Episode-898
Chapter : 1795
The cannon screamed. The cooling vents hissed violently, spewing white steam. The gold circuitry on the gun glowed so bright it was painful to look at. The metal of the barrel began to turn red, then white. It was overheating. It was going to melt.
Lloyd didn't care.
"Warning," the System said in his ear. "Weapon integrity critical. Explosion imminent."
"Good," Lloyd said. "That's the plan."
The drone sensed the energy build-up inside its own head.
"Error," the drone said. "Energy spike detected. Internal breach. Abort! Abort!"
"Too late to cancel the subscription!" Lloyd yelled.
He gripped the cannon with both hands, holding it steady as it vibrated with the power of a contained star.
The drone’s laser reached 100%. The red light was blinding. It was about to fire.
Lloyd grinned. It was a wild, desperate, manic grin.
"Zero Distance Blast!" Lloyd screamed.
He pulled the trigger.
THOOOOOOOOOM.
There was no sound of a gunshot. There was no pew-pew. There was just the sound of reality being torn apart.
A massive column of pure, blinding white energy erupted from the Nova Cannon.
Because the barrel was jammed inside the drone, the energy didn't have anywhere to go. It couldn't spread out. It couldn't dissipate. It was forced, point-blank, into the drone’s armored core.
The beam pierced through the sensor array like a hot knife through butter. It tore through the logic processors. It melted the targeting computer. It smashed through the engine block.
It exited through the drone’s underside, blasting a hole through the marble floor and deep into the foundation of the palace.
The drone froze.
For a split second, nothing happened. The red light in its eye flickered and died. The hum of the laser cut out.
And then, physics took over.
The Nova energy inside the drone created a vacuum. A singularity. It had displaced so much matter so quickly that the air rushed in to fill the void.
The drone didn't explode outwardly. There was no fireball. There was no shrapnel flying towards the guests.
Instead, the Nova energy forced a localized implosion.
CRUMP.
The sound was like a giant stepping on a soda can.
The massive, carriage-sized mechanical titan crumpled. Its armor plates buckled inward. Its legs snapped and folded. The entire chassis collapsed in on itself, crushed by the pressure of the implosion.
Lloyd, standing on top of it, jumped off just as the metal began to scream. He used a [Void Step] to teleport safely to the floor, sliding to a stop in a crouch.
He watched as the drone vanished.
It was sucked into the singularity of the blast. Metal, wires, glass—it was all compressed into a ball of super-dense scrap metal the size of a watermelon.
The ball glowed white-hot for a second, then cooled to a dull gray. It fell to the floor with a heavy THUD that cracked the tile.
Silence.
Absolute, ringing silence filled the ballroom.
The smoke cleared. The other four drones were smoking wrecks. The big one was a paperweight.
Lloyd stood up. He brushed the dust off his tuxedo. His Nova Cannon arm hissed as it vented the last of the heat, the metal plates shifting and folding back until his normal human hand returned. He flexed his fingers. They were trembling slightly.
"That," Lloyd said to the silent room, "voids the warranty."
The guests slowly poked their heads out from under the tables. They looked at the wreckage. They looked at Lloyd.
King Liam was the first to speak. He stood up, his crown slightly askew.
"Lloyd," the King said, his voice shaky. "What... what was that?"
"Market research," Lloyd lied smoothly. "I told you the competition was fierce."
He walked over to the ball of scrap metal that used to be the Command Unit. He kicked it gently. It was solid.
"Ken!" Lloyd shouted into his comms. "Clean up on aisle five. Get this scrap to the lab. I want to know what makes it tick."
"Yes, sir!" Ken’s voice came back, sounding relieved. "Nice shooting, boss."
Lloyd looked around the room. His wives were safe. The baby was safe. The palace was... mostly intact. The roof had a hole in it, but that just improved the ventilation.
He saw Faria staring at him. Her eyes were wide.
"You..." she stammered. "Your arm. It turned into a... a thing."
"It's a prototype," Lloyd said, waving his hand dismissively. "New line of kitchen appliances. Very aggressive blender."
He walked over to them. Amina looked impressed. Mina looked relieved. Faria looked like she wanted to ask a million questions.
Chapter : 1796
"Are you hurt?" Mina asked, reaching out to touch his face.
"Just my pride," Lloyd said. "And my suit. Do you know how hard it is to get oil stains out of silk?"
He looked up at the hole in the roof. The stars were visible again. The Firefly ship was gone, probably retreating after losing its ground team. They would be back. He knew that. This was just the opening move.
But for now, the music had stopped, and the bad guys were scrap metal.
"Well," Lloyd said, turning to the shocked orchestra. "Don't stop on my account. play something upbeat. We have a wedding to celebrate."
The conductor, terrified, raised his baton. The music started again, shaky at first, then stronger.
The guests began to stand up. They whispered. They pointed. But they were alive.
Lloyd took a glass of wine from a passing tray (the waiter was still shaking). He downed it in one gulp.
"That went well," Lloyd muttered to himself.
"You call that well?" Faria hissed. "You blew up a robot with your arm!"
"I call it a successful negotiation," Lloyd said. "They wanted to kill us. I convinced them to be a paperweight. Everyone wins. Mostly me."
He looked at the scrap metal ball one last time.
The drone doesn't explode outwardly; the Nova energy forces a localized implosion, causing the mechanical titan to collapse in on itself and vanish into a pile of scrap metal before it can fire.
In the quiet, smoke-filled aftermath of the drone attack, the royal court is left in a state of shock. The Royal Ballroom, once a pristine testament to architectural decadence and overpriced interior design, now looked like a scrapyard that had been chewed up and spat out by a metal-eating dragon. The air hung heavy with the acrid stench of ozone, burnt circuitry, and the very expensive perfume of nobles who had sweated through their silks in terror.
Lloyd stood near the center of the devastation, brushing a speck of gray dust from his lapel. The massive ball of compressed scrap metal that used to be the Firefly Command Unit sat nearby, cooling with a series of sharp, rhythmic tings. It was a grotesque monument to modern warfare sitting in the middle of a medieval party.
"Well," Lloyd said to the room at large, his voice cutting through the stunned silence. "I think that concludes the entertainment portion of the evening. Please remember to tip your waitstaff. They have had a very long night."
Nobody laughed. They were too busy staring at him. They looked at him not as a man, but as a force of nature that had just descended from the heavens to slap physics in the face.
Faria was inspecting a scorch mark on the floor, looking personally offended by the damage to the venue. Amina was already on her communication stone, likely ordering a battalion of sand-mages to fortify the perimeter. Mina was clutching Leo, her eyes wide but relieved.
But it was Princess Isabella who moved first.
The Warrior Princess of Bethelham pushed through the crowd of shell-shocked dukes and weeping countesses. She didn't look terrified. She didn't look confused. She looked like she had just seen the face of God, and God was holding a plasma cannon.
Isabella marched up to Lloyd, her boots crunching on broken glass. She stopped a foot away from him, her eyes locking onto his with an intensity that made Lloyd want to check if he was on fire.
"Lloyd Ferrum," Isabella said. Her voice was steady, but there was a tremor of raw emotion underneath it.
"Princess," Lloyd replied, taking a step back. "If this is about the hole in the roof, I can explain. It’s a skylight. Very trendy."
"You saved us," she said, ignoring his deflection. "You stood against monsters of steel and fire. You risked your life for your family. You possess power that rivals the legends of old."
"I possess a lot of things," Lloyd said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Anxiety, a caffeine addiction, and a very demanding schedule."
Isabella took a deep breath. She went down on one knee.
The room gasped. A collective intake of breath that sucked the remaining oxygen out of the ballroom. A Princess of the Blood did not kneel. Not to a Duke. Not to a foreign dignitary. Only to a King.
"Lloyd Ferrum," Isabella declared, her voice ringing out clearly. "I, Isabella Bethelham, offer you my hand, my heart, and my blade. Marry me."