“Mystery and marvel are the gates to that wild world where the Monsters of the past lived out their monstrous lives. Adventure that carries one into those steaming coal forests, into those black and reptile-haunted swamps, that sets one face to face with the sprawling brood of giants, terribly menacing and terribly true, holds a thrill peculiar to itself. So startling, so madly strange seem the conditions that we scarcely dare to believe the adventure true, and then, the slow processes of Time turn one by one the pages of that age-old book, and the most extravagant flight of the imagination is outdistanced by facts.
Out to the waste and desert corners of the earth, men go to read these stories. They find the bones of the colossal gladiators still locked in their Titanic struggle, though that struggle ended in death ten million years ago; they find a ruthless war of tooth and claw made tenfold more ferocious than any combat of living beasts of prey by the huge bulk, and the terrible offensive and defensive weapons of those vast animals that the Earth could no longer tolerate.”
-Francis Rolt-Wheeler, The Monster-Hunters, (1916, 2nd Era.)
Erec swung his axe into a drone, splitting it in half in a second as a bullet skipped along the side of his pauldron and crashed into the concrete wall. Inside, Fury burned brighter, heating up as he let it unfurl. This would be him. Enide would see who he was, and in the process, he’d kill every last old-world relic that dared to threaten them. Another bullet slammed into his helm, jerking his head and flying off. All it meant was that it was a bullet not spent on a Pendragon.
He’d kill all of them.
Fury burned brighter, but it was nowhere near where it was supposed to be. Where he’d drag it kicking and screaming into life. If she wanted to see him let go, this time, there would be nothing held back. She was the girl who went all in, never taking her foot off the gas. And he’d make her see that they were the same deep down.
Erec dived forward, clipping another drone with its motors and causing the thing to crash. Another was closing the distance, peppering him with its weak and pointless bullets. Watching the predicted outline of where it was going, he lashed out with a kick and crashed the drone into the ground.
Too easy. These things were far too fragile to present a real danger. Was this the best that the old world had to offer? The weapons of the people that came before?
More bullets rained on him, hammering into his plate and making a dreadful noise. Standing in place for too long attracted too much attention, and even if his Armor fended off the small caliber of the drones, it wasn’t a permanent solution. Eventually, the plating would wear away and present weak points where the bullets could get at his skin; but by then, he’d make sure none of these things were left to fire their weak little guns at him.
Erec yelled until his throat tore, pressing deeper into the ranks of the unliving machines. Behind him, Dame Robin pulled back and threw up a metal wall with her Armor; the Pendragons were darting out to take potshots but relying on her for defense, for lack of any cover in this death hall. There’d be no backup for some time, meaning they relied on him.
If they were going to live, he needed to make space for them to fight back against the robots.
He cleaved into the thick of the drones, angling his axe to hit multiple of them at once while on the move, pressing deeper, trying to draw more of their attention. Not because it took the heat off the rest of his allies, but because if that brush with death kept happening for him, it only let him pull more out of Fury.
Around him, steel rained to the ground about as quickly as the drones got within range. His axe was a weapon of destruction, tearing apart the flying machines with every move. He saw where they’d be and acted accordingly for each action to break as much as possible, even while not being fully conscious.
As his skin seared and his veins burned bright, it was as if his body had become its own entity, fueled by the fire inside as he screamed for more.
A heavy bullet hit his shoulder, jerking him off balance a larger caliber than the drones. Finally, his eyes landed on the target, one of the man-sized machines. It moved on three legs, constantly shifting to get the best shot. Like one of those tripods that Erec had seen the Pendragons use. And also, it was a much better target to vent off some of that burning inside.
The more he got used to this hate, this pure anger, the more it reminded him of an energy generator, warming and growing in power, straining his body. Before adapting to it, dealing with the rush of emotions led him to lose himself.
Now, that hate was a weapon.
Erec’s axe tore off one of the thing’s legs, causing it to tip and for its shot to fire wildly and far away from its target of him. With one of his feet, he trampled it, crushing through its chest and watching a splash of its internal fluids come up as he broke straight through. Barely a second later, a bullet skidded off the side, sparking and catching the fluids on fire; the flammable oil spread in a wave, and Erec leaped away from it.
Fire. Perfect, precisely what this fight needed to take it up a notch.
“More!” Erec screamed, finding another one of the man-like bots; he grabbed it by the arm, ripping it free, and tossed the gun at a drone, sending the thing to crash into the ground and explode in the growing patches of fire.
As more broke apart, their latent mechanics twitching and struggling as their programming tried to force them back to their feet to kill him, the fires spread. Fuel grew massively on the ground as he waded into more of these creatures. Kicking, smashing, and tearing, ripping apart whatever came his way and forcing his way deeper into the steel wave. With the destruction he brought in his wake, they surrounded him, pressing in and doing their best to neutralize the most significant threat.
None of them were quick enough. Not a single one of these soul-less things could compete with him. Saws, bullets, and thermal lances failed to find the right spot to break past his defense. Even if they did, it wouldn’t stop him. The only thing that would let this last gasp from an ancient world kill him was to take him off by the head.
But they never stood a chance. He saw how they moved. His body reacted, a finely tuned instrument of death and destruction.
This was him. A pure and complete part of himself, burning brighter by the second as he tore limbs, turned these robots into his weapons against their own forces.
Eventually, with so many attacks flying on all sides, something would find its way past his Armor. A shot hit the right angle, breaking through a weak point in his Armor, drawing blood, and numbing the limb. The pain that stemmed from it existed only briefly before being wrapped up and consumed with that inner burning heat. Even his blood, drawn by his enemies, became a weapon for him to take and burn away.
All of it drove to a single goal, a single focus. To kill. To destroy. As quickly and effectively as this stubborn physical form of his could manage. Every strike and piece of sheered metal was another step on his path to conquering this battlefield. To be the victor, the demon that was inside. It taught him quicker ways to kill.
Severing the correct wire at the right time led them to crash into one another. The drones served as projectiles; even the fire could be utilized to generate an effective smoke screen.
Everything within sight was his to control.
And finally, the last ones began to arrive at the party. Massive hunks of steel on treads climbed up the tunnel, their massive barrels pointed directly at him: a challenge and the high point of what he’d wanted. The final test was to free him to who he truly was.
It fired a massive beam of light from the barrel; not a projectile, but a line very similar to the las-rifle Enide used.
Erec saw it only a second before it came, swaying to his side and feeling it tear into his arm, stripping the plate and searing the flesh beneath. This couldn’t stand. With an evil grin, Erec rushed it, slipping by another one of the massive pillars of red light. A bullet skidded past the exposed arm from behind; blood colored his vision.
He reached the behemoth of a robot, jumped onto the barrel, and grabbed it with his bleeding arm. Using its frame as a brace, he slammed his axe into its plate, having it bounce and dent the metal. Then he slammed it in again, cutting the barest bit through. Again and again, bullets bounced off him, some finding holes or leaving bruises past the plate—nicking and biting as he worked.
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His skin crawled with a low silver fire as his world concentrated on a single act. Tearing into this robot.
The outer shell of his victim gave way, revealing something within. A glowing, pulsing cylinder that practically called for him to rip it free. So he did so, tearing the metallic guts right out of the robot, then throwing it just as fast; it barely hit the ground not that far away before causing a massive boom. Erec’s fingers slipped from his hold on the barrel of the behemoth, throwing him across the ground as a pulse of pure force blew from where it’d landed. When he got up, all he saw was steel carnage. Torn apart bots and twisted metal, another one of the behemoths was crawling up the tunnel, with a fresh wave of metal horrors crawling from their hidey-hole.
Erec’s arm burned, but as the silver coated it, the pain faded; he felt whole. Complete. If he killed one of them, what was another? If anything, it’d only die quicker.
Without care for anyone watching him, he charged the next batch of enemies, grinning and bleeding.
Beautiful fire. That’s what he craved.