Machina Arcanis: Two Worlds Collided-Chapter 252. Summon of Astrapyion-spatha

252. Summon of Astrapyion-spatha

Impacts sent a rumbling shudder through the air. The hammerhead demons took turns, ramming their thick, ironclad helms against the gate.

The hinges loosened. The gap widened with every thunderous strike.

Behind them, a legion of demons of various sizes marched, their muddy boots and heavy wheels flattening the soil. They crushed trees and scrub in their path, a trail of dirt stretching out into the distance where they had emerged from the dark abyss.

"KEEP RAMMING!" the helmed demon bellowed, raising an open hand to the horn blower.

A loud warhorn signalled the halt. The metallic clanking subsided, replaced by the hissing, growling, and chain-clanking of the hellhounds. Their teeth were bared in pure aggression.

Then, a trail of light arched across the horizon, like a shooting star announcing the arrival of the evening.

"What is that?!"

"A machine?"

"An enemy?"

A flash of light, bright, blinding blue, plunged into the centre of the demon troop.

Thunder rang out from above. Another boom followed as blinding light erupted from the ground.

ZZZZZZZZZST!

Tendrils of immense lightning crackled and trailed outward, decimating everything within their radius.

Enemy flesh flew apart, reduced to crisps and ash in a heartbeat. The soil turned black. White smoke engulfed the area as the remaining demons scrambled away. Fear and confusion painted on their faces; they couldn’t fathom what had just hit them. But their unblinking eyes told of the horror, as though they were witnessing a punishment from the gods.

"WHAT HAPPENED?!"

"Where’s the attack coming from?!" A robed demon floated upward, trying to gain a vantage point.

The violent crackling sound still haunted their ears, emanating from the centre of the destruction.

The smoke cleared to reveal a lone figure. Tall and square-shouldered, Zetius took a long, deliberate stride. His eyes remained unwavering, focused entirely on his enemies.

Ornate, dull silver metal adorned his weapon hand, complex red markings burning bright on the surface.

In his armoured glove, a long, beautiful sword sizzled with electricity. Massive voltage, millions of volts, coursed through it. It was a weapon of mass destruction, a lightning strike at the command of his fingers.

The demons retreated with cautious steps.

A dark Armatus hovered just behind him, making a soft landing. The intimidating machine, its visor with a menacing red V-shape, strode in sync with the white-haired arcanist. Its mechanical parts whirred as its massive joints moved tonnes of steel.

Zetius took a resolute step, the Armatus at his back, while the enemy ranks curved outward, losing their ground. The hellhounds jumped back and forth, their pathetic whimpers nothing but a nuisance. The hellbearer held their chains tight, unsure of what to do next.

The pinnacle of power always bent the weak to its will.

"Cubie, focus on the rescue. Find survivors and bring them to safety," Zetius commanded, his voice sharp. His stiff posture was evidence of his solemn focus.

The eyes of a fearless warmonger scanned the mob — weapon types, range, and threat levels. He made a mental note of them all.

"Got it! What about you?" Cubie asked, her voice small over the comms.

"I’ll hold the line," he replied, taking a deep breath. He was in complete control. "Go."

"..."

With a reluctant confirmation, Cubie took off. The Armatus Celer’s thrusters zipped through the air toward the outer wall.

Scornful hisses and sneers reverberated from the demons. Slowly, they spread out, surrounding the white-haired arcanist. His calm demeanour caused their indecisiveness to strike first.

The demon in a long robe pointed forward with long, jagged fingernails. "BRING ME HIS HEAD!"

A roar erupted.

Zetius wielded the arcing flash. He slashed horizontally, and tentacles of light snapped out, cascading to the side.

The lightning shocked and fried the first enemy, but it didn't stop there. It ricocheted to the next three targets in the back.

Their darkened, smouldering corpses thudded to the floor.

Zetius dashed to the left as an ironclad enemy rammed at him with a rapid thrust.

With a soft grunt, he twisted his body, and the enemy’s attack missed by a hair's breadth.

The hounds…

His peripheral vision detected lurking figures at his back. They leapt, jaws wide with long, savage fangs.

Zetius spun on his heels, a crackling noise echoing as he arched his blade.

A horizontal slash dismembered the hounds into piles of flesh. The electrical discharge cascaded to the next victims, reducing them to dirt.

There was no mercy. The high voltage followed the path of least resistance. It was merely arcane science.

"ATTACK!" a voice bellowed from the shifting figures as they kept pouring into his location. Like moths to a flame, the demons threw themselves into the electric hell.

There was no time for rest. Zetius fuelled the next attack. He raised the blade parallel to his collarbone and let the lightning guide him.

The azure blade bolted forward, taking his entire body with it.

The lightning thrust ploughed into the group of enemies, shredding their armour and flesh.

Their ranks broken, the demons collectively reversed a step or two. Their eyes were fuelled with hatred, yet it was nothing compared to the intensity in Zetius’s gaze.

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Another brute fell, head severed.

Hounds hit the ground, legs fried to a crisp.

Even the Juggernauts’ thick armour was just a conduit for his power; it carried the shock through and burnt them at the core.

Bodies, armour, and weapons littered the smouldering soil.

Zetius slid left and right, delivering their death sentences. His expression remained solemn — unbothered, even.

Soon, their stacking numbers didn’t seem significant. Half of their force couldn’t land a single blow on this warmongering arcanist.

The dance of destruction continued.

Zetius caught sight of a cannon turning toward his location.

He struck another helpless demon and lurched at the next. Thunder followed the flash of light.

Aiming, the enemy fired their ball cannons. High-momentum projectiles arched across the sky.

Too slow.

Zetius let the blade take him again, turning into a haze of lightning. The projectiles could never hit him.

He ricocheted hundreds of metres in a matter of a second, and with him, enemies collapsed.

The smell of their burnt corpses and the tang of ozone filled his nostrils.

The strands on his arms stood up; the hair on his head spiked out with accumulated charge. His eyes leaked bright light.

A hammer was thrown at his head. Zetius merely tilted to the side.

"Really?"

Zetius coiled his knees and leapt tens of metres into the air. His blade held high, he brought it down with a powerful plunging attack.

A flash, followed by an ear-shattering explosion.

As the smoke faded, a shallow crater appeared, twisted bodies scattered about it.

Zetius rose slowly in the middle. Lightning micro-tendrils arced and flashed, seeking their next victims.

Ferrous rocks, debris, and shrapnel levitated around him, vibrating with energy — the true wonder of the electromagnetic field generated from his surroundings.

Shouts, hisses, and battle cries filled the battlefield. Then, in the sea of faces, the robed demon floated away, his hands flailing about, pushing through the masses.

That must be their commander. Zetius’s eyes grew intense.

He raised his blade, aligning its tip with the robed demon, then dashed and ploughed forward again.

The strike sent enemy ranks flying into the sky, their formation shattered.

Zetius’s fingers clawed at the throat of his target. The momentum drove the demon's head into the soil, drawing a long streak in the dirt until, finally, they stopped.

The surrounding demons jumped in, weapons swinging wildly.

Zetius swept his blade through their midsections. His wrist torqued, twisting the weapon into a reverse grip as he slashed back at the incoming wave.

Sweat sheened on his forehead now. White smoke clung to him like the heat of an oven.

He snapped his attention back to the robed demon on the floor, slamming his boot onto its chest.

"Who is your master?!" Zetius demanded, his grip tightening on the blade.

"No! Please, no!" The demon raised its arms to fence him off, eyes squeezed shut.

"Answer me!" he shouted. The wind whipped his hair back and forth. "Where is Ignius!?"

"Hahaha…" The pathetic demon chuckled deeply. It bared its ugly teeth in a twisted grin. Interrogation was pointless; there was no self-preservation behind those red eyes.

Zetius scowled. "Useless!"

He plunged his blade into the creature's throat. The chuckle faded, leaving only a wet gurgling sound.

In a fraction of a second, a fist flew at the back of his head—

ZZZZZZZZZZSSST!

He caught it with his offhand. The juggernaut struggled to yank back, claws tightening as it squeaked in confusion.

"Return to ashes!"

Static discharge unleashed from Zetius's palm, burning through the demon. An ultraviolet bolt whipped outward in a wide radius. The demon's eye sockets flashed with bright light before melting beyond recognition.

"Hmm… I involuntarily generated a static shield… another variant of Magnetos," Zetius noted, studying his palm, snapping it open and closed with awe.

The ground seemed to move beneath his feet; he wobbled slightly.

"Not yet!" he growled, gritting his teeth and stabilising his legs.

"He's weakened! Attack!"

"Keep pressing him!"

"Draw his blood!" the demons shouted, wiping the sting from their eyes. The atmosphere smelled of metal and acrid smoke. It was nauseating and dizzying even for Zetius.

The man shook his head.

Focus!

Red dots of malice surrounded him. It was the moment the enemies were hoping for — the battle of attrition. No arcanist could fight forever.

Warhorns resounded alongside the raging roar. Their ambition to strike down Zetius had reignited.

The sound of howling wind was muffled by the outer shell of the Armatus Celer. In the cockpit, the blue light of the HUD flashed on an empty, cushioned seat. There was no pilot.

Cubie scanned the inner city. There were signs of minor damage to the buildings; empty metallic casings scattered on the street.

"Hmm… No sign of anyone," Cubie grumbled.

Then, her infrared scanner beeped. She halted the Armatus in mid-air.

Small critters, imps with oversized cleavers, were banging on doors. Their high-pitched giggling echoed as they rammed their sharp edges through the wood, splinters flying out.

"There must be someone there!" she remarked and surged forward.

The Armatus drove down, a white streak of air trailing from its cross blades.

A collision erupted as she brought the blade into the ground. One critter became two vertical halves.

"EEEK!" The midget demon shrieked, throwing its cleaver at her armour.

A soft, unimpressed clank followed. The steel deflected and skidded across the ground.

"Oh…" An insensible gasp escaped the demon's thick lips. The glowing red visor of the machine stared back, its sheer height just as intimidating as its weaponry.

"Hey! Have some respect!" Cubie bellowed.

The big iron hands clapped the stone ground, kicking dust up into the air.

"Ewww…" Cubie shook the slime from the metal hand.

Inside the makeshift shelter, an injured mage winced in agony. His head was wrapped with a piece of cloth, and he lay on a sofa. His thin elven friend grasped his staff tightly, shoulders raised and tense.

There was a commotion outside — loud banging as the enemies attempted to break through.

The light flickered on and off until a final dragging sound echoed. The evening light poured through the ripped section of the doors.

"Who goes there!?" The thin elf stood up, his staff pointing at the breach.

The big machine head poked through, eyes gleaming.

The elf jumped and shrieked with fright.

"There you are!" Cubie said, joy bubbling between her chuckles.

"Who are you?!" The thin mage demanded. Mana twirled around his staff.

"Don’t shoot, don’t shoot! I’m with you guys, this is Cubie speaking."

"Who?" The thin mage narrowed his eyes, placing himself between the machine and his injured friend. He might have thought he sounded intimidating, but his pale face betrayed his fear.

"Come on! I’m Zetius’s favourite companion, you know—Zetius Zel Celerius!" Cubie revealed.

At the mention of that name, the mages lowered their defences. They knew the legend — the champion of the exhibition match during the Astral Empress’s coronation. His infamy stemmed from the dual-casting strike he had landed on a Celestius. That feat alone earned him undeniable respect; few had managed to do such a thing and still walk the surface of the earth.

Briefly, they exited the building. Their eyes kept leaking tears; the smoke and brimstone irritated them.

The far side of the town had been raided. A flash of lightning, ultraviolet in colour, rumbled in the distance toward their previous watchtower.

"Quick, hop in! I’ll get you to safety!" Cubie lowered the Armatus Celer, extending its mechanical palm. The empty cockpit opened in invitation.

"No~no one’s there!?" The thin mage blurted, his eyes wide with alert. They both backed away, boots scraping the floor.

"It’s a phantom machine!" the injured mage whispered to his friend, pulling the hem of his clothes.

"Really, guys?" Cubie grumbled. "Get in already or else I’ll leave you both here!" she scolded with her best angry voice.

"Fine, fine." The elf scratched his cheek before helping his injured friend climb up into the big hand.

Cubie gently transported them toward her torso. After they sat there, squeezing their knees together like two idiots, their blank faces gave away that this was their first time inside an Armatus.

Typical mages.

"Buckle up, would you?" she chided. The mages jumped and followed her guidance.

After a moment that felt like an eternity, at least to her, the Armatus Celer took off into the air once again. Rescue mission accomplished.