning his back against a tree. Pulling a canteen from his belt, the engineer took a few swigs.
Dornheim sprawled out before his eyes. Iron caught his breath, letting his heart rate settle after the workout, and addressed Lumon:
"What's your projection regarding the upcoming battle?"
The answer rang out clearly in his mind:
"The probability of full-scale combat operations commencing against Dornheim is 90%."
Iron froze for a second, holding the canteen to his lips.
"Wait," he frowned. "Is it just me, or have you started talking normally?"
"You have transitioned to a new level of synchronization and utilization of my computing power."
"Makes sense, then." Iron capped the canteen and clipped it to his belt. "In that case, can you completely stop projecting the pop-up holographic interface in front of my eyes from now on? In a real fight, those windows are only going to get in the way, blocking my vision and distracting me. Stream all data, graphs, and warnings directly onto my retinas. Focus on that mode and lock it in as the primary. Otherwise, you're bouncing back and forth between the interface and my retinas."
"Directive accepted," Lumon replied. "Holographic interface disabled. All system notifications routed to direct retinal projection. Focus complete."
About two hours passed. Iron returned to his routine tasks, helping the work crews wrap up the final stages of fortifying the base. He was in the middle of wiring a distribution panel on one of the auxiliary boards near the palisade when the air right in front of him suddenly sparked.
Elyria materialized from a bright flash of light.
"Iron! Iron!" she cried out breathlessly, grabbing his sleeve with her tiny hands. "There are a lot of people approaching the forest! A whole lot!"
Iron frowned, setting his tool aside and instantly tensing up.
"Seriously?"
Elyria shut her eyes.
"Yes! There are too many of them!"
In that very second, a bright red string of text flashed across Iron's retinas, completely overwriting all other background metrics:
[Warning. Anomalous movement of biological subjects detected. Approximate quantity: 500,000 subjects. Movement vector directed strictly at Dornheim.]
"What?..." slipped hoarsely from Iron's lips. "Five hundred thousand? Lumon, are you sure you didn't mix that up?"
"Error impossible."
Iron spun around sharply and shouted:
"Drop all work immediately! Everyone grab your weapons and take up combat positions! An army of... five hundred thousand men is approaching Dornheim!"
Silence reigned over the village for a brief moment. People froze with raised hammers and logs. And then Dornheim literally exploded into a wave of panic.
"How many?! Five hundred thousand?!" a terrified scream rang out.
"That's impossible! Where would they even get an army like that?!"
"Maybe Master Iron made a mistake in his calculations?"
"Are you an idiot?! Have you ever seen him make a calculation error? If he said it, then it's true!"
People scrambled around the square in a panic, trying to form ranks.
Paying no attention to the commotion, Iron addressed Lumon:
"How much time do we have until they reach the first line of mines?"
"At their current marching speed without halts, the enemy will reach the outer perimeter in 9 hours and 23 minutes. Accounting for a standard night encampment, arrival time will increase to 15 hours and 3 minutes."
Iron turned to the spirit.
"Let's fly. I want to see what's happening for myself."
Without waiting for an answer, he shot sharply up into the air.