6kv Chapter 112: Siege-Line of the Sledge
Chapter 112: Siege-Line of the Sledge
//Bonus Chapter for the Popular Ranking - 81. Thanks for the support readers!
The air smelled of scorched iron and oil, a choking reek that made the lungs burn with every breath. There was no transition from the paper ruins of Arcana to this new nightmare. The green ink simply gave way to an endless, screaming expanse of burning dust and floating iron shrapnel. The sky looked like the inside of a furnace, filled with red-hot iron filings that swirled through the vacuum in lethal, jagged patterns, scraping against the hull of the Void-Galleon with a sound that could peel the teeth back.
SCREE!
Ren Hanshin stood on the main deck, his boots dug deep into the scorched timbers.
[Synchronization: 84.0%]
[Level: 135]
His hair, now the deep, black of midnight indigo, didn’t move with the cosmic draft. It lashed like a solid whip around his neck, absorbing the red glare of the burning copper stars. His right arm, that perfect graft of black glass and crimson silk, remained completely motionless, its fingers curved around the hilt of the scythe. His left arm, the silver-black iron alloy he had pulled from the furnace of Solis, radiated a dense, freezing pressure that kept the deck from turning into liquid slag.
’This is a different kind of lock,’ Ren thought, his unblinking black eyes tracking the red-hot iron spikes that drifted past the prow. ’The God of Magic hid behind rules and papers. But, this one builds walls out of pure violence. He doesn’t want to calculate the cost. He wants to see if the ship can handle the hit.’
The sky ahead didn’t stay empty for long. Through the veil of red dust, a massive shadow appeared, moving with a speed that defied its weight. It wasn’t a ship. It was a flying fortress of black iron, a massive block of jagged stone and iron plating that looked like a mountain torn from its roots and flung through the heavens. It carried no banners, but the surface was covered in thousands of long, bronze spikes that reverberated with a terrifying kinetic energy.
It was the main siege-line of the Scribe of Fortifications, the minor god who guarded the door to the Citadel of War.
"Brace! Hold the braces!" Kaito’s voice tore through the ship’s internal mana-link, cracked and distorted by the high-frequency shaking of the iron storm. "The fortress is changing direction! It’s not firing at us, Ren! It’s going to ram!"
Before the message could even clear the speakers, the black iron mountain hit them. The impact was a physical disaster that threw the world on its side. The Void-Galleon tilted fifty degrees, its timbers screaming as the serrated iron prow of the fortress sheared through the forward port railing. The sound was like a thousand swords breaking at once, an immense roar of metal tearing wood that shook Ren’s teeth. The ship’s main mast groaned, the obsidian-silk rigging snapping under the sudden tension as the black iron fortress locked itself against their side, its bronze spikes digging deep into the deck plates like the teeth of a giant beast.
"The hull is open!" Tanaka’s voice came next, a ragged bark over the noise of the grinding metal. He was running up the companionway steps, his hand white on the hilt of his sword, his face covered in a layer of red iron dust. "The forward storage holds are filled with shrapnel, Ren! The iron filings are tearing through the secondary shields! If we can’t push this thing off us, the whole frame is going to split in half!"
Ren didn’t run. He shifted his weight, his boots cracking the deck as he lowered his center of gravity, using the mass of his Level 135 vessel to anchor the prow. His left arm pulsed, the silver runes flaring with a cold, silver-violet light that spread through the surrounding wood, turning the forward timbers into a solid, unreactive block of waste that refused to crush.
"Kaito, reverse the rudder," Ren commanded, his voice a heavy rumble cutting through the sound of the grinding fortress, vibrating within the ears of his men. "Tanaka, take the hunters to the lower deck. Use the shadow-shroud to seal the holes. Don’t try to fight the shrapnel with your blades. Just keep the wood together."
"What about you?" Tanaka asked, his eyes wide as he looked at the black iron mountain that was still scraping against their side, throwing up showers of white-hot sparks. "The gate is sitting right on top of us!"
"I’m going to take the load off the ship," Ren rasped, his tone flat and sovereign. "Move."
He stepped off the forecastle and walked toward the point of contact. The space between the Void-Galleon and the flying fortress had become a meat-grinder of screaming iron shrapnel. Millions of red-hot fragments were flying between the hulls, tearing through the air with a speed that could turn a man into a red mist in seconds. But as Ren stepped into the storm, the 84% synchronization engaged with a low hum. The dark violet linger of flames shroud on his scythe expanded, creating a small, localized vacuum around his body. The shrapnel hit the violet flames and instantly lost its momentum, dropping onto the deck as harmless, grey slag.
The Weaver manifested behind him with a sudden, suffocating surge of crimson mana that completely rewrote the local space. Her physical form was fully realized, her moon-pale skin flushed with a dark, predatory heat as she draped her arms over his shoulders. Her robes of liquid rubies spilled across the broken timbers like an unravelling pool of blood, and her galaxy eyes were wide, flashing with an ancient, furious jealousy as she looked at the black iron mountain.
"They dare to scratch your ship, my king," the Weaver whispered, her starlight breath freezing the red dust on his face. Her spiritual limbs wove themselves into his midnight-indigo hair, her long silver nails digging into the black glass of his right side, her voice a shivering harmonic that caused the bronze spikes of the fortress to vibrate with friction. "They think they can crush my needle with a common hammer. They do not know that the shadow cannot be broken by iron. Step onto their floor, Ren. Let me feel the friction of their armor when you rip the threads out."
Ren didn’t answer her, but his twin pits of void narrowed as he looked at the top of the iron fortress. The bronze spikes began to click and turn, reordering themselves into a dense geometric formation. From the center of the black iron mountain, the first true defense of the threshold materialized. It was the first Legendary Avatar — The Iron Phalanx. The construct stood thirty feet tall, its body composed of heavy, interlocking plates of polished brass and weathered bronze, shaped into the likeness of a multi-limbed centurion warrior. In its four primary hands, it held four massive siege-shields made of solid black stone; in its secondary hands, it held a massive iron sledgehammer that carried the conceptual weight of a fortress wall.
WHOOSH!
Behind the centurion, a legion of metallic ghosts rose from the iron filings, the translucent warriors made of iron shrapnel that held rusted spears, their hollow eyes glowing with a faint, hostile red light.
[Warning: Domain Threshold Guards Activated]
[Enemy Encounter: The Iron Phalanx (Legendary Avatar Class)]
"The intrusion is noted," the Iron Phalanx spoke, its voice a deep, metallic roar that sounded like a battering force hitting a city gate. "Ren Hanshin, the anomaly who murdered the sun, your path ends at the wall. This is the Siege-Line of the Sledge. Within this domain, the law of the shield is absolute. You, mere bastards cannot pass the gate."
The Phalanx advanced to the edge of the fortress, its four siege-shields locking together to form a solid wall of black stone that completely blocked the path to the inner sanctum. The legion of metallic ghosts raised their spears, their combined battle aura generating a massive, red-hot wave of pressure that slammed into the Void-Galleon, threatening to tear the remaining sails from the rigging.
’They think a wall is an answer,’ Ren thought, his obsidian-silver eyes narrowing as the silver shards of his resolve flared within the dark pits. ’They think that if they make the barrier thick enough, the porter will look at the mountain and turn back. But a porter doesn’t look at the wall. He only looks at the load he has to carry past it.’
Ren stepped off the wooden rail of the Void-Galleon and onto the black iron plating of the fortress. The moment his boots touched the metal, the Phalanx struck. The multi-limbed centurion swung the massive iron sledgehammer in a brutal, vertical arc that targeted the space beneath Ren’s feet. The strike carried the kinetic force of a falling missile, a blow designed to shatter the logic of his stance and bury his vessel deep within the iron core of the mountain.
"Shinen-ryu Style: Abyssal Friction!" Ren rasped.
He did not dodge the sledgehammer or used any of the space-skip techniques. He settled into the low, heavy stance of the Abyssal Shinen-ryu, his boots digging into the black iron plates until the metal groaned under his weight. He closed his eyes, using his void-sense to feel the displacement of the air. Every movement of the massive hammer created a minute wrinkle in the fabric of the constellation, a heavy movement that his synchronization could read like an open book.
He raised the Void-Reaper with both hands.
SH-RING!!!!
The matte-black scythe met the iron sledgehammer. The impact was a disaster of sound, a roar of pure kinetic energy that sent a massive shockwave ripping through both hulls. The Void-Galleon rumbled vehemently, its port timbers cracking as the pressure wave traveled through the wood, but the forward shields held. The Phalanx’s sledgehammer did not break, but the massive kinetic force it carried was vanished the moment it touched the rage of dark violet flames. The dark violet flames swallowed the momentum of the strike, converting the weight of the fortress into raw internal balance for Ren’s arms.
"Your wall is too thin," Ren said, his tone flat and sovereign.
He twisted his torso, using his left arm to drive the heel of the scythe against the first black stone shield. The silver-violet light-breaker runes on his skin flared with a binding luminescence, injecting the absolute bankruptcy of the abyss directly into the guardian’s defense line.
The black stone shield lost its meaning. The conceptual value of the barrier plummeted to zero as Ren introduced the deficit of his existence into the composition of the stone. The shield turned into common, brittle grey dust that was instantly swept away by the shrapnel storm.
"The shield... is devalued!" The Iron Phalanx roared, its interlocking brass plates clicking frantically as its internal logic failed to process the loss of its defense. "The calculation is broken! The line cannot hold the deficit!"
Weaver laughed from his shoulders, her arms tightening around his neck, her face buried in the crook of his collarbone as she watched the construct falter. Her long silver nails dug deep into his skin, her crimson fate-threads weaving themselves into the wounds to drink the friction of his rising battle aura. The pain was nothing to him, a minor transaction that only served to sharpen his focus. And for the first time, the weaver touched the manly power inside the under pants of Ren. Ren clicked his tongue slightly, moving her hand sideways.
"Haha okay. But, shred them, my king!" the Weaver screamed, her voice a shivering harmonic that caused the legion of metallic ghosts to flicker and snap like static. "They think their iron has value! Show them that the grave is the only home they have left! Look at them while they break!"
Ren advanced, his boots carving deep craters of dark violet frost into the black iron plating of the fortress. The metallic ghosts lunged forward, their rusted spears aimed at his chest, but as they entered the circle of his dark violet aura, their forms disintegrated. Their kinetic energy was cut off at the source, their shapes turning into a fine, worthless soot that fell like black snow onto the deck.
The multi-limbed centurion raised its remaining three shields, attempting to rebuild the wall, but Ren was already in front of it. He didn’t swing the blade for speed; he moved with the absolute, unhurried inevitability of a mountain sliding into a valley.
"Eighth Form - Abyssal Rumbling Scythe!" Ren growled. The Void-Reaper came down in a single, devastating vertical arc. The matte-black blade cut through the remaining stone shields, through the breastplate of the centurion, and buried itself deep into the iron core of the fortress itself. The dark violet flames exploded inward, sucking the remaining mana out of the Legendary Avatar.
The Iron Phalanx froze. Its four remaining arms fell loose to its sides, the interlocking metal plates turning a dull, rusted grey as its internal values were calculated to zero.
"The gate... has reached... the default..." the construct whispered, its mechanical voice stuttering into silence before its entire thirty-foot frame collapsed into a mound of worthless iron filings that sank into the red dust.
[Legendary Avatar Defeated: 1/4]
[Domain Threshold Cleared: 25%]
[Synchronization: 84.0% (STABLE)]
’Four... Humph~,’ Ren stood on the crumbling deck of the iron fortress, his breathing a slow, mechanical rhythm that left wisps of violet frost in the air. His new matte-obsidian iron arm pulsed with a deep, silver-violet light, the white runes settled and quiet once more.
Behind him, on the deck of the Void-Galleon, the silence was eerie. Kaito and Tanaka stood by the forward rail, their hands resting on the broken timbers, their eyes wide as they looked at the massive mound of rust that had once been the ultimate defense of the outer gate. They saw their sovereign standing in the center of the iron storm, his black glass arm gleaming under the copper sky, and they knew that the siege-line had just been rewritten.
The fortress began to tilt, its internal engines dying as the core was severed, its massive frame slowly drifting away from the ship’s side. The path to the second gate was open, but through the swirling red dust ahead, the fields of floating spike-walls were already beginning to glow with a brilliant, white-hot light — the territory of the Ballista Sovereign.
Ren gripped the Void-Reaper, the dark violet flames on the blade roaring as it prepared to harvest the next line of the threshold.