The First King's Engine descended like a falling moon, its wings cutting through the clouds with impossible precision. Cannons hummed with unbearable energy, ready to erase everything beneath them. The glow painted the city in ultraviolet madness.
Ren narrowed his eyes. The heat burned his face, but he didn't flinch.
Ashir's voice was a faint echo now, not words, but ancient screams buried in code.
"Ren," Mira whispered, "we can't win this."
"I'm not here to win," Ren said. "I'm here to finish it."
---
Within the God-Machine
The interior of the First King's Engine was not metal—it was bone. Polished white, reinforced with ancient alloys, inscribed with prayers written in the dead language of the machine-priests.
Suspended in the center of its core, the First King himself still sat, or what remained of him.
A desiccated corpse, plugged into a thousand tubes, his mouth permanently opened in a silent scream.
He had powered the machine for centuries.
And now, it woke in his name.
---
Ren's Titans clashed against the descending fortress. Their rusted fists slammed into its lower wings. Cannons tore them apart, limbs exploding into twisted iron and rotten hydraulics, but they kept coming, throwing themselves at the impossible.
One Titan managed to climb halfway up its wing before being obliterated by an anti-matter blast.
Mira watched with hollow eyes. "They're dying. All of them. For what?"
Ren answered without looking at her. "For the ones already dead. For the ones who never had the choice."
Above, the First King's Engine opened its main cannon.
A sphere of annihilation gathered between the wings, swallowing light itself.
Ashir spoke one last time. "We are out of time."
Ren didn't hesitate.
He ran straight toward the god-machine.
---
The Final Protocol
The Clockwork Crown around his head began to disintegrate, gears spinning off into pure light. Symbols burned themselves into Ren's flesh, fusing ancient circuitry with blood, machine and man no longer separate.
Ascension.
Ashir screamed. Not in fear. In completion.
Ren leapt.
Up the ruined scaffolds of Caelum's last towers. Up the collapsing walkways. Up the shuddering ribs of the First King's Engine itself.
The fortress reacted too slowly.
Cannon blasts narrowly missed him. Plasma fire seared his cloak into tatters.
Ren landed on the central spire of the fortress. Beneath his feet, the bones of kings cracked.
---
Inside the command chamber, the corpse of the First King twitched violently, sensing another usurper.
Ren looked down at the withered monarch. "It's over."
The corpse smiled.
"It's never over."
Ren drove his fist—now more machine than flesh—into the control core.
A scream echoed across the city as the soul of the First King was torn apart, devoured by ancient programs fighting for dominance.
The Engine faltered mid-air, stuttering like a dying god.
But its cannon remained charged.
---
The Choice
Ashir's voice returned, strained but clear.
"I can fire the cannon… into the sky. Save the world. But Caelum will fall. All of it. Everyone still inside."
Mira's voice came through Ren's ear-comm, shaking. "There are children, Ren! Families that didn't choose this!"
Ren's vision blurred.
"Or," Ashir offered, "fire it at the Citadel. Kill the Lords. End the war here. Now. But the blast will level everything for a hundred miles."
Two choices.
Burn the oppressors and the innocents alike.
Or save the innocent… and leave the Lords alive to rebuild their empire.
His hands shook.
Mira was still waiting for his answer.
---
Ren lifted his head.
"I…"
The Cannon's charge reached critical mass.
What do you choose, King of Rust?
[TO BE CONTINUED...]