Chapter 336: The Vanguard’s Audit
Violet flames erupted from Krug’s eyes and mouth. The steel catwalk blistered under his boots as Rubedo forced his consciousness into the mortal vessel. The sheer cosmic density threatened to splinter the newly forged scales across Krug’s chest.
Rubedo planted his armored hands against the railing to stabilize his physical form. He looked down at the sprawling industrial floor of the Morval foundry.
Krax stood near the automated sorting track. He racked the bolt of his star-iron rifle and ejected a spent brass casing onto the concrete. Marcus knelt on the floor covered in grease and ash.
He stared at Ethan’s ruined spine plastered against the brick wall. Elena clamped both hands over her mouth to stifle her sobs.
Rubedo descended the metal staircase. His plated boots clanked against the grated steps to draw Krax’s attention immediately. Krax slung the rifle over his shoulder and bowed his head respectfully.
Liam, Maya, and the others scrambled away from the bloody remains of their classmate to press themselves against the nearest conveyor belt.
Rubedo bypassed the groveling group and approached a wooden crate filled with freshly assembled ballistics. He picked up one of the rifles and inspected the machined steel barrel. The internal spiraling grooves caught the light of the nearby blast furnace.
He tossed the weapon to Krax.
"Your production numbers fall behind schedule." Rubedo stepped toward Marcus. He grabbed the front of Marcus’s dirt-stained tunic and hauled him to his feet. "Sabotage creates a logistical deficit. A single jammed gear costs my foundries thousands of units."
Marcus trembled violently in Krug’s grip. He glanced at Ethan’s corpse and quickly averted his eyes. "We need rest. The belts spin too fast. Our hands are bleeding."
"Bleeding hands can still sort iron." Rubedo threw Marcus backward into a stack of steel plating. "Your previous status grants you absolutely zero privileges in my factories. You will process fifty explosive munitions per hour. Any worker failing to meet the quota joins Ethan in the disposal bins."
Elena crawled over the concrete and grabbed Krug’s ankle. "Please. We will work. Just give us water."
Rubedo kicked her hand away. He stepped over the metal track and surveyed the shivering people chained to the assembly line. "The machines operate continuously, and you will do the same. Double the conveyor speed and cut their rations in half."
Krax gripped the lever controlling the primary engine. He pushed the throttle forward, sending the massive rubber belts into an aggressive spin. Marcus, Elena, and the remaining group immediately scrambled to grab the incoming iron slag to avoid falling into the churning gears.
Rubedo then called Iron-Scale and told him that he will be heading to Gildreath Empire for a few days.
After saying that, Rubedo activated Krug’s gravitational core and flew to Gildreath.
The next day, Sylara dragged a pale finger across the glowing green terminal screen to isolate a cluster of dying roots. The biological network bordering the western swamplands pulsed with a sickly yellow hue.
She pulled her white silk hood forward to obscure her face from the glare of the monitors. Her connection to the deep earth reacted violently as toxic alchemical runoff pooled into her pristine aquifers.
The newly constructed foundries in Morval churned out massive amounts of industrial waste. The acidic byproducts seeped through the bedrock and contaminated the subterranean water tables.
Sylara watched the corruption spread across her digital map. The encroaching pollution forced her defensive fungal walls to wither and dissolve into gray slush.
She tapped the communication rune etched into her console to establish a direct link to Rubedo. The connection stabilized to project Rubedo’s shadowed face onto her secondary screen.
He leaned back in his throne while reviewing a stack of logistical reports. Sylara twisted the fabric of her sleeve and kept her eyes averted from his burning violet gaze.
"Rubedo." Sylara stared at the edge of her wooden desk. "The runoff from your new assembly lines is flooding my western perimeter. The industrial acid is actively melting the root anchors we placed last month. If you continue flushing the bio-furnace waste into the water table, my perimeter defenses will collapse entirely by morning."
Rubedo swiped the logistical reports away and brought up the territorial map on his own interface. He traced the yellow warning markers blinking along her borders. He rested his chin on his knuckles to analyze the flow of the contaminated water.
"The factory production must continue." Rubedo typed a rapid sequence into his terminal to reroute the plumbing grid. "I am pushing the Digester output into a secondary holding reservoir. Tap into the Omni-web and weave a filtration barrier around your aquifers. Use the excess biomass from the dead troops to fertilize the barrier and neutralize the acid. Would that suffice?"
Sylara nodded and immediately manipulated the root network to follow his instructions. She wove millions of microscopic spores into a dense biological filter beneath the soil.
The yellow warning markers on her screen faded back to a healthy green as the new fungal mesh absorbed the toxic waste.
’It’s about time Julia gives birth. And once that’s done, I will have the last piece of my soul.’ Rubedo switched the feed to Gildreath.
Krug wiped blood from his greataxe using a torn piece of crimson silk. Kronos stood nearby, inspecting the shattered marble of the dais.
A Vanguard infantryman sprinted through the ruined oak doors, coming to a halt as his boots skidded across the tiles. He dropped to one knee, pointing back down the corridor.
"Commander," the soldier gasped for breath. "The floor in the east wing collapsed. Creatures are swarming the medical ward."
Krug hoisted his weapon and moved toward the exit. Kronos followed immediately to match his pace down the vaulted hallways. The sounds of struggling medics and breaking glass echoed from the infirmary.
They breached the wooden double doors. The polished tiles of the medical ward lay in ruins around a massive crater. White dust coated the overturned cots and spilled alchemical supplies. Pale, elongated limbs reached over the broken edges of the hole.
A dozen blind figures dragged themselves out of the bedrock. Skin stretched tightly over their eyeless faces as they crawled toward the central bed.