Episode-1038
Chapter : 2075
"My anchor is compromised," Lucifer said, staring at the clouds. "My armor is critical. Send the medical team. Send the transport. I am at the crash site."
He waited. Five seconds passed. Ten seconds.
Lucifer’s heart hammered against his broken ribs. Had they left? Had the dropships abandoned him the moment he hit the wall? He had seen them pull back, retreating into the clouds when Lloyd unleashed that final attack. Fear, real and raw, clawed at his throat.
"Marcus!" he shouted, the effort making his vision swim with black spots. "Answer me! I am your partner! I am the key to this planet! You cannot leave me here!"
Finally, a sound cut through the static. It was a mechanical chirp, followed by a voice. But it wasn't the respectful tone of a subordinate speaking to a King. It was cold, flat, and bored.
"Signal received," the voice said. It was Marcus, the Commander of the Fire Fly forces. "Tracking beacon locked. We see you, Lucifer."
Relief washed over Lucifer. It felt warmer than the sun. They were still there. They hadn't abandoned him. Of course they hadn't. He was Lucifer. He was the most powerful asset they had. They needed him to conquer this world. Without him, their plan to harvest the planet's mana would take years longer.
"Good," Lucifer breathed, letting his hand drop back into the mud. "Hurry. The human... he is dangerous. He broke the laws of physics. Bring heavy weapons. And bring a stasis pod for me. I need... I need to rest."
"Hold position," Marcus said. "Asset Recovery is en route. ETA: thirty seconds."
Lucifer closed his eyes. He let out a long, shuddering sigh. He was safe. The humans wouldn't dare attack a Fire Fly extraction team. The Corporation had weapons that could level cities from orbit. Lloyd Ferrum had won the duel, but he hadn't won the war. Lucifer would heal. He would get new armor, better armor. And then he would come back.
He would make Lloyd pay for this humiliation. He would make him watch as he burned everything he loved.
"Thirty seconds," Lucifer whispered. "Just hold on."
The wind began to pick up. The loose dirt and dry grass around the ditch started to swirl. A shadow fell over Lucifer, blocking out the morning sun.
He opened his eyes.
Above him, the clouds were parting. They weren't drifting away naturally; they were being pushed aside by something massive. A vortex of grey clouds swirled in a perfect circle, creating an eye of the storm directly above the ditch.
Through that hole in the clouds, something descended.
It wasn't a medical transport. It wasn't a sleek, fast rescue ship.
It was a mountain of metal.
It was an Overlord Class Mech. It was huge, easily three times the size of the dropships Lucifer had seen before. It was blocky and ugly, covered in thick, dark grey plating that absorbed the light. It looked like a flying fortress, a brutalist monument to industrial warfare. Massive thrusters on its underside glowed with a harsh blue light, scorching the air as it lowered itself toward the ground.
The sound was deafening. It was a roar that shook the ground beneath Lucifer’s back. The trees in the nearby forest bent double under the downwash of the engines. The mud in the ditch began to dry and crack from the heat.
Lucifer squinted against the wind. He felt a flicker of confusion. This seemed... excessive. Why send a siege engine to pick up one wounded ally? Why bring something this heavy for a simple medical evacuation?
"A bit dramatic, Marcus," Lucifer muttered, trying to find his old arrogance. "But I suppose a King deserves a grand carriage."
The massive machine didn't land. It hovered about fifty feet in the air, its shadow completely swallowing the area where Lucifer lay. It hung there, ominous and silent except for the scream of its engines.
Lights flashed on the underside of the hull. Panels slid open. Lucifer expected to see a medical team rappelling down, or a levitation beam to gently lift him up.
Instead, a loudspeaker crackled to life. The sound was so loud it vibrated in Lucifer’s chest cavity.
"Scan complete," Marcus’s voice boomed from the machine. It sounded distorted, amplified to god-like volumes. "Subject: Lucifer. Status: Critical damage. Spirit Core integrity: 12%."
"Yes, yes," Lucifer waved a weak hand. "I know the status. Just get me out of here."
Chapter : 2076
"Analyzing mission parameters," the voice continued, ignoring him completely. "Objective: Conquest of Northern Sector. Current probability of success with Subject Lucifer: 0%."
Lucifer froze. His hand stopped in mid-air.
"What?" he whispered.
"Project Lucifer is deemed a critical failure," Marcus announced. The voice was devoid of empathy. It sounded like an accountant reading a bad tax report. "The subject has failed to secure the objective. The subject has sustained irreparable damage to the host body. The investment has yielded negative returns."
A cold feeling, colder than the void of space, settled in Lucifer’s stomach. He tried to sit up, panic giving him a sudden burst of adrenaline.
"Marcus!" Lucifer shouted at the hovering metal giant. "What are you saying? I am not a project! I am a partner! We have a contract!"
"Contracts are for assets with value," the voice boomed back. "You have lost your value. You let a primitive biological entity defeat you. You allowed the Reality Anchor to be destroyed. You are no longer a viable field operative."
"I can heal!" Lucifer screamed. "I just need time! Give me a new anchor! I will burn them all next time!"
"Negative," Marcus said. "We do not have time. The resistance is escalating. We need a solution now. We cannot wait for you to heal. We cannot waste resources repairing a broken tool."
The bottom of the massive mech began to shift. A central hatch, circular and jagged like a mechanical iris, spiraled open. Inside, there was no light. There was only darkness and the sound of wet, grinding gears.
"Initiating Asset Recovery," Marcus said.
Lucifer stared up at the opening. It looked like a mouth.
"Recovery?" Lucifer stammered. "Yes. Recover me. Take me to the ship."
"You misunderstand," Marcus said. "We are not recovering the pilot. We are recovering the raw materials."
________________________________________
Lucifer tried to crawl.
He dug his fingers into the drying mud, dragging his broken body inch by inch. He didn't know where he was going. He just knew he had to get away from the shadow of that machine. The instinct that had kept him alive for thousands of years—the instinct of a survivor—was screaming at him. This wasn't a rescue. This was a harvest.
"No," Lucifer gasped, dragging his dead legs behind him. "No, you can't do this. I am a King! I command legions!"
"You command nothing," the voice from the sky replied. "You are alone in a ditch."
A sound came from the open hatch above. THUNK.
Something fired from the darkness. It moved too fast for Lucifer to dodge.
A massive, barbed harpoon shot out of the mech. It was attached to a thick, heavy cable made of braided steel and fiber-optics. The harpoon wasn't aiming for the ground near him. It was aiming for him.
Lucifer tried to roll over, tried to use his one good arm to deflect it.
CRUNCH.
The harpoon slammed into his chest. It pierced the ruins of his chest plate, smashed through his sternum, and pinned him to the earth.
Lucifer screamed. It was a sound of pure, unadulterated agony that tore his throat raw. The barbs on the harpoon expanded inside his body, hooking into his ribs and spine, locking the weapon in place.
Blood—black and thick—sprayed out around the metal shaft.
"Target secured," the machine announced.
"You... traitors!" Lucifer shrieked, clutching at the cable sticking out of his chest. "I gave you everything! I gave you access to the ley lines! I gave you the North!"
"You gave us access," Marcus agreed. "And now we are taking the rest."
The cable went taut. The winch inside the mech began to spin.
Lucifer was lifted off the ground. He dangled in the air, suspended by the spear through his chest. The pain was blinding. He kicked his legs weakly, swinging like a fish on a hook.
As he rose higher, closer to the dark maw of the machine, he saw something else emerging from the hatch.
They looked like vines, but they were made of silver metal. Hundreds of thin, writhing tentacles spilled out of the opening. They moved with a disturbing, organic fluidity, seeking heat and magic.
Nanite tentacles.
"Prepare for biological integration," Marcus said.
The tentacles reached down and wrapped around Lucifer’s limbs. They were cold. They didn't just grab him; they pierced his skin. Thousands of microscopic needles injected themselves into his arms and legs.